The Witch (9 page)

A hiss quieted Molly as she zeroed in on the wooden box. The images on the box flowed, wavelike. A savage dance ringed the box with unattractive beings.

“The uglies,” she said remembering what Stephen had told her.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” a muffled voice said.

She turned and saw the shadow of an animal moving down the stairs. When she caught up with the real being she realized it was Stephen dressed in his costume with the mask fitted tightly over his face.

“You scared me, Stephen.” Her nervous laugh seemed too high-pitched.

“Dad said no one should come down here.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Yes you did ‘cause I told you.”

“I’d forgotten. I came down to see the box you told me about.”

“If you remembered the box, then you should have remembered the warning.”

Molly realized the voices had stopped, but she didn’t know whether it had been before or after Stephen entered the basement.

“Stephen, do you ever hear voices down here?”

“Go upstairs, Molly. I don’t want to have to tell Dad that I caught you down here.”

“You’re down here too.” She turned her back on Stephen and lifted the box. “I could have sworn the images were circling the box a few minutes ago.”

“They’re bound to the box.”

“By a spell?” she asked, holding the box up to the dim naked bulb that hung from the ceiling.

“That’s my mother’s box. Put it down.”

“Your mother doesn’t own anything in this world anymore.” She turned and faced Stephen with the box still in her hands. “Did you inherit the box? Are you supposed to continue your mother’s witchcraft? Did she leave you a book of spells?”

“Please don’t take the box, Molly. It belonged to my mother.”

“I’m not a thief, Stephen. I’m simply curious as to what use you could put this box to.”

Stephen pulled off his mask and walked closer to Molly. When she handed him the box he took a step backward.

“You’re afraid of the box. Why, Stephen? What kind of power does this box have?”

“Dad is talking about replacing you with a new babysitter. I like you and don’t want him to do that, but if you don’t put the box down I’m going to report you to Dad.”

“I bet your father doesn’t even know about this box. He’d be upset if he knew you came down here and played with the box.”

“I never touch the box, Molly, and you shouldn’t either. Momma knew how to control the uglies; you don’t.”

Molly squatted down to Stephen’s level.

“Show me how to use the box, Stephen.”

He shook his head.

“The uglies don’t like people.”

“Did they like your mother?”

“They did what she told them to do.”

“And what was that?”

Stephen shrugged.

“Did you ever see the uglies do bad things?”

“They fought among themselves a lot, and Mom would have to quiet them down.”

“Why did she want them around?”

“She said one day they would serve a purpose, but she didn’t tell me what the purpose was. She wanted me to touch them and talk to them, but they’re too ugly and nasty.”

“Do you want me to take the box away?”

“No! Momma would be mad. She likes having them near her.”

“But she’s not here anymore, Stephen. If you’re afraid of the box we can throw it away. We can even throw it into the furnace.”

Molly felt the images on the box turn to sludge. The box fell to the floor. Stephen walked past Molly and found a candle lying near a leg of the table. He brought the candle to her and asked her to light it.

“I don’t have any matches.”

“Lift the lid of the box.”

The images looked frozen on the box, but she hesitated, recalling the ooze that had dampened her fingers a short while ago. Bravely she reached down and lifted the lid, spying a set of matches inside. She removed one and struck it on the underbelly of the box. Stephen lit his candle and knelt next to the box. He paused to look up at Molly before lowering the candle to the box. He allowed several drops of melted wax to fall on a blackish snake. The color blackened to a shine and the snake throbbed and twisted until it finally fell from the box.

Molly let out a sharp yelp.

“He can’t do very much, Molly. He’s slow and doesn’t have wings or legs, so he can’t go far.”

The snake flexed its body, obviously enjoying the longed-for freedom. It raised its head, and two tiny fangs slid out of its mouth.

“Is he poisonous, Stephen?”

Stephen shrugged.

The snake inched its way toward Molly.

“Stick him back on the box, Stephen.”

He reached for the back end of the snake.

“Don’t let him bite you,” she warned.

“He won’t bite me, Molly.” Stephen lifted the snake and slipped him back inside the box before closing the lid.

“Why didn’t you attach it to the box?”

“He can’t get out. He’s the weakest of the uglies. He’ll complain, but that’s all.”

Molly heard the faint sound of a snake hiss.

“Pick up the box, Molly, and put it back on the table. We should go upstairs before Dad comes home.”

Molly visualized the snake slithering around inside the box, and her fingers tingled with the thought of how the box had last felt while in her hands.

“Maybe we can just—”

“Momma always said that equipment must always be stored in its proper place, Molly. Don’t make Momma mad.”

Goose bumps broke out on Molly’s flesh before she could remind Stephen that Momma didn’t live here now. But did Stephen’s mother still prowl the house?

Molly’s fingers touched only the edges of the box when she returned it to the table. She turned to see a small face, half-shadow, half-frightened little boy, standing behind her. She bent to blow out the candle he still held in his hand. He let out a big sigh and placed the candle on the table.

“Momma doesn’t want us down here.”

“You mean she doesn’t want me down here.”

“Why don’t Dad and Momma like you? I do.” Stephen’s quizzical expression melted Molly’s heart.

“He’s free. He’s free, I tell you. I saw him fall to the floor but a few feet from the harlot.”

“Then why isn’t she dead?” a deep voice asked. “It’s the child. He protected her. Stupid child. Weak child.”

“What can we do if he won’t free us?” asked a whiny voice
.

“She promises us that he will come round, but he doesn’t trust us. I sense it in the way he won’t touch the box. He never touches the box.”

