Covenkeepers

by Denise Gwen

  Bettina and Claudia exchanged glances and nodded. Well, that settled it, then. They were staying here, at least for the night, perhaps longer. Maddie blew an errant strand of red hair from her eyes and sighed. Nobody bothered consulting with her; no, of course not. But then again, she wasn’t of age yet, and her opinion clearly did not matter. She looked at Malamar, hoping for some morsel, a crumb, of emotional support.

  The ginger cat blinked up at her, his sea-foam green eyes shining. He shrugged. “Coulda told ya.”

  “You’re not a lot of help.”

  “I beg your pardon. What part of the manual says I’m supposed to be of help?”

  Agatha stepped off her broom and smoothed down her skirts. “Come along, all of you. Let’s see what we’ve got to work with, hm?”

  ****

  “Well,” Maddie said, as she stepped inside the ancient house and stood in the front foyer. She gazed around her with interest. “It doesn’t look too bad, once you get inside.”

  “Of course not,” Nana said. “Nothing’s ever as bad as you first think it is.” Nana smiled down at her. “Now, let’s review your tactical training.”

  “Okay.”

  “Ezekiel’s School for Witches and Warlocks,” Nana muttered in disgust. “For sure, you didn’t learn everything you need to know from him.”

  Maddie concealed a smile. She knew only too well Nana’s opinion of Witches’ School. According to Nana, the school didn’t teach a young witch everything she needed to know, especially when it came to common-sense life matters such as this one, how to regroup following the breakdown of a coven.

  But even Maddie knew enough to realize they’d managed to situate themselves rather nicely. The house stood high on the hillock, literally looming above the village below; this gave the witches an unprecedented advantage, as they’d see anybody approaching. And with all the windows overlooking the driveway and the street below, Maddie knew this would ease any concerns Nana might entertain over security.

  All the same, Maddie noted with a flare of apprehension, Nana did not feel entirely safe, for she immediately marched off down the driveway to set the warding curse at the entranceway sign. Danube the cougar, Nana’s familiar, trotted off to scout the backwoods environs. And that was the funny thing about Nana, Maddie thought; old and arthritic, Nana could just as easily have sent Bettina or Mama out to set the warding curse—as the senior witch, it was her prerogative as to whom she sent—but Nana always liked to set the warding curse herself.

  Something of a control freak, her Nana.

  As Nana occupied herself at the front entrance, Bettina and her barn owl, Robespierre—Roby, for short—began the dinner preparations. Maddie wandered into what appeared to have been a parlor and listened to her sister fretting over the details.

  “We fled the castle in an awful hurry and didn’t get a chance to pack much in the way of provisions,” Bettina said.

  “No, Bettina, that’s true,” Maddie said.

  But she also knew of her sister’s limitless reserve of resources. Just as Mama’s black bag possessed an endless stream of materials, Bettina could always be counted on to find a handful of beans and seasonings in one of her many pockets. She puttered around the kitchen, complaining softly. She located a pot from under the sink, uttered a quick incantation, and within a matter of moments was presiding over a merrily bubbling pot of stew. Roby did his very owl-best to set the table, but he could never remember to set the fork on the left side of the plate and the knife on the right. Apart from that, though, his manners were impeccable.

  A sudden creaking sound from above her head made Maddie start, but then she heard her mother’s familiar cough as she cleared her throat from the dust and spoke to Zippy, her ferret. “I need you to nose around and find us some blankets, bedding, ticking, that kind of thing, all right, Zip?”

  Maddie sighed with relief. She’d get to lay her head down upon a pillow tonight, and not on the hard ground.

  Mama was making progress with the sleeping arrangements. As Maddie listened to her mother’s nimble-footed steps above her head, she could almost see her mother in the room upstairs, airing out mattresses and producing fresh sheets from long-ago closed cupboards.

  With everyone otherwise occupied, and with no other tasks before her, Maddie decided to explore the house.

  It’d keep her mind occupied and it might even prevent her from worrying.

  Out of all her talents, worrying was Maddie’s greatest talent.

