And then I had it. Sploot Fah himself would be the loom!
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” I said. “Toozle, hold up your left arm.”
“Not Toozle now,” he said. But he did as I asked.
I turned to the other one. “Okay, you put your right hand here.”
He did as I instructed. When I was done, the creature stood facing itself, hands extended with thumbs pointing upward, each hand about six inches from the next.
“Spread your fingers,” I ordered.
He did as I said. Quickly I wrapped the silk around the leftmost little finger, ran it under all four little fingers, then over and around them again. Bringing the silk up I did the same for the next level of fingers, then the third, then the fourth. That done, I pulled the outermost hands apart to make the threads tight. “Keep your hands exactly where I just put them,” I ordered. “I need you to hold the silk straight and taut.”
They nodded solemnly, their eyes bright with fear and excitement.
I now had eight strands of warp thread—one above and one below each finger—running parallel to the floor. (It was only eight because I wasn’t using their thumbs, which pointed straight up.)
With the warp in place, I began to weave, moving the silk over and under the strands that stretched between their hands.
“Very clever, Jacob,” Mrs. McSweeney murmured. “Very clever indeed.”
I nodded but said nothing. The work was continuing to draw energy from me. My vision blurred. I was having a hard time staying on my feet.
I needed to weave three areas together—the stretch between first hand and second hand, the one from second hand to third, and finally the area between third hand and fourth. Each section was about six inches wide. As I finished the first, I murmured, “Maybe someone else should take over. I’m dizzy—not sure I can finish.”
“You have to!” cried Lily. The fierceness of her voice startled me. “I’ve got an idea. If I’m right, then it’s really important that you be the one to weave them together. It’s a puzzle, Jake, and I think I’ve solved it.”
I groaned. The world swam before me. I was pretty sure it wasn’t because Always October had started to fade again but because I was about to lose consciousness.
Even so, I wove on. As I completed the second of the stretches, both parts of Sploot Fah began to tremble.
“Something strange,” moaned one.
“Something scary!” cried the other.
“Keep weaving, Jake!” urged Lily. “Keep weaving!”
Staggering, barely able to stay on my feet, I started the final stretch. Sploot Fah was vibrating now, just as LD had done earlier. “Make him stop!” he cried in terror. “Make him stop!”
“Do not stop, Jacob!” commanded Lily. “Keep weaving, for the world’s sake, and for your own!”
On I wove, in, out, up, down, my life force still flowing out along Octavia’s magic silk.
I fell to my knees, but I kept weaving.
Sploot Fah moaned in terror, but I kept weaving.
I reached the end of the third stretch with only an inch of silk to spare. I knotted it to the topmost finger. As I did, a flash of blue filled the air.
Blackness seized me, and I collapsed.
39
(Lily)
RETURN
Sploot Fah was gone.
In his place stood Jacob’s father.
My grandfather looked at me in astonishment. “Did you know that was going to happen?”
I shook my head. “The most you could say is I hoped it might. I’ve been puzzling over Sploot Fah from the time we first met him. He always seemed oddly focused on Jacob. It made me think of a note I found in the papers in the tower room of Jacob’s house: ‘Mazrak says blood calls to blood.’ Jake’s dad was a spelunker, and a prankster. So, in his way, was Sploot Fah. Whether or not I was right about Sploot Fah being Jake’s dad, after what Mrs. McSweeney said about binding two things together, I was confident it would work to seal Jake’s repair job on the tapestry. Anything else was a bonus.”
Looking around, I saw that Always October had snapped back into focus. I also realized we were still surrounded by monsters … most of them creatures who had been fighting us not long before.
Jacob’s father was kneeling over Jacob. Slipping his arm around Jake’s shoulders, he cried. “Jacob! Jacob, are you all right?”
Jake groaned slightly but otherwise lay still.
I grabbed Mrs. McSweeney’s hand, my confidence evaporating. “Is he going to be all right?”
“I don’t know,” she murmured unhappily.
A wave of horror worse than anything I had experienced since we had entered Always October washed over me. Had I urged my best friend to do something that was going to cost him his life? Suddenly I remembered Octavia’s horrible prophecy, that someone had to die before we could return home. Was Jake’s life going to be the price for our return to Humana?
As tears blurred my eyes, I saw Luna trot over to the kneeling father, the unconscious son. Swatting Mr. Doolittle on the arm, she said, “Lay him flat on the floor.” When he didn’t immediately do as the cat had ordered, she hissed and said, “All right, just hold on and let him die if you prefer!”
Gently, Mr. Doolittle lowered Jacob to the floor.
The cat sniffed at Jacob’s neck, then up and down the length of his body.
“What’s she doing?” I asked.
“A cat scan,” said Mrs. McSweeney.
When Luna had finished, she looked at Mrs. McSweeney and said, “I can do it.”
The old woman nodded her approval.
Luna climbed onto Jacob’s chest, curled up, and began to purr.
A minute later she faded out of sight. As she did, Jacob moaned, blinked, and sat up. He looked around as if trying to bring the world back into focus—though, of course, he had already done exactly that. Then he saw who was beside him. “DAD!” he screamed, flinging his arms around his father.
