100 Cupboards (20 page)

“I think that's fine,” Zeke called. “Doesn't look like there's a back.” She turned and ran out of the room and down the stairs with her armload. She entered Grandfather's room as Zeke was fishing the witch's head into the cupboard. No one looked at her. Anastasia stood beside the body, gripping the witch's knife.

“What are you doing, Anastasia?” Penelope asked.

Anastasia smiled. “I'm just watching, in case she wakes up.”

“You shouldn't keep that knife,” Penelope said.

“Why not?”

“Because it's probably wicked or something.”

Anastasia thought for a moment. “Maybe it was good first, and she stole it, and now it's good again.”

“But you don't know that,” Penelope said.

“You don't know it isn't,” said Anastasia.

“Could you push on her legs?” Zeke asked. Penelope bent down and grabbed the witch's leg. Then she shivered.

“She's freezing cold,” she said.

“I know,” Zeke answered. “I think she might die anyway. Unless she's always this cold. You push, too, Anastasia.”

“But I'm making sure,” Anastasia said.

Penelope glared at her. “Just put the knife down and push.”

Anastasia did not want to, but she did. She set the knife on one of the bookshelves while she thought the others weren't looking, then stooped to push the cold body.

They had her through to the hips, so Zeke let go of her waist, moved behind the girls, and grabbed her ankles.

“This is the weirdest thing I've ever done,” he said. “Weirdest I've ever seen.” He braced himself and drove the witch through like a wheelbarrow. Both girls fell over, and Zeke landed on his knees. Then he moved his grip to the bottoms of her feet, and, puffing hard, pushed them in as well. When he was done, he stood, picked the knife up off the shelf, and threw it in the cupboard.

“Hey!” Anastasia said.

In the distance, they heard sirens.

“She's all in, Henrietta.” Zeke turned to face her. “Is there anything we can do to keep her from just coming back through? What are you holding?”

Henrietta left and ran back up to the cupboards. She stood for a moment, facing the locks, trying to remember where they had been set before. She did not want to lose that place. She reset the compass locks and hurried back down the stairs to Grandfather's room.

Anastasia was frowning. Penelope was on the floor, running her hand through her father's hair.

“Well, she's gone,” Zeke said. “Who knows where.”

The sirens were getting louder.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The
doctors at the small regional hospital were kept busy. Two ambulances brought in four patients for treatment, all from the same house. Francis H. Willis was treated for a stab wound in his side, severe concussion, and a partially collapsed lung. Dorothy S. Willis was treated for blood poisoning. Henry P. York was treated for burns to the jaw, slight skull fracture, and resulting concussion. Richard Hutchins was treated for a compound wrist fracture.

Penelope, Henrietta, and Anastasia Willis were all questioned individually, as was Ezekiel Johnson. They all told the same story, and the deputy who interviewed them retold it himself in the following weeks. It was always appreciated.

Frank Willis slipped at the top of the stairs while carrying a knife and took a visiting English cousin with him. He stabbed himself, but luckily he only broke the boy's arm. Everybody in the house ran to the commotion, including Dotty, who'd been frying bacon. She took the skillet with her, and when she saw the knife in old Frank's side, she fainted straight off. Henry, another cousin, tried to catch her but only took grease to the face and a doorknob to the back of the head for his trouble. Still, it was a good thing for Dotty that she did faint, or they might not have caught the blood poisoning.

 

Frank was the last to be released from the regional hospital. Dotty picked him up in the truck and drove him slowly through the field roads toward Henry, Kansas. They entered the city limits as quietly as the truck would allow and rolled past the burnt-out bus station and the old baseball field on their way to the tall house on the edge of town.

That night, wind brought in black clouds, and the rain came down sideways. Zeke came to dinner wet—Penelope had told him everything—and the family sat down around three loaves of meat. At the end of the meal, Dotty arched her eyebrows at Frank. He nodded and set down his fork.

“Well,” he said, looking around the table. “This is the official meeting. We've all been through an adventure now, and here's where it ends. No more looking in cupboards. No more going through cupboards.”

“But I never got to go through one,” Anastasia said. “Not even once.”

Frank smiled. “I know. And that's the way it's gonna stay.” He looked at Penelope. “Penny, you get your own room now. Your mother and I are moving into Grandfather's room.”

The kids all looked down at their plates, and Dotty blushed. “Frank,” she said, “no one seems able to remember how, but during all the ruckus, the door shut again.”

“Grandfather's door?” Frank asked. “Locked?”

