Witch Catcher (15 page)

"Ill never tell you. Never!" I tried to turn my head away, but her eyes held me.

She laughed softly. "You are indeed a foolish girl to trust those two. They'll betray you in the end, you know. It's their nature to lie and deceive."

"Speak for yourself," I whispered.

"Give Kieryn and Brynn to me," Moura said, "and I will leave. No harm to you, no harm to your father. Do you understand?"

Cadoc looked at me and growled softly. Moura rested her hand on the hound's head and waited for me to answer. In the kitchen, the tea kettle began to whistle.

I stared at her, scared of the hatred in her eyes. "I won't give them to you." My voice sounded small and weak. "You can't make me."

She shrugged and flicked a dog hair from her skirt. "I'll get them one way or another, my dear Jen."

When Dad came in with a tray, Moura darted a quick look at me and whispered, "You'll regret this." Turning to Dad, she smiled and took a glass of blood red wine from him. "Lovely, Hugh, lovely!"

After handing me my tea and a plate of cheese and crackers, Dad sat down beside Moura and raised his wineglass. "Here's to Jen," he said. "May she always return safely from her adventures."

Moura murmured something and clinked her glass against his. Glancing at me, she raised an eyebrow as if to say I would not return safely from my next adventure.

I sat with them for a while, but Moura captured Dad's attention with questions about his opinions of various artists. She listened to his answers, nodding her head in agreement with his views. "Yes," she would murmur, "I have often thought the same—Pissarro has been underestimated, undervalued."

I was of no interest to anyone but Cadoc, who watched me with unblinking eyes. A corner of his mouth lifted in a silent snarl, as if he were waiting for an excuse to attack me.

While Dad refilled Moura's wineglass, I said good night and carried my cup and saucer to the kitchen. There I filled a bag with more cheese and crackers, as well as apples and raisins. In the living room, Moura and Dad went on talking.

Taking care not to be seen with a bag of food, I sneaked up to my room. Kieryn and Brynn purred and ran to meet me. After I locked the door, they changed from cats to girl and boy and sat down beside me, devouring the food I'd brought.

Kieryn wiped crumbs from her mouth and patted her tummy. She purred just like Tink, even though she was now a girl. "What did
her
ted ye down there?" she asked. "We heard
her
voice but not
her
skitzy words."

"She said you and Brynn are dangerous. She wants to save me from you."

"Oh,
her
's a wicked one indeed, to play the old switcheroo game," Kieryn said. "Turn and twist, twist and turn, that's
her
way and no mistake."

Solemn-faced, Brynn slid closer to his big sister. "But what if
her
tricks Jen? Ye know how witches be with their spells and lies." He shot me a distrustful look. "Jen don't know
her
the way we do."

"Don't ye worry." Kieryn hugged Brynn. "
Her
can't fool our Jen. She be a clever girl. And getting braver every day."

But Brynn continued to look at me with suspicion. "She be human," he muttered to his sister. "There be bad suss between our kinkind and hers. I say, Don't trust no one but me."

Kieryn ignored her brother. Turning her odd tilted eyes to me, she asked, "What else did
her
tell ye?"

"She said if I give you and Brynn to her, she'd leave without harming Dad or me."

"And if ye don't?" Kieryn asked.

"She didn't actually say what she'd do." My voice shook a little. "She wouldn't harm Dad, would she?"

Kieryn shuddered. "There be no telling what
her
might do."

Brynn took his sister's hand and pulled her away from me. "We be fairykind. We don't need no human mucking about with us. She'll just make trouble."

I grabbed Kieryn's other hand. "There must be a way to getrid of Moura."

Kieryn's eyes lit with green fire. "Why, 'tis clear enough, ain't it? We must trap
him
and
her
like they done us."

"But I broke all the traps," I said.

"Nae," Kieryn said. "There be more. Yer kind been using them since old times back and back and long agone. Does for not have a shop?"

"Yes, the Dark Side of the Moon." I stared at Kieryn, perplexed. "But why would she have something so dangerous to herself?"

"I already told ye, they got them glasses," Kieryn said impatiently. "Don't ye remember? They protect their skitzy eyes."

"That's why
his
attic was chock-full of traps," Brynn put in. "They gets all they can and hides 'em away so they won't come upon one, unexpected-like."

