Tab Bennett and the Inbetween (21 page)

 “What did it say?” George asked.

“It said a lot of nonsense. They boasted about taking Alexander, said they could take any of us at any time and we should all be afraid, and they promised that they would, starting with Bennett if certain demands weren’t met.”

“Certain demands?” I asked. “What demands?”

George said, “Don’t,” at the same time as Francis said, “They want you to give up the throne, of course.”

It was a busy Friday afternoon at the bank, right around lunchtime. The sun streamed in through the windows up near the vaulted ceiling and the dust motes danced. The marble floor reflected the light, making the cavernous room glow. A long line of people waited inside the snaking velvet ropes with their payroll checks in hand. Their thoughts drifted into my head. I tried to ignore them but,

‘Pick up milk.’

‘So tired.’

‘Call mom later.’

flashed into my brain anyway. I had no control over when or why I could read someone’s thought but since my mental field trip to the Inbetween it was definitely happening more often.

Between the cacophony of to-do lists echoing in my mind and my own worries, I was having a hard time paying attention to my work. I couldn’t wait for the lunch rush to end but the line didn’t seem to be getting any shorter.

 “I can help you down here, Ma’am,” I called out.

At the window next to me Nina was finishing up with her customer. Her emerald green blouse looked gorgeous next to her bright red hair and creamy skin and her customer was appreciating the view as she leaned over to count his money into the palm of his hand. She looked up suddenly, giving him a disarming smile.

“Have a nice weekend, sir,” she said seductively, all femme fatale and sex appeal. He sputtered but managed to wish her the same before he left the desk.

Allison was at the customer service desk. Her mouse brown hair was up in a bun held in place with two criss-crossed BFB pens. I didn’t think Pop would approve of that but Trudy, who was standing next to her explaining the benefits of a savings account to a small boy holding a piggy bank, didn’t seem to mind.

“Ma’am?” I said again, waving my hand to catch her attention. I could tell the moment she saw me; it was like watching the lights come on in an empty room. She hurried over, embarrassed at her lapse of attention.

“Sorry, I was in another world.”

“Believe me, I know the feeling.”

I was typing her account number into the computer when I heard it.

Tabitha, Tabitha, little run away queen. Pull her down into the ground, and then we’ll make her scream.

My head jerked up and I scanned the bank, looking for the pale skin and hair, the dark sunglasses that would give the Dark Elf away. But no one in the crowd stuck out.

I looked at the woman at my window, wondering if she might be one of They. She looked normal, harmless, like any other wife and mother out running errands on a weekday afternoon. She was a regular customer, not someone I knew, but someone I saw every week. I just couldn’t believe she was the one thinking those horrible thoughts about me.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

 “I’m fine. I thought I heard someone calling my name.” I looked down at my computer screen and took a deep breath.

The woman looked behind her and shrugged.

Tabitha, Tabitha, little run away queen. To bring her down below the ground is our dark king’s dream.

The singsong voice was so soft I couldn’t tell for sure if it was a man or a woman singing the deranged nursery rhyme. My hands were shaking as I counted out the woman’s money. It was almost impossible to slip the pile of twenties into the bank envelope but somehow I managed it.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” the woman asked uncertainly as I handed her the envelope.

I forced myself to smile and nod. “Yes. Thank you. Have a nice day.”

“You OK, Tabby Cat?” Nina asked. She must have seen the panic on my face; her own eyes went wide with worry. “Wait right there. I’m going to get George.” She put the ‘Next Window Please’ sign in front of me and hurried to find him.

The song started again, a little bit louder. I tried not to run, not to draw attention to myself but I probably looked as scared as I felt. I hurried through the lobby of the bank, desperate to reach the break room.

“Where are you going? Tab? Tab?” I heard Trudy calling but I didn’t stop to answer her. I was focused on getting to my locker, opening it. I just had to get my keys from my purse, once I had my keys I could get in my car, and then I could drive home. I would be safe at Witchwood Manor.

Tabitha, Tabitha, little run away queen…

I didn’t hear the rest of the chorus. My terrified brain went into self-preservation mode, shutting out everyone’s thoughts but my own – although honestly, I could have done without those too.

I don’t know how, but I managed to get my locker open. I grabbed my purse and my coat and ran out the back door, quickly closing the short distance to my car.

“Calm down,” I told myself as I clicked the button to lock the doors. “Stop shaking and drive.” I buckled my seatbelt and pulled out of the parking spot without looking behind me.

*******

“You’ll feel better if you drink it.” George pushed the teacup towards me and sat down. Even though I’d left him without a ride home when I ran from the bank, he managed to beat me back to the Manor. “Take a little sip.”

With my knees drawn up against my body and my arms wrapped around my legs, the shaking that had started as a shiver in the parking lot at BFB was almost bearable. I wasn’t about to risk letting go for a cup of tea.

He picked up the yellow legal pad and reread the words to the rhyme again before tearing the page out, folding it, and putting the paper in his pocket. I had written it down as soon as I got home. I didn’t want to forget it. I don’t know why I thought I ever would.

He scooped sugar into my untouched cup then put it in my hand. “Drink it now.”

