With a Kiss

by Stephanie Fowers

  Chapter Ten

  Wail no more, lonely one, mother of exiles, wail no more,

  Banshee of the world—no more!

  The sorrows are the world's, thou art no more alone;

  Thy wrongs, the world's.

  —John Todhunter, The Banshee

  Things were getting out of hand. My shadow was turning into me. Well, at least I thought she was. She was no longer in black and white; she was in color. And she was wearing my clothes—my most preppy ones that I never touched.

  I blinked, feeling the dull ache behind my eyes. I really didn't understand how the faery queen thought I was supposed to protect her child if she cursed me with this exhaustion. It was the night of the second day and still no sleep. And tomorrow? Death waited for me unless I took advantage of the night. According to my notes, it was the best time to get to the Sidhe.

  After coming home from the park, I had thrown on my black sweats and T-shirt and fallen into my bed, enduring this sleepless fatigue as best as I could while I waited for the night to come. Now the moon shone brightly behind the pink curtains at my window, a gentle reminder that my time was up. I forced my weak legs off my bed and pushed myself to my feet.

  Babs blew into Hobs' face, and he blew back even harder. She squinted, the stray wisps of her growing hair flying around her pigtails. She had to be about two and a half years old now. Her skin still had that baby look to it. She puffed another gust of air at Hobs, her cute lips forming an O until they were engaged in a full-blown war. I left them on the floor with my shadow and trudged past them into the bathroom to get something for my headache.

  My toes sank into the pink shag rug next to the sink. There was only a slight ringing in my ears, but by now I was desperate to get rid of this dull pain. I swept aside the empty perfume bottles and my flat iron on the counter, trying not to look directly into the mirror. I reached for the aspirin, focusing on the full moon silhouetted against the fogged up window outside. The cabinet door creaked open. I heard a voice through the mirror on the other side of it.

  "My baby!"

  I dropped my hand. The cabinet door was open so that the mirror faced the wall. I couldn't move, not wanting to close it to see who I'd find staring back at me.

  "You must run!"

  I gave a strangled cry of surprise when I recognized the voice. It was Babs' mother! I felt like Snow White's evil stepmother consulting a mirror, but I had to see . . . I didn't want to see. "Run from what?" I asked. There was no answer. I hesitated, then reached up and shut the medicine cabinet.

  The beautiful faery queen watched me, her long platinum hair sweeping around her heart-shaped face just like before. I could see her world behind her. It was caked in white snow. The ice shone like glass. "Your destiny," she said urgently. "They're coming!"

  I jumped at the loud knock on the door and turned. "Get out of there! Quick!" It was Hobs.

  I checked out the mirror behind my shoulder. The faery queen was fading. "My baby . . ." she whispered. I felt helpless. I didn't know what I was running from. My destiny? What kind of answer was that?

  Her hand stretched out to me and then she was gone. Something else was taking her place. A dark shadow. It watched me like before, and suddenly I knew it hadn't been my own shadow last time. In a moment, it would be mottled and misshapen with red hair. Hobs ripped open the bathroom door and dragged me into my bedroom. He already had Babs. She clung to his neck. "They're coming!" he said. "Can't you hear the crickets? They're going crazy out there." Well, yeah, they were always chirping this time of night. He dragged us down the dark hall and into the kitchen. We skidded across the polished floor. "The crickets always know what's going on. Why weren't you listening to them?"

  "I can't understand crickets!"

  Hobs slid under the kitchen table, taking us with him, and I bumped my head against the table. I met his eyes, our noses almost touching. He grabbed my arm, pulling me even closer to him. "Cats are bad news in May . . . and every other month," he said in a harsh undertone. "Why would you ever keep one?"

  "What?"

  "That stupid cat talked!"

  I wrestled away from him. The cat talked? "What did Hairball say?"

  It was a ridiculous question and Hobs clearly saw it that way too because he just leaned back against the table leg, refusing to answer. "We can't let them see us."

  "Who?"

  Two legs approached us. Well, that's all I could see from under the table. But they were wearing my leg warmers. I tried not to think that they looked better on those shapely calves than on my stick ones. Before her perfect knees bent down and she stuck her pretty face under the table, I already suspected it was Daphne. The flowery tablecloth spread across her blonde hair like a veil. It looked like my sister, but the way things were going, I couldn't be sure. She grinned at us and I relaxed. Only Daphne had that silly grin. "What happened to the baby?" she asked. She tickled Babs' cheek. "Who's this little one? Did she grow overnight?"

