by Cheree Alsop
I nodded. “Yes, but what I’m asking is different. Is there something else to this place? Some sort of spirit or something that makes it alive?”
He watched me closely. “Why do you ask?”
I lifted a shoulder. “Well, I don’t really know how to put it.” I didn’t want my uncle to think I was completely crazy. By his expression, he was nearly there. I sighed and told the truth. “Ever since I came here, things have been happening, things I can’t account for.”
“Like what?” he asked.
I cleared my throat in embarrassment and said, “Well, doors open when I need them to, the gate lets me in and out sometimes, and once, I heard a whisper. It was actually the first day I got here.”
Uncle Conrad’s expression was unreadable when he said, “What did it say?”
“It said, ‘Welcome to Haunted High.’” I remembered the way air had brushed across the back of my neck as though someone was breathing there, but when I had turned around, I was alone. “It’s just, well, unsettling.”
A true smile warmed my uncle’s face. “Then you’ve met Cadish.”
“Who’s Cadish?” I asked.
“Your mother’s imaginary friend,” Uncle Conrad replied.
I couldn’t help staring at him. “What do you mean, my mother’s imaginary friend?”
“Silvia had a great imagination.” Uncle Conrad’s smile took on a wistful look. “I wish you knew her when she was your age. She was all spunk and pep. When she laughed, the whole room would join in.” He shook his head. “I was the older one, but I always found myself following her around. It was like she held some sort of magic over us. She used to tell us stories, and most of those included her imaginary friend, Cadish.”
His words didn’t make any sense. As much as I loved hearing him talk about my mother, her stories and what I had experienced didn’t coincide. “But if he was imaginary, why do things happen as if he’s real?”
“Because she made him real,” Conrad explained.
I sighed. “Now you’re the one telling a story.
Conrad smiled and motioned for me to join him at a table. I sat down across from him and leaned my elbows on the top.
“Your mother was stubborn. I see the same stubbornness in you,” he said. “When she wanted something to happen, no amount of persuasion would change her mind.” His gaze took on a distant cast. “When she was about ten, she decided that she’d told enough stories about Cadish. It was time that he was able to experience them with us.” He shrugged. “I guess she figured he was real enough to her that he should be real to everyone.”
“How is that even possible?” I asked.
Uncle Conrad opened a hand. “Well, when you’re friends with witches and warlocks, strange things can happen.” He winked. “Especially when there’s a Grim involved.”
The thought of my mother being friends with a Grim like I was made me smile. I had to admit that strange things happened with my friends. Maybe it wasn’t so farfetched to believe the same occurred with my mother.
“So they made Cadish?” I guessed.
He shook his head. “More like they gave life to her stories of him, only it didn’t happen the way she wanted.” He pointed to a corner of the cafeteria. “In fact, it happened right over there. I remember her plans. She had read every spell in the library and even stolen, or borrowed,” he corrected with a wink, “A few books from Professor Frogson. In the books, she found a way to make her imagination come to life. Her friends were more than willing to participate, and she dragged me along as a mostly unwilling spectator.” He sighed. “I was always afraid when Silvia got that look in her eye.”
I fought back a smile at the fact that Alden and Vicken had occasionally said the same thing about me.
“So what happened?” I pressed, intrigued.
Uncle Conrad looked at the corner of the cafeteria as if he saw the scene unfold again. “The witches and warlocks recited the spell she found as she told her favorite stories about him, and your mother used moonstones to turn her memories into a soul.” He shook his head. “From what I’ve heard, that’s not supposed to happen. But your mother was something special, and I think she hoped so much that it just had to work.”
“So Cadish became real?”
