The Monsters of Morley Manor (11 page)

“Yeah, but it's just barely morning. The paper wouldn't be out yet. So it must have been here since yesterday. Which means this must be Tuesday.”

“Uh-uh,” said Sarah, shaking her head. “This is the
morning
paper. They start putting them out at about four or so. Besides, the box is still full. If this was yesterday's paper, there would be hardly any left. So it must be
Monday
morning. If we get home before Gramma wakes up, she'll never know we were gone.”

“All right, let's go back and tell Gaspar the good news,” I said, feeling kind of grumpy. How did she know all this stuff, anyway?

 

G
ASPAR AND
M
ELISANDE
were standing on the walk just inside the gate, out of sight from anyone who might happen by—though passersby were pretty unlikely, considering the time and the location. Their worried expressions changed to relief when they saw us returning.

“Everything is fine,” I said. “It's Monday morning, just like it should be, and . . . yikes! I forgot!”

13

“W
HAT
?”
CRIED
M
ELISANDE
and Gaspar together. “What is it?”

“Monday” I said, my voice weak. “That's when they're going to tear down Morley Manor. They'll be starting in just a few hours!”

“O perfidious world!” cried Gaspar indignantly. “That a man's home should be subject to such whims of fortune!”

Melisande's snakes began to writhe furiously.

Bob crouched at her side, whining piteously.

“I told you they were going to do it,” I pointed out.

Of course, that had been more than five hours ago. A lot had happened to us since then, including being chased by horrible aliens, making a trip to another planet, and finding out that the very souls of Earth's dead were in danger.

“We must take quick action,” said Gaspar. “No time for thought, no chance for sweet contemplation. Such is the darkness of the world.” He looked from side to side, almost as if hoping to find someone to help him. His shoulders slumped. We were on our own.

“All right,” he said. “Anthony, Sarah—please come back inside with us. We will need your help in returning to our human shapes.”

“You want ussss to turn back?” cried Melisande in alarm. “Here? On
Earth
!”

It was clear she didn't like the idea. Judging by the horrible hissing and fizzing they set up, her snakes liked it even less.

“We have no choice,” said Gaspar. He sounded apologetic.

“You can turn back into humans whenever you want?” I asked, startled by the idea.

“What is a human?” asked Gaspar, spreading his hands. “Is it form or face that gives us sweet humanity, or is it something deeper and more real?”

“Jusssst ansssswer the quesssstion,” hissed Melisande impatiently.

Gaspar sighed. “Yes, we can turn back, but not easily. At least, its not easy here. In fact, the process is quite painful—which is probably a metaphor, though I haven't yet figured out for what.”

“Do you mind telling us how you got this way?” asked Sarah.

“Not at all, when we have time. At the moment we've got work to do.”

“What about Bob?” I asked, gesturing toward the werehuman cocker spaniel.

“There's nothing we can do about him right now,” said Gaspar. “His transformation was of a different sort than ours. Now, follow me.”

He led the way back upstairs to his laboratory. For a moment I was worried that the Flinduvians might have smashed it in a fit of spite, so I was relieved to see that it was still intact.

The green jewel called The Heart of Zentarazna that provided power for the whole operation still rested in the control box.

Even our yellow raincoats were right where we had left them.

“Now listen carefully,” said Gaspar. “I'm going to show you how to operate the equipment. But there is something else, something more important. This is not going to be pleasant for Melisande and me. We will plead for you to stop the process.
You must not do this!
No matter how we beg or scream, no matter what we say, you must not stop the transformation. To do so would be catastrophic. Is that clear?”

“Clear,” I said, feeling uneasy.

Gaspar talked us through the order in which we had to push the buttons and pull the levers. He did it twice, then made me repeat it to him two more times. When he was satisfied, he took Melisande by the hand and they went to stand beneath the same glass chambers we had used to enlarge them.

Even after they were in place, I waited for Gaspar's nod before pulling the lever that would lower the tubes. As the chambers descended from the ceiling Melisande's snakes started thrashing wildly, tying themselves in knots.

