Gasping with fear, Xandra backed away as she desperately tried to pull the Key up from under her sweater where she could …Or could she? Even as she pressed the feather against her forehead, the humpbacked creatures moved closer as if … As if it was no longer working, just as Belinda had said it might happen.
Suddenly feeling terribly threatened, Xandra backed away and went on backing—out of the open clearing and down a narrow pathway between tall trees. Once out of sight of the monstrous figures, she turned and began to run. To run as fast as she could but, it soon became obvious, not fast enough. The creatures were running with her. She could hear their thudding footsteps, muttering, moaning voices and the snapping of twigs and swishing of branches as they ran beside her. Now and then she caught glimpses of humped backs and round-hooded heads. But she went on running until she tripped on a fallen tree limb and fell hard. Bruised and breathless, she scrambled to her feet and saw that it was too late. They were all around her.
On every side creatures of the Unseen oozed forward: humped and hooded almost-human shapes, and others that slithered across the ground like gigantic worms. Supported by their strange bloated bodies, their huge heads were almost faceless except for flaming eyes and the sharp, metallic glitter of teeth. And then they were attacking, just as they had done before.
Just as before, Xandra first smelled the awful stench of their breath, and almost immediately afterward, she began to feel their razor-sharp teeth. The teeth slashed and stabbed, ripping into her arms and legs and then her face and neck. She fought back, screaming in pain and hitting out with both fists. Striking out as hard as she could, she felt her knuckles thudding into objects that gave way under the blows and then once more surged forward. But although she struck again and again, and now and then the creatures seemed to fall back as if she had succeeded in fighting them off, a moment later they were back as fiercely punishing as ever. And once again she felt the fiery pain of their attacks. At last, when it became horribly clear that she would not be able to drive them away, she began to scream.
“Help,” she shrieked. “Help me.”
Her screams seemed to go on and on, repeating themselves as they echoed through the air, splintering into thin metallic sounds shredded by the jewel-sharp edges of the surrounding leaves and branches. “Help,” Xandra cried, and her cries spread and multiplied as they reverberated through the forest. Over and over again, “Help. Help me.”
Xandra was still screaming when something soft and swift brushed against her face, and turning her head to follow its touch, she saw a feathery wisp of light drifting away from her down a narrow passageway. Forcing her way between clinging, slashing clumps of darkness, she ran, following the feathered phantom. Once again she was running, following fleeting glimpses of winglike shafts of light, down a path that turned, twisted and broke out into a small meadow. A clearing that this time she recognized immediately and with absolute certainty. It was the place where she had found the white bird.
This time there was no doubt. The flat, almost circular open space was surrounded by tall trees, and there, just before her, was the fern-covered mound where the wounded bird had fallen. Staggering forward, Xandra collapsed, reaching out with both hands toward the mound.
Sometime afterward, how long she couldn't even guess, she became aware that all around her there were sounds and movements, but the sounds were not growls or moans, and the movements she was sensing didn't seem to be rapid or violent. But still, something was there.
Pushing herself to a sitting position, she glanced fearfully from side to side, but there was nothing to see except a carpet of ferns and vines encircled by tall trees. Vines and trees whose leaves glittered and pulsed with life, which meant that she was still in the world of the Unseen. But an Unseen that here in the white bird's meadow was not the same. The difference was everywhere, in the gentle touch of the breeze and the soft musky odors it carried. As well as in the absence of dark-robed creatures creeping toward her over the forest floor. No shadowy dark-robed shapes anywhere at all, and yet she felt she was not alone.
SITTING AMONG THE vines in the white bird's meadow, and hugging her knees against her chest, Xandra stared long and carefully in every direction. That she was still in the world of the Unseen was obvious. All around her the forest sparkled and surged with life, as did every strand of ivy and fern that covered the forest floor. And although the savage creatures were no longer attacking, the pain from their bites still throbbed and burned all over her body. Yes, the injuries were still unhealed. All over her arms and legs, and on her face and neck too, the wounds were raw and painful. But where were her attackers now? Where had they gone and why had they stopped tormenting her?
It was then that she began to guess why she was no longer being attacked. Just as the evil monsters had not entered her secret animal shelter behind the furnace, the white bird's meadow might also be a refuge, a peaceful sanctuary. And yet, why did she feel so certain that something probably as strange, and perhaps as dangerous, was close by and coming closer?
But this time the first creatures she actually saw—saw well enough to be certain—were very small. Creatures of the Unseen to be sure, vaguely defined and of uncertain shape, but with faces that were more than flaming eyes and slashing teeth. These small creatures were round-eyed and furry-faced, with damp twitchy noses and ears that flopped or flared. And there was at least one that flew, that soared across the clearing and back again and, at last, settled down on a low limb of the nearest tree. Turning his round, flat face from side to side, he opened his hooked beak and emitted his noisy clattering call.
“Ratchet.” Xandra jumped to her feet and started in his direction, only to see him flutter and fade from view. “Come back, Ratchet,” she called after him. “I knew it was you. I knew it all the time.” And she had known, or at least had almost guessed, that it had been Ratchet that led her away from the evil Unseen and into the safety of the white bird's clearing.
