by Lori Woods
What choice do I have? I’m not dreaming, and I’m stuck in this loony-tunes town until I find a way out. “Okay, appoint me head librarian,” I say with a sigh.
“Great!” Sheriff Dudley says as he approaches the service desk. “All you have to do is reach out and touch your index finger to my tin star.”
I look at the tiny plastic star pinned on the front of his shirt. “You do know it’s not tin but plastic? In fact, I have seen that same star in boxes of Cracker Jacks,” I tell him.
“Yeah, well lots of magical things come out of Cracker Jacks!”
“Really, you want me to touch your tiny plastic star and all of a sudden I’m Nightshade’s new librarian?”
“That’s what he said.” Alford shakes his head. “I keep forgetting that you have to be especially patient with people from the other side.”
“Fine! I’ll touch your star if it makes you happy,” I say as I reach my hand out. I feel stupid as I touch the tip of my index finger to the plastic star.
“Eeeeeee!” I scream as I feel the electric shock. “You fooled me! That’s a joy buzzer!” I say angrily.
I have to wait for Sheriff Dudley and Alford to stop laughing to get a response.
“No, no, that was just the transfer of energy from the library to you. Now you have complete access to the entire library. Any door will open for you. Any book will show you its name,” Alford explains.
It’s true. I sense the library as though it’s a living being. The books are whispering my name, Suzy Maycomber. God, this is not a dream. I really am not in Kanas anymore!
Suddenly, the door to the office flies open.
“Dead dead!” the doctor announces. “Murder! We have a murder in Nightshade.”
“The Shadow Man!” I say and feel the truth in my words.
“She’s right,” Sheriff Dudley says. “The warlock, Night Shadow, must be responsible for Rachel’s death.”
“Yes, I felt his presence when I was examining Rachel’s body,” the doctor confirms with a nod.
“But I thought you said my grandmother destroyed him?” I say, looking confused. He’s dead, isn’t he?”
“Dead, yes, but not dead dead! He’s something like a wraith. He can enter another person’s body and take control, and no one would know.”
“So what you are telling me, Doctor,” I say, looking into his beautiful silver eyes and having to blink to break contact, “is that this shadow man, this Night Shadow, can by anyone?”
“More or less,” the doctor says as he touches his finger to the pointed tip of his right ear. “Maybe you can find a spell in the library that will reveal his identity before he kills again?”
“Are there any telltale signs that will help me recognize whose body this wraith…uh… Night Shadow has taken possession of?”
The handsome man shakes his head as he beams a smile at me. “Not that I am aware of, my dear.”
I feel a little tingly when he calls me ‘my dear.’
Is the good doctor flirting with me? Maybe, I think and smile.
“This is a very dangerous situation!” Sheriff Dudley says as he paces back and forth in front of the service desk. He suddenly stops and glances at me. “Suzy, you have to take special care. Night Shadow lured you here for a reason. He killed Rachel to keep you here. I think your life is in mortal danger.” He glances over at Alford. “You help protect her, Alford! If we lose her, we will be without a librarian for a long spell.”
“You can count on me,” Alford says as he starts throwing punches into midair.
“Suzy, don’t trust anyone! Night Shadow is a powerful warlock, even in death.”
God, I wish he was dead dead! I suddenly think.
6
I’m a witch! I’m a witch! The words keep bouncing around in my head like a song I can’t stop humming. It can’t be true, but it is. Now I just have to accept it. I’m sitting, watching the doctor as he walks out of the library along with Sheriff Dudley.
“Alford, is the doctor single?” I ask softly.
“It’s a sad story. He’s the last of the elves in Nightshade. They all died of a strange disease, except for him. He was a boy when all the elves started dying. That’s why he became a doctor.”
“How sad,” I say. But when I remember how he looked at me, I feel anything but sadness.
“So how does it feel to be the new librarian?” Alford asks.
I start to say awful! But that’s not true. It feels like a good fit, but a little overwhelming as I have all this knowledge swirling around in my head that touching Sheriff Dudley’s Cracker Jack star transferred to me. God, the dwarf is right. The books do whisper among themselves.
