“Penny for your thoughts,” said Quimby.
“How do they know I’m a monster?” he asked.
“You think you’re human?” said Quimby. “With eyes like that?”
“People can have different-colored eyes,” said Falcon. “People can be all sorts of things. That doesn’t make them mutants.”
Quimby nodded knowingly. “You think?” he said.
In his dream that night, Falcon saw Gamm sitting by the woodstove, looking through the glass door at the dying embers in its heart. There were tears on her face, and Falcon knew that the tears she had cried were on his account. Then she began to wail, and the sound of it froze his blood. In all the years he had lived with Gamm, he had never heard her make a sound like this.
But I’m fine, he wanted to say. I’m here, at the Academy for Monsters. I’m all right!
Gamm put on her coat and her boots and walked outside. She worked her way through the snow down to the bank of Carrabec Pond, and then stood there looking at the ice. The winter cold had already refrozen the lake in the place where Falcon had broken through, but she could still imagine the series of terrible events—the tuba sliding down the big hill, and the child running, trying to catch up with it, until he fell on the ice and slid out onto the surface of the lake. She imagined the cracks forming all around him, just before the surface caved in. Was that the last thing Falcon had heard, before he’d fallen in, the sound of shattering ice? Or had he heard the voices of Max Parsons and the Crofton girl, trying to save him?
But I didn’t go through the ice, Gamm. I’m here.
Falcon tried to form the words, but he could not make the sounds. He felt the icy water seep into his heart.
Gamm swayed back and forth. It’d be spring, probably, before they found the bodies. That’s what the police had said. The water was so cold, because of the bitter winter, that it wasn’t safe to send down a search team, not until spring. She hoped the bodies wouldn’t drift too far in the meantime, although who knows? Carrabec Pond was known for its mysterious undercurrents and underground springs. By summer the bodies could be anywhere.
“It’s a beautiful night,” said a voice, and Gamm cried out.
“Dear God,” she said. “Don’t sneak up on a person like that. Who is it?”
A figure was standing at the bottom of the hill, wrapped up in a tattered cloak. “Forgive me,” it said with a silvery voice. “I was just admiring the night stars. Have you seen Cygnus? The Swan? My favorite group of stars. So tranquil, for those whose minds are troubled.”
“Who are you?” said Gamm. “I don’t know you.”
“Forgive me,” said the stranger. “I come from away.”
“This is private property,” said Gamm. “I don’t like strangers here.”
“Where I come from,” the soft voice said, “strangers are always welcome.”
“Well, maybe you should go back there,” said Gamm. “Stop creeping up on people.”
“Ah, perhaps,” said the figure. “But then, I don’t consider myself a stranger, Mrs. Quinn.”
Gamm’s eyes grew suddenly wide. “I know you!” she said, and her voice trembled.
The figure stepped closer. It had piercing blue eyes. “Mrs. Quinn,” it said. “We need the boy.”
“My grandson’s dead,” said Gamm. “He fell through the ice right here!”
The figure smiled. “They made it look like an accident, then. Typical of their kind, isn’t it?”
“Who?” said Gamm. “What are you talking about?”
“The ones who have taken him,” said the figure. “The boy can stop them. Does that provide you some solace, Mrs. Quinn? I know they are not unknown to you. There was a time when they took you as well. Didn’t they?”
Gamm’s lower jaw moved up and down. She hadn’t put her teeth in. “They—did,” she said. “Then they threw me away. They said I did not—fit.”
“Falcon will put an end to them, Mrs. Quinn,” said the figure. “He has that power, although he does not yet know how to use it.”
“I want to help him stop them,” said Gamm. “I want to help my grandson!”
“Well, there is one thing you can do for him,” said the figure, pulling a long, blunt object from beneath its cloak and starting to laugh.
“What?” said Gamm. “Tell me!”
“You can die, Mrs. Quinn.”
It was snowing: fat, luminous flakes that shone like stars and danced as they fell. Everything in the world shone like that, if you looked at it with the right pair of eyes. She hadn’t thought about this before, but Gamm thought about it now, as the world exploded, and something within her began to shine.