Dotty smiled. “Yeah.”

“Henrietta's got the key,” Henry said. He sat up straight and looked at her.

“I did,” Henrietta said. “But that was a long time ago. Has anyone seen it?”

Anastasia leaned over the table. “And she's keeping a baby rhino in the barn.”

Henrietta sighed. Everyone was looking at her. “It's not a rhino. It looks a little like one, but it's way smaller.”

“And it has wings,” Anastasia said. “I followed her out there yesterday. She's feeding it cat food.”

Zeke looked at Henrietta. “Is that what you were carrying?”

She nodded.

“Well,” Frank said, “we're all here. Go get the rhino.”

Henrietta came back into the dining room dripping with rain. Her arms were wrapped around something fat and gray with black, beady little eyes. She set it on the table and sat down.

It stood up on all fours, shook out gray feathered wings, and looked around the table. It was shaped almost exactly like a rhinoceros, only it was eighteen inches long and winged. It had one short, blunt horn, split and cracked at the end. Its belly hung almost to the ground, like a basset hound's.

“I haven't named him yet,” Henrietta said. “And I can't get him to fly.”

“I hope you don't think you're keeping it,” Dotty said.

Frank was leaning forward, trying to look the thing in the eyes. He was smiling. “You aren't lookin' for me, are you?” he asked it.

“What is it?” Zeke asked.

Frank sat back up. “It's a raggant.”

Dotty looked at him. “What?”

“A raggant. I've only ever seen two before. In some places, places I used to be, they're sent to find people. They can only be used once. When they've found someone, they stay till they die.” He looked up at Henrietta. “Where did you get him?”

“He was in the cupboard with the compass locks. He'd been banging on the inside and broke his horn. He was almost dead and could barely move when I got him out.”

Henry laughed and leaned forward. “You cracked my plaster, didn't you? You started the whole thing.”

The raggant looked in Henry's eyes and snorted. He stepped toward him, lifted one of his front legs, and leaned, pointing, until his horn almost touched Henry's face.

“Ha!” Frank said. “It's Henry's!”

“What?” Henrietta said. “He's mine. I found him and fed him and took care of him!”

“We are not keeping it!” Dotty said.

Frank grinned. “Henry is.”

The raggant turned and backed toward Henry, sat upright in front of him, tucked his wings back, and stared into space.

“Someone is lookin' for you, Henry,” Frank said.

Henry felt nervousness bubble up inside him.

“Oh, don't worry,” Frank added. “Raggants have never been used for any wickedness as far as I know.”

“This isn't fair,” Henrietta said. “I've never had a pet.”

“You have Blake,” Anastasia said, and she looked under the table, where the cat slept.

“Blake?” Henrietta said. “Blake's just another cat.”

Zeke started laughing. Henrietta glared at him, but he didn't stop. She didn't say anything else.

“Frank,” Dotty said. “We're not quite done.”

“Right,” Frank said. “I'll be plastering over all the cupboards this weekend, and if I hear any late-night chipping, people are movin' into the barn. And if anyone finds the key to Grandfather's room, they'll immediately and without any sort of complaining turn it in to the Den Mother.”

“That's me,” Dotty said. In case anyone was confused.

 

When everyone had pushed back from empty plates, Dotty told the girls to clear the table. Zeke got up to help. Richard decided to watch and followed Anastasia into the kitchen. She made faces all the way. Frank stood slowly, put his hand on Henry's shoulder, and led him toward the front porch. The raggant walked proudly behind them.

The rain had stopped, but the world was still dark and wet. The wind was warm.

Frank eased himself into a rickety wicker chair and tucked a toothpick into his lip. Henry sat down on the top step and looked around for the raggant. It was perched on the porch rail with its nose toward the clouds and its wings spread in the breeze.

“Did it just fly, Uncle Frank?” Henry asked. “Did you see it?”

“Sure it did, but I didn't see anything. Raggants are proud, especially when they finish a job, so they don't like people to see them fly. Not sure why. Probably think it looks undignified.”

The strange creature was really there. Henry could have reached out and touched it, but his mind still couldn't make sense of the animal. “Why would anyone be looking for me?” he asked.

“Well,” Frank said, “because they lost you.”

Henry stared at him. Frank pulled out his toothpick and examined the end. “I told you Phil and Urs aren't your parents, Henry.”

“I thought I was adopted.”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “But, well, it wasn't a normal sort of adoption.”

Henry waited for him to continue.

Frank looked at him. “Your grandfather always said he'd found you on the porch, but he was never Mr. Truth.”

