Falcon Quinn and the Black Mirror (7 page)

Right.

Falcon counted to three, then ran as fast as he could
toward the door, through the pitch-black of his room in the Tower of Aberrations.

Unfortunately the entity was standing directly in his path, and Falcon managed to plow directly into its chest.

The creature roared and screamed as Falcon ran into it. Falcon bounced off its chest and fell backward onto the floor.

Falcon hit his head as he fell, and for a moment he felt like his skull was a large bell that had just been struck loudly with a mallet. Then he sat up on his elbows, looking for the door. He wondered once again whether it might be possible to make a run for it.

The moon came out from behind a cloud at this moment, and in the dim light, Falcon could now discern the monster's features. It was like a bear, only it seemed larger and more hideous than any bear Falcon had seen. Its fur was thick and greasy, and there appeared to be bits of earth or mud clinging to it as well. The four huge legs were tipped with paws the size of catcher's mitts, with a spiky claw at the point of each toe. Worst of all was its enormous head, which seemed to consist almost entirely of an appalling mouth filled with huge, yellow, sharp teeth. Two dull, pitiless eyes looked at Falcon, and in them he could see his own pale reflection even as the creature jumped on Falcon and pinned him to the floor.

The creature put its malicious forepaws on Falcon's
two shoulders and drew its face closer to his. Falcon could feel its hot, horrible breath on his neck now, a breath that smelled of blood and worms and things ripped from the hot belly of the earth. The monster growled again. A long string of saliva fell from its quivery black lips and dripped onto Falcon's cheek.

“Please,” Falcon whispered. “Please?”

Then the thing seemed to take a deep breath. It paused for a second. And then it exhaled into Falcon's face. The last thing he saw was a pale gray cloud coming from the creature's mouth.

Falcon closed his eyes and imagined himself sinking through the cold, black waters of Carrabec Pond. He had a last fleeting memory of Gamm, and of his home in Cold River—its windows shuttered, its doors closed up forever.

F
alcon opened his eyes. “Gamm?” he said.

He looked around his dorm room. There were great, hideous claw marks on the walls. Pieces of a broken chair were all over the floor. The curtains on the window had been shredded, and the stuffing from a pillow seemed to have been scattered in every direction. Falcon's backpack was torn up into five ragged pieces, and his schoolbooks and his coat had also been destroyed, along with the chemistry set and some of the old science equipment.

From the bunk over his head, Falcon heard the sound of someone snoring.

Oh my god,
Falcon thought.
It's asleep.

Quietly he put his feet on the floor, then stood up slowly. The bedsprings creaked. He took a tiny step away from the bed, and the floor groaned beneath his foot. He took another step, and the floorboards squeaked again. From the top bunk, the monster continued to snore.

Falcon tiptoed across the room. He wondered, briefly, what had happened after the thing had breathed on him.
Why hadn't it torn him into little pieces and devoured him, as it had seemed so determined to do? How had he wound up back in his own bed, without a scratch?

He reached the door. There were huge slashes all over it. The claw tracks were filled with what looked like dried blood.

Falcon reached out and touched the doorknob. He felt the chill of the cold metal against his fingers.

“Hello there,” said a small, cheerful voice. “Are you my roommate?”

Falcon paused for a moment, then looked very, very slowly back over his left shoulder.

“Hi! I'm Lincoln Pugh! I come from California. Have you ever been there? They call it the Golden State. Because of the sunshine! I spend a lot of time outside. I've got rickets.”

Falcon blinked. There, sitting up in bed, was a tiny, pale boy with orange hair. He looked six years old. As Falcon watched, the child reached over and put on a pair of glasses. Without question they were the ugliest, dumbest pair of glasses Falcon had ever seen: the frames were rectangular, and enormous, and orange. They dwarfed the rest of Lincoln Pugh's face.

The boy was wearing striped pajamas. Lincoln swung his feet out of bed and jumped onto the floor, then walked over to Falcon and extended his hand. “You
can call me Linky,” he said.

“What?” said Falcon.

“Linky. It's short for Lincoln. What's your name?”

“Falcon. Falcon Quinn?”

Falcon looked at Lincoln's hand for a moment, then grasped it. Lincoln Pugh had the weakest, coldest handshake Falcon had ever experienced. It was like shaking hands with a dead squirrel.

“Looks like we're roommates,” said Lincoln. “Do you play tetherball? I love tetherball. And sudoku puzzles. You ever do those? I love them.”

“I don't play…tetherball,” said Falcon. He looked around the room, at the torn curtains, at the ripped-up clothes and the broken chair. Then he looked back at Lincoln Pugh again.

Lincoln followed Falcon's gaze. “Gee,” he said. “What happened in here?” He looked concerned. “Did
you
make this big mess?”