But Ratchet had disappeared. However, as Xandra turned back into the center of the open area, she became aware of another very small creature. In fact, several of them. As she walked slowly back to the mound, they seemed to be frolicking around her like a bunch of romping kittens. Yes, exactly like the very young kittens she'd found in a ditch beside Heritage Avenue and had raised to an age when they could be adopted out to friends and friends of friends. Remembering how cute they'd been and how much she'd hated to part with them, she sat down quickly, whispering the names she had given them.
“Muffet,” she whispered toward one prim pink-nosed face. “And there you are, Puzzle. I see you too.”
They seemed to hear. Each of them whose name she called paused, stared at Xandra and then skittered off and a moment later was replaced by another creature. The next one she recognized was Stinky for sure, his distinctive white stripe as noticeable as ever, running the length of his little black body and extending out to the end of his tail. And the aroma was Stinky too. More delicate perhaps now, but just as delightfully disgusting as ever. And the slow, self-confident, don't-fool-with-me gait was definitely his too. When Xandra held out her hand, he came closer, closer than any of the other friendly Unseen had until that moment.
When Stinky's shiny black nose touched her fingers, she turned her hand over and let him sniff the palm, just as he had always done, looking for a marshmallow or a handful of kibble. But now he came even closer, moving his searching nose up her arm until it stopped over one of the ugly wounds left by the bites of the monsters. Stopped, sniffed and then raised his tail indignantly as he had always done when something displeased him.
“I know,” Xandra said. “They bit me. Those ugly things bit me. But you wouldn't, would you?”
When she reached out to touch him, he faded away, but then he was back again and this time he allowed her to touch his warm silky head. She was still enjoying the warm reality of his presence when she noticed the approach of another familiar shape. The softly slithering shape of a friendly garter snake.
And along with Stinky and the snake there soon appeared another batch of romping kittens, as well as a flock of birds, sparrows and mockingbirds and one large and noisy blue jay—all the different kinds of birds she had raised, or at least tried to raise, from fledglings. And then Ratchet appeared again, down to earth now and stalking with owlish dignity on his great clawed feet.
The friendly creatures were bolder now, allowing her to touch and caress them. Lying back on the soft bed of ivy and ferns, Xandra gathered up armfuls of animals, just as she did in bed every night, except that these animals, as warm and real as they seemed for the moment, were only phantoms of the Unseen called up from formlessness by … by what? What brought them? How long would they stay? And when they had gone—what then? Suddenly Xandra sat up, shaking off a cluster of warmly cuddling creatures.
Around the white bird's sanctuary were many acres of surrounding forest. A forest where the deep shade was now swiftly fading toward a moonless night. Even now, with the sharply penetrating vision produced by the Key, Xandra was unable to see beyond the surrounding circle of trees. Looking at her watch, she gasped. If she didn't move quickly, she would soon be deep in the forest in the dark of night.
After quickly removing the remaining kittens from her lap, Xandra got to her feet and started off in the direction of the path she had been following when she had entered the clearing. She started, paused, looked around and came back to where she had begun.
“Ratchet,” she called. “Stinky. Come with me. Show me the way back to where I came from.”
The owl answered her call almost immediately, but when he reappeared, he only swooped down to land in the center of the clearing, where he moved in a small circle with stubborn solemnity. He paid no attention when Xandra urged him to “fly toward home, Ratchet. Fly to where I used to feed you. Go on, fly.” Even when she stomped her feet and waved her arms at him, he refused to take to the air.
And Stinky was even less helpful. Appearing suddenly at her side, he planted himself in one spot and stubbornly refused to budge. Finally, in desperation Xandra decided to go it alone, but when she started off toward the beginning of the path, it became obvious that Stinky and Ratchet were trying to force her to stay where she was. Stinky moved only enough to get in front of her, and with lowered head and raised tail he seemed to be threatening what he might do if she kept going. And when Ratchet finally took to the air, it was only to swoop around her head, close enough to make her throw up her arms to protect her face from his beating wings.
“Look,” she told them, “I have to go home. Why won't you let me?”
There was, of course, no answer. Animals of the Unseen, it seemed, were no more talkative than were the stuffed variety. Except that now her ears had begun to hear, or at least to feel, something. To feel a message that came perhaps from Stinky and Ratchet and seemed to be saying it would be dangerous for her to leave. A message that she simply had to ignore.
“No,” she called to the hovering owl. “It will be all right. See?” She gestured around the clearing. “They're gone. The monsters are all gone. And I do have to get home.”
Jumping over Stinky and ducking Ratchet's beating wings, she started down the path at a run. But she had only gone a few yards when her impatience turned to fear.
Once again she was aware that something was running beside her. From both sides of the pathway, crackling branches and savage, growling grunts warned that the monsters of the Unseen had returned. She tried to run faster, but on the narrow, twisting pathways it was now almost completely dark. After thudding painfully into tree trunks and scratchy brambles, she came to a stop and was immediately surrounded by fiery eyes and the glitter of razor sharp teeth.
