A Wizard Comes Calling (Deidra Ann Adventures Book 2) - Teter Keyes

A Wizard Comes Calling (Deidra Ann Adventures Book 2) by Teter Keyes

Book excerpt

My name is Deidra Ann Williams. I'm thirteen years old. I never met my momma and don't know anything about my daddy. I live with Granny, Uncle Billy, and Aunt Willa in a house at the edge of a mysterious forest. I know what lives in the woods because last summer, I ventured in to find my schoolmate. Ordinary folks would never believe what I saw there.

Today is February twenty-nine, this being a leap year. Riding on the school bus toward home, the air feels heavy and ominous, like just before a bad thunderstorm. But when I look outside the school bus window, the sky is blue and clear all the way up to heaven.

Still, this heavy bad feeling gets stronger the closer I get to home. It wraps around me like one of Granny's crocheted afghans.

"Bye, for now, Miss Deidra," the bus driver tells me, all cheery and the like. I'm the last stop on the route and expect Mr. Bailey is happy to let me off, so he can turn around for home.

I watch him carefully as I walk down the aisle to the folding door at the front of the bus. He looks the same as always. Does that mean he doesn't have the same feeling that a bad storm is on the way that I do? I'm guessing not. I give him a little wave and, with heavy feet, start up the walkway to Granny's house.

It doesn't really surprise me that Mr. Bailey doesn't feel what I do. Town folks whisper that my granny and her kin are witches. In a way, they're right.

These gossips are the same ones who make their way to our door, asking for help with disobedient families, money troubles, broken hearts, and such. Not that they would ever admit this to their neighbors. Granny fixes them up real nice with words, herbs, and potions. In return, they bring us eggs, cured hams, fresh-baked bread, and jars of jams and jellies in every color.

The closer I get to the house, the more the very ground tries to bind my shoes to it.

Clomp, clomp, I go up the walk, gravity pushing against me so hard it feels like my body is getting squatty.

Finally, I reach my hand out for the doorknob. My arm feels like it weighs a ton. I turn the knob, lose my balance, and go tumbling inside. Whatever had been pressing down on me is gone, and now I feel weightless. What the heck?

Aunt Willa is there, sitting on the couch and doing some knitting, looking all so normal that I think I must have imagined the feeling.

She turns to me and asks, "How was your day?"

Normal, like I said.

"The same." I shrug, intending to forget what happened. Then I reconsider. Willa is watching me like she's 'xpecting me to say more. Odd, especially since I'm sure she didn't venture out today.

Here's the thing about my auntie. Something real bad happened to her before I was born. What that was, I don't know since everyone thinks I'm too little to be told such things. Hello, I'm thirteen now.

Willa fled to the safety of Granny's house, new husband in tow. Uncle Billy, seeing how things were to be, built a cottage for them up the rise and connected the two houses with a passthrough.

"Well?" Willa asks, having paused in the knitting.

"I… I, well, it feels strange-like out there," I bumble out. "I must have just imagined it 'cause I'm fine now."

"Like something powerful bad is smashing against the horizon?"

"Something like that," I admit.

"It tried creeping in here, too, but I don't cotton to that sort of thing sneaking in like a mouse thinking it's gonna grab a nibble."

I think about that for a while. Before last summer, I wouldn't have believed my aunt had witching skills like Granny. But being lost in the woods looking for my classmate, Jenny, had changed my thinking.

"Where's Granny?" I ask, turning my mind in a different direction.

"She's on the phone."

"Who with?"

"She didn't say, and don't you go bothering her."

I circle back to what Aunt Willa had said. "Something bad is gonna happen? What?"

Willa smooths back her hair, tucking the stray strands back into the bun she always puts her hair in. As she does, I notice a few more silver ones that catch the light in the dark hair.

"Can't tell yet."

I think about that. Is that why Granny is on the phone?

Willa folds what she's been knitting, pokes the needles into it, and tucks it all into a basket with her yarn balls.

"Come on now, Missy. Best we be getting supper on. Billy'll be home soon enough."

Uncle Billy works at the sawmill. He's my favorite uncle, not that I have others. Even if I did, he'd still be my favorite. Billy is handsome, and he makes me laugh. Sometimes when he comes home, he has sawdust in his hair, making it look like he's been sprinkled with pixie dust.

There's stew meat simmering on the stove. Its deliciousness fills the air and makes my tummy growl when I go into the kitchen.

"Peel those potatoes," Willa tells me, pointing to a pile on the countertop. "There's carrots need chopping in the 'fridgerator too. When you're done, bring up a jar of green beans from the cellar. I'll get a-going on the biscuits."

Granny comes into the kitchen, having finished with the call. She's frowning.

"It feels real bad outside," I tell her. "Started on the bus ride home."

"I know, child. I've been trying to spot it out."

We're mostly done with the supper fixin', and it's getting toward dusk when Uncle Billy parks his truck in the spot beside the picket fence.

"Home," he announces when he comes through the kitchen door.

The three of us freeze as wisps of pending doom enter the house with him. They swirl like fog through the kitchen.

My uncle is usually grinning. He normally tosses his cap to land—most of the time—atop a hook on the coat bar beside the door, sweeps up my aunt, and lands a loud smooch right on her lips.

Today, he cautiously hangs up his cap like he's afraid that missing the hook will bring down a boatload of bad luck. Instead of his usual grin, his face is grim.

"What is it?" Granny asks.

Aunt Willa says nothing as the wisps of wrongness still float around the room, making her pale with the worry.

Uncle Billy runs a hand through his hair, sawdust falling onto his shoulders.

"Old Mr. Sumner's family sold the mill."

Willa clasps her hands over her mouth and sinks onto a kitchen chair.

"Who?" I ask.

"Couple outsiders named Ben Minor and Ralph Shaw."

"When did this take place?" Willa asks.

"Not sure, but they told us all today, late afternoon."

That would have been about the same time that looming bad thunderstorm feeling came over me on the ride home.

Billy goes to where Willa sits and starts rubbing her shoulders. He continues, "They gathered the mill workers up and made the announcement. Expect by now the lumberman and haulers in the field know it too."

When I look over at Granny, she doesn't seem surprised. I figure that was what the phone call was all about.

It doesn't seem like such bad news. Sure, the Sumner family has been running the sawmill business for a long time, but that doesn't explain why it feels so wrong.

Then Billy adds, "Rumor has it Minor and Shaw have been eyeing our woods. All that old-growth timber, they're likely seeing buckets of dollar bills."

That explains it. Old Mr. Sumner and his family had sworn off cutting down the trees in the woods behind the house. Uncle Billy said that decision was made long ago after bad accidents had befallen those trying to cut trees at the town edge of the haunted woods. Saws sprang back and injured the timbermen. Trucks with logging trailers slid off the road or stopped running altogether. A couple of loggers strolled into the trees to survey the area, never to be seen again. Others said they had spotted demons in the thick forest and refused to work.

"I see a bad storm coming," Granny declares.