Scare Scape Page 19

  The three boys had barely breathed while Brown told his story. Once it ended, they all suddenly gasped as if surfacing from a long dive.

  “What do you mean, you never saw him again?” Robbie asked. “Didn’t you call the police?”

  “I probably should have,” Brown replied. “But King died later that night, and I didn’t want to get involved. I should have come forward, I know I should have, but I figured he was dead. What more could the police have done?”

  “What happened after you left?” Robbie asked.

  Brown shook his head. “I don’t know. I drove straight home and locked the door. I always presumed King had been stumbling around his garden, still looking for me, when he tripped and fell down the well. It made sense at the time. He was crazed with anger.”

  Morton felt an odd mixture of disappointment and denial. It seemed absolutely certain that King was a murderous mad man after all. But there were parts of the puzzle missing. “That still doesn’t explain why he buried the gargoyle,” Morton said.

  “Buried it?” Brown said, shooting a curious look at Morton. “King buried the gargoyle?”

  Morton nodded. “Just a few feet from the well. I found it when I was mowing the lawn just after we moved in. Dad said the frost must have pushed it up, so it couldn’t have been buried very deep. I thought it might have been done in a hurry.”

  Brown rubbed his chin and seemed to drift off into thought. “Of course,” he said quietly.

  “Of course what?” Morton prodded.

  Brown turned to face the boys directly. “If King performed the ceremony and then fell down the well, wouldn’t his death have been the equivalent of a sacrifice?”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “Ever since I first suspected that something unnatural was going on,” Brown explained, “I began to wonder. First, where the gargoyle had vanished to, and second, how the wishes could have been activated without a human sacrifice. This answers both questions. If King fell down the well, then maybe the other-dimensional powers, or whatever they are, accepted that as a sacrifice.”

  “It still doesn’t explain why he buried the gargoyle though,” Morton said, holding out hope for a better explanation.

  “He was crazy,” Brown said dismissively. “Trying to understand a crazy man is like trying to build a house out of sand. Best not waste your energy.”

  “So you think he’s dead, then?” James asked.

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” Brown shot back.

  The boys exchanged glances. “We don’t know,” Morton said honestly. “But the Zombie Twins tried to steal the gargoyle. They’re obviously on some kind of mission. We wondered if they might be working for King.”

  Brown’s eyes darted nervously around him. “Then we had better be extra cautious,” he said. “We should perform the ceremony in King’s attic. If we keep it locked, we’ll be safe in there. Can you carry the gargoyle up to get it ready?”

  The boys nodded.

  “I’ll take care of the rest,” Brown said. “But we don’t have much time. The ceremony will only work while the moon is in the sky.”

  “How do you know all this?” Morton asked.

  “King’s book describes how to reverse the wishes in great detail,” Brown said reassuringly. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back with it as soon as the sun goes down, and we’ll make this all go away.”

  The boys clambered out of the car and Brown crunched it into gear. “Oh yes, and you’ll need all three fingers,” he said, through the driver’s side window. “Do you still have them?”

  James and Morton nodded.

  “Good. That’s the most important thing.”

  The boys watched in silence as Brown drove away.

  “I guess you were right about him,” Robbie said. “We should have told him sooner.”

  Morton nodded but didn’t say anything. Something about Brown’s explanation wasn’t quite right.

  Not long afterward Melissa and Wendy ambled gloomily down the driveway. The boys, who had been waiting on the porch, pounced on them at once and told them all about the day’s events. When the story was finished, Melissa became unusually silent. She stood for a long time peeling loose flakes of paint from the side of the house.

  “Let me get this straight,” she said at last. “Your creepy history teacher is coming here tonight to help us reverse the wishes?”

  “That’s a funny way of putting it, but yes,” James said.

  “I don’t know,” Melissa said wearily. “Are you sure we can trust this guy? Why didn’t he say something sooner?”

