The Dark Secret of Weatherend by John Bellairs

Author:John Bellairs [Bellairs, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: montag f451 needs edit

"Lucky I brought some gloves," said Miss Eells in a tight, strained voice. She unzipped a side pocket of her jacket and pulled out two dirt-caked gardening gloves. She put them on and grimly stepped forward again. Anthony hadn't brought any gloves—he'd have to do his investigating without touching the stones.

Slowly Anthony's eyes traveled up and down the surface of one of the stone pillars. A gaping skull mask glared down at him, and he flinched as his eyes met this cold, inhuman stare. He shuffled to one side and went on examining the stone. Ah! There it was! A round spot about the size of a penny. Clever old Emerson Eells was right again!

"I found one, Miss Eells!" Anthony called, pointing triumphantly.

Miss Eells smiled and nodded. "Great! Mark the place with chalk and keep hunting. I haven't found any yet, but they may be cleverly—Hah! There's mine! Okay, we're really doing great!" Excitedly she fumbled in another pocket and came up with a squarish lump of white chalk. She marked the plugged hole with a small X and moved on to the next stone.

It took Anthony and Miss Eells only about twenty minutes to locate all four holes. But by the time they were finished they felt as if they had been in this evil, airless place for hours. Anthony found that he was beginning to imagine things... at least he hoped that he was imagining them. He kept thinking that the carvings on the stones were moving. When he looked one way, he would see—out of the corner of his eye—something shifting, just a bit, on one of the other pillars. And more than ever now he found that he was having trouble breathing. It was getting harder and harder to fight down the panic. He wanted to leave; he wanted to leave now.

"Come on, Miss Eells!" said Anthony, grabbing his friend by the arm. "We've marked all the holes, so let's just..." Anthony's voice trailed away. He saw, to his horror, that Miss Eells was just standing there with a glazed look on her face and her arms hanging limp at her sides.

Anthony hesitated a moment. Then he seized her by the shoulder and shook her violently. "Hey, Miss Eells! What's the matter? Are you okay? Please say something!"

"Wha... wha..." muttered Miss Eells thickly. "Who are... uh, I mean..." And with that she came to with a jolt. She looked about wildly—at the four grim dark stones, at the circle of shadowy trees, and at Anthony.

"What... what was I doing?" she asked in a wondering, scared voice. "No, don't tell me—I don't want to know. You're right. We've got to get out. Are you ready?"

Anthony nodded. He picked up the hockey stick and handed it to Miss Eells. Then the two of them plunged back into the cedar boughs. It was even harder going out than coming in, but somehow they made it. They reeled into the open, and after several nervous backward glances they headed toward the tennis court.

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