  She left the parlor, walked through the foyer, and eased through the kitchen, side-stepping Bettina as she bustled around.

  As Maddie sidled past, Bettina said, “Don’t get lost now.”

  “I won’t,” Maddie promised.

  Bettina frowned down into her pot of stew. “We don’t know how safe this place is. Garlic. It needs garlic.”

  “I just want to take a look around.”

  “Hmmm. Keep a close eye on her, Malamar.”

  “Hah,” Malamar retorted with a haughty ardor, “as if I needed to be told.”

  “And some cloves,” Bettina muttered under her breath. “Where can I get my hands on some cloves?”

  With Malamar trotting along beside her, Maddie slipped out of the kitchen and walked down the long corridor toward the back of the house. She stopped when she reached a staircase at the end of a hallway. She looked to the right of the staircase and saw a closed door.

  She hesitated a moment, unsure of which way she wanted to go; upstairs, or the door beckoning to her?

  I’ll try the door first.

  At the moment this thought bubbled up into her mind, a sudden wave of sadness washed over her.

  Oh, Papa.

  She didn’t know how her mother, Nana, and Bettina managed it; she still felt all jittery and frightened from what’d happened back at the castle last night. How did they manage to make it look so easy—escaping a near-death experience, traveling thousands of miles, arriving at some abandoned house—and then proceeding to install themselves into the house as comfortably as if they’d lived in this sleepy burg, this funny old house, all their natural lives? Well, Maddie wanted to know their secret, because she felt anything but easy. She felt out of sorts. And every time she thought of Papa—

  She stopped short, fighting back the sudden tears. No, it did no good to think of Papa, poor, dear Papa, stuck in that awful thing—

  Stop it. Stop it now. You’ll make yourself sick. You’ll make yourself cry.

  Maddie walked up to the closed door and leaned her head up against the wall and closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. It took twelve full breaths, and Malamar winding his furry body between her legs and purring loudly, before she managed to breathe again without hiccupping up tears. Tears served no purpose. Tears would only distract her from the work ahead. And right now, she needed to focus.

  There. That’s better.

  And she did feel a tiny bit better. She pushed her head off the dusty wallpaper, took a step back, and gazed around the gloomy hallway with interest.

  “Overall,” Malamar noted dryly, “I must admit to being surprised.”

  “Surprised about what, Malamar?”

  “This place isn’t nearly as revolting as I thought it’d be, upon first inspection.”

  “It really does seem okay, doesn’t it?” Maddie asked in wonder, looking around. “A bit drafty here and there, but otherwise . . .”

  “It doesn’t smell too horribly of that overly antiseptic smell so familiar to nursing homes,” Malamar said, and then he sniffed.

  “And I really can’t detect the scent of death,” Maddie added.

  “If one doesn’t sniff too deeply, that is.”

  “Mostly, I think the place just smells of must and years of built-up dust.”

  “We can hide here very nicely,” Malamar noted. “Until the catastrophe back home settles down.”

  “Yes.” Maddie fought back a fresh wave of tears. “And then, perhaps, we’ll go back for Papa? Surely, surely, we’ll return
and rescue him?”

  “Of course we will,” Malamar assured her, but some quality in his voice lacked sincerity.

  They jumped at a creak in the ceiling directly above her head. She and Malamar craned their necks, listening, but they heard no repetition of the sound.

  “Mama?” Maddie called up the stairs in a quavering voice. “Is that you?”

  Nothing.

  She and Malamar exchanged glances. He nodded to the stairs. “Claudia, no doubt, is still making up the beds. Why don’t we go up and check on her?”

  “Do you really think we ought to?”

  He looked doubtful. “Sure. Why not?”

  “Yes,” she said, uncertain. “Mama’s up there.”

  She gazed up the staircase. Did her eyes play tricks on her, or did the staircase appear even darker than it did just a moment before? She looked down at Malamar, but he betrayed no apparent concern. He sniffed the air with a judicious frown and looked at her again. “Shall we?”

  “Yes,” she said, affecting a bravery in her voice she did not feel. “Let’s.”

