Witch Catcher (9 page)

I moved a little closer. "I don't understand. Why did your mother send you here?"

"It be a long story and hard to tell, but it was during the Third War of the Witches that our troubles began," Kieryn said. "My father, the king, was newly dead, and the witches rose up, stronger than ever. They come after Brynn and me, planning to kill us, I expect, on account of our royal blood. Mam led us deep, deep into the forest to a tall oak tree. Its trunk was so big, ten folk couldn't have joined hands and reached around it. Ye might say it were the king of the trees. Mam held up the pendant, and a door opened in the tree, a door into the darkest dark ye ever saw.

Kieryn shuddered, and Tink crept into her lap, purring as if to comfort her. "Mam slipped the chain over my head. 'Guard this stone well,' she said, 'for ye can't come home without it.' With that, she pushed us through the door and shouted 'Run, run. and keep running till ye come out the other side.' And we did—my brother. Brynn, and me and our three aunties. We ran through the dark and the cold, thinking Mam were following us."

She paused to wipe her eyes on the sleeve of the nightgown. "We five come out into a forest, but Mam weren't with us. I started to run back into the dark for her, but the tree closed itself up all ordinary-like, and there was only bark where the door had been. Brynn and I beat on it with our fists and called Mam, but she didn't open the door, she didn't come out."

Kieryn turned her head away, but even with her back to me, I knew she was crying and didn't want me to see. "I tried the stone, but it didn't work. The aunties said it were too soon to go home."

I put my arm around her skinny little shoulders, and Tink nestled closer, purring and rubbing his face against hers. He always sensed when I needed comforting and did his best to make me feel better. Now he was doing the same for Kieryn.

"Oh, Jen," she whispered, "we was in a strange place, not our world, but yers. All dark arid sad, with no magic—and no Mam."

Taking Tink with her, Kieryn slid off the bed and went to the window. "Then we saw that tower." She pointed across the yard. "It had the bosky feel of magic—but good or bad, we couldn't tell. An old man with a beard were standing in the doorway, staring at us like he could scarce believe his eyes. It were Mostyn ... yer dimbob uncle. He called out to us, all nicey-nice, but we didn't dare trust him. Off we ran, down the hid, and into the woods."

Kieryn clenched her fists. "That's when we spied
her
and
him
and the hound snarking through the trees. Somehow they'd come through the door, searching, seeking, sniffing, as witches do. Lucky for us, our three aunties know plenty of magic, more than Brynn and me, 'cause we're just young. They made hiding spells to keep us all safe."

Kieryn came back to the bed. "After that we was cautious," she went on. "We kept a close watch on the tower and this big old house. We knew yer uncle had a gift, else he wouldn't have seen us so quick. Most of yer kind are such dimbobs they never notice us passing through yer world. Too smart he were. Too learned in our ways."

I remembered the old books in the tower, filled with strange letters like the runes carved on the door. Uncle Thaddeus had stayed up there night and day, Dad said. He was eccentric, odd, mistrusted by the people in town. Had he been studying magic? Witchcraft?

"I suspect there be a bit of yer uncle in ye," Kieryn said. "Somehow ye knew to hide that globe from
her,
ye knew not to trust
her
or
him.
But ye trust me, do ye not?"

I forced myself to return Kieryn's steady gaze. "Yes," I said. "I do trust you." But even as I spoke, I felt as if I was wading into a dark pool; with every step I took, I sank deeper into the murky water.

"But smart as that old rascal was, he weren't no match for
her
," Kieryn went on with her story. "Soon
her
came calling on him, all pretty pretty and sweet. In a blink of a lizard's eye, she wove her fossicky spells, till yer uncle couldn't ted a snog from a wergle. She warned him that strange creatures had been seen near his tower. They was evil, she said. Dangerous. They came from another world, they wasn't human like him and
her.
Her
gave the little-wit dozens of them pisky traps, all hidden away in velvet bags so she couldn't see them and get caught herself. Hang the traps in the woods, she said. And that's just what Mostyn done."