We heard the dull thunk of the glass against the platform. A moment later Gaspar nodded again. Instantly Sarah and I set to work, pulling levers and shifting dials. Soon a fantastic humming filled the room, getting gradually louder and louder. Sparks crackled through the glass chambers, which began to fill with green mist. Electricity—or maybe some other kind of power I don't know about—skittered over the surface of the cylinders.

All at once Gaspar began to scream.

“We've got to turn it off!” cried Sarah in alarm.

“No!” I said fiercely. “He told us this would happen.”

Gaspar screamed again and began pounding on the side of the tube. Melisande uttered a high-pitched shriek that seemed to wind around his, spiraling upward.

I felt as if someone was scraping shards of glass down a blackboard.

Melisande was on her knees now. I could see her snakes through the green mist, thrashing, thrashing, stretching out to new lengths as if they were trying to separate from her head.

“Stop it!” sobbed Sarah. “Stop it, Anthony! You have to stop it!”

“We can't!” I said, though there was nothing in the world I wanted more at that moment than to do just that. “If we stop now, Gaspar and Melisande might be caught halfway between human and monster forever!”

Gaspar screamed a third time. “For the love of God, Anthony, stop the process! I was wrong, I was wrong. Stop it if you have a shred of mercy in your soul!”

He beat his head against the clear wall of the cylinder, sobbing piteously.

“I can't stand it!” cried Sarah. “Turn it off, Anthony!”

She lunged for the main lever. I caught her just in time. She may be nicer than I am, but sometimes nice isn't the answer. I held on to her with all my might as she fought to get to the controls. It wasn't easy, because I couldn't stand the screams either and wanted desperately for them to end. Even worse, I was secretly afraid that something really had gone wrong, that Gaspar and Melisande were being tortured, maybe even dying. But Gaspar had been deadly serious in his instructions: I
must not stop the process once it had started
.

Sarah broke free of my grasp. I tackled her and we both fell to the floor.

The screams of Gaspar and Melisande were louder and more desperate than ever.

I felt as if I was being tortured myself. Was I doing the right thing? I was on the verge of letting Sarah go, of letting her pull the lever that would halt the horrible process, when I heard three loud snaps, just as Gaspar had said we would.

Instantly the mist in the chambers turned purple.

“There!” I said, letting go of Sarah. “Now we can turn it off.”

Her face was streaked with tears. “I hate you!” she sobbed.

Ignoring her, I stood up and pulled the lever that raised the chambers.

Coughing and choking, Gaspar and Melisande stepped out.

Bob took one look at the two of them and began to howl.

“Holy mackerel!” cried Sarah, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. “You guys look like movie stars!” Turning toward me, she muttered, “Sorry about the fuss, Anthony.”

“Don't worry about it, kid,” I replied softly. “When you're big like me, you'll know better.”

“You're a booger,” she said. She probably would have said more, but she was too interested in Gaspar and Melisande.

The human Gaspar had jet-black hair; a strong, prominent nose; a high forehead; and wide-set brown eyes. He stretched and rubbed his arms, then shook his head like a dog that had just climbed out of the water.

Melisande, still wearing her slinky dress, reached up to touch her own hair. She made a terrible face. “How boring!” she muttered, as she ran her hands through the tangled mass of glossy raven curls. It was strange to hear her speak with no hissing.

“So—now what do we do?” I asked.

“First Gaspar and I have to change our clothes,” said Melisande decisively.

I thought this was a terrible idea. Her dress looked spectacular. But she was right—she couldn't walk around Owl's Roost that way without attracting attention.

Actually, she probably couldn't walk around anywhere that way without attracting attention.

“Melisande speaks truth,” said Gaspar. “Too often a man is judged on how he dresses. I must work fast this morning and will need every advantage I can get. Fond as I am of this lab coat, it has seen better days.”

“Changing your clothes is a good idea, but I don't think there's much chance of doing it,” said Sarah. “Why not?” asked Melisande.

“Well, aside from the fact that any clothes you had would be fifty-some years out of style, I doubt there are any here. Remember, they had a sale to clear the place out before the wreckers came. That's how Anthony got you to begin with.”

