“ They have to work. Harry said that silver made it weak, remember? He said people used a silver cross to keep it away, didn’t he?”
“ Yeah,” she said.
“ I think he was only trying to keep us from messing with the Nightwitch.”
“ He said he would take care of it,” she said.
“ But it’s not coming after him. It wants you. And I know why.”
“ Why?” she asked, turning away from the sunset and sticking out her lower lip.
“’ Cuz you got her magic locket and she wants it back.”
“ What?”
“ The one your dad gave you. That has to be why it keeps coming around your house.”
Carolina reached up to her neck, but the locket wasn’t there.
“ Yeah,” Arty said, “You put it behind Sheila’s name tag. I bet that’s the only reason you’re still alive. It looks in your window. It probably watches when we go to school and we would never know, because it can be anything it wants. It’s waiting to find out where the locket is, and when it does, that’s when it’s going to kill you, and me, too, ’cuz now I know.”
“ No, you’re wrong,” she said. “My dad would never give me something like that.”
“ What if he didn’t know?”
“ If he didn’t know, maybe?”
“ So we should go to my house and get the shotgun.”
“ But Harry said we should stay home.”
“ We will, but we’ll get the shotgun, just in case.”
“ That makes sense.” So instead of turning right to Carolina’s, they turned left to Arty’s house.
“ Do you think we should call Harry and tell him about the locket?” Carolina said, as they rounded the corner of Arty’s street.
“ That’s a good idea,” Arty said. It was starting to get dark and Arty could tell Carolina wanted to be home as quickly as possible. “You wanna call from here or when we get back to your house?”
“ From here,” she said. “Maybe he’ll want to come and get it.”
Arty pulled a key out of his pocket. “I’ve never had my own key before,” he said. “My dad wouldn’t allow it.” He opened the door, went to the phone and dialed.
“ You know his number by heart?” she asked.
“ Yeah, once I learn a number, I remember it forever.”
“ Just the opposite of me,” she said.
“ I remember things,” he said, “that’s why I remembered about the locket.” The phone was ringing for the eighth, then the ninth time, before he hung up. “He’s not home.”
“ Probably gone after the Nightwitch,” Carolina said, following Arty out of the house and into the garage. She watched as he went to a stack of old newspapers and pulled some from the top.
“ It wouldn’t look right for a couple kids to be walking around with a shotgun, so I’m gonna wrap it up.” He used masking tape to hold the newspaper in place, but it didn’t make much difference, when he was finished it still looked like what it was. A shotgun wrapped in newspaper, but Arty was pleased with the attempt.
“ We should make a silver cross,” Carolina said, “and get some salt and hot pepper.”
“ My grandma’s old silver is in the kitchen. My dad wouldn’t sell it, ’cuz he loved his old mother. She was horrible. I hated her.”
Carolina followed him back into the house and into the kitchen. He opened a cupboard and pulled out a box. She stood back as he put it on the table and opened it. The inside was lined with blue velvet and it was packed with an ornate looking silverware service.
“ We could make a cross out of two of the knives,” she said, “but we need a way to make them stay together.”
“ No problem,” Arty said. He laid the shotgun on the table next to the silver set. He rushed from the kitchen, returning seconds later with a box of rubber bands. “These are the thick ones I use for the Sunday papers,” he said, picking up the two knives. He used several rubber bands and bound them together at the center, fashioning them into a crude cross.
“ Now we need some salt and hot pepper.” He took the salt shaker off the table and dropped it into his pocket. “We’ll have to stop by the store and buy the hot pepper.”
“ We have to hurry,” she said, “I want to be home before it gets too dark.”
They stopped at the supermarket on their way to Carolina’s and Arty knew he didn’t do a very good job disguising the shotgun, because everybody in the store was watching them as he followed Carolina to the spice section. And if anyone’s attention wasn’t drawn to the gun, it was riveted on the silver knife cross clutched in Carolina’s right hand.
Arty was aware of shoppers at both ends of the aisle watching them as Carolina took a jar of cayenne pepper off the shelf.
“ Do you have any money?” Arty asked on their way to the checkout line.
“ No,” she said, “I only take enough to school to buy lunch.”
“ I don’t have any, either.” He took her by the arm as they turned around and walked away from the cash register.
“ We can’t put it back,” she said, “We might need it.”
“ Give it to me,” Arty said. She handed it to him and he led her down the breakfast food aisle, and turned left at the potato chips. When he was confident no one was looking, he slipped it into his pocket, failing to realize that half the store had seen them turn by the cold cereal with the pepper and exit at the next aisle over without it.
“ You, stop!” one of the checkers said, pointing at them. They were close to the door and Arty thought about making a run for it as Ray Harpine’s father walked in, blocking their exit.
“ Shoplifters!” the checker said.
“ Hold it, Arty,” Officer Harpine said.
“ Look in his pockets,” the checker said.
“ What’cha have wrapped up there, Arty?”
“ Nothing,” Arty said.
“ Looks like it might be your daddy’s shotgun to me,” Harrison Harpine said.
“ Mine now,” Arty said.
“ I think there’s a law against children running around with loaded guns,” the policeman said.
“ It’s not loaded,” Arty lied.
“ Look in his pocket,” the checker said.
“ Hand over the gun,” Harpine said, as a young woman, overloaded with two large shopping bags, was passing by on her way out of the store.
All eyes were on Arty as Carolina removed the backpack from her shoulders. She took out the ferret and tossed it into one of the grocery bags. The woman screeched, clutching at the animal and dropping her groceries as it popped out of a bag. The ferret scrambled among the fallen foodstuffs, then scurried between Harrison Harpine’s legs.
“ What the hey?” Harpine exclaimed as a bottle of ketchup broke inside the shattering bag, and oranges, tomatoes and canned goods started rolling over the floor.
“ Sheila,” Carolina called. The ferret spun around and dove into the open backpack. Then Carolina started running for the door with Arty right behind her.
“ They’re getting away,” the checker yelled. Harrison Harpine turned to give chase, but he stepped on a tomato and tripped on a can of corn.
“ Son of a bitch,” he yelled as his rear end landed on a pair of rolling oranges, squashing them. He yelled after the children, “You two stop right there. I know where you live.”
But the kids weren’t listening.
“ This way!” Carolina started across the parking lot.
“ No, follow me!” Arty went the other way, dashing around the store’s right side without looking back. When he got to the rear of the store, he tossed the gun into a large dumpster.
“ What did you do that for?” Carolina asked, huffing and out of breath. “I thought we were going over the
