Fear Games Read online

  8

  The chicken took a few steps toward her. Its claws clicked on the stone floor.

  Deborah raised her hands to the sides of her face and gaped in horror. Aaron’s mother sobbed anew at the sight of her son.

  The chicken had long, wavy blond hair. Aaron’s hair.

  It tilted its head and gazed up at Deborah with one flat black eye. It uttered a long, low cluck and stared at her without moving, accusing her.

  Deborah struggled to catch her breath.

  “We know this is your doing, Deborah,” Emily Harrison whispered. “You threatened the boys yesterday. You promised to turn them into chickens. Aaron told me.”

  She shoved Deborah toward the long-haired chicken. “Now change him back. Change him back into our son. I’m begging you—if you have a drop of decency in your black heart…” She glared at Deborah, her eyes filling with tears.

  “B-but…” Deborah struggled to choke out words. In spite of her hatred for Aaron, she felt sorry for him and his mother. “I did not do this,” she whispered. “Believe me. I am innocent. I do not know any spells. I have no powers. I did not do this to Aaron.”

  The blond-haired chicken clucked again and scratched its beak against the stone floor.

  “You must believe my daughter,” Katherine spoke up. “She is telling the truth. She is innocent.”

  “Innocent?” Emily raged. “Innocent?” She grabbed Deborah’s brown hair and tugged it back from her forehead.

  “There is the crescent mark of the witch! Plain as day!” the woman shrieked. “Innocent? Innocent? With the mark of the moon on her face? With all the evil that has cursed this village since the day she was born?”

  Deborah heard footsteps approach the doorway. Low voices.

  She turned to see Alderman Harrison stride into the room, followed by two other men carrying muskets.

  Harrison removed his tall black hat and stared in shock at the rooster, as if he still couldn’t believe his eyes. Then he turned to Deborah.

  “Your evil has no place in my home,” he said in a trembling voice. “My son—my poor boy. Change him back, witch—or suffer the consequences.”

  “I—I do not know how,” Deborah stammered. “Please, believe me—”

  Harrison narrowed his eyes at her and scowled. “I have brought the sheriff from the next village,” he announced to everyone in the room. “Since this is Sunday, we cannot act. But I promise—Deborah Andersen will be hanged as a witch at nightfall tomorrow.”

  9

  With a horrified cry, Deborah dropped to her knees. “Please, sir. I pray you. Have mercy. I did not do this.”

  “Spare my daughter’s life,” Katherine pleaded. “She has no powers, I swear!” She pulled Deborah to her feet.

  “She has the mark of the moon on her head,” Emily Harrison said. “She has brought nothing but despair to our village—more with every year of her life. We cannot tolerate her evil ways any longer!”

  The woman bent down and lifted the blond-haired chicken into her arms. She raised it to Deborah’s face. “Bring Aaron back! Reverse the curse you have cast on our son!”

  Deborah shied away from the ugly animal. “I—I have no powers,” she whispered.

  “She is a liar!” Emily declared. She dropped the chicken and rushed at Deborah, shrieking, sobbing, scratching at Deborah’s face, wrenching her hair.

  Deborah shrank back. She raised her hands to shield her face.

  Alderman Harrison grabbed his wife and struggled to tug her away. He held her in his arms. She sobbed on his shoulder.

  “Go home,” the alderman snapped at Katherine. “Take your daughter home for one last night. The village council will meet tomorrow morning. Their sentence will be carried out at dusk.”

  “I beg you,” Katherine said. “Spare my daughter’s life. She is only twelve. Show mercy, sir. I will take her away from the village if you let her live.”

  “Leave now,” Harrison sneered, waving them toward the door. “The council will decide your daughter’s fate. Her punishment will be harsh—and final.”

  “Please—!” Deborah cried.

  Her mother pulled her to the cottage door. The last thing Deborah saw before stumbling out into the daylight was the long-haired chicken, its chest heaving in and out as it gazed up at her with one flat black eye.

