Black Creek Crossing

Chapter 42

NGEL HAD LISTENED IN SILENCE AS SETH TOLD HER what happened after she left that day and why he decided not to wait around until the last bell rang.

“But what are you going to do tomorrow?” she asked when he finished.

“I don’t know — I guess I’m hoping that by tomorrow Zack won’t be as mad as he was this morning.”

Angel rolled her eyes. “Like that’s going to happen.”

“Maybe I’ll just cut school.”

“For how long?” Angel shot back. “I mean, what are you going to do, hide in your house for the rest of your life?”

Seth couldn’t quite meet her eyes. “Didn’t you ever wish you could do that?”

Angel was silent for several long seconds, then shook her head. “Not anymore. Now I wish I never had to go back to my house. I wish I could just stay here.”

Seth glanced around the tiny cabin. With the fire burning on the hearth, the tiny chamber was almost too warm, but even with the heat, he could still feel drafts coming in from the cracks in the front wall and the gaps in the shutter over the window, and there was practically a steady breeze coming through the gap under the door. Only the light of the small fire brightened the gloom, and though most of the smoke from the fire was streaming up the chimney, enough of it curled out of the fireplace so that his eyes were burning, and he kept feeling like he had to sneeze. Yet he knew exactly what she meant. “So what are we going to do?” he asked.

Angel reached out and turned the ancient book of recipes so he could read the page to which it was opened. “I think we should make this.”

Seth bent down and peered at the page, which was barely legible in the dim light. Only when Angel tilted the book toward the fire could he make out the ornate print:

Seth read the strange verses through twice. “Have you figured out what it means?”

Angel shrugged uncertainly. “I’m not sure. I mean, I’m pretty sure the first line means we have to put in some blood from a live toad.” She shuddered at the thought, but Seth was too engrossed in studying the verse again to notice.

“I bet the ‘weeping tree’ part means a weeping willow. There’s one at the edge of the clearing, right where the trail comes out. But what are we supposed to use? The leaves? Or maybe the bark?”

“I think it has to be the sap,” Angel said. “It says ‘It also yearns for blood from thee.’ So wouldn’t that mean we need the sap from the tree? I mean, isn’t sap sort of like blood?”

“It’s exactly like blood,” Seth said. “So what does this second part mean? Aren’t we supposed to drink it straight from the kettle like we did with the other stuff?”

Angel shook her head. “I think we’re supposed to wait until the fire goes out, and then add some of our own blood to what we’re going to drink. I put my blood in mine, and you put your blood in yours.”

Seth read the verses one more time, then looked up from the book. “What do you think it does?”

“I think maybe it sort of turns things around. So whatever someone tries to do to you turns back on them.”

Seth repeated the single word printed above them. “ ‘Reckoning.’ ” He looked at Angel. “You think maybe it’s like a day of reckoning, when everything evens out?”

“What else could it be?” she asked.

“But how would it work?” Seth countered, then picked up the book. “Did you find anything else in here?”

“I made some more of the stuff that makes things rise,” Angel replied. “But I couldn’t figure out what the rest of them mean. In fact, I could hardly read most of them.”

Seth went through the pages of the book one by one. On half the pages the designs were so ornate and the words so strange that he had no more idea of what they said than Angel did, and even when he could figure out what the words were, their meanings were buried so deep in riddles that he couldn’t begin to fathom them. Finally he went back to the recipe for “Reckoning.” At least it seemed relatively straightforward. “Okay. Let’s try it.”

He put his coat back on as Angel pulled a plastic poncho out of her backpack, and together they went out into the storm. Houdini, abandoning his place by the hearth, followed them, and by the time they’d picked their way up the slag heap, he was darting across the clearing toward the willow tree, making a zigzag course that made no sense until they caught up with him in the shelter of the huge tree’s canopy.

Held firmly in the cat’s jaws, but kicking wildly enough to give testament to the fact that it was still very much alive, was a large toad.

As Angel stared at the squirming creature, Seth reached up, grasped a branch of the tree, and tried to snap it. Though the core of the branch broke, the softer bark only split and tore, but the branch still held to the tree. Seth worked it back and forth, but the tough bark refused to give way.

“Where’s your knife?” Angel asked.

“In my backpack,” Seth replied as he twisted the branch. As the bark twisted tighter, sap began to ooze out of it, and Angel reached out and caught a gob of it on her finger. “Maybe this is enough,” she said as a flash of lightning briefly lit the sky, and another thunderclap echoed off the face of the cliff.

“I guess it has to be,” Seth sighed, letting go of the branch. “I should have brought my knife.”

They ran back to the cabin, ducking their heads against the rain.

Even before she took off the poncho, Angel scraped the sap from her finger into the boiling kettle. Seth retrieved the knife from his backpack, squatted down and took the toad from Houdini, who released it the moment Seth had it in his grasp.

