Barrow Hill: The Wolfsbane Prophecies 1

The moon appeared bright and yellow, like a cat's eye, as it broke through the clouds over Barrow Hill. It had been a warm summer day, but the night had a slight chill in the air, and Luke hugged himself against the cold as he looked upon the mansion ahead of him.

Darkened windows stared vacantly back at him, though there was an occasional flicker in one of the lower rooms. Luke chained his bike to a lamppost and approached the house. The chilly breeze had subsided momentarily, replaced by a comforting warmth radiating from the house as he walked the few steps onto the porch.

It had been seven years since he last visited his stepfather's mother in Barrow Hill, a memory he'd rather have forgotten. While exploring the ancient house, he had come upon a large old mirror that belonged to her, and accidentally broke it. It was his stepfather's idea to come back here, and Luke had argued against it until his case was lost.

Margaret Donovan was a nice woman, but a little odd in Luke's eyes. She was very superstitious, the sort who always left umbrellas outside before going indoors, and she carried a rabbit's foot every time she left the house. She had even missed his thirteenth birthday.

Luke wiped his feet on the welcome mat, which had been missing the W for as long as he could remember, and rapped on the door. As he waited, he looked around at the front yard and whistled.

The short dry grass, which was brown during the day, looked blue at night. Near the porch a few a few bushes flowered; their blossoms were bright and healthy due to Mrs Donovan’s daily watering. No fence marked the borders of her property, but Luke knew that everything was hers up to the forest that surrounded the hill and meadow where the house stood.

Suddenly, a black shape darted across the front path and into the stand of trees off to the east of the house. It moved very quickly, like a shadow that didn't want to be seen. Luke stared for a moment, startled.

The front door flung open, and the old woman appeared in the doorway. "What are you doing standing out on the porch so late? Come inside," she said, beckoning him indoors.

They stepped into a quaint living room to the left of the foyer. Luke sat down in a plush armchair and sighed. An old grandfather clock tolled eight times, though Luke's watch said it was only seven minutes to eight. He supposed this was out of superstition.

"Scott told me you were coming," she said, "but he said you'd be here earlier."

"I was held up, Mrs. Donovan. I'm sorry." He called her that not only out of respect, but more that she didn't feel like his grandmother. She was more like a kindly old neighbor.

"I'd never be out at this time of night, even in the summertime. There are..." Mrs. Donovan paused for a moment. "...things outside, and they frighten me." She shivered a little. Luke was reminded of the black shape as Mrs. Donovan peered between the curtains at the front lawn.

The light bulb flickered a few times. "That damned light bulb has been blinking all week, but I can't stand up on a chair to reach it." Mrs. Donovan patted her hip. "There are light bulbs on the shelf in the basement. Would you be a gentleman..."

"I'll change the bulb for you," Luke broke in, smiling. Mrs. Donovan scratched his hair, causing him to blush. He walked into the kitchen, where the stairs leading to the basement were. Over the countertop hung a painting of a gray wolf hunting in the snow. She hadn't had this painting last time he visited, but then again that was seven years ago.

The basement door creaked as Luke pulled it open. Mrs. Donovan rarely went downstairs for anything, if at all. Last he remembered, she stayed in the living room the entire time, not even going upstairs to bed.

Luke flipped the light switch on, and the stairwell was bathed in bright fluorescent light. The shelf was just around the corner from the foot of the stairs, and was filled with boxes and plastic containers, books, tools and an empty propane tank. He reached into one of the boxes, clearly marked 'light bulbs', and rummaged through it for the largest wattage bulb he could find.

A silvery glimmer in a small box on the lowest shelf caught Luke's eye as he turned away from the shelves. Luke peeked into the red cardboard box, and found a tarnished silver ring, engraved with a Celtic knot design and set with a pale green gemstone, among crumpled paper and other junk. He pocketed the ring and returned upstairs.

"You were down there for quite some time." Mrs. Donovan gave Luke an inquisitive look. "What took you so long?"

Luke fished the ring out of his pocket and held it out. "I found this in one of the boxes. Whose is it?"

Strangely, the tarnish on the ring came off rather easily as Luke fingered it in his hand. Even the gemstone seemed to sparkle more. Now he wished he hadn't mentioned or showed the ring.

"Ah, I haven't seen that in many years. It belonged to my oldest daughter, Ophelia. I don't remember where or how she got it, but she loved it dearly." Then her face went pallid, and she frowned. "She disappeared suddenly when she was sixteen years old."

"May I have it? That is, if you don't want it?" Luke hoped that Mrs. Donovan would say yes. He gave her a pleading look.

"I don't want anything to do with that ring. You may have it, but for my sake keep that thing out of my sight!" She hit her fist down on the end table by her rocking chair.

"Thanks, grandma," he said happily as he raced upstairs, not even realizing what he had called her.

The guest room was the first room on the left, and still had no door on it. Either it came off and wasn't replaced, or his stepfather's father had never put on in before he died. Whatever the reason, Luke wished the room had a door so he could have some privacy.

Luke dropped his backpack onto the bed and sat down on the window-seat that overlooked the hill. Barrow Hill it was called, though it looked like any ordinary hill to him. He would explore the hill tomorrow morning after breakfast, but for now he just wanted to settle into bed.

