The Meeting

Part 3 of "The Scarecrow"

The last thing I had expected that day was for Henry Weston’s nephew to show up, asking questions about the scarecrow Raincrest. I had been out of contact with him for nearly thirty years, and that was enough to satisfy me. I knew he was safe. I knew he was loved and cared for. I knew the witches who created him for their own amusement and abuse would never get their filthy hands on him.

Raincrest vanished, quite literally, into thin air when Henry went to war. Sadly, Henry was killed, leaving Raincrest alone in an invisible barn for eighteen years. He showed up suddenly one summer morning. Why, I’m not sure. Possibly to find out what was taking his friend so long to come home. He vanished again after being told the truth.

I appreciated Marty’s visit, but in the days afterward, as the festival continued on, my mind kept turning back to him and Henry and Raincrest. On the last day of the harvest festival, while the vendors were packing up their unsold products and disenchanting the entertainment, snow began to fall. Bundling up in my cloak, I looked up at the dingy gray sky, snowflakes landing gently on my hollowing face.

A warlock much older than me, Allard Vonner, tipped his hat in my direction. “Madam Farina. How was the festival for you?”

“Quite lovely,” I replied, nodding. “I didn’t hear anyone say it would snow today.”

“I heard rumors, but I thought we’d all be packed up by then.”

“I don’t think the cold will be an issue, but if I need help, I’ll holler.” Before Allard turned back to his tent, I said, “Could I confide in you for something?”

“Yes, Madam?” Allard limped back over on his cane.

I led him back to my tent. “Henry’s nephew visited me on the first day of the festival, asking about Raincrest.”

“The scarecrow? I haven’t heard anything about him since the day the barn appeared overnight.”

“So you heard he disappeared again.”

Allard nodded. “Why he did, I’m not sure.”

“Because Henry’s dead. Now, I swear we hunted down the coven that created Raincrest so he’d feel safe, but . . . what if there’s still some of those witches out there? They’ll track down his magic like a bloodhound tracks down a fox.”

Allard leaned in to whisper. “Let’s talk more after we get packed away. We can go somewhere more private.”

________________________________________

The cake was still hot when Allard knocked on my front door. Setting it aside on a cooling rack, I wiped my hands on my apron before opening the door. “Welcome, welcome,” I said, taking his hat and coat to hang up. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you, Madam.” Allard looked around before taking a seat in one of the overstuffed chairs by the fireplace. “So, what makes you think there’s still remnants of that witch coven out there? We chased them out of the county almost twenty-five years ago, and if they haven’t returned by now, they’re long gone.”

“You do remember that whole incident wasn’t just about the scarecrows we rescued, right?”

A sympathetic look came over Allard’s face. “No. I remember it was personal for you because of your daughter.”

“I wanted to rescue her from them. I wanted to show her they were evil and that she was tarnishing our reputation as having changed and abandoned the most despicable aspects of magic.” Slowly, I sat down, staring into the fire, choking on tears. “And she wouldn’t listen. Yet . . . I couldn’t hurt her. She’s my daughter. I couldn’t—”

“You let her run.”

“I did.” Squeezing my eyes shut, I covered my face. “Please, Allard—”

“I can’t fault you for what you did. I knew that wouldn’t be easy for you, but like I said, it’s been twenty-five years. If she were to return, I think she would have already.”

“Yes, but I’m still worried she will. Not just for Raincrest, but for revenge on me.”

“We won’t let that happen. I promise. As long as we’re still around.” Allard reached over to take my hand. “I don’t want to dismiss your concerns, but right now, we don’t know if Evie’s still alive. We’ll keep an eye out, though.”

I nodded. My thoughts had suddenly run wild. To this day, I still can’t understand why my own daughter, who was shaping to be a very talented witch, embraced the most evil of our people. And for what? The promise of unspeakable power? Immortality? Control? Control was certainly one of them, given how they created Raincrest and others of his kind for slave labor. I know I taught Evie better than that. I know I taught her to use her abilities for good. To use them for evil would shatter the relationship we’ve had with the non-magical people of this town for the last several decades.

Allard and I, along with others, valued that relationship. The last thing I wanted was for my own daughter to destroy it.

________________________________________

A strong, cold wind was blowing through the town that night. The only lights on were the streetlamps and the occasional automobile passing through. Every window in every house was dark. Pumpkins of all shapes and sizes, some carved, some not, sat on every porch. Aside from them, there was no one around to see Allard and I walking down to the place where the barn appeared over the summer.

The distance between houses lengthened as we entered the vast expanses of farmland surrounding the town. Allard was holding a lantern, and although neither of us were frightened of the dark, it was a source of comfort as we left the streetlamps behind.

The field outside the forest where the barn appeared looked foreboding at night, and the forest itself was nothing more than an inky black mass stretching up to the sky and nearly blocking out the moon. Allard handed the lantern to me before pulling out his wand. “How are you doing, Madam?” he whispered.

“Alright,” I said. “I don’t think we’ll be able to force Raincrest to appear.”

“If we’re going to take him to safety, we have to try.”

Nodding, I followed Allard into the tall grass. A skunk waddled away from us when the light illuminated where it was digging for insects. A fox let out a high-pitched bark somewhere in the darkness of the forest. We stopped at the place the barn once stood, and an owl began hooting in a tree above us.

We used every spell we could think of to show us the barn, or at the very least, Raincrest. When nothing appeared, my worst fears surfaced. “They came back, and they took him!” I shouted.

“He could have moved somewhere,” Allard said. “Wait—Madam! I found something!”

I ran over to where Allard was standing. A few feet in front of him was a plain, brown paper package, held together with twine. He prodded it with his cane. “It’s hard.”

“It could be cursed,” I said.

“True.” He aimed his wand at it, and twirled it a little. The package lifted up, the twine undoing itself, and the paper falling away to reveal a framed photograph. My heart broke, and I wanted to scream when I saw it was a photograph of Raincrest, tied to a chair. A pair of witches were with him, and one of them was my own daughter.

“I’ll be damned,” Allard muttered. He turned the frame around. On the back of it was a note.

“‘Mother, I hope this letter finds you well. By now, you know your weak little scarecrow has been returned to his creators. Don’t worry, he is safe. He will be put back to work as intended all those years ago. Should you try to rescue him, I can promise the consequences will be grave. You risked a lot rescuing him and others like him in the past, and now I know my coven was wrong to just run. This time, revenge will be swift. So, tell me, Mother, will you risk everything and everyone you love for one scarecrow? The choice is yours.’”