I crawled out of the driver’s compartment, recovered the suitcase, and stuffed its contents back inside. Since the bus door wouldn’t open anymore, I used the sword to break a window so we could climb out.
After pulling Patches free from the wreckage, I breathed deeply while taking in all of Applecross. As the salty sea air filled my lungs, I jumped to the ground with the suitcase in one hand and Patches in the other.
No one seemed to have noticed the crash. Surely, townsfolk as hungry for gossip as Applecross’s citizens would come running at the sight of a double-decker bus grounded on the beach. Something was amiss.
As I examined the town, I realized that all the houses facing the beach had their shutters closed. No one was at the pub, either. And I didn’t see a single person in the streets or at the rectory.
Patches and I walked to town. Outside the church, I called out for Reverend Prospero but received no reply. When neither Mr. Everett nor the McStays appeared at their front doors after I’d knocked, panic took hold of me.
“Help! Help!” Angelica shouted. For once, she and I were thinking the same thing.
Applecross seemed deserted. Have they disappeared? I wondered. Maybe everyone is still asleep?
Whatever the real answer was, I knew Askell was responsible.
“Meb! Meb!” I called from outside her design shop. I wasn’t expecting an answer, so when I didn’t get one, I pushed open the door.
“Meb?” I murmured.
I entered and listened. The refrigerator droned. The faucet dripped. I unsheathed my sword and crept forward as stealthily as I could.
“Meb?” I repeated.
I reached the dripping faucet in the kitchen and turned it off. Everything was in its right place — except for the fact that Meb was gone
I grabbed a pair of pants and a clean shirt for myself and slipped on a pair of shoes that were just a tiny bit too big for me. But they didn’t smell like wet dog and mold, so it was a welcome change.
I found the mate to my Stay-at-Home Suitcase sitting on the sofa. Next to it was a stack of recently opened mail. As I approached the letters, Lightning Launcher’s blade lit up with a faint glow.
I leafed through it. Some letters, bills, a copy of the London Book Review, and some wrapping paper from a recently opened package. The Old Library of Skyle Island was written beneath the sender’s postage stamp.
Strange, I thought. As far as I knew, there was no library on Skyle. The closest thing we had to a library was Mr. Everett’s meager (boring) collection of books. Every once in a while a van visited the school or stopped in the meadow where the campers were, but we had no traditional library anywhere.
“Jules!” I cried out at that point, startling poor Patches. I’d seen our busy postman delivering books to several people just the day before. What could that flurry of book deliveries mean? I wondered.
And there had been a note in Aiby’s diary about books from a library. Had she meant the library on Skyle Island?
“But there’s no library on Skyle,” I repeated to myself.
Angelica flew into a rage. “Oh, isn’t this funny!” she cried. “There is a library, you dumb bunny! And it’s there that they did go! All who dared read were tricked by the foe!”
I stared wide-eyed at that obnoxious puppet. When I finally spoke, I did so through clenched teeth. “Help me understand, Angelica,” I growled. “Are you telling me that you’ve known all along that the meeting of the families was going on at a library on Skyle Island?”
“Of course I knew that!” she crowed. “Everyone does, you dingbat!”
I was so angry I almost couldn’t speak. “Why. Didn’t. You. Tell. Me. That. Right. Away?” I roared.
“Because you didn’t ask, you creep! Besides, twice now you’ve buried me deep!”
“Paaaatches!” I shouted, running out of Meb’s house. “Start digging a hole! And make it deeper this time!”
My interrogation of Angelica about the location of the Old Library lasted for nearly half an hour, but all I got in response were rhymed insults. Only after I held her face to face with Patches and threatened to bury her for a third time did that devil-doll spill the details.
Angelica may have been a children’s toy, but I swear that puppet was pure evil. In any case, she told me exactly where on Skyle the library was located.
“Well, Patches,” I said. “We’re gonna need a boat.”
Lucky for me, my brother Doug was sometimes as predictable as Patches — he always had his motorboat fueled up and ready to go at the dock in front of the Greenlock Pub. When we got there, I untied the boat from the dock, launched it into the sea, hopped on board, started the engine, and zoomed away.
Together Patches and I watched Skyle Island draw near. “Here we come!” I said to my trusty friend.
We reached the shore as the sun began to peak above the mountains. The mountaintops were cast in golden-brown splendor. I pulled Doug’s favorite sunglasses out of the boat’s glove compartment. With his shades on my face and my sword at my waist, I beached the boat on the island’s shore like a movie star.
I cast a long shadow on the beach — and I felt every bit as tall, confident that I would save my friends.
Patches and I climbed up a nearby trail until we reached the main road. From there, we followed a twisting path along the shrubs. Even though it was early morning, there were other people around on Skyle. I heard the engine of a distant car, the honk of a horn, and other normal signs of life — not at all like Applecross had been, which gave me some comfort.
According to Angelica’s instructions, I needed to climb up to an old cottage that was surrounded by trees.
With my dwindling strength, I climbed in the direction she had indicated. Luckily I found it on my first try. The cottage was surrounded by a thick privacy hedge and thorny bushes. Beyond it was a small garden.