  “For the same reason I didn’t tell you about my wish or you didn’t tell us where your wish came from. Because it’s all so weird and spooky that nobody wants to talk about it. Anyway, we really don’t have much choice, do we? It’s tonight or …”

  “I know,” Melissa said. “You’re a nine-foot flesh-eating centipede by the end of the week. I get it, I just don’t like it.”

  Morton remained silent, but somewhere inside he didn’t like it either.

  Later that evening, Dad invited Wendy and Robbie to supper and tried not to show his disappointment when nobody seemed to be hungry. “Is it exam week?” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a miserable bunch of children.”

  “We’re sorry, Mr. Clay,” Wendy said. “It must be the change in weather.”

  “I suppose I could pretend to believe that,” Dad said. “After all, it is almost Halloween. Actually, I’m surprised Morton hasn’t started decorating already. Usually the house is covered in fake cobwebs and plastic skeletons by now.”

  Morton feigned a smile. “I’ll be sure to put them up soon,” he said, although nothing could be further from his mind.

  “I should hope so. You know, one of the reasons I chose this house was because I knew you would love it.”

  “I thought it was because it was cheap,” Melissa said.

  “That too,” Dad confessed with a sheepish grin.

  It was almost completely dark by the time Dad left for work, and as Morton watched him drive away he noticed that the full moon was already hovering over the rooftops and the swarm of bats was flapping around the turret again.

  “I can’t believe it’s going to be over tonight,” Melissa said as they stepped back into the kitchen.

  “I know,” James said, stuffing a fistful of coals into his mouth eagerly. “It’s so amazing. It almost makes you want to sing,” and James opened his mouth but instead of singing a small yellow cloud of smoke billowed out.

  Melissa snatched the bag of coals from James’s hands. “Will you stop eating those things!” she said irritably. “They’re making you weird.”

  “They are?” James said naively. Nobody answered, but Wendy gave him a small nod and a sympathetic smile.

  “Oops!” James said, putting his hand to his mouth and giggling. “Well, I think I’ll go get some food to tide me over.”

  “What, now?” Melissa exclaimed.

  “No time like the present,” James said, strolling out onto the porch.

  “James! We have to get things ready. We need to get the gargoyle into King’s attic and …”

  “I’m leaving!” James growled, suddenly not sounding like James at all.

  Morton felt his whole body tense up. Everybody fell into sudden silence.

  “I think you should stay here,” Wendy said after a long pause.

  “And I think you should mind your own business,” James said, removing his glasses and staring threateningly at her.

  Wendy let out a small scream and even Robbie gasped. Morton felt a pulse of pure horror run through his veins. James’s eyes had changed again. The whites were now a vivid green, laced with deep-purple veins surrounding an enormous octagonal pupil. The wishes really were getting stronger. It was only then that Morton realized why. “It’s the full moon,” he said. “I should have realized sooner. Ancient magic often follows the cycles of the moon. James, if we don’t reverse the wishes, you’re going t
o turn tonight.”

  “Like I care,” James said, and he turned back to the night and sniffed at the air, letting out a low tiger-like growl.

  “Monsters,” Melissa grunted angrily. “They’re all the same.” Then, to Morton’s amazement, she produced a length of chain and a large pair of cast-iron manacles seemingly from nowhere. With surprising speed and agility she shot forward and clasped the manacles onto James’s wrists, looped the chain around his ankles, and tugged tightly on the other end, toppling him to the floor face-first.

  “Ouch!” he protested, sounding suddenly like James again. “What are you doing?”

  “It’s for your own good,” Melissa said.

  “Where did you get those?” Wendy asked, shocked by the sudden attack.

  “I found them in the closet with all the medieval clothing,” Melissa said. “There’s everything in there: swords, maces, crossbows. Not exactly my definition of accessories, but to each his own.”

  James rolled onto his back and looked up at Melissa. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I got a bit carried away there. But I feel fine now. Take them off and I’ll behave myself, honest.” James made a pleading look, but somehow, with those grotesque green eyes, it was impossible to trust him.

