The Conjuring Glass (7 page)

If they expected something spectacular or even mildly interesting at the peak, they were disappointed. The top of the hill opened on a field like the one below, stretching as far as they could see into the darkness. They dashed forward after the sound of something crashing through the tall wild grass, and found themselves on a well-beaten trail.

They ran on and on, the sounds or silhouette of the fox always just ahead of them, and then all at once, Zoe cried out and stopped.

Penny skidded in the dirt, almost crashing into her. She could hear the sound of rushing water, just as she had the last time she’d approached the hill, yet very close this time, not just a phantom sound carried to her on the wind.

“What did you do that for?” Penny dusted off the legs of her jeans and picked a ladybug out of her bangs.

“Look,” Zoe said, and pointed.

Penny followed her finger and saw.

Only a few feet in front of them, the trail ended abruptly. The ground descended sharply into a small, tree-choked canyon. The highest boughs of the thick grove before them were level with the high ground they stood on.

The girls stood still for a few moments, peering into the darkness below. Then Zoe grabbed Penny’s arm.

“Let’s go.”

“Yeah,” Penny said, turning back the way they had come.

Zoe stopped her. “No…down there.”

“I don’t know about that,” Penny said, looking apprehensive.

Zoe had already moved forward though, as eager to continue the adventure as Penny was to turn back.

“Don’t give up now, young ladies.” Penny recognized the voice that came from the grove below as the voice of the fox. “You’ve almost caught me.”

Zoe gasped and her mouth fell open.

Without another thought, Penny started down the drop.

“Hey, wait!” Zoe followed her.

They half climbed, half slid down the steep trail for a minute before they reached the bottom, and pushing through a curtain of hanging willow whips, stepped into a large grove.

For some reason, where the night outside the grove was very dark, the night inside was much brighter, as if it had captured the moonlight and amplified it. There was a ring of stones, a fire pit, covered with dust and surrounded by weeds. The stones on the inside of the ring were burned dark from fires long past, but the center bore no evidence of recent use. The fire pit was surrounded by larger stones, boulders almost, like primitive chairs set around a campfire. Beyond, a wide creek babbled, its surface sparkling and clear. A solid granite wall rose into the darkness on the creek’s far side.

The place had a comfortable feel to it: secluded, secret, but welcoming. Someone had used it once, though not recently. Yet Penny couldn’t imagine who.

This must be Little Canyon Creek
, Penny thought. The very edge of the property she owned.

The most interesting thing about the clearing was the giant, ancient tree standing at the creek’s edge. Its large and complicated network of knotted roots snaked across and through the water, as if slowly forming a bridge to the other side. It was easily the strangest tree she’d ever seen up close: its huge trunk twisted, knotted, split, and scarred in places. It looked like it had been struck by lightning at one time, sheared, and a dark-edged wound ran a few feet up the side, ending with a large hole.

There was a scraping sound from the other side of the creek, startling Penny and Zoe into each other’s arms.

“What was that?” Zoe asked in a hushed voice.

Penny had no idea, but before she could say so, a swish of red fur emerged from a hole in the solid rock face on the other side of the rushing water. The fox’s tail, whipping around as it backed out of a small cave with difficulty.

For several moments the fox struggled, until at last its body and head emerged. Then they saw what had slowed it down. It dragged a small wooden box behind it, its teeth clamped on a leather hand strap. It looked like a pirate’s treasure chest with its brass hinges and lock, crossed with leather straps.

When the chest was out, the fox turned to them, its jaw still closed on the handle, and leapt into the water.

“What’s it doing?” Penny watched the fox’s approach with trepidation, ready to turn and run for it.

“Dunno … playing fetch?”

Halfway across the creek, the fox scrambled up onto the big tree’s questing roots, shook the water out of its thick fur, and dragged the chest the rest of the way to the shore. It dropped the chest on the bank and turned to them, panting. It watched them in turn
—
Zoe first, then, for what seemed like an especially long time, Penny.

“Always the same,” it said. Its voice, Penny noticed, had a trace of an accent. British, or maybe Irish? “The new is born from the ruins of the old—the phoenix rises from the ashes, and the adventure continues.”

It watched them for a few moments longer, then showed its pointed teeth in what Penny hoped was supposed to be a friendly grin.

“You can call me Ronan,” the fox said. “And what may I call you?”

“I’m Penny,” Penny said, and when Zoe didn’t respond, Penny nudged her.

“Zoe,” her friend whispered.

Ronan nodded. “I think you two will do well.”

Then it leapt from the stony shore, nimbly springing off the bridge of roots, and vanished back into its cave.

Penny and Zoe tried fruitlessly to open the chest for several minutes, but could not. A sturdy brass lock and a pair of wide hinges secured the lid, and as much as they wanted to see inside, they didn’t quite dare to break it. The chest was old, battered, but beautiful. A carving that seemed to be half
‐
bird, half
‐
flame, decorated the top.

“Too bad he forgot to leave the key,” Zoe said, disgusted as she set the chest down on the big rock between them.

Penny poked it with a finger and said, “Open sesame.”

Nothing happened.

“You didn’t really expect that to work, did you?” Zoe asked, and laughed.

Penny shrugged, and yawned. She was surprised she could be tired after all the interesting things that had happened that night, and the mystery of the chest waiting to be solved. It was quite late though. The moon had moved further across the sky, and the grove was growing darker. She wondered if she’d be able to talk Zoe into going back to the house, then her friend yawned too.

“Can you stay for a while tomorrow?” Penny had considered bringing the chest back to her room, so they could spend more time working on opening it, but knew, somehow, that it was a bad idea. The chest was supposed to stay in the hollow.

