The Motion of Puppets (29 page)

With no path to follow, Theo and Egon had to pick their way down the incline through the trees, alert for any roots or ditches buried beneath the shag of fallen leaves. Up on the road, Mitchell started the car and drove away to the meeting spot. They had decided beforehand to walk blind through the forest without using their flashlights until they were actually in the barn, so as to not give themselves away. But that meant being alone in the forest in the dark and subject to its bewitchments. The pines brushed against their faces and arms and the white birch glowed like skeletons. The slightest noise became a fox or black bear. Stirring in the undergrowth meant a snake. Every breath escaped in a small cloud. Theo could feel the beating of his heart, hear the suddenness of his gasps. They stumbled and stopped to a rest at the bottom of the hill.

The stream was dead ahead, shards of moonlight breaking on the gliding water. They were nearly upon it before realizing how wide it was, and of course, there was no way to tell just how deep it might be. Huffing from exertion, Egon put his hands on his knees when they reached the banks of the stream. Theo turned on his flashlight and played the beam across the surface, a few stones hunched against black water.

“Looks like we could use a boat,” Egon said.

“A ferry across the Styx, Mitchell would say.”

“We could turn back now. Or I could try to find a way stone by stone.” Egon hopped from the bank to the first stone, and Theo followed him, conscious of the music of the water against the rocks. They forded the stream until the very last stone. Egon gauged the leap incorrectly and landed on the edge with a splash. “Christ!” he shouted and hopped to the bank. “Cold as a grave.”

With his longer legs, Theo jumped onto the soft shore. “Are you all right?”

“
Mes souliers sont chiés,
” Egon said. “And my socks are sopping, too. But here we are.”

Running along the edge of the pasture was a wooden fence topped by a thin strand of wire.

Theo flicked on his light and studied the obstacle. “You don't think it's electrified, do you? I wouldn't want you getting zapped, wet as you are.”

“Fortune favors the brave,” Egon said, and without hesitation, he climbed up and over to the other side, with Theo fast behind him. At the top of the meadow, the barn loomed in the darkness, blotting out the moon and stars.

An owl, white as a ghost, screeched as it passed overhead. Beating its wings soft as a whisper, it flew to the cupola atop the roof. Faint notes from a mandolin reverberated as it landed, and a round of laughter came from the upper loft of the barn.

“What the hell is that?” Egon whispered.

“Music.”

“I'll be damned.”

“Coming from the barn or from the house? You don't suppose they're dancing in there?”

“It's the puppets.”

“Are you sure about this?”

Egon said, “I am certain she is one of them somehow. A puppet. Black magic. Two kinds of people come to the supernatural: some who don't believe and some who approach the world in all its inexplicable dread and wonder. There's only one way to know if I am right or wrong. If I'm wrong, what harm to us? And if I'm right, then there is a chance we've found your Kay.”

“Ridiculous, can't be…”

“Don't let doubt be your enemy,
mon ami.
Trust what you hear and see, and let your heart be your guide.”

Following the old goat trails, they zigzagged up the hillside. Halfway to the barn, they could see the light seeping through the cracks between the boards and hear stray voices and the clomp of dancing feet coming from the loft. The whole building seemed strangely pulsing and alive. Atop the rocky ledge by the cote, they stopped and found a small doorway just the right size for a goat or a sheep.

“That's my entrance,” Egon said. “No use you crawling in on hands and knees through the muck. You go round to the front, and I'll make my way through and unlock it and let you in, unless I get caught up in the polka. Just be careful if you hear that hellhound. Go on, then.
Bonne chance.
”

 

23

Noë screamed and struggled for her balance when she saw them return with the Devil in tow, quite nearly hanging herself by accident. The Quatre Mains puppets turned as one to witness the Devil's entrance, a demonic grin across his face, his forked tail wagging like a hound's. They forgot all about Noë's threatened suicide and rushed to welcome him home with astonished embraces. Wrapping his arms around the Devil's belly, Mr. Firkin lifted him atop the corncrib to be more easily applauded and admired. During the homecoming, Noë stepped out from under the noose and cornered her friends.