  Deborah spent the rest of the day in a daze, pacing back and forth in the small cottage. Her mother prepared a small supper of day-old bread and a bit of mutton stew. Deborah sat at the table on her straw-seated chair and stared at the food on her plate. She couldn’t touch her dinner, even though she knew it might be her last.

  Her mother spoke little. After supper, Deborah washed the dented pewter dishes. Katherine sat in a corner facing the hearth with a small prayer book in her lap. She kept her head bowed. She stayed there all evening, not once looking up.

  Deborah had never seen her mother pray before.

  Finally, after changing into her linen nightshirt, Deborah sat beside her mother near the dying fire. “Will they hang me, Mother?” she asked. “Will they?”

  Katherine lowered her prayer book. “They are honorable men. They will come to their senses,” she replied in a dry, flat voice.

  Deborah swallowed hard. She felt chilled under her heavy nightshirt. She hugged herself to stop trembling. “Mother, you never asked me if I did cast that spell on Aaron Harrison. You never asked if I have powers that I use on the villagers.”

  The embers crackled in the hearth. Katherine gazed at Deborah for a long time. “I have no need to ask,” she said finally. “I know my daughter. I know that you are not a witch.”

  Deborah wrapped her arms around her mother and buried her face in her neck. She wanted her mother to tell her that everything would be okay. That her life would be spared. That the villagers would realize their mistake.

  But Katherine remained grim-faced, staring into the dying fire. She is holding back tears, Deborah thought. She is forcing herself not to cry in front of me.

  Deborah lay on her straw bed but couldn’t sleep.

  Is this my last night on earth? she wondered.

  She stared up at the darkness. Pictures rolled through her mind. Her father with all of his bundled wares, turning to wave to her as he left for the trading ship that would take him to China…Aaron and the other boys chasing her from the school, throwing rocks and calling her names…The blond rooster staring up at her, accusing her…

  Deborah finally drifted off to sleep. But shouts and cries from outside the cottage shook her awake. Her first thought: They are coming for me!

  She jumped from bed and ran to the front room. The cottage door was open. Katherine stood in the doorway, staring out. Her face and nightshirt reflected a flashing, flickering red glow.

  In the distance, the alarmed shouts grew louder.

  “Mother—” Deborah gasped. “What is happening?”

  10

  Deborah rushed to the doorway and pressed up beside her mother.

  She stared at the bright red flames that danced up to the night sky. A roaring blaze. People ran in all directions, waving wildly, screaming. A dog barked frantically in the distance.

  The roar of the fire nearly drowned out the shrieks and cries.

  A wall of flames shot up over the buildings across the field. The crackle of burning wood rang out over the thunder of the fire. Thick clouds of smoke billowed over the flames.

  “The village burns,” Katherine murmured. Deborah saw the flames reflected in her mother’s eyes.

  “But—how?” Deborah whispered.

  Men ran in panic. Women held their children close, shrieking in terror.

  Without realizing what she was doing, Deborah began to wander across the field toward the burning village. Bathed in red, she thought. Everyone is bathed in red, as if they’ve been dipped in the fire.

  She shivered as she drew nearer. A cold wind blew back her hair. The wind carried the choking aroma of the smoke. And as it brushed Deborah’s
arms, the smoke felt colder than the air.

  Cold?

  Yes. The wind off the flames was cold.

  But how could that be?

  As Deborah wandered closer, she could make out the frightened words of the villagers….

  “Cold! The flames are cold!”

  “The fire burns cold! What kind of flames are these?”

  “The fire freezes as it burns!”

  “Witchcraft! Witchcraft!”

  Deborah’s heart stopped. She spun around. Started to run back to her cottage.

  Too late.

  She saw the accusing stares of the villagers. Saw the fright, the hatred in their eyes as they glared at her.

  Saw their anger.

  I’m doomed, she thought, running over the grass, the ground flashing red beneath her feet.

  I didn’t make this strange, cold fire. But it has sealed my fate.

  They will come for me now. They will not let me live.

  They came for Deborah the next morning.

