The Garden of Darkness

“Whoever. She doesn’t seem too upset about Clare, even though she thinks that Clare’s a body now. I mean a dead one.”


“I don’t think Master’s with them,” said Sarai. “He’s probably hiding.”

“Why would he hide?” asked Dante. “I don’t understand.”

“Because we’re scary,” said Bird Boy. “And we’re not afraid of him.”

Clare looked at the bunch of them. Bird Boy had sewn more feathers into his clothes, or what was left of his clothes. Mirri wore rabbit fur attached to the back of her shirt like a small cape, and she had her plastic wand at the ready, as did Tilda. Sarai was resplendent in a sequined T-shirt that spelled out ‘DANGEROUS.’ Her jeans were rolled at the bottom to reveal a flannel unicorn-print lining. Abel looked as if he were dressed in the colorful rags of a deeply disturbed person. And she loved them. And she loved Jem with all her heart. It was odd to think that there was a time when that fact wasn’t obvious to her. Poor shallow Clare. She was gone now, forever.

They were gradually dismantling the mound that blocked the doorway.

“If we tell them we have the cure,” said Sarai, “maybe they’ll help us out.”

“You have to pretend you don’t know the cure,” said Ramah. “All of you. Leave it to Clare and Jem and me.”

They pulled more things from the pile only finally to face a wall of cedar chests and old steamer trunks. Abel sighed. “His children have been busy,” he said.

“We have to find him and stop him,” said Jem. “He has a taste for killing.”

“We could bonk him on the head,” said Bird Boy cheerfully.

“You can’t even bonk a trout on the head,” said Sarai.

Then they heard Britta’s voice again. “We’ll clear the door and let you through one by one,” she said. “But we want the body first.”

They ignored her. Jem and Bird Boy hauled a chest down; a mattress behind it collapsed onto them.

“We should explore the other rooms,” said Ramah. “There may be all kinds of exits that don’t involve coming face-to-face with that awful Britta.”

“I don’t understand,” said Dante. “You all don’t seem panicked at all, but we’re trapped in here. There may be no way out. Master may just let us die down here. This could be it. This could be the end.”

They all stared at Dante.

“I’m not sure what you mean by ‘it,’” said Ramah. “Or what this could be the end of.”

“Right now, we’re just locked in,” said Abel. “That’s not very scary. Even for me.”

Mirri walked over and put her hand on Dante’s arm. “We’ve been through a lot. Being locked in is the least of it. Trust us. Fresh air soon.”

Fresh air.

“The doll room,” said Clare. “I could feel the air moving in there—it had to be coming from somewhere.”

They took three of the hurricane lanterns and hurried down the hall. Jem held Clare’s free hand. With the strength of the lights, the scene in the doll room was even more disturbing. One shelf was nothing but a row of heads;, the hair very crudely chopped away from the faces. Mirri lifted her lantern and they saw, in the corner, a sparkling pile of blue. The eyes themselves.

“This is just evil,” said Mirri.

Clare took the lead with Jem right behind her. She slipped behind the bookcase of dolls and found herself next to the foundation of the building. Just above her head was a window. The bottom of the window was flush against the grass at the edge of the courtyard. Air was seeping through a gap between the top of the window and the casing. But the window, like the doors, was locked, and the lock seemed to have been painted over. Jem couldn’t prize it open.

“Ramah?” he asked. “Do your skills reach to jammed locks?”

Ramah moved over to him and examined the window. Then she pulled down one of the frail-looking curtains, wrapped it around her hand and smashed in the glass.

“There,” she said.

They used a tapestry to cover the glass so that they could crawl out without cutting themselves. Jem gave Clare a leg up, and she was through. One by one, with Jem pushing from below, Clare hauled the little ones up and out. Lastly, she gave Jem her hand, and a moment later, he was out. They emerged into the courtyard, into the twilight.

It looked nothing like Clare remembered it. Now, in the evening light, everything looked washed out, the flowers unnatural in their regular rows. In the meadow beyond the walls, Clare could see sheep, and even they looked flat, as if they were pasted onto the grass.

All the false flashy beauty of the place had fallen away.

Bear pushed up under Clare’s hand, and she stroked his head.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Mirri.

“What about Master’s children?” asked Dante. “The older ones are on the cusp of Pest.”

“I don’t feel any great love for Britta or her little followers right now,” said Jem.

“But I don’t suppose we can just leave them to grow into Pest.” Clare sighed.

Jem put his arm around Clare’s waist.