by David Lubar
“Let it go!” I shouted.
Darling ignored me and dragged the fish under my bed. Ewww …
“Dinner,” Mom called from downstairs.
I walked out of the room, eager to get away from the sounds of Darling tearing into the fish. I didn’t eat red meat. I used to eat fish, but after what I’d just seen, I might cross that off my list, too.
I joined Mom, Sebastian, and Rory in the kitchen.
“We’re having spaghetti,” Mom said.
“With meat sauce?” Sebastian asked, grinning at me with a look that told me he’d get even any way he could.
Mom pointed to a pot on the stove. “The sauce is separate.”
“Thanks.” I helped set the table, then got butter from the fridge for my spaghetti.
Sebastian picked up the pot of sauce. “Mooooo,” he said, waving it at me. “Poor little cow goes mooooo.” He put the pot down, lifted the lid, and looked inside. “Oops, can’t go mooooo anymore. Got ground up. Nothing in here but mini-moos.”
“Moooooooo,” Rory said. “Minimoooooooo.”
If Dad were here, he would have stopped Sebastian, but Mom went a lot easier on him.
“That reminds me,” Sebastian said. He opened the fridge and grabbed a carton of milk. “Moooo,” he said again as he poured a glass. “Liquid moooo.” He grinned at me and took a big gulp.
I glared at him.
“Yecchhhh!” he shouted, spitting the mouthful of milk on the floor.
“Sebastian!” Mom shouted.
“It’s sour,” he said after he’d wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
“Let me try,” Rory said, running over to him.
“Oh, man,” Sebastian said. “You don’t want to try this.” He went to the sink and stuck his mouth under the faucet. Then he looked at the carton. “Buttermilk? Oh, man, that was awful.”
“Buttermilk?” Mom said. “I must have picked up the wrong carton at the market. I’m sorry.”
“What a shame,” I said as my smile stretched into a grin. Whether it was a happy accident or a jolt from my witchy power, it seemed like a wonderful punishment. “But you should like buttermilk,” I told Sebastian. “It’s from cows. Mmmmmm, mmmmm, mmmmoooooo.”
“Just shut up,” he said.
“Certainly.” I didn’t say another word about it, but I did giggle once or twice while I ate, and I sipped my juice with great delight.
After we’d cleaned up from dinner, we got a call from Dad. I talked with him when Mom and Rory were done.
“Hi,” I told him. “I miss you.”
“I know, Angel, but I’ll be home Wednesday. And I sent you a surprise. It should be there tomorrow.”
Dad calls me Angel sometimes, but he tries not to do it when anyone else is listening since I’m getting older. But I don’t mind. It makes me feel special. We talked for another minute; then Sebastian grabbed the phone. I stepped away from him before anything could happen.
As I was walking out of the kitchen, the doorbell rang.
“I got it,” I called. I ran to the front door and opened it.
The woman—the beautiful one from the spell shop—was standing on the porch. “There’s been a mistake,” she said. “You have something that belongs to me.”
Sixteen
DINGDONG
Something that belongs to her? I remembered the words I’d read: Power seeks its rightful owner. In a flash of quick thinking, I managed to mutter, “I … uh … ummm … what?”
She smiled. “Relax, child. It was a simple error. She’d promised it to me and then she gave it to you. But this should make things fair.”
She held up a twenty-dollar bill. Was that all my power was worth? I shook my head. “No.”
“All right,” she said. She reached into her pocket and pulled out another twenty-dollar bill. “Surely this is enough.”
“You can’t put a price on it,” I told her.
“But it’s just a book,” she said.
“A book?” I was too relieved to protest. “I’ll be right back.” As I ran up to my room, I wondered how the woman had found me. Then I remembered that Jan had used my last name at the spell shop. We were the only Claypool family in the Lewington phone book. I came back down and handed the book to the woman. She gave me the money.
“Such lovely hair,” she said. She reached out and stroked my hair where it brushed my shoulder, then turned and walked off.