“So he's been hiding this whole time?”

“Not hiding,” the Good Fairy said. “Playing the diplomat. Winning us new friends. You'll be so happy when you meet them all.”

Turning her back on the celebrations, Noë was determined to find answers. “What about the front door? Was it locked? Did someone come for us?”

“In all the excitement, I nearly forgot,” the Good Fairy said. “There was nobody at the door.”

Kay whispered in her friend's ear. “But we left it unlocked. Just in case.”

To stop the little dog from whimpering and pestering, the Devil scooped him up in one hand, and for his troubles, he was nearly licked to death. He handed the beast over to Nix as the puppets gathered round for the sermon.

“Ladies and gentlemen”—he bowed to the Queen—“Your Majesty. I come back from the dead with great news. The others are us. Or should I say we are the others. Or there are no others, only us.”

“But they tried to kill you,” said the Old Hag. “We all heard the screams that night. It was a most horrible noise, and you were surely unmade or near death throes.”

“Nothing of the sort, madam.”

“Was so, was so,” Nix insisted. “Never heard nothing like it in my life.”

“What you heard were shouts of joy and astonishment. There are great wonders and enchantments in other rooms. Ask your friends the Good Fairy and Kay.”

Commanding silence, the Queen rose to her full height and paced back and forth, casting a pall over the whole room, everyone anxious over her reaction to the Devil's story. She was thinking, never a good sign. Tucking his hands behind his back, Mr. Firkin trailed her footsteps, a look of great consternation on his face, as the little dog bounced along at their feet.

“We are not amused,” the Queen said at last. “Not amused in the slightest. First, Devil, you left our person without permission, without so much as a by-your-leave, and made yourself absent these several nights, bringing grief and consternation to us all. We thought you had perished, my dear friend, at the hands of the others. But rather, you were on a spree. And were discourteous enough not to let us know your whereabouts or of your general health and well-being.”

The Devil hung his head contritely.

“Second, and I see now what rogues you are, the three of you—Noë and Kay I understand, but you, too, Good Fairy? The three of you conspired and colluded to fashion this most distasteful ruse. That you would concoct a hanging, not even as a mere public execution but as a diversion so that you conspirators could sneak away to search for the Devil here—”

“That's not what happened,” Kay interrupted. “We heard a noise at the door and—”

“Silence!” The Queen stomped her foot. From the cellar came a horrible yawn, a growling lip-smacking groan as the Worm awoke from its sleep and slithered in its tight compartment, banging its body on the side walls. Nix dropped to his knees and looked through the cracks.

“Now you've gone and done it,” he said. “The thing's awake.”

Mr. Firkin reached for an old shovel and banged the blunt end three times on the floor. “You needn't worry about the Worm. Just restless. He's totally harmless and can be trained like a dog if you show him who is boss.”

Pressing her hand to her brow, the Queen shook her head. “Enough of these constant interruptions. What, pray tell, am I to do with the lot of you?”

“Begging your pardon,” said the Devil. “We have been invited to a fête tonight. In our honor, up in the loft. You will have the chance to meet the other puppets and see for yourself that we have absolutely nothing to fear. Why, the Original himself extended the invitation—”

“Enough!” cried the Queen. “No more. There will be no celebration, and I forbid each and all to leave this room without my express permission.”

“But I assure Your Majesty, I assure you all. You have my word. This is but a kindness, a way to meet the neighbors and join the company of puppets in the museum.”

“How do we know this is not some other plot and fancy? No, I say, I forbid it. And I'll not have another word on the subject.”

The Good Fairy stood up to speak, and Mr. Firkin lifted the shovel over his head. “One more word out of you,” he said, “and you'll be kindling. You heard the Queen. It is forbidden.”

The threat of violence chastened them all, and they returned to their places. Nix picked up three balls and commenced juggling. The Three Sisters retired to the trough and swooned. Visibly shaken, the Queen sought the counsel of Mr. Firkin in a private spot.

