“I suppose that’d be fine,” Grandpa said. He looked to Grandma and she nodded.
Clyde pushed his head through the doorway. “I heard there be ah’ problem at TwoSpells today. Damaged somethin’ terrible.”
“Well ya’ heard wrong,” Grandpa scoffed, nudging him back out the door. “Just ah’ wee one is all.”
Clyde limped away, scratching his head, and crawled up into his truck. It backfired as he started it, throwing a blackened noxious cloud from it tailpipe, then rumbled off down the dusty driveway toward town.
Sarah jumped up from the table. “I have something I need to tell you both.”
“What is it child?” Grandma asked, surprised.
Sarah glanced at Jon and then Grandpa. She swallowed hard, taking a long, hard breath. “I think we should give the book back.”
Grandma and Grandpa both smiled. “Aye.”
“Then what are we waiting for? It’s time to break in!” Jon said, sprinting for the door.
“Break in?” Grandma asked.
“Break into Clyde's shack, of course,” Jon replied, grabbing the pickles.
“Wait for me,” Sarah said, following him out the back door and down the steps.
A thick, cool fog hugged the ground as the two of them tiptoed toward Clyde’s room. Sarah looked back and saw her grandparents watching after them from the window.
CHAPTER 24
JON AND SARAH CREPT TOWARD Clyde’s room, Jon carrying the jar of pickles. Lightning arced across the night sky, followed by deep rolling thunder. His shelter was mysteriously quiet, Tornado’s heavy chain running into the murky shadows of his den. As they approached the door, they heard a low growl and faint panting.
“Here, boy,” Jon whispered, “I got your favorite treat.”
“Come on, boy,” Sarah said, clapping her hands a few times. “Come on, good boy!”
There was no response. Just more panting and growling. The kids stopped just short of Tornado’s shelter and listened. A deep, angry snarl made them flinch.
“Tornado, are you all right?” Jon asked, cautiously twisting open the jar. “Come on out, boy.”
Tornado lunged from the den, teeth gnashing and fur bristling. The massive dog knocked Jon down and bounded towards Sarah. Jon tried to stand but stumbled backwards, dropping the jar of pickles in the damp grass. Sarah screamed as Tornado charged her and lost her footing in the grass.
“Run, Jon!” she screamed. “Go!”
Jon ran the opposite direction. “Tornado! Over here!”
It was too late. Tornado latched onto Sarah’s leg, clinging to one foot. She yelped as he started slowly dragging her into his lair. Sarah slapped at his frothing mouth as he tugged and growled savagely.
“Tornado! Let go!” Sarah shrieked, kicking at his head and face with the other foot.
Tornado’s eyes were glazed over, unfazed by her struggling. The harder she kicked, the harder he pulled.
Jon returned, kicking Tornado hard in the ribs several times. “Get off my sister!”
Grandpa heard the commotion and hobbled from the farmhouse, his new staff in hand.
“Hey!” Grandpa shouted, brandishing the warrior staff, but clumsily breaking several potted plants on the porch. “Let go of her!”
Sarah rolled onto her stomach, clawing at the grass as Tornado continued dragging her across the lawn. She ripped handfuls of grass from the yard, trying in vain to keep from being pulled inside.
Jon sprinted back with a large stone and smashed Tornado in the head with it until he released her. Sarah frantically crawled away, dragging her gnarled foot behind her. Tornado growled viciously, took several mighty bounds and grabbed Sarah again, snarling and shaking her foot.
“Help, Grandpa!” Sarah screamed, her voice weakening.
Grandpa slipped, dropping his staff and snatched up the dog’s haunches trying to free her but Tornado’s superior strength easily overwhelmed him.
Sarah’s eyes rolled back, and she felt her fingers slipping. Grandpa lost his battle with the dog, falling face first onto the lawn. Jon rejoined the battle, grabbing her arms and leaning back.
“Jon,” Sarah managed, her vision darkening. “Hel…”
Grandpa clambered towards the pickle jar lying in the grass. Tornado had dragged Sarah and Jon to the entrance of his refuge. In her fading consciousness, she could see the large pile of bones just inside the doorway and the strange sign that read Tornado Abaddon swinging back and forth on a single nail. Jon clung desperately to her limp arms, now slipping from his grip.