I put the money in my pocket and went up to my room. Forty dollars for a book that hadn’t cost me anything—something wasn’t right. Before I could think things through, the doorbell rang again.
“Angie,” Mom called, “one of your friends is here to see you.”
I ran down the stairs, then skidded to a halt. Never in a million years, except maybe in a million nightmares, would I ever have expected to find May Mellon at my door.
“Uh, hi?” I said. I almost added: Did you change your mind and decide you wanted to beat me up after all?
She jerked her head to the side. For an instant, I thought it was some kind of dreadful twitch. Then I realized she wanted me to come out to the porch. I walked through the doorway, feeling vulnerable. May was big and strong. She was powerful enough to pick me up and throw me off the porch. But I had power, too. That thought made me stand a bit straighter and look her in the eye. “What do you want?”
“Does this match?” she asked.
“What?” I had no idea what she was talking about.
“Does it match!” she shouted, as if my problem had to do with the volume of her words and not the meaning. “You’re supposed to know this stuff.” She pointed at her shirt.
“Oh, your clothes.” Amazing. A few hours ago, she was ready to smash me. Now she wanted my advice. I tried not to flinch as I studied her outfit: jeans, a red belt, and a green shirt with orange flowers on it. “You look fine.” What could I do? I couldn’t tell her she looked like a walking advertisement for Hawaiian Christmas vacations. She’d clobber me for sure.
May nodded, grunted a word that might have been “Thanks,” and walked down the steps. I should have made my escape, but something didn’t seem right. Why was she wondering about her clothes on a Sunday evening?
“May…,” I called after her.
She turned back.
“Do you have a date or something?”
May grinned. “Lance Anderson said that Danny Gleason wanted to buy me a soda at the Burger Pit. I’m supposed to meet him out front by the big plastic burger.” She turned and lumbered off.
Oh, no. I was sure Lance was playing a joke on her. Danny was the cutest boy in the school, and he hung out with the cool crowd. Lance hung with the mean crowd. I wanted to warn May, but I knew she’d never believe me. I went to the living room and sat down.
The second my rear hit the chair, the doorbell rang. It was Miss Chutney. “I came to warn you,” she said. “I believe Elestra is a power-seeker.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Elestra Malacorsa. The instant she saw you in my shop, she knew what you carried. To those who know how to look for power, someone like you shines with the brightness of a star. That’s why I made you leave. And that’s why I gave you the book. You need to know as much as possible about your power. You are in great danger from her.”
“She was just here,” I said. “But she didn’t try to hurt me. She paid me for the book.” I pulled the bills from my pocket and handed them to Miss Chutney. “I guess this is yours.”
She thrust the money back at me. “I don’t want anything of hers.” She rubbed her hands together, as she had in her shop.
“I don’t understand any of this,” I said. “I never asked for power. And now that I have it, I don’t know how to use it.”
“Be patient. The power must find its own path.” She paused, then softly added, “Poor Lucinda. I’ll miss her.”
“Was that the woman who gave me the power?”
Miss Chutney nodded. “We were old friends.” She took a step back and looked
at me. “What I wouldn’t give for such a gift.” She rubbed her hands together again.
“You don’t have any power?”
She shook her head. “No. I’ve been close to it, and studied it all my life, but that is all. I would gladly take it if it were given to me.”
I looked at this kindly old woman as she made those odd gestures with her hands, and suddenly wondered whether I could trust her. Maybe she was the one who wanted my power. “Thanks for telling me all this,” I said. I put my hand on the door.
“Be careful. Elestra is dangerous.”
“I’ll be careful.” I closed the door. But I didn’t walk away. After such a steady stream of visitors, I figured I’d wait to see if there were more. Sure enough, less than a minute later, the doorbell rang.
“My, you’re popular tonight,” Mom called from the kitchen.
“School project,” I called back. I opened the door.
It was Katrina.
“Hi,” I said.
