by M. E. Eadie
***
Holdfast, Magenta and Grandma Li, along with Rhea and Spike, burst in through the entrance and were immediately set upon by the entire contents of the house. Chairs flew at them. The stuffed animal heads in the foyer set up such a ruckus that many became dislodged from their settings. They should have fallen, but instead they floated about the room and attacked the intruders. The paintings on the walls made violent, rude gestures at them. Everything had become animated. A Wapiti head, finding a target, pinned Spike against the wall with its horns. Holdfast, his clothes shredded by the guard things, was using a cast iron frying pan as a weapon. Animal heads bounced off the walls every time he made contact.
“Watch out!” yelled Magenta, wrestling an ottoman back down onto the floor, making sure it stayed there by sitting on it, “The armor!”
Holdfast whirled about catching the descending sword on the edge of his frying pan. Sparks ignited along the rim. Holdfast began to fence with the armor; a shower of sparks glittered eerily as they moved back and forth across the room. They fought on in a world of part light, part shadows.
Spike had been able to slip out beneath the Wapiti who remained, snorting furiously, horns stuck into the wall. He noticed that Rhea was still standing in the doorway of the house, frozen there, unable to move.
“What’s the matter?” yelled Spike over the bedlam. More of the circus entertainers pushed into the house and were immediately set upon by flying utensils, such as knifes, forks and spoons: reinforcements from the kitchen. Outside, the invisible things still brayed and snarled furiously, while the yodeling shouts of Devonish rose shrilly into the air. The principal was breathing hard from ducking the balls of blue fire that Grandma Li was shooting from her hands. She returned red balls of fire from what looked like a knitting needle at the diminutive woman.
“The Phoenix tear, it’s glowing! Should I let it out?” Rhea felt the unspeakable strength of her guardian within and wasn’t sure what to do.
Spike shook his head. “Not yet. Let’s find Colin first!”
They dodged the flying heads, but one of the many wing-backed chairs flew at them from the parlor. Magenta, using a flying dropkick, made contact with the chair, and it burst apart into fragments that fell to the floor. She picked up one of the chair legs, whirled about and began beating the head of the suit of armor as it was about to impale Holdfast on its sword.
Spike, grabbing Rhea’s hand, pulled her up the stairs.
A feeling of wrongness went before them, up the stairs and into Grizzelda’s room. There they found the limp form of Frederick, the pile of sand and the empty mirror, but no Colin, no Grizzelda. The violence in the room was fresh and palpable, vibrating against their skin.
“Where would they go?” said Rhea, her throat going dry.