“Ya’ dirty dog!” roared Grandpa, charging from behind Jon with the jar of pickles over his head. He thrust it down on Tornado’s head and it shattered, spewing salty brine and pickles across his skull. Tornado released Sarah, stumbling and trying to steady himself. He angrily shook his bloodied head from side to side, pawing at his burning eyes and bouncing off his shelter walls.
“Pull, Jon!” Grandpa yelled, grabbing one of Sarah’s arms and pulling with all his might.
Sarah floundered helplessly as they dragged her away from the doghouse. They were nearly back to the farmhouse when Tornado reappeared at the entrance of his doghouse, growling and baring his huge teeth. Jon and Grandpa quickened their pace, trying to outdistance the chain’s length. Tornado closed the distance in a few leaps and grabbed Sarah’s right foot again. She let out a strained yelp as the tug of war started again.
“Hang on, Jon!” Grandpa bellowed, desperately reaching out with one arm for the staff.
Tornado pulled harder. Grandpa let go of Sarah for a moment to reach his weapon. “Got it!” he exclaimed, wielding it over his head.
But before he could act, Tornado managed to tear the right sneaker from Sarah’s foot and dashed away. He pranced in circles, the sneaker held high in the air as a trophy before gulping it down in a single swallow. He plopped down, satisfied.
Jon tugged her the last few feet out of danger while Grandpa brandished the staff between the dog and Sarah. Grandma was desperately waving at them to come inside.
“Jon! Get your sister ta’ the house!” Grandpa ordered, keeping his eyes on Tornado.
Tornado watched as they closed in on a safe distance and sprang to his feet. He sprinted to the full length of his chain and it jolted him to the ground in a sickening thud of muscle and fur. The heavy timbered walls of the barn shook violently, beginning to crack and fracture.
Jon frantically pulled Sarah to her feet. “Hurry, Grandpa!”
Sarah clung to Jon, limping awkwardly towards the backdoor as Grandpa stood guard. The dog sluggishly got to his feet and staggered back towards his shelter conceding defeat in his tug of war with the chain. He began nervously pacing in front of Clyde’s room, his face soaked in his own blood and brine and snarling when either of them made eye contact with him.
There was a crack of lightning and within minutes a heavy downpour was soaking the farm. Tornado paced defiantly.
Grandma held the backdoor open with a tormented look on her face. “Bloody hell! What happened out there?”
“We may have ta’ put that beast down,” Grandpa grumbled.
Sarah sat down at the kitchen table shaking and holding her foot.
“Let me have ah’ peek at that lassie,” Grandma said, hobbling to the kitchen for a medical kit. “I’ll tend ta’ that me self.”
Sarah whimpered between sobs for her mother.
“What got into Tornado?” Jon asked, holding Sarah’s foot.
Nobody answered. Grandma and Grandpa examined her foot, removing her torn sock and rolling her pant leg up.
Grandpa stared in confusion at the exposed injury, inspecting it closely and scratching his head. “Blimey! Hardly ah’ scratch ta’ be had.”
Sarah looked closer and ran her hands down her exposed skin. She only had a few tiny flesh wounds and minor scratches smeared with dog saliva.
Grandma squinted. “Blimey. Nary ah’ trace!”
Sarah knew that most of those scratches were fro
m the dream. “Maybe he wasn’t really trying to hurt me. Just scare me.”
“I believe ya’ may have somethin’ there,” Grandpa muttered. “It’s the virus at work.”
“Looks like we’re not gonna get that book back tonight,” Grandma said.
Sarah nodded in agreement, looking to Jon for his thoughts. He shrugged his shoulders not sure of what to do either.
“Off ta’ sleep with ya’ then,” Grandma ordered. “No more questions tonight.”
Sarah and Jon took one last look out the kitchen window before going to bed. Tornado was still pacing at chain’s length with a glazed look on his face. Pickles lay strewn about in front of the shelter, untouched among shards of broken glass. Tornado suddenly paused and stared into Sarah’s eyes, baring his teeth. She drew back from the window quickly, leaning against the wall trembling.
