Bronze Pen (9781439156650) Read Free Page A

when she was there with the Mayberrys. But the entrance had been more open then, less covered by the curtain of vine.
    It took a long moment for Audrey’s eyes to adjust to the semidarkness. But the smell was immediately familiar—a heavy, earthy odor that hinted at things that oozed or slithered. Then the shadows gradually receded, and near the front of the cave dim shapes began to materialize. Her first impression was that nothing had changed. On each side rough rocky walls arched up over an area as large as a long narrow room. An almost empty room, except where two sawhorses supported some long splintery planks surrounded by apple crates—an arrangement that had served as a table and chairs in the days ofthe Mayberrys’ game. Other than the remains of pirate furniture, there had been only a messy pile of old rugs and blankets stacked up against the rear wall, but now that whole area was lost in darkness.
    Nothing much to see, but now Audrey was becoming aware of noises. From the darkness at the back of the cave came some soft clacking, hissing sounds and, from farther up, a series of tiny squeaks. She took another step into the darkness, and now, far up on the wall, a row of white faces were looking down at her. White faces with huge round eyes and sharp pointed beaks.
    Gasping, she was backing away when her fright changed into surprised recognition—owls, barn owls. Along with ducks, Grandma Nellie had been particularly fond of barn owls. Audrey came to a stop and started back. The owls’ round eyes gazed unblinkingly and their white faces quivered as they emitted another chorus of hoots and hisses.
    But there were still those other sounds. A dim whispery chorus of squeaks and squeals that seemed to be coming from…Audrey listened and then, following the sound, looked up to where a large patch of the cave’s rocky ceiling seemed to have come to life. Staring down at her were dozens, maybe hundreds, of large round eyes in pointed foxy faces. The ceiling of the cave was alive with bats.
    Grandma Nellie had known a lot, not only about owls, but also about bats. So Audrey knew, at least her mind knew, that bats were harmless, useful creatures, but anotherpart of her wasn’t so sure. There were, it seemed, hidden feelings that came from rumors that bats would suck your blood—or at least tangle themselves in your hair. She was backing away, her hands protecting her head, when there was a new sound. This time a loud squawking noise that came from the back of the cave.
    In the silent gloom of the cave the noise was startlingly loud, almost frightening. “Ack,” it said. “Ack, ack, ack.” The harsh sound was all she heard. Not exactly a quack—as Audrey looked quickly from side to side, she saw there was no sign of the duck; it seemed to have disappeared. But whatever the noise was, it seemed to quiet all the others.
    As Audrey turned back toward the darkness at the end of the cave, she began to be aware of motion. Something was moving back there. As if coming out of nowhere, an indistinct figure seemed to be materializing—a dim, unrecognizable something…or someone. As Audrey blinked hard and went on staring, she gradually began to sense, if not quite see, a strangely shapeless figure, draped in a long dark cape, who seemed to be sitting or crouching against the far wall. It wasn’t until it spoke that Audrey was entirely sure it was alive—and human.
    â€œWell, well,” a creaky voice said. “Welcome to my private abode, my dear.” And then, before Audrey could even begin to imagine answering, it went on. “I thank you for coming.”
    Audrey swallowed hard and managed to say, “Are you—are you talking to me?”
    It wasn’t until then, when the thing at the back of the cave shook its head and emitted a high cackling laugh, that Audrey began to think of it as female. “Yes, I am, my dear,” the weird,