Suitcase of Stars

by Pierdomenico Baccalario

  “Calm down!” I said, moving toward him with my hands up.

  He must be the notorious Dutchman from the McStay Inn, I realized.

  “My name is Finley McPhee,” I said. “What can I do to resolve this situation?”

  I couldn’t believe how calm I was acting. Perhaps I thought that Aiby was somewhere nearby just waiting for an opportunity to help us. Or maybe I was just worn out from the last few days. Either way, at that moment, I realized one thing: once I graduated from school, I would move far, far away from the supposedly sleepy village of Applecross.

  When I was about five steps from the Dutchman, he shoved Meb out of the way and pointed his knife at the bottle in my hand.

  “This?” I asked him. “You want this? Then please take it!”

  I threw it to the ground so that it would roll away from Meb. The Dutchman hopped over and stopped it with his boot. He picked it up, raised the bottle to the fading light, and realized it was empty.

  The Dutchman started to scream at me again in his strange language. I held out the note that we found inside the bottle, hoping it would calm him down. The Dutchman tore it out of my hand, read it quickly, and then began to growl a series of horrible, guttural noises. That’s not Dutch, I realized. This man is a raving lunatic.

  The man motioned for both of us to walk toward Meb’s car. I could hear the blade of the knife slice through the air as he jerked it toward the vehicle.

  “Finley,” Meb whispered from behind me. “Do you know this psycho?”

  “Not really,” I said. “But he seems pretty feral.”

  “Maybe your friend knows him,” she whispered. “Where did she go, by the way?”

  “Who knows,” I said sourly.

  The man growled and gestured for us to get in the car.

  “Where are we going?” Meb asked. He stared at her blankly. Slowly, Meb said, “Where. We. Go?”

  The Dutchman pointed to the hills. I immediately knew that he intended to take us to the Lily castle. I got this strange feeling that the disjointed language he spoke was the same language that was painted on the walls of the house. Don’t ask me why, but at the time it all made sense.

  Getting into the car turned out to be a difficult process. The car was small and only had two doors. He gestured for Meb to sit in the driver’s seat. Then he made me climb into the back while he held the knife to my neck. Then he climbed in, too.

  Before closing the door I yelled, “Patches, go home!” My dog tilted his head in a doubtful expression.

  “Patches, get out of here!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. “Go. Home. Now!”

  Patches took off running down the path.

  Good dog, I thought. I hoped he would go back to the farm and get help, but judging by the way he was running with his tail between his legs, he was probably just scared.

  Meb started the engine. A strange beeping sound filled the car. The Dutchman’s knife tightened against my neck. I calmly used my hands to explain that he needed to put on his seat belt, but he refused to buckle.

  The beeping continued all the way to Lily castle. When we arrived, the lunatic finally gave us permission to get out the car.

  With the crimson red of the setting sun washing over the castle, the ruins appeared even more intimidating than they had the day before. The elongated shadows from the skeletal tree branches traced strange symbols on the crumbling walls. The woods seemed even more oppressive in the darkness. Our captor’s constant, violent yelling didn’t help improve the mood, either.

  The Dutchman forced us inside the castle. Once we were in the living room, he forced us to sit down on the floor. As I sat there, I considered the possibility that the Dutchman had been the one who’d recently used the fireplace. But if he were hiding out in the castle, then why had he rented a room at the McStay Inn?

  “What do we do now?” Meb asked as soon as the man had moved away from us.

  Before I could answer, the Dutchman yelled some words in a commanding tone. He moved the knife slowly through the air as if he were tracing a symbol. My legs started to feel heavier.

  “We just wait,” I whispered, sounding much calmer than I felt. I tried to lift one leg, but it took all my strength to move it. It was the same with my arms. It felt like the pull of gravity had gotten stronger.

  “Finley!” Meb cried. “Why can’t I move?!”

  “He’s imprisoned us somehow,” I said. “Don’t fight it — the more I struggle, the harder it gets to move.”