There was still the Key—but would it help? It had failed once before. But now, as the stabbing teeth attacked, she managed to raise her arms enough to reach under her sweater, retrieve the feather and pull it up to where she could enclose it in both hands.
It was later, perhaps only a few seconds, or possibly as much as several minutes, when Xandra became aware that she was lying on the forest floor. Lying on the cold forest floor, and all around her there was only silence and darkness.
PUSHING HERSELF SLOWLY and cautiously to a sitting position, Xandra turned her head from side to side and saw … nothing at all. For a terrifying moment she thought she had been struck blind until she glanced up to where the night sky still showed a faded hint of sunset. But down on the forest floor, where she was sitting on what felt like a carpet of pine needles, there was only darkness. Complete, absolute and absolutely terrifying darkness. However, as she slowly began to realize, there were at least no threatening snarls or moans and no flashing eyes and teeth. She had escaped the Unseen.
And the terrible sharp pains left by the evil creatures' teeth? Suddenly becoming aware that she was no longer in pain, Xandra ran her hands over her arms first and then her legs and found no trace of the deep wounds. All the painful punctures that had tormented her even in the relative safety of the white bird's clearing now seemed to have disappeared. Had suddenly, magically healed, just as they had on that other day, when Belinda had shown her how to enter the world of the Unseen and then how to escape from it. And now, just as before, the wounds had disappeared, leaving only a slight itchy tingle where they once had been, raw and damp with blood.
So Xandra Hobson was safely back in the real world and for a moment she felt so relieved that she almost laughed out loud. Just for a very brief moment, though, before it became only too obvious that she still had some very serious problems. Problems like having missed dinner, which meant she would have been called first, and then looked for, and then …Then what?
She could imagine only too clearly what questions would have been asked and answered, by Clara and of course by the Twinsters, and what they might have said about the kicked golf ball and the fight that followed. And how what they said might have influenced the parents' decision concerning what should be done about their missing daughter. What should be done, and how soon they would have to do it. Remembering how more than once in the past, when she'd been particularly angry at someone, she had hidden out and refused to come to dinner, it occurred to Xandra that it was possible that nothing at all had been done, at least not yet. Not while the whole family was still waiting for her to come to her senses and come out of the linen closet or perhaps the attic, or wherever it was that she happened to be hiding this time.
The other more urgent problem was that she was alone somewhere in the middle of the forest on a dark night. On a very dark, very cold night. Not to mention, and not even to think about, if you could help it, a forest that might be full of dangerous real-life creatures. Mountain lions, perhaps, or rattlesnakes or some of the other dangerous things that, according to the twins, made their homes in the nearby hills and often came down to Xandra's forest to hunt for birds or rabbits, or other equally helpless victims.
Getting quickly to her feet, Xandra shuffled forward, reaching out blindly until her hands contacted a thicket of bushes. Scratchy, thorny blackberry bushes that pricked her fingers and obviously would tear her to pieces if she tried to push her way through. She turned back then and moved slowly in another direction, groping blindly until her hands found what seemed to be the trunk of a large tree. She was feeling her way around it when she suddenly visualized the trunk crawling with biting ants or poisonous spiders. Snatching her hands away, she moved on, only to stumble over something, an exposed root or a large rock, and fall to her knees.
But she kept on trying. Shivering now from the cold as well as from fear, she felt her way around tree trunks and bushes, trying to find an open pathway that might take her to …To where? Where did she think she was going? She had been shuffling in first one direction and then another, for a period of time that might have been a few very long minutes or even as much as an hour, when she began to accept that what she was doing was not only dangerous but entirely useless. Any sort of movement might very well be taking her farther away from home. T
here really was no point in trying to go anywhere until daylight returned.
She stopped then, or at least stopped moving in any particular direction. Instead she began to shuffle around in a small circle, stomping her feet, claiming a small spot the way dogs do before they lie down. Why? Who knows? Maybe it was something to do with the fact that she had always been so enchanted by animals, so used to thinking of herself as a half human, half animal. Or maybe she had just used her human mind to figure out that it would be a good idea to kill or scare away any ants or spiders that happened to be in the immediate vicinity before she sat down. Sat down to wait for daylight.
The waiting was long and terrible. Terribly lonely, terribly frightening and terribly uncomfortable. She sat upright at first with her knees pulled up against her chest, her skirt tucked around her legs and her arms wrapped around her knees. But a fairly heavy sweater, which was fine for daytime wear in late autumn, was not nearly warm enough under the circumstances. Clenching her teeth against their helpless chattering, she rested her head on her knees and tried counting slowly to one hundred and then backward again to zero. And then over again to one hundred, and back again. She didn't know why. It was something she usually did when she couldn't sleep at night, but now, when there was no hope of sleeping, it was only a way to try to convince herself that time was passing.
Now and then she held up her left arm and tried to see her watch but the darkness was so complete that she was unable to make out even the shape of the watch itself, let alone its hands and numbers. Time, she supposed, was actually passing but there was no way to tell how much of it had passed, or how long it would be until morning. Now and then she almost slept, or at least dozed a little and then woke with a start as she started to tip sideways or lose her grip on her knees. And as every slow minute passed, the cold became more and more unbearable.
The Unseen Page 11
