House of Secrets: Battle of the Beasts

by Columbus, Chris

  Eleanor reached the book, put her note in, and slammed it shut.

  “No!” the Wind Witch yelled, frantically trying to open the book with wind.

  But it was too late.

  The book was held closed by an unseen force.

  And then it vanished.

  The Book of Doom and Desire was completely gone, as if it had just winked out of existence.

  “Eleanor?” Cordelia asked. “What did you just do?”

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  Before Eleanor could answer, a disturbance appeared around Brendan’s shoulder. A small cyclone hovered in place there, looping inside his claw wound to send soothing coolness into him. This wasn’t the Wind Witch’s doing. She stared at the magic along with everyone else. Within seconds it proved to be a healing spell for Brendan’s wound. The claw marks closed up, the blood faded, and Brendan’s skin became smooth and clear. There was no evidence of the tiniest scratch.

  “Wow, thanks!” said Brendan. “Nell, did you do that?”

  Eleanor nodded.

  “Where did you send the book?” screeched the Wind Witch.

  “It’s gone,” said Eleanor. She wasn’t afraid of Dahlia Kristoff anymore. Not after doing what she just did. Something so brave and smart.

  “What do you mean, ‘gone’? Why did it disappear?!”

  “I asked it to,” said Eleanor.

  “You what?”

  “I wrote on the paper, ‘Brendan’s shoulder gets healed . . . the book goes away and can never return.’”

  The Wind Witch’s face turned bright red. Veins popped out of her temples.

  “So,” said Eleanor, narrowing her eyes at the Wind Witch, trying to look tough, “Now what are you gonna do?”

  “You . . . ,” Dahlia said, and for once she couldn’t find any words. She extended her prosthetic hands and sent a blast of air toward Brendan’s bed, blowing the covers off. Then she went to the bed and started looking for the book, getting on her hands and knees as if it had slipped underneath. “You can’t have gotten rid of the book. You can’t! Why would you do that? The book is power . . . it’s everything. . . .”

  “It’s gone,” Eleanor said.

  Cordelia hugged Eleanor as the Wind Witch continued to tear the sheets from the bed like a crazy person.

  “Let me get this straight,” Cordelia whispered. “You used The Book of Doom and Desire to get rid of itself?”

  “Yes.”

  “That was very brave, Nell—but how are we supposed to get home?”

  “I don’t . . .” Eleanor’s face fell. “I wasn’t thinking about that! I was just thinking: Now she won’t be able to bother us anymore!”

  “I thought you were going to make the Wind Witch disappear, not the book!”

  “I tried to make her disappear before and it didn’t work!”

  “No!” the Wind Witch suddenly said. She had frantically searched every nook and corner of the room. “You brat! You really did it! It’s completely gone!”

  “That’s right,” Eleanor said. “You’d better get used to life without it.”

  “Die!” the Wind Witch screamed.

  A tremendous blast of wind pinned Eleanor against the opposite wall, knocking Cordelia away.

  Brendan and Will rushed the Wind Witch, but she kicked them to the floor. She was hovering, flapping her wings, shooting hurricane-force winds at Eleanor’s face. Cordelia hit her head against the attic wall. Eleanor was facing a blast that seemed to come from the world’s most powerful wind tunnel. How dumb was I to try and take her on? How could I really think I was smarter?

  “I’m going to blow the flesh clean off your bones!”

  Eleanor couldn’t close her eyes. The wind was keeping them open. It rushed into her ears and nose. It trapped her against the wall, tore her shirt sleeves off, and rippled her whole body. She saw the skin of her arms starting to move toward her shoulders, as if someone were kneading it; she knew that when the wind got stronger she was going to tear and peel open. The Wind Witch screamed—but Eleanor heard something in her scream she didn’t expect.

  Frustration.

  The Wind Witch’s plan was not working.

  Will and Brendan and Cordelia stood back, equally impressed and amazed with what they were seeing.

