Nightmares! the Sleepwalker Tonic

by Jason Segel

  “By the way, Mr. Swanson, have you seen the new store that’s opened up in town?” he asked. “It’s just down the street from your bank, and the tonic it’s selling seems to be really popular.” He felt terrible recommending the tonic. But maybe it could do some good after all. Charlie could almost believe that turning a man like Curtis Swanson into a Walker would be a service to mankind.

  Curtis Swanson glanced down at Charlie. “Are you talking about Tranquility Tonight? As a matter of fact, the gentleman who owns the store is one of the people who intend to purchase this house.”

  “The Shopkeeper?” Charlie blurted.

  “Yes,” said the banker. “I suppose he is a shopkeeper. He’s moving to Cypress Creek soon, and I’m helping him and the girl find a place to live.”

  “What girl?” Charlie asked. It was the third time a girl had popped into one of Charlie’s conversations in less than twenty-four hours.

  Curtis Swanson didn’t answer. Instead, he looked back up at the purple mansion. “They have their hearts set on this house. He’s promised me a case of his special tonic when the deal is done.”

  “Don’t drink the tonic,” Jack warned him. “The stuff is poison.”

  Charlie could have throttled his brother. But when he saw Jack’s expression, Charlie knew in his heart that the kid had done the right thing. Charlie couldn’t let misfortune turn him into a monster.

  “I’m sorry,” said the banker. He crouched down so he could look Jack straight in the eye. “What was that you just said, young man?”

  “He said don’t drink the tonic,” Charlie told the banker. “Now get off this lawn before I call the police. You’re not going to take my house.”

  “I’m afraid I am, but there’s no need to be rude about it,” the man replied, completely unruffled. He tucked his camera phone into his pocket. “Now that I have what I came for, I’m happy to leave. And by the way, when you’re a few years older, stop by the bank, and we’ll get you preapproved for your first credit card.”

  Charlie and Jack spent the rest of the afternoon inside with the doors locked and the shades down. Shortly after the sun set, they heard a car in the drive. The boys left what they were doing and sprinted for the door. Andrew Laird came in the house carrying Charlotte’s suitcase. He dropped it by the stairs, where it landed with a loud thump.

  “Be super-nice to Charlotte,” he whispered to Charlie and Jack. “She’s had a really tough day.”

  Charlie’s heart sank. Charlotte’s meeting with the second publisher had been that morning. The publisher must not have wanted the book. The Laird family’s last chance to come up with the money they needed to save the purple mansion was gone. Soon the Shopkeeper would buy their house. The Laird family would be evicted. The portal would fall into the bad guys’ hands, and another child would call the mansion home. The little girl. Charlie’s thoughts returned to her for the hundredth time that day. Who was she? Had she been kidnapped like the girl Meduso had seen in the lighthouse?

  Charlie heard Charlotte’s footsteps on the front porch stairs.

  “So did you boys go into town this afternoon?” Andrew Laird asked loudly enough for his wife to overhear. He obviously didn’t want Charlotte to think that he and the boys had been talking about her. “There sure are some weird folks wandering around Cypress Creek today. We just drove down Main Street on our way back from the airport, and it looks like some kind of zombie convention out there.”

  “Does that mean I’m too late?” When Charlotte finally appeared, she didn’t look like herself at all. Her green eyes had lost their twinkle. Even her bright orange hair seemed duller.

  “Yay, you’re back!” Jack shouted, leaping into his stepmother’s arms.

  Charlie waited patiently. “You’re not too late,” he told Charlotte when it was his turn to hug her. “But things are happening really fast. Those people you and Dad saw are all from Orville Falls. They came here to build the new store.”

  The Cypress Creek branch of Tranquility Tonight had opened that morning. In less than twelve hours, they would start to see the damage that the tonic had done to their town.

  Andrew Laird planted a kiss on the top of his wife’s head. “I’ll take your bag upstairs. Then I’ll start getting dinner ready. Sound good to you?”

