Falcon Quinn and the Black Mirror

by Jennifer Finney Boylan

  “You have no idea,” said Jonny.

  They ran across Grisleigh Quad and back into the castle, down the long staircase that led into the castle’s depths. The steps down to the catacombs were lit by a series of flickering torches on the walls, and the smoke from the torches hung heavily in the air. The stairs widened as Jonny and Falcon wound down into the pit of the earth, and soon they passed into the great open space with its many columns. They rushed into the catacombs, past the mausoleum of Zoron Grisleigh, past the tomb of the pharaoh with its onyx statuary and golden sarcophagus, past the armory with its battle gear for three-armed creatures. Soon they arrived at the large circular depression in the floor with the bubbling Fountain of Yuck in its midst and the torchlit entrance to the Tunnel of Dusk on one wall.

  There, floating before the entrance to the tunnel, was a small but sturdy-looking ship with a small mast and sails made from winding-sheets. Weems was standing at the stern, attaching a board upon which he had painted the ship’s name: DESTYNEE II.

  The Sasquatches—Max, Woody, and Peeler—were sitting on the stone wall that surrounded the Fountain of Yuck. Next to them were Megan and Pearl.

  “Dudes,” said Woody, as Falcon and Jonny approached. “You’re here!”

  Weems stepped toward them. “It is finished,” he said with pride. “With these hands—I made it! Board by board. Sail by sail!”

  “He used the boards from some of those old coffins,” said Max. “Used finger bones for nails!”

  “It is not a very beautiful craft,” said Weems, “but it will serve its purpose.”

  “Surely this is a vessel of extraordinary beauty!” said Pearl. “Considering that it has been built from the coffins of those who are dead!”

  “Very impressive, Weems,” said Falcon.

  “You shouldn’t all act so surprised,” said the ghoul. “As if all I am good for is the toasting of flesh!” He looked at Falcon and Jonny uncertainly. “But where—where is Destynee? As you can see, this vessel has been named in her honor!”

  Falcon glanced urgently at Pearl and Megan. “You didn’t tell him?”

  “Tell me what?” said Weems, his eyes growing wide.

  “She’s not coming, Weems,” said Jonny. “She wants to stay.”

  “What?” said Weems. “How can this be?”

  “She says she wants to become—human,” said Falcon.

  “No,” said Weems. “She can’t—”

  “This is the choice she has made,” said Pearl. “And we cannot come between her and the decisions of her heart.”

  “But—”

  “Sorry, Weems,” said Jonny Frankenstein, clapping him on the shoulder. “Tough break.”

  “You guys hungry?” said Max. “We ordered up some pizza from the pizza genie.”

  “I do not wish for pizza!” shouted Weems. “I wish for nothing!” Then he stormed away from them, to stand alone by the ship in his fury and despair.

  “Whoa,” said Max. “Somebody crawled out of the wrong side of the grave today.”

  “Poor thing,” said Megan.

  Falcon looked at Weems, standing by his ship with his back to them.

  “He’ll be all right,” said Max. “There’s plenty of slugs in the sea.”

  But Falcon still had his eyes on Weems, as the boy picked a hammer up off of the ground.

  “Dude,” said Peeler.

  Slowly Weems used the back of the hammer to pry the board that read DESTYNEE II off the stern.

  Algol was dimly aware of something rubbery smacking against his face. The journey back to consciousness was not short, and Algol’s mind reeled for a long time before his eyes opened and he realized that Mr. Hake was slapping his cheek with a tentacle.

  “It wakes,” said the moth man.

  “There you are,” said Mr. Hake, transforming from the Terrible Kraken back to his cardigan-wearing self. “Wakey, wakey!”

  “Oh, ’ow it burns,” Algol gasped. “Me ’ol body fried like a basket o’ chips!”

  “Did the Quinn boy do this to you?” said Mrs. Redflint, standing next to Mr. Pupae. “Did he use the eye?”

  “No, it wasn’t Quinnsy; it was that nasty, nasty Jonny Frankenstein,” said Algol. “’E’s got lightning! Fried me full o’ ’lectricity, the ’orrible, disgustin’ creature!”

  “It is degrading, then,” said the moth man. “Soon it will be undone.”

  “Did Jonny stone the doctor as well?” asked Mrs. Redflint, looking at the calcified form of Dr. Medulla.

