Part 17 (1/2)

But she had turned nothing in at the end of the period.

Bettina was halfway through the stack of drawings when she suddenly jerked upright.

An instant later there was a crash from somewhere above, and Pyewackett dashed off to investigate.

But her reflex-the sudden contraction of every muscle in her body and the flush of adrenaline surging into her blood-had happened before before the crash. the crash.

Only an instant, but still, she felt the shock before she'd heard the sound.

How was that possible?

Pulling her cardigan closer around her, she started after Pyewackett, then hesitated. Maybe she should call the police, then wait right where she was until- Until what? What was she going to tell the police? That the house didn't feel right and that she'd heard a crash from upstairs like something falling? She lived with five animals, and everyone in town knew it-was she expecting them to come out and investigate a broken vase simply because she was too frightened of her own house to do it herself?

Besides, if something was truly amiss-if someone was in the house-both Cooper and Rocky would be barking their heads off.

Rocky!

Of course-that was it. Rocky-who had turned out to be even clumsier than Cooper on his worst day-had probably tried to jump up on her bed and succeeded only in hitting the nightstand.

Still, before she went upstairs to investigate, she went back to the kitchen, where Cooper was still at his post by the bas.e.m.e.nt door. ”Come on, Coop-let's go see what Rocky's gotten into now.”

The big dog didn't move.

”Please?”

Cooper hesitated, casting one more suspicious look at the bas.e.m.e.nt door, but then rose to his feet and followed Bettina to the foot of the stairs. But instead of bounding ahead of her as he usually did, this evening the dog lagged behind, staying a step or two back and seeming ready to change his mind when they reached the landing.

Had he heard something?

Bettina paused, too, and listened.

Nothing.

Nothing except a tendril of cold air that seemed to be wafting down from above, bringing with it a chill that made her skin crawl and brought a low growl to Cooper's throat. ”Come on!” Bettina demanded, but wondering even as she issued the command whether she was directing it at the dog or herself.

She mounted the second half of the flight, but now there was something else: the air smelled dank and musty.

Like the bas.e.m.e.nt.

Bettina's heart began to hammer in her chest. What was it? What was going on? ”A window must be broken,” she whispered out loud. The words didn't even sound convincing to herself.

At the top of the stairs, Forlorn, the gray tabby with one ear and no tail, and an expression that had given him his name the moment Bettina first saw him, sat staring at one of the walls with such intensity that she involuntarily followed his gaze.

Again, nothing.

Just a blank wall, unadorned with anything that might have caught the cat's attention. She scooped him up and held his warm body close, but even the cat's heat couldn't penetrate the cold that filled the long corridor.

None of the doors were open.

And two of the animals were still missing.

She started down the corridor, listening at every door before she opened it, then reaching in to switch on a light before pus.h.i.+ng the door wide.

All the rooms were empty.

Nothing seemed to be wrong.

And yet nothing felt right.

She had just pulled the door to the blue bedroom closed when the silence of the house was shattered by Rocky's yapping bark, and a second later the little terrier came running down the stairs from the third floor. Charging down the corridor, he hurled himself into Bettina's arms, nearly knocking her over, and garnering a furious hiss from Forlorn.

”What is it?” Bettina demanded as she put the dog back on the floor. ”What did you do?”

Rocky only tried to scramble back into her arms.

The temperature in the hallway seemed to drop even further, and the musty smell grew stronger.

Then, as Bettina watched, the last door on the right swung slowly inward, its hinges creaking.

Cooper's body stiffened and he pressed up against Bettina's legs.

A whimper emerged from Rocky's throat as Forlorn uttered a low hiss.

A terrible fear began to engulf Bettina, a terror that seemed to emanate from the room whose door was still creaking open.

Her mouth went dry. She wanted to turn and bolt back down the stairs, flee the house and go- Go where?

Anywhere! She wanted to be anywhere but here, with the house feeling all wrong and the animals behaving as they never had before and doors opening by themselves and- And then suddenly Houdini, the ancient-and stone-deaf-white cat who had been living with Bettina for almost twenty years, emerged from the room at the end of the hall.

And Pyewackett was right behind him.

Suddenly, with all the animals back around her, the spell seemed broken.

The house felt almost back to normal, except for the strange smell. Dropping Forlorn to the floor to join the rest of the menagerie, Bettina strode down the wide hallway to the last door, reached in to switch the chandelier on, then looked around.

Inside, a lamp lay broken on the floor-a big, ugly, old midcentury TV lamp in the form of a leaping wolf whose eyes glowed when it was turned on. Bettina had been terrified of it as a child and hated it as an adult.

Well, it was gone now, and good for Houdini for having finally smashed it!

Mystery solved.

She switched off the light and pulled the door closed, shutting off the musty odor. She'd clean up the broken lamp and air out the room over the weekend.

It wasn't until she was back downstairs and in the kitchen that she wondered how Houdini-and Pyewackett, too-had gotten into that room in the first place. Even she hadn't been inside it in years. Too many years, actually, given the smell that had built up in it.

On the other hand, getting into closed s.p.a.ces was what Houdini had always specialized in, which was exactly how he'd gotten his name.