I didn’t want to think about that possibility, but it hovered, unin-vited, in my mind.
Then my father’s voice came on the line, “Where are you? Are you all right?”
Relief washed over me. He was there.
“We’re fine,” Hudson said. “We’ve got the wizard with us.” My father gave Hudson directions to their hiding spot, and then Hudson banged the hilt of his sword against the roof as a signal to Bartimaeus to stop the carriage. Once it halted, Hudson went outside to give directions to the wizard, and I talked to my father on the walkie-talkie. It felt like so much longer than two days since I’d seen him.
“You’re all right?” he asked again.
“Yes, and I’m bringing a surprise.”
“A good surprise, I hope. I’m not sure how many more bad surprises I can handle.”
I held the walkie-talkie away from the baby’s curious hands.
Would my father consider me showing up to camp with my infant son a good thing or a bad thing? “It’s a very cute surprise,” I said.
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Junior-Stetson-Edward gurgled out a stream of umba, umba sounds and reached his chubby fingers toward the walkie-talkie.
“What did you say?” my father asked. “I didn’t catch that last part.”
I didn’t want to explain, so I changed the subject. “It’s lucky Hudson got ahold of you right away.”
“It wasn’t luck,” my father said. “I never turned off my walkie-talkie.”
I shifted the baby in my arms. “I thought you were supposed to conserve batteries.”
“I brought plenty of extras from the house, and I wanted to make sure I heard you whenever you called.” I didn’t say anything for a moment. Perhaps I was just overtired and emotional, but tears filled my eyes. My father had kept the walkie-talkie near him and on, waiting for word from us, waiting for me to come within range.
“Are you still there?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m here.” I leaned the walkie-talkie against my cheek. “I’ll be back soon. I love you, Dad.”
“I love you too,” he said.
Hudson climbed back into the carriage, and we trundled down the street again. He told my dad we were on our way, then switched the walkie-talkie off. “When we get to the turnoff, I’ll go alone to camp,” he said. “The wizard doesn’t want to walk into unknown parts of the forest, so he’s staying with the carriage. You should stay too. Less temptation for bandits that way.” Hudson fingered the walkie-talkie, thinking. “I hope they don’t get any ideas about holding your family ransom for more gold.”
I didn’t want to believe Hudson’s suspicions, but it was best to be prepared for the worst. “I’ll go with you partway and change some 299/356
things into gold along the path. You can tell Robin Hood it’s my gift to them. Maybe a bird in the hand will be worth two in the bush—at least if it’s a big, golden bird.”
Hudson nodded. “Good idea. Maybe they’ll care more about moving and hiding their new stash than about keeping your family from leaving. And if that doesn’t work—we’ll ask the wizard to turn them in-to hedgehogs.”
I wasn’t sure if Hudson was serious about that, but he got a satisfied look on his face, as though already picturing it.
Eventually, the carriage left the main road and wobbled over bumps and juts until it came to a stop.
I put the baby in his sling, debated for a moment whether it would be safer to leave the magic book in the carriage, then slipped it into the diaper bag and took it with me. I didn’t want to risk its safety.
Bartimaeus had suspended some sort of magic lights in front of the horses, but beyond those, the forest was a patchwork of shadows.
Hudson and I followed the path into it. He carried his sword in one hand and the flashlight in the other. Since I was going back to the carriage soon, I followed Hudson, holding a candle. I kept my hand in front of the flame to keep it from blowing out.
A night bird called overhead. Bushes rustled. My eyes glanced around the shadows of the forest, looking for King John’s men behind every tree we passed. I had to keep reminding myself that people didn’t stay out after dark in the Middle Ages. The knights were settled in for the night by now, and besides, if anyone else had been around, we would have seen their lamplight.
A bird flew from a bush straight at me, startling me so much I let out a gasp. Hudson turned back to check on me. I expected him to tell me not to be so jumpy. Instead, he took my hand and squeezed it. “It’s going to be all right. We’ll be home soon.” 300/356
Home. That life seemed like the fairy tale now, and this was the real one. These huge trees and darkness and uncertainty.
A little farther down the path, I saw some rocks that were the right size to turn into gold. They were big enough that it would take some work on the Merry Men’s part to move or hide them. As I changed each one, I felt a stab of pain and then the rock’s rough surfaces grew smooth underneath my fingertips.
Hudson helped me up when I was done and handed me my candle. “Can you make it back to the carriage?” I nodded.
He turned to go, but I reached out for his arm. “Be careful. Watch out for bandits.”
He smiled. “I will.” He dropped a quick kiss on my lips. It was over so soon I didn’t have time to think about it.
But as I turned and walked back toward the carriage, I thought about the kiss anyway. It was okay to feel this way about Hudson because things would work out for us. Didn’t the baby prove that? I ran my free hand along the sling and the contours of the baby’s warm little body.
For the first time in a long time, I let myself hope for good things.
When we got home, my family would be closer, happier. Hudson and I would be together—and not in a running-for-our-lives sort of way like the last few days, but in a boyfriend-girlfriend sort of way.
I was wondering how Hudson would break the news to his father about dating the girl he’d met at the police station, when a gust of wind blew my candle out. I was instantly plunged into darkness.
I reached in the diaper bag for the box of matches. My fingers fumbled nervously through the contents. The sudden darkness reminded me how alone I was.
A noise came from behind me, like twigs breaking.
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No need to panic, I told myself, it’s another bird or something.
I put the candle in the bend of my arm so I could use both hands to find the matches. I heard another noise, like dry leaves being stepped on. I spun around to face whatever was there, but I couldn’t see anything in the darkness.
These sorts of noises had probably been here all along. I just hadn’t paid attention to them because I could see. Nothing was in front of me. Nothing was coming closer. Everything would be fine as soon as I lit the candle again.
A clunk sounded in front of me, perhaps a footstep. I took a step backward, and stopped sifting through the diaper bag. I realized I didn’t need the candle to see.
“I’m not afraid,” I said.
The sparklers went off around my head, illuminating the forest better than the tiny flame had done.
The trees in front of me were clear of any danger, and I relaxed until I heard a voice to my side say, “You’re lying about that.”
Chapter 22
I spun around. Rumpelstiltskin stood only inches away. His thin lips spread into a smile. “And you should be afraid.” I dropped the candle and bolted forward. I needed to escape, to get the baby to safety. I only made it a few steps before Rumpelstiltskin’s fingers clutched my arm and pulled me back with more strength than I expected from such bony hands.
“You mustn’t run in the dark forest, Mistress Miller,” his voice hissed near my ear. “You’re bound to hurt yourself that way.” He wore a dark cloak that brushed against the ground. A wreath made of twisted, bare branches encircled his head, which made his cheekbones seem even more angular. His eyes looked sunken but every bit as full of the churning darkness they’d held during our other meetings. It struck me as strange that even here in the evening forest, I could see the churning in his eyes.