  2

  “Okay,” Maddie said. “Let’s do this.”

  “I’m right behind you,” Malamar said.

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  She took first one faltering step, then another, as she crept up the stairs as silently as if she too were a cat. When she reached the top of the dark staircase, she looked downstairs to the landing and started in surprise when she saw Malamar had remained; his sea-foam eyes gleamed golden in the dusky light. “Malamar? I thought you were coming upstairs with me?”

  He gazed up at her, his eyes huge and round. Hadn’t he been the one to suggest they climb the staircase in the first place? Or did Malamar develop a sudden case of nerves? But what’d made him suddenly afraid? After all, they were safe, weren’t they?

  And besides all that, she refused to go anywhere without him.

  “Come on, Malamar,” she pleaded.

  She stood silent at the top of the stairs for a long moment, then breathed out a sigh of relief as he darted nimbly up the stairs on delicate footfalls. He reached her side at the top of the landing.

  Maddie pointed at a closed door on the opposite side of the staircase. “Earlier today, when I was in the parlor, I heard the floorboard creak above my head.”

  “Yes, indeed?”

  “Mama’s right over there, in that room.”

  For sure, wasn’t Mama on the opposite side of the door, seeing to the bedding?

  But Maddie didn’t hear a sound.

  Malamar cocked his head. “After you.”

  Well, at least he did come upstairs with me.

  “Chicken,” she said and smiled, but a whisper of unease flitted across the back of her neck—not enough to make the skin prickle, but just enough to make her suddenly hyper aware of the fact that she and Malamar were completely alone.

  And yet, Mama was surely up here somewhere, wasn’t she? Not fifteen minutes ago, she knew, her mother had walked up these very stairs; but it also appeared abundantly clear to her that her mother was not upstairs anymore; or, if she were upstairs, then she’d wandered off to a different wing, because this particular staircase had taken Maddie to a separate, isolated section of the abandoned nursing home. Apart from the sound of her own breath, she didn’t hear a thing. And that felt downright eerie.

  “I wonder,” Maddie joked, her voice cracking, “if we’ll find the room where they embalmed the dead people before shipping them off to the mortuary?”

  “If we do,” Malamar breathed, “I’ll make sure it becomes your bedroom.”

  “You’re a jerk,” Maddie giggled, and immediately a little of the horrible prickling sensation drifted off her skin. Which was a good thing, right?

  With a stealthy air, they eased down the dark hallway together. A door stood at the end of the hallway; it appeared to be a door that wanted opening. And then Maddie realized something else.

  Mama’s no longer anywhere near this part of the house.

  So, who made the sounds of Mama walking around the room, seeing to the sleeping arrangements? Had it been Mama, or something alien making Maddie believe it’d been her?

  Something’s wrong.

  She knew this as surely as if someone had whispered it in her ear. She just knew. She pulled her wand from her pocket and crept along the wall, with Malamar on her heels, attempting to make as little noise as possible.

  The closer she drew to the door, the harder her heart hammered. The door, closed, with a tiny crack between the bottom of the door and the floor, revealed nothing; in the next moment a silky shadow flitted across the floor.

  Uh-oh.

  She froze. Malamar saw it too, for the fur on his back burst out into little spikes of tension and he growled low in his throat. Maddie’s breath came out in ragged little gasps.

  Malamar hissed. “Coming up here, not such a good idea.”

  “We’re stuck here,” she whispered. “It knows we’re here.”

  The shadow shifted, then glided against the door, as if pushing it, or trying to push it, to see if it’d open.

  Okay, this is bad.

  From between the space between the bottom of the door sill and the floor, Maddie watched as the tendrils of shadow grew thinner, then lacy-thin transparent, then disappeared completely from view, followed by faint scratching sounds, like invisible fingers scratching the wood, as the shadow drifted up along the door, searching, searching, for fissures, cracks; anything that it could find to force its fingers through and break free. As the shadow pressed up against the door, feeling around the edges, testing it for firmness, checking to see how hard it was, whether it was pliable or not, the door bulged outward a little—

  But she failed to consider the doorknob.