Under the miniature puppets dangling from the crossbeams, the conspirators huddled together as far away as possible, given the tiny confines. The Devil sat on his tail and wrenched it from under his legs. Noë fought the temptation to play with her new hair, but the Good Fairy was stolid as a tree. They said nothing at first, pretending to sulk, but Kay could see in her friends' eyes the determination to thwart the royal edict.

“The Queen has gone too far this time,” the Devil said. “Does the power reside in the monarch or in the people?”

“Ever since you've come to Vermont,” the Good Fairy said, “you've become a regular socialist.”

“When in Rome…” He smiled and stroked his beard. “We must convince the others to stand up to them, to go with us, then old Firkin won't be able to use his scare tactics.”

Kay pointed to the Queen on her throne and Firkin whispering in her ear. “You won't persuade those two. Or Nix, either—he does what the fat man asks. And I don't think the Old Hag is brave enough to join the cause. That makes four for them, and four for us.”

“What about the Three Sisters?” the Good Fairy asked. “They seem too dissolute to care about politics one way or another.”

The Devil tapped his horny nails together. “You must give the voters a reason to vote. Leave it to me.”

World-weary, trapped in their sense of life as a gray and dismal condition which must be endured, the Sisters lay in deep and listless indolence. The Devil crept into their boudoir.

“Old
chort.
” Olya barely lifted her head. “So heppy to see you again, dahlink.”

“
Mesdames,
you are looking well. Beautiful Olya, elegant Masha, and ravishing Irina.”

Sighing, they sat up to hear his flattery.

“We are planning a revolution. Join the masses and we'll be seven to four. Five if you count the Dog, though I'm not sure he is a radical. I want to take you out of this place. Some music, some dancing. A little romance, perhaps?”

Fluffing her cottony hair, Irina sat up straighter.

“There's a bunch of Russian dissidents. Refuseniks. They haven't seen one of their countrywomen in ages.”

While the younger two responded with interest to the news, Olya frowned.

“There are others, darling,” said the Devil. “A samurai, perhaps? A pair of young and foolish men who like to swap lovers. And there are many more puppets besides, up in the loft.”

“I will go,” Olya said. “Not for some man but for the sake of freedom and revolution.”

The conspiracy of puppets marched to the other side of the room to confront the Queen. She wobbled and nearly fainted when they told her they were going to the loft and that they would not, could not be stopped. When Mr. Firkin reached for his shovel, he was stopped by the iron grip of the Devil's left hand.

“This is treason. Unhand me, imp.”

The Queen waved him aside with an imperial flutter. She shook her head sadly. “I suppose this day was inevitable, what with such sedition all around. But you should know that I act only in the interests of my people. Yes, it may seem a perfectly charming invitation, and we ourselves have been yearning for some new company, new conversation, for some time. But the rules are made for your protection. You will remember that we did not consort with the Original back at the toy shop. He in the Front Room, and we in the Back Room. It was better that way. Safer from his unpredictable nature.”

The puppets gathered at the door into the dark.

The Queen abdicated her power. “Go, if you must, but take heed you are not tempted to lose your place or forget your roles. We are as we are and have been long before we came to this … barn. Always behave with your integrity and pedigree intact. As puppets of the Quatre Mains.”

Nix set down his juggling balls and groveled at her feet. “I should like to go as well, Your Highness.”

“Where are we going?” the Old Hag hollered and lifted the fan of her hand to her ear.

As the Queen and her lackey Mr. Firkin sat together forlornly in the empty halls, the others set off for the celebration. Even the Dog joined the Devil's entourage. They had just rounded the corner to the vestibule on their way to the stairs when a loud croaking sigh seeped through the floorboards, followed by a bang on the walls below as the Worm twitched in its lair.

*   *   *

Egon picked the constellations from the sky, remembering his childhood in Québec and his father naming the stars to him. Nights had been their time together. Under the cover of darkness and away from inquisitive strangers, they would escape in its thrall, their differences diminished when they were alone. He lit a cheroot and blew smoke at the heavens, wondering what had become of the old bastard. He enjoyed his little cigar down to the end.