  “No, that was Quinnsy ’oo did that,” said Algol shiftily. “Pushed ’im right over, by surprise! I tried to ’elp the doctor—I fought Quinnsy wif me bare ’ands an’ fists! I’d ’av done anything to ’elp the master! Anything!”

  “Where did they go?” said Mrs. Redflint.

  “’Ow would I know where they went? I was knocked out cold, dreaming of just the slightest, tiniest bit of affection! Now, without the doctor, I’m deprived of me own most decent of benefactors! Now I am bereft of all kindness and fren’ship, all alone wifout ’ope.”

  “It stops talking,” said the moth man.

  “Oo, naturally, Algol stops talking. Algol wouldn’t be’ave in a manner contrary to the wishes of ’is superiors.”

  “Let us get the hounds, then,” said Mrs. Redflint. “They will assist us in the search.” She looked thoughtfully at the others. “It’s encouraging, in a way, isn’t it? The spirit they show.”

  “It does not know that it is taking the test,” said the moth man. “Even with this, it is taking the test that we have laid before it.”

  “Well, let us keep them in the dark,” said Mrs. Redflint. “Let them proceed, and we will see what end they reach.”

  “They think they’re fighting us,” said Mr. Hake. “But they don’t know what they’re fighting. They never do!”

  The moth man twitched. “It is a dangerous test,” he said. “Made more dangerous by the instability of this Quinn. And this Jonny.” The moth man’s mouth chewed the empty air for a moment. “The headmaster should be notified.” He turned to leave the room.

  “Are you certain it’s necessary to disturb him?” said Mrs. Redflint cautiously. “I think we’ve got things in hand, Mr. Pupae.”

  “It wishes to know,” said the moth man. “It must be told.”

  Mrs. Redflint looked at Mr. Hake nervously. “Very well, Mr. Pupae. In the meantime, we shall carry on. Mr. Hake and I shall summon the canines. Mr. Algol, meet us in the castle, please? Listen for the baying of the hounds.”

  “I like puppy dogs!” said Mr. Hake. He looked at Algol. “Do you like puppy dogs?”

  “Aye,” said Algol. “Thank you for slapping me, Mr. ’Ake. Since you’re the one ’oo brought me back to meself, it’s you I’ll serve now as me master.”

  “I like being master!” said Mr. Hake.

  “You mark me words,” said Algol with a private grin. “I’ll serve you just like I served the doctor. Aye, I’ll serve you just the same, I shall!”

  A short time later, two shadows flitted through the hallways of the Tower of Moonlight. They passed through the central parlor and entered the boys’ dormitory, past the bed in which Turpin lay sleeping, and over to the other side of the room.

  “Scout, Ranger,” said Mrs. Redflint. “Wake up.”

  Scout opened his eyes and looked at her. Ranger did the same. The weredogs growled softly.

  “Smell these,” said Mr. Hake. He handed Ranger a shirt that had belonged to Jonny Frankenstein. To Scout he gave a shirt that had belonged to Falcon. “Take a good smelly-welly.”

  The two weredogs snuffed them. “Got ’em, got ’em, got ’em,” said Scout and Ranger together.

  “Do you think you could help us find these children?” said Mrs. Redflint. “Falcon Quinn and Jonny Frankenstein. We’d be so grateful if you could help us hunt them.”

  “Got ’em, got ’em, got ’em.” Ranger and Scout were bouncing all over the place now, their tongues heaving in and out of their
slobbery lips. “Find ’em, find ’em, bite ’em to shreds!”

  “Hey…,” said a voice from the other side of the room. “What’s—”

  “You can keep sleeping, Mr. Turpin,” said Mr. Hake. “Sleeping’s important!”

  “…going…”

  “Mr. Turpin, you will go back to sleep,” said Mrs. Redflint.

  “…on?” said Turpin.

  “Come,” said Mrs. Redflint, and Scout and Ranger bounded out the door, growling and snarling. Mr. Hake followed after them. There was a sound of many feet scuffling through the parlor, then trampling down the long staircase that led from the Tower of Moonlight back into the castle.

  Turpin, lying in his bed, heard the sound of his roommates baying. Whatever it was they were tracking, they’d clearly found its trail.

  “Must…,” said Turpin, “…get…help.”

  Turpin pushed his blanket back, slowly, slowly, slowly. Then he put his foot on the floor. Thirty seconds later, he put another foot on the floor. It took him about a minute to take a step, then another. In the depths of the castle, he heard Scout and Ranger baying again, more excitedly now.