Uncle Conrad nodded. “In a sense. I actually saw him for a moment. The air shimmered, a figure formed in the circle, and the real life Cadish smiled at your mother. She laughed her contagious laugh and said, ‘Hi, Cadish!’ as if she wasn’t even surprised to see him. The rest of us were staring like idiots.” He chuckled. “I think one of the warlocks actually passed out from shock.” His smile fell. “And then it happened.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“One of the moonstones broke.” He opened his hand. “It shattered, the circle cracked, and then Cadish disappeared.” He shook his head. “Silvia was heartbroken. We tried to get him back, but nothing we did made a difference. We even found another moonstone and redid the ceremony, but we couldn’t get him to appear again.”
I felt sad even though I hadn’t been there. The thought of my mother’s friend vanishing was heartbreaking when I imagined how she must have felt.
“But Silvia told me months later that Cadish wasn’t gone,” Conrad continued with wonder in his voice. “She said he simply wasn’t like us. She told me he helped her sometimes, like a guardian angel. He watched over her. She said it was his way of showing how grateful he was to have a soul.” Uncle Conrad looked at me. “I think that’s who’s helping you. Maybe Cadish knows you’re your mother’s son.”
“Maybe,” I replied. The thought was comforting.
Running footsteps sounded from the corridor. I was standing before I even realized I had moved. When Dara appeared, my muscles were tense and I had to fight back the urge to phase and protect her from whatever had made her so desperate to find me.
“What is it?” I asked, hurrying to her.
“Demons,” she said, gasping for air. “The basement is full of them!”
I looked at Uncle Conrad.
“Where are the heart pieces?” he asked. “We have to act, now!”
“The Headmistress has them in her office; but we’re not ready!” I told him.
“We have to be ready,” he replied. “Get the team. Chutka knows we’re up to something. If we don’t bind the heart to the moonstone now, we won’t have a chance against him.”
Dara and I ran up the stairs. I stopped to get Alden while Dara continued up after the others.
I burst into the room we shared. “Alden, wake up!” I shouted.
The Grim sat up and groggily rubbed his eyes. “What’s going on?”
“Demons are coming for the heart pieces. If we don’t perform the spell now, everything will be lost,” I quickly explained.
Alden jumped out of bed. “Where’s the others?”
“Dara’s waking the team up. The students aren’t ready,” I said.
“We need them anyway,” the Grim replied. “Wake them up.”
“All of them? How?” I asked, surprised at his commanding tone.
“Howl, Finn. Summon your pack. You’re a werewolf. Put that to use.”
I stared at him. “Alden, you’re a genius.”
He grinned and pushed his mussed hair out of his face. “I’m glad somebody noticed.”
I ran to the door and cupped my hands around my mouth. I sucked in a deep breath and let out a long, low howl that reverberated up the stairs. It would have been easier to howl as a wolf, but telling the students afterwards would have been impossible. Fortunately, the werewolves responded immediately.
“What’s going on?” Rhett asked from further up the stairs the moment my howl stopped. Several other werewolves poked their heads out from behind him.
“The demons are here. We need to act now!” I told them.
Rhett looked behind him. “Round up the rest of the students. Meet Finn in the corridor.”
Werewolves took off running.
Out of habit, I reached ba
ck to shut the door to our room and saw my cellphone flashing. I picked it up and glanced at the message.
HOW’D THE TRAINING GO? WHEN IS THE SPELL BEING CAST? I CAN HELP.- VICKEN
I wrote back quickly. THINGS ARE FINE. GET BETTER.- FINN
I tossed the phone down and ran out of the room. The last thing Vicken needed during his recovery was to worry about our team in trouble. I rushed down the stairs with the thought that at least he and Kiyah would be safe.
Professor Briggs burst through the unicorn painting the moment I reached the corridor. He shoved the picture shut again and leaned against it.
“The demons are coming,” he said, his face pale and chest heaving. “We need to perform the ceremony.”
“Dara told me.” I put my shoulder against the photograph. “The students are coming. Where’s the Headmistress?”
“In her office,” Briggs replied.
Headmistress Wrengold appeared in the hallway. “I’m right here.”
“Where are we going to do this?” I asked.
The Headmistress gestured toward the corridor in which we stood. “Here. We need the room, and it’s defendable.”
