Authors: Terry Brooks
Ben felt the heat of the two costumes he was wearing turn his back and underarms damp.
So far, so good, he thought.
Willow tapped lightly on Elizabeth's bedroom door and waited. Almost immediately, the door was opened by a small clown with frizzy orange hair, a white face, and an enormous red nose. “Oh, Willow!” Elizabeth whispered, grasping her hand and pulling her urgently inside. “It's all going wrong!”
Willow took her shoulders gently. “What's going wrong, Elizabeth?”
“Abernathy! He's all… strange! I went down to the cellars this afternoon after school to see if he was all right —you know, to make certain he was still there. I know I probably shouldn't have, but I was worried, Willow!” The
words practically tumbled over one another. “I sneaked out of my room. I made sure no one saw me, then went down through the passage in the walls to the cellars. Abernathy was there, locked in one of those cages, all chained up! Oh, Willow, he looked so sad! He looked all ragged and dirty. I whispered to him, called to him, but he didn't seem to know who I was. He just… he sounded like he couldn't talk right! He said a bunch of stuff that didn't make any sense and he couldn't seem to sit up or move or anything!”
The blue eyes glistened with tears. “Willow, he's so sick! I don't know if he can even walk!”
Willow felt a mix of fear and uncertainty wash through her, but she forced it quickly away. “Do not be afraid, Elizabeth,”she said firmly. “Show me where he is. It will be all right.”
They slipped from the room into the empty hall, the tiny clown and the emerald fairy. An old clock ticked in the silence from one end, and the sound of very distant voices echoed faintly. Elizabeth took Willow to a cluttered broom closet. Closing the door behind them, she produced a flashlight, then spent a few seconds pushing at the back wall until a section of it swung open. Silently, they went down the stairs that lay beyond, navigating through several twists and turns, two landings, and one short tunnel, until at last they reached another section of wall, this one with a rusted iron handle fixed to it.
“He's right through here!” Elizabeth whispered.
She took hold of the handle and pulled. The wall eased back, and the rush of stale, fetid air caused Willow to gasp. Nausea washed through her, but she swallowed against it and waited for the feeling to pass.
“Willow, are you all right?” Elizabeth asked urgently, her brightly colored clown's face bent close.
“Yes, Elizabeth,”Willow whispered. She couldn't give in now. Just a little longer, she promised herself. Just a little.
She peered through the opening in the wall. Cages lined a passageway, shadowed cells of rock and iron bars. There was movement in one. Something lay there twitching.
“That's Abernathy!” Elizabeth confirmed in a small, frightened voice.
Willow took a moment longer to check the corridor beyond for other signs of movement. There were none. “Are there guards?” she asked softly.
Elizabeth pointed. “Down there, beyond that door. Just one, usually.”
Willow pushed her way out into the cellar passage, feeling the nausea and weakness surge through her once more. She went to the cage that held Abernathy and peered in. The dog lay on a pile of straw, his fur matted and soiled, his clothes torn. He had been sick, and the discharge clung to him. He smelled awful. There was a chain fastened about his neck.
The medallion hung there as well.
Abernathy was mumbling incoherently. He was talking about everything and nothing all at once, his speech slurred, his words fragments of witless chatter. He has been drugged, Willow thought.
Elizabeth was handing her something. “This is the key to the cage door, Willow,”she whispered. She looked very frightened. “I don't know if it fits the chain on his neck!”
Her clown nose fell off, and she picked it up hurriedly and pushed it back into place. Willow took the key from her and started to insert it into the cage door lock.
It was at that same moment that they heard the latch on the door at the end of the corridor begin to turn.
Michel Ard Rhi came down the front hallway past the entry and paused momentarily as he saw the gorilla and the shaggy dog sitting there on the waiting bench. It was apparent that he wasn't sure what to make of them. He
looked at them, and they looked back. No one said anything.
Ben held his breath and waited. He could feel Miles go rigid beside him. Suddenly, Michel seemed to realize what they were doing there. “Oh, yes,”he said. “The Halloween party at the school. You must be here for Elizabeth.”
A phone rang somewhere down the hall.
Michel hesitated, as if he might say something more, then turned and walked away quickly to answer it. The shaggy dog and the gorilla glanced at each other in silent relief.
