I rolled across the car seat and smacked into Sarah’s silk-covered leg. Gerald hit her a second later and Iris a second after that. Another swerve sent us tumbling back the other direction.
“For goodness sake, Marie,” said Sarah. “Slow down.”
Marie gripped one side of the steering wheel. “No time for that.”
“I’m certain their parents wouldn’t want them to get killed on the way back to Whipplethorn.” Sarah scooped all of us up and cradled us in her cupped hands.
“They’ll be fine. They’re tough. Aren’t you tough?” asked Marie.
“I feel sick,” said Iris.
“I’m tough,” said Gerald, turning a violent shade of green and falling over.
“Please slow down.” I flew off of Sarah’s hand and hovered between the two old ladies. “We’re not used to driving.”
“Sorry. You wanted to go home and I only have two speeds. Stop and fast,” said Marie.
Gerald struggled to the edge of Sarah’s palm. “Stop is not a speed.”
Marie gave him a flinty look. “Smart aleck, are we?” She grabbed a long black lever next to her right knee and shoved it with a violent thrust.
Sarah started looking a bit green herself. “I knew I never should’ve let you buy this car. It’s like giving a rocket to a pyromaniac.”
“Let me? Let me?” Marie wrenched the wheel to the right and I bounced off her cheek. “Since when does anyone let me do anything? This is my dream car. Why shouldn’t I have it?”
“I thought that Jaguar was your dream car,” said Sarah.
“I thought so, too, but it was a mite stodgy for me. This is more my speed.”
“Don’t all cars go fast?” I asked, landing on the flat area in front of the wheel.
“Not fast like this one. This is a Shelby Cobra. It does zero to sixty in four seconds.”
Marie’s right leg pressed down and we shot forward. I almost fell off the edge of the ledge.
“How are the babies back there?” I yelled.
Tess’s head peeked up over the back of Sarah’s black leather seat. She held up a small white box filled with cotton batting. The babies lazed on the batting and nibbled on a raisin. “They’re fine. It’s a good thing Gram thought of this box, though.”
Tess’s head disappeared and Judd’s popped up from the other side of the back seat. “This Mustang is awesome. Miss Marie, can I drive it when I get old enough?”
“I’ll teach you to drive.” Marie grinned. Despite the silver hair and glasses she looked positively wicked.
“Oh, yes,” said Sarah. “That’s just what we need.”
“Glad you agree,” said Marie.
“How is it that they took away my license,” said Sarah, “and you still have yours?”
“Because I was smart enough to get mine in Arizona. It doesn’t expire for another eleven years,” said Marie.
“Heaven help us.”
“Hold on!” shouted Marie. “Gravel road.”
I managed to grab the edge of the shelf before Marie hit the brakes. For a second all I could hear was the humans screaming as we skidded to a halt. Grey billowing dust surrounded the car and then everyone became quiet.
“Are we there?” asked Judd.
I staggered to my feet and pressed my face to the glass. The dust cleared, revealing a narrow road winding away from us through a dense forest. “Almost.”
Sarah set Gerald and Iris on her lap and looked at a flat grey box. “It says we have to drive up this road for two miles.”
“That didn’t take as long as I thought,” said Marie.
“No kidding,” said Gerald. “We must’ve been going a hundred miles an hour.”
“One hundred five, smarty pants,” said Marie. “Hold on to your hats.”
“Saints preserve us,” shouted Sarah.
“Calm down, old lady.”
“Old lady? You’re an old lady, too, or have you forgotten? You should be driving an Oldsmobile.”
“Oldsmobile? Car and Driver said they stink,” said Marie.
“You rock, Miss Marie,” said Judd.
“I do indeed rock, young man. And I will teach you to drive.”
“Awesome.”
Sarah dropped the flat box. “Please, Marie. Rebecca will never forgive me if something happens to these kids.”
“Nothing’s going to happen. Not on the gravel anyway. Do you really think I’d risk dinging my paint job?”
“I wish it were gravel all the way then,” said Iris.
Marie winked at Iris and drove onto the gravel road. I watched as the trees went by and admired the fall colors that had come out strongly in the days since we’d been gone. Yellows shone more brightly than I remembered. The burnished reds deeper and more beautiful.
I waved to Iris and Gerald. Iris waved back, but Gerald stared straight ahead. I watched him for a moment and then turned back to the road, holding my breath and waiting for Whipplethorn Manor to come into view. But it didn’t. Marie drove up into a little clearing and parked next to an enormous bare spot surrounded by piles of scrap wood and a scattering of slate tiles.
“Oh, no,” said Sarah.
Iris flew up. “What is it?” She spun around frantically, looking out the windows. “Where is it?”
“It’s gone,” said Sarah. “We’re too late.”
Gerald buried his face in his hands. Iris hovered above Gerald, her face blank. “What do you mean ‘gone’?”
I held out my arms to Iris, but my little sister darted past me. She ran over the shelf and put her hands against the glass. My face got all tingly and hot. Whipplethorn Manor was gone. Nothing was left except a few moldy scraps of wood and rubble.
It made sense. The humans were taking all the beautiful woodwork, everything of value. Of course they would knock down the old, decrepit building. Despite the logic of it, I expected Whipplethorn to still be there, standing stately against the pines of the dark forest. Now nothing would be the same ever again.
Iris turned. Tears streamed down her face, rivers of pain. “What happened to Mom and Dad?”
“Out looking for us, I expect.” I gathered Iris into my arms and let her sob against my shoulder.
“May as well get out,” said Marie. “Someone might be left.”
Sarah opened her door and waved us out. Iris went first. Her wing beats slow. I expected her to drop to the ground immediately, but instead she fluttered over to the bare spot and landed in the dirt. I followed, dimly aware of the humans coming up behind us. The air teased me with its familiar smells. The pine trees somehow managed to smell both sticky and green. A blustery wind kicked up the dirt. It pelted against Iris, but she didn’t acknowledge it. She stood in the bare patch with shaking shoulders.
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
“Did you know?” asked Iris.
“No, but it makes sense that they were going to tear it down.”
“Maybe if we got back sooner.”
“It wouldn’t have made any difference. We just would’ve seen it happening. I’m glad we weren’t here.”
“Me, too, I guess.”
Tess walked past them, holding the little white box. “Fairies. Are you still here? We have your kids. Come out.”
Iris lifted her head. “Don’t bother. If they were here, they would already have heard us and come out.”
“Why don’t you listen and see if you can hear them?” said Sarah.
Iris and Gerald closed their eyes and listened. After a few minutes, a tear slipped down Iris’s cheek.
“No one’s here,” she said.
Gerald nodded and put his arm around Iris’s shoulder. “We’ll find them.”
“We may as well go.” Marie straightened her hat as she glanced at the bare spot. “No use crying over spilt milk. We’ll find your parents. They’re just not here is all.”
“Does that mean you’ll drive at a reasonable speed on the way home?” asked Sarah.
“Not hardly.” Marie snorted.
We stood together, huddling in the middle of the bare spot. Tess’s face was fixed in a furious pout. At first, I thought she was angry, but then I saw Tess trembling. Sarah had her arm around her great-granddaughter, her face ashen, her red lips a slash of color in a dreary portrait.
“Don’t look so upset,” said Gerald. “This only means they’ve gone looking for us. Isn’t that right, Matilda?”
“Absolutely,” I said.
“That’s the spirit,” said Marie. “Speaking of spirits, I could use a drink. Let’s go find a liquor store. A disappointment this great calls for vodka and cranberry juice.”
Sarah smiled. “Oh Marie, you are bad.”
“Thank you, my dear. Let’s hit it.”
CHAPTER 24