She stared down at her feet. Finally, she looked up and said, “I never thanked you for the other day. I think you saved me. Twice. So thanks.”
“Sure. You’re welcome.” I stood there, not really knowing what else to say.
“Mewrrrr.” Darling came down the steps and joined us.
“I named her Darling,” I said. “I got the idea from you. So I guess I should thank you, too.”
Katrina knelt and petted my cat. Then she stood up and said, “Thanks again.”
“Sure.” As I watched Katrina walk away, I thought about the way she’d rushed toward the park yesterday. Was she the one who should have gotten the power?
I went to my room and put the money from Elestra on my dresser. I still felt funny about keeping it. I knew what Jan would do—she’d run right out and give it to charity. Maybe I’d do that tomorrow. Or maybe I’d spend it on myself.
I sat on my bed and tried to use my power. I rubbed my hands the way I’d seen Miss Chutney rub hers. As I did that, a breeze began to blow through the room. The bills on my dresser fluttered like two birds. Maybe Miss Chutney had lied when she’d told me she didn’t have any power.
I waved my hands in different patterns. Once, when I opened my hand quickly, my closet door flew open. Then, when I clenched my fist, the door slammed shut. I tried to make the door move just by thinking about it. It shook a little, but that was all.
After an hour of experimenting, I was exhausted. Power didn’t come without effort. I got dressed for bed and turned out the light. Darling crawled onto my legs and settled down.
“Good night, Darling,” I said quietly.
“Mereww.”
I started to drift off.
The hissing woke me.
Seventeen
BAD MONEY
I sat up and looked around.
For a moment, I didn’t notice anything unusual. Then I heard the hissing again, like the sound of acid eating through metal. It was coming from my dresser. I flipped on my lamp. Instead of chasing away the terrors of the night, my light revealed them.
The money changed before my eyes. A snake head, filled with dripping fangs and topped with sharp horns, had already grown on each bill. The rest of the bill swelled into a body. Green legs sprouted from the sides. Black claws sprang from the toes.
I wanted to close my eyes and scream, but I knew that if I closed my eyes, I might never open them again. Somewhere inside me, I found the courage to face those monsters.
Darling started to leap at them, but I grabbed her. The creatures looked bigger than she could handle. They crawled toward the front of the dresser. Wings sprouted from the sides of the swollen bodies.
The creatures perched on the edge of the dresser, moving their heads rapidly as if searching for prey. Their tongues slithered in and out, tasting the air. Then, both at the same time, they stared at me and raised their wings. They were ready to leap. I put Darling back on the bed, then held up my fists. This had to work. I focused my attention on the dresser and flung open my fingers. The top drawer flew open so violently that the whole dresser tipped forward. Screaming in frustration, scrambling wildly to hold on, the creatures slid off the edge of the dresser and toppled into the drawer.
Shut, I thought as I closed my fingers, but my concentration was broken by the hissing screams coming from the drawer. I squeezed my fists so hard, I could feel my nails digging into my palms. The drawer stayed open. I tried again. Nothing happened. I could see the creatures trying to climb out.
I leaped from the bed and ran across the room. I slammed the drawer shut and pushed against it with both hands. I heard thumps and crashes against the wood, and felt a series of jolts as the creatures tried to escape. The wood of the drawer started to crack.
I held on. The thumps grew weaker. These creatures weren’t natural. I hoped they couldn’t last long. Whatever they were—they’d been created to do their job quickly. I shuddered as I looked at the claw marks on top of the dresser and thought about what that job was.
I nearly pulled my hands away as I felt a sudden blast of heat. Then everything became quiet.
I was pushing against the dresser so hard that I’d tipped it back toward the wall. My arms and shoulders ached from the effort. Slowly, I stepped away, then reached forward and slid the drawer open an inch.
Silence.
I opened it another inch and looked inside, ready to slam it shut at the first sign of movement.
Two small piles of green dust sat inside, on top of my jewelry box. I took the box out of the drawer and put it on my bed. Darling bent over to sniff at the remains of the creatures. She sneezed, and the dust vanished in a cloud.
