“It means that Eloise wants to leave,” said Agatha. “And if she does, there will be a space to fill.”
We are chosen, Eloise had warned. We don’t choose.
“And if I don’t want to fill it?”
Agatha gave her a wide, beautiful smile. But she offered only a shrug and a light shake of the head. “Too soon to tell.”
“What if I can’t help?” Finley said. “I mean, I didn’t get anything out of that vision. I don’t know any more than I did before. Well, not much.”
“Are you quite sure about that?”
Finley had to admit that she wasn’t totally sure about anything really.
She sat on the hearth and buried her eyes in her hands. The tattoo on her back burned; it was really uncomfortable, beyond normal levels. Maybe it was getting infected. That happened sometimes. In the dark of her palms, she saw the girl being dragged up the path.
“I was certain that they went north, deeper into the woods,” Finley said. “But Jones Cooper says that the whole area was searched, and nothing was found.”
“They’re wrong so often,” Agatha said indulgently, as if she were talking about children at play. “That’s why they need us. Don’t let anyone talk you out of what you have seen. Don’t let other people make you doubt yourself, even those who are good and well meaning. They simply don’t see what we see.”
Finley blew out a breath.
“So what do I do?” Finley said.
“Sleep on it,” said Agatha. “You’ll know what to do when it’s time.”
“That’s it?” said Finley.
Agatha chuckled a little. “Did you think I was going to hand you a rule book? The good news and the bad news is that no one knows better than you how to find your way with your abilities.”
She’d said this before, and it never failed to remind her of Glinda, the Good Witch and Dorothy. You always had the power, or whatever it was Glinda had said. Finley was always so annoyed by that. If Glinda could have spared Dorothy from the beginning, why didn’t she? All she had to do was tell her that those slippers were magic and that she could go home. But she didn’t. Nobody can give you the power over your destiny, her mom had tried to explain. You have to claim it, sometimes through trial. Otherwise you never know it’s yours.
To Finley, it just sounded like a crock, something grown-ups said to cover up their own failings.
“You’re more powerful than you know,” said Agatha.
Finley looked over at Agatha, who was pouring them each some tea from a set Finley hadn’t even noticed, looking peaceful and unconcerned. She was embarrassed by how much faith Agatha and Eloise had in her. They thought she was some kind of prodigy, and they were clearly wrong. As Finley rose to help Agatha (the teapot was shaking in the old woman’s hand), she wondered which of the three of them was going to be the most disappointed when they figured out that Finley’s abilities were middling at best.
THIRTEEN
Penny had promised herself that tonight was going to be the night. But now that it was time, the woods were whispering, solemn with warning. Don’t go. Not yet. She heard it and she didn’t hear it.
After the house went dark, she’d lain in bed, wide awake, vibrating. Waiting for the right time. She couldn’t stay here. Whatever was out there, even if the woods were alive with ghosts and monsters, witches and ghouls, screaming and wailing and chasing—it couldn’t be worse. Could it?
Don’t go. Not yet.
Her daddy had told her that if she ever got lost in the woods, to find a river and follow it downstream. At least she thought that was what he said. He was always talking about things like that: what to do if.
If we get separated on the subway, get off at the next stop and find the token booth clerk. Ask her to call the police.
If there’s a fire, get out of the house. Don’t stop to get any of your toys.
Never talk to strangers. If someone ever tries to take you, fight with everything you have. Scream as loud as you can. (He’d never told her what to do if the man was too strong and there was no one to hear her screaming.)
She knew there was a river; she’d seen one on the way when Poppa first brought her here. She told herself that she’d find her way back to it by going downhill, and then she’d follow it like her daddy said. But now that she was really about to do it, she couldn’t remember how far it was, or exactly how to get there, or what she might encounter on her way. She was shaking, from cold, from fear.
Outside the moon was full again, just a sliver less than full, and high like a platter. She could see it through a wide gap in the planks that comprised the walls of her room.