There was a crashing sound, then a roar. Falcon opened his eyes. He was in a dark place. The roar came again, the piteous wailing of some tragic, enraged beast. Falcon sat up, his black eye throbbing. He was in his bed in the Tower of Aberrations. He looked over at the door. There, surrounded by dim light from the hallway, was a giant, hideous figure. It roared again, and the sound made Falcon’s ears ring.
Then it stepped forward into the room. The door closed behind it.
Falcon was surrounded once more by darkness, but now the darkness contained this roaring, terrible thing—a violent, lurching presence that was now stumbling around the room. It was hard to tell whether it was angry or just lost. Falcon heard things smashing onto the floor. There was a crash as a wooden chair near the window was suddenly thrown against the wall. Falcon heard the many pieces of the shattered chair rolling around the floor.
Then the room fell silent, or nearly. Falcon was still sitting up in his bed. The thing was breathing heavily, the vicious, snarling exhalations coming one after the other.
Then it growled. It took a step toward the bed. There was another growl, deeper and crueler this time.
Falcon did not understand whatever language it was this thing was speaking in, but he did know this much: whatever this thing was, it was now aware that it was not alone.
He wondered whether he ought to make a run for it. It might be possible to get to the door before this giant, horrendous thing got there. On the other hand, the one thing Falcon knew about dealing with hostile creatures was, Don’t run. If you remain still and calm, eventually the creature will decide that you’re not an enemy and go away.
Right.
Falcon counted to three, then ran as fast as he could toward the door, through the pitch-black of his room in the Tower of Aberrations.
Unfortunately the entity was standing directly in his path, and Falcon managed to plow directly into its chest.
The creature roared and screamed as Falcon ran into it. Falcon bounced off its chest and fell backward onto the floor.
Falcon hit his head as he fell, and for a moment he felt like his skull was a large bell that had just been struck loudly with a mallet. Then he sat up on his elbows, looking for the door. He wondered once again whether it might be possible to make a run for it.
The moon came out from behind a cloud at this moment, and in the dim light, Falcon could now discern the monster’s features. It was like a bear, only it seemed larger and more hideous than any bear Falcon had seen. Its fur was thick and greasy, and there appeared to be bits of earth or mud clinging to it as well. The four huge legs were tipped with paws the size of catcher’s mitts, with a spiky claw at the point of each toe. Worst of all was its enormous head, which seemed to consist almost entirely of an appalling mouth filled with huge, yellow, sharp teeth. Two dull, pitiless eyes looked at Falcon, and in them he could see his own pale reflection even as the creature jumped on Falcon and pinned him to the floor.
The creature put its malicious forepaws on Falcon’s two shoulders and drew its face closer to his. Falcon could feel its hot, horrible breath on his neck now, a breath that smelled of blood and worms and things ripped from the hot belly of the earth. The monster growled again. A long string of saliva fell from its quivery black lips and dripped onto Falcon’s cheek.
“Please,” Falcon whis
pered. “Please?”
Then the thing seemed to take a deep breath. It paused for a second. And then it exhaled into Falcon’s face. The last thing he saw was a pale gray cloud coming from the creature’s mouth.
Falcon closed his eyes and imagined himself sinking through the cold, black waters of Carrabec Pond. He had a last fleeting memory of Gamm, and of his home in Cold River—its windows shuttered, its doors closed up forever.
7
JONNY FRANKENSTEIN AND THE WEREBEAR
Falcon opened his eyes. “Gamm?” he said.
He looked around his dorm room. There were great, hideous claw marks on the walls. Pieces of a broken chair were all over the floor. The curtains on the window had been shredded, and the stuffing from a pillow seemed to have been scattered in every direction. Falcon’s backpack was torn up into five ragged pieces, and his schoolbooks and his coat had also been destroyed, along with the chemistry set and some of the old science equipment.
From the bunk over his head, Falcon heard the sound of someone snoring.
Oh my god, Falcon thought. It’s asleep.
