Tamora Carter

by Jim Hines

  “What is it?” asked Tamora.

  “Bad smells. Shouldn’t be here.” Gulk yanked down the zipper of his hoodie and hugged the silver sequins on his T-shirt.

  Tamora raised her stick. “Stay behind me.”

  The trees at the outer edge were pines, uniform in height and appearance. Karina’s family had probably planted them when they built the house. Beyond, maples and scattered birch trees fought for space. Their fat roots gnarled the earth.

  Further on, the leaves overhead blocked out all but a few slivers of sunlight. Tamora heard the river, maybe thirty feet away, but the whine of mosquitoes she’d normally expect to hear was absent. A deeper buzzing to the right pulled her attention in that direction. She expected a wasp or hornet nest. Instead, through leaves and branches, she spied something deep red. “This way.”

  A short hike later, she stood before a tree that reminded her of a weeping willow, only the leaves were the dark red of autumn, with veins that glinted silver. The pale bark of the vine-like branches had the same silver sheen.

  This had to be it. A tree from another world. She used her stick to separate the curtain of branches—and bit back a scream at the sight of two goblins slumped against the trunk. Gulk squealed and hid behind her. Mac started to moan.

  “The poor things,” said Karina. “Are they dead?”

  “Their chests aren’t moving.” Tamora swallowed and stepped closer. The branches brushed her arms, making her cringe.

  Unlike the other goblins she’d seen, these two carried nothing from this world. They wore the same style of leather loincloth that Gulk had under his yoga pants. One had a crude knife through his belt. The other carried a stick with several square nails pounded through one end.

  She didn’t see any blood. It was like they’d come through the tree, sat down to rest, and simply died.

  “I’ve never seen a dead body before,” Karina said quietly.

  “Gulk, do you know who they were?” Tamora turned around. “Gulk?”

  The goblin had vanished.

  “What do we do?” asked Karina. “We can’t leave them here.”

  Tamora stretched her stick toward the foot of the goblin closest to her. It felt disrespectful, but she didn’t want to get too close. She half-expected the goblin to jolt awake and yell at her for poking him.

  The wood touched the goblin with a faint clink. Tamora frowned and stretched out a hand. The goblin’s foot was cold and hard, like glass. “They’re not real.”

  “Yes, they are,” said Karina. The flatness of her words gave Tamora chills. “Something did this to them. Turned them to glass and left them here.”

  “As a warning,” guessed Tamora.

  Karina combed her fingers through the willow branches. “Stay away or die.”

  Chapter 8: Words Unspoken

  “What are you doing, Mac?” asked Tamora.

  Her brother was pacing circles around the tree, moaning to himself. “Circling. Widgets guns.” He scowled and tapped the screen again. “Widdershins.”

  She blinked in confusion. “Widdershins?”

  If anything could snap Mac out of his distress, it was talking about his favorite subject. “It means counter-clockwise. There’s a fairy tale called Childe Rowland. The King of Elfland takes Childe Rowland’s sister to the Dark Tower. Childe Rowland’s brothers try to get her back, but in the end, he has to rescue them all. He circles a hill three times widdershins to get through. He also cuts the heads off anyone who refuses to help him. Parts of the fairy tale showed up in Stephen King’s Dark Tower series.”

  Mac continued to talk about the origin and evolution of Childe Rowland as he walked. He’d gone a lot more than three laps without showing any sign of vanishing into another world, but Tamora didn’t stop him. Movement helped Mac deal with tension and anxiety, and right now they had plenty of both to go around.

  Tamora looked at the goblins. “Karina, can you change them back? With your…your magic?”

  “I don’t know how.” She stretched one hand toward the closer of the goblins. Nothing happened.

  Gulk had smelled magic on another person, too. Someone who had access to the willow tree. “How well do you know Ms. Anna?”