“Elestra,” I whispered. She’d given me the money. What would those creatures have done to me if I hadn’t stopped them?
I stared at the spots where the dust had been. I don’t think I would have moved for a long time, but the shattering blast of a train whistle ripped through the room.
Eighteen
POWER AND FURY
I crossed the room and stared at the source of the sound. The mirror on the dresser was fogged. I wiped it with my hand, but the fog remained. It wasn’t on the mirror—it was in the mirror. For an instant, deep within the fog, I saw a large, heavy shape. A train. It crashed into a smaller object. The scene died too quickly for me to tell what was happening. But the sight left me trembling.
“Too much,” I said to Darling as I backed away from the dresser and collapsed on my bed. In seconds, I was asleep.
I felt better in the morning. A ripple of nervousness still gripped my insides, but I felt stronger, too. Sebastian was at the kitchen counter when I went down.
“You still angry?” I asked.
He looked over his shoulder and grinned. “How could I stay mad at my own sister?”
“You sure?”
He nodded.
“Can I ask you something?” I figured he was such a big fan of monsters and horror movies that he might know some useful stuff.
“Anything, dear sister,” he said.
“Thanks, I need to ask you—”
“But first, how about a nice crisp piece of bacon?” As he said that, he whirled and shoved a plate full of fried pig pieces under my nose.
“Quit it.” I pushed his arm away.
Shock.
Sebastian dropped to the floor, turning into a puddle of slimy stuff that looked like spilled oatmeal. True to his nickname, he landed with a splat. The plate hung in the air for an instant. I grabbed it before it could fall. Then I stared down at my slimy brother.
“Giving meat another chance?” Mom asked as she walked into the kitchen.
“Uh, no,” I said, putting down the plate.
“Oh, dear,” Mom said, glancing at the floor. Then, with that amazing acrobatic ability that moms have, she reached out and snatched a handful of paper towels, stooped and wiped up Sebastian, and tossed the towels into the garbage can.
“Oh, good grief…”
Mom gave me a puzzled look as s
he left the kitchen. An instant later, Rory came running in from the living room, carrying his half-empty bowl.
“I’m full,” he said, dumping the rest of the milk and soggy cereal into the garbage can.
He ran out of the kitchen.
I hurried over to the garbage can and stared at the gooey mess. When he’d changed, I’d said, “Quit it.” I needed to reverse it. But I wasn’t sure how to say “quit” backward. I tried, “Tiqua tih.”
Nothing happened.
“Tikwa tih,” I said, starting to feel a tingle of worry.
Nothing.
“Tikuua tih…”
No change. I wondered whether I should scoop Sebastian up and put him in a safe place. Did he need to be refrigerated? This was crazy. I took a deep breath and tried to think calmly. Okay, I asked myself, why wasn’t it working? I’d reversed the words. But I’d only reversed each word by itself—maybe I also needed to reverse the order of the words. “Okay, this will work,” I said. I took a deep breath. “Tih tikwa.”
“Hey!”
Sebastian was standing in the garbage can. Cereal and milk dripped down his face.
He opened his mouth. He pointed at me, his finger trembling with anger. “You—!”
This didn’t look like a good time for a deep discussion of the lore and myths of witchcraft. I grabbed the roll of paper towels and handed it to him. “Here, clean yourself up before Mom sees what a mess you made.”
I snatched a banana for breakfast, got my backpack, and headed to school. When I reached the front lawn of the building, I walked past Lance Anderson and his gang. They were laughing about something. I had a good idea what it was.
“Bet she waited there for hours,” Lance said.
I glared at them, wishing that Lance could feel as bad as May. To him, it was nothing but a joke. To her, it was probably a painful memory that might never heal completely.
The bell rang. Everyone headed toward the building. I glared at Lance. The wind whipped around me, raising a cloud of dust.
No, I thought, realizing I’d unleashed something.
Nineteen
GLUB