The two of them knelt, clutching each other. It was too private to watch, so I looked away … which was how I happened to see Luna come trotting out of the darkness. The beautiful white cat drifted over to stand by my feet. I knelt to stroke her.
“What’s your name?” I whispered.
“Luna Marie Eleganza the Seventh,” she replied, a trifle bitterly.
“I thought so. I’m sorry you had to do that. But thank you for bringing Jacob back.”
She stretched, waving her tail. “I can’t say I was eager to use another life. But I figured if he could save the world, the least I could do was save him.”
My reply was interrupted by Mazrak’s voice booming through the cavern. “It would have worked. If you fools hadn’t interfered it would have worked!”
I looked around. While we had been tending to Jacob, Mazrak and most of his monsters had slipped away. Now his voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.
Keegel Farzym stretched out his enormous blue arms. “Mazrak, listen to reason. You must have understood what was happening. Always October was being destroyed by what you were doing!”
“Sometimes you have to destroy something in order to create something better,” replied Mazrak, his words as slow and distinct as the chiming of the Clock of Separation. “You believe the world was dying. I think it was being reborn. Birth is never easy, Grandfather … just ask any mother!”
Teelamun, holding Little Dumpling in her arms, stepped up beside Keegel Farzym. Tears streaming down her beautiful face, she called, “This is your mother, Mazrak. I know full well that birth is not easy, know it better than most. Now I, who bore you, I, who nursed you, beg you to let go of this idea of unraveling the Woven Worlds. To prove yourself right, you would risk the existence of us all. Come back, son. Come back. Your mother is waiting for you.”
Her plea was greeted by silence.
I looked around. Only half a dozen of the monsters who had been working with Mazrak remained nearby. As I was wondering if we would have to fight them
, the biggest of the lot—a four-armed green creature with squirming tentacles for hair—knelt in front of Keegel Farzym. Seeming to speak for all the monsters who had remained, he said, “Forgive us, High Poet. We realize now that our quest to separate the Woven Worlds was folly.”
“Folly comes naturally to man and monster alike,” said Keegel Farzym, his deep voice surprisingly gentle. “No one knows that better than a Poet. Rise.”
The green monster stood.
“Do you know where Mazrak has gone?” asked the High Poet.
The green monster shook his head, making his tentacles sway disturbingly. “We can take you to where we last had our headquarters, but I doubt he will return there. More likely he, and those who departed with him, will resume their quest in some new den.”
Keegel Farzym sighed. Turning to us humans, he said, “I had hoped that with the restoration of the world, Dum Pling might be able to stay here. But with Mazrak still on the loose, it is best that the baby return with you to Humana after all.”
Jacob and his father were standing now. Jacob came and took the baby from Teelamun. The beautiful monster stroked my friend’s hair and murmured, “Take good care of my grandson, Jacob.”
Jake nodded solemnly. “I promise.”
His father came up behind him and put his hands on his shoulders. “As do I.”
Keegel Farzym cleared his throat. Teelamun reached out and put a slender hand on Mr. Doolittle’s cheek. “Oh, my dear boy,” she said. “Son of the man I loved. You may not return to Humana just yet.”
“What do you mean?” cried Jacob.
Looking at Mr. Doolittle, rather than Jacob, Teelamun said, “Mazrak lured you here, did he not? Lured you, then transformed you?”
Mr. Doolittle nodded. “I had been working with my father’s notes, trying to understand Always October. I think Mazrak had been doing the same regarding Humana, probably as part of his research on how to disconnect the worlds. We ended up making contact with each other. He lured me to a cave where there was a close connection between the worlds, and he pulled me through. What happened after I got here is … fuzzy. But it was definitely Mazrak who brought me here.”
“Brought you, and transformed you,” said Teelamun. She sighed. “I know the nature of the spell your half-brother used. It’s a catch spell, and one nasty aspect of it is that if you ever did manage to return to human form, you would have to remain in Always October for a full year before returning to Humana. If you try to return before that year is up, the transformation spell will reactivate.”
“You mean if Dad comes home with us, he’ll turn back into Sploot Fah?” cried Jake.
Teelamun nodded.
I saw tears spill down Mr. Doolittle’s face.
Jacob was crying too.
His father took LD from him and returned the baby to Teelamun. Then he knelt so that he was facing Jake. “Listen, son,” he said, holding his shoulders. “Now you know something important: I did not die in that cave and I did not abandon you and your mother. I had no idea, when Mazrak lured me to this side of the Tapestry, what he had in mind. From the moment he turned me into Sploot Fah, I had no memory of my previous life, though seeing you stirred things within me. That was one reason I stuck with you through the journey—I knew we were connected somehow. I will come back, son! Just not …” He sighed. “… not as soon as I would have hoped.”
“If the gateway is ready, we need to get going,” said Mrs. McSweeney gently. “I’m not sure how much time we have before Jacob’s mother returns, and it would be better by far if we were there when she does.”
Jake’s father nodded.
