Free The Strangers by Jacqueline West Page B

said, breaking the silence. “But, for now, some of us need our sleep.” He gave Olive an authoritative nod. “Under the circumstances, I think the wisest course of action would be for Olive to leave this house. Delora and I will remain here, keeping watch, and Olive can stay with Mrs. Dewey. Can’t she, Lydia?”
    “Of course.” Mrs. Dewey squeezed Olive’s shoulder. “She can stay with us just as long as she likes.”
    With her body wedged tight against Mrs. Dewey’s squishy side, Olive’s mind sprang up and raced through the rooms of the old stone house. It climbed up and down staircases and peered through darkened doorways. It counted the treasures that waited everywhere: the painted entrances to Elsewhere, the odd antiques, the hidden attic, the secret tunnel beneath the basement. The strange old house itself.
    The cats would never abandon this place. Not if it stood here for centuries to come. And the people of Elsewhere, the always-painted and the once-alive, wouldn’t leave it either. They
couldn’t
leave.
    They needed her.
    “No,” said Olive.
    Doctor Widdecombe’s eyebrows went up. “What was that, Olive?”
    “No,” said Olive, more clearly. “I’m not leaving.”
    “Olive . . .” Delora’s worried eyes came to rest somewhere in the vicinity of Olive’s hairline. “I can sense that trouble will return.” Her gaze floated from Olive’s head toward the ceiling. “Yes,” she whispered. “Grave danger is coming to this place.”
    “It was already here,” said Olive.
    Doctor Widdecombe’s expression was gentle. “Olive, my dear, you must realize that three adults—one a green witch, one a gifted messenger, and one a world-renowned expert on dark magic—may be better able to handle this situation.”
    Walter cleared his throat.
    “Excuse me, Walter,” said Doctor Widdecombe. “
Four
adults.”
    “No,” said Olive. The vehemence in her voice made everyone give a little jump, including Olive herself. “This is my house, and I won’t leave it.”
    “Child—” Delora began, but Mrs. Dewey cut her off.
    “Olive has had enough trouble for one night,” she said. “I think she should get to do whatever would make her most comfortable.”
    “Then perhaps she will permit us to remain in the house with her.” Doctor Widdecombe looked down at Olive with genuine worry in his eyes. “She cannot stay here
alone.
”
    “I’m not alone,” said Olive. “I have the cats. And Morton.”
    “Let me stay,” Walter spoke up. “I’ll stand guard on the porch. And—mmm—I’ll alert everyone if anything happens.” He shoved his sleeves to the top of his spindly arms. The sleeves slid straight back down. “I mean, if I’m no good with magic, I can at least provide the muscle.”
    There was a snort. Everyone turned to look at Doctor Widdecombe, who pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and pretended to blow his nose.
    “What do you think, Olive?” asked Mrs. Dewey. “Would that be all right with you? Or would you like me and Rutherford to stay too?”
    Olive glanced around at the people encircling her like a sympathetic cage. She didn’t want anyone else taking charge of things—no matter who that
anyone else
was. This was
her
house. And what she wanted now was to be alone inside of it, to begin to make sense of everything that had happened without any other voices getting in the way.
    “Just Walter can stay,” she said. “And just on the porch.”
    Delora wavered at the foot of the staircase, her pale hands folded over her chest. “I fear for you, Olive,” she whispered, staring into the air above Olive’s head again. “This place will only bring you harm.”
    Doctor Widdecombe took Delora gently by the arm. Delora fell silent.
    “First thing tomorrow,” Doctor Widdecombe said, in a cheerier voice, “we’ll complete a search of the area, and then we will return to safeguard the house—if we haven’t already found your parents, that is,” he added. His eyes