know,” said Jacob.
“Your father’s right,” she said, giving Stephen a final kiss on the nose.
As she walked over the threshold she kept wanting to turn back and tell Jacob about the fears his son had and how he insisted his mother had returned. But Stephen would make a scene and Jacob would think she merely wanted to make trouble. Perhaps she could write a letter, but no, Jacob would probably toss it in the garbage.
Molly knew Stephen’s grandmother taught at the local elementary school. That might be the answer. She had only met the grandmother once, but it was worth a shot, even though the grandmother looked very schoolmarmish and might not take kindly to being told her daughter was a witch.
Molly threw the costume on the passenger seat and sat down behind the steering wheel. Jacob had worked late, and no moon lit up the night. She turned on the car’s bright lights since she didn’t expect to encounter much traffic on the way home. When she adjusted the rearview mirror she spotted Stephen at the living room window. Instinctively he must have known she saw him because he gave a weak wave to her. She stuck her hand out the open window and waved back.
There had to be a way to help Stephen. Jacob should have gotten the child therapy right after his mother’s death. Stephen had been pathologically close to his mother, and given the circumstances, any child would need some professional help.
She pulled out of the driveway and closed her side window. Driving at night made her nervous. Not only did she worry about thieves, murderers, and rapists, but her vision seemed poorer at night. The trees along the road leaned too far in over the car, their bulky stumps standing grimly on each side, daring her to lose the slightest bit of control of the steering wheel.
Quickly she lowered her brights when she saw another car rounding the bend. She wished the town would invest in street lamps. A few more stop lights would help also.
A low, steady, deep sound hummed in the background.
“Please don’t let it be the car,” she whispered to herself.
A chill in the air forced her to turn on the heater. Usually at this time of the year she wouldn’t ordinarily need to, but her hands felt almost numb. Initially more cold air blew out at her. After a block, when it didn’t get any warmer, she sped up hoping to get home sooner.
Something moved against her right thigh. Only a slight movement, but enough to attract her attention. Looking next to her she saw that the costume, mask included, had fallen to the floor.
The car went over a bump, but Molly thought she might have run over some animal, because the car filled up with a foul odor. She wrinkled her nose and tried to open the windows, but the electrical system didn’t work.
“Damn! Don’t give out on me now,” she said to the car. “We only have another few miles to go. You can make it.”
A growl sound came from under the dashboard.
The traffic light turned red, and she stepped on the brake, hoping the car wouldn’t stall. No one walked the streets. Men, women, and children were either home in bed or watching late night television.
Something flicked against her right calf; looking down she caught the movement of the tail on the costume.
“What the heck?” She peered down on the floor but could see only a furry ball of fiber. There seemed to be a sudden sheen to the cloth, and in the shadows the mask looked filled out, the snout longer, the ears perked forward; even the eye holes caught the reflection of light coming from someplace. The costume pulsed with deep breaths.
Molly recalled the episode with the black snake in the basement. Stephen’s mother hated her. As she reached for the door a full-grown wolf sprang from the floor; its hot, stale breath struck her face before the teeth sunk into her flesh.
Chapter
28
The cruel witch took away all of Brandy’s games. He had beaten her once too often in Poker. Why, she had even considered mortgaging her home,
“Your father’s right,” she said, giving Stephen a final kiss on the nose.
As she walked over the threshold she kept wanting to turn back and tell Jacob about the fears his son had and how he insisted his mother had returned. But Stephen would make a scene and Jacob would think she merely wanted to make trouble. Perhaps she could write a letter, but no, Jacob would probably toss it in the garbage.
Molly knew Stephen’s grandmother taught at the local elementary school. That might be the answer. She had only met the grandmother once, but it was worth a shot, even though the grandmother looked very schoolmarmish and might not take kindly to being told her daughter was a witch.
Molly threw the costume on the passenger seat and sat down behind the steering wheel. Jacob had worked late, and no moon lit up the night. She turned on the car’s bright lights since she didn’t expect to encounter much traffic on the way home. When she adjusted the rearview mirror she spotted Stephen at the living room window. Instinctively he must have known she saw him because he gave a weak wave to her. She stuck her hand out the open window and waved back.
There had to be a way to help Stephen. Jacob should have gotten the child therapy right after his mother’s death. Stephen had been pathologically close to his mother, and given the circumstances, any child would need some professional help.
She pulled out of the driveway and closed her side window. Driving at night made her nervous. Not only did she worry about thieves, murderers, and rapists, but her vision seemed poorer at night. The trees along the road leaned too far in over the car, their bulky stumps standing grimly on each side, daring her to lose the slightest bit of control of the steering wheel.
Quickly she lowered her brights when she saw another car rounding the bend. She wished the town would invest in street lamps. A few more stop lights would help also.
A low, steady, deep sound hummed in the background.
“Please don’t let it be the car,” she whispered to herself.
A chill in the air forced her to turn on the heater. Usually at this time of the year she wouldn’t ordinarily need to, but her hands felt almost numb. Initially more cold air blew out at her. After a block, when it didn’t get any warmer, she sped up hoping to get home sooner.
Something moved against her right thigh. Only a slight movement, but enough to attract her attention. Looking next to her she saw that the costume, mask included, had fallen to the floor.
The car went over a bump, but Molly thought she might have run over some animal, because the car filled up with a foul odor. She wrinkled her nose and tried to open the windows, but the electrical system didn’t work.
“Damn! Don’t give out on me now,” she said to the car. “We only have another few miles to go. You can make it.”
A growl sound came from under the dashboard.
The traffic light turned red, and she stepped on the brake, hoping the car wouldn’t stall. No one walked the streets. Men, women, and children were either home in bed or watching late night television.
Something flicked against her right calf; looking down she caught the movement of the tail on the costume.
“What the heck?” She peered down on the floor but could see only a furry ball of fiber. There seemed to be a sudden sheen to the cloth, and in the shadows the mask looked filled out, the snout longer, the ears perked forward; even the eye holes caught the reflection of light coming from someplace. The costume pulsed with deep breaths.
Molly recalled the episode with the black snake in the basement. Stephen’s mother hated her. As she reached for the door a full-grown wolf sprang from the floor; its hot, stale breath struck her face before the teeth sunk into her flesh.
Chapter
28
The cruel witch took away all of Brandy’s games. He had beaten her once too often in Poker. Why, she had even considered mortgaging her home,
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