Giving her a look that I hoped expressed how irritated I was at her tone, I huffed, “I mean that I was walking past here and it was as if the painting called to me.”
“Paintings don’t talk.”
“I didn’t say it talked. I said it called to me.”
“Same thing.”
“No, it’s not. Talking is… Oh, who gives a shit?” I ended up snarling. “I walked past the damn thing. The hair at the nape of my neck stood on end.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t just a draft?”
Ignoring her, I kept going. “I came back. I thought I saw something move. Then I thought it was all in my head.”
“Which it probably was.”
“I am not stopping until I tell you everything. So, you might as well button it up, okay.”
“Well, color me excited.”
No longer willing to banter, I emphasized every word as I continued. “Then it happened again. I saw something move. So, I touched the painting. The damn thing shocked me, and…
“And you yelled for me.”
“Yes.”
“You just could have said, ‘the painting shocked me’. You know that, right?”
“Just tell me what’s up with the painting. You can lecture me later.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
“Lucky me.”
Looking on as the Witch, the one next in line to be the Baba Yaga, examined the painting every way possible without touching it, I was just about to tell her to forget it when she breathed, “Well, shit,” and waved her hand.
Blue bubbles, sparkles, and smoke filled the air. It wafted around the painting, completely covering it. Counting to three, Zelda pursed her lips and blew out a breath as if she were blowing out candles on a birthday cake.
In the blink of an eye, the artwork was gone. The wall behind it was gone, and in its place was an opening the size of the gilded frame with a set of stone steps leading into the darkness.
“Well,” I chirped, suddenly hopeful. “That’s convenient."
“No,” Zelda disagreed. “That's horrifying.”
“No way,” I disputed. “It’s another place I can search for Kai.”
Stepping onto the first step, I was stretching my foot to reach the second when Theresa showed up with her gun drawn and the safety off.
Maeve was right behind her with a new pair of sterile gloves on her hands and the medical bag back under her arm.
Coming right behind me was Zelda, silver Magic fired up and at the ready to take out anyone or anything she deemed a threat.
Of course, my boys and Mona were there too. Chewy complained, “Why does no one ever listen to me? I suggested tacos, and instead, we’re heading into a scary hole in the wall of a smoldering mansion. Talk about the wrong day to be without opposable thumbs.”
Listening as the dogs continued to discuss the odds of us getting out of the Hoopingarner House alive and also getting tacos anywhere in the near future, I led our merry band of explorers down the darkest, dankest tunnel I’d ever seen. The silence, aside from the dogs’ mental whispers, was deafening.
The air was heavy. Something ancient and powerful had been there, and might still be.
Following the passage as it curved to the right, a spark of recognition shot up my spine. It was weird and kind of heady, and the weird thing was that there was no fear– Not from me or from the spark. It was familiar in the most unfamiliar way, and for some strange reason, the word home flashed in the forefront of my mind.
