Liesl & Po (22 page)

The alchemist and the Lady Premiere, racing through the woods with their lanterns held aloft, felt it. Mrs. Snout felt it, and it brought to her a sense of regret, though she could not have said why.

Sticky, on his way to the Red House, felt it, and found he was not even warmed by thoughts of what he would do with his newfound wealth. . . .

A policeman, a sneezing old woman, and a thickheaded guard carrying a cat in a sling all felt it, as they set off through the foothills in pursuit of Will and Liesl. They had just met on the road a one-eyed boy on a donkey, who had, in response to their question about two children, replied dutifully with the phrase Mrs. Snout had made him repeat.
“The children are on their way to the Red House. . . .
”

The policeman muttered a curse under his breath and pulled his scarf tighter.

The old woman sneezed, and stared bleakly at the cat in the sling.

The cat shivered.

The guard fingered the hat in his pocket.

The boy on the donkey thought of his missing eye, and roundedness, and a world undivided.

And all around them, tremendous magic continued to swirl and spiral and scatter, carried on by the wind.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

LIESL AND WILL MADE THEIR WAY OUT OF THE
forest with Po and Bundle scouting. By the time the trees thinned and the land became flat and empty again, morning had come. The sky was the color of new milk, one long sheet of clouds stretched tight. Still the wind blew, hard and strange, stirring up old feelings and memories.

“I know where we are,” Liesl said. The edge of the forest, the hard, flat fields in front of them, the dry creek bed they came upon, the wind: All of it brought her tumbling headlong into her past. She was falling, flailing, as images came rushing back: the smell of new damp earth and wild grasses to her waist; running toward the pond, which flashed like a coin beyond the willow tree; the old well with its moss-covered stones; laughter and shouting; the creaks of the old house, the way it swelled in the rain like an old woman’s joints; endless games of hide-and-seek; dark closets, and the smell of wool and mothballs.

There were other memories too, these more indistinct and also more puzzling, of the feeling of warmth tickling her neck, and a luminous and dazzling presence in the sky. The sun.

“The house is that way.” Liesl pointed. She felt she must speak in a whisper, as though they were in church. “Just beyond the stone wall. The pond and the willow tree are a little past the house.”

Perhaps Will felt, too, that the place they had come to was sacred. He bowed his head and began stepping carefully, as though worried he might cause the ground to shatter. Even Po was hesitant. In the watery daylight, the ghost was nothing more than a comma of gray air, flickering in and out uncertainly. Only Bundle turned merrily ahead, unaware.

Even though it was cold and the wind was raw, Liesl began to sweat as they crossed the field. The box slipped a little in her grip and she had to wipe her palms, one after another, against her jacket. They had traveled a long way to be exactly here, and yet Liesl had not given much thought to what would happen when she arrived and saw the house again after all these years. She had not given much thought, either, to what it would mean to put her father in the ground. Then she would truly be alone.

As if sensing her thoughts, Will whispered, “You all right?”

“Yes,” Liesl whispered back, and adjusted the box in her arms.
No
, she thought.
Not alone. Not ever again.
She had Will and Po and Bundle now.

They reached the low stone wall. Bundle and Po passed through it absentmindedly; Will and Liesl scrambled after them. Beyond the wall, the land dipped. At the bottom of the gentle, sloping hill was the Red House, and beyond that was the pond, reflecting the flat, hard silver sky and the weeping willow tree. The tree’s leaves were brown, and it looked more stooped and sad and saggy than ever.

“Oh,” Liesl said, and “Oh” again. There was a hollow feeling in her chest. The house, the pond, the tree—it was all both overwhelmingly familiar and different from what she remembered—smaller and shabbier, somehow. It was like waking up to find that your reflection in the mirror had aged overnight, or had sprouted a new mole: You were forced to admit that things changed, whether you gave them permission to or not.

Liesl was overwhelmed by a sense of the otherness of everything. She belonged to the world, but the world did not belong to her; she was only the smallest, sprouting part of it, a tiny wart growing on the backside of an elephant. Somewhere there existed a glowing, magical, center part of the universe, but she was nowhere near it. The idea made her feel both comforted and sad at the same time.

“We used to have picnics there”—Liesl gestured to an empty place—“and in the winter we made snow angels there.” She was alarmed to feel a lump building in her throat.

“Well.” Will’s voice was unnecessarily and deliberately cheery, and seemed out of place. “We might as well do what we came to—”

“Shhh,” Po hushed him sharply. “I hear voices.” In a second, Po and Bundle were gone.

Will and Liesl froze. They strained to listen, but could make out nothing above the howling wind and the pounding of their hearts.

Then Po and Bundle were back. Bundle was
mwark
ing excitedly. Po was very grave.

“It’s them,” Po said. “The one you called the Lady Premiere, and the thin man.”

“The alchemist,” Will gasped, turning white.

