Henderbell- the Shadow of Saint Nicholas Page 3

  She scoffed. “These are for Mr. Wombington. He said he’s hungry.”

  On the other side of the large glass doors of the kitchen, in the center of the backyard, was the tree that gave me goosebumps when I was younger. Even in the summer, the tree would grow no leaves, its trunk always gray and old. Its branches reminded me of the drawings of rivers on maps. I remember seeing the eerie tree always decorated with lights. This year was no different.

  “The tree still scares you?” Grandma put a tray of cookies in the oven.

  “It used to. I just find it creepy. It’s just there, taking up space. Aside from being used as a hanger for more Christmas lights every year, what else do you need it for? And it looks so old.”

  “Oh, I see.” Grandma scoffed and put a hand on her waist. “So everything that looks old must be cut down?” A frown followed.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Regardless of its appearance, it still serves a purpose.” She opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bowl of cookie dough, placing it on the counter. “Remember, the value of something isn’t lost because its appearance is old. It’s the heart that’s the most precious treasure of all.”

  “So that tree has a heart?” I folded my arms over the counter and rested my chin on my hands.

  “All things do,” she replied, looking as if I should’ve known the answer to my question. “And they beat in different rhythms, but one needs a good ear to listen.”

  “Are you drunk on eggnog already?” I pouted my lips.

  “Excuse me?” Grandma widened her eyes. “I haven’t had eggnog in years.”

  “Can I have some eggnog?” Ava asked.

  “You most certainly cannot,” Grandpa replied. “What made you think…”

  Their voices turned to muffled sounds, my attention returning to the tree. The Christmas lights bounced as its branches moved to the wind. The sight gave me a mixture of peace and curiosity as the first snowflakes started falling, the sky a shade of dark pink and gray.

  We sat by the counter as the cookies baked. My grandparents decided to entertain Ava’s imaginary tales about her adventures with Mr. Wombington. I smiled and nodded occasionally, still haunted by the image of the eyes by the stairs.

  By the times the cookies were done, the backyard was covered in a blanket of snow. The wind picked up, the moving branches of the tree now looking more like illuminated waving hands.

  “Let me just fix us some hot cocoa.” Grandma stared at the three cookie trays on the counter with great pride.

  A phone vibrated.

  “Oh, that must be mine.” Grandma had left her phone on top of the microwave. “Your father is saying you haven’t replied to his texts, Enzo.”

  “Phone’s off and it’s also upstairs.” I shrugged and used my foot to spin the stool I was sitting on. “I want a vacation from everything and everyone.”

  “Do you have a phone, Ava?” Grandma asked while typing.

  “Not really. My tablet has VideoTube for kids and that’s about it.” She used her hands to support her face, elbows on the counter. “I want cookies!”

  “Kids are hungry, Mary.” Grandpa walked to the large glass door, hands in his pockets. “Tell Bane kids are okay and we’ll send news tomorrow.”

  He stood as still as a statue, watching the storm.

  “What are you looking at, Grandpa?” Ava asked.

  “The snow,” he replied. “It calms me down.”

  “Your grandpa loves watching a snowstorm.” Grandma put the phone on the counter, screen facing down.

  “Why?” Ava made use of her foot to turn the stool so she could face him.

  “It reminds me of a simpler time.” A long breath followed his words.

  “A time when he had less wrinkles and his hair wasn’t so gray,” Grandma said, opening the cabinet and grabbing four white mugs.

  “Well, that too.” He chuckled. “When I was your age, Enzo, I’d watch every storm. I remember thinking, ‘Another snowfall. Another winter. Another day closer to being an adult.’ I wish I had spent less time thinking of the future when I was younger. But things were different then.”

  “Way to bum everyone out on Christmas eve, Nicholas,” Grandma said, a hand on her waist. “Now enough of this.” She waved us away. “Cookies are done. Hot cocoa is ready. Go to the living room and I’ll serve you all.”

  “Need help, Grandma?” Ava slid down the stool, Mr. Wombington in her arms.

  “No need to help, sweetheart,” Grandma replied.