“D-Do you really have to hurt it?” Angel asked as he carefully opened a tiny slit in the skin of one of the toad’s large hind legs.

“I barely cut it,” Seth replied, holding the toad over the kettle and squeezing the leg until a few drops of blood fell into the roiling liquid. A moment later he released the toad out the front door and watched as it hopped toward the pile of rocks and disappeared. “I don’t think he even felt it,” he told Angel as he closed the door.

As the fire burned and the cauldron boiled, the storm outside raged on…

As the sun began to set, the fire finally died away. The bubbling in the black kettle settled down to a slow simmer as the storm outside spent the last of its rage; the flashes of lightning weakened, the thunder lost its strength. The light seeping through the cracks in the wall and door brightened. When water stopped pouring into the granite sink, the last rumble of thunder had died away, and the fire beneath the kettle had shrunk to a pile of glowing embers, Seth opened the window.

The air, washed clean by the storm, smelled sweet. As Seth gazed upward, the last remnants of the clouds evaporated into nothing. But for the freshness of the air and the dripping of the still soggy trees, the storm seemed to have left no trace at all, for even the wind that had driven the rain into a slashing torrent had died so completely that Seth felt no breeze against his cheek. He pushed the window shutter wide and opened the door as well. The fresh air left by the storm flushed out the acrid fumes left by the fire as the last rays of the setting sun washed away some of the gloom in the tiny cabin chamber.

Seth came back to the table and watched Angel ladle the contents of the kettle into a small jar. Meanwhile, Houdini twined himself first through Angel’s legs and then through Seth’s, and finally stretched out in the small patch of sunlight that found its way through the doorway.

“Now what?” Seth asked as Angel set the jar on the table.

“One of us adds our own blood to the jar and drinks it. Then we wash the jar out, and the other one does it.”

Saying nothing more, Seth picked up the knife, cut his finger, and squeezed a few drops of blood into the clear liquid in the jar. It vanished in an instant, leaving not even a hint of pink to betray its presence. Waiting only until the fluid was cool enough so it wouldn’t scald his mouth, he lifted the jar to his lips and swallowed the contents.

He rinsed the jar at the sink and Angel refilled it. Repeating the same ritual Seth had just performed, but using her own blood instead of his, she too drained the contents of the jar.

A moment later she picked up a second jar from the counter and handed it to Seth. “It’s the other one,” she said. “The one that lets you lift things. At least you can stop Zack from coming after you for a while.”

Silently, Seth tipped the second jar up, draining it even faster than he had the first.

A few minutes later, leaving no sign that they’d been there at all, Angel and Seth followed Houdini out the door of the cabin, pulled the door closed, and scrambled to the top of the berm of shattered granite. Climbing down the other side, they crossed the clearing and disappeared into the forest. Even though it was almost completely dark now, they had no trouble following Houdini as he led them back toward Black Creek Road.

“Maybe we should go to the drugstore and get a Coke or something,” Seth suggested. They were in front of the Sullivans’ house, and both of them could see her father framed in the window, staring out at the darkness of the evening.

Angel shook her head. “I better not. He can’t see us, but if I’m any later, he’ll just be even madder when I get back.”

“I guess,” Seth agreed, and Angel could hear the disappointment in his voice. “I guess I’d better be going.” Despite his effort to cover it, Angel could hear the fear in Seth’s voice, just as she had when he’d asked her to go to the drugstore for a Coke the last time.

“Are you going to be okay?” she asked.

He cocked his head and managed a small grin. “Well, I was okay last night, so I guess I should be able to make it home, shouldn’t I?”

“Zack probably won’t try anything,” she said.

“Maybe,” Seth replied, but his expression told her that he was worried about it. “So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” he finally said. Still, he lingered another few seconds before turning and starting to walk away.

Houdini, who had been sitting patiently while they talked, stood up, looked up at Angel, then started after Seth. The cat took a few paces, paused, and turned to gaze at Angel, and for a moment seemed uncertain. But then, turning away from her, Houdini hurried after Seth, catching up to him before he was fifty yards down the road.

“Hey,” Seth said, bending down to scratch the cat’s ears. “What are you doing?” He straightened up and looked back at Angel, but before he could send the cat back, she waved and turned toward her house. “You sure you want to come with me?” Seth asked, squatting down. Houdini promptly rolled over to have his stomach scratched. “Okay,” Seth sighed as he complied. “I’m not going to try to tell you what to do.”

Twenty minutes later he was only a block from his house, and so far had seen no sign of Chad, Zack, or Jared. Instead of going up Court Street as he usually did — where Zack had caught him yesterday — this time he went around to the other side of the park and walked up Church Street, staying across the street from the park, just in case. Coming to Elm Street, he didn’t make the turn toward his house, but went halfway up the next block. Now all he had to do was cut down the alley and come into his house through the back door.