  The whole village gathered behind Alderman Harrison and the two men carrying muskets. They stood in grim-faced silence as the alderman led Deborah and her mother from the cottage.

  Across the field, the fire still sizzled. Black smoke choked the morning sky, blocking the sun, making it as dark as dusk.

  Slabs of ice covered the ground where the houses and cottages and village buildings had stood. The strange, cold fire had left a blanket of ice over the ashes.

  The entire village was in ruins. There was nothing left.

  The villagers, exhausted, stood in silence. Alderman Harrison stepped close to Deborah, his shadow falling over her like a shroud.

  “You have cursed the village of Ravenswoode for the last time,” he announced in a booming voice.

  “No! Spare my daughter!” Katherine shrieked. “I beg you! Spare her!”

  Deborah’s legs began to tremble. She wondered if she would be able to stand. The ground tilted. She suddenly felt dizzy and dazed.

  The alderman stared somberly at her. “Because your mother is a good and honest woman, your life will be spared,” he announced. “But we will suffer no more of your evil magic.”

  Deborah uttered a shuddering moan. She gripped her mother’s hand, surprised to find it as icy as hers.

  “You must leave the village at once,” Harrison ordered. “You must leave and never return. You will be taken to the town of Plymouth. There you will board a sailing ship. The ship will carry you to a distant island—a tropical island where no people live.”

  “But, sir—” Deborah began to protest.

  “You are sentenced to live the rest of your life alone, Deborah Andersen!” Harrison’s voice rang out. “All alone on an island that no one else will ever visit. Alone, where you cannot harm anyone with your witchcraft.”

  Deborah reached out her hands to beg him to change his mind. But Harrison spun away from her. He and the two men with muskets strode away. The villagers followed, returning to the frozen ashes of their town.

  Deborah realized she was still gripping her mother’s hand. Katherine had a strange, distant smile on her face. A sad, joyless smile, Deborah realized.

  “They spared your life,” Katherine said softly.

  “But, Mother—” Deborah protested. “What kind of a life will I lead all alone forever on a distant, empty island? Must I really spend the rest of my life there? What can I do, Mother? What can I do?”

  Part Three

  A Tropical Island This Spring

  11

  April leaned on the deck railing of the boat and gazed out at the island. She saw tilting palm trees along the shore and behind them, green hills gleaming under the golden sunlight.

  It’s like make-believe, she thought. The gentle waves of pale, aqua water…the shimmering blue rocks on the shoreline…the small white cabins half-hidden in the tangled trees…

  Were those caves cut into the blue rocks? I’d love to go exploring in caves, April thought.

  She tugged at the red plastic earring dangling from her left ear. It’s like a movie set! She told herself. I can’t believe this is happening to me!

  The pilot gunned the motor, and the boat lifted up as it roared over the top of the water. A short wooden dock came into view. Small white motorboats bobbed in the water.

  April could see two people dressed in white shorts and T-shirts running along the shore to meet the boat. The kids on the deck behind her called out and waved to them.

  April turned to Kristen Wood and flashed her a thumbs-up.

  “We made it!” Kristen exclaimed in her hoarse, raspy voice.

  Three other Academy kids had come on the boat ride from the main island. April and Kristen had become instant friends.

  Kristen was short and wiry, a bundle of energy. She had raven black hair pulled back tight behind her head. Dark, round eyes. Intense eyes that seemed to stare right through you. And that funny hoarse voice.

  A girl named Martine was tall and blond and had a big, throaty laugh. She said she was an all-state swimmer back home in California. She hoped to spend a lot of time swimming around the island.

  The third kid was a red-haired boy named Anthony. April thought he seemed nervous, very tense and serious. He didn’t like to be teased about his freckles. And he didn’t join in any of their jokes. While the others hung out and enjoyed the sun, Anthony stayed down below and read a book.

  “I wonder if the famous people are here already,” April said. “Can you believe we’re going to hang out with movie stars, prizewinning scientists, and a Supreme Court justice?”

  Martine’s blond hair fluttered in the wind. “Maybe we’ll all be discovered and get big movie contracts,” she said.