“No,” said Falcon. “There was a monster—it came in while I was asleep.”

“Oh, now, don't start up with the talk of monsters,” said Lincoln. “My father tried that, and I told him it wasn't acceptable. There are no such things as monsters. You ask me, I know. I have an IQ of one hundred twenty-seven.” Lincoln Pugh looked very proud of himself. “That's high,” he said.

“I think there are monsters,” said Falcon. “This is the Academy for Monsters.”

“Please,” said Lincoln. He went over to the bed and pulled a small orange suitcase out from beneath the bottom bunk. The suitcase was unharmed. Lincoln removed a toothbrush from his case and came back to the door, where Falcon was still standing.

“Please what?”

“Don't start with the monster talk. We all know why we're here. We have issues. I'm not ashamed of it. Of having issues. In a way, it's interesting.”

“Listen,” said Falcon. “There
are
monsters. I wouldn't have said so yesterday, but believe me. There's monsters. That's all they have here is monsters.”

“Fine, whatever,” said Lincoln. “If that makes it easier for you. I, however, am a realist. You might as well know that now. I like to face facts. By the way, where is the bathroom? I would like to brush my teeth. And take medication for my ulcer.”

“You have an ulcer?”

“Oh yes,” said Lincoln. “A big one. Plus rickets.”

“The bathroom is just off the living-room space,” said Falcon. “The parlor.”

The tiny boy went out into the hallway. The door to the girls' room opened at this same moment, and Destynee and Merideath came out.

“This is Merideath and Destynee,” said Falcon. “They're vampires. Supposedly.”

“We
are
so totally vampires,” said Merideath.

“Please don't speak that way,” said Lincoln. “It's demeaning. I know I'm not well. That's why I'm here. To get better. That's why all of us are here.”

“Actually,” said Falcon, “we're here because we're monsters. They're vampires. And you—I think you're some kind of, like, bear. Thing.”

“A werebear?” said Lincoln. He shook his head. “This again.”

“I'm serious,” said Falcon. “Last night you came into my room and tore it into little pieces. Busted up the chair, clawed the wall. You pinned me to the floor and breathed this kind of nasty mist on me. I think you knocked me out with it.”

“Listen,” said Lincoln Pugh. “My father tried to tell these same fairy tales to me. That I changed at night into some sort of creature. I would not listen to him, and I will not listen to you. We need to face the facts! We all have problems, with
reality
. That's why we're here. To accept reality!”

And with that, Lincoln Pugh walked into the bathroom with his toothbrush and closed the door.

Destynee and Merideath stared at Falcon.

“He is definitely some kind of werebear,” said Falcon.
“You should have seen him last night. He trashed the room completely.”

“Him?” said Merideath. “A werebear?”

Destynee was staring at Falcon's face. “Hey,” she said. “What's the story with your eyes, anyway?”

“Yeah,” said Merideath. “Your eyes are weird.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your eyes are two different colors. They're weird.”

“They've always been different colors. I was born this way, okay? It's not my fault!”

“Jeez,” said Merideath. “Somebody got out of the wrong side of the casket today.”

Megan came out of her room wearing a robe. She tried to get into the bathroom, but it was locked.

“Sorry, Megan,” said Merideath. “Falcon's new roommate is in there.”

“Really?” said Megan. “What's he like?”

Merideath rolled her eyes. “He's a werenerd.”

From outside came the roar of an engine. They all moved toward the window, expecting to see the school bus. Instead a beat-up van came lurching down the drive. One of its doors opened, and although the van hadn't really stopped, a young man with rumpled blond hair either jumped or was pushed out. He landed on his feet, turned back toward the van, and yelled something after it as it roared away. Just before the van reached the gates,
a duffel bag was thrown out of one of the windows and landed in the dirt. The boy again yelled something at the driver, who roared through the Academy's gates, leaving the young man standing there in a cloud of dust. After a moment he walked over to the duffel, heaved one of its straps over his shoulder, and began to walk angrily toward the main stairs leading up to Castle Grisleigh.

There was a buzzing sound from overhead, and they looked up to see Pearl flying down from the high shelf where she had slept. She hovered in front of Lincoln Pugh, who had just opened the bathroom door. “And good day to you, Señor Weird Glasses,” she said. “I am—
¡la Chupakabra!
”

Lincoln took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Not seeing this,” he said. “Not seeing this.”

“The famous goatsucker of Peru!”

Lincoln put his glasses back on, but he did not appear to believe what he saw. “Impossible,” he said.

“Hey,” she said to Falcon, “what is the situation of this little one?”

“He thinks he's insane,” said Falcon. “He thinks there are no such things as monsters.”

Lincoln blinked rapidly. “I—I—I've never hallucinated you before,” he said. “I don't think. Have I?”

