The Servants of Twilight

THE SERVANTS OF TWILIGHT

PART ONE: THE HAG

An' all us other children, when

the supper things is done,

We sit around the kitchen fire

an' has the mostest fun

A-list-nin' to the witch-tales

that Annie tells about,

An' the Gobble'uns that gits you

If you Don't Watch Out!

— Little Orphant Annie

James Whitcomb Riley

…the Dust Witch came, mumbling. A moment later, looking up,

Will saw her. Not dead! He thought. Carried off, bruised, falles,

yes, but now back, and mad! Lord, yes, mad, looking especially for me!

— Something Wicked This Way Comes

Ray Bradbury

1

It began in sunshine, not on a dark and stormy night.

She wasn't prepared for what happened, wasn't on guard. Who would have expected trouble on a lovely Sunday afternoon like that?

The sky was clear and blue. It was surprisingly warm, for the end of February, even in southern California. The breeze was gentle and scented with winter flowers. It was one of those days when everyone seemed destined to live forever.

Christine Scavello had gone to South Coast Plaza in Costa Mesa to do some shopping, and she had taken Joey with her. He liked the big mall.

He was fascinated by the stream that splashed through one wing of the building, down the middle of the public promenade and over a gentle waterfall. He was also intrigued by the hundreds of trees and plants that thrived indoors, and he was a born people-watcher. But most of all he liked the carousel in the central courtyard. In return for one ride on the carousel, he would tag along happily and quietly while Christine spent two or three hours shopping.

Joey was a good kid, the best. He never whined, never threw tantrums or complained. Trapped in the house on a long, rainy day, he could entertain himself for hour after hour and not once grow bored or restless or crabby the way most kids would.

To Christine, Joey sometimes seemed to be a little old man in a six-year-old boy's small body. Occasionally he said the most amazingly grown-up things, and he usually had the patience of an adult, and he was often wiser than his years.

But at other times, especially when he asked where his daddy was or why his daddy had gone away-or even when he didn't ask but just stood there with the question shimmering in his eyes-he looked so innocent, fragile, so heartbreakingly vulnerable that she just had to grab him and hug him.

Sometimes the hugging wasn't merely an expression of her love for him, but also an evasion of the issue that he had raised.

She had never found a way to tell him about his father, and it was a subject she wished he would just drop until she was ready to bring it up. He was too young to understand the truth, and she didn't want to lie to him-not too blatantly, anyway-or resort to cutesy euphemisms.

He had asked about his father just a couple of hours ago, on the way to the mall. She had said, "Honey, your daddy just wasn't ready for the responsibility of a family."

"Didn't he like me?"

"He never even knew you, so how could he not like you? He was gone before you were born."

"Oh, yeah? How could I have been borned if he wasn't here?"

the boy had asked skeptically.

"That's something you'll learn in sex education class at school," she had said, amused.

"When? "

"Oh, in about six or seven more years, I guess."

"That's a long time to wait." He had sighed." I'll bet he didn't like me and that's why he went away."

Frowning, she had said, "You put that thought right out of your mind, sugar. It was me your daddy didn't like."

"You? He didn't like you?"

"That's right."

Joey had been silent for a block or two, but finally he had said, "Boy, if he didn't like you, he musta been just plain dumb."

Then, apparently sensing that the subject made her uneasy, he had changed it. A little old man in a six-year-old boy's small body.