The Ghost Road by Charis Cotter

Author:Charis Cotter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tundra
Published: 2018-09-03T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

THE SPIDER

I knocked at the witch’s door. I could feel Ruby’s eyes boring into me. She was high on the hill behind Buckle, watching me through an old pair of binoculars we found on the bookshelf in the living room.

I told her she didn’t need to, but she had insisted.

“What if she pushes you into the oven?” she said. “Or locks you into a cage to fatten you up?” She grinned at me.

“Come off it, Ruby,” I said. I knew she was just kidding around, but it wasn’t helping my nerves.

“I’ll just stay up on the hill till you come out. And if you’re not out in about an hour, I’ll come and knock on the door. Will you need that long?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“If she turns you into a toad, I’ll take care of you,” said Ruby. “I’ll keep you in a little box and feed you flies—”

I gave her a push and she nearly fell over, laughing.

“Okay,” said Ruby. “You’re on your own. But I’ll be watching the door every minute. If you get really scared, just get out of there. Or scream or something.”

“I’ll be okay,” I said, but it was hard to watch her walk away. She turned and waved, a big grin on her face. I waved back, then walked along the road to the witch’s house.

The knock seemed to echo through the old house. Nothing happened. There were no footsteps, no sounds behind the door. I knocked again.

It was chilly on the doorstep. It wasn’t really raining, but there were teeny tiny drops of water in the air, like rain only finer. I lifted my hand to knock again, but before I made contact with the door, it swung open.

I peered inside. “Mrs. Peddle?” I called uncertainly. I couldn’t see anything.

She glided out from the shadows behind the door. Dressed as before, in a long, faded black dress, her hair up in a bun, her eyes sharp and dark. A sweet, delicious smell of baking wafted out from behind her.

She smiled at me. A twisted, mean little smile.

“Well, well,” she said in her creaky, high voice. “Look what the wind blew in.” She looked past me into the street.

“No shadow today?” she said. “Where’s the other one?”

“She…uh…she’s at h-home,” I stuttered.

“Ha!” laughed the witch. “You’re not as good a liar as your sister,” and then stood back to let me in.

As I walked into the gloom, it hit me like a smack to the back of my head. The witch had called Ruby my sister, not my cousin. She knew.

I walked down the hall into the dim kitchen, the witch gliding silently behind me. On the table, cooling on a wire rack, was a freshly baked batch of crisp oatmeal cookies. Mrs. Peddle motioned to a chair, watching me like a cat at a mouse hole. A tall glass of milk sat on the table beside an empty plate.

“You knew I was coming,” I said.

She cackled. Really cackled. There is no other way to describe the creaky laughter that bubbled out of her.

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