  Karina wiped her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “Someone used magic on these goblins, and Gulk said—”

  “I know what the goblin said,” Karina snapped. Each word was sharp and cold enough to cause frostbite. “Ms. A has worked for my father for years. She cried when Kevin vanished. She’s been there for me and Kevin as long as I can remember. She taught me to ride a bike and play the flute, drove me to cheerleading practice, helped me get ready for my first dance… If she smelled of magic, maybe it’s because she lives here. She’s been soaking up whatever weird magic radiation this tree’s been putting out, just like me. If she wanted to kidnap my brother, she could have done it a long time ago.”

  “All right,” said Tamora. “But somebody brought Andre, Lizzy, and Kevin to this tree. Somebody turned these goblins to glass. Do you have security cameras or anything like that?”

  “One watching the front yard and driveway, and another for the backyard, but nothing beyond the fence. The police looked through all our footage. They didn’t find anything.”

  Tamora forced herself to return to the trunk of the tree. She kept to the side opposite the goblins. With one hand, she gently touched the dry, cracked bark. “Andre, can you hear me?”

  “They can’t hear anything,” said Karina.

  Tamora tried peeling the bark from the trunk, but succeeded only in driving a sliver beneath her fingernail. She hissed in pain and used her teeth to dig it free. “We have to find a way through. Gulk said there was a key. Whoever took Andre and Kevin and Lizzy, whoever transformed those two goblins, they’ve got to have it.”

  “It’s not Ms. Anna,” said Karina.

  “Why are you being so stubborn?” Tamora snapped. “Is that your magic speaking? Or is it what you want to believe?”

  She stomped away without waiting for an answer, pushing through ferns and branches until she reached the river. There were no fresh footprints, nor any sign of disturbance along the muddy, grassy earth.

  Was this was what Mac felt sometimes? Bursting with emotions and energy and no way to get it all out. She wanted to scream. At the tree, at Karina…at everything. She twisted her fists into the hem of her shirt.

  Crunching footsteps told her Mac and Karina had followed.

  “We don’t know who or what did this,” said Mac. “We’ve seen goblins. Gulk talked about a dragon. Who knows what else might be here that we haven’t seen.”

  “Exactly,” said Karina. “We can’t assume it’s Ms. Anna. She’s like a mother to me. How would you feel if I accused your father of doing this?”

  “My father doesn’t smell of magic.” Tamora knew she was pushing too hard, but she couldn’t stop herself. The words just kept coming, tangled up in anger and fear and helplessness. “Do you even want to find your brother?”

  As soon as the question escaped, Tamora wanted to pull it back, but it was too late. Karina jerked away with tears in her eyes.

  “Maybe we should go,” said Mac.

  “Maybe you should.” Karina stared at the tree—no, she looked more like she was staring through it. “I’ll bring a blanket to cover the goblins so they don’t get damaged.”

  “Be careful,” said Tamora.

  Karina didn’t answer.

  * * *

  “Be patient with Karina,” Ms. Anna said from the driver’s seat. “She’s had a hard time since Kevin went missing. She lashes out because she’s hurting, the poor dear.”

  “I understand.” Tamora sat with her brother in the back of the van. Could this have been any more of a disaster? Gulk had run off, and now Karina was mad at her because Tamora couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

  “What happened to your friend Greg?” asked Ms. Anna.

  “He walked home when Karina got upset. He doesn’t like fights.�
� That was true enough.

  “I understand,” Ms. Anna said sadly. “I’ve tried to talk to her, but half the time, I don’t know if she even hears. Her mind is in another world.” She continued before Tamora could interrupt to ask what she meant by that. “What about you, Mac? Did you have a good time today?”

  Mac was running his fingers up and down the edge of the seat belt shoulder strap. He paused long enough to slide his right hand between the second and third fingers of his left.

  “He can’t talk right now,” said Tamora. “That’s the sign he makes when he needs a break. I think today was a little overwhelming for him.” She leaned forward, watching Ms. Anna’s face. “Do you think they’ll find Kevin?”

  Ms. Anna turned her head slightly, as if she could feel the intensity of Tamora’s stare. “I hope so. For the whole family’s sake. And I hope you’ll give Karina another chance. She needs friends.”

  With those words, the guilt that had been gnawing Tamora’s stomach took a huge chomp. She pulled out her phone and sent a quick text message.

