Took (17 page)

The burlap sack made everything worse. With every step I took, it grew heavier. I didn't understand how the doll could weigh so much. Maybe plowing through the snow was taking all my energy, leaving me tired and weak legged.

I was about to open the sack to make sure something else wasn't in there—a few boulders maybe—but I remembered what Miss Perkins had told me. If I wanted to rescue Erica, I had to do exactly what the old woman said.

By the time I reached the trail to the top of Brewster's Hill, I was exhausted. There was no protection from the wind. Snow blew in my face. Hard, icy pellets stung my skin and made my forehead ache. Every now and then I glimpsed shadowy shapes in the darkness—deer, I hoped.

There were noises, too—owls, foxes, and the low mutters of other things, growling and snarling, squealing and yelping in the woods. Brody told me there were wild hogs up here, razorbacks like Bloody Bones. I told myself it wasn't the monster hog I heard out there, but my knees shook with fear.

The sack grew so heavy I could barely drag it uphill. Gasping for breath, I thought it was like a backpack that never weighed much when I left home, but grew heavier after an hour or so of hiking. I felt like Atlas carrying the world on my shoulders.

Again I was tempted to open the sack and take out whatever was weighing it down, but when I started fumbling with the rope that held it closed, I swear I heard Miss Perkins's voice in the wind telling me not to do it. I sighed and began climbing again, dragging the sack behind me.

When I finally reached the top of the hill, it was almost midnight. Stunned, I stared at the scene before me. No longer in ruins, the cabin looked like something in a fairy tale. Snow covered its roof, icicles hung from its eves, smoke rose from its chimney, and candles glowed in its windows.

I crept closer, scared that Old Auntie would hear my footsteps. After hiding my backpack behind a rock near the cabin, I laid the sack down by the cabin door, glad to be relieved of its weight. Shadows cast by the windblown trees made the sack seem to be moving. Uneasily, I edged away from it. It wasn't a trick of the shadows. The sack had begun to move, as if something inside wanted to get out.

I heard Old Auntie walking around inside the cabin, berating someone in a harsh voice. “Lazy girl, stupid girl,” she said. “You ain't worth a wooden nickel. The girl afore you done all I asked and more, but you act like you never scrubbed a pot in your life.”

I heard a smack and a low cry. “Don't hit me, Auntie. I'm doing my best.”
Erica
, I thought,
Erica's in there.
Yet I stood at the door like a statue, afraid to raise my hand and knock.

“Well, your best ain't good enough, is it?” Another slap. Another cry from my sister.

The moon cast my shadow on the door, making me seem much larger than I was. I forced myself to knock three times.

From inside, a shrill voice called, “Who's that knock, knock, knocking at my door?”

“A poor traveler lost in the cold.” Fear made it hard to keep my voice steady.

“What do you want with me?”

“To sit by your fire a spell.”

“Ask me a riddle, and maybe I'll let you in.”

I took a deep breath. Hoping I remembered the words, I said, “I brung you a cherry without a stone.”

“A cherry when it's blooming, it has no stone,” Old Auntie answered. “Ask me another that ain't so easy.”

“I brung you a chicken that has no bone.”

“Hah, another easy one—a chicken when it's pipping, it has no bone.” Old Auntie laughed. “Now you tell me one I ain't heard, laddie, and make it snappy.”

“I brung you a servant that never tires and never grows old.” At my feet, the sack lurched wildly, and a harsh voice cried, “Let me out!”

I backed away in horror, but inside the cabin, all was silence. Auntie must have been mulling over the riddle. “A servant that never tires and never grows old?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

The sack heaved. “Let me out!”

“Is the answer time?” Auntie called.

“No, ma'am.”

Another silence. “You sure it's not time?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“That's right. Time ain't nobody's servant,” she muttered. “T'other way round, I reckon.” Another moment of silence. “How about water? Is that the answer?”

“No, ma'am.”

Again the sack twitched with life. Again the voice cried, “Let me out!”

“Is it fire, then?” Auntie asked through the door.

“No, none of them is right, ma'am.” That was three wrong guesses. She had to let me in.

