“How?”
“You’ll see.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. Nine was a sacred number. It was the number of the Mother Goddess and a magical number. Madame Knightly, whether she knew it or not, was performing hearth magic. Maybe her mother had been a kitchen witch. Maybe the Knightlys had once been a magical family, but the knowledge had gotten lost down the generations. Or, maybe Madame Knightly was lying.
“Why nine?” I goaded.
Madame Knightly smiled wistfully out the window. “Mother always used nine,” she said with a shrug, but this time, I saw a mischievous twinkle in her eye. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen that look. “Let me help,” she said then turned and stuck her hand into the pumpkin. She laughed. “I feel like a kid again.”
I looked at the seeds set along the sill. How long? The question rung through my mind. Shaking off the thought, I turned and helped Madame Knightly prepare the pumpkin. While the large pieces were baking in the oven, Madame Knightly set me to the task of toasting the leftover seeds while she wandered off with the pumpkin knife, which she had cleaned and safely stowed back inside a long, wooden box.
Once the seeds were ready, I got started with my usual Friday night work: taking an inventory of the kitchen. I always prepared a grocery list that I’d call into the store the next morning. The store delivered Madame Knightly’s food directly to the house. I was surprised, however, to discover that her kitchen was already stocked. Her pantry was bursting with canned food and other supplies, the fridge full of food. Madame Knightly was like that, still trying to take care of herself from time to time. Once I’d found her vacuuming the parlor. She looked so out of place with the old 50s vacuum. While her family’s heyday was done, Madame Knightly still held a certain air about herself. Maybe it had something to do with her elevated, classy accent. Her tone wasn’t quite Irish, though it had a small lilt to it. It was just refined, like her. She was a true lady, and she had no business with a vacuum.
I wandered off to work on the laundry instead. When that was done, the pumpkin had roasted long enough. I added it to the stock. Stirring slowly with a long-handled wooden spoon, I tossed in more herbs and splashed in some more heavy cream. The smell was divine. I let the soup cook down then pureed it with a handheld blender. Soon, the whole kitchen was filled with the delicious scents of roasted pumpkin, butter, cream, rosemary, cinnamon, and just a dash of cumin. I whipped together a quick pan of cornbread, and in no time, the meal was ready.
I prepared two trays and headed back to the ladies’ parlor from which I could hear Madame Knightly’s small TV. The TV, which had a slight green tint, looked as old as the vacuum. But it did the job. We always watched the evening news and a few of her favorite shows—including Matlock—before calling it a night.
“Oh, will you just smell that,” she exclaimed when I entered with the trays. Madame Knightly had already set out our TV trays so we could watch and eat, as was our custom. “Thank you, my dear,” she said as I placed the tray in front of her.
“And lots of toasted seeds for later.”
Madame Knightly laughed happily then pointed at the TV as I settled in. “Have you seen this?” she asked. “There is rioting in LA.”
“Really?”
“People are looting pharmacies. There was a shootout at a hospital.”
Mom. A sudden terror swept over me as I read the scrawling banner. Hospitals around the United States were filling beyond capacity as flu cases swelled to epidemic proportions. A map of the U.S. suddenly appeared on the screen, showing the hardest hit places and where the flu was growing. As the map swelled red, I could see the virus was headed toward us.
“We’ll be last,” Madame Knightly said as she watched the screen. “Why don’t you stay here with me? I spent all week watching cooking shows and went on a spending spree. I’m all stocked up. Surely they’ll cancel school next week. Your mother will be run off her feet at the hospital. Maybe you’d better just stay here.”
I stared at the scene on the TV, watching the map bloom again and again with red. A shiver ran down my back.
A moment later, Madame Knightly switched the channel to a rerun of The Golden Girls, forcing the bloody image away from my eyes.
“Amelia?”
“I’ll have to check with Mom. I’m sure it would be okay,” I said. Madame Knightly must have been scared. I didn’t blame her. If I got sick, who would look after her? And the scenes on the TV were just…it was getting really bad. I hadn’t seen anything like that before, not in the United States. “It will be okay,” I muttered absently while Betty White cracked a joke about a goat.