  Tamora: I’m sorry I snapped at you. I didn’t mean to be such a jerk about Ms. Anna and your brother.

  She glanced at Ms. Anna, trying to imagine her using magic to kill those poor goblins. All she saw was a grown-up worried for a girl who might as well be her daughter.

  When they reached the house, Tamora still hadn’t gotten an answer to her text. Climbing out of the van, she wondered when or if she’d hear from Karina again.

  * * *

  Tamora woke up angry the next morning. Her jaw hurt from having clenched it through the night. She climbed out of bed and sat at her desk, staring at news printouts and trying to figure out what to do next. Even if she miraculously managed to find the key to open the portal, what did she think she was going to accomplish? There was a whole other world beyond that red willow. Andre could be anywhere. She was more likely to get killed by elves or monsters than to find her friend.

  Gulk had called her queen of the goblins. What a joke. She didn’t know magic. She didn’t know anything. How was a twelve-year-old girl supposed to stop a war in another world?

  When she finally got up to leave her room, she stepped on a folded sheet of paper that had been shoved beneath her door. Mac had scrawled a quick note: Went to library to look for more stories.

  She got dressed and texted Karina again before starting her chores—quietly, so she wouldn’t wake Dad. While the animals scarfed down their food, Tamora grabbed a packet of Pop Tarts and plopped down on the living room sofa. She smiled, remembering Gulk’s reaction to the “magic bread” and wondering what he and his friends were up to. He’d probably fled to the junkyard. Hopefully they’d be safe there.

  Once she was done, she let the dog out and used her smartphone to do a search for “Anna Sterling.” She didn’t find much: a few social media sites with the privacy settings locked down, an entry on a high school alumni website from fourteen years ago…nothing that screamed, I’m an evil wizard from another world who’s come to steal your children.

  “Fine, maybe I was wrong about Ms. Anna,” she muttered. “But somebody took Kevin and Andre and Lizzy out of their own homes, and nobody noticed anything. No signs of fighting. No strange vehicles. Nothing that disturbed anyone else in their houses or on the street.”

  She nibbled at her thumbnail, thinking of Karina. “The path untraveled led you away with words unspoken you dared not disobey.”

  Could words unspoken mean something written instead? A note? Possibly a threat? Come to the red willow at a certain time, or else.

  Or else what? Lizzy O’Neil was ten years old. If she got a note like that, she’d probably go straight to her parents or another adult.

  Maybe she should join Mac at the library and see if he’d found anything in his stories. Hopefully Ms. Pookie was working again this morning. She and Mac always got along well. Whereas some of Mac’s teachers had tried to make him sit still and stop fiddling with his hands, Ms. Pookie encouraged him to move as much as he needed. Tamora remembered laughing at the sight of Mac rocking so hard he nearly fell out of his chair, while Ms. Pookie danced through the library to that old Cyndi Lauper song, “True Colors.”

  Words unspoken.

  Tamora’s mouth went dry. What if words unspoken didn’t mean a note? What if it meant a song? Something like the Pied Piper, who’d used his flute to lead all the rats out of town, and then all of the children.

  She fumbled for her phone and pulled up Andre’s last messages.

  Andre: “Hey, when you come by, remind me to show you the new expansion pack I found for Dragon’s War IV. It’s got six new epic spells, and an awesome soundtrack. I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.”

  She swallowed hard, brushed Pop Tart crumbs from her shirt, scrawled a quick note letting Dad know where she was going, and went to grab her skates and helmet.

  She paused with her hand on the doorknob. This could be nothing. The prophecy might have meant something completely different. But Andre had never geeked out over a video game soundtrack before. Graphics and storyline and character customization, sure, but not music. When they gamed together, he usually turned the music off if he had the option so it wouldn’t distract him.

  Even if she was wrong, it was better to know for sure. And if she was right…figuring out how Andre had been lured away brought them one step closer to finding whoever was responsible.

  Chapter 9: Dragon Song

  Andre’s family lived in the northwest part of town. It took Tamora a quarter of an hour to skate to their house on Dean Avenue. She coasted down the sidewalk to catch her breath as the old one-story home came into view.