  “Must…,” said Turpin. He’d taken about five steps in the last three minutes. “…get…” He took another step, then paused, out of breath. “…help.”

  From behind him, on the stairs, came a scrabbling sound. It was soft at first, then grew louder as it grew near. The shadow of something large and malicious wriggled across the floor.

  Reverend Thorax poked his head through the door frame and stood motionless for a moment, taking a long, emotionless look at his prey.

  Then he began to move forward.

  Turpin turned around and began to run as fast as he could away from the giant mantis, away from his wriggling raptorial claws and his impassive triangular head.

  But Turpin wasn’t very fast.

  Destynee sat at her desk, looking at the almost-blank page before her. At the top of the page was written, “Falcon’s Farewell.”

  She wanted to write a poem, but she couldn’t find the words. Destynee felt tears burning in her eyes, but she tried to hold them back; the last time she had let tears fall on her cheeks, she had half melted off her own face. Then she heard footsteps on the stairs.

  “Falcon—?” she said, as she turned toward the door.

  But it wasn’t Falcon.

  The tall, gaunt man in the tattered cloak looked at Destynee with his piercing black eyes for a moment. His sinewy black wings pulsed in the air above him. Around his neck was a large stopwatch. Its loud ticking sound filled the room.

  “You will tell me where they are,” he said.

  “I don’t—Who are you?”

  There was a sudden woosh, and in that moment a plume of blue flame came to life above the man’s head.

  “I am called Crow,” said the man. “The headmaster. And now you will tell me where they are.”

  “Where who are?” said Destynee.

  He sighed. “Never mind,” he said. “I’ll suck it out of your brain myself.” Then he lifted his right hand, which was shaped like a suction cup, and placed it on the side of Destynee’s temple. Her face went blank, and then salt tears began to flow down her cheeks. With a molten hiss, she began to dissolve.

  “You’re—you’re sucking my brain…”

  The headmaster nodded. His suction-cup hand began to glow purple. “Exactly,” he said.

  “Okay, dudes,” said Max. “All aboard that’s going aboard!”

  Jonny and Megan, Pearl and Falcon, and the three Sasquatches stepped onto the boards of Weems’s ship. Jonny leaned his guitar against the railing by the stern. Megan stared up at the sails.

  “Where did the sails come from?” she asked.

  Weems stood on the wall by the fountain, cradling the board marked DESTYNEE II.

  “Weems?” said Megan.

  “Hmm? Ah yes. The sails. Made from shrouds. Strong, but light as silk. They will fill with the breezes of the ocean and carry you far from here.”

  Megan flickered restlessly. “I kind of want to go into wind form right now,” she said. “And fill these sails.”

  “Why don’t you?” said Jonny.

  “I could,” said Megan. “But lately it’s been getting harder to change back. I’m afraid I might get stuck.”

  “Go on,” said Weems. “Be the wind. Everyone can be free, except for Weems.”

  “What are you talking about, dude?” said Max. “Come on. Climb aboard. We gotta go!”

  “You shall go,” said the ghoul. “But Weems shall remain behind.”

  “Dude—why?” said Max. “You know what happens to you if you stay here?”

  “I know,” snapped Weems. “I know well what waits for Weems.”

  “But—,” said Falcon.

  “Falcon,” whispered Megan.

  Weems put down the board and untied the ropes. “Go,” he said. “I shall stay here and protect the beloved.”

  Slowly the ship began to drift down the River of Crud. Weems stood at the edge of the flowing waters and waved. Falcon and the others waved back.

  “Farewell,” said Weems.

  There was the flickering of torchlight, and at this moment, Mr. Hake, Mrs. Redflint, and Algol appeared at the top of the stairs. Scout and Ranger were baying wildly at their sides, restrained by thick black leashes.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sakes,” said Mrs. Redflint. “Where did you get a ship?”

  “Where?” said Weems, looking at her with contempt. “I built it, Mrs. Redflint. I!” He held up his pale fingers. “With these hands, I built it, board by board, sail by sail!”

  “Release the hounds!” said Mr. Hake. Mrs. Redflint unleashed the weredogs, and they bounded toward Weems, snarling and writhing.

  “Weems!” shouted Megan.

