Witch Catcher

by Mary Downing Hahn

  Tink came out from under the bed and rubbed against Dad's legs. In the dark hair, Cadoc growled and slunk toward the cat. Moura laid her hand on his head and murmured something. The dog whined and sat down beside her.

  "Where is Mist?" Moura asked.

  Before I could answer, she was down on her knees beside the bed. In a moment, she sprang back up, a squirming kitten in each hand. Tink hissed at her. but she wasn't interested in him, only in the two she'd captured.

  "Look," she said to Dad, "Jen's brought home another stray."

  "Give them to me." I reached for the kittens, but Moura stepped away. "They're mine."

  "Jen," Dad said. "Where did the second one come from?"

  "The woods," I stammered, "just like Mist. Make her give them to me, Dad."

  "Feral cats don't make good pets," Moura said. "Just look at the way they're snarling at me. They'd love to scratch my eyes out."

  Forgetting everything but Kieryn and Brynn, I dung myself at Moura and grabbed at the kittens. "Give them to me, you witch!"

  "Jen!" Dad seized me and pulled me away from Moura. "What are you doing? Control yourself!"

  Moura strode toward the door, holding the kittens by the nape of their necks. They struggled, their fur bristled, their tails lashed, they yowled and hissed. "You can't allow Jen to behave like this," Moura told Dad. "She must be punished."

  I fought Dad, pummeling him with my fists, kicking at his legs, flailing this way and that. "Let me go!" I screamed. "Don't let that witch take my kittens! She'll hurt them."

  Moura went out into the hall, followed by Cadoc. He rose up on his hind legs and snapped at Brynn and Kieryn. "Not yet," Moura whispered to the dog. "Be patient."

  Dad looked at me in despair. "Jen, what's happened to change you so? How can you be so hateful?"

  I clung to him and begged him not to listen to Moura, but he pushed me away and left the room. The door slammed shut.

  "Lock it," I heard Moura say. "She won't stay there unless you do."

  "But—" Dad began.

  "You must punish her," Moura cut in. "She was rude to me. Disrespectful. I cannot possibly marry you if you allow your daughter to say and do whatever she pleases."

  "But, Moura," Dad began again.

  "She's a liar as well." Moura went on as if Dad hadn't spoken. "I don't believe she was sleeping up here while we searched for her. Heaven knows where she was or what she was doing. She'll be completely out of control if you don't put an end to this right now."

  "Jen never used to act like this." Dad's voice broke. "I don't know what's wrong with her."

  I'd heard enough. I ran to the door and pounded on it. "Dad," I cried. "Dad, can't you see what's she doing? It's her fault things have changed. She's evil, she's—"

  "Put a stop to it," Moura hissed at Dad. "Or I swear I will walk out of this house and never return."

  "That's enough, Jen," Dad said, his voice suddenly cold and firm. "Stay here and think about your behavior."

  The key turned in the lock.

  The kittens cried once in distress. Moura's quick, sharp steps clattered down the stairs. Cadoc's toenails clicked behind her. Dad followed more slowly.

  I lay on the floor and looked under my door at the empty hall. Maybe Kieryn and Brynn would come scampering back on mouse feet or hopping on cricket legs or slithering on snake bellies. Surely they'd And a way to escape from Moura.

  I waited. And waited. And waited. The wooden floor grew harder. And colder.

  But nothing came—not a mouse, not a cricket, not a snake. Kieryn and Brynn weren't strong enough to escape from Moura. Unless I could figure out a way to rescue them, she would trap them again—forever this time.

  16

  HOURS LATER, LONG before dawn, I woke up, stiff from sleeping on the floor. Moonlight filled my room. My walls were patterned with swaying shadows cast by the trees outside. The house was dead silent.

  I stood up and tried the door. Still locked. I pounded on it anyway, hoping Dad would hear me and relent. But even though I beat on the wood till my fists ached, no one came.

  Tink meowed from the windowsill. I ran to his side and poked my head out into the cool night air. The lawn lay far below, silver where the moonlight struck it. Dad's new shovel lay beside the flower bed, its newly turned earth a dark patch in the grass. He must have started working on it after Mr. Ashbourne left with the paintings.

  If Kieryn had been with me, I could have become a bat or a bird and flown out of my room. But without her help, I couldn't change my shape. No matter how hard I concentrated on wings and tails and feathers, I remained a girl.

