by Dean Lorey
“Name’s Rex,” the cowboy said as he snatched Mr. Benjamin’s hand and shook it firmly. “Nice to meet you. I’m a Wrangler.”
“The proper term is Banisher,” Pinch sniffed.
“Proper, but fruity. I’ll stick with Wrangler. This here’s Tabitha.” He gestured to the woman. “She’s a Portal Jockey.”
“We prefer to be called Nethermancers.”
“As you can see, she’s got a terrific crush on me.”
“I do not!”
“Oh, really?” Rex replied with a grin. “How’s the weather over there in Denial City? Hot and bothered?”
“You’re unbelievable,” Tabitha said, shaking her head.
“I kind of am, aren’t I?” Rex replied.
“Just ignore them,” Pinch said, turning to Mr. Benjamin. “My name is Edward Pinch. I am what we call the ‘Facilitator’ of the group, and I am the responsible party.”
“Responsible for what?” Rex asked.
“For saving your life,” Pinch shot back.
“Ah, you didn’t save my life. I was about to tell Mr. Benjamin here to go and get a bag of flour. You just beat me to it.”
“Your arrogance is astonishing,” Pinch said. “I’m not looking for you to do a back flip in my honor—a simple thank-you will be sufficient.”
“All right, then,” Rex said. “Thank you, Pinch, for fixing what the princess screwed up.”
“What I screwed up?” Tabitha shot back.
“That’s right,” Rex replied, turning to her. “You opened that portal all the way into the 5th ring, didn’t you?”
“Of course,” she said, “because we were banishing a class-5 Silvertongue. Class 5’s are supposed to be returned to the 5th ring of the Nether—that’s where they live.”
“Yeah, and you know what else lives on the 5th ring? Other class 5’s, like that Netherbat that wanted to snack on my head.”
“Tabitha was entirely correct in doing what she did,” Pinch said, coming quickly to her defense. “The Nightmare Division’s Guide to the Nether is quite clear on the matter—rules are, after all, rules!”
“Well, you know how much I love rules, Pinch,” Rex said. “Without ’em, I’d have nothing to break.”
“I’ve had enough of this,” Mr. Benjamin said. “Can any of you give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call the police?”
“I’ll give you one,” Tabitha replied, turning to him. “Your son, Charlie, is as strong with the Gift as I’ve ever seen. But if he doesn’t learn to control it…he’ll kill you all.”
CHAPTER THREE
THE SMELL OF CINNAMON
“They claim to know what’s been going on with Charlie,” Barrington said to Olga in the living room several minutes later, after everyone had cleaned up. “I think we should listen to them.”
“So do I,” Charlie agreed, sitting on the couch next to her.
Olga just shrugged.
“Look, I know this isn’t the first time something like this has happened around here,” Tabitha said, perched on the floral-print armchair next to the couch. “You’ve been looking for answers. We can give them to you.”
“Absolutely,” Rex agreed, cracking his knuckles. Tabitha winced. “Here’s the thing: All kids dream, right? Sometimes you get good dreams and sometimes you get nightmares. But nightmares aren’t just in your head—they have a purpose. They’re like a doorway that opens into boogey-boogey land.”
“The correct term is the Netherworld,” Pinch corrected.
“And in this boogey-boogey land,” Rex continued, glaring at him, “are tons of nasty little critters that want to come through that doorway and into our world.”
“Why?” Charlie asked.
“They like to cause problems,” Rex replied. “Most of ’em are just a nuisance. They bang around in old houses, scare old ladies, that kinda thing.”
“Ghosts!” Charlie said.
“Yeah, that’s one type. You don’t have to worry about them too much—they’re basically harmless. But some of ’em, Charlie…some of ’em are deadly. Like those Class 5’s we just spanked.”
“So, you’re saying these ‘things’ come into our world all the time?” Mr. Benjamin asked in disbelief.
“That’s right,” Tabitha answered. “But they need kids to do it. Kids with what we call ‘the Gift.’”
“You’re either born with it or you’re not,” Rex said with a shrug.