  Eleanor was held in stasis. She looked at her pants, her shoes. Her pants were tearing away in tiny strips. Her shoelaces went straight back, as if they had magnets on the end.

  But her skin was holding together.

  “Why can’t you just . . . die! Die! Die!!!” the Wind Witch gasped, gritting her teeth, turning her face into a horrible mask of frustration and anger.

  And then she lowered her arms.

  She had been defeated.

  Eleanor fell forward, no longer pinned to the wall. She was exhausted and terrified, but she had survived. Even when it was impossible to do so.

  The Wind Witch dropped to her knees.

  “You should be dead!” she snarled at Eleanor, then turned to Brendan, Cordelia, and Will. “My powers have never failed. Not once! But I’ll get to the bottom of this. You’ll see! And then I’ll return to kill all of you!”

  She clasped her hands together over her head and started to spin like a top. A purple glow surrounded the Wind Witch as the air around her swirled faster and faster—and then she was gone.

  “What was that?” Brendan called, running to Eleanor, hugging her. He held her tighter than he ever had before, and within seconds Cordelia joined him, and then Will. “Are you all right?”

  “I think so,” Eleanor said. “But I felt her trying to kill me with everything she had, because I made the book go away.”

  “She couldn’t,” Will said. “You were too strong.”

  “I don’t . . . I don’t feel strong,” Eleanor said. It was all she could do to catch her breath. She wanted to lie down and rest for about two hundred years. She wanted a bath and to watch some TV. But then she heard the crowd outside. All this craziness and we’re still stuck here! With no Mom or Dad!

  “There’s something else going on here,” Cordelia said. “What the Wind Witch just did . . . that was a full-fledged attack. It would have killed any of us. But Eleanor lived.”

  “Maybe it has to do with the book being gone,” Brendan said. “Maybe the Wind Witch’s power comes from the book.”

  “Whatever happened,” Cordelia said, “without that book, I don’t know how we get home.”

  Eleanor nodded. She had temporarily forgotten about her huge mistake. Now, having it pointed out, she felt like the dumbest person in the world.

  “I’m sorry . . . I wasn’t thinking about that. . . .”

  “It’s okay,” Brendan said. “We’ll figure something out. The most important thing is that you’re okay.”

  “Maybe there’s another book,” Eleanor said. “Or another . . . something. Somewhere in this house. We know that Denver Kristoff used to travel into his books. And didn’t he write over a hundred books? So maybe he used one of them to get in and out of the others.”

  They all looked at her. At that moment, they didn’t see their little sister. They saw a brave warrior who would one day grow into a confident, powerful person. Brendan thought, Someday I might be asking her for a job.

  “That’s exactly right,” resolved Cordelia. “We’ll start looking for another way home. But first we’re going to have to hug you a little bit longer, because you were so brave.”

  “Uh, Deal?” Eleanor said. “I don’t think you can.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we have visitors.”

  Eleanor pointed to the attic door.

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  In person, Emperor Occipus looked like a big thumb. But his posse made
up for it. His manservant/announcer was beside him, along with three tall guards who carried spears and stood at attention with shimmering chest muscles and massive biceps. Behind them was a beautiful woman with jet-black hair that had bright silver threads woven into it. They all stood in the attic. The guards had carried Occipus up as if he were a toddler.

  “Well?” Occipus said. Without an announcer translating his words, he possessed a flat, froggy voice.

  The announcer, who had long, curly blond hair that hung to his shoulders, reminded Brendan of Roger Daltrey, the vain lead singer of his dad’s favorite band, the Who. He whipped back his long mane and said, “Emperor Occipus says, ‘Well?’”

  Brendan dropped into a deep bow. The others followed. Occipus was confused; bowing was not a Roman custom.

  “Raise your heads and tell me where you hail from!” Occipus said; it was hard not to laugh at his blatting tone. “And which one of you turned my lions into clumsy, portly creatures?”