  Charlotte gave her husband a weak smile. “Yep, sounds fine,” she said, but Charlie could tell that she hadn’t really been listening. As she spoke, her eyes roamed the mansion, taking in as much as they could. She knew that by the end of the month, the house that had been in her family for a hundred and fifty years would belong to someone else. Charlie didn’t have it in him to tell her who. It was a serious problem, one that Charlotte didn’t look ready to deal with.

  “Great!” Andrew Laird was clearly trying to keep his wife’s spirits up. “Then everyone meet me in the kitchen in twenty minutes. I’ll have dinner on the table! Jack, you want to come help me?”

  “Not really,” Jack replied. “I want to talk to Charlotte.”

  “Jack.” Andrew Laird lowered his voice. “I could really use your help.”

  “Oh, fine,” Jack said, stomping off with a huff.

  —

  Charlie followed Charlotte into the drawing room.

  “I’m sorry, kiddo,” she said, dropping down onto one of the purple sofas.

  “For what?” Charlie asked.

  “I failed,” Charlotte said. “I couldn’t sell the book.”

  Charlie hated to see her like this. “You tried your best. Isn’t that all that counts? What did the second publisher say?”

  “She thought the Netherworld would make a great setting for a teen romance novel,” Charlotte said. “She wanted one of the main characters to fall in love with Meduso.”

  “What?” It was so absurd that Charlie started to laugh. A few seconds later, Charlotte cracked up too. But her laughter didn’t last long.

  She looked around the purple drawing room, her eyes skimming over the books on the room’s ceiling-high bookshelves. “You know, I used to play in here when I was little. I liked to climb those shelves. I had this weird idea that all of the best books were hidden on top, where kids couldn’t reach them. Later on, I told my mother, and she confessed that she’d done the same thing.” Charlie saw a tear trickle down Charlotte’s cheek. “I really thought my book could save this place, Charlie. But I let our family down. And I let my family down too. A DeChant has lived in this house for the past one hundred and fifty years. Now it’s going to be sold to another family.”

  Charlie took a seat beside her on the sofa. “Isn’t there something we can do?” he asked. He wasn’t ready to give up.

  Charlotte tried to smile but didn’t quite succeed. “I don’t think we can save the mansion, Charlie. So let’s focus on curing the Walkers,” she said. “Where’s the bottle of tonic that Bruce stole from the shop in Orville Falls?”

  “Hold on,” Charlie told her. Bruce had left a bottle of the tonic on Charlotte’s desk in the tower room. Charlie ran up the two flights of stairs to the room, grabbed the little sapphire-blue bottle, and ran back down as fast as he could. Working to catch his breath, he handed the bottle to his stepmother and watched, hopefully, as she uncorked it and inhaled deeply. She grimaced at the smell.

  “Did Medusa figure out what’s in it?” Charlotte asked.

  Charlie frowned. He wished he had an answer that Charlotte could use. “Medusa said that the main ingredient is despair.”

  “Despair?” Charlotte laughed. “But that’s not an ingredient! You can’t find an antidote to that.”

  “Medusa said the despair came from whoever made it.”

  Charlotte handed the bottle back to Charlie. “If that’s what gives the tonic its power, then there’s nothing I can do,” she told her stepson.

  “Maybe there is,” Charlie replied. He wouldn’t let her give up. “Does this look familiar to you?” He took out the lip balm that Paige had found at her aunt Josephine’s house. “A lady Walker had it. The sme
ll of it wakes her up for a second or two.”

  Charlotte held the little container between her index finger and thumb. “I made this,” she said. “It’s lip balm.”

  “Do you remember what ingredients you used?” Charlie asked.

  Charlotte twisted off the container’s cap and held the balm up to her nose. Her forehead crinkled as she tried to identify the contents. “It’s the usual stuff. Beeswax. Coconut oil. But this isn’t one of my regular scents,” she said, giving it another sniff. “It’s honeysuckle. It must have been a special order.”

  “You made it for a person named Josephine,” Charlie said, realizing that he didn’t know her last name.

  “Josephine. Is she a pretty blond woman?” Charlotte asked. “A few years younger than me?”

  “That’s the one,” Charlie said. “She’s Paige’s aunt.”

