Always October (12 page)

Gramps scowled but appeared unable to think of a reason to refuse. Lips tight, he said, “I was sittin' at my kitchen table when I heard a big ruckus, lotta shoutin' and stuff. Came out to see what was wrong. Saw you and that other critter runnin' around and felt stupid I didn't bring my shotgun instead of my pickax. Decided to take shelter in that mausoleum, only it was all wacky inside, what with the mist and the light and everything. Didn't wanna go back outside, though, with the two of you still there. I was tryin' to figure things out when Lily here came stumblin' in …”

He shot me a look, as if I had some explaining to do myself … not only to the monster, but to him.

“I heard the ruckus too,” I said quickly. “I came out to see what was going on, just like Grampa.”

Okay, that wasn't strictly true. But I didn't think there was any point in getting into a discussion with my grandfather about why I was outside well before the fuss began. Besides, my brain was buzzing with the idea that Always October, which I had read about in Arthur Doolittle's stories, was actually real—and that we were actually there. I was trembling, and I honestly can't say whether it was from fear or delight.

Gramps picked up the story. “It was not more than a few seconds after Lily showed up before I saw
you
headin' toward us. My only thought then was to get away. So we started to run too.”

“Actually, what we tried to do was press ourselves against the wall,” I put in. “Only it wasn't there!”

“Right,” said Gramps.
“That
was when we started to run. The missing wall was pretty dang weird, but at least we had somewhere to go. We had stopped to catch our breath when you showed up. So that's our story. Now why don't you tell me just what this is all about!” With a squint, he turned to Jacob and added, “Or can you answer that question, boy?”

“I have no idea what's going on,” said Jacob, his fingers tapping against his thumb faster than I'd ever seen before. Turning to Keegel Farzym, he asked, “What are you going to do with us?”

“I wish I knew,” the creature replied. He looked a bit cranky.

“Are you going to kill us?” asked Jacob.

The monster's laugh sounded like rocks dropping on a kettle drum. “If I wanted you to die, I would have left you with Mazrak!”

As if frightened by this, LD called “Jay-Jay!” and reached out for Jacob. To my surprise, the blue monster, who was nearly twice Jacob's height, handed the baby down to him. I could tell that it calmed LD to be in Jacob's arms. Oddly enough, I could see that it also calmed Jacob to cuddle him. I noticed that LD was still clutching his green plastic rattle.

Patting the baby's back, Jacob said, “Why did you bring us here?”

Keegel Farzym raised the shaggy brow that topped his good eye—the action looked like a giant black caterpillar humping up—and said, “We were being chased by a furious monster intent on stealing the baby and probably doing you great harm in the process. Did you have someplace safer in mind?”

Jacob shivered. “Not really. But who are you? Why did you save us?
Did
you save us? Why was that other monster after us?
What is this all about, anyway
?”

The blue monster chuckled at the barrage of questions. Then a serious look crossed his face. His nostrils flared and he stuck out his jaw, displaying his lower fangs, which were about two inches long and glistened in the moonlight. Extending an enormous hand, he said, “I am Keegel Farzym, the High Poet of Always October.”

Jacob hesitated, then shifted LD so he could hold him with his left arm. He stuck out his right hand. “My name is Jacob Doolittle,” he said as his hand disappeared within Keegel Farzym's grip. “Pleased to meet you. I guess. I mean,
am
I pleased to meet you?”

Jacob was blithering. I couldn't blame him. I mean, how often do you have to shake hands with someone who is eight feet tall and blue?

I cleared my throat.

“This is my friend Lily,” said Jacob quickly. “And her grandfather, Gnarly—uh, Mr. Carker.”

Keegel Farzym nodded solemnly and again held out his hand. His knuckles were the size of golf balls and he had rough pads on his palms. Even so, his grip managed to be both firm and gentle. Since he could easily have turned my hand to jelly if he wanted, that was a relief.

That handshake made me feel better about the monster, and about our situation.

He shook my grandfather's hand next. I tried to read Grampa's expression, but his face was blank, not showing fear, or excitement, or … well, not showing anything. I wondered what was going on inside his head.

LD squirmed to be let down. Jacob lowered him gently to the ground, where he began trying to grab the mist.

“As to your question of whether you are pleased to meet me,” said Keegel Farzym to Jacob, “I would hope the answer is yes. Most monsters would consider it a great honor.”

“They would?” asked Jacob.

I kicked his ankle to let him know he sounded more surprised than was polite.

Keegel Farzym nodded solemnly. “Poetry is very important in Always October. I am also the grandfather of Dum Pling, who is a very important child.”

“He is?” asked Jacob and I simultaneously.

I resisted the urge to punch his arm and say “Jinx.”

Jacob narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “How did you know we call the baby Little Dumpling?”

Sounding surprised himself, Keegel Farzym said, “I had no idea what
you
called him. Dum Pling happens to be his name.”

He made it sound like two words, a first name and a last, which made me mad.

“You name your kids things like Dumb?” I asked. I probably sounded sassier than I should have, given the size of the creature I was talking to.

Keegel Farzym shrugged, an oddly human gesture. “In the secret language of monsters,
bob
means ‘the sound of a large dog puking.' This does not make us think that when you name someone Bob, you are calling him dog barf. In our language, the word
dum
means ‘sweet.' The baby's name, translated into your language, means something along the lines of ‘sweet William.'”