CHAPTER 25
A GUNSHOT RANG OUT, waking Sarah from a dead sleep. She sat up in bed trembling. Was she dreaming? No. It was real.
She slipped out from under the covers and tiptoed to her window, pulled the curtains back and peered out into the night searching for an answer.
In the moonlight she could just make out a shadowy figure stooped and struggling with something in front of the barn. She strained her eyes trying to get a better look. The figure suddenly stood and began dragging something large across the barnyard. Clyde. That limp was definitely Clyde.
When he reached his truck, he pulled down the tailgate. He stumbled several times as he wrestled with putting the mass into the back of the truck. He looked around as if he were up to something before tossing his rifle and a shovel in the cab of his truck. He fired up the engine and pulled away slowly without the headlights on. Sarah suddenly realized that something was missing. No barking or whining. Where was Tornado? Her eyes scanned his doghouse but nothing was moving. The chain lay across the grass with no dog in sight.
A light tapping at her door broke the silence.
She crept to the door. “Hello?”
“It’s Jon. Can I come in?”
She cracked the door open and let him in, then closed the door softly behind him.
“Did you hear that gunshot?” Jon whispered.
“Of course,” she replied, walking to the window and drawing back the curtains. “I saw Clyde outside dragging an animal away. I think it was Tornado.”
Jon’s eyes went wide. “Really?”
“Yeah,” she muttered. “And he hauled his body off in the bed of his truck.”
Jon stared into the night, searching for movement. “Oh, man. Oh, man.”
“Why do you think he killed him?” Sarah asked.
“Maybe he attacked Clyde too.”
“Jon can you sleep in here tonight? I’m scared.” Sarah said.
“You big baby,” Jon said, looking around for a sleeping spot and deciding on the foot of her bed. “I guess so.”
It was before dawn when Jon and Sarah crept through the kitchen to sneak out again. She scribbled a quick note to her grandparents and placed it next to the coffee pot. Meanwhile, Jon was stuffing his pockets with tea biscuits.
“In case we get hungry!” he protested, crumbs tumbling from his sugary fingertips. “You’ll be begging me for one later today.”
They eased open the garage door and walked the peddlers out toward the barn as quietly as they could. Sarah wondered if Tornado would overhear them, but remembered Clyde and his rifle.
Sarah pointed across the yard. “Look Jon.”
Clyde’s truck was parked in front of his shack with the tailgate down and a garden hose lying loose behind it. A large puddle of water surrounded the rear tires.
Jon leaned in toward Sarah. “I bet he washed the evidence out of his truck.”
Sarah nodded in agreement and pointed at the red trail leading from the front of the barn doors. She swallowed hard and pedaled away as quickly as she could. Jon followed.
The morning was chilly. A waist-high fog drifted in, slowly creeping across the farm as they turned out onto the road. Sarah could smell a fire burning somewhere. “Do you think the library’s been fixed yet, Jon?”
“You saw how quickly they fixed the farm, didn’t you?”
“I guess so,” Sarah replied, speeding up.
A low howl in the distance echoed across the valley from somewhere behind them. Close.
“I sure—hope that—werewolf isn’t out this morning,” Jon panted as he struggled to keep up with her.
Sarah raised an eyebrow. “What werewolf?”
“You know,” Jon said. “The one we ran over on the way here.”
Sarah grunted, peddling even faster. “Why’d you have to bring that up?”
Jon huffed, trailing behind now. “Just wondering. It’s creepy out here.”
They arrived at the entrance of TwoSpells quicker than expected and stopped to rest.
“Sure could use those hamsters,” Jon said.
Sarah wiped her brow and started up the long drive. “Don’t we wish. Come on.”
But as they rounded the last curve, they saw that the monstrous gates were closed. Set in the middle was the very same mechanical contraption they’d seen before—a marvel of gears and metallic discs, the massive silver sword and golden dragon clutching tightly and ready to pounce. Beneath it all, a large orange sign flashed:
TEMPORARILY CLOSED FOR REPAIRS
Sarah sighed and turned to Jon to tell him they’d wasted their time, but stopped when she heard a loud clank. Suddenly, the gears in the door began to turn and grind. The mechanical marvel’s gears, cogs and shields began to whirl and whine. Steam huffed and puffed, spewing high into the air. Internal pistons pumped and pounded, slowly unlocking, and the colossal iron gates began to rumble. Fountains of hot steam rose above the library wall as the ground began to tremble beneath their feet. The children backed away, awestruck by the gates roaring to life.