  Kristen laughed. “Dream a lot?” she asked Martine.

  The pilot cut the motor, and the boat slowed, drifting to the dock. Two young men stood waiting to greet the boat. Their T-shirts had bold black type across the front: ACADEMY STAFF.

  The pilot tossed out the rope. One of the young men caught it and tied it to the pole.

  April’s heart started to race. I’m here, she thought. I’m actually here. This is going to be the most amazing two weeks of my life.

  “Hey, guys—how’s it going?” One of the young men leaned down and took Martine’s hand. He helped pull her onto the wood-planked deck. “Welcome to the Academy village. I’m Josh—and that ugly guy over there is Rick.”

  “Give me a break,” Rick muttered.

  April reached up her hand and Josh helped her out of the boat. He has a great smile, she thought.

  Josh was tanned and had olive green eyes and a thick mop of wavy, unbrushed black hair.

  Next, he helped pull Kristen up. Anthony insisted on climbing out without any help.

  “Two…three…four…” Rick pointed at the kids as he counted. He turned to Josh. “Hey, weren’t we expecting only three? How come there are four of you?”

  “One of us is a stowaway,” Kristen joked.

  Josh and Rick didn’t laugh. “This is definitely weird,” Josh said.

  Rick shrugged. “Whatever. We’ll let Marks sort it out.”

  “Donald Marks is our grand and glorious leader,” Josh announced. “That’s his royal castle over there.” He pointed to a white shack at the edge of the trees. “Rick and I are his humble slaves.”

  Rick gave Josh a playful shove. “Actually, Marks is a pretty good guy,” he said. “He put this whole thing together. He’s really impressive. You’ll see. You’re going to meet him now.”

  “What about our bags?” Anthony asked.

  “We slaves will unload them,” Josh replied. “When you get your team assignment, we’ll bring them around to your cabin.”

  Anthony frowned. “Team assignment? You mean we have to be on teams?”

  Josh nodded. “For the Life Games.”

  “Believe me, when the games begin, you’ll be glad to have teammates,” Rick said.

  Anthony doesn’t seem like much of a team player,
April thought. Maybe he’s just nervous. Like me. Just the same, I hope he isn’t on my team.

  She gazed around at the small village of shacks as Josh led them to Donald Marks. Several of them had thatched roofs of palm-tree leaves. A long, low building appeared to be a meeting hall.

  Four boys were tossing a Frisbee around in a sandy clearing between the rows of shacks. April saw two girls stretched out on beach towels, catching some rays.

  This is going to be like the best summer camp in the world! she thought.

  A hand-painted sign on the door to Marks’s office read BIG CHEESE. Josh pulled open the door and ushered April and the others inside.

  Marks sat behind a table piled high with papers and folders. He jumped to his feet as they entered, sending a stack of folders toppling over the table.

  “Welcome, welcome,” he said, clasping his hands in front of him.

  He’s a giant! April thought.

  Marks was so tall, he had to bend his head to keep from hitting the low ceiling. He had a huge head, round as a bowling ball and totally bald.

  He had tiny black eyes above a bulby nose, and the dark stubble of a beard just started. He was big and wide, April saw, broad-shouldered, with bulging biceps poking out from under his massive ACADEMY STAFF T-shirt.

  Like a wrestler, April thought. That’s what he reminds me of. One of those enormous wrestlers on TV.

  He welcomed them warmly, moving down the line of kids, shaking their hands. He has a wrestler’s grip too, April thought. Her hand throbbed after Marks was finished shaking it.

  “Well, we’re all here,” Marks said, beaming at them, his tiny eyes sparkling. “I know it was a long trip for you. But I think it will be worth it.”

  He began pawing through the papers on his desk. “You’re all probably eager to get unpacked and relax a bit. Let me find your assignments here….”

  He looked up. “You’re probably wondering why I don’t have all this stuff on a computer. Well…we built a small electric generator here on the island. But we have to be careful how much power we use. So—no computers.” He looked at Martine. “And no hair dryers.”