“Grannie Smith will feed me enough candy.” Stephen had a difficult time eating since he had to use his left hand to spoon the cereal into his mouth. He hoped Dad wouldn’t notice. But Dad hardly looked at him.
The doorbell rang, and Jacob rushed out of the kitchen to answer it.
Stephen slid his hand out of his pocket to check his right hand. Only a few bruises and scratches were left; the open wounds had all disappeared. Momma must have been right. The uglies must have some magic healing power in their saliva. Stephen quickly sat on his hand when he heard his father’s footsteps returning to the kitchen.
“That was Mrs. Rosen. Grannie Smith to you. She noticed my car and worried that something may have been wrong over here. I told her not to worry because her assistant chef would still be keeping her company today.”
Stephen watched his father walk out of the kitchen in search of his briefcase. Stephen slid off the chair and followed, remembering to slide his hand back into his pant pocket. His father stopped at the basement door, put his hand on the doorknob, shook his head, and released the knob before going on to the living room.
Stephen knew the uglies would again be glued onto the wood box unable to cause any problem. The uglies could use their magic only at night. Wherever they were, at dawn the uglies would be swept up in a chill breeze and returned to the box. During the day they would also be unable to defend themselves.
The boy wondered whether his allegiance to his mother or to his father should take priority. Momma couldn’t touch things in her son’s world. She needed Stephen’s help. Dad was fine but seemed at times to be working at odds with his mother’s wishes. And why was Momma so angry? She’d never talk about it. But she didn’t like his dad anymore, and that made Stephen sad.
“Let’s go,” shouted Jacob, halting at the door to see his son standing in the hall without shoes or socks. “Didn’t you bring all yours clothes down into the kitchen like I asked?”
Stephen nodded.
“Then where are your shoes and socks?”
“In the kitchen with my jacket.”
Jacob swept the boy off his feet and into the kitchen.
“I can’t let you go to school half naked.”
“Dad, I’m only missing my shoes and socks. During the summer you always let me walk around barefoot.”
“The teachers wouldn’t approve. Think about what your grandmother says when you’re barefoot.”
Stephen giggled.
“She calls me Lil’ Abner. You still haven’t found that cartoon strip so’s I can know what I look like.”
“Look in the mirror and you’ll know what you look like.”
“Nah, I want to see the way Grandma sees me.”
Jacob finished tying the laces of Stephen’s shoes and lifted the boy off the kitchen chair.
“Do I really look like a cartoon, Dad?”
“You look like your mom. And that’s good. That makes you …”
“Pretty?” Stephen made a face.
“Handsome.” Jacob stood back to view Stephen and lifted a brow. “Very handsome. All the hearts you’ll break.”
“I don’t want to break anyone’s heart, honest.”
“Then you won’t. Let’s go.”
Chapter
37
“The boy is very stupid,” said the giant bird.
“Innocent, not stupid,” corrected the gargoyle.
“Stupid. Innocent. They are both the same,” said the bird.
“He’s but a child,” hissed the snake, wishing he were still inside the wooden box instead of stuck to the outside of the box. He could move even during the day when he lived inside the box.
“A stupid, innocent child,” murmured the dwarf. “And all of you have been quite cruel to him.”
“What? You were the first to break his flesh.” The gargoyle hated hypocrisy.
“I only helped. Someone had to do something. We couldn’t all stare at him and wait ‘til he stabbed his own hand. He wasn’t about to do that. Oh, no, not he. Momma’s boy he is.”
The uglies facing the window were uncomfortable. The sun rose strong that morning and would grow warmer and brighter as the day wore on. Already several uglies squinted. A quiet bird with two heads had tucked each head under a wing. The uglies away from the window remained bored.
“I scented the father this morning at the door of the basement.” The dog with the head of a man sniffed the air again. “But he’s gone now. The little one must have stopped Father from coming down to destroy us. I worried just before the sun came up as I was drawn back to the box that we might be destroyed before we did our mistress’ bidding. We are here for her.”
“Who is she?” said the dwarf. “A third rate witch. I’ve worked for better. I worked with witches who had a true passion for blood and killed or maimed entire families. Entire countries even.”
“Don’t lie,” hissed the black snake. Indignantly the dwarf tried to raise his ax, but it was firmly glued to the box. The black snake managed to stretch up to the dwarf’s ear.
“Entire countries, comrade? Your ax can barely bloody a little boy.”
“If I were free you’d be in tiny bits.” The dwarf snarled.
“The fire. We must stoke the fire tonight before Father comes home.” The gargoyle had been sitting, planning the task that would be theirs tonight.
“Better than this idiot’s ax.” The snake flicked out its tongue to tease the ear of the dwarf.
“We are one tonight,” the gargoyle reminded the other uglies. “We work together. No one can say he did more or less. The work is divided equally.”
“And who will keep the boy out of trouble?” asked the bird with the large beak.
“His mother will care for her progeny. We need not ask her to. She’ll keep the boy close to her so he doesn’t hear the screams. She will pull him into her own world.”
“She will take her son to the world of the dead?”
“Only briefly.”
