by Lois Duncan
She heard Ted’s car driving up, and a little while later, Rosemary’s. The television went on in the living room, and before long the smells of cooking began to permeate the house. She tried to focus her mind on the material in Charlie’s notes, but found that impossible. She felt as if something terrible was looming over her, something that was about to crash down on her, but she had no idea what it was, and was afraid of finding out.
Maybe it was just that she didn’t want to go to the party. She couldn’t imagine why Kyra had invited her, and she knew that there was no way she would have a good time. Kyra was not her friend, and neither was Eric, and neither was anybody else in this town except Charlie. Now, when she was stuck in a situation where she needed to talk to him, she felt she didn’t have the right to phone him.
Rosemary rapped on the door.
“We’re having meat loaf,” she said. “I bought hamburger while I was out. I figured we needed a break from light meat and dark meat.”
To Sarah’s relief, she did not have to make conversation at dinner, as Brian never stopped babbling about all the electronic wonders he now expected for Christmas. As soon as the meal was over, she excused herself and turned to head back to her bedroom.
“Aren’t you going to help with the dishes?” Ted asked her.
“Not tonight,” Rosemary said. “Remember, she has a party to get ready for. What are you going to wear, honey?”
“I’ve decided not to go,” Sarah said. “Kyra only asked me because Ted made her. She doesn’t really want me.”
“That’s not true,” Ted said. “I didn’t even know about the party. Kyra came up with that invitation on her own. She’s extending an olive branch, Sarah, and I insist that you take it. Kyra can’t make this work by herself. You have to meet her halfway.”
The doorbell chimed.
“I’ll get it!” Brian shouted, leaping up and racing to the door as if he were expecting Santa Claus.
He returned to the kitchen accompanied by Eric, who seemed to be sparkling with some sort of inner fire. Eric’s face was flushed, and his amber eyes held the same glitter of excited anticipation that Sarah had seen in them the first night the two of them had gone into Ted’s apartment. There was something unnatural about him—something—
“I know I’m a little early,” Eric said with a smile. “I hope that’s okay. I need to get back to the house before my other guests start arriving.”
“I’m not ready,” Sarah said.
“You look great!” His grin broadened, except that tonight Sarah didn’t find it charming. His teeth were as dazzling as scalpels, and the golden glow that had seemed to encase his whole being now had a murkiness to it, as if polluted with unsavory elements. She wondered how she could ever have thought he was handsome. Now she didn’t even like the idea of being near him, and the thought that she’d allowed him to kiss her was unbearable.
“All our parties here are casual,” Eric explained. “Except of course for the prom. Everybody will be wearing jeans. Kyra’s out in the car waiting. She’s dressed just like you are.”
“I’m not ready,” Sarah repeated. “I’ll never be ready because I don’t want to go.”
“Now, Sarah, I thought we’d been through all this,” Ted said. He addressed himself to Eric. “Sarah thinks Kyra doesn’t really want her.”
“Of course she wants you!” Eric said.
“I’m not going,” Sarah told him, dredging up her old stubbornness and gathering it to her like a favorite garment that had been lost in the back of a wardrobe. “Tell Kyra thanks, but I have a paper to write tonight.”
“Sarah … ,” Rosemary began in a pleading voice.
“That’s okay, Mrs. Zoltanne,” Eric said. “I’ve been faced with that problem myself. I know what it’s like. We’ll miss you, Sarah, but if you have a paper to write, of course that has to come first. But, please, come explain that to Kyra. I’m afraid her feelings will be hurt, and I don’t want to be the middleman who brings her the message. Maybe she’ll even be able to convince you to change your mind.”
The next thing Sarah knew, he had hold of her arm and was steering her to the door and then out into the darkness of a night too cloudy for stars. Without a word he guided her across the yard to his car, which was parked at the curb.
To her surprise, Kyra was in the driver’s seat.
“Get in back,” she called across to Sarah.
“I came out to tell you that I’m not going,” Sarah said, making a futile attempt to extract her arm from Eric’s grasp.
