She felt a moment of doubt, but then she remembered something. “The woodpile!” Fargus had said he’d been hiding behind the woodpile when he’d found the passage! Her heart pounded as she looked at the woodpile in the corner. She approached it, expecting to see something strange, but it looked like every other pile of wood she’d ever seen. She circled it and saw nothing peculiar on the other side, either. She held up the claganmeter.
She watched it for a full minute, the second hands still ticking together perfectly, when all of a sudden, it was as if the clock on the right hiccuped: The minute hand jumped backward instead of forward! Josephine’s heart leaped. She checked again, and sure enough, the clock on the right was now running about two seconds behind the clock on the left. She marked the exact spot with a stick from the woodpile.
She then grabbed a second stick and tossed it toward the spot. And suddenly it was as if a thunderstorm had hit the cellar. Wind whipped through the air and there was a bolt of light and a horrible cracking sound, and the wooden stick was gone—sucked right into the hole.
“Blacky! Quick! I’ve found it!” she exclaimed.
The Brother came running but was blocked by the woodpile. He lifted a mighty claw and sent the logs flying across the room. Josephine ducked, and when she looked up, he was gazing at her questioningly.
“You two go first,” she said. “You should go together. Just think about home and your mother, and you’ll get back to her.”
He tilted his head at her, and Josephine felt that he understood. He turned toward his brother and snorted at him twice. Smoky walked up next to him and he, too, tilted his head at Josephine, as if in thanks.
“Here,” she said. “It’s right here,” and she pointed to the spot where the stick had disappeared.
Blacky took a step toward Josephine and nuzzled her with his nose. She was thoroughly disgusted as she felt his snot on her neck, but she knew he meant it as affection, so she didn’t pull away. She stroked his neck and said, “I’ll miss you, too.”
When he had finished, he looked at his brother, and the two of them clomped into the spot Josephine had marked. Again, wind blew through the cellar, a light flashed and popped, and the Brothers were swallowed into a void.
Josephine couldn’t believe it! She had felt it happen to herself, but it was another thing altogether to see it from the outside. She just hoped that the Brothers ended up in a good place.
Now it was her turn. She took a deep breath and thought of her house, her collection of books, and her father—his stern, stubborn face that she knew and loved.
And she stepped forward into the wind and the light.
FIFTY-TWO
Josephine landed with a hard thud. She was disoriented and for a moment forgot what she was doing. But she looked up and saw the interior of the shed, and she knew she had made it home. She jumped to her feet and flew out the door, then stopped dead in her tracks. Sitting outside not four feet from the shed door was her father, asleep in an armchair that was normally in the living room.
“Father?” she blurted.
He sprang up with his arms raised, ready to fight. “Wha—?” he exclaimed.
Josephine recoiled. Mr. Russing spun around, blinking and confused. His eyes finally settled on Josephine, and his face contorted.
“Josephine?” he managed.
“Yes, sir,” she answered, surprised to hear him speak directly to her. Her hand automatically reached up to smooth her hair down. She could only imagine what she looked like with her dirt-streaked face, muddy dress, and gloveless hands.
He gaped at her, and Josephine squirmed under his gaze, her heart still racing from her journey.
After a long silence her father twisted his face again and sputtered, “Y-y-you’re back.”
Josephine couldn’t tell if there was relief or disappointment in his voice, so she only replied, “Yes.”
He approached her and put his hand on her back, giving her a little push in the direction of the house. She obeyed and began walking toward the back porch. Josephine felt all the excitement and energy of her adventure being sucked out of her.
So this was the way it would be: exactly as it had been before.
She marched up the porch steps and into the kitchen, where her father pointed to her chair at the dinner table. Josephine plopped down and stared at him. There was an added stiffness to Mr. Russing, a tension that filled his body. Was it anger?
Josephine suddenly felt nervous. Perhaps she was in trouble for having skipped school. Or maybe her father thought she had run away. She began to blabber. “It was an accident, really. I didn’t mean to leave, I didn’t mean to go—”
“Shh,” her father warned as he put the kettle on the stove. Josephine sighed and put her head down on the table. She felt tears beginning to burn. She already missed Ida and Fargus. She bet that Ida would have known what to say right now. And Fargus might have even run up and kicked her father in the leg. The thought made the corners of her mouth turn up.
Her father caught the look and said, “What’s that? Why are you smiling?”
She looked up and replied, “Nothing, sir.”
He then asked forcefully, “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, realizing that he’d asked a question about her. He is actually worried about me. She felt desperate to keep him talking.
“No, Father. I’m not hurt. How are you?”
He seemed surprised at the question. “I’m fine, Josephine. Fine.”
She tried to explain herself again. “I went away, but I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry if I—”
“I know,” he interrupted.
He knows? How could he possibly know?
Once again Josephine felt dread in her belly. It was the same feeling of dread she’d experienced the first time she’d heard the Master’s full name: Leopold Reginald Russing, the same name as her father. She’d never been able to figure out how it could’ve happened. She could admit to herself now that somewhere in the back of her head she’d been terrified that her father was the Master. But now she knew that was impossible. She had met the Master, and he was just a young boy, destined to stay a child forever. That is, until Fargus stabbed him and he became a baby again. She wondered if that baby would be able to grow up normally. If so, then . . . perhaps . . .
Josephine’s heart stopped. Her father. That baby, the Master, had grown up to be her father!
She heard screaming in her head. She wanted to throw up. Her father removed the steaming teakettle from the stove and the shrieking ceased. Josephine watched as he took teacups out of the cupboard, as if everything was normal. But her world was falling apart.