The guard pushed his way wearily through the cellar door and came down the corridor of iron cages, boots clumping heavily on the stone block. He was dressed in black and wore an automatic weapon and a ring of keys at his belt. Elizabeth shrank further into the darkness behind the hidden section of wall where she was concealed, peering out through the tiny crack she had left open.
Willow was still out there in the corridor. But where? Why couldn't she see her?
She watched the guard pause at Abernathy's cage, check the door perfunctorily to make certain it was locked, then turn and walk back again the way he had come. As he passed her hiding place, the keys at his belt suddenly came free. Elizabeth blinked in disbelief. The snap that held them seemed to loosen of its own accord and all at once the keys were gone. The guard completed his walk down the corridor, pushed back through the metal door, and disappeared.
Elizabeth slipped quickly from her hiding place. “Willow!” she called in a muffled hiss.
The sylph appeared out of nowhere at her side, the ring of keys in one hand. “Hurry, now,”she whispered. “We do not have much time.”
They went back to Abernathy's cage, and Willow
opened the door with the key Elizabeth had given her earlier. They hastened inside, moving to the incoherent dog and kneeling beside him. Willow bent close. The scribe's eyes were dilated and his breathing was rapid. When she tried to lift him, he sagged helplessly against her.
A moment of panic seized her. He was far too heavy for her to carry—far too heavy even if Elizabeth helped. She had to find a way to bring him out of his stupor.
“Try these until you find one that fits,”she told Elizabeth, handing her the key ring.
Elizabeth went to work with the keys, trying one after another in the lock of the neck chain. Willow rubbed Abernathy's paws, then his head. Nothing seemed to help. Her panic deepened. She had to bring Ben down. But she knew, even as she considered the idea, that it wasn't possible. The plan wouldn't work with Ben down here. Besides, there simply wasn't time.
Finally, she did the only thing she could think to do to help the dog. She used her fairy magic. She was so weak that she had little to command, but she called up what she had. She placed her hands on Abernathy's head, closed her eyes in concentration, and drew the poison out of his system and into her own. It entered her in a rush, a vile fluid, and she worked desperately to negate its effects on her own body. She was not strong enough. It was too much for her. Some of it broke through her defenses and began to sicken further her already weakened system. Nausea mingled with pain. She shuddered and wrenched herself away, vomiting into the straw.
“Willow, Willow!” she heard Elizabeth cry out in fear. “Please, don't be sick!”
The little clown's face was pressed up against her own, whispering urgently, crying. Willow blinked. The red nose was gone again, she thought, distracted. She couldn't seem to organize her thoughts. Everything was drifting.
Then suddenly, miraculously, she heard Abernathy say,
“Willow? What are you doing here?” And she knew it was going to be all right.
It was only after they were back in the passageway, safely clear of the cages, that Elizabeth rubbed her face where the clown's nose should have been and realized she had lost it. Panic gripped her. She must have dropped it while they were freeing Abernathy. It would certainly be found. She thought about stopping, then decided not to. It was too late to do anything now. Willow was too weak to go back and would never let Elizabeth return alone. She bit her tongue and concentrated on the task at hand, shining the flashlight's thin beam on the stairs ahead as they climbed toward the broom closet. Willow and Abernathy followed a few steps behind, hanging on to each other for support, both of them looking as if they would collapse with every step.
“Just a little farther,”Elizabeth kept whispering to encourage them, but neither replied.
They reached the landing to the broom closet, worked the wall section open, and pushed inside. Willow's pale face was bright with perspiration, and she seemed to be having trouble focusing. “It is all right, Elizabeth,”she assured the little girl, seeing the look of worry in her eyes, but Elizabeth was no fool and could clearly see that it was definitely not all right.
When they were finally back inside Elizabeth's room, the little girl and Willow worked hurriedly on Abernathy, combing his matted fur, cleaning him up as best they could. They tried to strip off his ruined clothes, but he protested so vehemently about being left naked that they finally agreed to let him keep the half pants and boots. It wasn't what Ben had wanted, but Willow was too tired to argue. She could feel herself withering a bit more with the passing of every second.