  "Uh." I glanced at Babs. The horns of hair on the top of her head were growing even longer from this morning and now they hung limply over her ears. There was no way I could pass her off as the infant she was before. Not even Daphne would swallow such a tale. Babs wore her solemn expression. That part of her never changed. "She's the older sister," I said quickly. "They're just kind of farming the kids out right now. The parents didn't really want a high schooler having the baby for that long, so they gave me the . . . uh . . . three-ish-year-old."

  "What's this one's name?"

  I hesitated.

  "Halley!" Babs blurted. Her tiny hands went out to me.

  I pulled her from Hobs, nodding vigorously. "What do you know? She has my name."

  "Huh." Daphne's grin went wider. "What do you know? Let me guess, you didn't bother to listen for this kid's name either?" She clucked her tongue at Babs' black T-shirt. It was mine, and it swallowed the poor girl. "Hey, we've got some toddler clothes leftover from the twins. They're a little retro now, but I'll go get them." Without waiting for an answer, she left us.

  "Get . . . them!" Babs copied her. Her fat fingers caught at the air and squeezed, and I wondered what she was really doing. It was probably something way over my head.

  Hobs let out a breath. His arm had managed to find its way around me in our cramped quarters under the table. "That's why we can't say anything important around Babs. She'll just repeat it like your cat did."

  I glanced over at him. Hobs must follow that rule around me too. Who was chasing us for instance? "I saw the faery queen in the bathroom mirror." I watched for his reaction.

  I wasn't disappointed. He looked positively rattled. "What? Is she losing her power?" He ran shaky fingers through his blond hair. "She could've pulled you right through. You know that, right? Stay away from mirrors."

  My mouth went dry. "Wouldn't that have solved our problem?"

  "No . . . no . . . I wouldn't say that."

  "What would you say?"

  I became aware of a sound that at first seemed like the wind, the sound of . . . sobbing. Someone was crying outside the window by the kitchen sink. Was it one of my little sisters? My awakening heart couldn't take it. I tried to crawl out from the table, but Hobs wrenched me back, holding me in place with one arm. Now I knew why he had strategically placed it there. "Are you insane? There's a whole army at the Sidhe's disposal . . . and they're a little leaderless right now. That means the hag has control over them. We can't let them see you."

  I wriggled away from him. "Unless you tell me what they are, I'm going out there to make sure that isn't one of my sisters crying."

  "Banshees. They cry when someone is about to die." He gave me an ironic smile. "In this case, they're going to kill us. Their cold breath on your face, the touch of their frozen fingers on your unprotected skin—it will mean your death. Can you understand that?"

  His words sucked the fight right out of me. "Will my family be alright?"

  He studied my worried expression, looking confused. "Yeah, yeah .
. . they'll be fine. It's the ones who hear the cry of the Banshees who have a problem."

  That was good. My family couldn't hear them. Could Babs? She played with her fingers in an unconcerned manner. Either she couldn't hear them or she was used to the racket. "Maybe we should get the cat," I said. "I hear faeries don't like them."

  "I told you I don't trust your cat."

  "I don't care!" I said. "I can't take the sound. Hobs, could you just sing or something and drown them out? We'll sing at the top of our lungs! Then we won't hear them."

  "How about we die with some dignity instead?"

  Daphne moved the tablecloth to squeeze under the table with us. I jumped, and she just smiled brightly at me, as if it was perfectly normal to camp under the table. "Well, you can't carry a tune, so it might sound pretty bad," she said, catching onto the tail end of our conversation. She spread out the red-and-white skirts of her Omak High cheerleading outfit over her knees, unknowingly shoving Hobs back.

  With a teasing look, she sang as she stuffed Babs' legs into the baby jeans. She had inherited the same singing ailment I did, and Hobs winced. The Banshees' sobbing hesitated. She was throwing off their rhythm. I wasn't one to lose a perfectly good opportunity, and I quickly joined in with her. The Banshees screamed out angrily, and I had to agree with them. It was pretty bad—maybe even scary. Daphne was completely oblivious to our clashing voices as she pulled a little pink shirt with a flower over Babs' rounded belly.

  More legs approached us and a whole army of blond heads popped beneath the table. My twin sisters and my dad. Just like Daphne, none of them were surprised to see us under the table. This was normal behavior in the Starr family, just not for me.