  The three of us retrieved to the living room. Mr. Wombington’s long legs bounced behind Ava as she pranced.

  “Which Christmas movie are we watching tonight?” Grandpa asked as Ava jumped on the brown couch facing the television.

  “The Grinch!” Ava squealed as I sat beside her. “Please, please, please?”

  “The Grinch it is.” He sat on the couch opposite to ours.

  “Do I get a vote?” I asked with a shrug.

  “Nope,” Ava said.

  Grandma showed up and placed the tray overflowing with cookies on the coffee table. We went for them like a lion attacking its prey.

  The driveway was buried under the snow, a thick layer already settled over the car. A pink hue stretched across the sky, creating a beautiful spectacle behind the trees.

  For the duration of the movie, my attention shifted between the stairs and the television. I was determined to find anything that explained what I saw. I wanted to believe the sight was a fruit of my imagination, but my gut told me otherwise. Who did the eyes belong to? What did the voice mean when it called me prince?

  “One more movie!” Ava demanded when the credits rolled on the TV.

  “It’s almost eleven.” Grandma stood to her feet and rubbed her eyes.

  Grandpa repeated her gesture and said, “Tomorrow is Christmas. We have to be up early for presents.”

  “Presents!” Ava grabbed my arm. “Heard that, Enzo? Presents. As in more than one!”

  A smile was my response.

  “We should watch Home Alone,” Ava jumped to her feet, eyes shifting to Grandma and Grandpa. “Can we, please?”

  “Won’t you be too tired in the morning?” Grandpa asked.

  “No, I promise.” Ava laced her fingers together and shook her hands as if begging for a miracle.

  “Are you staying up with her, Enzo?” Grandpa asked.

  “Sure,” I replied. “I’ll stay with her.”

  “Well, alright then.” Grandpa stretched. “See you in the morning,” he said behind a yawn.

  Ava and I wished them goodnight as they walked upstairs to their bedroom.

  I leapt from the couch and raced toward the fireplace the moment I heard them locking their door.

  “What’re you doing?” Ava asked, kneeling in front of the TV with the remote in hand, Mr. Wombington beside her.

  “Just looking at something.” I grabbed the framed drawing and sat on the couch facing the TV.

  “Can you find Home Alone on this thing?” Ava shrugged, her attention on the bright screen.

  “Yeah, in a minute.” The tips of my fingers trailed over the frame as the image of the burning drawing flooded my head. Aside from the smudges and a few uncolored outlines, the drawing showed nothing unusual.

  “Give me that.” Defeated, I tossed the frame on the couch and reached for the remote. “Maybe it was my imagination,” I mumbled while scrolling down the on-demand channel.

  “Are you okay?” Ava asked. “We can watch something—”

  Ava and I were startled by a clash on the window, the glass now covered in cracks.

  “What was that?” Ava reached for Mr. Wombington and held him between her arms.

  “Probably a branch.”

  The wind howled like a pack of wolves. A curtain of white blinded the view outside.

  A breeze brushed on my cheek. I jumped up, dropping the remote on the couch.

  “What’s wrong?” Ava asked as I rushed to the foot of the stairs. I
scanned the steps, the walls, the ceiling. Nothing unusual.

  A knock came from the kitchen. I followed the sound, my gaze meeting the glass door. The ghost of the colorful lights on the eerie tree danced in the middle of the storm. There was a layer of snow pressed against the glass, rising a few feet from the ground.

  I stepped into the kitchen, searching the darkness for whatever had caused the noise.

  Three knocks echoed behind me.

  I turned my attention to the sound. My teeth sunk into my bottom lip as feeling escaped every limb in my body. Something—or someone stood at the foot of the stairs. It had holes for eyes, lips pressed into a long line rising up the side of its face. Around its head were thorn-covered vines twisted into a crown. Its upper body was shielded by a rusty breastplate, its tattered black pants were tucked into dark boots. Its chest lifted with slow breaths before it started making its way up the stairs.

  “Ava!” I darted into the living room.

  She was nowhere to be seen.

