The Dark made a lot of little fingers that were trying to get past the magic. There was just one hole left, so Stevie put down the black see-through rock he found that morning. Then The Dark pulled back all the little fingers and began to pour over the black rock. So, quick like a rabbit, Stevie drew a magic in the sand and The Dark pulled back into the hole again. Then Stevie marked King’s X all around the hole and ran to get some more magic rocks. He found a white one with a band of blue around the middle and another yellow one. He went back and put the rocks in front of the hole and rubbed out the King’s X. The Dark got mad and piled up behind the rocks until it was higher than Stevie’s head.
Stevie was scared, but he stood still and held tight to his pocket piece. He knew that was the magicest of all. Juanito had told him so and Juanito knew. He was ten years old and the one who told Stevie about magic in the first place. He had helped Stevie make the magic. He was the one who did the writing on the pocket piece. Of course, Stevie would know how to write after he went to school, but that was a long time away.
The Dark couldn’t ever hurt him while he held the magic, but it was kind of scary to see The Dark standing up like that in the bright hot sunshine. The Dark didn’t have any head or arms or legs or body. It didn’t have any eyes either, but it was looking at Stevie. It didn’t have any mouth, but it was mumbling at Stevie. He could hear it inside his head and the mumbles were hate, so Stevie squatted down in the sand and drew a magic again—a big magic—and The Dark jerked back into the hole. Stevie turned and ran as fast as he could until the mumbles in his ears turned into fast wind and the sound of rattling rocks on the road.
Next day Arnold came with his mother to visit at Stevie’s house. Stevie didn’t like Arnold. He was a tattletale and a crybaby even if he was a whole hand and two more fingers old. Stevie took him down to the sand wash to play. They didn’t go down where The Dark was, but while they were digging tunnels around the roots of the cottonwood tree, Stevie could feel The Dark, like a long deep thunder that only your bones could hear—not your ears. He knew the big magic he wrote in the sand was gone and The Dark was trying to get past the magic rocks.
Pretty soon Arnold began to brag.
“I got a space gun.”
Stevie threw some more sand backward. “So’ve I,” he said.
“I got a two-wheel bike.”
Stevie sat back on his heels. “Honest?”
“Sure!” Arnold talked real smarty. “You’re too little to have a two-wheel bike. You couldn’t ride it if you had one.”
“Could too.” Stevie went back to his digging, feeling bad inside. He had fallen off Rusty’s bike when he tried to ride it. Arnold didn’t know it though.
“Could not.” Arnold caved in his tunnel. “I’ve got a BB gun and a real saw and a cat with three-and-a-half legs.”
Stevie sat down in the sand. What could you get better than a cat with three-and-a-half legs? He traced a magic in the sand.
“I’ve got something you haven’t.”
“Have not.” Arnold caved in Stevie’s tunnel.
“Have too. It’s a Dark.”
“A what?”
“A Dark. I’ve got it in a hole down there.” He jerked his head down the wash.
“Aw, you’re crazy. There ain’t no dark. You’re just talking baby stuff.”
Stevie felt his face getting hot. “I am not. You just come and see.”
He dragged Arnold by the hand down the wash with the sand crunching under foot like spilled sugar and sifting in and out of their barefoot sandals. They squatted in front of the hole. The Dark had pulled way back in so they couldn’t see it.
“I don’t see nothing.” Arnold leaned forward to look into the hole. “There ain’t no dark. You’re just silly.”
“I am not! And The Dark is so in that hole.”
“Sure it’s dark in the hole, but that ain’t nothing.
You can’t have a dark, silly.”
“Can too.” Stevie reached in his pocket and took tight hold of his pocket piece. “You better cross your fingers. I’m going to let it out a little ways.”
“Aw!” Arnold didn’t believe him, but he crossed his fingers anyway.