“I’m not sure, Alford. It’s going to take a little getting accustomed to because Nightshade is a completely upside down world from Potomac.”
“Ah, you mean magic,” the dwarf says, smiling up at me. “Your world must be boring without magic.”
“It’s not just the magic. It’s the supernatural beings that populate Nightshade. On the other side of the cemetery, they are only imaginary. Here they are real!”
“Yeah, well, I do wish some of them were imaginary, especially Night Shadow. Curse his evil soul for killing Rachel!” Alford says, shaking his fist in the air.
“Yeah, this Night Shadow is like a storm cloud over me, especially since he could be anyone. But why did he kill her?”
“To keep her from helping you cross back to the other side. For some unknown reason, he lured you here and he wants to keep you in Nightshade. And I am sure it’s not to become your best friend.”
“It must have something to do with my grandmother’s silver drinking cup!”
The dwarf shrugs. “I don’t know why that particular cup should be special. They sell them at the dime store around the corner.”
“Really? You still have dime stores here? On the other side, they are called dollar stores now.”
“Hmm…inflation must be rampant on the other side.”
“Where is Snowball?” I say, suddenly remembering that she’s out running free in the library. Almost immediately I know where she’s hiding. How do I know this? No, I don’t want the answer, I think as my mind has absorbed as much strangeness as it can hold in one day. So without questioning how I know, I walk back into the rows of bookshelves and pluck Snowball off a leather-bound copy of Puss and Boots.
“I don’t want to know if you can suddenly read,” I tell her as I carry her back and put her on the top of the service desk. I expect her to bolt away immediately but she sits and starts licking her favorite paw.
“Oh, I see you found Hairball,” Alford says. “Some of the books are complaining already about cat hair,” he says gruffly.
“Would they prefer cat hair or mice nibbling on their pages?” I ask, leaving out the known fact that Snowball has never met a mouse she didn’t like.
“Yeah, there’s that. I never thought about Hairball scaring away the mice,” Alford admits.
I don’t correct him for calling Snowball Hairball. I figure he’s doing it out of spite.
“Okay, so now I’m the librarian; at least until I can locate the exit spell,” I tell Alford. “But where am I going to live? I’m not sleeping in the library!”
Instead of answering me, the dwarf waddles up to the service desk and opens a drawer. I watch his stubby, little hand reach inside. When he pulls his hand out, he’s holding a set of keys.
“Here,” he says, holding them out to me.
“What’s this?”
“Keys to your grandmother’s cottage.”
Suddenly, a warm feeling flushes through me as forgotten memories of a stone fireplace and the smell of fresh-baked bread surfaces.
“I remember the cottage. It’s…deep in the woods, with a huge oak tree in the front yard.”
Alford shrugs. “I wouldn’t know since she never invited me there. Nobody ever invites me anywhere.” He stops talking and raises his arm, sniffing his armpit. “I shower every day, so it
can’t be BO. I guess it’s my handicap?”
“Handicap? What handicap?” I ask. “Your dyslexia because you can’t read?”
“No, no. Who cares if I can read or not. I’m height-challenged! I told you that before,” Alford says, giving me a can’t-you-remember-anything look.
“Oh, that.” I say, forcing a sour look onto my face, when in fact I want to burst out laughing. “Well, you know some people want everyone to be a clone of themselves,” I say, not knowing what else to tell him.
“Yeah, I’m unique! No one in Nightshade is as handsome as I am!” He winks at me. “It’s their loss.”
“So, Alford, can you tell me how to get to my grandmother’s cottage?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Down Main Street and through the woods to grandma’s house we go,” he says and winks with the other eye.
“Alford, with all that’s happened to me, I am not amused,” I say sternly. Suddenly I have a vision of deep woods and wolves. “That’s not a very helpful or kind thing to say.” I add.
“Really, you’re a witch and you’re frightened of a few big, bad wolves?”
“Please don’t call me a witch,” I say, shaking my head.