  Brendan gulped. “Ummm . . . I guess . . . I did, sir. Your highness. Emperor-ness.”

  “You will address my master as ‘Supreme Emperor,’” the announcer said.

  “Now, Rodicus, no need to frighten the boy,” said Occipus. “Boy? What is your name?”

  “Brendan, Supreme Emperor.”

  “And who are your retinue?”

  “Reti-what?” whispered Eleanor.

  “Retinue, as in people who follow Brendan around,” Cordelia said. “The Supreme Emperor thinks we’re his servants.”

  “Well?” Occipus insisted.

  “These are my sisters, Cordelia and Eleanor, and my friend Will,” said Brendan.

  “What odd names. Where are you from?”

  “Brittania,” said Will, “and New Brittania, for these youngsters. A land you have yet to conquer.” Occipus stared at him expectantly. “Supreme Emperor.”

  “A land I haven’t conquered?” Occipus shared a smile with the dark-haired woman. “How unexpected! You will have to tell me all about it. Now, can you hear the voices outside?”

  They did. The people in the Colosseum were cheering, chanting.

  “The crowd is cheering for Brendan here, who performed magic on the lions. I was certain those lions would drag out anyone they found alive.”

  “You mean they wouldn’t have bitten my face off?”

  “Oh, they would have definitely bitten your face off,” said Occipus. “Then they would have moved on to the more fleshy bits, finishing off with your scrumptious internal bits.”

  “Ohhhh,” said Brendan, the color leaving his face.

  “But they’ll only do it in front of spectators,” said Occipus. “They’re trained to kill in the presence of a crowd, so everyone can get their money’s worth. Are you the same way, Brendan of New Brittania? Trained to kill?”

  “I’m not really a killer, Supreme Emperor,” said Brendan.

  “But you defeated those beasts. I say it’s time to meet your public.”

  “My what?” asked Brendan, but then he realized what was happening. All that cheering and chanting . . . it was for him.

  A slow, satisfied smile grew across Brendan’s face. Cordelia, Eleanor, and Will looked at one another, thinking, This is not good.

  A few minutes later they were all outside, standing in front of Kristoff House surrounded by fifty thousand screaming men and women under a scorching blue sky. The Colosseum smelled of food and sweat and char and dirt and blood. It was as if they had journeyed into a deeper part of humanity, a part that later generations had paved over.

  Occipus spoke and Rodicus amplified his words through his primitive megaphone, which had been wheeled into the arena. As the speech went on, Cordelia saw the black-haired woman rubbing Occipus’s doughy shoulder.

  “The emperor has discovered a shocking secret that will be the talk of Rome for days! Our lions were magically defeated by a band of wild children from afar, led by Brendan of New Brittania!”

  Rodicus ushered the other kids aside so the crowd could get a good look at Brendan.

  “Lion tamer! Lion tamer!” the crowd roared.

  Brendan waved. He had a feeling in his chest that he hadn’t felt for a long time. Back before he started Bay Academy Prep, at his old school, he had been on the lacrosse team, and this was the feeling he would get when he scored a goal in front of the home-team crowd. It was the warmth that came from admiration, from being a star. He hadn’t realized until just now how absent it had been from his life. At Bay Academy he was never the star; he was always the joke, always out of place. But the glow in his chest now, set off by this crowd, made him feel that the last place he expected was the place he belonged: ancient Rome.

  “Lion tamer!”

  He had done that. He had stopped a lion—no, two. He could imagine people saying, “Did you hear about the boy who beat two lions?” Within a few days he would be one of the most famous people in Rome.

  Brendan wasn’t sure how long this feeling would last, so he kept waving, basking in the crowd’s admiration. Then he turned back to Eleanor and said, “Maybe it’s not such a bad thing that you got rid of the book. I think this might be a great place for us.”

  “You mean for you,” said Eleanor.

  “Watch it,” said Brendan with a smile, “you’re talking to the lion tamer!”