  “Right,” Melissa said, completely ignoring James and looking at Wendy and Robbie. “It looks like we’ve got our hands full, so you two should probably head home before this gets any uglier.”

  “Home?” Wendy and Robbie exclaimed, glancing at each other in surprise.

  “We can’t go home now,” Wendy went on. “Not when James is … well, not quite himself.”

  “I’m not actually giving you a choice,” Melissa said firmly. “This could get dangerous, and I’m not prepared to get anybody else involved.”

  “But we’re already involved,” Robbie said in an unusually adamant tone. “And I don’t know about Wendy, but I’m not about to walk out of here and leave my friends to fend for themselves when they’re up against the wall. So, we can stand here and waste time arguing about it or we can just get on with what needs to be done, but either way, I’m not leaving.”

  “Ditto,” Wendy said, putting her hands on her hips in a defiant gesture.

  Melissa puffed her cheeks and glanced over to Morton as if seeking his advice.

  Morton could understand Melissa’s point of view. They’d already caused more than enough upset, and the idea of any harm coming to Robbie or Wendy was unthinkable. But, judging by the looks on their faces, he could also see that any arguments would be futile.

  “I suppose we could use the help,” Morton said. “I mean, we have a lot to get ready.”

  Melissa opened her mouth as if to protest one more time, but Wendy cut her off quickly.

  “Good, that’s settled. I was thinking we should go into Melissa’s closet and get some of those swords, for self-defense, just in case things do get ‘uglier.’”

  “Of course,” Morton said. “That’s a great idea.”

  “I’m not just a pretty face,” Wendy said.

  “I suppose I would feel better with a sword in my hands,” Melissa admitted.

  “We better get started right away,” Robbie said, glancing at his watch. “The moon sets in five hours.”

  “He’s right.” Morton nodded. “But be careful in there. The wishes are getting stronger, and we don’t want you disappearing forever like the girl in King’s story.”

  “Believe me, that’s not going to happen,” Melissa said. “Not all the monsters in Scare Scape could stop me tonight.” And she and Wendy headed out of the room.

  “We should get that gargoyle into the attic,” Morton said, already feeling drained and exhausted.

  Robbie looked at Morton and must have seen the strain on his face. “Don’t worry,” he said. “How does that saying go? ‘It’s always darkest before the dawn.’”

  Morton made a thin smile. He was secretly overjoyed that Robbie was here to help, but he knew that something sinister was about to unwind, and despite Robbie’s supportive words he didn’t feel optimistic at all. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t convince himself that they would in fact live long enough to see the dawn.

  About an hour later they were all standing in King’s attic — except for James, who was lying on his back completely bound in heavy chains. After rereading the Monster Tarot description of the Snarf several times, Melissa had decided to reinforce James’s bindings. The full-grown Snarf was formidably strong, she pointed out, and they shouldn’t be taking any chances. Morton was forced to agree this was a good idea, although it broke his heart to see James bound up like a prisoner.

  The five candles flickered in the dusty air, throwing dancing shadows across the conical ceiling. In the center of the room the gargoyle sat ominously on the stone font, and Melissa was pacing nervously around it, holding one of the slender medieval swords that she’d retrieved from her closet. Mr. Brown was nowhere to be seen.

  “Maybe I should go and find Mr. Brown,” James said, pulling himself into a sitting position.

  Melissa scowled at him.

  “No, really,” James said. “I can see in the dark, and I’ll be able to smell him. If you’ll just take these chains off …”

  “We can’t do that, James,” Melissa said, looking guiltily away from him.

  “I’m fine now. I promise. I don’t even feel hungry.”

  “Not going to happen,” Melissa said. “If Brown doesn’t show, we’re going to have to resort to plan B.”

  “Plan B?” Morton asked. “What’s that?”

  “We hide James in my closet. There are plenty of monsters in there now, so we’ll feed him on those. Not sure what we’re going to tell Dad though.”

  Morton was speechless.