  I peered around the room for something that might help, but it was too dark to see much. Above the chimney, where I’d seen the blazing pyramid the day before, there was a different drawing now — a much bigger one. A skull. Below the skull were four letters that wiggled like worms.

  “Can you see those letters moving?” I whispered to Meb.

  She looked at them. “Oh, dear,” she muttered.

  At least I’m not going crazy, I thought.

  Suddenly, the four letters shifted their order into a recognizable word: LILY.

  That can’t be good, I thought.

  “I think your friend is the one he’s looking for,” Meb murmured.

  I nodded slowly. I glanced at our kidnapper. He was standing in a corner and seemed to be waiting for something to happen. He watched us with his wild eyes, and his face had an expression on it that was every bit as terrifying as the knife he held in his hand.

  If we had any hope, it all depended on Aiby — I knew she was somewhere nearby. When we had first climbed into the car with the Dutchman, I was sure I saw my bicycle lift itself off the ground through the rear-view mirror.

  At first, I was angry that Aiby had lied to me again. She obviously had more than the Cloak of Invisibility’s label after all! But I couldn’t help but smile as I watched her follow us on my bike.

  I just hoped that Aiby knew what she was doing. I had to trust her — and her magical objects. I hoped her father would arrive at any moment armed with a whole arsenal of magical marvels and overwhelm this madman.

  But neither Aiby nor her father arrived. Instead, someone far more terrifying appeared. I first felt his presence in the sudden drop in temperature. I began to shiver uncontrollably as the room was consumed with a profound silence.

  Meb noticed it, too, as did the Dutchman. I’m certain I saw a glimmer of fear glowing in his crazed eyes. It made me wonder what a nutcase like him could possibly be afraid of.

  The letters on the chimney started to sparkle. Then I heard a furious flapping of wings. Then the sound of footsteps on the floor above us. Finally, the wood steps of the staircase in the room next to us creaked under the weight of someone descending.

  The Dutchman hurried to take out the bottle and the message from his pockets. He scurried to the bottom of the staircase in the next room, and then stopped. From where I was sitting, I could only see his back. The footsteps coming down the stairs halted.

  “Have you found the third riddle?” the stranger asked in sharp, formal English.

  The Dutchman uttered a few unintelligible words. Then I heard the bottle smash against the floor

  “And do you know the answer?” the stranger asked.

  In a tone of voice that brought shivers to my spine, the Dutchman spoke in short bursts. Then he let out one long, furious rant. Despite stretching my neck out as much as I could, I could only make out the broken glass and the Dutchman’s back.

  “Did you go to the farm?” the stranger asked.

  The farm? I thought. Which farm does he mean?

  “You have all three bottles now?” the stranger said. Then, after a long pause, “Good. You don’t need to kill anyone else, then.”

  All three bottles? I could barely think. If each bottle contained a riddle, then we had just picked up one on the beach, one was inside the bottle in room nineteen at the McStay Inn, and the other one had to be the first bottle I’d found.

  “The bottle I took home,” I murmured. “To the farm. My farm.”

  Cold anxiety gr
ipped me. I desperately tried to stand, but I couldn’t even shift my weight to one side.

  “Now that you have all three riddles,” the stranger said, “it’s time for the awakening.”

  “Who do they want to wake up?” Meb asked, startling me. In my adrenaline-soaked haze, I’d completely forgotten that she was next to me.

  “I don’t know,” I said in a small voice.

  The mysterious visitor began to ascend the stairs. I heard his footsteps pass along the ceiling. Then there was silence. Then more silence. Suddenly, the Dutchman made a guttural noise that was beyond terrifying. I heard him moving something. Then we saw him light up some flares. Once again there was silence.

  A few moments later I heard a crack, then a rustling sound. It sounded like a tape recorder was playing. “Finley,” Meb whispered, “we have to get out of here.”