Sure enough, a key jiggled in a lock and the door slowly opened. The old woman who'd terrified me in the woods poked her head out.

Spotting the sack, she asked, “What's in that there gunnysack?”

“The answer to the riddle,” I told her. “Let me in and you'll see.”

She stepped back, and I dragged the sack inside. It was all I could do to manage it. It humped up and swayed from side to side. Something in that sack was definitely alive.

Behind Old Auntie, my sister crouched by the fire. Although I'd told myself that Erica might not look like herself, I had no idea she'd be almost unrecognizable. Thin and pale, dirty and barefoot, her hair an uncombed thicket of tangles, she wore a colorless, shapeless dress that hung loosely from her bony frame. More than anyone else, she looked like Selene—the same sullen expression on her face, the same fear, the same exhaustion. She could have been Selene's twin.

It was clear that she didn't know me, and judging by the look in her eyes, she didn't trust me either. How was I to get her out of the cabin and drag her all the way home?

Auntie must have noticed me staring at Erica, because she said, “Don't pay her no mind. She ain't nobody. Just Girl. The worst servant I ever had. Don't know the meaning of work.”

Hiding her face, Erica fed twigs into the fire. “I'm sorry, Auntie,” she whispered. “I do my best.”

“I told you your best ain't nearly good enough, Girl.” Old Auntie started struggling with the rope that tied the sack closed. “There's something alive in here,” she cried. “It wants out. Get away, laddie. Let's see what you brung me.”

She shoved me aside. At the moment I was more scared of the doll than I was of Old Auntie.

“It's my servant, ain't it? The answer to that there riddle about never getting tired and never getting old.”

She tore the sack open, and the doll jumped out. It was the size of Erica herself, but it looked nothing like Little Erica. Its hair was tangled and fell over its bony face like a thicket of brambles. Its arms were long and skinny, its sharp nails like claws. It wore tatters of clothing, stained and faded. The fabric was so thin I saw its ribs.

With a grin as wicked as death, the conjure woman laughed with delight and picked up the doll. “Why, ain't you the ugliest little critter I ever did see!”

“Let me down, Auntie, let me down!” As soon as its feet hit the floor, it grabbed a broom and began sweeping, running this way and that like a wind-up toy, lurching and bumping into things, knocking furniture over, breaking bowls, scattering Auntie's things like leaves in a winter storm.

“Auntie, Auntie,” it cried, “catch me if you can!”

While Auntie chased it around the cabin, I grabbed Erica and hauled her toward the door. Just as I expected, she fought the way Selene had, kicking, scratching, biting. It was like holding a wild animal.

“Auntie!” she screamed. “Auntie!”

But the old woman was too busy to notice what was happening. Or maybe she didn't care about my sister now that she had a new servant. She caught the creature and slapped its face hard.

“Bad girl,” she screamed, and shook it until its bones rattled and its head bobbed. “Look what you done!”

Once Erica and I were outside, I held her still, forced her arms into the jacket's sleeves, and zipped up the front. I jammed the hat on her head, but she kicked so hard I couldn't get the boots on her feet. Abandoning them, I snatched up my backpack and dragged my sister toward the trail.

“Auntie, Auntie!” she shrieked.

“What's wrong with you?” I shook her. “We've got to get away from here.”

“Leave me be. I don't want to go anywhere!”

“I'm your brother. I've come to take you home.”

“Liar! You ain't my brother. I don't have no brother. I got no one save for Auntie—no home but here!” Erica thrashed and flailed and kicked. “Let me go! Let me go!”

I held her tight and kept going, stumbling through the snow. Behind us, I heard a sort of grunting, squealing, growling sound. I looked back and saw Bloody Bones come out of the trees. The moon shone on his bald head and cast his shadow across the snow. His ragged clothes fluttered in the wind. I saw his bones and his claws and his sharp teeth.

Even though Erica slowed me down, I ran and jumped over the snow, going as fast as I could. Bloody Bones wasn't going to stop me from bringing my sister home and making things right again.

Behind us, the cabin door opened, and Old Auntie screamed, “Get them, dear boy, bring them back to me!”

“No, Auntie,” Erica cried. “Don't sic him on me! I'll work hard, I'll do things right, I promise!”