The building was made of brick and had white window frames and a blue door. Five windows long and three high, it boasted an array of chimneys on the roof. And, oddly, Jules’s postal van was parked in the front.
Curious, I thought. What was Jules doing here?
I approached the entrance by skulking along the hedges. As I drew closer, I noticed a freshly polished brass plate next to the blue door that read: Old Library.
I tiptoed past the shrubs until I reached one of the corners of the building. Without any difficulty, I skirted along the shortest side, making sure to duck beneath the first window. At the second window, I peered inside and saw a typical Scottish living room: wall-to-wall carpet on the floor, wood paneling on the walls, and standard wooden furniture. Nothing more.
I continued to the large porch in the back. A glass and wood structure sat in the center of a large, beautiful garden. Some benches were scattered among the hedges. A black gazebo and a wooden kiosk were in the distance. Behind them, a little gate led to the countryside.
The most surprising element was the hot-air balloon belonging to the Tiago family. It was secured to the branches of a cherry tree with a few iron anchors. I recognized it because I’d seen it the day the Enchanted Emporium had opened.
“We’re in the right place,” I said.
We stayed hidden among the shrubs, hoping to see someone walk onto the porch. After a long while, no one appeared. So I gathered my courage and crept to the door that led onto the porch. Luckily, it was unlocked.
“Stay here, Patches,” I whispered.
I snuck into the house. The porch had two large wicker couches with white seats. Newspapers, several of which weren’t in English, were strewn across the cushions. The delicate scent of a wisteria plant filled the room. As soon as I set foot on the wood floor, it creaked. I froze. The melody of violins came from the house. It gave me the creeps, though I couldn’t say why.
I risked a couple more steps only to make the floor squeak again. I slipped
behind the couches and slowly moved for cover behind a large vase.
My ears perked up as I heard voices. Male voices. I held my breath and scurried from the porch to the doorway leading to the house. My path to the door was around fifteen feet long with no cover, but I had no other route to take.
After a quick dash I found myself walking across soft, silent, wall-to-wall carpet in a narrow hallway with nowhere to hide. The voices had grown louder and I could pick up a few words now. I passed under some Chinese lanterns.
At the end of the narrow hallway, I found myself in the foyer — in front of the blue door I’d seen from the outside.
Three doors were open. The center door led to the stairs, and I decided against that route right away as I’d had enough of squeaky wooden floors for one day. The voices were coming from the door on the right. Without thinking too much about it, I chose the door on the left. When inside, I crouched down behind some containers overflowing with books. I realized I was in a grand library. It had mauve walls, a big, round mirror, a computer atop an old desk, and heavy curtains drawn across the windows. If someone came in, the only other hiding place was behind a Chinese-style screen.
Partly relieved but still frightened, I was finally able to listen to the conversation taking place in the room opposite from my hiding place. I was certain I recognized the voices speaking: one was that of Professor Edwin Everett, the owner of a gift shop in Applecross. He’d been behaving strangely ever since the Lilys had come to town. I still wasn’t sure if he had something to hide or not, since teachers tend to be a bit eccentric even in the best of times. I’d also previously eavesdropped on his conversations and they were always hard to follow.
That day, Professor Everett’s conversation was crystal clear — especially when I heard Semueld Askell respond.
“Luckily, it’s Sunday, and Jules didn’t make a fuss when I asked for the van,” Professor Everett said.
Askell grunted in response.
“During your morning run, I took a final drive around the houses,” the professor continued. “And I recovered the last dozen or so of the books.”
“All read?” Askell asked.
“Yes, all of them had been read,” the professor answered.
I heard glasses clink together. “To our prisons!” the professor said.
“Don’t celebrate too soon, Everett,” Askell warned. “Not yet.”
“Then when?” Everett asked.
“Soon, very soon,” Askell said soothingly, as though speaking to a child. “After we hear from the Queen of the Others and confirm that everything went as we expected. Indeed, everything has gone better than even our most optimistic predictions, don’t you think?”
“According to my list, we have almost three hundred books that have been read,” Mr. Everett stated. “That is to say, we were able to ensnare about half of the town, including everyone we were interested in: the McStays, McBlacks, and the two McPhees.”
My breath caught in my throat. What happened to my parents? I wondered.
Askell snickered. “I’d call that a success, then, Professor Everett,” he said. “And they say people don’t read anymore. If you want someone to crack open a book, all you have to do is send them a free one!”
“Provided it’s the right book for the right person,” Everett added.
“Oh, of course,” Askell said, laughing. “The Golden Bough for that wild Legba was a brilliant choice.”
“Whereas the last Ulysses Moore book was a great match for the young Moogleys,” Mr. Everett said. He seemed to be reading from a list of book assignments. “Shakespeare’s Tempest for Prospero was wise, too.”
“Especially fitting in that particular case, Mr. Everett,” Askell said. “My compliments. Without your advice I would never have managed to trap them all inside those books.”
That’s what his plan is! I realized. Good thing I trusted my instincts and didn’t open that book. The shimmering Incantevole words that I saw in the mirror would’ve captured me just like the rest.
