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CHAPTER FIVE

T he backyard sloped downward, as I said, so I went carefully.

Beside me, Sebastian had no trouble, but I was extremely glad I’d been wearing my tennis shoes when I stepped through the door that led from my apartment to my Grandmother’s house.

They gave me some traction that I would have lacked if I’d just been running around in a pair of fuzzy socks, which is my usual way when I’m home.

Despite the many fallen leaves, there was still plenty of greenish grass poking out. Also, most of the leaves had been raked up into huge drifts at the bases of a couple of the trees.

I frowned when I saw the leaf piles. Had someone else been out here, raking?

Or did the house—Morris—take care of the leaves himself somehow?

I’ve always loved fantasy books and Robin McKinley’s retelling of Beauty and the Beast came to mind—where the invisible servants take care of all the chores in the enchanted palace. Was it something like that?

I thought that it must be. After all, I’d seen no one else anywhere near and it was clear no one lived in Morris now.

The rooms I had toured so far were neat, if somewhat cluttered, but there was a fine patina of dust on most of the surfaces.

I would have to do some cleaning when I got back, I thought.

Down near the bottom of the hill I found the apple tree, just where my childhood memories suggested it would be.

It was bigger than any apple tree I’d ever seen, with black bark, a thick trunk, and gnarled branches that reached for the sky with skeletal fingers.

Yet somehow most of its leaves were still intact and peeking out from beneath them were the biggest apples I had ever seen.

I reached up and picked one. The tree seemed to shiver as I did and a sudden wind rattled its branches making a high, haunting note, but I didn’t think anything of it. I was too busy studying the apple in my hand.

It was so big I almost couldn’t get my fingers around it.

And just like in my memories, it had a smooth, golden skin that was dotted all over with scarlet freckles.

When I brought it to my nose to sniff it, the scent that came from it was absolutely heavenly .

I could tell right away that this apple would be equally good for eating raw or for baking, which is kind of unusual.

My mouth was watering for the sweet-tart flavor and I was just about to take a bite when I heard a sound like a rumbling roar. Then Sebastian, who had been nosing at a pile of leaves under the next tree over, rushed over to me and began to hiss.

I looked down at my cat in alarm. All the hair on his body was standing out, making him look twice as big as usual, and his whiskers were trembling as he let out another full-throated yowl. His pointed ears were flattened to his skull and his eyes had narrowed to angry slits.

“Sebastian? What is it?” I asked anxiously. And then I heard the roaring again—only this time it formed words.

“Who the fuck are you?” a deep, rumbling voice demanded. “And what the hell do you think you’re doing here?”