“You’ve changed your mind again,” Eric said. His voice was low and as soft as a rattler’s first warning.
Before she could respond, he had the door open and was shoving her into the backseat.
“I have not changed my mind!” Sarah insisted loudly as Eric climbed in next to her and pulled the door closed. She started to slide across to get out on the other side and then realized that somebody else was in the backseat with them. Leanne Bush’s boyfriend was blocking the far door.
“Your witchcraft days are over, Madam Zoltanne,” Bucky Greeves said with a chuckle as Kyra started the engine and threw the car into gear.
Chapter
NINETEEN
“WHERE ARE WE GOING?” Sarah demanded as the car took a left turn at the end of the street and headed into the darkness of the surrounding hills.
“To a party,” Eric said. “You know what a party is, don’t you? It’s a jolly social event where you play games and have refreshments. All work and no play might make Sarah a dull girl.”
“Kyra said the party was at your house!” Sarah said, sliding forward on the seat so that she could see out the side window. “This isn’t the way to anywhere! We’re headed out of town!”
“Every road is the way to somewhere,” Bucky said reasonably, shifting his huge body so that his knee dug painfully into her left hip. “We changed the location of the party. It’s going to be somewhere else. Just sit back and enjoy the ride, because it’s not going to take very long.”
“Kyra,” Sarah said frantically, “where are you taking me?”
“Where do you think?” Kyra asked, and then giggled. “What’s the appropriate place for people to hold parties for witches? We’re going up to Garrote Hill!”
“Garrett Hill?” Sarah repeated in bewilderment. “What’s up there?” Then it struck her. “That’s where the football team holds their beer busts.”
“Among other things,” Kyra said. “You know what garrote means, don’t you?”
“Eric’s great-grandfather, Samuel Garrett, was the founder of Pine Crest.”
“The hill’s not called ‘Garrett,’ you idiot, it’s called ‘Garrote,’ ” Kyra said. “Garrote, like when you hang people. Garrote Hill is where they used to string up runaway slaves during Civil War days. That’s what they used to do to witches too, isn’t it, Eric?”
“Right you are, Carrot Top,” Eric said. It was too dark for Sarah to see his face, but she knew that he was grinning.
Whatever this is, it can’t be much worse than the dead crow, she tried to convince herself. Maybe it would be the best thing that this outlandish kidnapping was happening. Kyra and her friends had finally gone too far. Abducting Sarah was a criminal action that Kyra would not be able either to deny or to explain away. Sarah had made it clear that she was not going to Eric’s party. When she’d left the house with Eric and hadn’t come back, her mother must have been concerned. When Rosemary checked the coat tree in the hall and discovered that Sarah’s jacket was still hanging there, she would really be worried. The next thing she would do would be to phone Eric’s house, and when she was told that not only was Sarah not there but also there wasn’t any party, she would finally be forced to accept the validity of Sarah’s accusations. If Rosemary was still so enamored with Ted that she wouldn’t consider leaving him and Pine Crest, at least she would have to agree to let Sarah return to Ventura. Sarah could live with Gillian’s family until she finished high school.
>
Bucky had been right when he’d said that it wouldn’t take long to reach their destination. The dirt road that led to the top of Garrett Hill (or “Garrote Hill,” if that truly was what it was called) was shorter than Sarah had imagined, making several S-curves through a density of pine trees and emerging at a clearing where a dozen or so cars were already parked.
The party—for there did actually seem to be a party—appeared to have been in progress for some time. A bonfire was burning brightly and a keg was prominently displayed at the edge of the circle of light. Foot-stomping country music blared from a battery-operated boom box, and several couples were dancing on the hard-packed earth.
“She’s here!” Kyra called as she brought the car to a stop. She opened the door on the driver’s side, and the dome light went on, illuminating the car’s interior.
A figure approached and bent to peer through one of the rear windows.
“The guest of honor has arrived!” Cindy Morris announced in a slightly slurred voice. “Welcome to the festivities, Madam Witch Lady!”