“But you are one,” Alford says in a whiny voice.
“Yeah, well I haven’t wrapped my mind around that fact yet. Give me a little time. I am from the other side, you know.”
“Yeah, that’s obvious,” he says under his breath. “Be sure to take Hairball with you when you go.”
Snowball, who is sitting on the service desk, hisses at the dwarf.
“And do they make muzzles for cats?”
“Don’t worry. She’ll warm up to you. She loves little, uh, I mean height-challenged people.” I stretch my arms and yawn. “I’m tired, Alford. I think I’ll drive to grandmother’s place….” What, am I stuck in a Grimm’s fairy tale—or is this just a grim fairy tale? First, it was the song; now it’s Little Red Riding Hood. “I’ll drive to the cottage and call it a night. I wouldn’t wish the day I’ve had on the shadow man himself.”
“Suzy, don’t make light of Night Shadow. He’s dangerous. Remember, he killed your parents, and for some reason he’s now after you.”
“I’m not worried. He’s afraid of my broomstick,” I say before thinking.
“Broomstick! So you’ve been fooling us about not knowing you are a witch?”
“No! I collect brooms. I drove the shadow man off with a broom. I thought I might need it again so I put it in my car. That’s all. It’s an old broomstick I got from a flea market. At least it looks old, but for all I know they might make them by the thousands in India and dirty them up and sell them as antiques in the U.S.”
Alford doesn’t look convinced.
“Come along, Snowball.” I stop myself from saying to grandma’s house. “Let’s go to the cottage,” I add.
I don’t expect Snowball to follow me like a dog, but lo and behold, she jumps off the service desk and heads toward the door with her tail raised high in the air. Hmm, I think that’s something like giving the dwarf the finger! I follow her out the door. Oh my God, if I’m a witch, that makes Snowball a witch’s cat!
Snowball turns her head and looks back at me and meows.
Okay, it was just a coincidence. She had no idea what I just said, I tell myself as we walk toward the entrance columns where Sprout—for some reason I now know the gardener’s name— is still planting poison ivy.
“Congratulations on your new job,” Sprout says, flashing his black teeth as he speaks.
I smile. Snowball hisses as we walk past. And I barely catch the words, “I hate white witches,” the man mumbles under his breath as he puts the last of the poison ivy plants in the soil.
Why does he hate white witches, I think and try to remember to ask Alford about him the next time I see him.
Snowballs seems happy to get back inside the car. It is only when I’m behind the steering wheel that it dawns on me that I left her carrier in the library. I glance at the building but can’t force myself to go back inside.
“You aren’t going to run away from Mommy are you, pumpkin?” I ask, looking at her sitting in the seat beside me. I get a little meow in answer and take that as a no as I start the car. As I drive through downtown Nightshade, I am struck by how normal it looks. It could be any little town in eastern Pennsylvania.
Can’t tell a book by it cover, I think as I see the last of the houses in my rearview mirror. I feel like I’m heading home. I enjoy the cozy feeling, but it vanishes as I suddenly find myself driving though the deepest, darkest forest I have even seen. I really do feel like Little Red Riding Hood, alone in the deep dark woods.
“Meow,” Snowball says to remind me that I’m not alone.
Something is missing, I think as I stare at the road. Roadkill! There’s no roadkill! What would eat roadkill so quickly as to leave no sign? Big rats... little wolves...werewolves? Oh, God, I don’t want to know. Maybe one of the big street sweepers comes along every day.
I giggle suddenly.
“No, I bet if they have one of those street sweepers, they are too busy sweeping up werewolf poop in Nightshade to have time for roadkill out in the woods!”
“Meow,” Snowball says to remind me that I’m not alone.
“Yeah, are you going to scare off the big bad wolf, pumpkin?” I ask jokingly. My joking mood vanishes when I round a curve and see none other than the veterinarian walking beside the road in a black jogging outfit.
Snowball hisses as she peeks out over the dashboard and sees the vet as I slow down. When I am even with him, I roll down the window. “What are you doing out in these spooky old woods?”
