Darkwood Read Free

Orange light came in through the cracks in the chimney stones. The garret was always smoky, but at least it was never completely dark. When at last she heard something it wasn’t any of the familiar sounds that meant her aunt and uncle were preparing for bed.
    Someone was knocking at the front door of the cottage.
    Impossible. The sky had been dark for hours now. But there were her uncle’s heavy footsteps crossing the room and the sound of the door being unbarred and quickly opened, then just as quickly shut and barred again. There was a subdued babbleof voices, then more footsteps and the sound of benches being scraped back at the table. A man was speaking. Uncle Jock, or the visitor? She couldn’t make out the words.
    Once more, Annie eased open the trapdoor. The room below was red with firelight. A man sat at the table across from Uncle Jock. His back was to her, but she could see that he had narrow shoulders and a pointed head covered by wisps of straw-colored hair. Uncle Jock poured himself and the other man a cupful of whisky. Aunt Prim sat in the chair by the fire mending a pair of socks. She made a big show of measuring and snapping off thread, but Annie knew she was listening.
    Uncle Jock was doing most of the talking. He finished his drink quickly and poured himself another. A musket leaned against the table by the strange man’s side. From time to time he caressed it absently, as though it were a pet dog. Uncle Jock poured himself a third drink. He began to wave his hands around in big gestures, his eyebrows raising and lowering dramatically. She caught a few of his words:
strong, sorry, worth, quarry
. Suddenly Uncle Jock laughed and pounded his fist on the table.
    â€œIt’s a deal, then!” he cried. The other man reached out and laid his hand over Uncle Jock’s. It was a light touch, almost gentle, but a spasm of fear crossed Uncle Jock’s face.
    â€œNot like the first,” the man said. “I want the living child.”
    Uncle Jock managed the barest of nods. Before releasing it, the man gave Uncle Jock’s hand a couple of soft pats.
There, there
.
    Uncle Jock snatched back his hand and rubbed it with the other hand as if to warm it.
    The man rose to leave.
    â€œWait! You wanted to know about anything unusual, right? Any odd marks?”
    â€œOn the girl? Yes.”
    â€œNot on the girl, but …” Uncle Jock spoke in a rush. “Kinderstalk got into the neighbor’s yard and left behind a tuft of white fur.” He looked up hopefully. “That’s unusual, isn’t it?”
    â€œIndeed. Any signs in your own yard?”
    â€œMy yard! No, none. None at all.”
    The man drew a purse from his pocket and shook out a handful of ringstones. Even from her perch, Annie could see that they were high quality, perfectly smooth and bright white. He took a single stone from the pile and poured the rest back into the bag. He placed the stone in front of Uncle Jock.
    â€œTo whet your appetite.” He paused. “If anyone asks, kinderstalk took the girl.”

    The visitor paused on the threshold to light his lantern. Cold black air blew into the cottage. Then, quickly, he turned back toward the room, as if he had just remembered something. For the first time, Annie saw his face. She gasped, a tiny sound, but his head jerked toward her, and for a second their eyes seemed to meet. Then he smiled, the lipless mouth opening onto two rows of perfectly square white teeth.
    â€œA good night to you,” he said, and stepped out into the darkness.
    Uncle Jock lunged at the door and slammed it shut.
    Aunt Prim looked up from her mending. “When, Jock?”
    â€œTomorrow.”
    Aunt Prim nodded. “When she’s finished her morning chores.”

    Firelight colored the room a vivid orange. Deep shadows gathered in the corners where the light didn’t reach.
    Annie stood with one hand on the ladder. She could still climb back up,