  "Oh, Tink," I whispered. "How can I save Kieryn and Brynn?"

  His tail swished back and forth. He hunched forward and stretched his neck to peer at the shadowy lawn. In the dark ness under the oak tree, something moved. Tink and I drew back, afraid it was Moura.

  Below my window, a strange old woman stepped cautiously into the moonlight. Her back was bent, and she leaned heavily on a cane, but she wore big black hiking boots with yellow shoelaces, purple- and pink-striped stockings, a yellow polka-dot dress with lace trim, and an enormous black straw hat strewn with dowers. To top it off, her long, bushy hair was Day-Glo pink. Shading her eyes with one hand, she surveyed the house. After a moment, she beckoned, and two more old women joined her.

  The first was tall and skinny, and the second was short and fat. The tall one wore a long, loose purple dress that floated around her like gauze. Her hat was lime green and hugged her head like a cloche, hiding all her features except a pointed nose and chin. The hair spilling down her back was a glorious blue. On her feet she wore ankle-high red tennis shoes with spike heels.

  The short one's wild mop of curly green hair burst from under a tiny red and yellow beanie. Her tent-shaped dress was covered with flowers in bright colors, and her shoes were orange with platform soles.

  I blinked twice, three times, and rubbed my eyes, sure I was dreaming. But even after I'd pinched myself, the trio refused to vanish.

  "Where do ye think her be?" the leader asked.

  "In yon big housie," the short one said.

  "It's a big, big, bigsy housie," the tall one observed in a mournful voice. "We'll never find her, search as we will."

  "Nae fear," the short one said. "We'd sniff for out like we always does. Her carina hide from us."

  Dropping to her knees, the leader began to crawl toward the house, sniffing the grass like a dog on the track of something.

  The others joined her, circling and sniffing. Gradually, both Tink and I relaxed. The old women didn't seem dangerous—just very, very odd.

  Suddenly, I remembered the dashes of light I'd seen when I broke the glass globes in Mr. Ashbourne's tower. Turning to the cat, I whispered, "It's the aunties, Tink! They must be looking for Moura."

  Tink leaned out the window and meowed loudly. I grabbed him, afraid he'd fall, and the old women looked up at me in surprise.

  "It be the human child," the leader cried. "Her who saved us!"

  Leaping to their feet, all three curtsied and bobbed around, bowing their heads.

  "Thank'ee, thankee!" they called. "Thank'ee ten times over the moon, a hundred times over the sun, and a dozen times in and out of the rainbow for breaking them cursed jimjams, them geegaws, them wicked trapsters. Thank'ee, thank'ee, thank'ee, young miss."

  "You're the aunties," I said. "You were in the traps I broke."

  "Oh, aye, we be the aunties," the leader said. "And fairies, too."

  "We be yer good fairies," the tall one said. "Nice to those that be nice to us. Not to be feared or spoke ill of. But to those that do us wicked, we—"

  "In short, for Skilda do go on and on," the leader interrupted, "we share no kinkind with tor that hides in yer housie."

  "Can ye show us the way to her lair?" the short one asked.

  "I'm locked in my room," I told them. "She made my father punish me. She took Kieryn and Brynn."

  The aunties drew close toge
ther and stared at me in dismay. "Nae, it can't be," the leader whispered. "Them two be too young to fight her. They be helpless as real kittens in her hands."

  Skilda began to weep. "Her will destroy them."

  The short one cried. "Withouten the childern, there be no way home for us."

  The leader hugged both. "Gugi, dinna cry and fash yerself. Skilda, cease yer tiresome tears. We ain't defeated as easy as her believes. We'll save our wee kinkind, never doubt it."

  "Oh, Binna," Skilda sobbed. "Her be too strong—many and many times too strong."

  "And him will come to help," Gugi added. "He'll bring more traps."

  "Shut yer gaping big mouths," Binna said. "And listen to me. Both of ye. The human girl up there will take us to her. We'll sort things out right smart."

  Gugi and Skilda did their best to be quiet, but their faces were full of misery and fear. I doubted Skilda could look happy even if she tried, but Gugi seemed made for laughing, not weeping.

  "But she be locked in," Gugi reminded Binna.

