by Dean Lorey
The Director of the Nightmare Division was a tall man with steel gray hair and gray eyes to match. In fact, he was so gray that he almost seemed to disappear into the metal walls of his chambers. His manicured fingers tapped incessantly on his chrome desktop as he stared at Charlie down his long, crooked nose.
“Charlie Benjamin,” he said slowly. Then: “I remember.”
Charlie’s blood froze.
“You remember?” he echoed uncertainly.
“Yes,” the Director replied, savoring the word like a candy that delivers new flavors the harder you suck it. “I remember how you brought Barakkas into our world, in spite of my dire warnings. I remember how I sentenced you to be Reduced so that you could never again harm us. I remember how your friends and teachers came to your aid against my direct orders. In short, I remember…everything.”
Charlie felt light-headed. He desperately wanted to sit down, put his head between his knees, close his eyes, and pretend this was all a bad dream—but he knew better.
Unfortunately, all the things the Director said were true: Charlie had allowed Barakkas to come to Earth and join Verminion. It had been accidental, of course. Charlie’s untrained power was so strong that, under horrible stress, he had mistakenly opened a portal into the Inner Circle of the Nether, and Barakkas had rushed through.
As a result, the Director had called for Charlie to be “Reduced”—a quaint name for a barbaric surgical procedure that would have forever stripped Charlie of the ability to portal or banish. In fact, it had been done to Pinch as a child, leaving him bitter and powerless. The Headmaster, Rex, and Tabitha had flatly refused to allow that to happen to Charlie, which placed them all squarely in the Director’s crosshairs.
“You’re probably wondering how I remember?” the Director said, getting up from behind his desk and walking toward them. He ran his long fingers through his slicked-back gray hair, releasing the odor of the grooming product he’d used to style it—something almondy. “God knows you did everything on heaven and earth and elsewhere to make me forget.”
And there it was, finally.
The Hags, Charlie thought, sick to his stomach. He knows about the Hags of the Void.
“You must have thought you were so clever,” the Director said, his eyes drawn down to slits, “using the Queen of the Hags to take away my memories of your crimes. How brilliant you all must have thought you were. How remarkably devious.”
“What’s he talking about?” Theodore whispered.
“I have no idea,” Violet said with a shrug.
But I sure do, Charlie thought grimly.
He hadn’t been there when the Headmaster, Rex, and Tabitha kidnapped the Director and brought him to the Queen of the Hags, but he had seen what the foul beast could do. She flew toward you on her powerful leather wings, enfolded you in them, and then, leaning back her green scaly head, she snaked a shockingly long tongue through her forest of teeth and plunged it into your ear, where she sucked deeply of—
Your memories.
She ate them like chocolate candies, and when she was done, you lost them forever.
Except not this time.
The Hag Queen had taken from the Director all the memories of Charlie and his friends…but somehow he had gotten them back.
“How?” Charlie asked. “How did you remember?”
“Look around you.” Director Drake gestured at the remarkable electronics of the Nightmare Division. “Everything that happens here is recorded and catalogued. It was only a matter of time before the members of my council showed me those recordings…reminded me what you had done to me, what all of you had done to me.” He leaned in so close that Charlie could see the coffee stains on his teeth. “Or did you think I would never find out?”
“Of course we expected you to find out,” the Headmaster replied, startling Charlie. He had forgotten she was even in the room.
“And what did you plan to do then?”
“Why, take you back to the Hag, of course. Get your memory wiped, like we always do.”
“Like you always…” Director Drake’s face suddenly went the color of ash. With his gray hair and gray eyes, he looked like the tin man from some evil, alternate version of The Wizard of Oz. “You don’t actually mean you—”
“Oh, Reginald,” the Headmaster interrupted. “You can’t possibly think this is the first time you’ve remembered, do you? Why in the world would the council have waited six months to show you the recordings of our conflicts? They did it right away, of course, and, right away, we brought you back to the Hag to have your memory wiped again.”