“The Gift is fueled by imagination,” Tabitha continued, “which, by adulthood, has usually become a sad and crippled thing. The stronger the Gift, the larger and more powerful the portal that can be created and the more dangerous the creature that can come through.” She smiled reassuringly at Charlie. “Your son…he’s unusually strong.”
“Absolutely,” Pinch agreed. “It’s been decades since a child was powerful enough to portal in a Class 5. I’ve had my eye on him for some time, actually—ever since the Naptime Catastrophe.”
“You heard about that?” Charlie gasped.
“Of course I did. I wouldn’t be good at my job if I didn’t keep tabs on such things, now would I? But it wasn’t until the recent newspaper article that I knew we had to act quickly.”
“Newspaper article? You mean, ‘Terror at the Sleepover Apocalypse’?” Barrington asked.
Pinch nodded. “It was clear from the story that your son had portaled through a fairly sizable Netherstalker—at least a Class 3.”
“What’s a Netherstalker?” Charlie asked.
“It looks something like a giant spider,” Tabitha replied.
“See!” Charlie yelled triumphantly, turning to his parents. “Told you.”
“I knew immediately that we needed to get to your boy,” Pinch continued, “to prevent him from being a danger to himself or others. As you can see from the events of this evening, it’s lucky that we did.”
Barrington shook his head in amazement. “So, all this time we thought Charlie was going on a rampage during his nightmares, he was actually allowing monsters into our world and they were the ones causing the destruction?”
“That’s right,” Pinch replied.
“Utterly amazing,” Barrington said, and turned to Olga. “Don’t you agree, dear?”
She shrugged, seemingly uninterested.
Rex stared at her curiously. “I notice you haven’t said a word, Mrs. Benjamin. You mind if I ask, were you baking cinnamon buns today?”
“No,” she said.
“Cinnamon cookies, cinnamon rolls, cinnamon toast? Anything with cinnamon in it?”
“Not that I recall,” she said.
“Did you eat anything with cinnamon? Or maybe one of your friends did?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I thought not,” Rex continued, then suddenly leaped across the coffee table and grabbed her by the throat. “What have you done with Charlie’s mom, you disgusting thing?”
Mr. Benjamin stared in shock as Rex throttled his wife. “What on earth…” He gasped. “Inappropriate! Inappropriate!”
“Let go of my mother!” Charlie shouted, leaping across the coffee table. He grabbed Rex and tried to pull his hands from his mother’s throat.
“This ain’t your mother, kid,” Rex said. “You smell that? Cinnamon. All Mimics reek of it.”
“Let her go this instant,” Pinch demanded. “Many people smell of cinnamon who are not creatures from the Netherworld!”
“Maybe so, but this one is, and I’ll prove it to you,” Rex said, and dragged Mrs. Benjamin from the couch as her husband squealed in disapproval.
“That is my wife you are dragging by the neck, sir! I will not stand for this! Stop immediately!”
But Rex ignored him as he carried Mrs. Benjamin toward the downstairs bathroom. She bit and clawed wildly at his face, particularly when he flung open the shower door and roughly threw her in.
“What are you doing?” Charlie yelled.
“You’ll see.”
“Don’t let him hurt Mommy!” Olga
pleaded. “Help Mommy. Mommy always protected you!”
“Knock it off, Mimic,” Rex snapped, and turned on the shower.
As soon as the water hit Olga, she shrieked with an inhuman wail and scrabbled frantically at the glass of the shower door. Her skin began to bubble and blacken; then it peeled off in large strips, liquefying before running down the drain. When it was all over, the thing that had been impersonating Mrs. Benjamin writhed sluglike around the shower floor. It was pink and doughy, with two large eyes, no legs, and two extremely long and powerful arms.
Mr. Benjamin and Charlie stared in shock.
“Feast your eyes on a Class-4 Mimic,” Rex said with a slight “I told you so” swagger. “You can tell it’s a 4 by the number of fingers on each hand. The more fingers it has, the more powerful it is.”
“Quite right,” Pinch chimed in. “A Class 1, for instance, is only strong enough to subdue and mimic something the size of an infant, but it would take a full-fledged Class 5 to turn a grown man like you into its prey.”