“Yes, it will,” Madame Knightly said then, setting her hand on mine.
When I turned to look at her, I saw she had a very serious look on her face.
Yep, she was definitely worried. I’d call Mom first thing in the morning.
“Now, let’s have some of this beautiful soup,” Madame Knightly said then turned her attention away, giggling at the TV while she blew on her spoon.
I stared down at the bowl, watching the steam lift in a strange, chaotic swirl, growing and rolling like the bloody map.
Chapter 6
Madame Knightly fell asleep in front of the TV shortly after dinner. I woke the sweet old thing, who woke up muttering something about Witch Wood’s gate, and led her to a small, private study just down the hallway from the library. Years earlier someone had moved Madame Knightly’s bed there. She’d also moved most of her knickknacks, music boxes, jewelry chest, and clothes into the space. As I helped her shift into her night dress, I noticed the pumpkin knife box sitting on her bureau.
“Good night,” I told her, lowering her into the bed.
“Good girl,” she whispered. “So glad I have my good girl.”
I smiled. “I’m glad I have you too.” I could feel my heart cracking. How in the world was I going to leave her next fall and run off to college? Something just felt wrong about it, like maybe that wasn’t what I was supposed to be doing. I needed to look again at online colleges. Maybe, if Madame Knightly got Internet service at Witch Wood, I could kill two birds with one stone. But even that didn’t feel right.
I stopped to double-check that the front door was locked, I then headed back to the ladies’ parlor and pulled out the blanket and pillow I had stashed in an ottoman and flopped down on the chaise. School was going to get cancelled next week, that was a sure thing now…and just when I started making progress with Logan.
I sighed then pulled out my cell phone. Dead spot. No service, as usual. I snuggled down onto the chaise and pulled the blanket up to my neck. One of these days I was going to sleep upstairs in one of the massive bedrooms with their poster canopy beds. One of these days, but not tonight. I shivered. It was turning cold. Madame Knightly needed to show me how to turn on the heat. I didn’t even know where the thermostat for the propane system was located.
Just as I closed my eyes, Bastet hopped onto the chaise. She stepped all over me, pausing to rub her head under my chin, then found an awkward spot near my head where she settled in for the night. I chuckled and fell off to sleep wearing a cat hat.
* * *
The sound of the old rotary phone jangling startled me awake. I looked out the window to see that the sun had just barely risen. Everywhere was covered in mist.
The phone jangled loudly again. I sat up. Bastet was already gone. I hurried toward the phone in the kitchen. The wood floor was incredibly cold. I shivered, pulling my blanket around me. I lifted the heavy old black receiver just as it chimed for the fifth time.
“Witch Wood Estate. This is Amelia. How may I help you?” I said, speaking the greeting just as Madame Knightly had taught me.
“Amelia?” Mom’s voice came through with a crackle.
“Mom? Is that you?”
“I can barely hear you. Can you hear me?” her voice sounded far away, like she was talking into a tin can. The line was full of static.
“Just. You okay?”
&
nbsp; “I caught the flu. I’ve been puking since midnight, so they sent me home. But something weird happened. Larry is gone. The TV is still on, but he’s nowhere…no phone calls, no nothing. The house was unlocked. Do you know where he is? Did he say anything to you?”
“No,” I replied in surprise. Larry never went far from home. He might accidently get a job. “He was going to help Mrs. Sommers last night. She came over ‘cause her furnace went out.”
“Yeah, he was over there when I left. Oh, my God, I feel like I’m going to drop dead,” my mom said then paused. I could just make out that she was rummaging around for something. “And I’m out of cigarettes. Great. If you hear from him, will you call me?”
“Mom, you shouldn’t be smoking if you’re sick. Do you have medicine? Maybe I should come home. I can stop by the Sommers’ and see if they know where he went. You need to go to bed.”