“What?” the Director gasped, and Charlie almost, almost, felt a little sorry for him. “How many times have you let that…creature…have her way with me?”
The Headmaster glanced off in thought. “I’m not sure. It’s so hard to keep track…”
“Seven,” Rex drawled. “‘Least, that’s how many times I remember.”
“Seven,” the Headmaster agreed with a firm nod. “That sounds right.”
“You’ve done this to me seven times?”
“Yes, and it is just as distasteful for us as I’m sure it is for you. Unfortunately, your rage toward Charlie Benjamin has made it necessary. Clearly, this is an issue we will have to resolve, but now is not the time—we have far more pressing matters to attend to. There is something potentially catastrophic happening in the Nether. The Guardian—”
“I don’t care about the Guardian!” Director Drake snapped. “I care about seeing all of you suffer the punishment you most certainly deserve!”
And, without another word, he reached under his desk and pressed a button. Red lights started flashing throughout the Nightmare Division as sirens wailed.
“He hit the alarm!” Violet yelled. “We’re gonna get caught!”
“Oh, I hope so,” Director Drake replied. “But don’t worry, little girl—I’ll do you the favor of sending you to the Reduction room last.”
“Lemme at him!” Theodore yelled, rushing toward the man, but Charlie held him back.
“Settle down, sprout,” Rex said, unlooping his lasso from his belt. “Nothing’s gonna happen to us, trust me.” He turned to Tabitha. “Make a portal, would ya, darlin’?”
“Where to?”
“Why, the Hags, of course.”
Director Drake stumbled backward, steadying himself on the edge of his desk. “No…this is treason.”
“He says that every time, don’t he?” Rex said with a chuckle. Then, with one quick snap of his wrist, the lasso sailed across the Director’s study and pulled tight around the man’s chest, pinning his arms to his sides.
“Let’s go, pardner. You got a date with a beautiful lady.”
The Queen of the Hags was gnawing off her toenails with her teeth when the group portaled into the grand ballroom of her crumbling manor in the Nether. She glanced up at them from her stained throne but kept chewing away at a particularly thick, stubborn nail as if the arrival of the humans was not much of a surprise. Several Hags in dirty ball gowns stood in attendance, brushing her matted hair with fine, silver combs.
“Wow,” Theodore said, looking around in dismay. “This place is gross!”
“No kidding,” Violet agreed.
“We’re back,” Rex said, yanking the Director forward with his lasso.
The Hag Queen finally bit off the particularly troublesome toenail and spat it across the ballroom with surprising force. The hard, yellow crescent stuck into the finely carved wooden mantel above the giant fireplace like a dart.
“Indeed you are,” she said, licking her black lips. “And I see you’ve brought the Director again.”
“We have,” the Headmaster said, walking toward the monstrous parody of a woman. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“Always,” the Hag Queen replied, then yelped in pain. “You hit a tangle!” She turned to the Hag at her left, and, with one swipe of her taloned claw, sliced the creature’s head cleanly from its body. Black ichor fountain
ed up as the dead Hag collapsed to the floor, dropping its silver comb with a clatter.
“Really,” the Hag Queen said with a disgusted sigh as she rose into the air on her leathery wings, stirring up so much dust that the ballroom looked like a Texas prairie. “A good lady-in-hating is impossible to find. You beg them to be gentle, but they always disappoint. I’m a delicate flower, you know.”
“And a beautiful one,” Rex chimed in, giving her his best smile.
“Oh, you,” the beast replied with a girlish giggle. The sound made Charlie’s stomach heave. “Always a charmer.”
“I just call ’em as I see ’em, Miss.”
“Miss!” the Hag Queen echoed with a howl. “I love that. Are you sure you won’t let me have another taste of those delicious memories you keep locked away inside that handsome skull? A sweet little bonbon from your past?” She swooped toward him and brushed his ear with her black lips. “Your first kiss, perhaps?” she cooed sickeningly.
“I’m afraid we have more pressing business,” the Headmaster said.