  Charlotte’s eyes twinkled for the first time since she’d arrived home. “I remember Josephine!” she exclaimed. “She was in the shop this spring. She told me she’d come to town to look after her niece. I should have realized she was Paige’s aunt. They look just alike!”

  “Josephine visits sometimes when Paige’s mom is sick,” Charlie said. He didn’t need to say any more. Everyone in Cypress Creek knew that Paige’s mom was sick a lot.

  “Ah,” said Charlotte solemnly. “Paige’s mom must be the sister Josephine told me about.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Well, we started talking, and Josephine told me that she and her sister grew up in Cypress Creek. They’re both a bit younger than I am, so I never met them during the time I lived here. When I told Josephine that I’d inherited the purple mansion from my grandmother, she laughed and said that she and her sister had discovered a special hiding spot under the honeysuckle vines that grow along the mansion’s fence. She said the smell of honeysuckle always made her think of those days.”

  “So that’s why you put honeysuckle into Josephine’s lip balm.”

  “I thought it would help keep her spirits up while she was here,” Charlotte said. Then she smiled sadly and put her arm around her stepson. “But there’s nothing in that lip balm that’s going to help us, Charlie. It’s made of very ordinary stuff.”

  “But it wakes Josephine up for a few seconds whenever she smells it!” Charlie argued.

  “Wait—you’re saying that Josephine is one of the Walkers?” Charlotte looked stricken. She’d only just made the connection.

  “She’s the aunt that Paige is helping in Orville Falls.”

  Charlie watched as his stepmother crumpled. “Well, there’s our explanation,” she said. “It’s not the lip balm that’s waking Josephine up. It’s the memory of her sister. And I can’t put that into a bottle.”

  Charlie went to bed in a terrible mood. It got worse when he fell asleep and found himself sitting in an office at the Netherworld bank.

  “Well, hello there,” said the wolf on the other side of the desk. He grinned at Charlie and flashed a perfect row of razor-sharp teeth. A scrap of blue denim was stuck between two incisors. The beast had recently eaten.

  Fear surged through Charlie’s body, but he refused to move from his seat. The Nightmare wanted him to run away—and he wasn’t going to give the wolf what he wanted.

  “It’s too bad you weren’t here in time to join me for lunch,” the wolf said. He took a toothpick out of his desk. “Your stepmother was absolutely scrumptious.”

  “This is only a nightmare,” Charlie said out loud to remind himself. He’d been to the Netherworld many times, but his own scary dreams still had the power to terrify him. The Nightmare creatures knew how to put on a good show, and their attention to detail was impeccable. He could see Charlotte’s handbag in the wastepaper basket and one of her favorite shoes sticking out from beneath the wolf’s desk.

  “Is it only a nightmare?” The wolf slid out of his seat and slunk across the room on all fours. He sniffed at Charlie. “So it is,” he said, sounding quite disappointed. “What a shame you aren’t here in the flesh tonight. I’ve heard that children your age make delightful desserts.”

  “You don’t fool me,” Charlie sneered. “You’ve never eaten anyone. I’m having a nightmare about a hungry wolf because I’m worried that the bank will take away our house.”

  The wolf sprang back into his seat and grinned at Charlie from across the desk. “So you know how our system works,” he noted with what sounded at first like real admiration. Then his voice grew dark. “But that doesn’t change the fact that Mr. Swanson and his bank really will take the house.”

  That wasn’t what Charlie wanted to hear at all. He crossed his arms. “There could still be time to save it,” he fought back.

  “Are you sure?” the wolf asked. “The way things are looking right now, by the beginning of August, your enemies will be living in the purple mansion. Every human in Cypress Creek will be hooked on Tranquility Tonic. The hole out there will have swallowed your entire Netherworld town. And do you know what the very best part is?” With both of his paws on the desk, the wolf looked ready to pounce at any moment.

  “What?” Charlie asked defiantly.

  “Your little brother is going to take the blame. Everyone here thinks he’s responsible.”

  “But that doesn’t even make sense!” Charlie insisted. “Jack’s only nine years old!”

  The wolf shrugged. “Be sure to tell my fellow Nightmares that when they find your brother,” he said. “And in case you’re wondering, Charlie Laird, they will find your brother.” He pointed out the office window.