Professors hurried from the hallway. Headmistress Wrengold began giving out orders. “Bamenda, shield the windows.”
Mrs. Hassleton lifted her hand and the windows that lined one side of the great corridor immediately darkened.
“Mr. Smalls, seal the doors so the demons don’t catch us by surprise,” the Headmistress continued.
Brack motioned with one hand. I heard the lock click on the massive front doors followed by the doors in the long hallway.
Other students were beginning to arrive. By the controlled terror on their faces, I guessed that the werewolves had told them what we were up against. Fortunately, no one appeared to be panicking, yet.
Dara ran down the stairs followed by Lyris.
“Let’s begin the binding,” the Headmistress instructed.
At her motion, Brack grabbed a marble-topped end table and carried it over as though it weighed nothing. Headmistress Wrengold set the three boxes on top. Professor Briggs left me at the picture frame to carry over the one containing the moonstone. The demons scrabbled against the unicorn picture. My feet began to slide backwards despite my werewolf strength.
“Brack, a little help here?” I called out.
The huge warlock looked at me. When he saw my predicament, he lifted a hand. I felt the frame stop moving.
“I’ve got it,” Brack called.
I took a hesitant step backwards. When the picture frame stayed put despite the yowling and protests of the demons beyond, I let out a sigh of relief.
The Headmistress opened the three boxes, revealing the pieces of Chutka’s heart.
“Conrad,” she instructed as she opened the one with the moonstone. Careful not to touch the stone, the Headmistress tipped the box and let it fall in the middle of the table.
My uncle gave her a worried look. “Are you sure you want me to do this?”
She nodded. “Let’s finish what you started.”
The fear in Conrad’s eyes was unmistakable. “Alright, but once I begin, I won’t be able to stop.” He swallowed. “Trust me. I tried last time.”
His reference to the slaughter that had ensued sent tension through the air.
I had to give the Headmistress credit for how steady her voice was when she said, “Begin.”
My uncle sucked in a shaky breath and began to chant in a language I didn’t recognize. The darkness of the words sent a chill down my spine. My instincts told me to distance myself from him, but I pushed down the feeling. Instead, I crossed closer to the table as the other students formed their circle. My werewolf pack came up behind me. I could feel their presence without looking at them.
A hand touched my arm. I felt Dara’s reassuring presence.
“Let’s finish this,” she said quietly.
I nodded. “It’s time.”
“Begin the shield,” Lyris said at my words.
The students behind us repeated the witch’s chant. Brack’s deep voice followed along with the other warlocks. The air shimmered and a shield glowed, ready to solidify at my command.
In front of Conrad, the stones began to pulse. Darkness flowed outward from them in a thick, snaking mist. The pieces of Chutka the Shambler’s heart vibrated in their open boxes. Dark power surged outward in beckoning waves. I heard Uncle Conrad groan. His hands reached toward the heart pieces. The tendrils of mist snaked down his arms.
“The moonstone,” I said.
Conrad ignored me. His gaze was on the black heart pieces. I could see the reflection of the pulsing power in his gaze. My chest tightened at the thought that we were about to see history repeat itself. If Conrad allowed Chutka to take over his body the way the Darkest Warlock had done, there was no way I could stop him. Already, I could feel the Demon Prince’s power growing. If he gained a form he could control, we would all be lost.
I closed my eyes, but fear pressed against me. I had seen what Conrad did the first time. Briggs, Headmistress Wrengold, my mother, and so many of the students and professors at the Academy had suffered as a result. I didn’t want my friends, my pack, or my team to go through the same thing.
A hand slipped into mine. Before I could question whose it was, my fears faded and calm reassurance filled me. I knew what to do and how I could help. I opened my eyes and shot Dara a grateful look. She nodded.
With a calming breath, I pushed a command at Conrad. “Bind the moonstone.”
The werewolf glanced at me. I pushed the command again. “Bind the moonstone, now.”