“No, hun. Stay out there. I don’t want you getting this,” she said and as if to accentuate the point, a moment later I could hear her puking in the background. She must have set down the phone. It sounded even hollower now.
“Mom?” I called. “Mom!”
After a minute, she picked up the phone again, but I could barely hear her. “Stay out there, baby girl. You’ll be safer at Witch Wood. I’ll call you when I’m feeling better. Love you,” she said, then the receiver went dead.
“Mom?”
I stared at the phone for a moment then hung it up. On the news they said people were dying in record numbers from the flu. Mom was right, I would be safer if I just stayed out here. But with Larry MIA, who would take care of her? Not that he was much use, but at least he could make her some soup or put her in bed. Where in the hell was he? Larry never left the house. I needed to go home. Vegetarians never got sick, right? I’d be fine.
I set the tea kettle on the burner. As I waited for it to boil, I looked outside. The fog was thick. I couldn’t even make out the outline of the greenhouse that sat directly adjacent to the kitchen window. I turned to prepare the rest of the breakfast when the little pumpkin seeds sitting on the window sill caught my attention. The first little seed on the line was dry and golden in color. The rest, however, had turned moldy green and black. Hearth magic for certain. The seeds told a tale. There was no other way to explain the sudden decay of all of them except one. Magic ran strong in the Knightly family, whether they knew it or not. But what, exactly, did it mean? Would it frost today? Tonight? I frowned. Seems as if the answer to the question, how long, was simply one night.
As I prepared Madame Knightly’s breakfast, I warred with myself. I loved Mom, and she didn’t have anyone but me. Madame Knightly also didn’t have anyone but me. I needed to do something. I just couldn’t leave my mom in a condition like that. By the time the tea, toast, boiled egg, and blackberries were ready, I’d made up my mind.
I carried the tray as quietly as possible to Madame Knightly’s room just in case she was still asleep. As usual, however, she was awake and lying in bed reading. She was looking at the book written in Latin I’d recovered the day before.
“I didn’t know you could read Latin,” I told her as I set her breakfast tray on the side table.
“Latin, Greek, French, Turkish, and even a dialect of old Celtic,” she said with a smile.
“Who taught you?”
“Well, when I was a girl, I had a very bright tutor, and I’ve got a quick mind for languages,” she said then set down the book. “Did I hear the phone?”
“Yes,” I said as I pulled the breakfast tray beside her bed. “My mom got the flu. She’s really sick, and my stepdad is missing. I was thinking—“
“You want to go check on her,” Madame Knightly said kindly.
“If you could spare me for just a couple of hours? I just need to see where Larry went. He’ll look after Mom…in his way. I’ll grab the rest of my things and come back to stay, like we talked about.”
When I looked back at her again, I saw Madame Knightly was gazing out the window. The sun had broken over the horizon, filling the sky with shades of pink and orange.
“What did your mother say for you to do?”
“To stay at Witch Wood, that I’ll be safer here.”
“She’s right.”
“I know, but I can’t leave her like that. She’s worried about him, and sick, and exhausted. Like they said on TV last night, people are dying from the flu.”
Madame Knightly smiled. “All right then, Amelia. We’ll see you back soon.”
“Do you need me to pick up anything in town?”
Madame Knightly shook her head. “I have everything I need here.”
“The phone reception was really terrible. I think the line is going.”
Madame Knightly shook her head. “It’s just the mist. It always…” Madame Knightly said, then paused as if searching for the right words. “It always disrupts the connection.”
“Can I do anything else before I go? There’s still leftover soup in the fridge. Do you need anything?”
“No. Just be careful.”
I hugged her tightly, feeling her frail frame in my arms. “Madame Knightly, maybe I shouldn’t…”
“Go and hurry back, my dear. Remember, you are always welcome and safe at Witch Wood.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much.”
Madame Knightly nodded then inclined her head to me.
“I’ll be quick. I promise.”
She nodded but said nothing more, simply reaching over for her teacup.