Eric opened the rear door on his side and got out, reaching in for Sarah’s hand, and, when she wouldn’t offer it, closed his own hand around her wrist. Bucky slid toward her, shoving her easily out the door, and as the group collected around her, Sarah realized it consisted almost entirely of cheerleaders and members of the football team.
Despite her resolution to remain stoic in the face of anything they put her through, she found herself trembling as Eric pulled her forward into the firelight. Could this be the honor student, the president of the class, the brilliant, charismatic son of a respected lawyer? She remembered Kyra’s statement that Eric had a dual personality, the result of his resentment of his domineering father. This was just another example of that childish behavior, Sarah tried to reassure herself. Eric enjoyed the challenge of secretly defying the man who was running his life, but he set boundaries for his rebellious behavior. He might be a crazy-making game player, but she had never seen any indication that he was violent.
Holding Sarah by her wrists, Eric and Bucky pulled her across the frozen ground to the fire. The chill of the night sliced through her thin sweater as if it were made of gauze, and she welcomed the heat that was generated by the flames.
Debbie Rice threw her arms around Danny Adams and began to sway to the music.
“Dance with me, baby!” she crooned.
“Hey!” Jennifer shouted. “Hands off! Just because your sister snagged your boyfriend doesn’t give you the right to start hitting on my guy!”
Bucky jerked Sarah abruptly out of Eric’s grip and crushed her against his chest, stomping his mammoth feet in time to the beat. His breath on her face was rancid with the stench of beer. Sarah suddenly realized that all of them, with the possible exception of Kyra and Eric, had been drinking heavily. She attempted to twist away from Bucky, but it was like trying to free herself from the grip of Gargantua.
“That’s real music!” Kyra shouted at her over the din. “Not that creepy stuff you listen to!”
“What does she listen to?” Leanne asked. “I’d like to hear some witch music!”
“It just so happens that I brought some CDs with me,” Kyra told her. She knelt by the CD player, and a moment later the nasal vocals of the country-western group had been replaced by the rhythmic crash of ocean waves breaking on the beach at Big Sur, accompanied by the lilt of bird calls and woodwinds.
“So that’s where my CDs went!” Sarah cried accusingly. “You stole them from my room!”
“Our room!” Kyra reminded her. “It’s my room, too, remember?” She adjusted the volume to its highest level, and Debbie began to sway back and forth in a dance of her own.
“Let’s get going with the trial!” Debbie cried as she undulated to the hypnotic beat of the music. “I proclaim Sarah Zoltanne guilty of witchcraft! What say the jury?”
As Debbie spoke, Sarah felt her arms jerked behind her back and quickly secured there with something thin and strong that cut harshly into her skin.
“You can’t do that!” Kyra objected. “It’s going to leave marks! I can’t tell my dad this didn’t happen if she goes home with marks on her!”
Bucky laughed. “What makes you think she’s going to go home?” His muscular arms tightened around Sarah as he effortlessly lifted her off her feet and carried her around to the far side of the fire. And that was when she saw it, stark in the flickering firelight, the same dreadful structure as the one in the sketch that had been left in her locker.
It’s the gallows from the Halloween Carnival, she thought incredulously. Somebody from the Drama Club must have stolen it from the prop room!
“Let me go!” she pleaded frantically. “I’ve never done anything to you! I’m not a witch, I’m just a normal person like the rest of you!”
“That’s what witches always try to tell people,” Bucky said.
“Now, wait a minute,” Eric protested. “This is going too far. Kyra’s right, this will get us into real trouble. It’s one thing to give her a scare, but this could be dangerous.”
Ignoring Eric as if he didn’t hear him, Danny pulled free of Debbie and came over to give Bucky assistance.
“Don’t try any witchcraft on us!” Cindy shrieked. “We’ve taken your familiar hostage!”
She lifted her hands above her head, and, to Sarah’s horror, she saw that the girl was holding Yowler.
“He’s not a familiar!” Sarah cried. “He’s just an ordinary cat! Kyra, tell them! There’s nothing magic about Yowler!”
