by Lori Woods
“Bound part? What bound part?” I frown.
“The part that’s tied up in binder twine.”
I look at her. “What are you talking about?”
“At the end of the book. Don’t you see?”
“Oh, my goodness! How did I miss that?”
There are just a few pages that are located at the end of the book. Easy to miss, I think. Quickly, I untie the twine and open the book to the first page that was bound. The heading reads, Rare and Very Dangerous Creatures. “Oh, gracious,” I say as I turn to Snowball. “This very well may tell us what the creatures are.”
As I quickly scan the page in front of me, Malcolm moves to look over my shoulder. The picture is of a berserker.
Suddenly, there’s a loud sound—halfway between a wail and a scream. It’s Malcolm, and his face is whiter than ever—if that’s even possible.
“Malcolm!” I shout. “What’s the matter?”
“Berserker! No, no berserker! No, no, no!” He leaps toward the wall and disappears.
“Wonder what brought that on?” I say to Snowball.
“He acted like he’d just seen a ghost!”
What would a ghost have against a berserker? I know they can bite through steel, but what has that got to do with harming a ghost? I read down below the picture. “Oh goodness, Snowball. They are the only beings that can eat a ghost.” I continue to read. “Their bodies are impenetrable by magic. It says a ghost can’t pass through them and if eaten, they’re trapped in their bellies.” I shake my head at Snowball. “No wonder he and Aubrey are afraid of berserkers.”
“Malcolm! Come back! It’s only a picture!”
He appears as suddenly as he vanished.
“You almost gave me a heart attack!” Malcolm says.
“Really, a heart attack. Isn’t that a knife sticking out of your chest?” I ask, shaking my head at him. “Malcolm, you only die once.”
“On to the next page. I don’t want to see the berserker,” Malcolm says.
“Here it is, Snowball!” I show her a picture of a faceless being that only resembles human beings in that it has a head, two arms, and two legs. But the photo looks just like the creatures that attacked me. “This is it, Snowball,” I say. “I found it.”
“Hmm, but only with my help.”
I laugh. “Yes, with your help.” She leaps off the table, and I look down at her. “The caption labels the creature a Doppelganger.”
I read the entry. “It says, ‘In their natural state, Doppelgangers live in moors.’”
“Uh-oh!” Snowball says.
“Yeah,” I answer. “It seems most of the bad creatures in Hemlock live in the moor.”
“What else does the book say?”
I look at the entry again and start to read. “Ah-ha!” I say.
“Ah-ha is an interesting statement.” Snowball says with a dry tone. “But you have to admit it doesn’t tell me very much.”
I read aloud, “Doppelgangers assume the appearance of others—human beings, to be precise.”
“But what happens to the original?”
“Let me see what it says.” I read a little further down the page. “Oh no!”
“What is it?”
“All they have to do to look like a particular human being is to touch the person. Then they can project an illusion that duplicates the original person.”
I scan the rest of the entry. “Wow!”
“Ah-ha, wow, yikes, yippee ding! Come on, Suzy, get real and stop talking nonsense.”
“All right. All right.” I look Snowball in the eyes. “You’re so impatient in this life; I wonder how you’re going to make it through all nine of your lives.”
“Harrumph!” Snowball turns her back and returns to licking her paw.
“Okay, okay,” I tell her. “When a Doppelganger touches someone, the person faints.”
“Then it’s easy to get rid of them since they can’t fight back,” Snowball says and looks at me. “They certainly have all the advantages, don’t they?”
“But what do they do with the people they impersonate?” I say. “If they did any harm to Alfie, I’ll…well, I don’t know exactly what I’ll do, but it won’t be pleasant.”
“And I’ll scratch out their eyes.”
“They don’t have any, remember?”
“There is that problem, isn’t there?” Snowball frowns.
“They often imprison the people they impersonate in the hollowed-out roots of giant trees if they are away from the moor; otherwise they keep them in a hollowed-out mushroom.”
“So the people must regain consciousness.”