  Just as the weredogs leaped toward his throat, Weems raised his hands in the air and opened his mouth wide. A brain-rattling shriek filled the catacombs, and everyone clapped their hands to their ears. Weems, however, kept on shrieking, and Scout and Ranger yelped in pain. They ran around his legs once, looked helplessly at Mrs. Redflint, and then ran, whimpering, up the stairs. The sound of their paws on the cold stone floor grew distant as the weredogs retreated.

  “Dude,” said Max. “The Crystal Scream.”

  Mrs. Redflint, still recovering from the ear-piercing sound, sighed in exasperation. Then she blew a great cloud of red fire toward Weems, engulfing him. When the smoke cleared, Weems was covered with soot.

  “You shall not shriek at me, Mr. Weems.”

  But Weems stood his ground. “Stand back,” he said. “Back! Or I shall unveil the scream once more!”

  “Oh, please,” said Mrs. Redflint. “Mr. Hake? Will you do the honors?”

  Mr. Hake nodded, then transformed into the Terrible Kraken, and began to wriggle down the stairs. As he extended a tentacle toward the ghoul, Weems let loose another terrible shriek. But this time it was to no avail. Mr. Hake squiggled toward Weems, encircled him with his sucker-covered tentacle, and dropped him into his mouth.

  “Weems!” said Megan.

  Algol smiled. “’E really is stunnin’, you ’av to give ’im that. There’s nobody for devourin’ like ol’ Mr. ’Ake!”

  “Now then,” said Mrs. Redflint. “If you would all please come back to the wall here, I think we can put an end to this little misadventure.”

  “Dude,” said Max, looking at his fellow Sasquatches. Woody and Peeler looked at him with dismay.

  Mr. Hake wriggled to the edge of the wall and wrapped one of his tentacles around the mainmast, hauling the boat back toward where he stood. Algol scampered after him and helped to moor the ship again.

  “All right, then,” said Mrs. Redflint, “let’s all step nicely back onto the wall. I suppose you all know this means dungeon. Dungeon for all of you. Even Mr. Weems, assuming we can get him out of Mr. Hake’s gullet.”

  Mr. Hake wriggled enthusiastically.

  “Come along, now. Fun’s ove
r.”

  Jonny Frankenstein stood closest to the wall as Mr. Hake pulled them back. “Okay,” said Jonny. “You got us.”

  “Aye,” said Algol. “We’ve got them!”

  “What was your plan?” asked Mrs. Redflint. “To float down the River of Crud, out through the Cave of the Eye and into the Sea of Dragons? Don’t you know what’s out there, children? At the place where the Tunnel of the Dusk meets the sea? Monster destroyers. Creatures who are dedicated to your destruction.” She gave Falcon Quinn a hard look. “But perhaps that was your desire, Falcon, to lead them to their doom?”

  “You’re dedicated to our destruction,” said Max bitterly.

  “It is by destroying you,” said Mrs. Redflint, “that we shall save you. Come now. Step off your coffin. That’s a good fellow.”

  Jonny Frankenstein reached toward Mrs. Redflint. “Give me a hand,” he said as he disembarked.

  “Thought you were rather clever, didn’t you?” said Mrs. Redflint.

  “You have no idea,” said Jonny.

  And at this moment he raised both of his hands to Mrs. Redflint’s neck. His eyes turned red, and suddenly crackling bolts of lightning shot out of his hands and enveloped the dragon lady from head to toe. Mrs. Redflint stuck out her tongue as she shook with the voltage. Black smoke puffed from her nostrils, a little at first, then a lot. Mrs. Redflint’s eyes rolled back in her head, and then she fell with a clunk.

  Mr. Hake’s tentacles gyrated wildly, and the Terrible Kraken wriggled toward Jonny. One tentacle reached out for him. But Jonny turned toward Mr. Hake and spread his fingers wide—and lightning bolts forked and twisted from his palms, enveloping Mr. Hake completely with his twisting, blinding electricity. The tentacles shot out in every direction, then suddenly went limp. Mr. Hake fell over, motionless on the stone floor next to Mrs. Redflint.

  “Oh, mercy, mercy,” said Algol. “Don’t use your ’orrible ’lectricity upon me again! ’Av pity upon a poor, ’omeless wretch, a miserable soul ’oo’s nevah known the slightest bit of—”

  Jonny turned toward Algol and once more smote the hunchback with his forking blue bolts. A moment later, Algol fell to the ground. Jonny stood above them triumphantly.