“What do you want me to tell Mom?” asked Jake.
Mr. Doolittle thought, then said, “Don’t tell her anything just yet.” He turned to Mrs. McSweeney. “Eloise, that cat of yours can go back and forth anytime she wants, right?”
Mrs. McSweeney nodded.
“Can she carry a letter?”
“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
Jacob’s father smiled. “Right.” Turning to Luna, he asked the same question.
She stretched out a white paw, licked it lazily, then said, “I suppose I could … if properly rewarded.” Looking up at Mrs. McSweeney, she said, “That would, of course, mean more fish than I’ve been getting lately.”
“I’m sure that can be arranged,” said Mrs. McSweeney.
“All right,” sighed the cat. “I’ll be your postal service.”
“Thank you,” said Mr. Doolittle. Turning back to Jacob, he said, “I’ll start writing to your mom, son, trying to pave the way for my return.” He shook his head. “I’m going to have to cook up one heck of a story! I’m not sure she’d want to see me right now even if I could come back.” He hugged Jacob close. “Take care of your mom, son. Take care of the baby. I’ll be home as soon as I can. I promise.”
Jacob only nodded. I could tell he couldn’t speak.
He took Little Dumpling from Teelamun’s arms and snuggled the baby close.
An hour later, we walked out of the mausoleum, back into our own world.
EPILOGUE ONE
(Jacob)
So, that’s it. We’ve written down the entire story up to this moment. Tonight I will put on the bracelet, and when the full moon rises—well, I’ll get my first taste of becoming a monster.
I wonder if it’s going to hurt. I really should have asked my father when I had the chance, but there were a lot of other things on my mind just then. It didn’t seem to bother LD that much, scared him more than anything. On the other hand, he was turning back to his original shape. Whatever I turn into is going to be all new. Might be something terrible, like my half-uncle Mazrak. Might just be something spooky and a bit goofy, like … well, like the monster version of my father.
I’m scared, but also interested to find out. In a while I’ll head for Mrs. McSweeney’s. She told mom she needed my help with cleaning out the chicken coop. She also told me that’s not a lie. She does need help, and she expects me to provide it.
This does not fill me with delight. Chicken poop stinks like crazy, and since the darn birds don’t use litter boxes, it’s all over the place. But given what she’s doing to help me, I guess I can’t complain.
Gnarly and Lily will be there, too. Naturally, Lily’s all excited about what’s going to happen.
“You’ll get to be a monster!” she said to me this morning. “How cool is that?”
“Yeah, I’ll get to be chained up, or locked in a room, or whatever your grandfather and Mrs. McSweeney have worked out to keep me from rampaging around the countryside if I happen to turn into the bad kind. Should be a laugh riot.”
“Oh, Jacob, where’s your spirit of adventure?”
“I keep it in the closet, right next to my sense of humor. At least I used to. Now that I know monsters can come through my closet, I’ve moved it to my desk drawer.”
However Lily is right. Whatever happens tonight is going to be an adventure.
I’m terrified, which seems perfectly reasonable.
But to tell the truth, I’m also looking forward to it.
Heck, almost every kid gets called a “little monster” at some point or another.
How many of us actually get a chance to be one?
EPILOGUE TWO
(Lily)
I’m sitting at a desk in Mrs. McSweeney’s house. Jacob is in the Monster Containment Chamber … the special room we prepared for him.
The moon is about to rise.
I can’t wait to see what Jacob is going to turn into! Thank goodness we installed that little window in the door of the chamber. That way we can look in to see what’s happening. I’ve got the video camera too, so after Jacob turns back into himself, we can show him what happened.
Time is short, so here’s the last note I’ll make for now: I haven’t told Jake this yet, but next month I’m hoping to talk him into letting me take his place when the big night comes. That would still work to protect the baby, and I reall
y, really want to find out what it’s like to turn into a monster.
Wouldn’t that just be cooler than Frankenstein’s pink pajamas?
Uh-oh. Jake’s starting to howl.
Mrs. McSweeney just yelled for me to bring the camera.
Gotta go—it’s monster time!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Bruce Coville grew up around the corner from his grandparents’ dairy farm, where he spent a great deal of time dodging cows (and chores) and reading voraciously. He has been a toy maker, a gravedigger, a cookware salesman, an assembly-line worker, a magazine editor, and an elementary school teacher. Bruce’s books have appeared in more than a dozen countries and have sold more than sixteen million copies. Among his most popular titles are My Teacher Is an Alien, Into the Land of Unicorns, and Jeremy Thatcher, Dragon Hatcher. He is also the founder of Full Cast Audio, an award-winning audiobook company specializing in family listening. (www.fullcastaudio.com).
October is Bruce’s favorite month, so he is especially delighted that Always October is his 100th book. He lives in Syracuse, New York, and you can visit him on the web at www.brucecoville.com.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors and artists.
CREDITS
Cover art © 2012 by Andrea Femerstrand
COPYRIGHT
Always October
Text copyright © 2012 by Bruce Coville
Title page art © 2012 by Andrea Femerstrand
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Always October Page 22