“Sooner or later, yes, but the Doppelgangers keep the victims bound and blindfolded. Ah, this is good, to some extent—they always feed their captives the same thing they eat.”
“Nice of them,” Snowball says sarcastically. “And what, pray tell, do Doppelgangers eat?
“It seems they usually eat mushroom gruel…but prefer human food.”
“Oh yuck and double yuck.” She shakes her head and spits.
“That’s quite a reaction,” I say.
“Even the thought makes me nauseated.”
“To each his own,” I say. “The creatures must eat the gruel or starve, I guess.”
“No more, Suzy. No more.” She glances at me. “Unless you want to clean up a mess. Poor Alfie. Mushroom gruel instead of duck berry pie!”
I give her a stern look. “Okay,” I say. “That’s it for tonight. I know it’s early, but I’m going to bed. Tomorrow, we’ll try to do something about all this.”
“Cats are nocturnal creatures, you know! I’m not ready for bed.”
“Stay up all night by yourself and dream about Doppelgangers and mushroom gruel. See if I care,” I tell her.
“Suzy?”
“Yes, Snowball?”
“Do Doppelgangers ever pretend to be cats?”
“I don’t know, Snowball.”
“I changed my mind. I’m going to go to bed with you and snuggle.”
CHAPTER 14
“O kay. I’m ready to do battle today, Snowball,” I say, taking my backpack off the back of the dining room chair where I left it last night. “But you have to stay home with Malcolm today.”
“Find Alfie,” Snowball replies, not protesting my decision to leave her at home. “Tell him we have an extra-large duck berry pie waiting for him.”
I start to put the backpack on, but stop. “Maybe I should wear the glasses!” But I don’t see them! I dig through my books and school supplies. Then, in a panic, I dump everything out onto the table.
“What’s the matter?” Snowball asks.
“They are gone!”
“What’s gone?” Snowball asks.
“The glasses!” I say frantically. “I’m sure I put them in my backpack. I know I did!”
“They are not my size,” Snowball says.
“Snowball, this is serious!” I say, giving her a scolding glance. “Malcolm!”
The old ghost appears beside me immediately. “Can never sleep late around here,” he says, stretching.
“Don’t give me that nonsense! I know you don’t sleep,” I say sternly. “My glasses are gone. Have you seen them?”
Malcolm reaches in and turns his pockets inside out. “Not here!”
I count to ten. “Did you see anyone come into the apartment last night?” I ask as calmly as I can muster.
“Nope! I didn’t see anyone. But I did hear a noise. I popped in to see who it was but—nobody. Must have been a mouse. Would be nice to have a cat that was a good mouser,” he adds, glancing down at Snowball.
“Must I say the word berserker?” Snowball asks innocently.
“Eeeeeiiiiikkkk,” Malcolm shouts and vanishes into the wall.
“Malcolm, get back here or I’ll plaster pictures of berserkers all over the walls.”
“Suzy, what a nasty thing to say to a friendly ghost.”
“You are a little too old for Casper th
e friendly ghost,” I say without thinking.
“Casper the friendly ghost!” Never heard of him. “Where is he?”
“Never mind, Malcolm. You said you heard something. Could it have been someone entering the apartment?”
“I came out and looked. I didn’t see anything.”
“Do ghosts ever need glasses?” Snowball asks in her purring voice.
“Now I can’t tell who is taken over by Doppelgangers. I’m in a fix!” I say as I pace up and down in the kitchen.
“Suzy, you’ll think of something. You always do.”
“Thanks, Malcolm, that’s reassuring.”
“He’s only saying that to get himself off the hook,” Snowballs says.
“No, Snowball, he’s right. I have to figure it out on my own without the glasses.” I stuff everything into my backpack. “I’m going to visit Ima Brewer. I know she’s not taken over. Maybe she can help me locate the others, if there are any more, but at this point in time I don’t have any proof that anyone else has been impersonated besides Alfie and Malcolm’s wife. However, I seriously think there might be others.”
