Page 125 of Cackle

“Right,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. “We’re off.”

It’s bitter cold out. I put Ralph in my coat pocket so he doesn’t freeze.

“You okay, buddy?” I ask, peeking in.

He nods, but I can see he’s shivering.

I hurry down Main Street, into the woods, past the well, the graves, the hut. Icicles drip from the collapsing roof of the hut, and they add a certain menace to it. A chill drags across the exposed skin of my neck. I should have worn a scarf.

The ground is slick in some spots, and I almost fall twice, Ralph yipping nervously.

“I got you,” I tell him. “You’re okay.”

When Sophie opens the door for us, I’m so winded all I want to do is to collapse at her feet.

“Come in, darling,” she says. “You’re frozen. Come. I’ve got a fire going. And I have something to show you. A surprise.”

“A surprise?”

“Yes,” she says. She looks down. “You brought Ralph?”

He’s climbing out of my pocket.

“Yeah,” I say. “He wanted a visit.”

She huffs. “Annie, it’s too cold for him to be outside. He’s not even wearing his hat.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “He wanted to come. How could I say no to that face?”

Ralph cocks his head to the side, either confounded by the lie or charmed by the compliment.

Sophie sighs, taking Ralph and setting him on her shoulder. “All right.”

“Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t realize how cold it was.”

“Oh, of course you didn’t, pet. I know you take good care of Ralph,” she says. “And he keeps eyes on you.”

What does that mean?

“Uh, yep,” I say. My nervous voice sounds exactly like a pubescent boy’s. It’s indistinguishable.

“Hurry,” she says. “I’m very excited about the surprise. I have absolutely no restraint. None. Come, darling.”

She starts skipping away from me.

“Coming, coming. I still can’t feel my toes.”

“I’ll thaw you out,” she says, turning toward me to reveal a devilish grin.

Impatient, she grabs my hand and drags me the rest of the way to a room I’ve never been in before. The walls are pale blue, and there’s a gold fireplace, a gold chandelier. Everything orbits around a beautiful grand piano. There’s also a massive gold harp in the corner, and I can see cobwebs on it from here. There are a few petite antique chairs scattered around. Sophie sits me down on one of the chairs and tells me to close my eyes.

“They’re closed,” I say.

“Don’t open them yet,” she says. “Not until I say.”

“I won’t.”

It’s quiet for a minute, except for the hostile crackling of the fire burning in the fireplace. I get whiffs of smoke, hints of heat.