Witch Catcher Read Online Free PDF

face, but it was gone before Dad saw it. "Oh, yes," she said quickly. "Do you realize that most of the artists were lunatics? Some were incarcerated in insane asylums." She laughed. "That's where believing in fairies leads—straight to Bedlam."
    Dad nodded, too absorbed in the paintings to hear the tension in her voice and laugh.
    Her face half in shadow, Moura turned to me. "According to legend, fairies aren't the dear little creatures you imagine them to be. On the contrary, they are malicious, spiteful, and completely untrustworthy."
    Her soft voice concealed a warning meant for me. Danger tingled in the very air around us. But danger from what? Fairies? Hie globe hidden in my closet? I drew closer to my father, comforted by his everyday ordinariness.
    Pointing to the painting on the easel. Dad said, "This girl certainly has an unearthly quality. Is she good or evil?"
    "Wicked beyond imagining." A flash of hatred crossed Moura's face—gone, of course, before Dad noticed. "Look at her eyes, the curious slant, the malice in their depths. She's a fairy I wouldn't want to meet in a dark wood."
    "How about you, Jen?" Dad asked. "What do you think? I can't quite make up my mind about her."
    "She looks scared," I whispered. "Not evil."
    Moura removed her glasses and contemplated me, her head tilted so that her hair fell straight and shiny to one side. "Children," she murmured. "So naive, so unaware of danger. They truly need to be protected from themselves."
    Unnerved by her disdainful gaze, I took a step backward and almost stumbled over Cadoc. He raised his head and growled softly, as if he, too. were warning me. I didn't know which one scared me more—the hound or his mistress.
    With a smile, Moura turned back to Dad. "The same client who collects witch traps has a keen interest in fairy lore. Shall I tell him about these paintings? He'd be willing to pay a great deal for them."
    Dad hesitated before he answered. "I'm not sure I want to part with them just yet," he said at last. "But if your client wants to look at them, I have no objection."
    Taking the paintings with him, Dad led the way downstairs with Moura behind him, her long skirt flowing. Cadoc followed, close at her heels. I brought up the rear, allowing plenty of distance between myself and the dog.
    At the bottom of the steps, I lingered in the tower doorway and watched Dad and Moura walk across the lawn, their heads close, talking softly. Cadoc loped in circles around them, as lean and graceful as a greyhound but far more menacing.
    When I caught up with them, I heard Moura tell Dad, "I'm sorry I can't accept your invitation. I have a business engagement this evening. Perhaps tomorrow night?"
    Dad's face brightened. "That will be even better. I'll have more time to plan a great dinner for you."
    Moura waved to Dad and me and got into her car. Cadoc made himself comfortable in the passenger seat, and off they went, leaving a cloud of dust behind.
    As soon as the car was out-of-sight, Dad turned to me.
    "I'm disappointed in you, Jen," he said. "Not only did you go into the tower, but you lied about it. Worse yet, I have a feeling you know exactly where that witch catcher is."
    Ashamed to meet his eyes, I looked at the ground and shook my head. Even though it upset me to lie to my father, I had no intention of giving the glass globe to Moura. I enjoyed knowing I had something she wanted.
     
    That night, I retrieved the globe from its hiding place and stared into the glass. I saw nothing. No witch. No evil spirit. It was all nonsense anyway. How could a full-size witch be sucked into a glass globe no bigger than a softball?
    I strung a green ribbon through the loop at the top and tied the ribbon around my curtain rod. The globe spun slowly in the night breeze, catching light from the moon. link watched the globe turn, his eyes big. He rose on his hind legs as if he longed to bat it back and forth like one of his toys.
    "Oh, no, you don't." I scooped him up, and he