“Quickly,” Liesl said, and started toward the house. They had come this far; they could not be stopped now. “There’s a closet behind the stairs. We can hide there.”

The windows of the Red House were covered with a thick layer of dust, and paint was flaking from its exterior, as though the house were slowly shedding its skin. But to Liesl’s surprise the front door opened easily.

The alchemist and the Lady Premiere had just reached the stone wall when Liesl, Will, Bundle, and Po slipped into the house.

“Shut the door,” Liesl whispered to Will, and he did. The windows were so grimy they admitted no light. Once the door was closed, Liesl could see absolutely nothing.

“Do you think they saw us?” Will whispered.

“I don’t know,” Liesl answered.

“Bundle and I will stand watch outside,” Po said. “We will tell you if the lady and the thin man are headed for the house.” Just like that, the ghosts were gone.

For a moment Will and Liesl stood inside the door, listening. They could hear the Lady Premiere and the alchemist speaking as they came down the hill, their footsteps crunching on the dew-coated grass.

“I see no signs of them,” the Lady Premiere was saying.

“We may have beat them here,” the alchemist responded.

“Come,” Liesl whispered. “This way.” She began to move very slowly toward the staircase at the back of the house, keeping both hands on the walls on either side of her, feeling her way. Wallpaper crumbled beneath her fingertips: yellow wallpaper, covered with purple pansies, she remembered. The house smelled like mildew and closeness, and windows that had not been opened in ever so long. But beneath it, Liesl thought she could detect another smell, one she remembered from long ago: of freshly baked cookies, and wild heather, and happiness.

Will stepped heavily behind Liesl, and a wooden board creaked under his boot.

“Be
careful
,” Liesl whispered.

“Sorry,” Will whispered back.

They inched along through the pitch-black hall. Liesl tried to remember the exact layout of the downstairs. That must be the kitchen they were passing on the right—she could feel the swinging doors, a different texture under her fingertips—which meant that any second, on the left, they would come to the dining room.

“Achoo!”

“Bless you,” both Will and Liesl said automatically, at the same time.

“I didn’t sneeze,” Liesl said.

“I didn’t either,” Will said, fear creeping into his voice. “Liesl, I think—”

The rest of his words were drowned out. Lanterns flashed on around them, and suddenly the house was filled with shouting. A woman was crowing, “Found ’em at last! And didn’t I know they’d be together!” Liesl and Will felt rough hands seize them—in their fear, they could not have said how many hands, nor how many bodies materialized from the darkness around them. Everything was confusion, an inhuman wailing almost like a cat’s yowling, and a rapid stuttering of sneezes, one after another, and the walls lit up with dancing shadows.

Will saw an enormous face, white and terrible in the glow of a lantern. Its smile was as broad as a half-moon, and beneath it was another face—an animal’s face—two bright yellow eyes and a small nose. Terrified, Will had the impression that the faces were fused together and he was staring at a two-headed demon.

“There you are,” the upper face said. “I knew I’d catch up with you sooner or later. I have a little present for you.”

Will saw two enormous hands coming toward him, holding a black piece of fabric. He thought,
I am going to be suffocated.

He thought,
I am going to die now.

And then, just as Mo slipped a heavy woolen hat on Will’s head, he fainted.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

FOR A FEW SECONDS AFTER AWAKENING, WILL
did not know where he was. The small and faded room, the pain in his lower back, and the familiar mutterings of the alchemist made him think for a moment he was back at the alchemist’s apartments, and the past few days—the misplaced magic, the flight, the train, and Liesl—had been a dream.

“Did you enjoy your nap?” Po asked sarcastically.

Will jumped, and immediately felt a sharp pain in his shoulders and wrists. The ghost flickered just to his left, then materialized on the other side of Liesl. Liesl and Will were sitting side by side in two rickety chairs. They had each been handcuffed with their arms behind them, and their ankles had been bound to the chairs with heavy rope.

Will felt his cheeks burn. He could not believe he had fainted in front of Liesl. “What—what happened?”

“We were ambushed,” Liesl said dully. “And they’ve taken the box.”

Will shook his head, trying to clear it. The oil fumes in the room—from several lanterns, placed at intervals on the wooden floor—made thinking difficult. Will guessed they were in the dining room. There was a long wooden table in the center of the room, surrounded by several chairs whose silk cushions were long faded to a dingy white, and torn apart by insects.

Standing in one corner were the old woman from the train, the policeman, and the guard from the Lady Premiere’s town house. The guard was still carrying a cat in a sling around his chest. This, Will realized with a sense of shame, was the two-headed monster who had confronted him in the hall, the one who had so terrified Will in the dark.

The old woman seemed to be berating him. She jabbed her cane onto the wooden floor for emphasis.

“Of course it’s necessary that they be kept under lock and key!” she was saying. “It’s the definition of necessary! Those two—
ACHOO!
—are criminals, and we are doing our public duty by—
ACHOO!
—bringing them to justice!”