"So all we need do is go to for shop and find two traps. Then we steal their glasses, and quick as quick into the globes they go," Kieryn cried. "Trapped!"

Brynn bounced up and down on the bed, his spiky hair dying around his face. "Then
bam!
go the stoppers into the spouts, snickety-snick. No more her or him! They be in there forever and always."

"Jen?" Dad's voice shattered our excitement. He was outside the door, his hand on the knob. "Why is the door locked?"

In a second, Kieryn and Brynn changed themselves to kittens and darted under the bed with Tink.

I opened the door. Dad and Moura stood together in the hair.

"Who were you talking to?" Dad asked.

"Nobody."

"But we heard you," Moura said softly.

"It sounded as if you had company." Dad looked around the room as if he expected to see someone.

"Oh. I was talking to Tink and Mist. Telling them a story. With voices—like you used to do when you read to me. Remember?" I was talking too fast, saying too much, but I couldn't stop myself.

Tink came out from under the bed and rubbed against Dad's legs. In the dark hair, Cadoc growled and slunk toward the cat. Moura laid her hand on his head and murmured something. The dog whined and sat down beside her.

"Where is Mist?" Moura asked.

Before I could answer, she was down on her knees beside the bed. In a moment, she sprang back up, a squirming kitten in each hand. Tink hissed at her. but she wasn't interested in him, only in the two she'd captured.

"Look," she said to Dad, "Jen's brought home another stray."

"Give them to me." I reached for the kittens, but Moura stepped away. "They're mine."

"Jen," Dad said. "Where did the second one come from?"

"The woods," I stammered, "just like Mist. Make her give them to me, Dad."

"Feral cats don't make good pets," Moura said. "Just look at the way they're snarling at me. They'd love to scratch my eyes out."

Forgetting everything but Kieryn and Brynn, I dung myself at Moura and grabbed at the kittens. "Give them to me, you witch!"

"Jen!" Dad seized me and pulled me away from Moura. "What are you doing? Control yourself!"

Moura strode toward the door, holding the kittens by the nape of their necks. They struggled, their fur bristled, their tails lashed, they yowled and hissed. "You can't allow Jen to behave like this," Moura told Dad. "She must be punished."

I fought Dad, pummeling him with my fists, kicking at his legs, flailing this way and that. "Let me go!" I screamed. "Don't let that witch take my kittens! She'll hurt them."

Moura went out into the hall, followed by Cadoc. He rose up on his hind legs and snapped at Brynn and Kieryn. "Not yet," Moura whispered to the dog. "Be patient."

Dad looked at me in despair. "Jen, what's happened to change you so? How can you be so hateful?"

I clung to him and begged him not to listen to Moura, but he pushed me away and left the room. The door slammed shut.

"Lock it," I heard Moura say. "She won't stay there unless you do."

"But—" Dad began.

"You must punish her," Moura cut in. "She was rude to me. Disrespectful. I cannot possibly marry you if you allow your daughter to say and do whatever she pleases."

"But, Moura," Dad began again.

"She's a liar as well." Moura went on as if Dad hadn't spoken. "I don't believe she was sleeping up here while we searched for her. Heaven knows where she was or what she was doing. She'll be completely out of control if you don't put an end to this right now."

"Jen never used to act like this." Dad's voice broke. "I don't know what's wrong with her."

I'd heard enough. I ran to the door and pounded on it. "Dad," I cried. "Dad, can't you see what's she doing? It's her fault things have changed. She's evil, she's—"

"Put a stop to it," Moura hissed at Dad. "Or I swear I will walk out of this house and never return."

"That's enough, Jen," Dad said, his voice suddenly cold and firm. "Stay here and think about your behavior."

The key turned in the lock.

The kittens cried once in distress. Moura's quick, sharp steps clattered down the stairs. Cadoc's toenails clicked behind her. Dad followed more slowly.

I lay on the floor and looked under my door at the empty hall. Maybe Kieryn and Brynn would come scampering back on mouse feet or hopping on cricket legs or slithering on snake bellies. Surely they'd And a way to escape from Moura.

I waited. And waited. And waited. The wooden floor grew harder. And colder.

But nothing came—not a mouse, not a cricket, not a snake. Kieryn and Brynn weren't strong enough to escape from Moura. Unless I could figure out a way to rescue them, she would trap them again—forever this time.