“I saw something in Grandfather's journal,” Henry said, “something about me coming through the cupboards.”

Frank leaned back in his chair.

“Do you think that could be true?” Henry asked. “Do you think I came from a different place?”

“In my experience,” Frank said slowly, “when your grandfather found things, they were usually from the attic.” Frank pointed his toothpick at the raggant. “Not many pets like that around here, for one.”

Henry looked at the animal. Its blunted nose was still up, but it had shut its eyes.

Frank cleared his throat. “Dots and I wanted you, Henry. But Phil and Urs got the adoption. I've always felt guilty about it. Wished I could have changed things.”

Henry looked at his uncle and at the clouds rolling above them. He looked at the raggant. The wind smelled like Badon Hill. “I'm not from here,” he said.

“You and me both,” Frank said. “But here's where we're from now.”

The two of them sat silently and watched the world blow. And when the wind died, and the darkness grew thick, they listened to the raggant breathe, and to the laughter from the kitchen.

 

That night, Henry lay on his bed and felt his sore head and the newborn scar tissue along his jaw. He was looking at the ninety-nine doors on his wall, and thinking about the one downstairs.

He had already made sure the bed was against the black cupboard, and he felt better having the raggant around, anyway. It was snoring by his feet.

He rolled onto his side, facing away from the wall, and reached to turn off his lamp. When he did, he blinked. A beam of yellow light stood out through his room. He sat up and looked at the mailbox. There was another envelope inside. He looked at the door for a moment, then began hunting for the key. He found it underneath his socks.

When the door was open, he pulled out the letter, then crouched and stared at the yellow room for a while, hoping for a glimpse of the pants. They never came. Finally, he shut the little door and sat up. He looked over his wall. The raggant flared a wing out in its sleep and pawed at the blankets.

“I'm from one of these,” he told the animal. “But you know that, don't you? You probably know which one.”

Henry shifted to his knees and reached for the door to Badon Hill. Frank had said no more cupboards, but he knew his uncle would understand. He pulled the door open and sat back, just to smell the air and listen to the trees.

Something fluttered out of the darkness and landed on his bed.

Henry picked it up. It was another letter, folded and sealed with the green man. Two letters now. He shut the cupboard and looked at the two of them next to each other. They looked exactly like the first ones.

“I don't want these,” he said out loud. “I'm done now.”

He opened the long one first, and his eyes struggled with the writing.

Sir,

I take up this quill to anprass the magnappreciation of our order. Your hands bear prayse for they freed the last Endorian blud. The old daughter of the second sire regains her airth
-
strength. We kendle her call.

Gratitation and fratri.

Darius,
First amung the Lastborn Magi,
Witch
-
Dog of Byzanthamum

Henry dropped the letter like it would stain his fingers and kicked it off his bed. It was still gibberish, but he understood it now. He had seen the Witch-Dogs work, or seen some spectral haunted dream of their working, and he wanted none of their gratitation. None of their anything.

He touched the green seal on the other letter, and when it popped, he unfolded the parchment. The same typed lines looked up at him.

Issuance from the Central Committee of Faeren for the Prevention of Mishap

(District R.R.K.)

Composed and Authorized by Committee Chair under Executive Guidelines

(
B.F. X.vii)

Delivered via the Island Hill of Badon Chapter

(District A.P.)

To Whom We Have Concerned:

It is the finding of the committee that Whimpering Child (hereafter: WC) has aided, abetted, and enabled the unearthing and potential reestablishment of old evil and is a danger to the faeren people, himself, and the tapestry of reality. WC shall henceforth be identified as Enemy, Hazard, and Human Mishap to all faeren in all districts, all worlds, and all ways.

Identification has been distributed and status change documented. Where and when WC is encountered, the committee has authorized, yea, demanded, that he be hampered, hindered, detained, damaged, or destroyed. Such treatment, performed by any faeren of any district, way, or world, shall be deemed just, necessary, merciful, and inevitable.

Ralph Radulf

Chair CCFPM

(District R.R.K.)

C and A by CC under EG

( per
B.F. X.vii)

Delivered via Island Hill of Badon Chapter

(District A.P.)

Henry flopped back onto his bed and stared at the poster on his ceiling. Then he kicked his wall. He hadn't asked for this. He hadn't wanted to free a witch. He'd actually had very little to do with it. Well, he had chipped all the plaster off his wall and uncovered the cupboards. There was that. But that hadn't even been his fault. He propped himself up.