  “Grandpa! Grandma! Help!” I shouted, rushing to the stairs, but the sound of the door sliding in the kitchen stole my attention. Ava ran into the storm with Mr. Wombington in hand, wearing her pink slippers, the legs of her pajamas dragging on the ground.

  “Ava!” I shouted, putting on a pair of Grandpa’s boots that sat by the door. I followed her, the snow almost to my knees. She giggled while flailing her warms in the air, prancing like a kid running at an amusement park.

  My breath steamed as I kept on shouting her name, trudging through the fresh layer of snow on the ground. Not once did she look at me.

  A human-like silhouette stood by the frightening tree. But its true form didn’t remain hidden for long. The Christmas lights bounced off its armor, its crown of thorns visible. It beckoned Ava closer with a wave, a smile on its face. A scar streaked across its nostrils, rising toward its forehead. And behind him, on the bark of the tree was a doorway.

  “Ava!” My throat stung as the wind carried my voice away.

  A haunting screech came from the house. I halted and followed the hair-raising sound. Something broke through the roof, crawling out like a corpse digging out of its grave.

  “You want him?” My attention followed Ava’s voice. She held up her teddy bear, the creature grabbing it with its hands.

  “Where are you going to take him?” Ava asked as the creature tossed the teddy bear through the doorway on the tree, the toy fading into the darkness.

  The being smiled.

  “I can come with you?” Ava extended her hand.

  “Stop!” I grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her to me. The creature squawked, revealing a set of jagged yellow teeth, its breath smelling of decay.

  “Get away from that thing!” Grandpa stood by the massive door in the kitchen, Grandma at his side, both in their robes. They ventured into the storm, rushing our way.

  A roar blared from the roof. A shadow lingered over the shingles, pacing impatiently.

  “Ava, we have to get out of here!” I shook her by the shoulder, but she didn’t move. Her eyes remained on the being by the tree, hypnotized by the sight.

  A roar echoed behind me. Whatever had found its way up on the roof leapt in our direction, landing beside us. The Christmas lights wrapped on the branches of the tree revealed its face as it approached its companion: holes for eyes, a crown of thorns around its head, chest hidden behind a rust-covered breastplate. In its grasp was a throbbing light.

  “What do you want?” Grandpa shouted, now a few feet behind us, body and hair covered in snow.

  They stood immobile, their long lips pressed into a line, the Christmas lights reflecting on their breastplates.

  Grandma trudged closer and wrapped her arms around Ava.

  “Don’t harm them,” Grandpa begged. “Leave them alone. Your business is with me.”

  “Ava!” Grandma shook her. “Can you hear me?”

  No movement. Her eyes remained open, jaw parted, the brown of her hair replaced by a layer of snow.

  The creature I had seen on the stairs stretched its hand and unrolled its fingers, revealing an illuminated globe. The object shattered, its shards turning into a whirling cloud that slithered on the ground as if life had found it. It encircled the four of us and engulfed my grandparents. Fear wrapped me as the cloud quickly retrieved toward the creature and made its way into its opened mouth, Grandma and Grandpa nowhere to be seen.

  The lights of the house went dark as they disappeared inside the doorway on the tree.

  CHAPTER 6

  Ava took in a sharp breath as soon as they were out of sight. She looked left and right, glanced at her trembling hands and then at my face.

  “What were you doing?” I asked, the Christmas lights on the tree casting colorful shadows on her face. “Why did you follow that thing? Why wouldn’t you stop? Why wouldn’t you listen?”

  “Enzo, I tried,” she whimpered, lips blue. “But I couldn’t. It told me to follow and I did. I couldn’t stop. I could only look at it.”

  “So, what, that thing held you against your will?” My teeth chattered as the snow piled on my shoulder.

  “I don’t know—I was confused—”

  “They took your teddy bear. Any idea why?”

  “No.” Her chin wobbled. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “Did you see Grandma and Grandpa being taken by that cloud?” I shuddered.

  “I did,” she answered with glassy eyes. “I saw everything. I just…couldn’t move.”

