And now the witch had promised a miracle. She had promised it in writing in a letter delivered all over Branch Hill. And Wunder believed her.

He believed in miracles again.

And if the witch needed a DoorWay Tree to do one, then he would get her a DoorWay Tree.

“We’ll do it,” he said again. “But how?”

The witch nodded her approval. “We are not gods,” she said. “We cannot create something from nothing. We must use what exists already, change it to something new.”

“So we need … a seed?” Wunder guessed.

The witch shook her head. “DoorWay Trees cross-pollinate, you see. That means they need each other to create seeds. But there are so few of them now, too few. Until there are more, there is only one way left to grow a new DoorWay Tree. You must plant a piece of the tree itself—a piece that connects to the trunk. A branch.”

“But how can we get that?” Wunder asked. “If there are hardly any left.”

“There is one I know of,” the witch said. “In the town of Benedict. That is where you must go.”

Faye, her wig askew, her white clothing unraveling, spoke up. “These trees,” she said. “They sound pretty powerful. Pretty … paranormal. Who planted them?”

The witch lifted her white-cloth-wrapped shoulders once. “I don’t know,” she said. “I have not been so far. I know more than you, I am sure, but still very little.”

“But are we allowed to plant another one?”

The witch smiled. Her perfect teeth were tiny points of brightness gleaming in the candlelight. “So much is left up to us. More than we realize, often more than we want. There was a DoorWay Tree here once, long ago. And now there will be one again. For this town. For them.” She waved in the direction of the cemetery. “For me. But I am getting to be an old woman. I need help. You three, you are my help. You are my miracles. Yes, yes, yes. You are my miracles.”

Chapter 32

In the end, they all said yes. And on Sunday morning, early, early, early, Wunder snuck out of his house for the second time in his life.

This time he left a note taped to the front door:

Went to help Davy deliver papers. Be home tonight.

It would take seven hours to get to Benedict by train and then seven hours to get back to Branch Hill, so he wouldn’t be home until after dinner. He hoped his note would keep his parents from worrying or doing anything drastic like calling the police.

Then again, he wasn’t entirely sure that either of them would realize he was gone.

It was still dark as he carefully wheeled his bike out of the shed. He had attached his red wagon to it the night before, with a duffel bag full of supplies stowed inside. Once he got to the street and started pedaling, the supplies clanked and clacked with every pedal rotation, a mobile percussion set.