Kieryn rose from the bed and prowled around my room, as restless as Tink. "Oh, so pretty them traps were, like they had rainbows inside, swinging from branches, tinkling like bells when they bumped up against each other, asparkle with sunshine by day and moonshine by night. Nary a one of us, not even the aunties, could stay away from them skitzy things. They pulled us and tugged at us. First Brynn got sucked in, then the aunties. I were last, holding fast to a tree. But even with my eyes tight shut, I could see them colors in my mind, drawing me closer, closer."

She wrapped her arms around herself and shuddered. "Just as I lost my grip on the tree, I opened my eyes and there was Mostyn, staring at me like I were a dream come true. Then—
poof!
—I were inside the globe, looking out at him. He stuck his boshy old face up close to the glass and told me he'd give the others to her but aimed to keep me for hisself."

Kieryn scowled. "It weren't on account he were a good man and he were aiming to save me," she said. "No, that weren't it at all. Mostyn wanted me because I were a right interesting specimen, and he wanted to study me."

She sighed and stopped pacing long enough to look out the window. "The next day,
her
came calling, and Mostyn gave her four full traps and the empty ones as well, all packed up in them velvet bags. He told her that were all he had. A good lie for me that was, but bad for Brynn and the aunties. Away they went with
her,
a clinking and a clanking in the bags till I don't wonder they was all sick."

Kieryn fed silent for a moment. Tink rubbed against her ankles, purring, and she picked him up.

"
Her
didn't believe Mostyn," she said. "Back
her
came time and time again, always asking for me, and Mostyn always saying he caught but four demons and already gave them to her. Soon
her
was living in the house, just like she is now."

"Did my uncle love her, too? Just like Dad?"

"I reckon he thought he did, for surely he were under her spell, just like yer daddy. After all, ain't love potions witches' work?"

"But if she enchanted my uncle, why didn't he give her the trap?"

"He'd learned himself some magic from them big old bosky books in the tower, just enough, I reckon, to keep
her
from getting me. Meanwhile, he'd started painting those pictures of me—pictures he kept hidden from
her.
But
her
kept on with the nicey-nice, sugartime sweet, hoping to break his sped. Then one day //ergot tired of waiting and done a nasty that made Mostyn go all sideways and crooked like. He couldn't walk or talk right afterward, but afore she'd done her bad spell on him, he'd sealed the tower door agin her with a charm he knew, and she couldn't get in to fossick me away."

Kieryn perched on the edge of the bed and gazed at me. "So there I stayed, watching day to night, day to night through them swirly colors, with my head getting more and more wooly. Till ye came and stole me away to yer room and hung me all secret in the window and never knowed I was inside watching ye and crying to be let out."

Kieryn smiled. "Ye and Tink done me a good deed, and I won't forget it, but I got something more to ask of ye. A favor, like. Friend to friend." She twirled a lock of hair around her finger and pulled it tight. "It be a hard favor, Jen, but I need yer help to rescue my brother and my aunties."

Caught up in her story, I squeezed Kieryn's hands. She was my friend, she'd just said so, a friend like no other I'd ever have. Without thinking, I said, "Of course I will."

She hesitated a moment and then said, "I'll be leading ye into peril, Jen. Her be more dangerous than ye know. We must be ever on guard against
her
and
him
and their fossicky ways. They want me terrible bad."

I shivered and held Kieryn's hands tighter. Moura was my enemy as well as hers. No matter how dangerous the witch was, I had to save Dad—and Kieryn, too. For once in my life, I needed to be brave. Truly brave.

Suddenly, Kieryn tensed. "Hers coming," she whispered. "I hear her car. Quick, take the pendant. Hide it. Keep it safe. It be the key to my world."

She thrust the stone at me, and I closed my hand around it cautiously, almost fearfully. It felt warm and smooth—and magical.

"
Her
needs this to get her wickedly bad self back to our world," Kieryn whispered. "Ye must not let
her
get it.
Her
means naught but harm to my kinkind."

I looked around my room, seeking a hiding place. My mother's old jewelry box sat on my bureau, tilled with strings of beads, tarnished chains, and an assortment of bracelets and earrings.

"That's the first place
her
will look," Kieryn said.

I shook my head. "I read a story once about a stolen letter. Everybody was hunting for it, but they never thought to look in the most obvious place—the letter rack."

I made a little hole in the lining of the box, pushed the pendant inside, and dumped the jewelry back inside. "There!"