H
OURS LATER, LONG
before dawn, I woke up, stiff from sleeping on the floor. Moonlight filled my room. My walls were patterned with swaying shadows cast by the trees outside. The house was dead silent.

I stood up and tried the door. Still locked. I pounded on it anyway, hoping Dad would hear me and relent. But even though I beat on the wood till my fists ached, no one came.

Tink meowed from the windowsill. I ran to his side and poked my head out into the cool night air. The lawn lay far below, silver where the moonlight struck it. Dad's new shovel lay beside the flower bed, its newly turned earth a dark patch in the grass. He must have started working on it after Mr. Ashbourne left with the paintings.

If Kieryn had been with me, I could have become a bat or a bird and flown out of my room. But without her help, I couldn't change my shape. No matter how hard I concentrated on wings and tails and feathers, I remained a girl.

"Oh, Tink," I whispered. "How can I save Kieryn and Brynn?"

His tail swished back and forth. He hunched forward and stretched his neck to peer at the shadowy lawn. In the dark ness under the oak tree, something moved. Tink and I drew back, afraid it was Moura.

Below my window, a strange old woman stepped cautiously into the moonlight. Her back was bent, and she leaned heavily on a cane, but she wore big black hiking boots with yellow shoelaces, purple- and pink-striped stockings, a yellow polka-dot dress with lace trim, and an enormous black straw hat strewn with dowers. To top it off, her long, bushy hair was Day-Glo pink. Shading her eyes with one hand, she surveyed the house. After a moment, she beckoned, and two more old women joined her.

The first was tall and skinny, and the second was short and fat. The tall one wore a long, loose purple dress that floated around her like gauze. Her hat was lime green and hugged her head like a cloche, hiding all her features except a pointed nose and chin. The hair spilling down her back was a glorious blue. On her feet she wore ankle-high red tennis shoes with spike heels.

The short one's wild mop of curly green hair burst from under a tiny red and yellow beanie. Her tent-shaped dress was covered with flowers in bright colors, and her shoes were orange with platform soles.

I blinked twice, three times, and rubbed my eyes, sure I was dreaming. But even after I'd pinched myself, the trio refused to vanish.

"Where do ye think
her
be?" the leader asked.

"In yon big housie," the short one said.

"It's a big, big, bigsy housie," the tall one observed in a mournful voice. "We'll never find
her,
search as we will."

"Nae fear," the short one said. "We'd sniff for out like we always does. Her carina hide from us."

Dropping to her knees, the leader began to crawl toward the house, sniffing the grass like a dog on the track of something.

The others joined her, circling and sniffing. Gradually, both Tink and I relaxed. The old women didn't seem dangerous—just very, very odd.

Suddenly, I remembered the dashes of light I'd seen when I broke the glass globes in Mr. Ashbourne's tower. Turning to the cat, I whispered, "It's the aunties, Tink! They must be looking for Moura."

Tink leaned out the window and meowed loudly. I grabbed him, afraid he'd fall, and the old women looked up at me in surprise.

"It be the human child," the leader cried. "Her who saved us!"

Leaping to their feet, all three curtsied and bobbed around, bowing their heads.

"Thank'ee, thankee!" they called. "Thank'ee ten times over the moon, a hundred times over the sun, and a dozen times in and out of the rainbow for breaking them cursed jimjams, them geegaws, them wicked trapsters. Thank'ee, thank'ee, thank'ee, young miss."

"You're the aunties," I said. "You were in the traps I broke."

"Oh, aye, we be the aunties," the leader said. "And fairies, too."

"We be yer good fairies," the tall one said. "Nice to those that be nice to us. Not to be feared or spoke ill of. But to those that do us wicked, we—"

"In short, for Skilda do go on and on," the leader interrupted, "we share no kinkind with tor that hides in yer housie."

"Can ye show us the way to
her
lair?" the short one asked.

"I'm locked in my room," I told them. "She made my father punish me. She took Kieryn and Brynn."

The aunties drew close together and stared at me in dismay. "Nae, it can't be," the leader whispered. "Them two be too young to fight
her.
They be helpless as real kittens in her hands."

Skilda began to weep. "
Her
will destroy them."