“I do not believe in hallucinations,” said Pearl. “Just reality that has not yet come to pass.”

“I am not speaking to a hallucination,” said Lincoln. “It's undignified.”

“She's real,” said Falcon. “Seriously. She's like a fairy, I guess.”

“I don't believe in fairies,” said Lincoln Pugh.

“¡Ai!”
said Pearl. “He is not a believer, in the fairies! But this shall destroy me! I am—in the throes of death!
Auuggghhh!
”

Pearl buzzed to the floor and crashed onto the carpet. She lay on her back with her feet in the air, her tongue hanging out.

“She's—dying!” said Merideath. “Lincoln, you have to believe in Pearl! She'll die if you don't!”

“Oh, for heaven's sakes,” said Lincoln. There are no such things as fairies! Everyone knows that!”

“Shut up,” said Destynee. There were tears in her eyes. “Listen. You're not crazy. Fairies are real! You have to believe in Pearl! Or she's going to die!”

“It's too late,” said Merideath. “She's gone!”

Pearl lay there on the floor, turning pale. She gave one last
Kaack
, and then stopped twitching.

“Is she—?” said Falcon. “Is she—?”

“Oh, man,” said Destynee. “Way to go, idiot.”

Lincoln looked a little sad. “Look, I'm sorry if I—if I—” He looked shocked. “But how could I have—” A look of panic came over Lincoln's face. “Will you all excuse
me? I have to see the doctor. Right away!”

Lincoln Pugh ran down the stairs. “I have to see the doctor!” he shouted.

The others listened to his footsteps as the tiny boy ran down the stairs.

Pearl opened one eye. “Hee hee hee,” she said.

“Pearl!” said Destynee. “You're okay!”

“Of course she's okay,” said Megan. “Didn't you know that?”

Pearl flew into the air and buzzed around the hallway. “The little one has things to learn,” she said.

“I knew she was okay,” said Destynee. “I knew that.”

“He's a werebear,” said Falcon. “I'm not kidding.”

There was a stomping on the stairs. “Wait,” said Merideath. “He's coming back.”

The footsteps ascended, but the person arriving in the common room of the Tower of Aberrations was not Lincoln Pugh. It was the boy they had seen in the driveway earlier. He had two shiny, golden bolts in his neck. The young man took off a pair of mirrored sunglasses, disclosing a pair of piercing blue eyes. Blackish circles beneath his eyes gave the boy an appearance of being tired, or angry, or both. Right behind him was Mrs. Redflint, who had to pause for a moment to catch her breath.

“Hello, children. My, what a set of stairs. I have another roommate for you. This is Jonny Frankenstein.”

The young man shrugged.

Mrs. Redflint looked a little embarrassed. “Jonny, we're going to board you here for a little while—I'm afraid the Tower of Science is all full for now. But don't worry; I'm sure a bed will open up in a few days. Someone always winds up in the dungeon!” She chuckled happily. “In the meantime, this is the Tower of Aberrations, where we store—I mean, house—the unexplainables. I know these are somewhat unusual quarters, but you weren't on my list!”

“It's fine,” said Jonny in a voice suggesting that his expectations hadn't been all that high in the first place.

“All right, then,” said Mrs. Redflint. “I'll let you make friends.” She turned her back and headed down the stairs.

Jonny Frankenstein looked at his new roommates with either contempt or embarrassment.

There was an awkward silence before Falcon introduced himself. “I'm Falcon,” he said. “That's Megan, and Destynee, and Merideath, and Pearl.”

The boy nodded as if he didn't expect to be around long enough to need to remember anyone's name.

Quimby suddenly popped alive in his glass jar. “I'm Quimby!” he shouted. “I'm Quimby!”

“He's the spirit of the crystal,” said Falcon. “We're not supposed to let him out.” Jonny shook his head as if
something as marginal as Quimby was exactly what he'd been expecting all along.

“I'm Quimby!” Quimby shouted again.

Jonny walked over to the couch in the central parlor and heaved his duffel bag onto it, then sat down with a sigh. For a moment he just looked at the floor. Then he opened his duffel and removed a red 1958 Fender Stratocaster guitar.

“We're vampires,” Merideath said hopefully.

Jonny wasn't impressed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a length of instrument cable, then plugged one end into the guitar. With his other hand he reached up and snapped off one of the golden bolts in his neck, displaying a socket for a phono jack. Jonny Frankenstein plugged the guitar into his neck. Then he reached up to the other side and turned his other golden bolt, which clicked softly. This was immediately followed by a soft hum.

“Do you play guitar, Jonny?” said Merideath. Jonny gave her a blistering glance with those blue eyes of his. Then he looked back at his instrument and played an open chord on the Strat. Distorted music blasted into the room.

“Whoa,” said Falcon. “You just plugged into yourself.”