Stevie took two of the magic rocks away from in front of the hole and moved back. The Dark came pouring out like a flood. It poured in a thin stream through the open place in the magic and shot up like a tower of smoke. Arnold was so surprised that he uncrossed his fingers and The Dark wrapped around his head and he began to scream and scream. The Dark sent a long arm out to Stevie, but Stevie pulled out his pocket piece and hit The Dark. Stevie could hear The Dark scream inside his head so he hit it again and The Dark fell all together and got littler so Stevie pushed it back into the hole with his pocket piece. He put the magic rocks back and wrote two big magics in the sand so that The Dark cried again and hid way back in the hole.
Arnold was lying on the sand with his face all white and stiff, so Stevie shook him and called him. Arnold opened his eyes and his face turned red and began to bleed. He started to bawl, “Mama! Mama!” and ran for the house as fast as he could through the soft sand. Stevie followed him, yelling, “You uncrossed your fingers! It’s your fault! You uncrossed your fingers!”
Arnold and his mother went home. Arnold was still bawling and his mother was real red around the nose when she yelled at Mommy. “You’d better learn to control that brat of yours or he’ll grow up a murderer! Look what he did to my poor Arnold!” And she drove away so fast that she hit the chuckhole by the gate and nearly went off the road.
Mommy sat down on the front step and took Stevie between her knees. Stevie looked down and traced a little, soft magic with his finger on Mommy’s slacks.
“What happened, Stevie?”
Stevie squirmed. “Nothing, Mommy. We were just playing in the wash.”
“Why did you hurt Arnold?”
“I didn’t. Honest. I didn’t even touch him.”
“But the whole side of his face was skinned.” Mommy put on her no-fooling-now voice. “Tell me what happened, Stevie.”
Stevie gulped. “Well, Arnold was bragging ’bout his two-wheel bike and—” Stevie got excited and looked up. “And Mommy, he has a cat with three-and-a-half legs!”
“Go on.”
Stevie leaned against her again.
“Well, I’ve got a Dark in a hole in the wash so I—”
“A Dark? What is that?”
“It’s, it’s just a Dark. It isn’t very nice. I keep it in its hole with magic. I let it out a little bit to show Arnold and it hurt him. But it was his fault. He uncrossed his fingers.”
Mommy sighed. “What really happened, Stevie?”
“I told you, Mommy! Honest, that’s what happened.”
“For True, Stevie?” She looked right in his eyes.
Stevie looked right back. “Yes, Mommy, For True.”
She sighed again. “Well, son, I guess this Dark business is the same as your Mr. Bop and Toody Troot.”
“Uh, uh!” Stevie shook his head. “No sir. Mr. Bop and Toody Troot are nice. The Dark is bad.”
“Well, don’t play with it anymore then.”
“I don’t play with it,” protested Stevie. “I just keep it shut up with magic.”
“All right, son.” She stood up and brushed the dust off the back of her slacks. “Only for the love of Toody Troot, don’t let Arnold get hurt again.” She smiled at Stevie.
Stevie smiled back. “Okay, Mommy. But it was his fault. He uncrossed his fingers. He’s a baby.”
The next time Stevie was in the wash playing cowboy on Burro Eddie, he heard The Dark calling him. It called so sweet and soft that anybody would think it was something nice, but Stevie could feel the bad rumble way down under the nice, so he made sure his pocket piece was handy, shooed Eddie away, and went down to the hole and squatted down in front of it.
The Dark stood up behind the magic rocks and it had made itself look like Arnold only its eyes didn’t match and it had forg
otten one ear and it was freckled all over like Arnold’s face.
“Hello,” said The Dark with its Arnold-mouth. “Let’s play.”
“No,” said Stevie. “You can’t fool me. You’re still The Dark.”
“I won’t hurt you.” The Arnold-face stretched out sideways to make a smile, but it wasn’t a very good one. “Let me out and I’ll show you how to have lots of fun.”
“No,” said Stevie. “If you weren’t bad, the magic couldn’t hold you. I don’t want to play with bad things.”
“Why not?” asked The Dark. “Being bad is fun sometimes—lots of fun.”
“I guess it is,” said Stevie, “but only if it’s a little bad. A big bad makes your stomach sick and you have to have a spanking or a sit-in-the-corner and then a big loving from Mommy or Daddy before it gets well again.”