“Its prey…,” Mr. Benjamin said with growing anxiety.
“Yes, but don’t worry,” Tabitha said, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. “For a Mimic to maintain a disguise, its victim has to be close by and alive. Your wife is fine. It probably snatched her out of bed when it came through during one of Charlie’s latest nightmares and hid her somewhere in the house before taking her shape.”
“The attic,” Charlie said. “I heard scratching around up there last night. I thought squirrels.”
Tabitha turned to Rex. “You go get her. I’ll get rid of this.” She gestured to the Mimic, which struggled in vain to reach above the shower doors with its long, powerful fingers.
“No offense, sweetheart,” Rex replied, “but you’re just a Portal Jockey. Why don’t I stay and give you a hand?”
“The day I need help disposing of a common Mimic is the day I say I love you.”
“Meaning?”
“Never,” she said, and waved him good-bye.
The attic was dark and smelled like old newspapers and wet mattresses. Mr. Benjamin climbed the ladder first, followed by Charlie.
“Mom?” Charlie shouted.
“My dear? Are you up here?”
As they searched, Pinch pulled Rex aside. “You will never again pull a stunt like that. What if you had been wrong about the Mimic?”
“I wasn’t,” Rex replied.
“But if you had been and you ended up hurting that woman, the ND could have been compromised.”
“It wasn’t.”
Pinch rolled his eyes. “Decisions that affect the operational integrity of the Nightmare Division are solely my domain. I interpret the rules. I make the call. You carry it out. Simple as that.”
“No, it’s not that simple,” Rex said, leaning in. “My gut told me something was wrong with that woman and I gotta trust it. You wouldn’t understand what that’s like. You don’t have the Gift. At least not anymore.”
Pinch recoiled as if stung.
“Sorry, Pinch,” Rex continued. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that I gotta act on what I think is right.”
“So do I,” Pinch said. “And if you ever again make a decision without my approval, I will recommend to the Council that you be placed on probation.”
“I’m sure you will.”
“Hey, everyone! Get over here!” Charlie yelled. “We found her—she’s in the spaceship!”
Olga Benjamin had spent the last two days stuffed into an old, forgotten refrigerator box that Charlie and his father had painted to look like a spaceship. Her hands and feet were bound with strapping tape and her mouth was gagged with a dirty dust rag.
“My poor dear…,” Mr. Benjamin said as he tore off the tape and removed the gag from her mouth. “Are you all right?”
“I thought I was dead,” Olga said, her voice raspy from disuse. “There was a creature…a hideous thing with long, terrible fingers…. It abducted me…. It put me in the spaceship….”
“We know all about it, Mom,” Charlie said. “It was disgusting! But it’s gone now—Rex and Tabitha got rid of it.”
“Rex and who?” Olga croaked.
“There’s a great deal of information you need to be made aware of,” Mr. Benjamin replied, helping her to her feet. “Let’s get you a cup of tea to calm your nerves.”
The tea (and the whiskey mixed into it) did help calm Olga’s nerves. As she sipped her third cup, she listened carefully as Rex spun a story of Portal Jockeys (“Nethermancers,” Tabitha gently corrected him), Banishers, Class-5 Silvertongues in full voice, the smell of cinnamon, and how water exposes a Mimic.
“But why on earth would it want to mimic me?” Olga asked.
“Sweat, ma’am,” Rex replied. “Your garden-variety Mimic loves sweat. In fact, they need it to survive. They’ll take it from animals if they can’t get it from humans, but in order to lap it up, they have to disguise themselves as something with a mouth—they don’t have one of their own, you see.”
“Er, exactly whose sweat was the Mimic drinking?” Mr. Benjamin asked with some alarm.
“Yours probably,” Rex replied with a grin. “While you were sleeping, most likely. There’s nothing a Mimic likes more than to lick the sweat off a fella while he’s catching forty winks.”
“I see,” Mr. Benjamin said, blood draining from his face.
“So, what do we do now?” Olga asked.
“Now,” Pinch replied, eyes bright with excitement, “we need to take the boy for a hearing at the High Council of the Nightmare Division.”
“The what?” Mr. Benjamin asked.
