Curse of the Boggin

by D. J. MacHale

  “And there it goes,” Lu said, stunned.

  “There what goes?”

  “Any doubt I had that this is real.”

  “Hang on, we’re just getting started.”

  I put the key into the lock, twisted it until the tumblers clicked, and opened the door into another world.

  When we stepped into the Library, Everett was waiting for us just inside the door.

  He looked upset, shifting his weight from one foot to the other impatiently. Or maybe he just had to go to the bathroom. Did ghosts use the bathroom?

  “About time you came back,” he said curtly. “Come with me.”

  He turned and headed deeper into the room. I followed for a few steps, then stopped when I remembered that Lu was visiting this supernatural room for the first time. I looked back to see that she was still standing in the doorway, totally shaken.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “I said I believed you, but I didn’t really believe you.”

  She looked around, wide-eyed, as if we’d just stepped into another dimension, which was exactly what we’d done.

  “I know, it’s crazy,” I said. “But there’s nothing to be afraid of here. I think. Can’t say the same about back in real life.”

  Everett came charging back.

  “What’s the holdup?” he said as he pushed the door closed behind Lu.

  I gestured to Lu. Everett focused on her and downshifted.

  “Annabella Lu. Pleased to meet you, lass. I’ve read a lot about you. I promise, there ain’t nothing in here you can’t handle.”

  “Really?” Lu replied. “It’s a supernatural library filled with unfinished ghost stories, written by ghosts, where time has no meaning, and the boogeyman wants to blow it all up. What exactly is it you think I can handle about any of that?”

  “I hear ya,” Everett said with sympathy. “It’ll take a while for you to wrap your mind around it all. But don’t worry, we’ll ease you in.”

  He turned to walk off and then looked back with an afterthought.

  “Oh, but don’t forget the part about you being in mortal danger because you’re a friend of Marcus’s.”

  He gave her a quick smile and hurried away.

  Lu shot me a sick look. “So much for easing me in.”

  “He’s upset about something,” I said.

  “Good. That makes all of us.”

  “C’mon,” I said, and took her hand.

  I had to pull her to keep moving as she gazed around in wonder at the endless aisles of books. We found Everett behind the circulation desk with a couple of books open in front of him.

  “Good news and bad news,” he said. “I found a number of stories about the Boggin. Seems it’s turned up throughout history, and every time it does, it causes the same kind of trouble you’ve been going through.”

  “Is that the good news or the bad news?” I asked.

  “This is a completed story,” he said, shoving a book toward us. “Read the part I highlighted.”

  Lu and I read the following to ourselves:

  * * *

  THE DRUIDS HAD NO idea of the extent of the horrible power they had unleashed. However, they had the foresight to create a means to restrain the spirit, in order to call upon it at times of their choosing. A vessel was created of an element that was both plentiful and readily available. It being the Bronze Age, the choice was copper. This metal is the spirit’s weakness. Throughout the centuries the makeup of the vessels changed, but a seal of copper ensured that the phantom would be contained. Only when the seal was broken by a mortal would the spirit be released to roam free.

  * * *

  “Copper,” I said. “My mother offered Miss Bogg tea in a copper teakettle. The old witch jumped away like it was garlic and she was a vampire.”

  “That’s a myth, by the way,” Everett said.

  We both looked to him, questioning.

  “Garlic and vampires,” Everett said innocently. “Not true.”

  “You know about vampires?” I asked.

  Everett shrugged. “There are all kinds of stories in the Library.”

  “Seriously?” Lu said, squeamish. “Never mind, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”

  “That’s the good news?” I asked skeptically. “We have to get her to jump into a copper teakettle?”

  “Not we,” Everett said. “You. I can’t leave here, remember?”

  “The good news isn’t all that good,” Lu said.

  “But it is!” Everett exclaimed. “It means there’s a way to stop that horrid spirit. It’s all in the books. The Boggin has escaped and caused trouble more times than I can count, but it’s also been trapped just as often. That proves it can be done.”

  “Okay,” I said. “That’s good, but barely. What’s the bad news?”

  Everett’s expression turned dark.

  “There’s a book missing,” he said in a low voice that showed as much embarrassment as worry. “I discovered it while hunting for Boggin stories. One of the unfinished stories is gone.”

  “Why is that so bad?” I asked.

  “Because it was the last story written about the Boggin. It means you’re in the middle of a second tale. That’s two stories we’re dealing with here. There’s more at stake than I imagined, and without that book there’s no way of knowing the extent of it.”

  “How can a book be gone?” Lu asked. “Don’t you keep track?”

  “If you’re asking if I pass out library cards and stamp a return date inside each book, no,” Everett said patiently.

  “Then we’ll never find it,” I said.

  Everett took off his glasses and wiped his eyes. He looked tired. Did spirits get tired?

  “Don’t be so sure,” he said. “I have a pretty good idea of who took it.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Your father, Marcus. Your birth father. Jim Roxbury.”

  It was my turn to get worked up.

  “What! When?”

  “Had to have been some time before he died,” Everett said. “How many years ago was that?”

  “Twelve,” I said quickly.