  Tamora hadn’t been here since Andre’s disappearance. She’d thought about it. Dad had offered to come with her. But she’d flinched at the idea of walking into that house and not finding Andre at his console or arguing with his sisters.

  Guilt and shame formed a lump in her throat. She rolled up the driveway to the familiar brick walk and wooden steps. Well-tended flowers surrounded the porch: petunias and marigolds and little purple things she couldn’t identify. A faded ceramic plaque by the door said, The Stewarts. She grabbed the handrail, climbed up, and rang the doorbell.

  Footsteps creaked closer, and the door swung open. Mrs. Stewart pushed open the screen door. “Tamora! It’s good to see you, sweetheart. What can I do for you?”

  Tamora opened her mouth to speak, but her throat clamped shut. Her eyes watered. She blinked hard, furious at her emotions and their unexpected betrayal, but she couldn’t force them back.

  Mrs. Stewart stepped onto the porch and pulled Tamora into a hug.

  The last of Tamora’s self-control shattered. She sobbed into Mrs. Stewart’s shirt, her shoulders shaking. Everything she’d been fighting to hold back, all her fear and anger and helplessness, everything spilled out like a flood through a broken dam.

  Mrs. Stewart gestured to someone in the house. A moment later, Andre’s oldest sister Beth-Ann pressed a tissue into Tamora’s hand.

  “Thank you.” Tamora wiped her nose. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t you apologize to me,” Mrs. Stewart said. Her words were kind but firm, leaving no room for argument. “You cry as long as you need. Lord knows I have.”

  Tamora took a shallow, shaky breath. A part of her wanted to fall apart. Instead, she folded the tissue and wiped her eyes with the dry part. “I’m sorry for not coming over to say…I don’t know. To say how sorry I was.”

  Sorry, sorry, sorry. Couldn’t her brain come up with anything except “sorry”? She groaned and turned away, blinking back new tears.

  “Come inside, Tamora.”

  She sniffed and stepped into the house. Beth-Ann had returned to the couch, where she was flipping through an architecture magazine. She smiled at Tamora, but her expression was like a mask stretched to the breaking point.

  Everywhere Tamora looked triggered memories of Andre. The two of them had pulled the cushions off the living roo
m furniture to build a fort for an epic Nerf gun battle last year. Tamora had discovered her coconut allergy by puking on this very carpet. And how many times had they snuck into the kitchen to steal Fig Newtons from the back of the pantry?

  Then there were the photographs hanging proudly on the back wall. School photos of Andre and his sisters. Family photos taken by his great-aunt every fall, with backgrounds of orange and brown leaves.

  How could they live like this, surrounded by constant reminders of that missing part of their family?

  “Have you heard anything?” Tamora asked softly as she removed her skates.

  “Not yet.” Mrs. Stewart’s eyes shone with unshed tears. “Charlie and I take turns going out, talking to everyone who might have seen him that night after he left the house. The police dogs couldn’t track him. Too many trails from all his coming and going. For a boy who spends so much time in front of his video games, he sure gets around.”

  Tamora wanted to tell her everything, that Andre was alive, that he’d been trapped in another world for more than a year, that he was in danger and she didn’t know how to save him. Instead, feeling guiltier with each word, she said only, “I miss him.”

  “We all do, sweetheart.”

  “How do you…?” She trailed off again. “I’ve tried to be strong, like you.”

  Mrs. Stewart escorted her into the kitchen, where she took a can of lemonade from the fridge and handed it to Tamora. “I’m only strong when people are looking. Because I have to be.” She grabbed a dishrag and began wiping the stove. “This is what I do. I clean. I look after Charlie and our girls, and great-aunt Sally. I go to work.”

  Mrs. Stewart worked part-time as a realtor. Her husband Charlie was a state employee in Lansing.

  “I’ve been doing the same thing,” Tamora admitted. “Trying to keep busy. I’m scared if I stop…”

  “You won’t be able to start moving again.” Mrs. Stewart smiled sadly. “Andre’s lucky to have a friend like you. He laughs all the time, but it’s different with you. More genuine. Not many people you can trust enough to let your guard down like that.”