  I’d never agreed more with anyone in my entire life. But I couldn’t escape — my legs still felt as heavy as rocks. I wondered why Aiby hadn’t come to help us.

  The rustling sound in the other room was getting louder. Then I heard a recording of a church choir singing. My eyes nearly burst out of my head. I’d heard that song earlier that afternoon when it was being sung by the choir of Applecross!

  What is the name of that song, I thought. Come on, Finley — think!

  I thought back to what the reverend had said several days before. I was asking him about the Lily family while he was busy preparing the score for afternoon choir practice. He had been angry at the choirmaster’s song choice because it was about Oberon and Puck and other so-called pagan creatures . . .

  That’s it! I remembered.

  The song is called “The Giants of the Sea!” I remembered. That’s what Reverend Prospero called it, anyway. It was a languid tune, but its heavy bass tones seemed to come from the depths of the earth itself. The longer it was being played, the more it freaked me out.

  “Finley?” Meb whimpered. “What is happening?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know,” I said. “The only thing I know for sure is that they’re crazy.”

  As if on cue, the Dutchman walked back into the living room and then disappeared into the kitchen. He returned a moment later only to disappear back into the other room again.

  The song stopped playing. The end of the tape made a slapping noise. Then, shortly afterward, it started up again. It was the same song.

  I heard the Dutchman speak a series of strange words in a solemn tone of voice. The ground beneath us began to shake. The walls and ceiling began to warp, causing flakes of plaster to peel away and drop to the ground. I felt myself being shifted by an invisible force.

  The castle was growing.

  Cracks appeared all over the floor. The chimney snapped in two, sending down a shower of plaster and brick. The recorded choir of Applecross continued to sing their dirge while the Dutchman chanted his dismal words.

  A sudden tremor knocked me over and left me groping among the flakes of plaster. When I realized that my legs and arms were no longer heavy, I jumped to my feet and shook off the debris. I glanced around, desperately searching for a way to escape.

  “Meb!” I called, trying to locate her through the falling dust.

  “Finley! Help!”

  I heard her, but I couldn’t see her. I ran toward her voice. We found each other and then ran away as fast as we could. We burst through the brambles outside. The thorns ripped our clothing and scratched us, but we didn’t slow down. Cold air filled my throat as I took in gasping breaths.

  “What’s happening in there?!” Meb cried as I pulled her along with me.

  “It’s waking up!” I cried.

  Meb’s eyes went wide. “What is waking up?” she asked.

  “Something big!” I said.

  I saw the castle walls start to split. Then the wooden roof snapped open like a rib cage. I could still hear the choir of Applecross and the Dutchman’s raving voice through all the chaos and noise.

  Meb and I plunged into the woods. Once we were safely inside, we stopped to catch our breath. I wanted to keep running, but it felt like there was some magnetic force keeping me close to that castle.

  I’d once heard that fear can be more addictive than happiness — that horror stimulates the mind in a way that makes it impossible to look away. Well, it’s true. A part of me kept wanting to run away as fast as I could, but the bigger part insisted that I stay and watch what was about to happen. It seemed to be the case for Meb, as well.

  “Are you seeing this?” Meb whispered.

  From the ruins of the Lily castle, a figure began to appear. When it emerged, it looked to be ten times the size of a normal man. It was hunched over and jagged on the sides. It looked like a giant made of brick, earth, roots, and metal. Fragments of wallpaper dotted its huge shoulders. It had a tiny head, but its enormous arms and legs were still half-trapped underground.

  “What is that?!” Meb cried.

  Something that should have stayed asleep, I thought. A giant made of castle and earth.

  The giant was shaking bricks off its body like Patches shaking water off after a swim. Then the choir music stopped. However, the terrifying voice of the Dutchman continued to chant. At that moment, I wanted to be somewhere else. Tucked in bed, fast asleep, at the stream, or even at school. Anywhere but here, I thought.

  I heard a rustle of leaves nearby. “Aiby!” I shouted as she emerged from the woods. I scowled at her. “Where the heck have you been?!”