Feeling guilty, I headed back to the front of the house and picked up my backpack, the key, and pulled on my coat. The old front door was sticky. The fog must have expanded the wood. It took me all my strength to pull the door open. Outside, it was still foggy. I pulled out my cell phone. Still no reception. Sighing, I grabbed my bike.
A moment later, I felt a brush against my shins. Bastet.
“I’m glad the mice haven’t found your secret passageway in and out of the place yet,” I told her. She meowed at me then rubbed her head against my leg.
With Bastet trotting along beside me, I headed down the lane in the dense fog, walking my bike as I went. You could barely see three feet in front of you. In the mist, the gate came up on me suddenly. I stopped and pushed it open, guiding my bike to the other side. Knowing her place, Bastet stayed inside the gate.
“See you soon,” I told the little black cat who merely meowed in reply then flicked her tail back and forth like she was annoyed at me for leaving.
I was surprised to find that along the road, the mist had completely cleared. When I looked back at Witch Wood, however, the place was completely lost in the fog. Not even the chimneys shown above the mist. Odd.
I hopped on my bike and peddled back toward town. As I rode off, I checked my small round rearview mirror. I spotted a figure on the road behind me. Mister Sanders. Was he headed to the bluff? I biked past the walking path that led to the spot, a steep cliff with a large pond at the base. Kids used to swim there until someone jumped off the bluff’s edge into the pond and broke his neck. That happened when my mom was a kid. She’d been friends with the boy.
I glanced back at Mister Sanders once more. He was walking so unhurriedly. I guess he, just like Madame Knightly, was slowing down too. Guilt stole over me again, but I reminded myself that Mom needed me. I turned my attention ahead and peddled fast toward home.
Chapter 7
As I rode back into town, the scene that unfolded confused me. Several people were outside their houses nailing wood planks and plastic over the windows. I saw people unloading cases of food into their home. Even more, I saw families packing up their cars, the trunks full of supplies. Many people were wearing surgical masks. Several vehicles whipped past me, and in the distance, I could hear the wail of sirens.
There was a line of cars parked all the way down Nineteenth Avenue. It wasn’t until I passed the gas station that I saw people had been lined up for more than a mile to get gas. The scene was the same but much more c
haotic at the bank. The bank’s doors were closed…but it was Saturday morning. People stood outside banging on the glass.
“Open the damned door,” I heard a man roar.
The voices grew louder, and as I biked away, I heard the crashing sound of glass.
I didn’t even look back, just peddled harder. As I turned the corner at Fifth Avenue, however, I nearly ran into a guy wearing a gas mask pushing a completely loaded grocery cart. I swerved to miss him and had to jump off my bike to keep from falling.
“Sorry, Amelia,” he said, stopping for just a moment to help me pick up the bike.
My heart pounding in my chest, I looked at the guy once again. I realized then that it was Brian.
“Brian? What in the hell is going on?” I asked.
“Don’t go to the grocery store. It’s scary in there. People are starting to freak. You better go straight home,” he said through the mask. “I’d take you to make sure you get there okay, but Brianna and Mom are at home…I don’t want to leave them for long. My dad was sick, and on the TV they said…” but his voice trailed off.
“It’s okay,” I told him. “I’m headed there now. Be safe.”
“You too,” he told me then headed off once more.
I looked down the street toward the grocery store. I could see red and blue police lights flickering. Mom never kept anything to eat at home. I hoped she had enough to get her through. If not, once she was feeling better, I could take her to Witch Wood. A guilty feeling swept over me. If people were starting to lose it, Madame Knightly wasn’t safe alone out there. I needed to go back. If people started looting, they might go to the old estate looking for valuables.
My thoughts were interrupted by the peppering sound of gunfire coming from the grocery store followed by the sound of a police officer’s voice over a PA system.
I turned my bike and pushed fast toward home.
Larry’s old truck and Mom’s bug were parked in the driveway. I cast a glance across the street and saw that the front door to the Sommers’ two-story house was hanging wide open. I leaned my bike against the tree, setting my hand on the trunk for just a moment in greeting.
Witch Wood: The Harvesting Series Book 4 Page 4