  “Maybe we could do the ceremony without Brown,” Wendy cut in, with a tone of desperate optimism. She turned to face Morton. “Did he tell you anything about what you have to do to reverse the wishes?”

  “No,” Morton said. “He just said we needed the fingers and it was all described in King’s book and …”

  Morton stopped in midsentence and stared blankly ahead of him. A very troubling thought had just popped into his head.

  “What is it?” Melissa asked.

  Morton raised his hand. “Wait! I need to think,” he said. The room fell silent, and Morton began to shuffle the events of the last few days around in his brain. Something was not quite right. He thought that if he could just move one piece of the puzzle, then everything would make sense. Like Copernicus, he thought, moving the Earth from the center of the solar system and replacing it with the sun …

  “Ahoy there, shipmates!” a voice called from below. Morton felt his stomach lurch violently. It was Mr. Brown’s voice, and suddenly Morton had an irrational urge to close the hatch and lock him out, even though they’d been waiting anxiously for him all night.

  “Permission to come aboard?”

  Brown’s face appeared through the opening in the floor. Morton had never seen him in casual clothes before. He wore a loose-fitting black cotton shirt with a colorful dragon printed on the back and a pair of tattered jeans.

  “What happened to James?” Brown asked at once, spotting the tangle of chains on the floor.

  “He’s turning into a monster,” Melissa said bluntly.

  “Then we’d better start,” Brown said, passing his walking stick to Morton and squeezing himself up through the hatch. As he struggled to his feet, Morton noticed he had a large green velvet bag tucked under his arm that held a heavy solid object.

  “The Book of Portals,” Morton gasped.

  Brown looked over and nodded. “Perhaps the most valuable book in existence,” he said, patting the bag proudly.

  “You’re late!” Melissa said, eyeing Brown with a cold, suspicious eye.

  Mr. Brown turned and looked at Melissa. “I was busy making preparations for tonight’s festivities,” he said, seemingly unoffended by her harshness. “You must be Morton’s sister,” he added ch
eerily. “The de facto matriarch of the shrinking Clay clan.”

  “The de whato?” Melissa replied, screwing up her face.

  “Oh, never mind. It’s wonderful to meet you at last. Robbie and James, I know of course, but this young woman …”

  Wendy stepped forward nervously. “I’m Wendy, Melissa’s neighbor.”

  “Really?” Brown said. “I hope all the neighborhood kids don’t know about this.”

  “No, just me,” Wendy said.

  “Good,” Brown said, surveying the attic for the first time. “You have the gargoyle in the right place, I see. And you have the fingers?”

  Melissa held up a small leather pouch that was strung around her neck like an oversize locket. “Of course. What we want to know is how all of this works.”

  “It’s fairly simple,” Brown said. “All you have to do is put the fingers back on the gargoyle.”

  “It can’t be that simple,” Morton said. “There has to be a counter verse.”

  “Let me finish,” Brown said. “First, you have to do it on the full moon. Unless the moon is actually in the sky it won’t work. And, yes, you have to recite the counter verse, word for word, but the most important thing is the order of the fingers. Here, hand them to me and I’ll show you.”

  He reached for the pouch around Melissa’s neck, but Melissa pulled away. “What do you mean by the order of the fingers?”

  Mr. Brown stared curiously at Melissa. “Well, why don’t I just read it out to you,” he said after a long pause.

  He limped over to the lectern and loosened the string from the neck of the large velvet bag. He took out a tattered and ancient leather-bound book with a large dark jewel set into the front like a bulbous black eye.

  Morton’s mind began swirling at double speed. There was something familiar about that book. A book with a black jewel mounted to the front was not something you easily forgot. He knew he had never actually held such a thing, and yet it was as familiar as his own lunchbox. Had he dreamed about this book? Had he read about it in a comic? Had he seen it on Mr. Brown’s bookshelf without really realizing it? That seemed right. It felt right. He had seen it on a shelf — but not alone, it had been among hundreds of other books. And Mr. Brown didn’t have any books in his office….