“Death is not brief,” the bird with the large beak said. “Death is forever.”
“Do you care whether he comes back?” asked the gargoyle.
The uglies chuckled with delight except for the dwarf.
“We need the boy more than the witch now. I care where the boy is and will protect him for my own sake.”
“Even against his mother?”
“Especially against the woman who rules us.”
“How? We owe our existence in this world to her.”
“I owe her only revenge. Then I am free to rule my own conjuror.”
“The boy’s soul is not black enough to listen to you,” said the gargoyle.
“We’ll see. Yes, when the night comes the boy’s soul is frail. Already the mother has confused his world with her petty pleas. Her revenge is but a token. We are capable of much more.” The dwarf’s eyes flashed briefly.
“We’ll not follow you,” the snake said, and hissed softly in the quiet of the basement.
“Who would you follow?” The dwarf’s head dipped slightly toward the black snake.
“The gargoyle leads us this night,” said the dog with the head of a man. “There’ll be no arguing. You two should work out what problems you have separate from us. You both drain our energy, leaving us frailer than we should be.”
“You’re a mystery to me,” the dwarf said to the dog with the man’s head. “What were you before coming here?”
“A god,” answered the dog.
Gasps flooded from the mouths of the demons.
“I’ve heard of the Anubis having the body of a man and the head of a jackal, but never have heard of a god looking like you.” The dwarf used his ax to gently scratch his head.
“I didn’t look like this, fool.”
The dwarf puffed up and blustered out several curses. If a snake could shake with laughter, then the black snake quivered his skin in that same manner.
The gargoyle dragged its body over to the fracas.
“Be still. I
t doesn’t matter what any of us were in a former life. Now we are spirits residing in the shape our mistress chose for us.”
“Do you think she gave much thought to what she was doing?” asked the snake.
“She gave us a way to exist. I’m sure none of us want to return to nothingness.”
“Not me,” said the dog.
“Certainly not you,” said the dwarf. “A god turned into nothingness. Whoever heard of that? After all the sacrifices and gifts which were laid at your feet, you had to be very lonely in the limbo from which we came. Were the virgins truly virgin? Did the hearts taste as sweet as they’re supposed to? Or were you a minor god satisfied with chickens and sheep?”
“Quiet!” The gargoyle’s voice stayed low but hard-edged.
The demons settled back into their own private thoughts and slept the day away.
Chapter
38
“Don’t worry; the boy can sleep over if you’re going to be really late,” said Grannie Smith over the telephone.
Stephen rushed over to the woman and begged to speak to his father. She handed him the receiver immediately.
“I can’t stay over. I gotta be back with you tonight.”
“Wow! You must have been standing right next to Mrs. Rosen. You eavesdropping on our telephone calls?” Jacob asked.
“No, Dad. Grannie Smith doesn’t mind my listening to her calls. At least she never said she did.”
Mrs. Rosen chucked the boy under the chin.
“Yeah, well, some things you don’t have to be told. It’s just polite to give people some privacy.”
Stephen hunkered close to the phone to whisper.
“Do I have to apologize?”
“I’m sure Grannie Smith knows you didn’t mean any harm. I should be able to pick you up just about at bedtime. That okay with you?”
“Sure. I can’t stay over here. I want to be with you.”
“Don’t worry, son, I’m not going to leave you.”
Stephen spent the rest of the afternoon worrying. The uglies could now peel themselves off the box when the sun went down. The wax from his candle had melted their bond to the box, and his blood and flesh had given them the incentive to seek out more nourishment. He didn’t trust his dad not to go into the cellar to remove the box from the table. What if the box were thrown into the garbage can at the curb? The uglies would be able to rampage the neighborhood. Pets and small children would be their favorite victims.
That evening Grannie Smith and Stephen were the only two at the dinner table, although the amount of food didn’t seem decreased. She tried to coax the boy into eating, but he noticed nothing but the clock. Each minute brought them closer to the night.
While Stephen pushed his food around on his plate the sun went down. He dropped the fork into the plate and ran to look out the study window which faced his own house. He wondered what the uglies would be doing. Would they be hungry again? Would Momma make him feed them with his own flesh? He looked down at his small hand and saw that even the bruising had almost disappeared. There were a couple of areas on his palm that still had a yellowish tinge, but other than that his right hand looked unmarred.
“Momma?”
He heard a noise behind him and caught himself before he could say anything else.
Grannie Smith knelt down next to him to give him a gentle hug.
“I could use help with the dishes,” she said. “Want to give me a hand?”
Stephen nodded and followed her into the kitchen, but through all Grannie Smith’s jokes Stephen remained somber, his mind on the uglies the entire time.
Later, Grannie Smith attempted to get the boy interested in television shows, but when a car passed Stephen jumped up from the couch to see if his father had come home.
Finally, he saw his father’s car pull into the driveway. Stephen excitedly ran to the front door and waited. He could hardly breathe, and he danced about so much Grannie Smith suggested he might need to use the bathroom. The idea inspired his little bladder, and he ran off to the powder room.