  Eleanor could tell he meant it as a joke, but there was some truth behind it. Brendan was starting to think of himself as someone different. This wasn’t going to end well.

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  The Walkers and Will spent the rest of the day in Emperor Occipus’s royal stadium box. Despite being desperate to get home, and worried about their parents, they had to admit it was pretty luxurious.

  First, they were escorted across the Colosseum as the crowd chanted and Brendan stopped every few steps to wave. It took a good ten minutes of him preening and prancing around like a rock star before they finally made it to the gate under the box. Then they went up a secret, guarded passageway and emerged on the platform, which was like the observation deck of a skyscraper. It put them right over the arena, able to see the crowd and battlefield. Occipus’s black-haired female companion snapped her fingers and the area’s many servants disappeared and came back with food: olives, fresh-baked bread, rich cheese and wine, and a roast suckling pig, which Cordelia thought was disgusting. (Will had no problem snatching the apple from the pig’s mouth and taking a bite, proclaiming, “Lovely.”)

  “Can you believe how many servants work for this dude?” Brendan said. He was lounging on a gold-plated divan, trying not to stare at the blushing girls who served him food but kept their distance.

  “They’re not servants,” Will said. “The word for them in Latin may be servus, but they aren’t getting paid. They’re slaves.” Will turned to Cordelia. “Did you forget that I took Latin in school?”

  “Very impressive,” Cordelia said, rolling her eyes.

  “Do you think I’m allowed to talk to the slave girls?” Brendan asked. “They’re looking at me! And smiling! And that red-haired one . . . she winked at me!”

  “Brendan, they’re not here for your amusement,” Will warned. “They’re trapped here, just as we are.”

  For that, Cordelia gave Will’s hand a squeeze. “Did you do women’s studies in school as well?”

  Will gave her a blank look: “What’s that?”

  “Hold on a minute,” Brendan said. “I thought these girls liked me! I thought they liked my jokes.”

  “Has anyone ever liked your jokes?” Cordelia asked.

  “Well . . . no.”

  “Don’t worry, Bren,” said Eleanor, patting his hand. “Someday you’ll find a real girl who thinks you’re funny.”

  Brendan flashed on Celene, the girl he had seen all-too-briefly the last time he was in one of Kristoff’s worlds. Celene would probably declare right away that
the emperor was oppressing the people and needed to be removed. Which is what Cordelia would say—but Celene was so much prettier than Cordelia! It didn’t matter. She was in some other book. Brendan bit into a pork chop.

  “Guys,” said Cordelia, “I think we should eat and run. We need to get back to our house, which luckily is still in the middle of the arena. I don’t know how long the Romans are going to let it stay there.”

  “Why do you want to go back to Kristoff House?” asked Brendan, juice dripping down his chin.

  “Because we need to find a way home. We should look around in the library to see if there’s another book like The Book of Doom and Desire that can bring us back to Mom and Dad.”

  “I want to see them too,” Brendan said, “but do we have to start right now? I mean, it’s pretty sweet up here! They’re treating us like royalty.”

  “No, Bren, they’re treating you like royalty,” said Cordelia, nodding to his pork chop.

  “So? You guys are along for the ride. What’s so bad about being my retinue?”

  “I’m going to do you a favor and forget you said that.”

  “I just don’t get it. You’d rather go into a house where we almost got killed by lions than hang out up here, eating olives and drinking wine.”

  “Brendan! You’re not supposed to drink the wine!”

  “I’m just tasting it.”

  Brendan grabbed the silver goblet in front of him and took a hefty sip of wine, sloshing it around in his mouth. His face turned green and he spat the wine out on the floor. Everyone in the balcony turned, including Emperor Occipus.

  “Ughhh, that stuff tastes like vomit mixed with cat litter!”

  Occipus laughed—and all his slaves laughed too. “Our child warrior has never tasted wine! Bring him some goat’s milk and honey so he can enjoy himself.”