“Can you help us?” asked Gaspar desperately. “I must get to a lawyer immediately. They may be a vile species and the curse of humanity, but they're our only hope at the moment.”

Sarah glanced at me. “Do you suppose they could wear Mom and Dad's clothes?”

I didn't think Mom and Dad would be particularly pleased by the idea. On the other hand, we were in so far at this point that I figured a little thing like loaning our parents' clothes to a couple of recently transformed monsters shouldn't slow us down. “Hard to say. I think Gaspar is a little taller than Dad. And Melisande is a little more . . .” I let the sentence drop. “I don't know. It might work.”

“Lets go,” said Gaspar.

“What about Bob?” asked Sarah.

Gaspar looked at Bob. The werehuman began to whine.

“We'd better take him with us,” said Gaspar. “If anyone comes along, we'll just have to hide him. Do you think you can keep him quiet, Melisande?”

She looked at Bob, then shrugged. “It won't be easy, but I think I can manage it.”

As it turned out, hiding Bob wasn't necessary. When we went outside a pale light was creeping across the sky; Bob began to bark. Then he flopped onto his side and kicked, the way dogs do when they're dreaming. Then he rolled over and over.

In a few moments, he wriggled out of his clothes, a floppy-eared cocker spaniel, panting and wagging his tail.

“That is too weird,” said Sarah, as Bob came trotting over to lick her hand.

“What a good dog!” cried Melisande, patting Bob's head.

“Come along,” said Gaspar. “We have to hurry.”

Easy for him to say. He wasn't going to have to explain all this to his grandmother.

We slipped into the house. Gramma was still asleep, though how long that would last, I wasn't certain. Given her deafness, we weren't likely to wake her with our noise. On the other hand, she was an early riser. The one I was really worried about was Mr. Perkins. But when he came loping into the kitchen and bared his nasty little monkey fangs at us, Melisande said sharply, “Oh, don't be silly! Settle down and be a nice boy.”

To my astonishment, Mr. Perkins did exactly that. He trotted docilely to her side, and when she reached down her arm, he climbed up and sat gently on her shoulder.

“Melisande has always had a way with animals,” said Gaspar. I could hear a kind of pride in his voice at his younger sister's talent.

I shook my head. We had seen a lot of bizarre things that night, but the sight of the fabulously beautiful Melisande in her skintight, slinky dress, with Mr. Perkins on her shoulder, running his paws delicately through her curly black hair, was as weird as any of them.

Sarah yawned, which got me started, too. “I don't think I've ever been so tired in my entire life,” I muttered.

“Please,” said Gaspar urgently. “Just help us find something to wear. Then you can sleep.”

Sarah led the way to our parents' bedroom, where Gramma was sleeping. Even though I didn't think she would hear us, we moved quietly.

It took about a half an hour, and a few safety pins, but we finally got Gaspar and Melisande looking pretty acceptable. Dad's suit looked sort of doofy on Gaspar, but as Sarah said, he was so handsome he could get away with it. Melisande didn't look quite as wonderful as she had in her own dress, but that was probably just as well.

“Now what?” Sarah asked.

“Now Melisande and I go wake up some poor lawyer and try to save Morley Manor,” said Gaspar. “It's not going to be easy, but we should at least be able to stop the wreckers for a day. After all, we are the rightful heirs. In the meantime, you two get some rest. I want you fresh and ready for our trip to the Land of the Dead.”

14

D
ESPITE THE FACT
that I was exhausted, my mind was in such a whirl that I didn't know if I would be able to sleep or not. But the minute I hit the sheets, I fell into a sleep so deep it was like being dead.

Good practice for what was to come, I suppose.

I didn't wake up until noon.

When I staggered out to the kitchen, I found Gramma standing at the counter, kneading some bread dough. Mr. Perkins was sitting on his perch, eating an apple. He snarled at me when I came in. Obviously, Melisande's influence had worn off. In fact, the whole scene looked so normal that I began to wonder if everything that I thought had happened the night before had just been some weird dream after all.