“Aw, come on,” said The Dark. “I’m lonesome. Nobody ever comes to play with me. I like you. Let me out and I’ll give you a two-wheel bike.”
“Really?” Stevie felt all warm inside. “For True?”
“For True. And a cat with three-and-a-half legs.”
“Oh!” Stevie felt like Christmas morning. “Honest?”
“Honest. All you have to do is take away the rocks and break up your pocket piece and I’ll fix everything for you.”
“My pocket piece?” The warmness was going away. “No sir, I won’t either break it up. It’s the magicest thing I’ve got and it was hard to make.”
“But I can give you some better magic.”
“Nothing can be more magic.” Stevie tightened his hand around his pocket piece. “Anyway, Daddy said I might get a two-wheel bike for my birthday. I’ll be six years old. How old are you?”
The Dark moved back and forth. “I’m as old as the world.”
Stevie laughed. “Then you must know Auntie Phronie. Daddy says she’s as old as the hills.”
“The hills are young,” said The Dark. “Come on, Stevie, let me out. Please—pretty please.”
“Well.” Stevie reached for the pretty red rock. “Promise you’ll be good.”
“I promise.”
Stevie hesitated. He could feel a funniness in The Dark’s voice. It sounded like Lilicat when she purred to the mice she caught. It sounded like Pooch-pup when he growled softly to the gophers he ate sometimes. It made Stevie feel funny inside and, as he squatted there wondering what the feeling was, lightning flashed brightly above the treetops and a few big raindrops splashed down with the crash of thunder.
“Well,” said Stevie, standing up, feeling relieved. “It’s going to rain. I can’t play with you now. I have to go. Maybe I can come see you tomorrow.”
“No, now!” said The Dark. “Let me out right now!” and its Arnold-face was all twisted and one eye was slipping down one cheek.
Stevie started to back away, his eyes feeling big and scared. “Another time. I can’t play in the wash when it storms. There might be a flood.”
“Let me out!” The Dark was getting madder. The Arnold-face turned purple and its eyes ran down its face like sick fire and it melted back into blackness again. “Let me out!” The Dark hit the magic so hard that it shook the sand and one of the rocks started to roll. Quick like a rabbit, Stevie pressed the rock down hard and fixed all the others too. Then The Dark twisted itself into a thing so awful-looking that Stevie’s stomach got sick and he wanted to upchuck. He took out his pocket piece and drew three hard magics in the sand and The Dark screamed so hard that Stevie screamed, too, and ran home to Mommy and was very sick.
Mommy put him to bed and gave him some medicine to comfort his stomach and told Daddy he’d better buy Stevie a hat. The sun was too hot for a towheaded, bareheaded boy in the middle of July.
Stevie stayed away from the wash for a while after that, but one day Burro Eddie opened the gate with his teeth again and wandered off down the road, headed for the wash. It had been storming again in the Whetstones. Mommy said, “You’d better go after Eddie. The flood will be coming down the wash this afternoon and if Eddie gets caught, he’ll get washed right down into the river.”
“Aw, Eddie can swim,” said Stevie.
“Sure he can, but not in a flash flood. Remember what happened to Durkin’s horse last year.”
“Yeah,” said Stevie, wide-eyed. “It got drownded.
It even went over the dam. It was dead.”
“Very dead,” laughed Mommy. “So you scoot along and bring Eddie back. But remember, if there’s any water at all in the wash, you stay out of it. And if any water starts down while you’re in it, get out in a hurry.”
“Okay, Mommy.”
So Stevie put on his sandals—there were too many stickers on the road to go barefoot—and went after Eddie. He tracked him carefully like Daddy showed him—all bent over—and only had to look twice to see where he was so he’d be sure to follow the right tracks. He finally tracked him down into the wash.
Burro Eddie was eating mesquite beans off a bush across the wash from The Dark. Stevie held out his hand and waggled his fingers at him.
“Come on, Eddie. Come on, old feller.”
Eddie waggled his ears at Stevie and peeked out of the corner of his eyes, but he went on pulling at the long beans, sticking his teeth way out so the thorns wouldn’t scratch his lips so bad. Stevie walked slow and careful toward Eddie, making soft talk real coaxinglike and was just sliding his hand up Eddie’s shoulder to get hold of the ragged old rope around his neck when Eddie decided to be scared and jumped with all four feet. He skittered across to the other side of the wash, tumbling Stevie down on the rough, gravelly sand.