“He talks to you!” Danny shouted. “Bucky and I saw it! We saw you whispering together! If you give us one bit of trouble, he goes in the fire!”
Sarah felt something hard being shoved beneath her feet, and when she glanced down, she saw that it was a footstool. She felt the scratch of fiber against her throat and started to struggle, then looked across at Cindy holding Yowler high above the flames, and gave in to the hands that were looping the noose around her neck
“Confess, witch!” Cindy screamed at her.
“I’m no more a witch than you are!” Sarah sobbed. “Let me go!”
Unexpectedly she heard those words echoed by another voice—a voice that had no business being in those surroundings.
“Let her go!” Charlie shouted. “If she slips off the stool, she’ll hang herself!”
“It’s Lard Ass!” somebody yelled. “What’s the blubber boy doing here? Did somebody send him an invitation?”
“He goes wherever the Witch Lady goes,” Debbie said. “He’s one of her familiars, like the cat!”
“Or the crow!”
“Lard Ass has his own familiar!” a male voice brayed. “His familiar’s a fish!”
The roar of laughter that followed reverberated through the clearing.
“Are you out of your minds?” Charlie cried. “This looks like a lynching!”
“Isn’t that what they do to witches?” someone yelled.
“Charlie!” Sarah screamed in terror. “They’re going to kill me!”
“Stop this!” It was Kyra again, struggling to be heard. From where Sarah stood, teetering on the footstool, she could see Kyra with Eric beside her, frantically attempting to shove their way forward through the crowd, but the group that had gathered around the gallows was packed tight.
“You’ve got to let her go!” Kyra shrieked. “This isn’t what we planned! You promised she wouldn’t be hurt! We were just going to bring her here and scare her!”
“Shut up, you wimp!” Leanne screamed back at her. “We’re doing this for you!”
“No, you’re not!” Kyra wailed. “I don’t know why you’re doing it, but it isn’t for me!” Her voice was lost in the din, and a moment later she and Eric both seemed to vanish as if sucked beneath the sea of bodies by an undertow.
Charlie was still there, however, looking wide-eyed and desperate, anchored in place at the edge of the crowd by two members of the football team, each of whom had a shoulder w
edged in front of him. The crowd was now writhing like the wisps of smoke that appeared in the depths of the crystal ball. Sarah realized to her amazement that they were dancing, dancing to meditation music that wasn’t meant to be danced to, music that wasn’t meant to be played at top volume. The ocean waves actually seemed to be crashing around them, and the sound of the oboes shrieked through the trees like wounded birds.
Sarah watched the performance with increasing horror, conscious of her precarious balance on the stool as the rope chafed the tender skin of her throat. All it would take would be for one flying foot to knock the stool out from under her, and she would be left dangling from the noose.
I’ve lived this before, she realized, gazing down upon the crowd and feeling the formidable energy of their excitement as it mounted in feverish anticipation of the violence to come. I’ve lived this experience before, but not from the gallows. In that other time I was perched upon a pair of broad shoulders, safe from any sort of harm.
“Push her!” Debbie screamed hysterically. “Push the witch off the platform! Somebody push her! That’s what you do on Gallows Hill!”
“Stop!” Charlie shouted. “Can’t you see what’s happening? This isn’t about Sarah Zoltanne, it’s about you! Debbie, didn’t you hear what you just called this place? You called it Gallows Hill! It’s not Gallows Hill, it’s Garrote Hill! Gallows Hill was in Salem!”
“Keep your mouth shut, Lard Ass, and you’ll be okay,” somebody told him. “You’re not a witch, you’re just a familiar. You’re not the one we’ve come to the hill to punish.”
Charlie managed to move back from the crowd and snatch up the player, adjusting the volume to a background level.
“Listen,” he said, and this time his voice suddenly had a new sound to it, a deeper, more resonant quality, as if it were the voice of a man, not a boy. “All of you listen—did you hear what I just told Debbie? Gallows Hill was in Salem. It’s where innocent people were hanged over three hundred years ago! Remember what it was like, Leanne? Reach back and remember the gallows. Remember the people around you, the people who were cheering—”