Black shadows swept over Luke as he lay in the four poster bed in the guest room. The shadows had no shape and moved in seemingly aimless directions. As Luke watched the shadows he felt his body turning cold, even under the thick comforter. He rolled over in the bed, his arm drooping over the side. The silver ring which he was still wearing slipped off and made a tiny ringing sound as it hit the hardwood floor.

Then suddenly all the hovering shadows let out a deep low howl as they migrated toward the window and slipped through the cracks. The chill left Luke's body, and the air was now still. He sat up in the bed and stared down at the ring on the floor. The green gemstone looked back at him like an eye, flashing in the moonlight as it broke through the clouds. Luke shivered as he pulled his gaze away from the ring. It was as though the stone was burning a hole into his mind, but after he had turned away, the feeling left him. He put the ring into a drawer in the nightstand and returned to sleep.

A rooster cawed from an indiscernible direction, rousing Luke from his sleep. He yawned as he stood up and stretched his arms. The morning came a little too soon. He wished to go back to bed, but he knew that Mrs. Donovan would disapprove.

Luke stepped wearily down the stairs into the living room, where Mrs. Donovan already awaited him. She was seated in her chair, immersed in a romance novel and humming a tune to herself. Upon Luke's entrance, she looked up from her book and smiled at him. It was a completely different reaction than the one she had given Luke the night before, and an unexpected one as well.

"Good morning," Luke greeted, returning the smile.

"Did you sleep well?" asked Mrs. Donovan set her book down and took off the pair of reading glasses she was wearing.

Luke didn't dare tell her about the shadows or how they left after taking off the ring. "It wasn't home, but I slept fairly well. Would you like some breakfast?" he asked, hoping she'd welcome his offer.

"Ah, breakfast is already made, and out on the table for you, my boy." Mrs. Donovan stood up slowly and ambled toward the kitchen. “Don't just stand there. Come in and eat!"

As Luke entered the kitchen he was struck by the delicious aroma of a cooked meal. The table was set and prepared with a large breakfast of pancakes, scrambled eggs, toast and jam, milk and orange juice. Luke was excited, for his typical breakfast consisted of a bowl of cereal and a small glass of juice. He didn't remember the last time he had had a large prepared breakfast like this, but he didn’t question it.

Luke sat down at the table and began taking pancakes off the stack and placing them on his plate. Mrs. Donovan poured herself a glass of orange juice and watched with a smile as Luke began eating his breakfast. "I have something I'd like you to do for me today, if you don't mind. And before you ask, there will be some money in it for you."

A bite of eggs still in his mouth, Luke swallowed a gulp of juice to wash it down before answering. "I don't mind, and you don't have to pay me, Mrs. Donovan. What do you need done?"

"Well, the grass out back is getting to be pretty long." Mrs. Donovan sighed as she looked out the small window that overlooked the backyard. "Since Scott didn't cut it the last time he came over, it has gotten worse."

Luke nodded as he continued his breakfast. It appeared as though he wasn't going to do much exploring after all. He sighed. After Mrs. Donovan left the room, Luke carried the dishes over to the sink to do later. He looked up and noticed that the painting of the wolf was different: the wolf was missing! The trees and snow, and the moonlight were all still there, but the figure of the wolf was clearly missing from the picture. He made a note to ask Mrs. Donovan about that when he was finished cutting the grass.

There was no door to the back, so Luke had to go out the front door and around through the side gate. As he stepped out onto the front sidewalk, he remembered the black shape that ran past him the night before. He shivered as he turned off the path and looped around to the gate on the side of the house that led to the backyard.

The lawn mower, which was his stepfather's, was stowed in a small shed connected to the back of the house, among other lawn equipment and gardening tools. He filled the mower with gas and looked out at Barrow Hill. It looked much bigger from outside than it did from up in the guest room.

He had mowed about half the yard, and as he looked at his watch he saw that was done in much less time than he originally thought he would. He returned the mower to its place in the shed, and turned to face the Hill.

The house was actually situated near the top of the Hill, so the opposite side led down into a valley deep in the forest. He had never been over the hill before, and always wondered as to what was on the other side.

A wide patch of clouds stretched across the morning sky, blocking most of the sun's rays as they passed overhead. It was still early in the day, and Luke was sure that Mrs. Donovan wouldn't mind if he explored a bit before lunch. He made his way up the hill, the freshly cut grass like carpet beneath his feet.

As he reached the top, Luke turned around to look back at the house. He was higher up than he originally thought, eye level with the second floor window of his room, where he could see someone looking out of at him. Perhaps it was Mrs. Donovan on her cleaning rounds. He turned back to scope the view of the other side of the hill.

The stand of trees stretched around this side of the hill, though there was still a wide plain of grass between the hill and the forest. Of course the grass here hadn't been cut for what appeared to be months, but the length of it. Luke scrambled down toward the plain, and noticed that there was part of the hill that had been cut out and held up with wood planks. It did indeed live up to the name of Barrow Hill, as it was truly made into a barrow, but for how long Luke couldn't guess.

The entrance to the barrow was high yet only wide enough for two people to walk side by side. Luke couldn't see far inside, but could hear something stirring within. He took a few steps inside, curiosity overcoming him.