“Sure,” Zoe said. “I left a note for Grandma, told her I’d be going out for the day.”

Something about that statement struck Penny as odd, but she let it pass for the moment.

“Good, we can come back tomorrow and try to open it again.”

“Try to stop me,” Zoe said, sounding excited.

Zoe yawned again, Penny placed the chest inside the abandoned fire ring, covering it with a handful of fallen leaves, and they headed back up the trail, toward home.

They snuck back into the house, up the stairs, and Penny cringed as the steps into her attic room slid down with a slight metallic scraping. They climbed, pulled the steps up behind them, and pulled the door closed behind it. They made it back without Susan catching them, and Penny breathed a little easier.

Exhausted from the long hike back, they dropped into their beds and slept almost immediately.

Penny puzzled over the mysterious chest in her sleep, and Ronan’s words echoed in her head.

The phoenix rises from the ashes, and the adventure continues
…

Accidental Magic

Zoe did not get to stay long the next morning. Halfway through breakfast, her grandmother called.

“I gotta go home,” she said, sounding worried and angry.

“What’s wrong?” Susan downed the last of her coffee and ruffled Penny’s hair on her way through the kitchen.

Zoe looked at her lap, a spill of hair falling over her face, and muttered something about
chores
.

“I’m heading to town. We’ll stick your bike in the trunk and I’ll give you a lift.”

Zoe nodded and rose to follow Susan, and Penny saw her face had flushed with embarrassment.

“You coming back?”

“I’ll try,” Zoe said, and left it at that.

“You can come to town if you want,” Susan said. “I can be a few minutes late.”

“Naw, I’ll stick around today.”

“Okay,” Susan said. “I only work half days on Saturday, so I’ll see you after lunch.”

A few minutes later Susan and Zoe were speeding away down the gravel driveway and out of sight.

They’d planned on heading out to the grove after eating, but Penny decided to wait until she’d heard back from Zoe. She watched a few hours of Saturday morning cartoons, but didn’t enjoy them. She started reading the book Susan had given her, but couldn’t stay interested. The image of that chest, hidden in the ashes and leaves of the fire pit, kept popping into her head, and she grew more restless by the minute. Torn between wanting to get back to that interesting new mystery, and wanting to wait for Zoe so they could work on it together.

They had discovered it together after all. Penny would never have had the nerve to follow Ronan the night before if Zoe hadn’t been there to drag her along.

Finally, after finishing a lunch of tuna fish sandwiches and potato chips, Penny decided to call and see if Zoe was coming back.

Penny waited through several rings and was about to hang up when someone, Zoe’s grandmother Penny guessed, barked “What?” into her ear.

“Is Zoe there?”

A pause filled with the sound of heavy, wheezing breathing, then, “She’s busy.”

Before Penny could ask when Zoe wouldn’t be busy, the old woman hung up, leaving her in a shocked silence.

Penny waited for a little while longer, but Zoe didn’t call back. Finally, Penny set off on her own, walking through the hot, overcast day, toward the grove.

She followed the path she remembered from the day she first saw Ronan, keeping a close watch around her every step of the way for the strange animal. However, Ronan did not show himself. Before long, Penny found herself on the upward slope, gripping the same stunted trees and dry shrubs as before to keep from slipping. At the top, she continued along the path through the wilted wild grass toward a lush green patch in the distance. The top boughs of the grove.

A few minutes later she stood at the edge of the narrow canyon, and gasped as she peered down. From her vantage point, there was no discernible trail down the sheer and stony drop.

How had they gotten down there, and in the dark?

Penny dropped to her knees for a better look down the canyon wall, and saw fresh scuff marks in the dirt. Running her fingers over them, she found a narrow ledge of stone. Craning her neck to look past it, she saw more below.

“This is it,” she said, standing up. She took a deep breath, put one cautious foot forward, and stepped down onto the ledge. Then she looked down again, and gasped in surprise. From her new, slightly altered perspective, the way down was perfectly clear. It was as if there had been a blind spot hiding the downward trail, and now that she could see it, it did not seem as far down, or as steep. It looked easy, in fact.

The climb down
was
easy, and once at the bottom, Penny stepped into the clearing, seeing it in full clarity for the first time.

It looked bigger in the light; a high canopy of lush willow leaves let sunlight through in slanted bars. It was as if someone had braided the willow limbs that should have hung over her head into a living canopy. On the outer ring of the grove, the supple limbs hung almost to the ground, except for where the creek ran. On the other side of the creek stood the vertical wall of granite, a small stone ledge only an inch above the rushing water, and the mouth of Ronan’s cave.

The large, lightning-scarred tree stood at the water’s edge. Looking up, Penny saw that tree was only a little taller than the others, but its trunk was as thick as any five of the smaller trees put together.

An old wooden sign lay on the ground at the big tree’s roots, the frayed rope that once held it suspended from one of the tree’s lower limbs had rotted and snapped long before.

Aurora Hollow
.

The words held a resonance with Penny, like the house, something almost remembered.

Penny turned to the fire ring and felt a jolt of excitement, remembering why she had come. She cleared away the cover of last season’s dead leaves and lifted the chest out, dusting old ashes off the wood and the brass-inlaid image of a fiery bird.

A phoenix.

The phoenix rises from the ashes
.

Struck by a sudden idea, Penny set the chest aside and plunged her hands into the center of the fire pit. She dug out handfuls of ash and muck, sifting through it.

Penny smiled and raised her fist high, clutching something that glinted in the slanting bars of sunlight. An old brass key.