Just how many have they caught? I wondered.
To my horror, I realized that the boxes I was hiding behind were filled with many volumes bearing the Octobooks seal on their spines. Each book was unique and likely meant to grab the interest of a specific person. It was the perfect trap for any reader.
“You should have seen them, Everett,” Askell continued. “The expressions on their faces when I turned up at the meeting. If you’d seen the Lilys’ reactions — especially Locan! And that dunce, Doug, who wouldn’t stop staring at my ear. We were lucky he was there instead of his brother.”
“Oh?” the professor said. “Why is that?”
“Finley is suspicious,” Askell said. “With him around, it would’ve been much more difficult to make the other guests believe the books were gifts from the Lilys.”
“But you got rid of him for good, right?” the professor asked.
“Correct,” Askell said. “There isn’t a more complicated prison in existence. Whoever tries to escape it goes insane. I give you my word as an Askell, which, as you know, is as good as —”
“False,” Professor Everett interrupted.
“Watch what you say, Everett,” Askell growled. “Our partnership isn’t over yet. Not until we enter the Enchanted Emporium, find and restore the Ark of the Passages, and return it to its rightful owner!”
“Is she here yet?” Everett asked.
“Not yet,” Askell said. “But she won’t be much longer now.” Askell glanced around at the books in the library. “Where are the books with the Lilys and their companions trapped inside?”
“They’re here,” Everett said, presumably pointing at some nearby books. “One, two, and three. The last one was delivered early this morning.”
Meb, I realized.
I heard the sound of several books being tossed aside. “I say let’s start with this one,” Askell said.
“It’s your plan,” the professor said. “I’m just a —”
A sudden buzzing noise interrupted their conversation.
“She’s here,” Askell said, standing. “Get ready!”
They hustled out of their room and headed straight toward me. I dove behind the screen a moment before I would’ve been discovered. Askell stepped into the library, produced his Cloak of Mirrors from a drawer, and set it on the desk next to a laptop.
I flattened myself between the screen and the wall, trying to keep from breathing too loudly — and hoping he couldn’t hear the furious beating of my heart.
The buzzing grew stronger, filling the air with the sound of thousands of tiny, furious wings.
“They’re here!” Askell boomed. He took a white computer cable in his hand and pressed it against — and into! — the mirror on the wall. The reflection in the mirror dissipated, then formed itself into the shape of a face. As the image in the mirror came into focus, I saw a woman’s face. She had dark skin and almond-shaped eyes. Her pupils seemed to change color depending on what she said — or maybe what she thought. I recalled the glasses with the multicolored lenses I’d seen Aiby use …
“Hello, Askell,” said the woman in the mirror.
Askell bowed to return her greeting. “My queen, I’m very pleased to see you,” he said, his voice dripping with regality. “Today’s the great day, finally, when we enter the Enchanted Emporium.”
“We’re going in?” she asked.
“Everett and I will,” Askell said. “And with the Lilys’ blessing.”
“And how can you be sure they’ll let you go in this time?” she asked.
“Because I’ll make them,” Askell said.
“How?” she asked.
“I’ve got the books from Abdul Alhazred’s Burning Library with me,” Askell said. “And I made them read them.”
“You used the library of that crazy firebrand?”
she asked. “And what did you have to promise him in exchange for their use?”
“That’s an agreement between him and me, Imagami,” Askell said. “You needn’t worry about it.”
“And Locan Lily didn’t notice the books were from the Burning Library?” she asked.
“Oh, no, he couldn’t have recognized them,” Askell said. “You see, I altered the books with a silver stamp and a new name: Octobooks.”
The woman smiled. “Quite original, I must admit,” she said.
Askell beamed. “They’re all in those boxes now,” he said. “They’re ready to come with us and assist with the destruction of the Enchanted Emporium. Our plan is simple: First I’ll read a few pages from this.” Askell showed the woman a book. Then he slipped it into a paper bag. “That will free one of the guardians of the Emporium. And when I free them, I’ll ask them for the keys to the Emporium.”
“And if the guardian you release refuses to give them to you?” she asked.
Askell snickered. “I’ll start burning the other books before their eyes,” he said. “Or maybe I’ll tear out the pages, one by one.”
“Evil has a new name: Askell,” the woman said.
Semueld bowed his head, clearly satisfied. “Today I will give you back what was stolen from you,” he stated.
“Rein in your pride, Askell,” she warned. “You’ve said the same thing before and failed. Your Voice of Darkness is strong …”
Askell sneered. “Finley can’t interfere this time,” he said. “Besides, he’s just a child.”
“Once again, I’ve heard these claims from you before,” she said. “But you know by now that the two of you are mirror images of each other, which is cause for concern — and fear.”
Askell snapped something between his hands. The fragments of a crushed computer mouse crumbled to the floor.
“Anger makes you blind, young Askell,” she said. “And it makes you underestimate your adversaries. You’ve used two magical objects from the deepest abyss: Abdul’s Library and the Sunken Castle. Those who look too deeply into the abyss shall find it staring back at them … or into them.”
The Thief of Mirrors: 4 (Enchanted Emporium) Page 10