  “The book’s been gone for twelve years?” Lu asked. “That’s going to be one hefty late fee.”

  “Why would he take out a book about the Boggin?” I asked. “Did it get loose back then?”

  “It’s possible,” Everett said. “There’s no way to know without that book.”

  “Why are you so sure it was my father? Maybe one of the other agents took it.”

  “Impossible,” Everett said, shaking his head. “Your father was the last mortal agent of the Library. That is, until the Paradox key was passed on to you.”

  “What!” I exclaimed. “You mean there aren’t a bunch of other agents running around, finishing these stories?”

  “There have been many agents over time,” Everett replied. “And there will be more. But as of right now, you’re it, son.”

  “Wow,” Lu said numbly. “Lucky you.”

  “So I’m on my own?”

  “Not entirely. You’ve already done something your father did. He brought in friends to help.”

  He looked to Lu.

  I looked to Lu.

  Lu looked sick.

  “Wow,” she said, still numb. “Lucky me.”

  “I really wish the good news were better than that,” I said.

  “I’m here to help too,” Everett said. “With these books I can give you the history on pretty much every supernatural event that’s been written about. The only thing I can’t do is leave here.”

  “Right, because you’re a ghost,” Lu said with no enthusiasm. “Yikes.”

  An idea was forming. One I didn’t like but couldn’t ignore. The more I thought about it, the more it made my stomach twist. I had to sit down on one of the stools because the thought was actually making me dizzy.

  “What’s the trouble, lad?” Everett asked with concern.

  “There may be even more going on her
e,” I said, thinking hard. “My mother and father died twelve years ago. A rogue storm capsized their sailboat. If my father was fighting the Boggin—”

  “Oh my God,” Lu exclaimed.

  I looked to Everett, hoping he had some logical reason to explain why I was wrong.

  His sober expression told me otherwise.

  “You may be onto something, Marcus,” he said softly.

  “Is it possible?” Lu asked.

  “Yeah, it is,” I said flatly. “The Boggin may have killed my parents.”

  The words echoed through the ancient library.

  “We can’t know for sure until you find that book,” Everett said.

  “We will,” I said, more to myself than to anybody else. “We have to.”

  “So where do we start?” Lu asked.

  “With the guy who helped my father. Michael Swenor.”

  “Uh, isn’t he, like…dead?” Lu asked.

  “Yeah. But his wife might know something about the book.”

  I jumped up and headed for the door.

  “Marcus,” Everett called. “I know I don’t have to say this, but be careful. From what I’ve read about that creature, well, let’s just say it isn’t a friendly spirit.”

  “You’re telling me that like it’s something I don’t already know.”

  Lu followed me to the door. I was about to open it when I remembered something. “Wait, we didn’t ask about your cousin’s story.”

  “It’s okay,” Lu said. “One mystery at a time.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  “Yeah, let’s deal with one boogeyman at a time.”

  I nodded a thank-you, then opened the door and stepped back into Lu’s bedroom. When she came through, I closed the door behind her, then opened it again right away to show that it now led to her hallway.

  “So weird,” she said while sticking her head through.

  I grabbed my cell phone and punched in Lillian Swenor’s number. After four rings an answering machine picked up.

  “Hello!” came a cheery man’s voice.

  I was about to hang up, thinking I’d called the wrong number, but then the truth hit me.

  I was listening to the voice of Michael Swenor.

  “You’ve got the Swenors,” he said.

  A young kid’s voice that must have been Alec’s came in next. “Please leave a message after the beep. Bye!”

  My brain locked. I had just heard the voices of a happy father and son who had no idea that their lives were about to be turned inside out. Or, in Michael’s case, ended.

  “Say something,” Lu ordered.

  “Uh, hi, Mrs. Swenor. This is Marcus O’Mara. I’m trying to hunt down a book that belonged to my father. My birth father. I was hoping maybe he gave it to your husband for safekeeping. It’s pretty important, so if you know anything about it, could you please call me at this number?”

  I hit the End button and stared at the phone.

  “Okay, what do we do now?” Lu asked.

  “I should go home. Tomorrow’s Saturday. I’ll think about it and call you in the morning.”

  “Think fast,” Lu said.

  Lu led me downstairs, but I didn’t leave right away because there was something else that had to be said.

  “I, uh—I’m sorry, Lu. I shouldn’t have gotten you involved. I just didn’t know who else to turn to.”

  “I was already involved, because I’m your friend. It’s not like you have a whole lot of ’em.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I said sarcastically, but she was right.

  “Besides,” she added, “maybe the Library can help me too.”

  “I hope so. Stay close to your family tonight. Safety in numbers.”

  “You too. It’s not a good time to be at war with your parents.”

  “I’m always at war with my parents,” I said. “Today isn’t any different.”

  “Yeah, but now you’re fighting something a lot scarier.”

  She was absolutely right. I was at war, and everyone I knew and cared about was in the middle of it, thanks to me.

  I could only hope I was up for the fight.

  The sun was long gone, and the street was dark.

  As I stepped away from Lu’s house, I knew it was going to be a terrifying walk home. I kept looking over my shoulder, expecting to see the hideous face of that monster old lady as she crept up on me from behind. Every time a car drove by, I hid behind a tree and watched until it passed. A chilly late-fall breeze shook the tree branches, making them look like gnarled claws trying to reach down to snatch me up.