Snowball glances up from licking her favorite paw. “Let me know what you find out,” she says in a very disinterested voice.
On that note, I head for the stairs. It’s a pleasure not to have to confront the thing I thought was Mrs. Simpson. And I’m glad it wasn’t Malcolm’s wife as I was beginning to feel sorry for him having been married so many years to such a hag.
At school, I walk past several teachers hurrying to their classrooms. I can’t help but wonder if they are real, or a Doppelganger illusion. As I head up the stairs, I remember that the book said that the Doppelgangers keep their captives in a root cellar, usually under an oak tree. The park! That’s where they have Alfie. No one would think twice of anyone visiting the park often. Yes, perfect hiding place. Wow, the creatures are more cunning that I thought.
I hardly notice that I’m passing Red Sumac’s classroom until she calls out to me.
“Suzy, come in. I need to ask you some question about that wicked broomstick you carry,” she says, nodding her head down to Broom Hilda. “You never leave home without it.”
I stop and look at Red. She knows Broom Hilda is a Salem broomstick.
“Come in. It will only take a moment, dear.”
She was attacked by the Doppelgangers while I was fleeing from the pixies. Rats! She has been taken over! She’s one of them.
“Red, I have to see Ima on urgent business. I’ll be right back, and we can chat as long as you wish,” I say as I walk away.
“Don’t be long. It is very important,” Red calls out eagerly.
I walk faster. Ima is outside her door.
“What’s wrong, Suzy? Is the devil after you?”
“Something like that. May I come in? I have to talk to you in private.”
“If it is about extra credits, don’t waste your time. I don’t do extra credits,” Ima says, giving me a stern look.
“Heavens no. It’s nothing like that!” I reply.
“Then come in but I have only a little time before my next class.” She steps aside, allowing me inside the room. “Well, what’s so important that it’s got you almost running into my classroom?”
I get straight to the point. “Ima, have you ever heard of Doppelgangers?”
“Not in years. Don’t tell me there’s a nest of those awful creatures in Bellow Moor!”
“It’s worse than that.”
“Don’t tell me they are impersonating people here in Hemlock?”
“Well, I hate to tell you, but yes, it’s true!” I say with a sigh of relief that someone believes me.
“And you know this how? It is difficult to break their illusion.”
“Polly’s glasses,” I say with a small smile.
“But they were broken. In fact, smashed to bits!”
“I created a spell to repair them. Actually, I altered a spell to repair a drinking glass and used it to put the glasses back together,” I tell her.
Ima arches her eyebrows. “I’m impressed, Suzy. I have underestimated you.” She draws her brows together. “And I didn’t realize that Polly was wearing true view glasses. You know it takes an entire coven to brew a new pair?”
“Thanks, I guess I’m a late bloomer. Anyway, I need help sorting out who is a Doppelganger and who is real. I need help.”
“I’m not the one to help. I couldn’t tell a Doppelganger from a donut.”
“Rats!”
“Let me finish. But I do know someone who can help. He’s had experience with the cunning creatures when he was living in Poison Oaks.”
“Who? Who!” I ask eagerly.
“Why, the headmaster, of course. He ferreted out a nest of the creatures living in Soggy Moor near Poison Oaks. He found a spell that can strip away their illusion and expose them for what they are.”
“The headmaster,” I say slowly as though the words don’t want to come out of my mouth.
“Yes, that’s what I said. The headmaster.”
“Well, it’s just that I’m not his favorite student. He almost expelled me.”
“Yes, and I’m sorry about that. I just thought that you weren’t cut out to be a full-fledged witch. Sorry I misjudged you.”
I smile weakly. “That’s okay. Sometimes I also think that I’m not up to being a real witch.”
“Go see him. He will know how to handle the nest of Doppelganger,” Ima says and then nods toward the door where little witches are lined up to enter. I thank Ima and make my way out of the classroom.
“Hello.”
I turn around and see Matt.
“Following me again?” I ask.