  In the agonizing moments leading up to the instant the shadow discovered the doorknob, she continued to stand there, paralyzed, when the shadow suddenly figured out what a doorknob can do. The doorknob creaked, then slowly turned.

  It knows I’m here and it’s trying to get me.

  Slowly, cautiously, while still facing the door, she and Malamar backed away, creeping backwards down the long hallway, back to the staircase. The shadow’s efforts intensified and a strained, groaning sound emanated from the doorway, as if the shadow were using all its power to open the door.

  Get out of here, get out of here now!

  Malamar let out a strangled cry.

  The doorknob clicked.

  Rooted to the spot, Maddie watched in horror as the door creaked open.

  ****

  Malamar stood behind her, arching his back and hissing. Maddie kept her gaze riveted on the door, and began to slowly, and painstakingly, step backwards up the long hallway toward the staircase. For one brief second, she thought, she hoped, she dreamed, that she might outrun this thing, but she moved too slow, too little, too late.

  Terror rose in her heart as the door creaked open; silence, then a gasp as if someone let out a breath of air. The air tasted foul, rank, carrying with it the odor of decay, of death. It smelled worse than a cat box that hadn’t been changed in a month.

  In the next moment, a softly sinuous vapor of toxic black cloud drifted out through the open doorway, sending tendrils of smoke and vapor along the floor, as the black cloud scuttled, crab-like, directly toward her.

  Even without the odor giving it away, Maddie knew this was a bad spirit, possessing evil intent, and if it got near her it’d consume her. She skidded backwards; she’d nearly reached the newel post at the top of the staircase.

  If only I can reach it—

  “Maddie!” a voice called out from downstairs.

  She gulped. The vapor stopped, reared its head back in a column of smoke, as if also listening. So, now it knew her name.

  “Maddie? Madeleine, where are you?” the voice sounded frantic. Her mother, Claudia. Why did Mama’s voice sound as if she were calling from downstairs? Didn’t Mama climb these very st
eps not fifteen minutes ago, to see to the bedding?

  Maddie gasped. The column of toxic black smoke drew closer. In the distance, as if she herself were drifting around in a fog, she heard footsteps pounding up the rickety stairs. Mama was coming, but would she get there in time?

  Maddie shrieked as the vaporous cloud of poisonous fog curled around her feet, slipped icy tendrils of blackness into her shoes, wrapped tiny, incisor-sharp knives around her toes, making her feet feel cold, oh, so cold. Lacy tendrils of black smoke drifted up and out of her shoes, slipping lazily up her legs.

  “Maddie!” Mama screamed. She stood at the bottom of the staircase, her eyes seething with anger. She clutched her wand. “Maddie, get down!”

  Okay, I better hit the floor, but my feet feel frozen. I can’t move them.

  Crack!

  Mama’s wand beam of electricity sizzled in the dusky air, sending lightning sparks directly into the center of the mass.

  Crack!

  The black cloud, sensing a true foe, sprang forward, and engulfed Maddie in a malevolent lover’s embrace.

  Crack!

  Come to me, Madeleine. If you will only return to me, I shall restore your father to you.

  Maddie struggled to breathe, she struggled to draw air into her lungs; it felt like drowning, but it wasn’t water she was drowning in; she’d been swallowed up and was buffeted by billowing clouds of pain, sorrow, and grief.

  If you refuse to return to me, I shall do something terrible to your father. You will regret your decision until the end of your days.

  I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe!

  A wand thrust itself into the thickest portion of the black cloud and Maddie saw the tip of the wand trembling with a pent-up power.

  “Cumulonimbeum!” Mama’s voice cut through the fog in Maddie’s mind.

  The cloud dissipated instantly, but instead of releasing her to the floor, Maddie fell through the floorboards, into the space between the floorboards and the ceiling, and into yet another dark abyss of fog and despair. She opened her mouth to scream but no sound came from her throat. She floated in a dark dream world that soothed her as much as it also filled her with terror.