The Children on the Hill(63)

Eric was telling them that he’d found some footprints down by the creek: footprints that definitely weren’t theirs. “I think it’s the Ghoul. When I saw him, he had these big boots that looked like they had fur on them. Like animal skin.”

He was leading them through the woods, followed by Vi and then Iris last. Vi kept turning back to look at her, but Iris’s eyes wouldn’t meet hers. They were focused on the ground.

Crunch, crunch, crunch went their feet through old leaves, twigs. They stumbled and shuffled their way forward, crushing ferns, tripping over roots and stones.

Eric was swinging the light, scanning, always lighting the way up ahead to make sure it was safe, that the Ghoul wasn’t there, waiting for them with sharp teeth and claws.

They heard the creek before they saw it, and soon they were right by the bank. In the spring it ran deeper and faster, but at this time of year it was barely a foot in the deepest places. Some years it stopped running altogether by midsummer.

The water was black and sparkling under the beam from Eric’s flashlight.

He looked down, shone the beam around in the mud along the edge until he found the strange footprints. “See, they’re not ours. These come from boots with a smooth sole. It’s the Ghoul.”

Vi stepped forward to look at the prints. They were too big to be Gran’s. Too small for Old Mac. Who else would come back here?

Eric looked up, shone his light in Vi’s face, blinding her. She put her hand up to shield her eyes.

“Eric!” she scolded. “Quit it.”

He pointed the beam of light all around her, scanning the trees. “Where’s Iris?”

Vi turned to look. “She was right here just a second ago.”

But now she was gone.

Eric’s eyes got huge. “Do you think…” He lowered his voice. “Do you think the Ghoul got her?”

“Iris?” Vi called.

Nothing.

Only the sound of the creek.

“We’ve got to find her,” Vi said.

Eric nodded, still sweeping the area around him with the light. “Iris?” he called, voice squeaky and soft.

They held still, listening.

Vi heard a cracking sound, a branch breaking, from over her right shoulder.

“This way,” she said, moving in the direction of the sound. She called out to Iris again, shouting as loud as she could. The trees got thick and closer together as they moved deeper into the woods. She felt everything closing in around her, like a hand tightening its grip.

She heard someone running up ahead.

What if that isn’t Iris? she wondered. What if they were really chasing Eric’s Ghoul? What if they were heading right into a trap?

She remembered his drawing: the pale face, dark eyes, and black hood.

She pictured those dark eyes staring back at her, black as a starless night sky.

Up ahead, she caught sight of a shadow moving through the trees.

“Iris?” she called.

A branch snapped. Then another.

A grunting cry from up ahead.

“It’s not her,” Eric said from just behind her. “It’s the Ghoul!”

He was moving the flashlight through the trees, but Vi didn’t see anything at all.

Then the light caught on a pale face with a dark hood.

Eric yelped.

But this was no ghoul.

It was a girl in a black hooded sweatshirt. Vi’s sweatshirt. Vi’s twin. Iris was standing beside a tree, a ghostly white paper birch.

“Iris,” Vi called. “What are you doing?”

“Go away,” Iris said, her voice a twisted snarl. “Leave me alone.”

“No,” Vi said, moving closer, stepping slowly.

And Iris leaned down, picked up a baseball-sized rock, and threw it at Vi.

She was so surprised, she didn’t have time to duck, and the rock caught her on the chin, sending her reeling, her jaw exploding with pain. She fell back on the ground.

“I said, leave me alone!” Iris screamed.

Eric hurried to Vi, dropped to his knees. “Vi?” he said, voice high and squeaky. “You’re bleeding, Vi! Oh, crap. Crap.”

“I’m okay,” she said, sitting up, rubbing at her chin. The rock had barely grazed her. An inch or two up and it might have broken her jaw, cracked her teeth. She got back on her feet, brushing past Eric and moving toward Iris, who was crouched down now, hands wrapped around her knees. And the sounds she was making—deep-throated growls and sobs—were more animal than human. Vi took a slow step forward, hands limp at her sides, trying to look as unthreatening as possible.

“Iris,” Vi said, making her voice low and soothing, trying to keep all the panic she was feeling out of it. “It’s okay. We want to help you.”

Iris stood, and Vi saw she had another rock in her hand. She stepped toward Vi.

“Iris, I—”

Iris swung at Vi, but Vi caught her arm, pushed it back, twisted it until Iris let out a cry of pain and dropped the rock.

Vi was bigger, stronger, but Iris was fueled by a mad rage. She thrust back, surprising Vi with her strength, nearly knocking her off-balance.

The two of them struggled in a strange dance.

“Stop it!” Eric screamed, skittering beside them helplessly, shining his light on their faces, in their eyes. “Please, stop it!”