  "Hi, girls." My dad smiled at us, especially when he saw my tiara. "You're really getting into this faery queen thing," he said with a laugh. "Don't you ever take that off?"

  "Yeah, the . . . uh . . . kid likes it, so . . ."

  His eyes found her, and he turned serious. "Who are you babysitting now?"

  "Dad," I whined, because I knew that was how to get what I wanted. I ignored Hobs' arched brow. "You should see this poor family. They're a mess. One emergency after another. Anyway, I had to take this one in because they couldn't find anyone else."

  "We have the baby too?"

  "No, they took her back. And look at her. Isn't she adorable?"

  "Huh. Well, that's nice of you." And surprising, his voice clearly indicated. I had never been one for charity work before. He hesitated while he made his decision, and I tried to look like a saint and that I was really changing into a good kid because of my new responsibilities. I saw him give in again, and I relaxed.

  Kesley and Leslie pushed their way in next. Their blonde hair was plaited into twin braids, still wet from swimming practice. They wore the same pajamas. One had the bottoms and the other had the top—with the appropriate articles of clothing to finish off the ensembles, of course. Dad was still in his work clothes, though he looked to have parked his shoes and tie in the living room like always. "Want to watch a movie?" he asked. "It's an exciting one."

  I glanced down at Babs' horned head. "I don't know if she can handle it." At the same time, I really didn't want them to leave me alone in the kitchen and I tried to think of any excuse to make them stay. Nothing came out.

  "What do you think she'd want to watch?" my dad asked.

  "Snow White!" one of the twins said. She was already braiding Babs' hair. "I still have it!"

  "No . . ." I said weakly.

  "She'll love it," my dad promised. "And we're going to have ice cream and brownies."

  "Hey, that sounds like fun." Hobs nudged me mockingly towards my family—as if I could actually go, but there was no way. Already the Banshees were back to their incessant crying since Daphne had stopped offending their sensibilities with her singing.

  "I think I need to get this little one to bed." I tried to sing it as off key as I could, but it was a little embarrassing. "Sing with me everybody—a goodnight song."

  My sisters giggled.

  "Oh my, she's a strict mother, isn't she?" My dad looked oddly proud. "Don't worry, little girl," he told Babs. "Around here, bedtime is a treat. We'll tell her our favorite family bedtime stories. I'm sure she hasn't heard the one about the Starrs and the golden hen!"

  I gasped, but not because of that—Hobs had pinched me, like I was going to give in! "No!" I said after a swift elbow jab back. "She needs to go right to bed."

  My dad winked and stole Babs from me. I had no choice but to follow him out from under the table. The Banshees' cries grew louder at the sight of us. Their long white arms scratched across the windows. I refused to look directly at them. With voices like that, I didn't want to see what they looked like.

  Hobs reluctantly crawled out after me, giving me a reproachful look. We froze at the rapping on the door. "Lovely," he muttered. "Now they're knocking."

  "Do you hear that?" Daphne asked. Before I could stop her, she headed for the door.

  Hobs' hand was on my back. "Run!"

  "What about Daphne?"

  "They're not after her."

  I stole Babs from my dad's grasp. Her big hazel eyes were wide and dark with fear. Oh, yeah, she could hear them! She was scared. "Goodnight!" I shouted to the room in general. We hurtled through the living room and I could hear my family calling goodnight behind us. The door opened in the kitchen and a green mist oozed into the room. Daphne coughed on it, but Hobs was right. It wasn't after her. It sped after us. "How do we stop them?" I cried.

  "Are you kidding? They're immortal! They're cursed never to die!"

  How did you fight something that couldn't die, whose very touch was death? I chanced a look behind us to see flaming red eyes stare at us through the dark mist filling the air. The grandfather clock began its first strike to nine. Hobs dragged us behind it just as we spied five not-quite women searching us out with jerky movements. At this close range, I could see they couldn't stop crying. That's why their eyes were so red. If they were so sad about taking us, then they should go back to where they came from.

  Their maws gaped open at an unnatural angle, and they chanted through it—their tongues slithering around their teeth. I couldn't make the words out, but I could definitely hear them. It sounded like a death rattle. They ducked around the living room furniture, their bodies cutting in and out of the air, howling as they went.

