The Night Gardener (30 page)

Molly looked at Kip, a dread realization creeping over her. “Its
likeness
?” she said. “You said you’d trap him and take him with you.”

“And I am … in a manner of speaking!”

Molly stared at the tree, at the trap, at her brother. “We need more than manners!” she snapped. “We need it to
go away.
”

She felt Kip’s hand on her sleeve. “Molly?” he whispered.

Molly stood up, glaring at the doctor. “You lied to us. You made a promise that you would help, but you just want to get your name in some fancy books.”

“You observed as much yourself when enlisting me,” Doctor Crouch said patiently. “Chin up. If this creature does appear, there will doubtless follow a legion of eager researchers in my wake. Surely one of them will manage to help you.”

“Molly?” Kip repeated, louder.

“We need help now!” she shouted.

Doctor Crouch stood. “Don’t let’s get hysterical. Perhaps I should prescribe you something …”

“Molly!”

Molly turned around. “What is it?” she snapped.

Kip pointed toward the tree. “Someone’s comin’,” he said.

Molly and Doctor Crouch both ducked down, peering around the side of the wagon. “The spirit’s very tall, cloaked all in black,” she whispered. Through the gray fog, she could see a shadow winding its way over and through the hills. It moved uncertainly, furtively, creeping and then stopping.

“Good heavens,” Doctor Crouch said, grabbing his camera. His hands were shaking. “That’s a lot bigger than a badger …”

“Told you,” Kip said.

Molly studied the figure. It seemed different from the Gardener, shorter and less sure of its steps. As it moved, it rattled. There was something strange yet familiar about the sound. The figure crept onto the leaf-covered ground surrounding the tree. It paced back and forth. In its hand was something long and sharp. “Doctor,” Molly whispered, “I dinna think—”

“Shhh!” the man hissed. “On my mark.”

“But Doctor …”

“Now!”

Molly didn’t move.

“I said,
Now
!” the man shouted. He pushed past her and struck
Galileo’s backside with the broad of his hand. The horse reared up and sprinted off—pulling the wagon and the rope with it. Molly heard a shriek of surprise as the net swept up from the ground, catching its prey in the air.

There came a blinding flash of light. Molly fell back as sparks spewed from the doctor’s camera and instantly turned to smoke. She covered her mouth, coughing, feeling her way through the cloud. “I’ve got you,” she said to Kip, who had been knocked over in the confusion.

Doctor Crouch was already at the net, hopping from side to side like a lucky prospector. “I’ve done it!” he shouted. “I’ve done it!”

Molly blinked, her eyes still adjusting. The net dangled from the giant branch, the ropes groaning with the weight of its quarry, which twisted and rattled in protest.

Crouch held his camera in front of him like a weapon. “Back, beast!”

The net slowly turned around, and Molly saw a weathered face crowned by white hair and two fiendish eyes. “It’s you!” she said.

Hester Kettle gave a wry, toothless smile. “You were expecting someone else?”

hat are you doin’ here?” Molly demanded.

Hester dangled before them, her arms and legs jutting out of the net at odd angles. “Why, just hanging about.” She gave a sideways smile as she rocked past.

“Just as I thought!” Doctor Crouch thrust a finger in the air. “Your spirit is nothing more than a disease-ridden vagrant.”

“Storyteller, if it pleases,” Hester said.

“Contagious, no doubt. She’s probably given Crouch Fever to half the valley.” Doctor Crouch traded his camera for a large syringe from his belt and removed a cork from the end of the needle. “Now, children—hold the woman down while I collect a sample of her blood!”

“Save your time,” Molly said. “She’s not what’s makin’ us sick.”

The doctor hesitated, needle poised. “Are you quite certain? Because were I to
imagine
a source of Crouch Fever, it might look something like that.”

Hester batted her eyelashes. “You’re too kind, sir.”

Molly grabbed the net, turning Hester to face her. “You didn’t answer my question. What are you doin’ here?”

The old woman hemmed and hawed. “Well, luv, it’s hard to say …”

Molly folded her arms. “Try.”

“She’s come for the tree.” Kip stepped beside Molly. “Just look at what she’s carryin’.” He indicated the sharp thing clasped in the woman’s hand. In the light of Doctor Crouch’s lamp, Molly could see that it was a pair of old shears. “She was gonna take a cutting of the tree,” he said. “Snip off a little bit so she could plant her own.”

Molly looked back at Hester. “That true?”

Hester sighed. “True or not, it’s clear you’re set on believing it.” She eyed the branch overhead, which was sagging perilously. “Perhaps you might let me down so we can hash it out like good neighbors.”

