The Magic Apple never slept. It was two in the morning, yet all around us vehicles were zipping along the Upper East Side. Magic Cabs were dropping their fares, and someone, somewhere, was always expecting a pizza. Perhaps the travelers were a little more considerate than their daytime comrades; horns weren’t leaned on quite so readily, and police cars zapped their sirens just the once, but in all other regards, the city buzzed on, caring not a jot about the lateness of the hour.
Our driver had dropped us at the end of the street, about a block and a half away from the gates of the cemetery. This had been my idea. Henry’s brain had been fried enough, and I dreaded to think what further exposure would do to him. We all agreed it wasn’t worth the risk. I would text him when I had the scroll, but not a moment before.
We now stood on the sidewalk outside the All Shook Up elven cocktail parlor, a small bistro-like place that remained open twenty-four hours a day. A cardboard cutout of an older Elvis with pointy ears was by the door, his midriff listing the drink specials of the day. An emerald-green elven ring on his chubby finger pointed the way inside.
Sylvia hovered by the door, reluctant to go in. “Are you sure you don’t want to go over the plan one more time? There are so many things that could go wrong. You’ve had so little time to practice.” She reminded me of Mom. She wasn’t nagging. She was just concerned for me, and Scar too. I got it.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “We’ve been over it a thousand times already. It’ll be all right, I promise.”
“But do you have everything you need? The cloak? The powder? Salt? Your spell book in case of an emergency? And you’re wearing your ring, right?” she continued.
I raised my hand and showed her the ring to reassure her. Then I pointed to Scar, who wore a little pouch tied around her neck by a small piece of decorating ribbon. “All that, and I have my phone, don’t worry. I’ve checked everything several times.”
I turned to Henry for moral support. He looked like he wanted to say something, but no words left his lips. I guessed in the end he just didn’t know how to respond to me.
“I’ll text you as soon as I have the scroll,” I said, touching his arm. This time he didn’t pull away, but I would have liked a kiss. Maybe that was expecting a little too much. However, to my surprise, he took my hand and squeezed it.
“I wish…” Whatever he was thinking died on his lips. “Good luck,” he said and kissed me awkwardly on the cheek. Like he thought he ought to. It was something.
“Thank you.” I’m going to need it. “And don’t have too many of their witch’s brews.” I nervously laughed, cocking my head toward the cocktail parlor. “I need you sober.” Not that I was worried. It was just me putting on a brave face.
“We won’t,” Henry said. “And I’ll try Eleanor again. She’s usually up this time of day. You never know.”
“Good idea,” I said.
He opened the door, ushering Sylvia inside ahead of him. I waited until the door closed behind them both. Then suddenly Scar and I were alone. I felt a little choked.
“Come on,” I said, realizing that a young witch in a cloak out all alone with a black-and-red fox cub might look ominous. “We’d better scoot.”
We hurried along the sidewalk, Scar keeping pace and close to me. There was a ton of stuff in my backpack, but Sylvia had had the sense to sprinkle some of the trammeling powder on it, so I barely felt it at all.
As we neared the gates, I paused. When we’d gone over this at the apartment, everything sounded simple enough, but now I was here, I realized how odd I would look, just standing there by the gates, a hood covering my face as I channeled my thoughts into Scar. What if someone saw me? With my focus on Scar and the scroll, I might miss someone creeping up on me from behind, ready to mug me. Or maybe I’d look like I was casing the joint. Either way, it didn’t seem like a smart idea.
Not for the first time I found myself wishing this cloak made me invisible. But it did not. Quite the opposite. It was bright purple. I would have to do something about that.
Just beyond the gate was a large maple tree. Its leaves were long shed, and its bare branches did nothing to obscure the streetlamps or the light of the moon that shone brightly through it and onto the gates.
Luckily, I didn’t need a spell book for this. Just a little good old-fashioned earth magic. I walked slowly to the railings, ignoring the inevitable sense of unease and doom, and reaching through, I snapped a bloom from one of the witch hazel plants growing inside the gates. I rubbed the spikey flower in my hand, forcing the petals to break.
Once the petals were as fine as I could make them, I knelt before the trunk of the maple tree and, using my hands, clawed at the earth around the base. The dirt was cold and unyielding, turned hard by the season. I did not give up and kept clawing, until at last, I made the smallest of holes. It wasn’t deep, but I hoped it would be enough. I gathered my flowers, put them inside the hole, and covered it all with the dirt.
Earth Mother, receive this gift I bring,
And wake this tree from sleep to Spring.
I stood up and waited for the magic to happen.