Quietly he put his feet on the floor, then stood up slowly. The bedsprings creaked. He took a tiny step away from the bed, and the floor groaned beneath his foot. He took another step, and the floorboards squeaked again. From the top bunk, the monster continued to snore.
Falcon tiptoed across the room. He wondered, briefly, what had happened after the thing had breathed on him. Why hadn’t it torn him into little pieces and devoured him, as it had seemed so determined to do? How had he wound up back in his own bed, without a scratch?
He reached the door. There were huge slashes all over it. The claw tracks were filled with what looked like dried blood.
Falcon reached out and touched the doorknob. He felt the chill of the cold metal against his fingers.
“Hello there,” said a small, cheerful voice. “Are you my roommate?”
Falcon paused for a moment, then looked very, very slowly back over his left shoulder.
“Hi! I’m Lincoln Pugh! I come from California. Have you ever been there? They call it the Golden State. Because of the sunshine! I spend a lot of time outside. I’ve got rickets.”
Falcon blinked. There, sitting up in bed, was a tiny, pale boy with orange hair. He looked six years old. As Falcon watched, the child reached over and put on a pair of glasses. Without question they were the ugliest, dumbest pair of glasses Falcon had ever seen: the frames were rectangular, and enormous, and orange. They dwarfed the rest of Lincoln Pugh’s face.
The boy was wearing striped pajamas. Lincoln swung his feet out of bed and jumped onto the floor, then walked over to Falcon and extended his hand. “You can call me Linky,” he said.
“What?” said Falcon.
“Linky. It’s short for Lincoln. What’s your name?”
“Falcon. Falcon Quinn?”
Falcon looked at Lincoln’s hand for a moment, then grasped it. Lincoln Pugh had the weakest, coldest handshake Falcon had ever experienced. It was like shaking hands with a dead squirrel.
“Looks like we’re roommates,” said Lincoln. “Do you play tetherball? I love tetherball. And sudoku puzzles. You ever do those? I love them.”
“I don’t play…tetherball,” said Falcon. He looked around the room, at the torn curtains, at the ripped-up clothes and the broken chair. Then he looked back at Lincoln Pugh again.
Lincoln followed Falcon’s gaze. “Gee,” he said. “What happened in here?” He looked concerned. “Did you make this big mess?”
“No,” said Falcon. “There was a monster—it came in while I was asleep.”
“Oh, now, don’t start up with the talk of monsters,” said Lincoln. “My father tried that, and I told him it wasn’t acceptable. There are no such things as monsters. You ask me, I know. I have an IQ of one hundred twenty-seven.” Lincoln Pugh looked very proud of himself. “That’s high,” he said.
“I think there are monsters,” said Falcon. “This is the Academy for Monsters.”
“Please,” said Lincoln. He went over to the bed and pulled a small orange suitcase out from beneath the bottom bunk. The suitcase was unharmed. Lincoln removed a toothbrush from his case and came back to the door, where Falcon was still standing.
“Please what?”
“Don’t start with the monster talk. We all know why we’re here. We have issues. I’m not ashamed of it. Of having issues. In a way, it’s interesting.”
“Listen,” said Falcon. “There are monsters. I wouldn’t have said so yesterday, but believe me. There’s monsters. That’s all they have here is monsters.”
“Fine, whatever,” said Lincoln. “If that makes it easier for you. I, however, am a realist. You might as well know that now. I like to face facts. By the way, where is the bathroom? I would like to brush my teeth. And take medication for my ulcer.”
“You have an ulcer?”
“Oh yes,” said Lincoln. “A big one. Plus rickets.”
“The bathroom is just off the living-room space,” said Falcon. “The parlor.”
The tiny boy went out into the hallway. The door to the girls’ room opened at this same moment, and Destynee and Merideath came out.
“This is Merideath and Destynee,” said Falcon. “They’re vampires. Supposedly.”
“We are so totally vampires,” said Merideath.
“Please don’t speak that way,” said Lincoln. “It’s demeaning. I know I’m not well. That’s why I’m here. To get better. That’s why all of us are here.”
