In the Shadows

syrup, all false sweetness.

“Shut up,” Cora snapped. It was the most spirit Minnie had

seen from her in ages, and only proved to Minnie that this whole

excursion was a grand idea.

“She never leaves,” Minnie whispered as they crept up the hill,

Charles and Thomas next to her, Arthur drifting back with Cora.

“She’s lived here for as long as anyone can remember, though no

one has ever actually spoken with her. No one . . . except Cora.”

She glanced over her shoulder to see Arthur whispering intently in

Cora’s ear, both of them yards behind now and out of hearing

range. Minnie wanted to win over Thomas as much as she had

Charles, even if he was stuffy. So she only felt mildly wicked as she

fed them an exaggerated horror even she didn’t believe. “The witch

nearly killed my sister, and she sent her familiars out that night to

steal the rest of Cora’s soul. But familiars are blind, and when they

got to our house, they took my father’s soul instead.”

Charles looked delighted by the tale, and Minnie scowled. It

was not the reaction she had been hoping for. She opened her

mouth to try something scarier, but another set of sounds inter-

rupted the air. They all stopped, holding their breath to listen.

“Is that — that’s ragtime!” Thomas said, stopping in

amazement.

“ ‘Maple Leaf Rag’! She must have a phonograph!” Charles

said. “You thought no one would have one here. Apparently Min-

nie and Cora’s reclusive witch has excellent taste in music.”

As one, the three in the lead moved toward the nearest lit win-

dow, slinking low to the ground beneath the sill. Cora and Arthur

followed.

“I get first peek,” Minnie whispered.

“Guest rules.” Charles grinned at her. “I should get first.”