“No, just going in the same direction.”
“What, to see the headmaster?”
“Yeah, I’m failing wand class. I’m conjuring up spells that are too strong. Almost burned the Academy down making a fireball,” he says, pointing to his hair, which is badly singed.
“You go ahead and see him first. I might be a while with him,” I say.
He starts to walk away.
“Why were you going to meet Polly in the basement the day she was killed?” I suddenly demand.
Matt stops as though he had walked into a brick wall.
“Look,” I say, “I know you didn’t kill Polly. But I need to know why you were going to meet her?”
“How did you know I was supposed to meet Polly?”
“I heard your girlfriend telling another person you were meeting her.”
“She’s not my girlfriend, and she’s always running her big mouth. I can’t tell her anything.”
“Whatever; just tell me why you were going to meet Polly?”
“She told me she knew how I could keep from getting expelled from school. She knew I was having problems in wand class. She said she had something she would let me borrow that would prevent me from getting expelled.”
“What was she going to give you?” I ask.
“I don’t have the foggiest of ideas. Maybe she just wanted to get me alone in the basement.” He flashes a big smile. “Most girls think I’m handsome.”
I don’t comment on the statement. Instead, I motion toward the headmaster’s office. “You first.”
“Yeah, right. He told me it was urgent,” Matt says as he hurries away.
I watch him disappear into the office, thinking I have a long wait ahead of me. The pieces of the puzzle of who killed Polly are all on the table. Now all I have to do is fit them together, but it’s as though I can’t seem to locate the right piece to start.
“Your turn!” Matt says angrily as he walks fast past me.
“That was quick,” I say.
“Expelled!” he replies furiously.
“Well, since the headmaster expelled someone he should be in a good mood,” I mumble as I knock lightly on his door.
“Come in, come in.”
He sounds cheerful, I think as I open the door.
He
is sitting behind his impressive oak desk, but gets up when he sees me.
“Suzy, just the one I wanted to see,” he says and actually smiles. “And I see you decided not to wear those horrid glasses.”
“That decision was sort of made for me,” I reply.
“Well, someone did you a favor. And I have a big favor to ask of you.”
“A favor?” I ask, smiling.
“You know that an old vampire cleans the Academy?”
“Yes, but I’ve never seen him,” I say, suddenly thinking about Val.
“Few do as he only works at night. Vamps hate daylight. Anyway, what I wanted to ask you is would you get your broomstick to sweep my closet. For some reason, he won’t go into my closet. I think it has a smell that vamps detest. I just haven’t taken the time to figure out what it is.”
I’m holding Broom Hilda and instinctively know she doesn’t want to sweep his closet. I’m not sure why as she never protests when I ask her to sweep the apartment. “Please do it for me, Broom Hilda,” I say. She moves her straw brush to let me know she agrees. I walk over to what I think is the closet and reach for the door.
“No. No. That’s the bathroom! It’s the other door,” the headmaster says, almost in a panic.
“Okay,” I say, somewhat taken aback by his reaction. I mean I’ve been in many a bathroom. What’s to see, right? But I don’t show any reaction. I’m here to get his help and have to play nice. I open the door and put Broom Hilda inside.
“Would you be so kind as to close the door, Suzy?” the headmaster asks. “I’m allergic to dust.”
“Sure, don’t want you sneezing,” I say and close the closet door.
“Have you got a kitchen in here? Smells like you’ve been baking vanilla cookies,” I say.
“No, just a small cauldron over the fireplace,” he replies.
Suddenly I realize that’s the piece of the puzzle I need to start putting it together.
“You suddenly look different!” the headmaster says and smiles, but it’s not a friendly sort of smile.”
“Just thinking.” I say, looking toward the closet. But the headmaster is suddenly between the closet door and me. I turn and edge toward the door to the hall.
“I thought you were here to talk to me about something?”
“Oh, it can wait. I just remembered Red wanted to talk to me urgently,” I say as I open the door. “Rats!”