“Too big a temptation we are for him.”

“No! No!” screeched a bird. “He’s merely a stupid child. A pathetic progeny that will fail his mother. When will she learn? When will she destroy him herself and give us a new master?”

“Hush!”

Every demon held his breath and listened
.

The furnace kicked on. A spider softly wove its web. A termite burrowed its way out of the wood into the midst of a moonbeam and immediately flipped itself over and rushed back into the wood. Otherwise nothing stirred
.

“Don’t let her hear us arguing, or she will banish us back to hell.”

“I don’t want to go back to hell,” said the dwarf. “I haven’t done anything wrong. I’ve been waiting like she told us.”

“Waiting. Waiting. An eternity of waiting will not do.” The big beaked bird tried to spread his wings but couldn’t
.

“At least we are out here and not inside the box.” said a miniature satyr
.

The other demons turned to him with looks of curiosity
.

“I saw the little one put the black snake inside the box. Yes. He locked him away.”

“If more of us were inside the box we could push the lid and climb out,” said a hopeful demon
.

“Will he grow?” said a demon pulling on his beard
.

“Who? The boy?”

“No, no. The black snake. Can he grow fatter and longer now that he’s not attached to the box?”

The demons looked at each other, not knowing the answer to the question. They wished they could communicate with the black snake
.

“I already miss the snake,” said the dwarf
.

“How could you? You hated each other.” A malformed bird twisted his head around to face the dwarf
.

“He misses someone to argue with,” another demon said
.

The dwarf threw his ax from one hand to the other
.

“We could sally forth and free him.”

“Master dwarf, you are not in a fable. This is the real world. We are limited by the woman’s power. If she grants us the right than we will … oh, such a crude, archaic word … sally forth. Until then we are glued to this box and the black snake, although free, wanders in circles inside the box.”

“Snake! Snake! Can you hear me!”

“Incorrigible dwarf, your yelling isn’t going to achieve our own freedom and I’m sure the snake can’t assist us even if he hears you.”

“But if you listen quietly you can hear the drag of his body against the wood. If I can hear that why couldn’t he hear my voice?”

“And what would you have him do? Lift the lid, slip out, light a candle, and drop a bit of wax on you? And remember he must feel the hunger now. Once free our bodies need nourishment. Need blood and flesh. He may dry up and shrivel for all we know. The spirit animating his clay body may once again find itself homeless.”

“Horrible fate,” whispers a demon
.

Inside the box the black snake tumbles back to the floor of the box after crawling up to the lid. He shakes his entire body to right himself. The darkness is consoling but the freedom is futile without a way to touch the earthly world
.

It hears the dwarf call from far away. Far away is merely the other side of a wooden wall, but the dwarf’s voice is muted by the differences in their status, for the snake truly is of the boy’s world now
.

Foolish boy, thinks the snake, remembering the rough feel of the boy’s fingers lifting his tail. A tail without a rattler, but, hey, the fangs made the girl cringe. The snake takes comfort in playing the girl’s frightened face over and over again
.

In a former body he had teased and provoked royalty into bringing about the death of … little dwarfs. As difficult as it was the snake managed a smile. Hundreds of thousands of dwarfs were tortured, burned, and hanged. And one dwarf in particular had a fitting end
.

Stephen sat in the darkness of his room surrounded by his ritual utensils, holding his mother’s earrings tightly in his fisted hands.

“I’m sorry, Momma. I know you want me to make peace with the uglies, but they aren’t nice. And Dad doesn’t want me in the basement. And I couldn’t stand to bring the uglies up here to my room. I wouldn’t be able to sleep thinking of them running around.

“Molly thinks I should throw the box in the fire, but I don’t think you’d like that. If she goes back into the basement what will I do? I don’t want a new babysitter, and Dad will send Molly away if I tell him she went down into the basement. All of this confuses me. I wish you were here.”

“Don’t wish, Stephen. Make it happen. Use the power inside your little body to bring me back. I will care for the ‘uglies’. But you must bring me back soon, or they will tire of waiting and will take revenge on you instead of the others.”

Stephen covered his ears with his fists. He thought he heard words spoken in a familiar voice, but they were far away.

“Momma, come back to me. Help me, Momma.” Tears drifted down his cheeks, and he used his fists to wipe them away. Some of the teardrops touched the pearls of the earrings, making the pearls cry their own salty tears.

His blurred vision caught a shadow moving. A shadow with outstretched arms and hands whiter than ivory.

“Momma?”

The shadow passed into the darkened end of the room and waited in silence.

“Is that you, Momma?”

The pearls dropped from his hands, and the room became frigid, the chill filling it with loneliness. He fumbled through the bedclothes trying to find the pearls, tossing many of the ritual utensils aside. He must find the pearls, he thought. The power to reach his mother lay in the pearls.

Finally Stephen reached over and turned on his bedroom lamp. He got out of bed and shook out the blanket, wrapping himself in the chaos of the wool.

His tears stopped and were replaced by frustration and anger. How could he have been so stupid as to lose the pearls? The very pearls he had bought for his mother. He tripped on the blanket and fell, but to his happiness there under the bed lay the pearls, leaning upon each other. He reached under the bed and clasped the pearls inside his right hand.

Quickly he shifted one of the pearls into his left hand and shut his eyes tightly, visualizing his mother. Not as he had last seen her, but as he remembered while she was still alive.

Someone touched his hands and folded them together as if in an act of prayer. He didn’t dare open his eyes.