  "Get as much distance between us as possible," Hobs shouted. One of them reached out for me. I shrieked, feeling the cold emanating from the gray, decaying finger. Before it could get to me, Hobs knocked a candlestick against it. The silver warped at the Banshee's touch and bent to the ground like melted wax.

  "Lost, lost, lost," it sobbed. At such close proximity, I could hear the words, but they didn't make sense.

  "Our treasures, our queen, the child.

  All lost!"

  Hobs picked up a picture of me from the mantle and got ready to smash the Banshee's face with it. The creature stilled to stare at it. "You like this?" Hobs held up a staying hand at me to keep me back, then advanced on it, holding the picture up like a shield. "Does she look familiar?"

  "Honey? What are you doing?" My lovely mother sat in front of the TV in her workout clothes, calmly eating popcorn. I scrambled further back before she could see me hiding behind her grandfather clock. I didn't want to be thrown into a mental institution. Actually, I might prefer that than to this being real.

  "Honey?" a Banshee breathed, mocking my mom's voice from behind the couch where she sat. I saw the rusting crown resting over hair that once was beautiful; she was their leader. "Stay . . . stay still. Don't be scared . . . honey." Her voice deepened into a vicious growl.

  "Thief. Thief. Thief.

  The rule of Ratis defiled.

  For a thief."

  The others chanted the words in a drumming rhythm as the Banshee queen floated over my mother's head and past the fireplace. Her fingers scraped past the walls in dead silence—like they weren't r
eally there. The grandfather clock stopped ringing. The face on it cracked as she passed. Tears streamed down her mottled face. My heart lurched—the Banshee queen had killed my mom's favorite clock. I was dead in more ways than one.

  My hands tightened over Babs, and I ducked, throwing three heavy knickknacks at the queen at once. They hit her hard, and the two approaching creatures behind her as well—as if I had a lot more strength than I had.

  "Halley Victoria Starr!" my mom shouted from the couch. "What are you doing?"

  "Nothing, they're just falling! I've got them. Don't worry!" The star on my tiara glowed brighter. I swiveled away from the Banshees, breathing hard. Nothing about this felt natural.

  "Mourn, mourn, mourn.

  Star shall rule the sun and moon

  'ere morn."

  What were they saying? Their words and crackling voices messed with my ears. "Don't listen to that." Hobs backed into me. The creature watching my framed picture in Hobs' hand twisted its head around with a startled jerk. Seeing my face brought it out of its trance. It let out a piercing scream.

  I shoved past Hobs, my fingers joining his over the picture frame. I planted it into the Banshee's face and put a temporary end to its tears. The Banshee fell back, clawing at the frame wrapped around its head. My sudden strength scared me. "Why do I know how to fight?"

  Hobs swiveled to stare at me. "It's just a side effect of the curse. It's a good thing." He wrapped an arm around me, sandwiching Babs safely between us. A sobbing scream above us alerted us to the Banshee queen crawling over my family's ceiling. Our heads shot up and we watched her detach herself from the molding, her ragged hair growing longer. Her tears dripped over us as she descended on us like a spider.

  "Pain, pain, pain

  Keeper, Warrior, Healer of wounds

  Shatter our pain."

  We both went tripping over my mother's famed fern. Hobs knocked it between us and the Banshees. It wilted in front of us. My mom's head tilted at the sight, and for a brief moment she looked confused and then a little . . . angry.

  "Um, sorry."

  We crawled backwards away from the narrowed eyes of three more Banshees. They snaked forward, their straggly hair dragging against the floor. The wood splintered beneath them. Vases and portraits from the mantle flew around me, crashing against the living room floor. I tried to cover Babs from it, and the knickknacks hit me hard in the back.

  "Lost, lost, lost

  Our treasures, our queen, the child

  All lost.

  Thief. Thief. Thief.

  The rule of Ratis defiled.

  For a thief."

  "Halley?" My mom had set her popcorn aside. "What is going on?" One of her gaudy crafts pitched off the wall and tossed through the air. I ducked as it came crashing down on me. "How are you doing that?" There was a note of worry in her voice.

  "I'm not!" I cried.

  "Are we having an earthquake?" She stood up and put her hand on the wall—inches from a Banshee who was plastered against it. The whole house shook now. My mom turned to my dad the moment he rushed into the room, which was alive with paranormal power. The windows cracked. "Everyone stand under a doorway." My dad beckoned to the twins and they stood on either side of him.