Still struggling to keep hold of my sister, I slipped and slid down the trail, trying to keep us from falling. The wind blew us toward the edge of the drop-off, roots and stones rose up to trip us, but I kept going, forcing Erica to keep up with me.

Bloody Bones crashed through the snow behind us, gaining on us with every step. I imagined his breath as foul as death itself, his sharp claws squeezing around my throat, his eyeless skull looming over me in the moonlight.

“Don't let them get away!” Old Auntie's voice mingled with the wind shrieking through the trees. “Stop them—they'll bring us both to ruin.”

Bloody Bones snuffled and snorted. His bones rattled. He was gaining on us. I felt him grab at my jacket and miss. I tried to run faster, but a stone turned under my foot, and I fell. I lost my grip on Erica and lay stunned.

Above me stood Bloody Bones. While I lay in the snow staring up at him, he threw back his head and snorted. Then he bent down and pulled me to my feet. His bear claws sank into my shoulders. His face was so close I could see his tusks and his panther fangs and his empty eye sockets. The stink of him made me gag.

His bones rattled as he lifted me above his head. He was going to throw me off the cliff.

Just as he tensed to hurl me into the valley, I heard the crack of something hard hit Bloody Bones. He staggered backward, away from the edge of the cliff, and lost his hold on me. One leg collapsed, and he fell with a clatter of bones.

As he struggled to stand, another rock hit him. This one broke his arm clean off. The shattered bones dropped into the snow. Howling with anger, Bloody Bones lunged toward me, his one arm outstretched to push me to my death, his right leg useless.

Without thinking of anything but surviving, I dodged away from him. Unable to stop in time, Bloody Bones plunged over the edge of the cliff, screaming as he bounced from rock to rock, his bones flying apart and scattering as he went. In seconds, he was gone, leaving only the echo of his scream.

Auntie hobbled down the trail toward us. “My boy, my dear boy!” she screamed, her face and voice filled with rage and sorrow. “What have you done, you miserable, wicked creature?”

I backed away, but it wasn't me the conjure woman was speaking to. Erica stood behind me. Pale and trembling, she held a rock in each hand.

Old Auntie flung a string of strange words at both of us, but the wind turned them back on her. Raising her hands as if to fend off what she'd said, she began backing slowly up the trail.

“What will I do now without my dear boy?” she cried.

With each step she took, the wind blew harder and her shadow grew fainter, her body less solid. By the time she vanished into the woods, she was almost transparent.

“Auntie.” Erica stretched her arms toward the old woman. “Auntie. I'm sorry. Don't leave me. I only meant to stop him from hurting the boy.”

Seizing my sister's arm, I yanked her down the trail. She was still struggling when she looked back and screamed, “The cabin's on fire. It's burning! Put it out! Save her!”

I spun around. At the top of Brewster's Hill, flames leaped into the air, lighting the bare trees with an orange glow, sending sparks shooting toward the winter sky.

With a burst of strength, Erica broke away from me and ran up the trail. I ran after her, but this time she was too fast for me. I caught up with her at the cabin.

Or what was left of it. The old rotten wood had exploded in flames and burned so fast that the fire was already flickering over charred logs. Smoke blew sideways in the wind. Embers scattered. I kept a firm grip on Erica to keep her from running into the ruins to rescue Auntie.

“She's gone,” I said. Dead and gone, I hoped. Burned to ashes. “You can't do anything for her now.”

Erica collapsed against me, sobbing. “Now I got nobody. No home. Nothing.”

The fight had gone out of her. I held her tight and wondered if I'd ever hugged her before. I couldn't remember, but I kind of doubted it. Right now, though, I wanted to hold her for a long time, never let her go, never let anything bad ever happen to her again.

“You have me,” I told her, “and Mom and Dad.”

She shook her head and snuffled. “I ain't got nobody,” she insisted. “No brother, no sister, no mother, no father.”

In tears, she pulled away from me and stumbled down the trail. She had nothing more to say, and neither did I.

As we came out of the woods, I pointed to our house, a dark box in the field, moonlight glinting off the glass in its windows

“That's where we live,” I told her. “You and me and Mom and Dad.”