Time of the Witch by Mary Downing Hahn Page A

staring, Maude emerged from the shadows on the porch and beckoned to us. "I'm so glad you've come, my dears." She crossed the clearing and seized our hands, as if she thought we might change our minds and run. "You didn't find the woods frightening, did you?" She smiled at us, her eyes hidden in shadows. "Come inside with me, my dears, come inside and sit by an old lady's fire."
    Wordlessly, we allowed Maude to lead us up her sagging steps and into a small, dark room. In the dim light cast by a fire flickering on the hearth, I saw bunches of dried herbs hanging from the rafters, a table heaped with books and papers, shelves crowded with bottles, jars, and more books. On the mantelpiece, a stuffed owl peered down at me, its glass eyes glittering in the firelight, and next to him Soot perched, twisting his head from side to side as he looked from Wanda to me and back again. "Krrrrk?" he asked. "Krrrrk?"
    The cabin was exactly as I had thought it would be, and I felt as if I'd stepped out of the real world and into a fairy tale. In the corners, the shadows thickened into inky darkness, and as Maude turned and smiled at me, her face masked with shadows, she seemed full of mystery and menace.
    "Yes, Soot, we have company tonight," Maude said. "Laura Adams is here. Shall I help her, my dear? Shall I do all I can in memory of Margaret?"
    The crow nodded its head and shifted about. Once more he turned his yellow eyes toward me and stared, unblinking, as if he could read every thought.
    Maude smiled and nodded. "Sit down, Laura Adams. And you too, Wanda." She led us to a semicircle of three chairs facing the huge stone fireplace. She chose the middle chair for herself, a tall armchair painted black and decorated with elaborate carvings of strange beasts. Wanda and I sat on either side of her, in smaller versions of the same chair.
    For a moment all was still. The fire sputtered and crackled, shooting sparks up the chimney, and a gust of wind set the pines moaning outside the cabin. The air was heavy with the musky sweet smell of incense. As the firelight played on the chairs, the carved beasts seemed to stretch and blink and peer about the room, their eyes gleaming with life. I shivered, wishing I'd taken Wanda's advice and stayed home.
    "And have you brought what I asked you to, Laura Adams?" Maude leaned toward me, her hand outstretched to receive the things I took from my pocket.
    The old woman smiled as she looked at the photograph. "How happy your parents look, how young and healthy. Were you at the ocean?"
    I nodded. "It was last year. Before Daddy left." I stared at the picture wishing my parents hadn't posed especially for the picture, wishing they really were happy together, wishing the photograph were true.
    "And this is your aunt's brush? What a fine artist she must be, what pleasure painting must give her." Putting the brush aside, Maude examined the little car. "And this must belong to Jason." She smiled at me and nodded her head. "You have done well, Laura, very
well. These things will make my job very easy. You cannot imagine how grateful I am to you for giving me this opportunity to help Margaret's beloved ones."
    Getting up from her chair, Maude bent over a cauldron hanging above the fire. She picked up a ladle and began stirring the contents of the cauldron. As sweet fumes arose from the pot, Wanda and I stood up to watch. I had trouble concentrating on what Maude was doing, but I thought I saw her pass the things I'd given her back and forth through the flames, murmuring softly to herself.
    Leaning forward, I saw the photograph slowly curl and turn black at the corners. The smiling faces shrivelled and turned old and ugly. The paint on Jason's car bubbled, the hairs on the brush burned, but before everything crumbled into ashes, Maude put the charred remains into a small box and closed the lid. She wrapped the box round and round with fine threads, still chanting and gesturing.
    The smoke from the cauldron grew