The closed sign flickered out and several large outdoor security lights began blinking. Sarah grinned to Jon and peddled to the gates just as the Captain and a small force of security guards stepped out, blocking their entry. The Captain wore the same stern look that she had the day before and ordered her team of K-9 patrols to check the area. The monstrous dogs dragged their masters around the perimeter, snuffling and drooling.
She stepped between the tricycles and grabbed a hold of their handlebars. “If it ain’t the little Princess and Prince of America. What’re ya’ here for, another private tour?”
Sarah scowled. “You’re just an oversized, mean old wit—”
“Sarah! Jon! Good morning to you both,” Liam exclaimed, reaching out with open arms, his entourage of golems in tow.
The Captain groaned, backing away. A tiny doe sprinted across the driveway a short distance from the gates and she gestured to the K-9 teams. The dogs were released and took off after the deer, their barking echoing across the quiet morning foothills.
Sarah glared at the Captain, gritting her teeth. “Why’d you do that?”
“Dogs gotta eat too,” she said with a smirk as she waddled after them.
Liam’s bodyguards instinctively surrounded the perimeter.
“The early bird gets the best stories, right?” Liam said.
“Do you know what those dogs are going to do?” Sarah asked angrily.
Liam looked into the dark orchard, listening to the frenzied dogs for a moment. He drew his wand from his waistband, whispered a good morning into it and then made a simple waving motion. “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. Make the predator the doe.”
Moments later, the dogs burst from the darkness yelping and howling with the tiny doe in hot pursuit. Sarah and Jon smiled at Liam. The Captain followed, shouting obscenities as the dogs circled her in shear panic and knocked her to the ground. Liam stifled a laugh with the back of his hand.
“Let us be off then,” Liam said, taking a bow.
He led them inside with his entourage trailing behind. Overhead, the neon sign sizzled back to life as the gates clos
ed behind them with a progressive clanking of piston locks. Sarah shot Liam a bewildered look.
“A gift to you both,” Liam said. “An entirely personal and private tour.”
Instead of a trip through the four seasons to reach TwoSpells, they only traveled a few hundred yards to reach the Door-of-Doors. It stood just beyond a set of lush manicured gardens full of exquisite statues and colorful shifting spotlights. They jogged to keep up with Liam, who was already on his way up the library steps. Sarah took them two at a time.
At the top, Sarah chose a door designed for a huge patron, stretching her arm to reach the doorknob. Number One lifted her up, where she propped her foot against the adjoining door and twisted the knob hard. With a mighty tug and grunt, the door flung open. The smell of sawdust and metal washed over her. Hammers and chisels clanged, saws swished through lumber, and squeaky wheel-barrels rolled about.
“Wow,” Sarah said, scanning the building. “It looks almost new again!”
Sarah and Jon looked around, astonished at how nearly everything was repaired. Only a few dozen Dwarf and Elfin craftsmen were putting on the final touches.
“Are we the only people allowed in?” Jon asked, darting around the front counter.
“You're the first ones in today. As promised, I've invited the special friends I mentioned,” Liam replied as his earpiece exploded with chatter. He raised a finger excusing himself.
“Thanks,” Sarah said after Liam finished his call. “We're excited to meet them.”
“For now the place is all yours,” Liam said with a smile, leaving their side.
“Wait!” Sarah called after him. “You promised a personal tour!”
“Terribly sorry,” Liam said, frowning. “But we’ve got a security breach somewhere in TwoSpells. Our power grid was shut down for a short time and that concerns our engineers. There’s no explanation for it.”
A boy and girl approached, waving to them.
“Ah! You’ll be getting a much better tour from these two,” Liam said. He gestured to the children. “My friends have arrived. This is Jack and this is Jill.”
TwoSpells Page 16