The Glass Castle (2 page)

Worse, she had no idea what had happened to Henry. The thought of him scared and hungry in another cart sent a fresh stab of pain through Avery’s chest and she gasped for air.

I was supposed to protect him. I was the one who took him out of the house.

Suddenly, she realized the cart was moving.

She struggled to raise her hands—tied tightly at the wrists—and pounded the top of the cart as hard as she could manage until her knuckles stung.

Everything halted, and an old woman’s bulging eyes appeared between the slats. Avery recoiled from hair that looked like long white wires and a face filled with so many creases she might easily be a hundred years old.

“So you’re still alive!” the woman said, cackling. “Wasn’t sure there for a while. I was wondering if I’d have to bury you out ’ere. Didn’t want to mess with digging another grave.” She smiled a gummy grin and added, “Looks like it might rain.”

Another grave?

All Avery could see in her mind was Henry’s scared face. She threw her body at the sides of the cart, hoping to break out, but the box wouldn’t budge, and the woman stopped smiling.

“Relax,” she said. “You’re not going anywhere. This cart has been my sturdy companion longer than you’ve been on God’s green earth.”

Avery could see the woman wore a royal-blue cloak, and the tip of her nose was cherry red from the wind. Despite her age, her voice was strong and her black, beady eyes serious as a snake. “No banging and no yelling, you ‘ear me? Or there will be consequences.”

“I’m not scared of your threats,” Avery said, her voice muffled by the rag around her mouth. “I’m stronger than you.”

The woman smiled again, light dancing in her dull eyes. “But your brother’s not. If you don’t want anything to ’appen to ’enry, you’ll be quiet.”

He’s still alive.
This, at least, brought Avery a small measure of comfort.

The old woman began to laugh—a hollow, unhappy sound—revealing several missing teeth and a deep scar along her right cheek.

She knows Henry’s name. What else does she know? How did she make him talk? What did he tell her?

Avery knew she should scream and hope someone would come. She could easily overpower the woman. How fast could an old woman run?

But she has Henry.

“Are you listening?” the woman said, slapping the cart with a hand as red as blood.

Avery nodded.

“You kids are all the same,” the woman mumbled, wiping her forehead with the edge of her cloak. “So much trouble and so ungrateful.” Her knuckles rose like mountains against the soft, flat flesh of her hand, and Avery saw a ruby ring that looked like it could be worth a fortune.

Who does she work for?

The old woman shuffled away, saying, “I almost forgot. ’appy birthday. Make a wish, darling.”

The woman laughed again, the sound sending a rush of cold up Avery’s spine. Then the woman disappeared and the cart began to bump along the road again.

Avery rested her chin back on her knees as hot tears sprang to her eyes. It was only supposed to be a walk. This was not how she had imagined spending her special day. She wished she could start the day over and do what her father instructed.

As her ruby flower necklace pressed against her collarbone, she knew she had made a terrible mistake to leave the house without her father’s permission. He would look for them in the tree house, but he would have no idea where to look when he did not find them there.

A thick darkness settled, and with it, cold air.

Suddenly, the old woman began to sing in a voice as low as a man’s—

But Avery suspected her freedom had been left in her tree castle in the woods.

As the night grew colder, the woman slowed and her breathing grew loud and labored. The flat, gravel roads gave way to steep climbs and craggy hills, and Avery feared the old woman might have a heart attack and leave them both to freeze to death in the middle of nowhere.

Hours of travel felt like days.

Suddenly, Avery’s sad and weary eyes settled on a scene that rose before the slats of the cart. Hundreds of brightly lit windows and dozens of turrets touched the sky, making the city in the distance look like a pyramid of gold perched on a pile of puffy clouds, a sort of glass castle illuminating the night sky. Its vibrant colors pulsed with life unlike anything Avery had ever seen. A thousand times she had imagined being found in a place that looked just like this—like it belonged in a fairy tale.

Her mother had spun tales of an evil king’s castle—filled with secret passageways and tunnels. Her stories about the underground colonies, which she called “the underworld,” were the best. When she told them late at night by candlelight that cast wide shadows on the bare walls of their tiny house, Avery forgot everything else in the world, including the fact they were poor and hungry. Those moments, curled beside her mother in bed, were her most treasured memories.

Now her stomach twisted.

Every fairy tale has its dragon.

She longed for the apple sausages Henry had talked about in the woods. She would even settle for the thick pea pottage that made their usual meal. She didn’t care about her ruined dress anymore, even if she owed her father a lifetime of Saturdays sweeping the endless dust from the floor of his shop to buy a new one. She just wanted to go home.

Sloping rooftops and pointed turrets gave way to foreboding walls and dancing shadows so powerful they made Avery’s heart sink. Whoever lived in this magnificent city on a hill had money and power, so this kidnapping wasn’t about a ransom. Her father had nothing of value to offer rich people.

Eventually, the cart halted again and the woman barked an order to someone Avery couldn’t see. Bartering ensued, followed by the clanking of coins, and the cart was pushed onto something that moved up and down slowly.

