Free The Witch by Mary Ann Mitchell Page A

you ever see the uglies do bad things?”
    “They fought among themselves a lot, and Mom would have to quiet them down.”
    “Why did she want them around?”
    “She said one day they would serve a purpose, but she didn’t tell me what the purpose was. She wanted me to touch them and talk to them, but they’re too ugly and nasty.”
    “Do you want me to take the box away?”
    “No! Momma would be mad. She likes having them near her.”
    “But she’s not here anymore, Stephen. If you’re afraid of the box we can throw it away. We can even throw it into the furnace.”
    Molly felt the images on the box turn to sludge. The box fell to the floor. Stephen walked past Molly and found a candle lying near a leg of the table. He brought the candle to her and asked her to light it.
    “I don’t have any matches.”
    “Lift the lid of the box.”
    The images looked frozen on the box, but she hesitated, recalling the ooze that had dampened her fingers a short while ago. Bravely she reached down and lifted the lid, spying a set of matches inside. She removed one and struck it on the underbelly of the box. Stephen lit his candle and knelt next to the box. He paused to look up at Molly before lowering the candle to the box. He allowed several drops of melted wax to fall on a blackish snake. The color blackened to a shine and the snake throbbed and twisted until it finally fell from the box.
    Molly let out a sharp yelp.
    “He can’t do very much, Molly. He’s slow and doesn’t have wings or legs, so he can’t go far.”
    The snake flexed its body, obviously enjoying the longed-for freedom. It raised its head, and two tiny fangs slid out of its mouth.
    “Is he poisonous, Stephen?”
    Stephen shrugged.
    The snake inched its way toward Molly.
    “Stick him back on the box, Stephen.”
    He reached for the back end of the snake.
    “Don’t let him bite you,” she warned.
    “He won’t bite me, Molly.” Stephen lifted the snake and slipped him back inside the box before closing the lid.
    “Why didn’t you attach it to the box?”
    “He can’t get out. He’s the weakest of the uglies. He’ll complain, but that’s all.”
    Molly heard the faint sound of a snake hiss.
    “Pick up the box, Molly, and put it back on the table. We should go upstairs before Dad comes home.”
    Molly visualized the snake slithering around inside the box, and her fingers tingled with the thought of how the box had last felt while in her hands.
    “Maybe we can just—”
    “Momma always said that equipment must always be stored in its proper place, Molly. Don’t make Momma mad.”
    Goose bumps broke out on Molly’s flesh before she could remind Stephen that Momma didn’t live here now. But did Stephen’s mother still prowl the house?
    Molly’s fingers touched only the edges of the box when she returned it to the table. She turned to see a small face, half-shadow, half-frightened little boy, standing behind her. She bent to blow out the candle he still held in his hand. He let out a big sigh and placed the candle on the table.
    “Momma doesn’t want us down here.”
    “You mean she doesn’t want me down here.”
    “Why don’t Dad and Momma like you? I do.” Stephen’s quizzical expression melted Molly’s heart.

Chapter
19
    “He’s free. He’s free, I tell you. I saw him fall to the floor but a few feet from the harlot.”
    “Then why isn’t she dead?” a deep voice asked. “It’s the child. He protected her. Stupid child. Weak child.”
    “What can we do if he won’t free us?” asked a whiny voice
.
    “She promises us that he will come round, but he doesn’t trust us. I sense it in the way he won’t touch the box. He never touches the box.”
    “Too big a temptation we are for him.”
    “No! No!” screeched a bird. “He’s merely a stupid child. A pathetic progeny that will fail his mother. When will she learn? When will she destroy him herself and give us a new master?”
    “Hush!”
    Every demon held his