  Binna looked up at me. "Ye must jump."

  "Jump?" I stared down, way down, at the three aunties. "I'd break both legs when I hit the ground. Maybe even die."

  "Ye won't be hurt, timmytim," Binna said. "We have magic, ye know."

  "But—"

  "Just do it," Binna said. "Too much thinking do more harm than good, don't ye know?"

  The three of them moved even closer together and formed a triangle below my window. They spread their arms. "Close yer eyes and jump. We'll catch ye with out magic, no harm."

  I glanced at Tink. Before I realized what he was doing, he'd leapt out the window. I leaned out after him. "My cat!"

  The aunties caught him.

  "There, ye see how quick and easy it's done?" cried Gugi.

  "Tink says he'd do it again if he could," Binna told me. "It were great fun—like a birdie flying through the air."

  Safe in Skilda's arms, Tink peered up at me. If he could do it, so could I. Slowly I stepped onto the windowsill. Far below, Skilda set Tink down, and the three aunties spread their arms to catch me as they'd caught my cat.

  Behind me was my room and my cozy bed. In front of me was the sky. Just beyond the treetops, the tower rose dark against the stars. A dim light glowed in its windows. Could Moura be there with Kieryn and Brynn?

  I looked down. The three aunties looked up. So did Tink. He had nine lives. I had one. If those good fairies failed me. if they dropped me, if I fell—well, as Binna said, thinking did more harm than good. Moura had to be stopped.

  I spread my arms. The night all kissed my face with cold. Taking a deep breath. I jumped.

  17

  TINK WAS RIGHT. It was glorious, just like flying. With barely a jolt, I landed in the aunties' arms. Bounce, bounce— and there I was, beside them. The dew on the grass chilled my bare feet.

  "Aha!" cried Gugi. "That were as easy as snog whistling!"

  I had no idea what snog whistling was, but I nodded enthusiastically. It hadn't just been easy, it had been fun—the same feeling you have when you finally jump off the high dive, splash into the water like a fish, and can't wait to do it again.

  "Now, show us where her be," Binna said. "For I fear wc have no time to waste."

  I pointed to the small lighted windows under the eaves of the tower. "I think she's up there."

  The aunties studied the windows silently. After a few moments, Binna turned to me. "Did Kieryn share with ye the ways of changing shape?"

  "Yes, but I can't do it by myself. I tried before you got here. But it just didn't work."

  "We be of the belief that bats be the best choice," Binna went on. "We can help ye be a bat with us, but if ye dinna care to change, ye can wait here."

  "I know all about being a bat," I told them, eager to dy again.

  The aunties took my hands and we formed a circle on the grass. They mumbled and swayed and talked in odd rhymes in a language I didn't know. I felt familiar sharp pains shoot through me, and in a moment all four of us were circling upward. Left behind, Tink mewed.

  Slowly we dew around the tower, peering in each window we passed. Moura was standing in the center of the room. In each hand she held a kitten by the nape of its neck. Kieryn and Brynn twisted and thrashed and yowled, but they couldn't free themselves. Moura regarded them, her eyes hidden by those glasses. At her feet, Cadoc watched, snapping at the kittens whenever he thought they might be in reach of his long, cruel muzzle.

  The aunties settled themselves in the ivy by an open window, and I snuggled beside them, loving the feel of my wings wrapped around me.

  "What do we do now?" Skilda whispered.

  Binna frowned. "Patience, ye great twit. I be thinking on it."

  "Me, too," Gugi said. "But I ain't be coming up with answers."

  In the tower, Moura spoke. "You can struggle all you wish, fairy spawn, but you won't escape this time. Ciril is on his way with traps so powerful that no human can break mem, either accidentally or deliberately"

  The kittens hissed and growled. Moura laughed. Cadoc rose on his hind legs and snapped. Moura raised the kittens higher. "They are not for you, hound!"

  "Why can't they change shapes?" I whispered to Binna. "That's what we did before."

  Binna sighed. "They be too young—fledglings, like. Their magic's not yet strong enough to defy her."

  "That's what I thought." I peered in the window again. Moura was holding Kieryn upside down by her tail, encouraging Cadoc to snap at her. I turned away, unable to watch.

  "Surely you can do something," I said to Binna.

