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DUNO, came the answer. IN CLOSET I THNK. 2ND FLR.
Coco ground her teeth. She’d had enough of those second-floor closets. But at the same time her heart was beating fast with hope. She could do that! She could go back up the stairs, use the watch to tell her which closet held Gretel’s bones. The planchette was still moving. BTR HURY, it said. SETH AN MTHR HMLCK TRY STOP U.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Coco muttered. She grabbed the planchette. There were more important questions. Quickly she spelled out WHCH MROR, WHN MEET, and DUZ GABE NO WHR BRIAN. The cold of the basement floor soaked into her socks as she whipped the planchette around the board.
Coco wished she could actually see Ollie and talk to her properly. But she was desperately glad she’d grabbed the Ouija board. She didn’t know what would have happened if she hadn’t. She finished her questions, sat back. Waited for a reply.
BUNK RM MROR, said the Ouija board.
Okay, Coco thought. But when?
Coco waited for the rest. Nothing.
WHN, she signed impatiently.
The planchette wasn’t moving.
“Ollie?” she whispered.
Just then the watch started to beep. Not slow and calm this time. No, loud and fast, like an alarm when you were late to school. Like a warning.
A blast of icy air whipped through the basement, and finally the planchette started to move again. But this time, Coco didn’t think it was Ollie.
DO U KNO WHT HPNS TO THEVS, said the Ouija board.
Another cold gust whipped down through the stairwell, hard enough to instantly numb Coco’s face. Up there, in the dark, she heard footsteps.
Then she heard Seth’s voice. “Thieves are punished,” he said.
Then the lamp went out.
14
A CLACKING FOOTSTEP landed on the dark staircase above Ollie. And a soft, hissing voice spoke out of the shadows. “Little mouse—where are you hiding? Where? Good little mice don’t hide. Where are you?” Another footstep thumped on the staircase.
Ollie scrambled to her feet and back from the Ouija board just as she heard her mother’s watch start beeping again. Loudly. Urgently. Invisibly. On the other side of the mirror.
Mother Hemlock was coming. Why hadn’t she come before? Had Seth told her to wait? Why?
Clack. A foot landed on the steps in the darkness. Clack. Ollie’s lips went stiff with fear; her skin felt tight and cold. Gabe’s masked face showed no expression, but she saw his big shoulders go rigid under the rotten ski jacket. Behind Ollie, Gretel whimpered, “You brought her here, you brought her here!”
Somewhere on the staircase, Ollie thought she heard the strange, grinding growl of the dead bear. Its stiff paws thudded on the stairs.
“No,” Gretel was whispering to herself. “I’ll be good, I’ll be quiet, don’t put me back with the others.”
“Someone has been telling secrets,” muttered Mother Hemlock from the staircase. Clack, clack went her footsteps. “Someone has been plotting. Someone is trying to run away. I know what to do with runaways.”
Everything in the basement looked to Ollie as sharp as though it had been outlined in ink. The footsteps were coming nearer and nearer. Ollie turned to Gabe. “Is there another way out of the basement?”
Without a sound, he pointed away into the darkness.
“Okay,” said Ollie. She had to force herself not to bolt, immediately, in the direction of Gabe’s pointing finger. “Gretel, we have to go.” If she needed Gretel to open the mirror, Ollie knew she couldn’t lose her. The smiling man definitely wanted her and Gretel to be separated.
A gust of icy air swept through the basement, as though Mother Hemlock had breathed it out from the staircase.
Then the oil lamp went suddenly out. They were left in the darkness, with Mother Hemlock’s footsteps still descending. There was a soft wail from Gretel. “No! My light! Please, I’m tired of the dark.”
The basement was dark. Coal-dark, moonless-night-camping dark. Darkness seemed to press on Ollie’s eyelids, like it had a force all its own. Unable to see, Ollie froze; she didn’t know which way to move. There were crates and boxes scattered all over the floor; she’d trip if she went three feet without light. Fumbling, Ollie pulled her book of matches out of her pocket and lit one.
