Hither & Nigh by Ellen Potter

Author:Ellen Potter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Margaret K. McElderry Books
Published: 2022-09-27T00:00:00+00:00

31 Mrs. Wiffle's Waffles

Now that my muscles were given permission to do what they had been aching to do, I took off as fast as I could. I ran toward the food cart with the same cold panic I used to feel when Chicken Bone Charlie used to chase me, the whole while wishing like mad that I had Annika’s speed.

Up ahead, one of the carriage drivers—a large man with a mustache and a cloud of black hair beneath his white top hat—stood up in his carriage and squinted in my direction. He didn’t look right at me, just in my general vicinity. It seemed as though he couldn’t see me very well, like Tiller had said. But he could see something.

A few seconds later I reached Mrs. Wiffle’s Waffles, but the food cart’s serving window was sealed with a metal shutter. I rapped on it frantically, making the shutter rattle.

“We’re closed!” I heard a voice say from inside the cart. “Come back in a half hour.”

I knocked on the shutter again, harder this time, creating a thunderous clanking.

The shutter lifted a few inches, and a pair of annoyed green eyes peered out at me.

“I said we’re closed. No waffles. Stop knocking.”

The first thing that struck me was that the person could obviously see me.

“Are you Mrs. Wiffle?” I asked.

“That’s me.”

“I’m traveling.” I repeated Tiller’s words.

The shutter opened a few inches more. Now I could see that Mrs. Wiffle wore a yellow-and-pink-striped cap and coveralls to match the cart. Her face was wide and short, like a balloon that’s been sat on.

“Anything to declare?” Her tone was all business now.

“What?”

“Are you bringing anything back with you?” Mrs. Wiffle asked impatiently.

“No.”

“Turn your pockets inside out,” Mrs. Wiffle demanded.

“Listen, I need to—”

“If you have nothing to hide, then turn your pockets inside out.”

I jammed my hands in my pockets and turned them inside out. A few coins dropped out, but that was all.

“Come closer,” she said, crooking two fingers. “Closer.”

I leaned across the truck’s narrow food counter, and Mrs. Wiffle’s fingers instantly began to rummage through my hair. I pulled away, but she grabbed a hank of my hair in her fist and held it.

“If you’re not a Smuggler, you won’t mind me having a look.”

It was clear she wasn’t going to back down, so I let her paw through my head, then stick a finger in each one of my ears until she seemed satisfied.

“Bethesda said there was a Wicket—” I started to say.

“Bethesda? Well, why didn’t you mention her before, you goose? You could have bypassed security.” She leaned across the counter and started to point toward something on her cart. But the very next moment, a hand grabbed my throat from behind. I tried to twist around, but the grip tightened, squeezing my windpipe.

“Keep still,” whispered a voice in my ear.

I stopped struggling and the grip loosened a bit, just enough for me to take quick wheezing breaths.

“Well, heyo!” the voice said cheerfully. “I’ve caught myself a Peeper!”

The hand shifted roughly on my neck, and for a moment I thought my attacker was letting go.

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