  "Let me mull a wee while longer." Binna flipped upside down and hid her face in her wings. Gugi and Skilda did the same. And so did I. There we hung, four bats in a row, rocked gently by the wind in the ivy.

  At last Binna unfolded her wings and peered down at the moonlit lawn. "Him approaches," she squeaked.

  No sooner had she spoken than Ashbourne stepped cautiously out of the trees. He paused on the edge of the shadows, a slim figure dressed in black, bis eyes shielded by glasses. Behind him Simkins clutched two dark bags, waiting faithfully for his master to speak.

  Ashbourne was in no hurry. First he surveyed the lawn, then the house. No lights, no motion, no sound. Dad slept soundly, oblivious to every thing. I knew nothing short of an explosion would wake him. Once he fell asleep, he was gone.

  The only one watching was Tink. He sat on the terrace, as still as a statue of an Egyptian cat. No one noticed him hut me.

  Ashbourne turned his attention to the tower. All four of us snuggled deeper into the ivy, fearful he might see through our disguise.

  At last, he left the safety of the shadows and glided across the grass, his shadow skimming along beside him. Simians followed closely. I heard something in the bags clink.

  "The traps," Binna hissed. Skilda moaned and Gugi squeaked.

  At the foot of the tower, the two stopped again and looked toward the house. Still no lights, no motion, no sound. Dad slept on. undisturbed.

  We heard the door screech as it opened. Moura called, "Is that you, Ciril?"

  "Who else?" Ashbourne climbed the steps, his feet heavy on the treads.

  "Have you brought the traps?"

  "Of course."

  Binna beckoned me to take her place at the window. "Be my eyes," she whispered. "I dare not look for fear them traps will draw me in once more."

  I peeked out of the ivy. Through my bat eyes, the room was dim, blurry, out of focus, but I could see wed enough to make out Moura, Ashbourne, and Simkins, as well as the two frightened kittens. With a flourish, Ashbourne took the bags from Simians and pulled out the globes. They were magnificent, swirling with patterns of deep crimson, gold, and indigo.

  Kieryn and Brynn closed their eyes and yowled, they twisted and flailed, they raked at Moura with their claws. Cursing, she urged Ashbourne to thrust the traps so close that the globes bounced against their bodies. Even though they couldn't see the colors, they must have fe
lt their pull. With one last desperate meow, Brynn vanished. Though she fought for another moment or two, Kieryn disappeared into the other trap, sucked through the little spout in a dash.

  Ashbourne pressed the stoppers into the spouts and laughed. "Now, my little friends," he cried, "let's see you escape this time!"

  Beside me, the aunties burrowed deep into the ivy and wept tiny bat squeaks of despair. "Gone," Skilda sobbed. "Gone."

  The two globes glowed with a fierce green light. They buzzed and vibrated, but Ashbourne thrust them back into the bags and handed them to Simkins.

  "Hold on tight," he said. "Don't drop them."

  "I'll be careful, sir. Indeed I will You can trust old Simkins. The imps are safe in my hands." Simkins bowed and nodded and practically groveled at Ashbourne's feet.

  What a wretch he was. I detested him with every cell of my body—bat and human both.

  As if she read my thoughts, Binna whispered, "Do nae waste yerself hating him. Save yer strength for what's to come."

  Swiftly, silently, we dew down from the window and watched the three emerge from the tower. With Cadoc loping ahead, they crossed the lawn, their shadows inky dark. Tink still sat on the terrace, unmoving, cloaked in darkness. If the hound saw him, he gave no sign. I supposed bigger things were afoot.

  As they entered the woods, Simkins plucked at Ashbourne's sleeve. "Please don't forget your promise, sir."

  Ashbourne turned to his servant. "Promise? What promise?"

  "A few drops of their blood, sir, that's what you promised me. lust a little. You must remember, sir."

  I turned to the aunties in horror. "Their blood? Ashbourne promised Simkins some of Kieryn's and Brynn's blood?"

  They chittered to one another in bat-speak, too low and too fast for me to understand. "Tell me what you're saying," I begged.

  "Oh, there be a legend that says drink a drop or two of fairy blood and live forever and always." Binna stretched her wings and grinned. "But most legends don't tell the whole truth of it, as yon Simkins may learn."

  "Beware, be wary ware what ye ask for when ye deal wf fairies and witches," Gugi added.