I glanced at Little Dumpling. He was squishing mud between his hairy toes and eating a bug.

“So what makes him so important?” demanded my grandfather.

“Are not all babies important?” asked Keegel Farzym. “Does not each carry seeds of possibility that may change the world for good or ill? But in more than most, this is true of Dum Pling, on whose tiny shoulders rests the fate of Always October—and perhaps Humana as well.”

“You keep talkin' about Always October,” said my grandfather. “But that's just a place this kid's grandfather made up for his stories.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Carker, it is a place that Arthur Doolittle
described
for his stories, after he learned about it. And now you are here.” Extending his arms, he said grandly, “
This
is Always October. Here, twilight lasts for half a day, the moon is almost always full, and the sun is rarely seen. It is the home of the folk you call monsters, the place that haunts your dreams at night, the realm that whispers to you when you remember something frightening yet wonderful. In short, it is the world you fear but cannot bear to stay away from.”

Following the sweep of his gesture, I realized that until now I had been too distracted to notice that even in the moonlight the trees were glowing with all the colors of autumn. A carpet of leaves rustled beneath our feet. The smell of fall hung sweetly spicy in the air.

“It's autumnalicious,” I whispered.

Little Dumpling blew a spit bubble and gurgled happily.

Looking at him, Jacob said, “If Little Dumpling is so important to Always October, how did he end up on my doorstep?”

“Ah. Therein lies a tale. And within that tale lies the root of our problem. Come, we have a long way to go before we reach our destination. Walk with me and I will tell you some of it—though the main part must wait until we reach the Council of Poets.”

Scooping up Little Dumpling, Keegel Farzym started out again. Glancing over his shoulder, he said, “Stay with me. And if you value your lives, do
not
stray from the path!”

Jacob, Gramps, and I trotted after him. Thick mist swirled around our legs.

“Isn't this wonderful?” I asked, leaning close to Jacob.

“You're crazier than I thought!” he whispered back. Despite his words I noticed that he was smiling.

Silver moonlight filtered through the branches above us.

An occasional leaf, bright and perfect, fluttered down from the trees.

In the distance, something howled.

I shivered. Without saying anything, Jacob and I moved a bit closer together.

I was as happy as I've ever been in my life.

Despite Keegel Farzym's promise to tell us more, the High Poet said nothing for the next several minutes. Little Dumpling grew restless and squirmy, stretching his arms back for Jacob. Once Jacob was carrying him, he stretched toward me. For the next several minutes Jacob, Keegel Farzym, and I passed the baby around as we walked.

Grampa continued to mutter uneasily.

The path was soggy, but firm enough to keep us out of the surrounding swamp. Sometimes it became too narrow for us to travel side by side, and we would be forced to drop into single file. Usually Grampa went last, but a couple of times Jacob took that position. I could tell, mostly by glancing at his hand to see how his fingers were moving, that being last made him nervous. I think he was terrified some monster might rise from the murky water and grab him from behind … that he might disappear without the rest of us even knowing he was gone.

Jake tended to worry about things like that.

Here in Always October his worries actually made sense.

The full moon shimmered on the dark water and silvered the mist that wound around the twisted trunks of the great trees. An occasional ripple indicated some unknown thing slithering beneath the swamp's surface. Eerie cries sounded in the distance.

“What's making that howling?” asked Jacob from the end of the line.

“Just children playing,” replied our monster guide. “Lovely sound, isn't it?”

“Yes,” I said. “I really like it.”

Twice we crossed paths that twisted away among the trees. They were scary but somehow fascinating. I found myself longing to follow them, to see where they led.

“Don't,” warned Keegel Farzym without even looking back. “Stay with me.”

“How did you know what I was thinking?”

Jacob and I asked the question at the same time. Another jinx moment I had to let pass.

“It was an easy guess,” rumbled the High Poet. “Those paths are woven over with spells to lure you in.”

“Why?” I asked.

Keegel Farzym shrugged. “It differs from path to path. Usually it's because something terrible waits at the other end, hoping to catch the unwary.”

The strip of dry land was wider here, and Jacob moved up beside me. I saw him swallow before he asked, “What
kind
of terrible something?”

“That also differs from path to path,” replied Keegel Farzym softly. “Best not to speak of it, really. Therefore, the last thing I will say on the matter is this: if you should venture onto one of those paths, I cannot protect you.”

“Well, ain't that convenient?” snorted Grampa.

The High Poet shook his shaggy head. “It is ancient law, enshrined in rhyme:

A few minutes later we saw a distant cliff. At the top of the stony height loomed a dark mansion. A single light shone in its tower window.

“What's that?” I asked.

“Cliff House,” replied Keegel Farzym. “It is home to the Library of Nightmares. From topmost tower to deepest dungeon it is a very scary place.”

Jacob leaned close and whispered, “If
this
guy thinks the place is scary, it must be downright terrifying!”

“I know. But doesn't it kind of make you want to go there?”

He sighed and handed me the baby.

A few minutes later we had to go single file again.

A few minutes after that I turned to talk to Jacob.

He was nowhere in sight.