Free Blackbriar by William Sleator Page A

as if he weren’t seeing her, or the library, but was gazing off into some other distant world.
    “What is it that’s so fascinating, then?” she asked. “ The South County Gazette , October, 1935? Sounds deadly dull to me. What on earth could there be of possible interest in that ? But we’ve got to hurry. I’ve left Lil in a no-parking zone and Islington’s inside, and . . .” Her words faded as she noticed that his expression did not change. “My dear,” she said softly, laying her hand on his shoulder, “what’s wrong?”
    “Oh, nothing, really,” he said, wriggling his shoulder uncomfortably. His eyes were finally focused on her face. “Yes, let’s get out of here. I’ve got to put these away. I’ll hurry.” He pushed back the chair and stood up.
    Philippa glanced briefly around the library, and said, “I’d better go wait in the car. But do be quick, we’ve still got to stop at the egg lady’s and I’d like to get back up the hill before dark.” As she hurried away Danny put back the heavy volumes he had been using. Then, almost staggering with the weight of all the books he had withdrawn, he descended the library steps to the car.

9
    Danny set the books down in the back of the car and slid in next to Philippa. He put a folded blanket over his legs and reluctantly drew Islington onto his lap.
    “Have a currant bun, darling,” Philippa said as they started off. “They’re nice and hot.”
    “No thanks,” Danny murmured absently.
    “Oh, do have one, I’m sure they’re very good. And you’re looking rather peaked. Come on, dear.”
    “But I don’t want one. I’m not hungry.”
    “After I went to all that trouble to buy them for you, you capriciously decide you’re not hungry. That’s what I call—”
    “Oh, all right.”
    As soon as he had taken one from the waxed bag by his side, Philippa reached in herself, and ate a bun quickly as she drove. They went back down the main street and left the town through the same gate in the city wall. The cold winter light was beginning to die, and the countryside took on the aura of magic and melancholy that only winter twilight can give. The car seemed a very small thing in a cold, windy universe of dark orange sky and golden hills.
    “I was trying to find something about Blackbriar,” Danny said quietly. “That’s why I was reading those newspapers.”
    “No wonder you were so interested! That must mean you did find something. What a relief, after all the double-talk we’ve been getting. I found nothing new, of course,” and she described what had happened in the hardware store. “What he said made me feel as though there were something wrong with me , as though somehow, there was something evil about the house, and I was part of it. It was so infuriating that I couldn’t bear to mention a thing to anyone else,” she finished. “It would have driven me up the wall to have the same thing happen another time.”
    “I’m afraid the people around here just aren’t going to tell us anything,” Danny said, and told her what the librarian had said.
    “Mmmm,” said Philippa, “but when are you going to tell me what you found out? Does it make any sense of all this?”
    “It sort of does. I mean, it begins to explain it in a way. It was just a little article, about what Blackbriar used to be used for . . .”
    “Well? Come on, darling, stop mumbling. What was it? Are you afraid to tell me?”
    “No! It’s just kind of surprising, that’s all. It’s just that . . . well . . . Blackbriar was a pesthouse.”
    The car came to a gravelly halt. They had stopped at the egg lady’s gate. Philippa switched off the motor and suddenly they could hear the wind, making dry, creaking noises in the trees. “A pesthouse?” Philippa said. “Can’t you be more specific?”
    “Oh, yes,” he said, “the article was very clear, as far as it went.” The wind was streaming into every crack and crevice in the car and he could hardly keep