“Daggone you, Eddie!” he yelled, getting up. “You come on back here. We gotta get out of the wash. Mommy’s gonna be mad at us. Don’t be so mean!”
Stevie started after Eddie and Eddie kept on playing like he was scared. He flapped his stringy tail and tried to climb the almost straight-up-and-down bank of the wash. His front feet scrabbled at the bank and his hind feet kicked up the sand. Then he slid down on all fours and just stood there, his head pushed right up against the bank, not moving at all.
Stevie walked up to him real slow and started to take the old rope. Then he saw where Eddie was standing.
“Aw, Eddie,” he said, squatting down in the sand. Look what you went and did. You kicked all my magic away. You let The Dark get out. Now I haven’t got anything Arnold hasn’t got. Dern you, Eddie!” He stood up and smacked Eddie’s flank with one hand. But Eddie just stood there and his flank felt funny— kinda stiff and cold.
“Eddie!” Stevie dragged on the rope and Eddie’s head turned—jerky—like an old gate. Then Eddie’s feet moved, but slow and funny, until Eddie turned around.
“What’s the matter, Eddie?” Stevie put his hand on Eddie’s nose and looked at him close. Something was wrong with the burro’s eyes. They were still big and dark, but now they didn’t seem to see Stevie or anything—they looked empty. And while Stevie looked into them, there came a curling blackness into them, like smoke coming through a crack and all at once the eyes began to see again. Stevie started to back away, his hands going out in front of him.
“Eddie,” he whispered. “Eddie, what’s the matter?” And Eddie started after him—but not like Eddie— not with fast feet that kicked the sand in little spurts, but slow and awful, the two legs on one side together, then the two legs on the other side—like a sawhorse or something that wasn’t used to four legs. Stevie’s heart began to pound under his T-shirt and he backed away faster. “Eddie, Eddie,” he pleaded. “Don’t, Eddie. Don’t act like that. Be good. We gotta go back to the house.”
But Eddie kept on coming, faster and faster, his legs getting looser so they worked better and his eyes staring at Stevie. Stevie backed away until he ran into a big old cottonwood trunk that high water brought down after the last storm. He ducked around in back of the trunk. Eddie just kept on dragging his feet through the sand until he ran into the trunk too, but his feet kept on moving, even when he couldn
’t go any farther. Stevie put out one shaky hand to pat Eddie’s nose. But he jerked it back and stared and stared across the tree trunk at Eddie. And Eddie stared back with eyes that were wide and shiny like quiet lightning. Stevie swallowed dryness in his throat and then he knew.
“The Dark!” he whispered. “The Dark. It got out. It got in Eddie!”
He turned and started to run kitty-cornered across the wash. There was an awful scream from Eddie. Not a donkey scream at all, and Stevie looked back and saw Eddie—The Dark—coming after him, only his legs were working better now and his big mouth was wide open with the big yellow teeth all wet and shiny. The sand was sucking at Stevie’s feet, making him stumble. He tripped over something and fell. He scrambled up again and his hands splashed as he scrambled. The runoff from the Whetstones was coming and Stevie was in the wash!
He could hear Eddie splashing behind him. Stevie looked back and screamed and ran for the bank. Eddie’s face wasn’t Eddie anymore. Eddie’s mouth looked full of twisting darkness and Eddie’s legs had learned how a donkey runs and Eddie could outrun Stevie any day of the week. The water was coming higher and he could feel it grab his feet and suck sand out from under him every step he took.
Somewhere far away he heard Mommy shrieking at him, “Stevie! Get out of the wash!”
Then Stevie was scrambling up the steep bank, the stickers getting in his hands and the fine silty dirt getting in his eyes. He could hear Eddie coming and he heard Mommy screaming, “Eddie!” and there was Eddie trying to come up the bank after him, his mouth wide and slobbering.
Young Witches & Warlocks Page 11