“Ugh, you don’t really want me to drain the memory of that crusty old relic again, do you?” The Hag Queen nodded to the Director. “I won’t do it, you know. His hatred of the boy is stale. It’s a memory of a memory of a memory. He doesn’t truly hate the boy anymore, anyway—he only knows that he should.”
Charlie turned to the Director. “Is that true?”
“Of course not!” the Director snapped. Then he seemed to realize that he was arguing in favor of having his memory drained by a monster. “I mean…hasn’t this all gone too far? Aren’t there alternatives?”
“Oh, I agree completely,” the Headmaster replied. “I would love to put an end to this madness. As I said, we have serious matters to attend to, life-or-death concerns. Perhaps it’s time for a truce.”
“A truce,” the Director echoed. “Yes. Perhaps that is prudent. In the best interest of everyone.”
But before he could speak another word, the ground beneath them began to shake violently. At first Charlie thought it was an earthquake, but he could tell by the panic that flooded the Hag Queen’s eyes that it was something far worse.
“No,” she said, rising higher into the air on her strong wings. “He’s near.”
“He?” Charlie asked.
The stained-glass windows in the ballroom shook crazily as the rumbling intensified and a ripple like a giant wave passed under the manor, buckling the ancient stone floor.
Something huge had moved through the ground beneath their feet.
Something monstrous.
Everyone was thrown to the floor as the chandeliers came loose from their ceiling anchors and plummeted down like glass bombs.
“Cover your eyes!” Rex yelled.
Charlie and his friends did—just in time to avoid being blinded by the fragments. Soon, the violent rumbling lessened and everyone was able to stand. The ground beneath their feet spasmed once…twice…then grew still.
“What was that?” Violet asked after a moment, breaking the silence.
“That,” the Hag Queen replied as she hovered high in the air, “was Slagguron.”
“The Third Named,” the Headmaster said softly, eyeing the massive damage the monster had inflicted just by passing near them. It was one of the few times Charlie had seen her look impressed.
“He travels underground?” Tabitha asked.
“Didn’t you know?” The Hag Queen seemed genuinely surprised.
“We’ve never seen him,” Director Drake said, finally shrugging Rex’s lasso from around his chest. “We’ve heard rumors, of course, and one of them was that he was like a giant worm that traveled through the Nethercrust, but they were never confirmed.”
“Consider them confirmed.” The Hag Queen settled back down on the buckled ground. “He’s been very active lately, tunneling through much of the Nether. Never before has he strayed from his palace in the Inner Circle.” She smiled secretively. “But, of course, there is much that is strange in the Nether, of late.”
Just then, a shriek ripped through the air with such intensity that the stained-glass windows exploded from the vibration. A sound like a jet engine roared closer.
“Look!” Theodore yelled and pointed. “That thing’s ridiculous!”
Through the broken window, Charlie could see a golden streak in the sky, flapping magnificently against the red, fiery tornado of the Inner Circle far in the distance.
“Tyrannus,” the Headmaster whispered. “The Fourth Named.”
The streak moved through the alien air of the Nether with astonishing speed, and Charlie could make out a vague, batlike presence—it flew so fast that he couldn’t see much more than a blur. Then there was that shriek again, so deafening that Charlie felt his bones vibrate. The flying, golden monstrosity roared overhead, filling the world with thunder and shattering the already broken pieces of glass into a fine powder.
“What the heck’s going on around here?” Rex asked, astonished. “First Slagguron, then Tyrannus. The Named have never acted like this!”
A crazy cackle ripped through the air as Tyrannus looped back around and soared high above the crumbling manor of the Hags.
“VICTORY!” he screeched in his insanely shrill voice. “Monsters of the Nether, REJOICE! We have WON! The Guardian is DONE and now we will have our FUN!”
“No,” Tabitha gasped.
“This,” the Headmaster said, turning to Director Drake, “is what I was afraid of. I must go to the Guardian immediately.”
“I’ll go with you,” Tabitha said.