  “I’ve been nearby,” she said nervously.

  “Why didn’t you try to help us?!” I shouted.

  “I couldn’t come too close,” she said. She pointed to what remained of the castle. “The choir music kept me away. The music is what made me faint earlier today in the village.”

  Aiby crouched down between me and Meb. She smiled, as though everything was fine now that she had explained her absence. She glanced at the giant. It was ripping apart the web of creeping ivy that still held it down.

  “Why does music make you faint?” I asked.

  “Not just any music,” Aiby said. “It’s only that particular song. I didn’t recognize it earlier today in the village. I just didn’t imagine . . .”

  “Imagine what?” I asked.

  Aiby looked like she was in a trance. “That someone would have actually found the giant,” she said.

  The giant howled, shaking the ground beneath us.

  I grabbed Aiby by her shoulders. “Aiby, what are you talking about?!” I cried.

  Aiby sighed. “That song is our cursed family anthem,” she said. “It’s the same song that caused my ancestor, Reginald, to become shipwrecked here in Applecross. It’s also the reason why I didn’t come to help you and Meb earlier. They know what they’re doing. If anyone from the Lily family hears that song — even just a few notes of it — they immediately fall into a deep sleep.”

  I looked at Aiby with a crooked smile. “Oh, right, of course,” I said sarcastically. “Don’t worry, it happens to the best of us.”

  “The song is linked to that thing, too!” Aiby insisted, pointing to the struggling creature. “In the past, the Lily family had some . . . disagreements with giants. And now it seems they’ve found out about it.”

  “They?” I asked.

  “Someone who wishes to do us harm,” Aiby said.

  “The famous Askells?” I asked.

  Aiby shook her head. She pointed to the Dutchman. He was standing atop a mound of debris with his arms outstretched toward the giant. “He isn’t an Askell,” she said. “The Askells are tall and blond. Every single one of them.”

  “Then who is he?” I asked.

  “His real name is Unther Farla,” Aiby said. “Before he went insane, he was a carpenter in Rotterdam. Something must have happened to him. No sane person would ever enter into a contract with the Spirits of Rancour. I mean, just look at him. He’s obviously lost his mind — the language he’s speaking is a dead one.”

  The giant lifted
its head toward the sky. It gave out another terrifying roar.

  “What will happen now?” asked Meb.

  “Farla’s trying to gain control over him,” Aiby said.

  “Control?” I repeated.

  “If you pose three riddles to a giant and it cannot answer correctly, then it will become your slave,” Aiby said. “At least until someone else stumps it with another set of three riddles. Or you die.”

  We could hear the Dutchman reading out the first of the three riddles.

  “What’s he saying now?” Meb asked.

  We huddled close together. “It’s a riddle about two children who are born on the same day from the same mother,” Aiby translated.

  “You can understand the language?” I asked.

  “Of course,” Aiby said. “Anyone who sells magical objects has to be fluent in all of the Spirit languages.”

  I thought about making a sarcastic comment, but decided I’d rather know what the Dutchman was saying.

  As the Dutchman raised his voice, Aiby translated the final part of the riddle. “Now I ask you: how many children are there?”

  “And the giant has to give its answer now?” Meb asked.

  “If it knows the answer to the riddle, then Farla will die,” Aiby whispered.

  “Then what would happen?” I asked.

  “The giant will be free,” Aiby said.

  The giant bellowed and struck its chest with its rocky arms. “It doesn’t know the answer,” Aiby explained.

  “So now what?” I asked.

  “Farla has to tell the giant the answer,” Aiby said. “Then he has to give the second riddle to the giant.”

  The Dutchman began speaking again. He gave the solution to the first riddle, and then read out the second. Aiby translated the story of the four men and the woman, which I already knew.

  “Now I ask you this,” Aiby translated, “why did the woman stay dry?”

  “She’s in a casket,” I said. Aiby nodded.