  “Let’s go inside—maybe call the police,” I suggested.

  “Maybe?” She frowned.

  “What are we going to tell them, Ava?” I shrugged. “That two monsters kidnapped our grandparents?”

  Every part of my body trembled as we darted back to the house. My pants were drenched, hair completely covered in ice. Ava had her arms coiled to her chest, teeth chattering like a machine gun.

  A layer of snow hid the threshold of the kitchen door, spreading across the floor. I closed the glass door, removed the soaked pair of boots, and went straight to the living room.

  Relief found me once I heard the crackling of the fireplace. The house sat in darkness, the fire casting dancing shadows around the living room.

  “I’m s-s-s-so cold.” Ava removed her wet slippers and stretched her hands over the fire.

  I blew into my hands and held them over the flames, my breath still steaming out of my mouth. I followed a cold wind chill that brushed my neck, noticing snow falling on the stairs leading up to the bedrooms. I stared for a while, fear keeping me rooted to my spot.

  “Wait here,” I said, finally deciding to break free from its sudden hold.

  “Enzo, where-where-are you going?” She whimpered.

  “I need to make sure there’s no one else in here.” My eyes shifted between her and the stairs. “Stay here.”

  I rushed back to the kitchen and grabbed the soaking wet boots I had worn to chase Ava. To my relief, the lights of the house turned back on. I quickly glanced at the glass door, shuddering at the distant twinkling lights, visible even through the storm.

  I retrieved to the stairs, the wooden floor creaking to my steps. Pieces of wood and shingles were strewn on the steps, the sight covered in a thin blanket of snow. As I walked up, my gaze shifted to the hole on the ceiling, the night sky in view. Glass crunched beneath my feet as I continued up the steps.

  “Enzo, are you alright?” Ava shouted.

  “All good!”

  The door of my grandparents’ bedroom was to my left, wide open, pillows and comforter on the floor. I rushed up the remaining steps, jumping over wood and ice, darting into the room.

  Shards of glass were dispersed on the carpet. A cold breeze blew through the half-opened window. I tossed the pillows and the comforter back on the bed, searching for any clues pointing to their captors. But there was nothing. I checked their phones on their nightstand. No signal.

  Disbelief took me as I sat on the edge of
the bed.

  “Damn it.” The room blurred behind my welling tears. “Damn it. Damn it.” My gaze shifted to the ground, elbows on my knees. In front of me was a piece of parchment paper, its edges jagged.

  “Henderbell,” I mouthed the strange word written in black ornamental letters. “Henderbell,” I repeated, picking it up.

  I folded the parchment, tucked it in my pocket, and went into my bedroom to retrieve my phone. There was also no signal. Disappointed, I dropped it back on the nightstand and rushed downstairs.

  “Anything?” Ava asked the moment I was in view, hands still stretched over the fire.

  “Nothing,” I replied. “And none of the phones are working.”

  She sat on the couch and grabbed a pillow, holding it between her arms. “We can’t just leave them. Who knows where they took them?”

  “We’ll think of something.” My attention shifted to the Christmas tree, my mind scurrying to find a way to fight against the nightmare this night had become.

  “Maybe it’s us,” Ava whispered, the reflection of the fire displayed in her eyes.

  “What?”

  “There’s trouble everywhere we go.” She shrugged. “Mom and Dad are always at it when we’re around. And now we get here and Grandma and Grandpa are taken by those things. Maybe it’s us, Enzo. Maybe we’re cursed.”

  Sorrow gripped me.

  “Don’t say that.” I placed an arm around her shoulder. “Hey, we’ll figure this out. This is just fear talking, okay?”

  She gave me a nod of agreement, wiping her nose with a wrist.

  “And we aren’t cursed,” I continued, struggling to believe my own words. “We’re just in an unfortunate situation. We just have to figure this all out.”

  Beside her was the frame with my drawing, the object triggering a knot in my throat. I grabbed it from the couch and placed it on my lap, the lights of the tree reflected on the glass.

  My brows furrowed at the sight of a speckle of light glistening on the paper’s surface.