My uncle’s eyes widened. He looked from the heart pieces to the moonstone that lay in the middle of the table. Uncle Conrad’s jaw clenched. He picked up the first box and turned it over so that the heart piece rolled to a stop beside the moonstone. He tossed the ironwood box to the floor. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he did the same to the second and then the third boxes.
“Begin the spell,” the Headmistress said.
On her command, the professors around her read from the pieces of paper they held. The mythics in charge of Haunted High began the spell tentatively. They hadn’t had much time to practice; I was impressed they had found the spell in the first place. Fortunately, as they read, their recitation became stronger. With Professor Mellon’s clear voice leading the group, the professors repeated the spell over and over in time to the chants Lyris and Brack lead.
The heart pieces drew closer to the moonstone as though it was a magnet. The darkness that snaked through the air circled the moonstone but didn’t touch it. I watched breathlessly as the stones first touched and then enveloped the moonstone. The mist circled faster. Uncle Conrad’s dark words became a crude counterbalance to the lyrical chants that flowed around the room. The darkness of the stones intensified, first shrouding the moonstone and then cutting off its light entirely.
The moment the pieces joined to form a complete circle, a giant crack appeared in front of Conrad. It looked as though a knife had been drawn across the air on the other side of the table. Gasps sounded through the corridor when a huge, pale, clawed hand reached through. A second hand appeared. The claws grabbed the edges of the crack. A tearing sound followed as the claws forced the crack wider. Students held their ears and others cried at the echoing, screeching noise. It felt as though the sound came from inside of my head as well as outside.
Horns, another set of clawed hands, and then a snout of needle-like teeth followed.
I could only stare as Chutka the Shambler forced the crack wide open and then stepped into our world.
Massive black hooves bigger than my head met the marble floor in a shower of sparks. My eyes moved up to a long, lashing tail that sliced through the air with the hiss of a whip. Massive, thick black leathery wings dragged against the floor. The Demon Prince wore the darkness around him like a cloak. It writhed and moved as though it was a living creature. Curled horns swept back from a pale fo
rehead that looked as though it had never seen the light of day. Eyes set deep above the dragon-like snout searched the room before landing on my uncle.
A snort of amusement escaped Chutka the Shambler. The Demon Prince straightened up to his full height so that he towered far above Uncle Conrad.
“I didn’t think you had it in you to bring me here.” Chutka’s voice felt like claws inside my ears. “I underestimated your loyalty.”
When he chuckled, I reached up and was amazed to find that my ears weren’t bleeding.
Chutka’s eyes shifted from Uncle Conrad to the students and professors surrounding him.
“Pets, attack,” the Demon Prince said casually.
A tearing sound heralded the demons as they burst through the unicorn painting. Students screamed and professors moved to bar their path. The demons’ grins showed their anticipation at the slaughter. Green fire bubbled from their jaws and spilled onto the ground. The cries of fear the students gave made the demons even more excited. They surged forward.
A crash sounded from the hall of many doors. I glanced over my shoulder just as a purple and black form streaked past my face, followed by an orange and black one, a yellow and green one, and then a hundred more so fast they were a blur. But my eyes stayed with the black and purple form.
Sparrow fanned her wings backwards just before she reached the first demon. A puff of blue flame spouted from her muzzle toward the creature. When it hit the demon’s face, the creature’s flame sputtered and went out. The demon yelped and back peddled. Sparrow let out a hiss. The other sylph dragons attacked, swarming the demons like a rush of angry hornets. The demons yelped and scrambled over each other in an effort to get away. The dragons pursued them through the torn photograph. Yowls and cries of pain followed the dragons’ flight.
My relief at seeing Sparrow safe vanished at the sound of the Demon Prince’s voice.
“Pests,” Chutka growled. “Vermin!” He lifted his hands and grew bigger as we watched, towering above all of the students in the room. Around me, students cringed and cowered away from the Demon Prince. Their chanting became sporadic and the shield that protected them faltered.
“The shield!” Alden said before I could tell them. “Don’t let it fall!”