Nick looked at Biff too; he was panting like one of the dogs. Nick hoped that the boy wouldn’t hyperventilate and suddenly pass out; he had no idea what the dogs might do if he did. The animals seemed to be trained to respond to motion—for all he knew, suddenly dropping to the ground could be the command for “dinner.”

The witch spoke to the boy in a deep voice: “Who dares to invade my privacy?”

Biff tried to speak but nothing came out.

“I asked him to bring me up here,” Nick explained.

She didn’t take her eye off the boy. “Did you climb my fence, boy?”

He managed a nod.

“Did you not see my warnings? Did you dare to cross my hex on the night of a full moon? You foolish boy—whatever befalls you next is on your own head.” With that, she raised one finger and slashed an X across her chest, then wiggled her fingers in an ominous mystic sign. When she did, all four dogs rose up on their hind legs and began to slowly turn in circles, baying at the moon.

That was more than Biff could handle. He turned on his heels and bolted back through the woods toward the fence, crashing through the underbrush like a wounded water buffalo.

The witch snapped her fingers and made a sweeping gesture with both arms; the three black dogs took off silently after him through the woods.

Nick watched until the last of the dogs disappeared into the brush, then turned and looked at the witch. “When you said, ‘Whatever befalls you,’ I’m hoping that didn’t include being eaten by dogs.”

“They won’t harm him—unless I tell them to.” She stepped in front of Nick again. “So who are you—the high school science teacher, come to prove to his star pupil that witches don’t really exist? He’ll need some convincing now.”

“I don’t think Biff is anybody’s ‘star pupil,’” Nick said. “Too many head tackles.” He paused. “You know, you’re a hard person to get ahold of.”

“I like it that way.”

“In Endor they told me you only talk to animals.”

“That’s because animals listen. They’re even capable of understanding simple commands, like ‘Do not trespass.’”

“Animals can read?”

“As well as you seem to. Why are you on my land?”

“I need your help.”

“You’ve got a funny way of asking for it.”

“Can you suggest a better way? They told me you don’t have a phone.”

“That’s right.”

“What was I supposed to do, mail a postcard to ‘Witch’s Lair, Endor, USA’?”

“This is not Endor—this is my land. The people of Endor have never lifted a finger to help me, and I have no desire to help them.”

“I’m not from Endor.”

“Good—at least you have something going for you.”