I took a reluctant sip, then another. George was right; the warmth spread out across my body, relaxing my tense muscles.

“You should have told me about the mind reading the minute it started. Does Alex know? Does Robbin?”

“No,” I admitted. “I kept meaning to tell them but it just never seemed like the right time. Please don’t yell at me.” I said it so softly even I wasn’t sure I’d spoken out loud.

“I’m not yelling at you,” George yelled. A picture of Francis popped into his mind, and into mine too.

“No George, you can’t. Promise me you won’t tell Francis what happened today,” I stuttered out. “They have enough to worry about. Please let’s just wait until everyone comes home.”

I didn’t realize I’d started crying until he handed me a tissue. “Please don’t cry. We’ll figure it out. Try to calm down. Do you want more tea?”

I tried everything; looking up at the ceiling, biting my lip, pressing my fingers into the corners of my eyes—nothing worked. Tears, brought on by worry and fear and three different kinds of frustration, poured out of my eyes.

An hour later George was bent over the kitchen table; scribbling furiously into a notebook he’d taken from Pop’s desk, a pair of reading glasses perched low on his nose. It wasn’t easy, but I’d somehow convinced him that we could handle the situation ourselves. There were conditions, of course but aren’t there always? The first one was that I would give up my job at the bank. If that’s where the threat was waiting for me, it was easy enough to avoid it simply by staying home. The second was that I would stay inside the Manor. Also fine with me, it was too cold to linger outside anyway. The third, the hardest to accept, was that if somehow one of They got into the house – which George repeatedly assured me was unlikely – I would run up to the attic and lock the door.

“But that doesn’t make sense,” I said.

George stopped writing and peered at me over the top of his glasses. I am relatively sure he was wearing them because he thought they looked cute – which they did – rather than because he actually needed them to see.

“It makes perfect sense,” he said, exasperated.

“Remember that movie we watched the other night? And that girl with the huge boobs, what’s her name, was being chased around the house by that guy with the knife. Remember she ran right passed the front door and went upstairs to hide? What did we both say?”

“This isn’t the same.”

“We both said, ‘run outside stupid.’ Remember? Because if a knife wielding maniac is chasing you inside the house, the best place to go is...that’s right, outside. The attic is a death trap.”

He sighed. He pushed the glasses up onto the top of his head. “If a knife wielding maniac comes into the house and tries to kill you, by all means run outside, get in your car, and drive away. But please believe me, if one of They gets into the house you are better off running upstairs and if you don’t want me to get Francis and Robbin back here right now, you’d better agree to do just that.”

“Fine, fine. I’m just saying.”

He went back to writing, including a knife wielding maniac clause into section three of the agreed upon terms. When he was finished we both signed it and he posted it on the fridge with a Bennett Falls Bank magnet to hold it in place. 

I wish I could say that it felt like overkill, that I was chafing under the thought of a new restrictions but it didn’t. Frankly, I was terrified. They of the Dark didn’t just plan to kill me, which was scary enough, they raised their children on songs about the day they finally would. I couldn’t help but picture a classroom full of pale children sitting in a circle, singing the rhyme together, wishing me dead. That image alone made me all too happy to follow the rules.

He insisted on layering the Manor with extra protective enchantments in addition to the ones that were already in place. I followed him around the house while he worked, watching carefully as he whispered the words that made the magic that kept the bad guys out.

At first, I thought there would be more to see, maybe some flashing lights or shooting stars or something. But it turns out laying an enchantment is much quieter than that, a lot less showy. It’s something you feel, not something you see. It’s like the moment before the rollercoaster drops over the edge of the first steep hill – when the ride is all tension and suspense – and then, just as the magic sets, there’s the rush, the release, as the cart drops over the edge. When he was through I clapped and he took a bow. He looked pretty satisfied with himself.

“You know what we’re doing next, don’t you?” George asked.

“Calling Trudy?”

“Give that girl a prize.”

When Trudy picked up the phone, I told her I would need to take some time off. She was characteristically nice about it; she didn’t ask why I had or how long I’d be out even though “some” is a very nonspecific amount of time. It might have meant three days, it might have meant three months. Since I didn’t know how long the lockdown would last, there was really no way I could tell her anything more.

“Now I’m really starting to worry.” I could picture sitting at her desk, twisting the phone cord around her fingers the way she did when she was worried or stressed. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Not really. I think I just need to rest. I’ll be back soon.”

She was quiet for a minute and although I couldn’t read her thoughts, I knew she was deciding what else to say. “I wish you’d tell me what’s really going on. I’m worried about you – as your friend, not as your boss.”

She gave me a chance to answer, a long, quiet moment where I could have told her everything. I wanted to. I knew I’d feel better as soon as I did. But I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. I said “um” a bunch of times but that was about it. I just couldn’t figure out where to begin.

 “It’s all right honey. I hope you know I’m here if you need me,” she said when it became clear I wasn’t going to say anything. “Get better and come back when you can. I’ll bet Allison won’t mind picking up a few extra shifts until you do. I don’t have to tell you that there’s always a place for you here.”