  Hobs' hands went under my armpits and he dragged me to my feet. Babs was still wrapped around my neck like a monkey. I held tightly to her. We ran past the staircase and down the hall, where he shoved us into my room. He slammed the door behind us, muffling the chanting from the Banshees. I could hear their hateful words out in the hall as they came closer.

  "Mourn, mourn, mourn.

  Star shall rule the sun and moon

  'ere morn.

  Pain, pain, pain

  Keeper, Warrior, Healer of wounds

  Shatter our pain."

  The clatter woke my shadow from her catnap, and she sat up on my bed, her formerly-perfect hair askew. Oh sure, she could sleep!

  "Get away from the door!" Hobs warned. I turned to see it ripping from its hinges. Misty fingers traveled through the cracks. "Start singing!" His voice cracked. "Keep it bad!" I ran for my radio, singing at the top of my lungs. Maybe I could give the Banshees something better than my insubstantial voice. I clicked the radio onto our only rock station. "Yes, good, good," Hobs said. "Find the worst song you can!"

  "We don't have that many stations here!" I argued.

  "Find one about a truck or a dog or something! Something country. Faster!"

  I traveled furiously through the channels, found a song about a star crossed-lover, and turned it up loud. The Banshees tried to out-wail it with their chants, and I pumped the volume up all the way, trying not to snap the knob off in my panic. The Banshees pounded against the door, but I could tell they were losing their strength in the face of the competition. Babs' lower lip jutted out. I stroked her soft bangs away from her face, trying to comfort her. I covered her ears. "Is this why faeries love music?" I shouted. "It keeps the Banshees away?"

  "Banshees are faeries!" Hobs shouted through the din.

  "They don't look like faeries!"

  "They're cursed to roam the earth. They were naughty. They were the maidservants of Queen Ratis when the treasures were lost."

  I put my fingers to my lips with a shrill shriek. "Don't say her name!"

  He gave me an impatient look. "Ratis is not the hag! Don't worry. She was the keeper of the treasures. And besides, it's what we call her—nobody knows her real name. Even if I knew it, I would never . . ." The door warped in front of us, and I yelped, dragging Babs toward the bathroom. "Oh, no you don't . . ." Hobs tugged us both back. "Don't let them corner you. They tear down walls—you can't."

  "Why aren't they tearing down this wall then?"

  "Would you want to be in here?" he cried. Well, no! Hobs breathed in deeply, pacing the room around us. It looked like he was thinking hard, and I knew he wasn't being completely honest with me. There was another reason he didn't want me near the bathroom, and I was pretty sure it had something to do with the mirror and what waited for me in there. "It won't be long before they get in here." His eyes searched mine like he wanted to tell me something, but he was torn. "The Banshees don't even know who they're fighting. She just sent them after us without an explanation. We've got to get them quiet enough to talk some sense into them. Turn the radio down."

  "No!"

  The door to the bathroom rattled, and I pulled away from it, seeing the windows shake as something hard pounded against them. My legs went weak. This was what Hobs had saved us from. "What's in the bathroom? More Banshees?"

  Hobs paled, but he shook his head. The pressure from the air was building, and he pulled us to the middle of the room. We were surrounded. The bathroom door ripped open like cardboard, and the most grotesque thing I had ever seen pulled through the jagged edges of wood. It was a hideous monster. Its paper-white skin stretched over a pointy face. The eyes were crossed, probably because its nose was so bulbous it couldn't see past it. It was short and stocky . . . and must I go on? The unfortunate thing had absolutely no redeeming features at all. I shrieked and scrambled back, using Hobs' body as a shield; he laughed a little.

  Babs reached out for the monster. "Dadda."

  Hobs wrinkled his nose. "Uh no, that's not your dadda, honey. That's Bugul. Try not to look at him directly or you'll go mad."

  The goblin thing gave a disgusted snort. It wore a leather vest laced up on the sides, and tattered black pants. The monster was made of pure muscle. Its forearms and calves were covered in armor. It stalked up to Hobs, poking him hard in the ribs. I screamed. "Where are they?" the creature yelled.

  Hobs and I exchanged glances. It was a lot easier than looking at this Bugul guy. To be honest, it actually gave me a headache. "They're over there." Hobs motioned hurriedly to the door. The goblin left us, bumbling for it. "Um, Bugul, you know they can't die, right?" Hobs tried to warn him, but the goblin had himself and apparently everybody else well in hand. He tore the bedroom door down with his bare ha
nds, just like he had the bathroom door.