  Charlie looked and saw flyers taped to every lamppost and tree. He couldn’t read them from where he sat, but he could tell that each featured a picture of the same boy.

  “Go ahead. Have a look,” the wolf urged him. “I’m through with you for the moment. I have paperwork to do.”

  Charlie left the bank. Outside, the walls of the building were covered with the same flyers that Charlie had seen from the window. In the center of each was a photo of Jack, along with the words:

  WANTED FOR CRIMES AGAINST NIGHTMARES

  DON’T LET THE PROPHECY COME TRUE!

  FIND THE BOY!

  SAVE THE NETHERWORLD!

  The wolf hadn’t been lying. The Nightmare creatures had turned against Jack. A loud crack came from behind him. Charlie didn’t just hear it—he felt it in his bones. He turned in time to see a crevasse open up through the middle of the square. It was only a few inches wide. He could step right over it. Nothing bigger than a mouse could have fallen inside, but Charlie knew that it was just the beginning.

  He was about to leave, when he caught a glimpse of something unusual out of the corner of his eye. There was a new flyer on the wall. It hadn’t been there when he’d turned away.

  If you try to stop us, Charlie Laird,

  we’ll turn your brother in.

  ICK & INK

  He recognized the handwriting. It was the same cursive script he’d seen on the OPEN sign at the Orville Falls Tranquility Tonight store.

  “Hello?” he called out. The flyer couldn’t have appeared out of thin air. Even in the Netherworld, that wasn’t how things worked. Someone must have put it there while his back was turned.

  Charlie felt eyes on him, and the sensation made his skin crawl. The hairs on his arms stood on end, and a feeling of dread spread over his body. It was the same horrible feeling he’d had the night before, when he’d caught someone watching him through the window of the purple mansion. But this time Charlie noticed a peculiar smell in the air. It was a mixture of fragrances—tea leaves, sea salt, and lavender soap. Together, they smelled strangely human.

  —

  Charlie opened his eyes and immediately flipped on his bedside lamp. He was back in the Waking World, but he still sensed he was being watched. The feeling was horrible. Charlie hadn’t felt so scared in months. But he knew he couldn’t let it get to him. He forced his legs over the side of the bed.

  The hallway outside his room was s
till and silent, but it wasn’t quite dark. A thin strip of light shone from beneath the bathroom door. Someone was inside. He was about to investigate, when the door to his parents’ room opened. Charlotte, half-asleep and dressed in her nightgown, walked the short distance to the bathroom and opened the door.

  “Psssst!” Charlie said, but it was too late. She’d already shut the door behind her. Two seconds later, he heard a scream and Charlotte burst out of the bathroom. She screeched again when she saw Charlie—and he shrieked in reply.

  “They’ve been here!” Charlotte half whispered, one hand over her heart. “We have to search the house.”

  “I’ll wake up Dad,” Charlie said.

  “No,” Charlotte said. “Don’t do that! Not yet!”

  “Why not?” Charlie asked.

  Charlotte bit her lip. Her eyes shot back to the bathroom door. Charlie cautiously pushed the door open. There was no one there.

  “I don’t see anything,” he told his stepmother.

  “You’re not looking,” she told him.

  He moved farther into the bathroom. That was when he noticed it. A message written in soap on the mirror above the sink.

  You should have come.

  We asked so nicely.

  Now we’ve found you.

  ICK & INK

  “Charlotte? Honey? What’s going on? Is everyone okay?” It was Andrew Laird’s voice in the hallway.

  Charlie grabbed a washcloth and quickly wiped the message off the mirror.

  “We’re fine, sweetheart,” Charlie heard Charlotte say. “Charlie and I just heard noises and ended up surprising each other, that’s all.”

  Charlie stepped out into the hall. “I thought there was someone inside the house,” he said. “I’m just going to have a quick look around.”

  Andrew Laird raised an eyebrow. “Mind if I join you?” he asked. “You can be the brains. I’ll be the muscle.”

  “And I’ll be the eyes and ears,” Charlotte said. “I’m coming too.”