He paused at the mouth of the alley, and as he peered down the long, shadowy row of garages — behind any one of which Zack, Chad, Jared, or anyone else could be hiding — he wondered if it wouldn’t be better to go back down to Elm Street and use the front door. Even if Chad and Jared were around, they’d be at the other end of the street anyway.

But if they saw him…

Better to use the alley, he decided.

With Houdini darting ahead of him, Seth started down the narrow graveled lane, leaving the faint yellowish glow of the streetlights behind.

As the darkness gathered around him, he thought he saw a faint movement off to the right, but when he turned to look, there was nothing.

Nothing but a gate that was slightly ajar.

Was that what he’d seen?

Had it moved?

Or had someone come through it? Someone who was now hiding in the shadows of the garage, which were even darker than the night?

Hunching his shoulders against the darkness — and whatever it might conceal — he hurried his step.

He was halfway to his own garage when Houdini suddenly froze.

As the cat’s back arched and it stared straight ahead, Seth felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and knew then that someone was behind him.

He’d walked into a trap.

Spinning around, he found himself staring at a dark figure silhouetted against the glow of the streetlight at the end of the alley. For a moment both Seth and the dark figure froze, and then the figure raised one if its arms. Now Seth could see the broken beer bottle clutched in the hand at the end of the uplifted arm, and as the figure raised it even higher, so that one of its jagged points was aimed directly at him, it caught the light from behind. As if mesmerized by the glittering object, Seth’s mind went blank, and a cold sheen of sweat broke out over his body.

Behind him, he heard a low hiss from Houdini, then a voice.

Jared Woods’s voice!

“Jeez! It’s that cat!”

The silhouetted figure moved closer, and now the razor-sharp blade of broken glass was just a few inches from Seth’s face. He could almost feel the glass tearing into his flesh, laying his face and neck open, slashing at his arteries—

From behind Seth came a muted scream, just loud enough to break the strange spell the broken glass had cast on Seth. He whirled around to see the barely visible figure of Jared Woods clutching at his face.

Houdini! The cat must have leaped at Jared and—

The thought was cut off by another scream, and once again Seth whirled.

What he saw made him stagger back a pace. The figure holding the broken bottle — who Seth was now sure had to be Chad Jackson — was standing stock-still. The broken bottle was still clutched in his right hand, but even in the dim light coming from the streetlight at the end of the alley, Seth was certain he could see something dripping from it.

Blood.

What had happened?

Had Chad slashed himself? He remembered, then, the last lines of the verse whose instructions he and Angel had followed only an hour earlier: … the payn will turn from thee and fall upon thine enemie.

As Seth stood frozen and gaping, Chad moved again, and then was hurling himself toward Seth, the broken bottle raised high. Even in the darkness he could see an insane light glowing in Chad’s eyes, and he knew what was about to happen.

Chad was going to kill him.

Seth’s reflexes instinctively took over, and his mind conjured a single image.

An image of Chad’s attack turning back on him, just as the verse had said.

At almost the same moment, Chad lurched backward, as if an unseen force had pulled him from behind, and then he was writhing on the ground as he tried to escape the weapon that was wielded by his own hand. Out of the corner of his eye Seth saw Jared Woods, staring in stupefaction at the struggling figure thrashing in the alley, then turning to stagger away into the darkness.

A moment later, just as the lethal point of the bottle was about to rip into Chad’s neck, Seth let go of the vision he’d conjured in his imagination.

And as the image of Chad slashing at his own neck vanished, Chad dropped the broken bottle. Then he lurched to his feet and stumbled after Jared.

As they disappeared into the darkness at the far end of the alley, Seth turned back to the gate to his own backyard, but paused to look for Houdini.

The cat had disappeared.

With the image of Chad struggling in the darkness to avoid the ravages of his own weapon still etched in his memory, Seth pushed through the gate, slipped into his house, and went up the back stairs to his room. He closed the door, dropped his backpack on his bed, then looked at himself in the mirror.

On the outside, he looked exactly as he had this morning when he went to school.

But on the inside, he knew something had changed.

He could have made Chad Jackson kill himself just now, could have made him use the broken bottle to slash his own throat.

Instead, he’d let Chad go.

But now, in a small dark corner of his mind, all the things Chad had done to him over the years rose up out of his memory, all the humiliations and all the beatings, and he found himself wishing that he hadn’t let Chad go.

He wished, instead, that he’d finished what Chad had begun.

In his mind Seth Baker began to visualize what he could have done, and as the images of Chad destroying himself grew clearer, Seth felt a strange power growing inside him.

Maybe, after all, it wasn’t too late.

Maybe he could still have a day of reckoning with Chad.

Focusing his mind, he once more turned his enemy upon himself…