If he says I’m on my ways to grandma’s house, I’ll floor the accelerator immediately.
“Oh, hi! I heard about you getting appointed as the new librarian. Congratulations. I’m just out jogging.”
“Thanks,” I say as I find myself admiring his trim, muscular body.
“And what brings you out here?” he asks as he matches pace with my car.
“I’m going to be staying in the cottage down the road,” I respond. “Ah, you haven’t seen any big bad wolves around here, have you?” I say, half-joking.
“The cottage is about four miles farther on,” he says, again ignoring my attempt at humor.
He must have something serious on his mind. Best let him keep on jogging. “Okay, I’ll see you around,” I add as I pull away slowly.
“Sure thing, Suzy,” he calls out.
God, how rude of me! I didn’t even ask him his name, I silently scold myself.
“See, Snowball, it doesn’t hurt to be nice,” I say, smiling at the image of the vet as it grows smaller and smaller in the mirror. “He’s very handsome, Snowball,” I add.
She hisses, which I choose to ignore, knowing she is still pouting over him giving her the rabies shot.
Suddenly I slam on the brakes and come to a tire-squealing halt a few feet from a bushy tree limb that has fallen across the road. It’s not that large but I’m afraid it will get hung up under the Escort if I try to pull over it, and the ditches on each side of the road are too steep to attempt to drive around the limb.
“I don’t like this, Snowball. It looks natural, but someone could have placed it there.” I say, feeling the need to verbalize my suspicions. “Now, do I get out or turn around and drive back to town?”
No, I think immediately. I couldn’t face that bearded little dwarf with the story of turning around because a tree limb was across the road. He already thinks I am a weenie. Okay, I’m going to try dragging the branch out of the way, but I need a weapon. I glance into the back seat and see only the broomstick. Better than nothing!
So, armed with an antique-looking broomstick that I can’t swear is a real antique, I get out of the car. I glance on each side of the road before I approach the fallen tree limb. Nothing. I’m just over excited, I think. Overhanging tree limbs fall all the time onto roads.
I have to lay the bro
omstick down to grab the end of the limb with both hands. I give it a tug. Good, it’s not too heavy. I start to pull on it again, when out of the corner of my eyes, I see a dark figure emerging from the bushes at the side of the road. The figure is not a shadow but a real man dressed from head to toe in black. Somehow, I have the clarity of mind to grab the broomstick. I have time only to cock it part way over my shoulder, like a baseball bat, when the man is upon me. I barely have room to swing and I realize that the blow is going to be a powderpuff.
“Holy Mackerel!” I shout when the tiny blow from the broomstick not only knocks the attacker off his feet, but all the way back across the road. He lands in the ditch with a loud thump and a sound like the wind has been knocked out of him. He stumbles to his feet like a drunk and takes a couple of staggering steps in my direction.
I throw the broomstick at him like a javelin and then turn to run back to the car. But suddenly I hear the man scream. To my amazement, I see the broomstick beating the man over the head of its own accord. The man has his hands over his head and is running for the trees. The broomstick and attacker disappear into the trees as I stand staring after them with my jaw hanging open.
“This is too bizarre!” I say, lifting my hands to my head. Just when I think it can’t get weirder, the broomstick comes flying back to me and drops to the ground at my feet. “Oh my God, it really is a witch’s broomstick!” I pick it up and stare at it with amazement. Without any more interference, it takes me only a few minutes to drag the tree limb off the road. When I start the car, I glance over at Snowball, who is cleaning her favorite paw.
“It was the Night Shadow!” I shout.
I glance in the rearview mirror as I drive away but see nothing.
Could it be the veterinarian who is the Night Shadow? He was dressed in black, too. Tomorrow I must ask Alford more about the vet.
“Okay, Snowball, maybe you’re right about the vet. But if that’s who it is, he’s going to have a sore head tomorrow. Broom Hilda sure whacked him good.” Suddenly I realize I have given my broomstick a name—Broom Hilda.