“Actually,” said Falcon, “we’re here because we’re monsters. They’re vampires. And you—I think you’re some kind of, like, bear. Thing.”
“A werebear?” said Lincoln. He shook his head. “This again.”
“I’m serious,” said Falcon. “Last night you came into my room and tore it into little pieces. Busted up the chair, clawed the wall. You pinned me to the floor and breathed this kind of nasty mist on me. I think you knocked me out with it.”
“Listen,” said Lincoln Pugh. “My father tried to tell these same fairy tales to me. That I changed at night into some sort of creature. I would not listen to him, and I will not listen to you. We need to face the facts! We all have problems, with reality. That’s why we’re here. To accept reality!”
And with that, Lincoln Pugh walked into the bathroom with his toothbrush and closed the door.
Destynee and Merideath stared at Falcon.
“He is definitely some kind of werebear,” said Falcon. “You should have seen him last night. He trashed the room completely.”
“Him?” said Merideath. “A werebear?”
Destynee was staring at Falcon’s face. “Hey,” she said. “What’s the story with your eyes, anyway?”
“Yeah,” said Merideath. “Your eyes are weird.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your eyes are two different colors. They’re weird.”
“They’ve always been different colors. I was born this way, okay? It’s not my fault!”
“Jeez,” said Merideath. “Somebody got out of the wrong side of the casket today.”
Megan came out of her room wearing a robe. She tried to get into the bathroom, but it was locked.
“Sorry, Megan,” said Merideath. “Falcon’s new roommate is in there.”
“Really?” said Megan. “What’s he like?”
Merideath rolled her eyes. “He’s a werenerd.”
From outside came the roar of an engine. They all moved toward the window, expecting to see the school bus. Instead a beat-up van came lurching down the drive. One of its doors opened, and although the van hadn’t really stopped, a young man with rumpled blond hair either jumped or was pushed out. He landed on his feet, turned back toward the van, and yelled something after it as it roared away. Just before the van reached the gates, a duffel bag was thrown out of one of the windows and landed in the dirt. The boy again yelled something at the driver, who roared through the Academy’s gates, leaving the yo
ung man standing there in a cloud of dust. After a moment he walked over to the duffel, heaved one of its straps over his shoulder, and began to walk angrily toward the main stairs leading up to Castle Grisleigh.
There was a buzzing sound from overhead, and they looked up to see Pearl flying down from the high shelf where she had slept. She hovered in front of Lincoln Pugh, who had just opened the bathroom door. “And good day to you, Señor Weird Glasses,” she said. “I am—¡la Chupakabra!”
Lincoln took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Not seeing this,” he said. “Not seeing this.”
“The famous goatsucker of Peru!”
Lincoln put his glasses back on, but he did not appear to believe what he saw. “Impossible,” he said.
“Hey,” she said to Falcon, “what is the situation of this little one?”
“He thinks he’s insane,” said Falcon. “He thinks there are no such things as monsters.”
Lincoln blinked rapidly. “I—I—I’ve never hallucinated you before,” he said. “I don’t think. Have I?”
“I do not believe in hallucinations,” said Pearl. “Just reality that has not yet come to pass.”
“I am not speaking to a hallucination,” said Lincoln. “It’s undignified.”
“She’s real,” said Falcon. “Seriously. She’s like a fairy, I guess.”
“I don’t believe in fairies,” said Lincoln Pugh.
“¡Ai!” said Pearl. “He is not a believer, in the fairies! But this shall destroy me! I am—in the throes of death! Auuggghhh!”
Pearl buzzed to the floor and crashed onto the carpet. She lay on her back with her feet in the air, her tongue hanging out.
“She’s—dying!” said Merideath. “Lincoln, you have to believe in Pearl! She’ll die if you don’t!”
“Oh, for heaven’s sakes,” said Lincoln. There are no such things as fairies! Everyone knows that!”
“Shut up,” said Destynee. There were tears in her eyes. “Listen. You’re not crazy. Fairies are real! You have to believe in Pearl! Or she’s going to die!”
Falcon Quinn and the Black Mirror Page 6