Avery pressed her face against the slats.

I’m being sold. To whom? For how much?

And then another thought was slow to follow—

Hopefully Henry and I are sold to the same person so we can stay together.

And then a final thought—

A raft. I don’t know how to swim.

Chances of rescue looked slimmer by the second. Even if she escaped the box, she would never escape the water.

On the other side of the raft, another box bore another frightened face pressed against its slats. Their eyes met and held briefly before the boy—who looked to be about Avery’s age—moved quickly out of Avery’s view.

She turned her attention to the sea, where moonlight shimmered off choppy waves that made the raft bob, and she feared she might get sick.

I cannot make a scene if the risk is a watery grave.

The raft inched closer to the glowing city, its lights so dazzling that it looked as if it had been dusted with crystals. And it wasn’t perched on puffy clouds after all, but on its own island.

The raft maneuvered around a thick tree trunk and glided smoothly over the glassy surface of the suddenly stilled water. The moon appeared large and lavender in its brilliance.

Avery knew that wherever she was going was unlike anywhere she had ever been.

For good or for evil—and she suspected evil—her life was about to change forever.

Chapter 3

Kate

The raft came to a standstill, and the old woman pushed the cart onto dry land with a grunt.

She must have gotten a second wind during their ride on the raft, because she pushed with renewed energy over the winding hills to where a steep road led to a thick wooden door under an enormous towering archway. Two burly guards with pockmarked faces and chests as round as barrels stood on either side of the door, each holding a heavy torch in his hand with flames that licked the air and spit out heavy smoke as black as midnight.

One of the guards grunted and Avery felt the beat of her heart in her neck.

She was thankful, at least, to have survived the raft. Now she hoped to survive these men. She didn’t have the energy to fight. And from the size of these two, she would need more than energy if they intended to harm her.

Avery suspected people did whatever these men required.

She could only hope that her father was out looking for her and Henry by now and that he had already alerted the authorities.

Of course he has. He is looking for us right now. We’ll be home by breakfast.

“What’s in the cart?” one of the guards asked, kicking the box with his enormous boot.

Avery moved as far back and out of sight as possible.

“Potatoes and blackberries,” the old woman said, a surprising unease in her voice.

Avery didn’t know whose side the men would take if she called for help, but she knew she had a better chance defending herself against the old woman than against men with muscles the size of bread bowls and boots the size of planets.

More words. More grunts. More kicking the cart.

Finally, they opened the door to a set of narrow limestone steps that seemed to lead forever up an unlit stairway. Before Avery had time to think about what it meant for her own cramped and aching back and legs—

Ka-thunk, ka-thunk, ka-thunk.

Someone—surely not the old woman—was dragging or pushing the cart up the steps one painful thud at a time. Avery slammed back against the boards, her head hitting the top and the sides and her knees knocking the front when she tried to brace herself. She wanted to cry out in agony, but who might hear her and what consequence might that bring? She bit down on the oily rag to keep from screaming. By the time the cart stopped, she ached all over and knew that even if she were able to escape, she wouldn’t get far.

Was that the plan?
Injured birds never fly far.

A door opened to a stream of welcoming, golden light, and all at once everything became pleasant. Avery longed for more of the warmth that came with the light, no matter the cost.

The cart creaked backward, stopped, and was pushed upright, and a crowd gathered around it.

Avery peered through the slats.

Shimmery fabric. Eager voices. Hushed tones.
Dirty feet.

When the old woman spoke, the room fell silent.

“This one ’ere is feisty! She might bite.” Nervous laughter rose like steam from broth. “You know the rules. Don’t let ’er out of your sight even for a moment. If you can’t break ’er will by morning, send for me, and I’ll do it.”

Avery didn’t like the sound of that, but before she could think about it too long, the lid to the cart was lifted and Avery was dumped out, a tangled mess of dirty white dress and long, gnarly black hair.

The crowd gasped.

Avery lay on her back and groaned, staring at the heavily painted mosaic ceiling as the crowd closed in around her. A sea of dirty young faces swam into focus, easily fifty pairs of unblinking eyes taking her in. Dozens of well-dressed kids with hungry looks and wide, expectant gazes.

“What’s her name?” a boy asked.

“Avery,” the old woman answered, untying Avery’s wrists and removing the cloth from her mouth.

Suddenly Avery sat up. “How do you know my name? What is this place, and why am I here? When can I go home? My father will find you and he’ll prosecute you to the full extent of the law, I promise!”

“Like I said, feisty,” the woman said, and she turned to leave.

Avery jumped to her feet and lunged, latching onto the woman’s shoulders, intending to tackle her and pin her to the ground, but the woman shook her off with surprising effortlessness, fire burning in her black eyes. “Do not touch me, child!”

“Or what?” Avery shouted.

The woman swung a fist at Avery just as a pair of strong hands yanked Avery out of the way.

“I’ll handle her,” a deep voice said.

“Then teach ’er to show some respect. I should have left ’er in the woods to rot.”

“Rotting might have been the better option!” Avery bit back.