Much as Molly would have liked to let Hester dangle, she knew that if the branch snapped, their trap would be ruined. She nodded to Kip, who hobbled to Galileo and set to coaxing him back toward the house. The net jerked up and down as the horse fought against its reins. “Easy with that horsey,” Hester called. “You wouldn’t want to drop an old woman on her head.”

“Wouldn’t we?” Molly stepped back as the net slowly worked its way to the ground.

The doctor, who had evidently gotten his hopes up about finding a cure, was clearly out of sorts. He removed the tin plate from his camera and tossed it aside. “My dear woman, do you realize that you’ve just interrupted—I daresay
ruined
—an extremely important
experiment?” He swatted a leaf from the air in front of him. “I am on the cusp of a discovery that could change my career. Have you anything to say for yourself?”

Hester looked as if she were about to oblige but stopped short. A hollow moaning filled the darkness. She widened her eyes, looking past the doctor toward the house. Her expression was a mixture of terror and fascination. “As luck might have it”—she swallowed, raising a trembling finger—“you still might get your chance.”

An icy gust of wind rattled the leaves around them. Galileo snorted, frantically pulling at his reins. The net swayed perilously from side to side, and the tree groaned overhead. Molly shivered, slowly turning around—

The Night Gardener was watching them.

olly stared at the Gardener, who was standing at the edge of the drive, the open front door behind him, the shovel and watering can in his hands. Even in the shadows, his skin shone with a silver light. He did not move but cocked his head, looking between them with patient curiosity.

“Like a story come to life …,” Hester murmured breathlessly.

“Keep still,” Molly whispered. “Don’t nobody move or shout. He’s just here for the tree. He won’t hurt us none.” She tried not to think about whether or not this was in fact true. She definitely tried not to think about the open graves at her feet.

Doctor Crouch grabbed his camera box and inched toward the Night Gardener. “I just need one photograph …”

“Doctor, no!” Molly reached for his arm, but she was too slow. Crouch was already on the other side of the tree. He uncorked a bottle from his belt and dumped some powder into the flash tray.

Hester leaned toward Molly. “You sure he won’t hurt us, luv?”

Molly swallowed. “I’m not sure of anythin’ anymore.”

Doctor Crouch was now only a few feet from the drive. The Night Gardener had not moved, but Molly could hear a low sough of warning.

“Crouch, old boy, say hello to history.” The doctor inched closer, like a man hypnotized. The spirit cocked his head, his black, black eyes fixed on the doctor. Dead leaves circled around him like a barrier. Doctor Crouch slowly aimed his camera at the Night Gardener—

Whoosh!

The leaves attacked, knocking the doctor back. He shouted as a gust of wind ripped the camera from his hands. The wooden box sailed through the darkness, flying straight past Molly’s head and smashing against the side of the house.

“So much for his experiment!” Hester called, her net swaying in the wind.

“Run, you fools!” Doctor Crouch was sprinting straight toward them, a look of bloodless terror on his face. “Out of my way!” He shoved Molly aside, nearly knocking her into one of the open graves.

“Step aside, boy!” he bellowed. “I’m commandeering this wagon!” He was fighting with Kip for control of the reins.

Kip, however, would not give up. “Let go, you fat gob!”

Galileo snorted, pulling against his harness. The wagon rolled forward and back. Molly heard a loud clatter as Hester’s net swung wildly to one side and slammed against the side of the house. She heard more shouting from the wagon, and the net slid high into the air. “Perhaps you might give your brother a hand,” Hester called down, the humor drained from her voice.

Molly looked back at the Night Gardener, who now had the shovel in his hand, raised like a weapon.

Molly looked to the wagon and saw that Doctor Crouch, who had knocked Kip to the ground, was now pulling himself onto the bench. She sprang to her feet and ran toward him. “The trap! We have to lower the net!” She grabbed hold of his apron—

“Unhand me!” The doctor struck Molly hard across the cheek. She gripped the side of the wagon, gasping. She could taste blood in her mouth, and her entire face throbbed with a pain she had never felt before. She tried to stand up, but her legs were too weak. Doctor Crouch stared down at her. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said, taking the reins. “It’s survival of the fittest.”

“You don’t touch my sister!” Kip grabbed his leg, pulling him down from the bench. The man hit the ground beside them, the reins still in his hand. Galileo neighed, rearing up on two legs. Molly heard a sharp creaking sound as Hester’s net swayed from the tree and then—

Crack!

The branch snapped clean from the trunk. Hester cried out as her net plummeted to the earth. She hit the ground with a backbreaking crash, pinned beneath the branch.

Molly heard a windy snarl. The Night Gardener staggered forward, stumbling to his knees. He dropped his shovel and watering can, which spilled uselessly onto the grass.