Midnight Crossroad

22

Fiji stood on her porch for a minute in the chilly night air, admiring the moonlight and the peace of the night. It felt good after the stuffiness of the store with all the witch-wannabes crowded inside, all their chatter and busyness.

She was a little disappointed in Manfred’s negative reaction. He’d definitely had a real vision there tonight, no matter how superior he tried to act. “Self-righteous idiot,” Fiji muttered as she locked her front door, but she was not truly angry. She hadn’t really expected an enthusiastic participation. Nonetheless, she admitted to herself that she would have been happy to have an older witch around, someone she could talk to about how Manfred’s opinion made her feel.

She decided she would think about it the next day, when she was rested . . . and calm. As she turned off lights in the big front room, her thoughts moved from one troubling topic to another. When she’d been down at the Antique Gallery and Nail Salon to look at a small round table Joe had thought might interest her, Joe had told her that the Rev had preached at Home Cookin on Tuesday night. The Rev preached when he was worried. When the Rev was worried, there was cause for concern.

Mr. Snuggly came in the cat flap in the back door after Fiji had put on her nightgown and brushed her teeth. He ran into the room as she pulled down the sheets.

“He got home okay?” she asked the cat. Mr. Snuggly stared up at her without expression . . . naturally. “Of course he did,” Fiji answered herself. “Or you’d have come in a lot quicker. Well, let’s turn in, Snug. It’s been a long day.” The room was furnished with her great-aunt’s bedroom set, though Fiji had stripped the wood of its chipped varnish and painted it sky blue. The walls were painted white, and the throw rugs on the floor were bright and colorful. It was a cheerful room, and Fiji was always glad when the time came for her to sleep in it. She went through her usual nighttime routine before climbing onto the high bed, pulling up the covers to relax with a clean face and a fairly clear conscience. Mr. Snuggly jumped up to curl at her side. Fiji fell asleep with her fingers in the cat’s fur.

She remained asleep two hours later when something big brushed up against the outside of the house. Mr. Snuggly was awake, though, his golden eyes wide and unblinking as they followed the progress of the creature on the other side of the wall. When it paused outside Fiji’s window, Mr. Snuggly hissed, his ears flattened back on his head. But after a few seconds, the cat heard huge feet padding away. Mr. Snuggly lay awake for a few minutes, staring into the darkness, to see if the creature would return. When it did not, he put his head down on his paws and slid back into sleep.

The same creature visited every inhabited house in Midnight, sniffing at the air, inspecting the doors and windows. It spent the longest time giving its attention to the trailer in which Madonna and Teacher lived with their baby. There, it rumbled, deep in its throat. But no one woke.