For the previous Old House on Elm Street, go here!

For a moment, Isadora couldn’t breathe.  It took her a moment to realize she was staring at Raven through Poe’s cloak, his arm clutched around her ribs and his arm trembling as he held the cloak over them.  She glanced up at him.

“Don’t say a word,” he mouthed.  “If we’re not careful, she’ll feel us.”

Isadora gulped and drew closer to him, further into the cape’s folds.  She didn’t see the smile on his face.

“I see you got your body back,” Raven drawled, eyeing Mrs. Watkins.  “Well, put back together at least.”  She smirked.

“And I see you’re just as hideous as ever,” Mrs. Watkins said with a serene smile.  “How charming.”

Raven hissed, her red eyes glittering.  “You won’t be so pleased with yourself when you see what I’ve found.  Your reign over those ridiculous people you keep stuffed in that tiny room is over.  They’re mine now.”

“And what makes you think that?” Mrs. Watkins drawled, her voice dangerously low.  Samora moved so she stood before Isadora and Poe.

“This,” Raven hissed.  From behind the six headed cat, she pulled out a black dahlia.  Closing her pale thin fingers around it, she cackled as Mrs. Watkin’s eyes widened.

“Yes, yes,” she gloated, her eyes blazing with insanity.  “You know now.  You know.”

Mrs. Watkin’s eyes darted to the left.  Her tounge flicked against her lips.  Raven’s pale crusty lips curled in a humorless smile.

Isadora watched, frozen behind Samora’s large frame.

Dashing to the left, Mrs. Watkins reached for a glass vial and threw a black powder in the air with her right hand, coating Raven.  Cackling, Raven stuffed the black dahlia in one of the cat’s six heads and threw it on the ground.

“To the Great Hall!” she shouted, shielding her face as the powder rained down on her.  “Now!”

Yowling, the cat rushed up the cobblestone path, winding through the crooked gravestones and sinister trees.  Snarling, Raven dropped to her knees, stuffing her hand in the earth as Mrs. Watkin’s threw a toad at her head and began to shout.

“Powder of night,

Toad of fright,

grow together into an awful sight.

Twist and turn,

Hope and yearn,

Freeze for the rest of time.”

As Mrs. Watkin’s finished her words, Raven shouted:

“Dead and dying,

Corpses and bones,

Rise to dance,

on the ashes of old.”

“Oh no,” Mrs. Watkins muttered as Raven stared up at her, smirking as a black ooze bubbled at her toes.  The thick sludge burbled and boiled, rising higher and higher around Raven’s thin frame.

“Just some friends to entertain you while I wait for this amateur spell of yours to wear off,” Raven cackled, the black ooze slithering up her arms and chest and pouring into her mouth.  “I’ll be back–and you’ll be mine.”  The black ooze slid over her face and head, her lifeless black eyes staring out at them as her words faded in the air.

Samora exhaled, her red and black body shuddering.  “That’s scary.”

“Is she really frozen?” Poe asked, his voice muffled behind the cape.

“Yup,” Mrs. Watkins replied, shoving bottles and vials and books in the pockets of her skirt as fast as she could.  “For a few minutes, at least.”

“What are we going to do?” Isadora asked, stepping out of Poe’s grasp and out of the cloak.  She eyed Raven’s black form nervously.

“First, we’re going to get that cat,” Mrs. Watkin’s muttered, shoving some snakes up her sleeves.  “Then, we’re going put a protection spell around the party.  After that, we’ll hustle into the main part of the house and get ready for a fight.”  She dropped two protesting toads in her boots and eyed the clock owl.  “If I was you, I’d hide,” she advised.

Taking her advice, the owl scuttled into the shadows.  “You too,” Mrs. Watkins told Samora.  “Get out of here.  Get as far away as you can.”

Samora’s chin set stubbornly.  “But the children…”

“–Will be fine,” Mrs. Watkins replied firmly.  “Go.”  Biting her lip, Samora nodded and fled.

“What do you want me to do?” Isadora asked, sticking out her chest bravely.

Mrs. Watkins grey eyes bored into hers.  “Watch, and see,” she replied.  Before Isadora could ask what that meant, she shoved a final ferret into her blouse and nodded sharply.  “Let’s go find that stupid cat.”  Rushing out of the room at amazing speed for a woman who was a head in a crystal ball a few moments before, Isadora and Poe trailed behind her.

“Why do we need the cat?” Poe shouted, leaping over a rotten log Isadora nearly tripped over.

“He’s got the black dahlia,” Mrs. Watkins shouted back, barreling through the graveyard.

“So?” Poe shouted.  “It’s a flower.”

“It’s not just a flower,” Mrs. Watkins bellowed, kicking at a arm waving from the ground. “It will be our undoing.”

“Uhhhh…..” Poe stuttered.  “Mrs. Watkins?”

“That flower was picked from the Devil’s Garden,” Mrs. Watkins shouted, running deeper into the night.  “Just one of its seeds holds the power to change reality, another people’s hearts.  The entire flower itself….well, a person could do anything.”

“Mrs. Watkins?”  Poe shouted, his voice cracking.  “Mrs. Watkins!”

“Don’t interrupt, Poe,” Mrs. Watkins hissed, tripping over a root and tumbling to the ground.  “You see, the flower is used in the most powerful of–ooof!”

“ZOMBIES!” Isadora screamed before Poe could stutter Mrs. Watkins’ again.  “We’re being chased by skeletons and zombies!”

Glancing up, Mrs. Watkins’ face paled in the moonlight.  Staggering behind them was a crowd of brittle skeletons, molting zombies and grunting mummies.

“I was afraid of this,” she grunted.  Rolling up her sleeves, she began searching her pockets.  “Poe, run to the hall and set every protection spell you know!” she shouted.  “Isadora, find the cat and get the flower!”

“How?” Isadora bellowed, dodging a skeleton and kicking at a bumbling mummy.  “I can barely see anything in this light.”

“I told you, Isadora!” Mrs. Watkins bellowed, flinging clouds of dust in the air.  “You can see what others don’t.  Trust your eyes, and listen to your heart.  Now, go!  Go!  Or everyone else is dead!  I’ll clear a path.”  Placing her hands together, she blew.  A giant whirlwind zigged zagged down the path of demented corpses, knocking them over like bowling pins.

“Go!”  she shouted.  “Go!”

With a dry throat and a heavy pit in her stomach, Isadora ran through the night.

To be continued…

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  Tomorrow we have a tasty recipe and Friday, a new Dallas Jean! Saturday, we have more whimsical fun!! Stay tuned!!!