He expected to find his father waiting for him when he returned, but Grannie Smith sat alone on the couch watching the news on television.
“Where’s Dad?” he asked.
“Hasn’t come for you yet. I suppose he may have a few things to take care of before picking you up.”
“No, he can’t. I have to be there.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He wants to throw out Momma’s box. He said he wouldn’t, but what if he does? The uglies need to be able to go back on the box.”
Grannie Smith stood.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I’ll take you back home so you can settle down. Okay?”
Stephen nodded but was disappointed that Grannie Smith had to put on her shoes and sweater before leaving the house. He scrambled about the living room, helping her to find the shoes. The sweater at least hung from a hook by the front door.
Chapter
39
After pulling into the driveway, Jacob got out of the car and walked to the trunk where he had put Stephen’s gift. He slipped the box under his arm and searched his pocket for the house key.
As soon as he opened the door a wave of heat struck him.
“What the hell?”
The house felt like a pizza oven. Perspiration broke out on his body before he reached Stephen’s room.
He placed the box on the bed, thinking his son might enjoy playing a pirate on Halloween. He certainly had enjoyed the ride Pirates of the Carribean at Disneyland, forcing his parents to take the ride five times in a row. Not that Jacob didn’t secretly enjoy it. Cathy became a bit bored though. Must be a guy thing, Jacob said to himself. He remembered he had an old bottle of rum in his den. He’d empty the bottle and fill it with Coke for Stephen to imbibe while trick or treating. He couldn’t wait to see a smile on his son’s face, but before picking up Stephen he’d best go down into the basement and turn off the furnace. The house had enough heat to last them the rest of the fall.
He quickly ran down the stairs and checked the hall thermostat. Ninety-five degrees! The damn thing must be broken. He couldn’t complain, though; for five years the furnace had worked without any repair.
Jacob opened the basement door and flicked on the light. The bulb stuttered but finally came on full force.
“Guess this basement needs a good fixing up,” Jacob mumbled out loud.
The banister gave a bit when he touched it. The steps seemed to creak more than he remembered. Could be the heat causing the problems. The temperature in the basement made him think of all the forest fires he had heard of in the area.
Jacob did a double-take when the furnace came into view. He thought the damn thing had actually turned a bright red. Funny what an imagination can do.
The switch was too hot to touch with his bare hand, so he searched for some old rags. Conveniently a stack of old clothes had been piled under the staircase. He grabbed an old ripped pair of jeans, and while folding them over he walked back to the furnace. He stopped in his tracks when he noticed the box on the table. The demons had disappeared. He walked over and picked up the plain wooden box that no longer burned the tips of his fingers. Could Stephen have managed to pry the figures off during the night while Jacob was asleep? But there were no marks on the box to indicate anything had once been attached to it. He flipped the lid open. Empty. He’d ask Stephen about the box later. Now he had to take care of the furnace. He put the box on the table and turned to take a step when he tripped over something. The furnace door flew open, and riding it were the figures that had been on the box.
Something liquid was splashed on him. He shut his eyes, smelling the strong odor of rum. The rum he had kept in the den. He opened his eyes to the sight of a ball of flame reaching out to embrace him. His clothes instantly caught fire.
His hands tried to smother the flames that ignited his hair. He tried to rip the cloth from his flesh but felt the melted
material tear at his skin. Someone wetted down his trouser with rum and the fire spread.
He tried to roll against the cement floor, but every time he turned he felt a new splash of rum hit his body.
“My handsome Jacob with those classic features and tight muscles. I lusted for you. And so did so many other women.”
In the midst of the chaos Jacob heard Cathy’s voice.
His screams filled the cellar but Cathy’s voice rang in his ears.
“No one will want you now. The classic features are melting off your face. The long lashes have disappeared into ash. The blond locks that Molly fondled will grow no more. Your athletic body will be shrink, wrapped inside your flesh. You will know why I sought death.”
Chapter
40
Stephen hurried Grannie Smith out the door. She had the key to the front door of his house and he wanted her to use it.
“Now, Stephen, we can take a minute or two to be polite and knock.” She rapped lightly on the door, but Stephen pounded with his small fists.
“He’ll answer. He’ll answer. Give him a minute,” she said.
When Jacob didn’t answer Stephen ran around to the side of the house to peek in the basement window. Immediately he saw the bulb had been lit. He also caught the flash of something on the floor.
Screaming, Stephen ran back to Grannie Smith and begged her to open the door. When she did, Stephen ran to the basement, not noticing the heat or the smell of cooked flesh. He found his father shivering on the floor with most of his clothes burnt off. The flesh sizzled as small plumes of smoke rose from his body. He touched his father’s face in an attempt to put the skin back together but had to raise his hands when his father groaned in pain.
“Stephen,” Grannie Smith called. She stood at the top of the staircase. “Is your father down here? It stinks. What’s been going on?”
Stephen’s whimpers turned into genuine tears, bringing his babysitter down the stairs. Her scream pierced his small ears. A splash of vomit hit his right hand as she tried to turn away in disgust. He listened to her heaves until he began feeling ill himself.
The Witch Page 12