“May as well count me in, too,” Rex added. “You’re gonna have to take me anyway. The princess here”—he nodded to Tabitha—“can’t stand to be away from yours truly for too long.”
“Oh, please.”
The Headmaster shook her head. “I’m sorry. I appreciate your offer, both of you, but I must go alone. You’ve not been around the Guardian before, but I’ve spent many long days with that gentle creature. I know its unique problems…and its odd desires…and I know how to resist them.”
“You’re being foolish, Brazenhope,” Director Drake snorted. “If the Guardian is weakened or dying, who knows how many Nethercreatures may be closing in on it? If there’s to be a fight, our strength lies in our numbers.”
“This is not a fight of force, Reginald,” the Headmaster replied, “but of subtlety. Besides, you will all be engaged in a much greater task. The time has come, I’m afraid, to put into effect a plan I had dearly hoped to avoid.”
She glanced at each of them in turn, her eyes gravely serious.
“You must begin the Division Invasion.”
CHAPTER FIVE
THE DIVISION INVASION
The High Council Chamber of the Nightmare Division was packed. Adult Banishers and Nethermancers stirred restlessly in their seats, then quieted as the Director took his place at the dais.
“I have just left an engagement with the Headmaster,” he said, after clearing his throat. “And we have come to an agreement. There is now a truce in place regarding the matter of Charlie Benjamin.”
Charlie shifted uncomfortably in his chair as all the adults strained to see him.
“What are you lookin’ at?” Theodore said, staring them down. “This isn’t the circus.”
The adults glanced away.
“Because of alarming new developments, everyone associated with Charlie Benjamin’s past misconduct is hereby pardoned, which clears the way for us to confront the greatest threat we have ever faced.”
He began to pace.
“Ladies and gentlemen, something extraordinary is happening in the Nether, and we must act immediately or find ourselves in a war with unimaginable consequences. We have reason to believe that the Guardian has been weakened and that Slagguron and Tyrannus may soon escape to join Barakkas and Verminion here on Earth. I don’t need to remind you that, if they succeed, the four Named will be able to use their artifacts in concert to summon the Fifth. If that ha
ppens, the Nethercreatures will begin a full-scale assault on our world—unless we stop them. Unfortunately, we have no choice but to implement a plan we had hoped to avoid: the Division Invasion.”
He turned to William, who stood behind him on the dais. “General Dagget? Please fill us in.”
Rex groaned. “Oh, come on. He put this idiot in charge?” And that’s when he noticed Theodore beside him. “Sorry, kid,” Rex continued, a little sheepishly. “I know he’s your dad and all, but it’s no secret that William and I haven’t always seen eye to eye.”
“It’s okay,” Theodore replied. “Neither have we.”
William stepped up to the front of the dais and coolly surveyed the assembled Banishers and Nethermancers in front of him.
“If all four Named escape to Earth, there is only one way to prevent them from using their artifacts together to summon the Fifth.”
He gazed at them stonily.
“One of the Named must die.”
The room was as still and quiet as a tomb. Even Charlie wasn’t quite sure he’d heard right.
“How is that even possible?” someone finally shouted.
“We don’t stand a chance against a Named!” another said.
And then the floodgates opened. All the Banishers and Nethermancers began talking rapidly, loudly debating what most of them seemed to consider a clearly suicidal plan.
As they argued, a long, loud whistle pierced the clamor, and one by one the voices grew silent. To Charlie’s astonishment, he realized that the whistle had come from Rex.
“I know what y’all are thinkin’,” the cowboy said, standing. “Killing a Named is like staring down the barrel of a gun and hopin’ to catch the bullet with your teeth. It’s a tall gulp of water—no question about it—but we gotta drink it eventually, and I don’t see our chances getting any better by puttin’ it off. Heck, thanks to Charlie Benjamin here”—he tilted his hat in Charlie’s direction, and Charlie flushed with embarrassment—“Barakkas and Verminion were wounded pretty bad a while back.”