Kieryn looked skeptical. "
Her
and
him
are good sniffers, ye know. And so's the hound." Dropping to the floor, she crawled under my bed and pried up a piece of floorboard. She then held out her hand for the box.

Kieryn lowered it into the space she'd made and laid the board over it. She remained under the bed for a few moments more, chanting words I couldn't understand.

"There." She crawled out with a grin on her face. "I put my best spell on it. Let's hope
her
won't find it."

We went back to the window. Moura's sleek little car drew up to the house, its headlights dim in the rain. Wordlessly, Kieryn, Tink, and I watched the car's door open. The interior light came on, revealing Moura in her usual glamorous red and black—a long, sweeping black skirt, a white lacy blouse, and a black jacket patterned with red flames.

"Witch colors," Kieryn hissed.

Cadoc leapt out of the car and watched Dad run through the rain to help Moura with her suitcases.

"She's not wearing her tinted glasses," I said.

"They keep
her
from seeing the colors in the witch trap," Kieryn whispered. "
Her
don't need 'em now the trap's been broke."

Hoping Dad wouldn't call me to join him and Moura, I grabbed a book and flung myself on the bed. Kieryn curled up beside me, and in an instant transformed herself. Now she looked for all the world like an ordinary little gray cat.

"Tell me about yer mam," she said. "She must not be hereabouts or yer daddy wouldn't be all sheep-eyed, lovey-dovey over for"

I sighed. "My mother died when I was a baby."

Kieryn snuggled closer. "Oh, poor Jen. If I knew I'd never see Mam again, my heart would break into a million billion pieces." Her voice was as comforting as a cat's purr.

I swallowed hard. "I never even knew her." I picked up the picture on the chest beside my bed. "This is how my mother looked just after she married Dad. They were in Bermuda, on their honeymoon."

Kieryn studied the photo. My mother wore tan shorts and a red T-shirt. She was laughing, her head tilted, long blond hair swinging out to the side. Behind her was the ocean and a blue sky.

"She were beautiful, Jen."

"She was." I put Mom's picture on the chest and studied her as I had so often. I longed to know what lay behind that laughing face—her thoughts, her feelings, what she loved, what she didn't love. But she was gone from this world. She couldn't answer my questions; she couldn't help me. And she couldn't help Dad.

Catlike, Kieryn rubbed her furry gray face against mine. "We'd save yer father, Jen, I promise ye.
Her
won't have him. We'll put an end to
her
and her skitzy ways. I got some magic, ye know."

I lay on my bed, with Tink purring on one side and Kieryn purring on the other. For the moment, I felt warm and safe. Kieryn would help me. Somehow we'd defeat Moura.

Kieryn nudged my book with her paw. "Read to me," she whispered. "I ain't heard a story for longer than long."

"It's
The Woman in White,
" I told her. "I borrowed it from Uncle Thaddeus's library. I haven't read much, so I'll go back and start at the beginning."

We hadn't gotten to the end of the first chapter when Dad called me. "Jen, please come down and set the table. Dinner's almost ready."

I didn't answer, just went on reading. Dad called again, closer this time. It sounded as if he was at the foot of the steps.

Kieryn put her paw on the book. "It's best ye go," she whispered. "Next thing he'll be up here, fussy fussing at ye. Her will be on his side, ye know, always trying to make him love
her
best."

"Dad would never let Moura come between us," I protested. "I'm his daughter. He loves me."

"Don't make him be choosing between
her
and ye.
Her
has spells and magic and charms. Ye got nothing but yer little girly self."

I scowled at the gray cat. "Dad would choose me, I know he would." But even as I spoke, my voice faltered. I'd read fairy tales where the evil stepmother convinced the father to abandon his children. With Kieryn in cat form sitting beside me, fairy tales were easier to believe than true stories.

I closed the book with an angry snap and stood up, unwilling to listen to another word. Kieryn had frightened me. Suppose Moura cast a spell so strong that Dad stopped loving me?

At the door, I looked back at Kieryn. "Are you coming downstairs with me?"

"Nay." She curled into a soft ball of gray fur and shut her eyes. "Her hates cats. And so do her hound."

"Jen, do I have to come up there?" Dad shouted.