It was hard to see at first, the effect was so small, but the maple began to bud, and then one by one, the leaves uncurled to open. In less than a minute, the entire maple was adorned by new leaves, and most importantly, it blocked the light, which just moments ago had streamed through its limbs.
I knelt, partially hidden by the low branches and huddling low. A young couple walked by. They were laughing and giggling, very much into each other, taking every opportunity to touch and caress. I got the feeling they had only just met. I waited for them to pass, praying the enchantments around the cemetery stopped people noticing anything in particular—and thankfully they showed no interest in me at all.
They were soon gone. If anyone else passed by, I hoped they would take me for a vagrant, using the trunk of the tree as a shield from the cold.
“Are you ready, Scar?” I whispered.
Scar’s large brown eyes fixed on mine.
“Okay, here goes.”
I pulled the hood over my head.
The world became a contrast of brightness and shadows. I squinted, adjusting to Scar’s night vision, which was clearly better than mine. A series of lights blinked all around me, and staring hard, I realized they were the eyes of other night predators, sitting in the trees or observing things from the shadows. I pulled the cloak a little closer, suddenly feeling very exposed.
Go inside big house. Find toilet paper. Mama watch. Okay?
Scar scurried over to the railings and quickly wiggled through the narrow fencing. I followed her, mesmerized, as she trampled the twigs beneath her feet and listened intently to the crunch of dead leaves as she twisted and turned through the graves of the cemetery. And the smell. Scents attacked me from every direction, some familiar, some not so much. The aroma of sweet, musty earth invaded my nostrils, but it was more than that—it was like I could smell every living and dead thing around me. Overwhelmed, I sat back against the tree, struggling to process the speed of Scar’s thoughts and the manic world of night now racing through my head. I felt dizzy and a little sick.
Come on, Cat. Deep breaths. You got this.
In no time at all, Scar reached the willow tree, and a moment after that, I could see the silhouette of the Abbey with the moon behind it, casting ominous shadows.
I caught my breath. It was so strange how the building I had come to love now filled me with dread. So much of my happiness rested on the outcome of tonight’s caper, and although the General was hardly the evil wizard of fairy tales, I had come to think of him in something of that light. His obstinacy and pigheadedness stood between me and the man I loved. Like the heroine in the fairy tales, I hoped I would prevail.
Keeping low to the ground, Scar hurried over the grounds and up to the doors of the Abbey. She leaned against them, but they were closed and would not yield.
Torhtlic duguð, I thought.
The doors did not open.
Torhtlic duguð, I repeated. Still, they would not budge.
Darn it, Henry had been wrong, and the General had locked the front doors after all. I could have kicked myself. This was always going to be a possibility, and I should have prepared a contingency for it. How dumb could I be?
Think, Cat, think.
I could sense Scar was waiting for my instructions by the door. I had to come up with something, and fast.
Scar, run that way. Good girl. Look up, look at window. Scar, get inside? I felt sick from the continually jerky Steadicam movements, but I wasn’t going to quit now.
Scar didn’t need to be told twice. Quick as a flash, she darted off into the night, clinging close to the walls of the Abbey. She leaped up and checked each window in turn, pushing against them to see if any were open. Even with my opening spell, they all remained annoyingly shut.
Scar had almost gone completely around the Abbey, and I had just about lost all hope when her keen eyes landed on a little movement a few feet away. Two white lights darted, then stopped, darted and stopped again, and then scurried off into the shadows.
Instinctively, Scar gave chase. I could feel her heart beat a little faster as she went after her prey.
No, Scar, no! I cried mentally. Stop it!
But Scar didn’t listen. Her undisciplined cub mind was on autopilot, and nothing was going to stop her fun. I realized that what she was chasing was a small field mouse. I held my breath, figuring she would soon either give up the chase or win her prize and be done with it. What if she caught it? Oh Gaia, I really wasn’t sure if I could bear listening to, and worse, feeling Scar crunching on her warm, tasty snack. I hadn’t prepared for this!
The mouse ran to the safety of the Abbey wall, no doubt following a well-trodden trail to make its escape, and I watched as just inches away, it scurried and bounded and leapt. And then disappeared.
Scar pawed at the large clump of grass through which the mouse had vanished. It parted to reveal a small window with a rusty iron grill over it. The window was low down at ground level and was partly open, allowing a little light and air into the Abbey cellars. It was so small it had probably passed the General’s notice. I imagined he thought none of us would be able to squeeze through it, and he’d have been right.
But for Scar, it presented no challenge at all. She stuck her nose through the grill, and with a few twists and turns, she was able to pass through the narrow opening.
Scar hopped down from the narrow sill and onto a wooden table below. I breathed a sigh of relief.
She was inside.