But he was also still thinking about what Faye had said. He was thinking about the darkness in his house, the darkness inside of him. And he was wondering if she could possibly be right about the miracles hidden there. Maybe that was why he still had so many questions. Maybe that was why he kept coming here, day after day.

And so, as he stared at the witch waving them toward her, he found himself saying, “Maybe. I guess. I mean, of course. Of course we should. To ask about the memorial stone. Just about that though. Nothing else.”

Next to him, Faye pulled her hood over her head. He heard her swinging her cloak around herself, the black material swooshing as it cocooned her completely. “Okay,” she said, her voice muffled by a layer of velvet. “But follow my lead. You don’t know about witches. I do.”

“She’s not a witch,” Wunder said.

“Wundie. Listen,” Faye said. “You’re the miracle expert. When someone turns water into wine, I’ll ask your opinion. But I’m a student of the paranormal. When a mysterious ancient woman wearing a robe summons children to a haunted house, you should listen to me. Now let’s go.”

Chapter 16

For years, Wunder had passed by the DoorWay House going to and from school. For years, he had peered through the vines and leaves and branches at its towers and windows. For years, he had watched the spirals.

But in all that time, he had never climbed the DoorWay House’s steps. He had never touched its wood. He had never peeked in its windows. He had always felt it was a place that could not be disturbed, a sacred place.

Up close for the first time, he found that the house’s wood wasn’t smooth, the way it appeared from a distance. Up close, it was splintered and peeling, rough and unfinished looking.

And up close, the witch was like the house. She had more wrinkles than Wunder had ever seen. It was as if her skin was a paper bag that had been crumpled into the tiniest possible ball, then spread back out. Her hair, however, was long and thick and pure black.

As they mounted the steps, Wunder met the witch’s gaze. Her eyes were so dark that he couldn’t even see her pupils, and they reminded him of someone. He looked away, back at the house.

“DoorWay Tree wood,” the witch said. Her voice was scratchy and very soft. It sounded like it was coming from far away.

“What?”

“The house.” She gestured behind her. “It’s made of wood from the Arbor liminis. The DoorWay Tree.”

She was staring at him, but Wunder focused on the house. He followed the curve of the spiral closest to him with his eyes. It was a perfect, perfect circle. “I saw it spinning once,” he said.

Next to him, Faye yanked the hood off her head and turned to him, shocked.

The witch nodded slowly. “It can look like that,” she said. Then she smiled. “Come inside. Come and have tea with me, Wunder.”