“I’m glad you don’t know!” Pinch snapped. “You see, the Nightmare Division is an incredibly secret organization, charged with controlling the Nethercreature population. As you can imagine, with all the nightmares in the world, there are a vast array of Nethercreatures that must be accounted for and disposed of.”
“Yes, yes, but what do they want with Charlie?” Mr. Benjamin pressed.
Pinch seemed aghast that the answer wasn’t completely obvious. “Anyone with the unusual strength to portal a Class 4 or greater Nethercreature must be brought before the Council to be identified, processed, and evaluated. It is quite mandatory. The rules are very specific.”
“Is this true?” Olga asked, turning to Tabitha.
“I’m afraid it is,” she answered. “But don’t worry. I would do anything it took to protect Charlie.”
“And what exactly would he would need to be protected from?” Olga pressed. “What might they choose to do with him, I mean?”
“Oh, that just depends,” Pinch said with obvious relish. “They may decide the boy is trainable and place him in the Nightmare Academy. In a few years, he will graduate and, like us, spend his life ridding the world of Nethercreatures. Very honorable.”
“Yeah, a dream come true,” Rex said wryly.
“And if they decide he is not trainable?” Mr. Benjamin prompted.
“Well, you can’t very well let a child with the ability to portal a Class 5 just run around bringing monsters into our world hither and dither,” Pinch replied. “I mean, can you imagine what would have happened if we had not been there to banish the Silvertongue? Can you even fathom what would occur if he was strong enough to portal in a Named?” Pinch said the word Named with an involuntarily shudder, and Charlie wondered what kind of creature could be so horrible that it frightened Pinch even more than the terrifying monsters they had already faced. “No,” Pinch continued with a nervous laugh, “if the Council decided he was not trainable, then Charlie would need to be…Reduced.”
“‘Reduced’?” Olga asked.
“Yes. Reduction is a process by which our top surgeons, quite painlessly and through the most cutting edge of techniques, reduce the amount of creative thought the boy is capable of, thereby reducing his ability to portal anything above, say, a Class 2.”
“I see,” said Mr. Benjamin. “You will surgically make the
boy stupid.”
“Not at all, not stupid, no, sir,” Pinch countered. “Your boy has an extraordinary number of IQ points. We would just shave off a few.”
“‘Shave off a few’?” Mr. Benjamin repeated.
“Absolutely. He’s got so many, he would hardly miss them.”
“I see,” said Mr. Benjamin, turning to his wife. “Thoughts?”
“I think if they try to take Charlie,” she said sweetly, “I will personally rip off their heads and plant flowers in their throats.”
“Well put,” Mr. Benjamin replied.
Charlie leaped up. “Don’t I have a say in any of this? It’s about me, after all.”
“Son, you can’t possibly want to go with these people,” Mr. Benjamin protested. “In the best of worlds, you will be taken from us and turned into some kind of monster hunter and, in the worst, you will be made stupid.”
“Just average,” Pinch countered.
“Even worse!” Mr. Benjamin snapped. “You cannot have him.”
“But I want to go,” Charlie said. “This is the first time I’ve ever understood why these things were happening to me. I want to learn more. I want to do what they do.”
“Out of the question,” Mr. Benjamin said.
“I’m sorry, Charlie, but our no is final,” Olga seconded.
“It’s beyond that now,” Pinch said, standing. “The rules are quite clear. We are to bring him before the council with or without your consent—by force, if necessary.”
Mr. Benjamin leaped to his feet. “It will have to be by force, then. If you think you’re stronger than my love for my son, I invite you to take your best shot, sir.” He rolled up his sleeves and flexed his scrawny arms.
Mrs. Benjamin turned to Tabitha and Rex. “You’re good people,” she pleaded. “Do something.”
“Much as I hate to say it, ma’am,” Rex said, “Pinch is right. Because of Charlie, you spent the last few days tied up in a cardboard box—and that’s just from a stupid Mimic. If another Class 5 comes through or, worse, a Named…it’s all over—for you and your husband and for Charlie, too. If you want to protect him, you gotta let him come with us. Only once before have I seen someone this strong with the Gift.”