  Expecting something scary to happen is the worst kind of torture. Every shadow becomes a ghost; every sound is a potential danger. By the time I got to my house, I was a mess. My heart was racing, and I was out of breath, even though absolutely nothing strange had happened.

  And then my cell phone rang. It was Theo.

  “Hey,” I said. “I’m just getting home and—”

  “She’s here,” Theo said in a strained whisper that sounded like nothing I’d ever heard come from him.

  I stopped short at my front door.

  “What do you mean? Who’s there?”

  “It’s her,” he said, sounding as though he was on the verge of tears. “She’s downstairs talking to my parents right now.”

  My mind went into hyperdrive, trying to understand what this could mean.

  “Did you talk to her?”

  “No. As soon as I saw her, I ran upstairs and hid in my room,” he whispered, on the edge of panic. “I’m under my bed. I don’t know what to do, Marcus. If you don’t give her the key, more will die. That was her threat, right?”

  “Nobody’s gonna die,” I said adamantly. “I’m coming over. Keep talking.”

  The McLeans lived only a few blocks from me. I covered the distance in record time as I sprinted along the sidewalk with my cell phone pressed to my ear, listening to Theo’s nervous breathing.

  “Go to the door, Theo,” I said. “Listen to what she’s saying.”

  “I can’t,” he cried, whining like a terrified two-year-old. “Please, I don’t want anything to happen to my family. Or to me.”

  “It’s not you she’s after,” I said, breathless. “It’s me.”

  “It’s not you, it’s the key! Just give her the stupid key!”

  My gut churned as I heard the fear in Theo’s voice. This was my fault. I didn’t want anybody to get hurt, but giving up the key would be like making a deal with the devil. What horror might be unleashed if that demon took control of the Library?

  “Something’s happening,” Theo said, his panic amping up. “I think the house is shaking. What is going on?”

  “Hang on, I’m almost there,” I said as I crossed another street and hopped over the curb to the sidewalk.

  “It feels like—oh my God, Marcus, it’s an earthquake!”

  “Get out of there!” I commanded. “Now! Run down those stairs, grab your family, and get out of the house.”

  “She won’t let us,” Theo cried.

  “She’s a spirit, Theo. She can’t stop you. Get out of the house!”

  “I’m too scared!”

  I rounded the final corner and saw Theo’s house. It looked pretty much like ours, with two stories and a lawn in front. I didn’t feel the ground shaking, but I did see that the lawn was strangely high, as if it hadn’t been mowed in months. Thick green grass covered even the walkway that led up to the front door. That wasn’t like the McLeans.

  “It might not be real, Theo, but you can’t take the chance,” I said into the phone. “Get out from under that bed and—”

  A violent wind suddenly kicked up, flattening the grass and nearly knocking me over.

  Crack!

  The thick branches of a massive oak tree next to the house were bent back, straining against the wind. The centuries-old tree fought against the powerful force as hundreds of leaves were instantly torn off and blown away, stripping the branches bare.

&nbs
p; “You gotta get outta there, Theo!” I screamed into the phone as I ran for the house.

  I plowed through the tall grass, got halfway to the door, and tripped over something that was hidden deep down in the thick growth. I went sprawling forward and landed on my chest. Hard. The force of the fall knocked the wind out of me. As I lay there, gasping for air, I felt something pull at my feet. Whatever it was that I’d tripped over, it wasn’t done with me. It felt as though hungry hands were grabbing at my ankles to try and pull me away from the house. I kicked back at the unseen force, desperate to get away.

  Crack!

  The trunk of the giant oak was bent at an impossible angle. There was no way it could stand up to such a powerful force for much longer.

  “Theo!” I screamed.

  Crack!

  The tree lost the battle. With a sharp tearing sound that was loud enough to cut through the howling wind, the tree toppled. The hundred-foot-high oak splintered near its base with a final, gut-rumbling snap and fell toward the house.

  I stopped fighting to get closer because the tree was looming overhead, falling my way. I rolled away as fast as I could, praying that the tree wouldn’t be blown on top of me.

  With a monstrous, explosive crash, the tree hit the house and tore through the roof directly over Theo’s bedroom.

  “Theo!” I shouted into the phone.

  No answer.

  I struggled back to my feet, kicking away at the unseen hands that grabbed at me from beneath the grass, and ran for the door.

  The giant tree rested against the structure at a forty-five-degree angle. It had destroyed the roof but was stopped from falling flat by the second floor. I didn’t want to believe that Theo was hurt. I had to get him out of there.

  I finally fought my way to the house and threw open the front door.

  “It’s Marcus!” I screamed, hoping to see Theo, or his parents, or his brothers and sister rushing out.

  Nobody answered.

  Or more will die.

  That was what the Boggin had threatened.

  This really was a war.

  I ran straight for the stairs and flew up, two at a time. Theo’s bedroom was at the end of a long hallway. When I got to the second floor, I saw no damage. The tree had fallen directly onto Theo’s bedroom, and his door was closed.