She surprised herself though. She wasn't as frightened of dying as she had imagined she would be.
The hall phone rang for what seemed to Ben and Miles an interminable length of time before the doorman appeared to answer it. There was a brief conversation, and then the doorman hung up and said to them, “Miss Elizabeth said to tell you that she would be right down.”
“Finally!” Miles breathed in a hushed voice.
The doorman lingered a moment, then walked away again.
“I'm going out now,”Ben whispered. “Remember what to do.”
He rose and disappeared silently through the front door. He went down the front steps and got into the car. There, he stripped away the dog suit, straightened the costume beneath, and slipped a new mask into place. Then he got out again and went back inside.
The doorman was just returning. He frowned on seeing the gorilla now sitting in the company of a skeleton. “This is Mr. Andrews,”Miles said quickly. “He was waiting in the car, but he got tired. Mr. Barker went upstairs to help his wife with Elizabeth.”
The doorman nodded absently, still staring at Ben. He appeared to be on the verge of saying something when Elizabeth, the green lady, and the shaggy dog came down the stairway. The green lady did not look well at all.
“All set, John,”Elizabeth said brightly to the doorman. She was carrying a small overnight bag. “We have to hurry. By the way, I forgot. I'm spending the night with Nita Coles. Tell Michel, will you? ‘Bye.”
The doorman smiled faintly and said good-bye. The bunch of them, the gorilla, the skeleton, the green lady, the shaggy dog, and Elizabeth went out the door quickly and were gone.
The doorman stared after them thoughtfully. Had the shaggy dog been wearing pants when he came in?
By the time Ben Holiday pulled the rental car into the parking lot of Franklin Elementary, there were miniature witches, werewolves, ghosts, devils, punk rockers, and assorted other horrors arriving from everywhere, all dashing from their cars to the shelter of the lighted school as if truly possessed. The rain was still falling heavily. There were going to be more than a few disappointed trick-or-treaters this night.
Ben turned the wheel into the curb and put the gearshift into park. He looked over at Elizabeth seated next to him. “Time to go, kiddo.”
Elizabeth nodded, somehow managing to look sad even with the painted happy face. “I wish I could go with you.”
“Not this time, honey,”Ben smiled. “You know what to do now, don't you—after the party?”
“Sure. I go home with Nita and her parents and stay there until my dad comes for me.”She sounded sad, too.
“Right. Mr. Bennett will see to it that he finds out what has happened to you. Whatever happens, don't go back to the castle. Okay?”
“Okay. Good-bye, Ben. Good-bye, Willow.”She turned to Willow, seated next to her, and gave the sylph a long hug and kiss on the cheek. Willow kissed her back and smiled, saying nothing. She was so sick it was hard for her to talk. “Will you be okay?” Elizabeth wanted to know, asking the question hesitantly.
“Yes, Elizabeth.”Willow managed another quick kiss and opened the door. Ben had never seen her this bad, not even when she had been prevented from making the transformation into her namesake that first time she was taken into Abaddon. His patience slipped a notch.
“ ‘Bye, Abernathy,”Elizabeth said to the dog, who was
seated with Miles in the back. She started to say something, stopped, and then said, “I'll miss you.”
Abernathy nodded. “I will miss you, too, Elizabeth.”
Then she was out the door and dashing for the school. Ben waited until she was safely inside, then wheeled the car out of the parking lot and sped quickly back through Woodinville to 522 and turned west.
“High Lord, I cannot thank you enough for coming to rescue me,”Abernathy was saying. “I had given myself up for lost.”
Ben was thinking of Willow and trying hard to keep the car within the speed limit. “I'm sorry this had to happen, Abernathy. Questor is sorry, too. He really is.”
“I find that hard to believe,”the dog declared, sounding very much like his old self. The effect of the drugs had pretty much worn off, and the scribe was more tired than anything. It was Willow who was in trouble now.
Ben eased the speed of the rental car up a notch.
“He was trying to help you, don't forget,”he said.
“He scarcely understands the meaning of the word!” Abernathy huffed. He was quiet a moment. “By the way— here.”He took the chain with the medallion from his own neck, reached across the seatback, and placed it carefully about Ben's. “I feel much better knowing you have this safely back.”