  "Lost, lost . . ." The Banshees stepped back, choking on a sob.

  They were as startled as I had been at seeing him. He chucked what remained of my door against the wall, leaving an ugly dent. "What are you doing here?" The Banshees didn't move. The radio still kept them back. Bugul turned with an oath and smashed my radio flat. The Banshees stared at him in the awkward silence. A few sniffed. "No one gave you permission to be here!"

  I had to avert my eyes from the creature. Hobs, on the other hand, was fascinated. "Clever. Fight death with death. Why didn't I think of that?" It wasn't very polite, but yeah, this Bugul guy pretty much looked like death. A slight smile played over Hobs' lips. "Not so easy on the eyes, maybe, but he makes for a great distraction." He watched me with a considering look. "Hold Babs close to you."

  He didn't need to tell me—I already was. The Banshees turned to me, and I wasn't sure our ugly new ally could keep them back for long, especially with their hollowed-eyed looks. "Lost," the queen muttered under her breath.

  Hobs pointed at me. "Well, you found her. Maybe you should look a little closer at her before you decide to kill her, Cyhiraeth."

  "Hobs?" I asked.

  His eyes drew to mine, but I wasn't getting whatever he was trying to communicate to me. He brought his attention back to the Banshees, stepping away from me with his hands out to show he was harmless. "She wears the diadem of the keeper. Do you see that, Cyhiraeth? Look on your princess. She's the one who leads you."

  The Banshees stared at me, and then with a shriek, turned to Babs. The baby was more interested in playing with my earrings. Their bloodshot eyes narrowed at her, and I buried her face into my shoulder. I didn't want them to look at her like that, and I glared at them to prove it. To my surprise, they bowed their heads. "It is she." One by one they dropped to their knees, their ragged dresses tangled behind them. "Our liege. Undying loyalty."

  Their voices sounded dead. "Dying loyalty."

  "Loyalty," another echoed. "Star shall rule the sun and moon."

  My fingers dug into Babs. They were chanting that terrible poem again and watching Babs like she was their liege. "Leave us," I choked on the order.

  "Never leave . . . Keeper, Warrior, Healer of wounds."

  "Follow you . . . always." At that threat, the Banshees' crying voices faded as they melted from our sight.

  "Shatter our pain."

  It was the last thing I heard. I sagged in relief. Gathering Babs into a hug, I collapsed on the edge of my bed, staring at the broken door. The deep scratches from the Banshees' broken nails trailed down the walls from the hallway to the living room in a jagged line.

  "You lead them?" I asked Babs, but I patted her on the back to soften the accusation. I couldn't have her crying on me, especially in front of that thing . . . well, what was that thing anyway? This Bugul guy?

  Hobs clasped the top of the broken doorjamb, the veins sticking out from his forearms as he tried to straighten the frame. "What brings you here, Bugul?" The goblin rolled his eyes, not bothering to answer. "You don't know anything about a dog in the park, do you?" Hobs kept his voice calm with seemingly little effort. I was familiar with that tone. "Anyone send that after us?"

  The goblin grumbled, pacing the room in quick, jerky movements. "Everyone's after you! What do you think you're doing here, boy? Getting her killed you are! You weren't supposed to . . ."

  Hobs straightened, glancing hastily at me. "Wait, Bugul . . . friend. I thought you took a vow of silence."

  "Your friend?" Bugul howled. "You have a lot of nerve! Have you forgotten . . ." the rest of his words were lost in grunts.

  "Forgotten what? Your sacred tribute to the queen? Never." Hobs had the grace to color under Bugul's withering look. "Bugul's very devout in his faith, girls. The man recently took a vow of silence." Bugul waved his arms about in an angry blur, but nothing came out of his mouth. If I could read lips and if I knew the faery language, I was sure I'd see a string of curses. Hobs pulled from the door to pat him on the back, but that just started another round of furious grunts. "I missed you too. We'll talk about it later. Maybe in a few days. I'm pretty sure of it, actually."

  Bugul's eyes bulged in rage, and Babs cried out at the spectacle. Hey, it was almost enough to make me cry. The goblin noticed the crying toddler, and with a snort of impatience, tore away from us to pace the room.

  I tried to relax, but it was hard, knowing that my parents were about to see the remnants of my room. Uh yeah, and everything else had been a little stressful too, I guess.