A round of applause greeted Katie as she slogged into the sitting room.
She glanced up to see Chani, Gwillian, Ella, and Trinket standing beneath an enormous banner spanning the entire length of the farthest wall, upon which was painted “Katie the Monster Slayer!” in large pink letters. She couldn’t help but grin at it, even despite her frustration.
“The story is all over campus,” said Chani as she crushed Katie in a fierce hug. “You should hear what everyone is saying about you!”
“Yes,” Petula said with poorly disguised resentment. She was standing in front of the fireplace mirror, plucking and preening herself with ruthless abandon. The glass, Katie noticed with amusement, was nearly obscured with steam. “A recent campus poll rated you the most popular student. Congratulations.”
“And guess who you unseated,” Gwillian said, pointing surreptitiously at Petula.
Petula rounded on them suddenly. “Where did I go wrong?” she cried in an overdramatic, tortured voice. “Was it my hair? My clothes? My makeup? What does Katie have that I don’t?”
“Nerve,” Ella answered wryly.
“I have plenty of nerve!” Petula retorted. “Do you have any idea how many boys I’ve flirted with in front of their girlfriends? Hundreds! If that’s not nerve, I don’t know what is!”
“That’s not the sort of nerve Ella means, Pet,” said Trinket as she whisked a handful of lint to the trash bin.
“We’re talking bravery here. Katie stood nose to snout with a Shriek and destroyed it! That’s why she’s so popular.”
“But I’ve destroyed things, too!” Petula objected.
“Destroying other people’s relationships isn’t exactly the same thing as slaying a ruthless killing machine,” said Gwillian with a shake of her head.
Unable to trump that, Petula stamped her foot in a childish fit of exasperation and stormed from the room. The entire house shook as she slammed her bedroom door behind her.
“Wow,” said the book as it fell into a hover directly above Katie’s shoulder. “A bit touchy, isn’t she?”
Katie gasped and snatched the book into her arms. It protested with a string of discordant umphs as she attempted to stuff it nonchalantly into her backpack, but the damage had already been done. The girls were looking at her, their eyebrows raised in curiosity.
“What was that?” said Chani in an expectant, intrigued voice.
“Just my, er, Ancient Oddysh textbook,” Katie said hastily.
“A textbook that talks without being commanded?” said Ella. “I’ve never heard of one of those before.”
“Yeah, it’s one of those new interactive books,” Katie lied, hoping that she sounded convincingly casual. “It prompts you with a series of words and then you respond.”
“Cool!” said Gwillian.
Chani, however, did not look persuaded.
Katie turned so that only her friend could see her face, and as she slung the backpack over a peg on the coat rack, she mouthed, Drop it!
Chani’s eyes flashed with comprehension and she quickly turned to the mountain of flashnotes piled on the table. “These have been pouring in all afternoon,” she said excitedly.
“Who are they from?” said Katie as she sat on the couch.
“Everyone!” said Ella. She scooped up a handful of flashnotes and tossed them into the air with a whoop of delight. “Most of them are from our fellow students, and more than a few of them are from the faculty as well. They’ve all written to congratulate you on your bravery. Isn’t that fantastic?”
“Hercule sent you one,” said Chani with a knowing smile as she slipped Katie a crinkled blue flashnote. A warm smile sprouted on Katie’s face as she read it:
Way to go, Katie!
Still waiting, Hercule.
“And Drool wrote: ‘Glad it wasn’t me!’” said Chani.
Katie laughed.
“Oh, and you’ve gotta see Bazil’s,” said Chani. “It’s hilarious.”
Katie snatched the lime green note into her hand and sniggered at the hasty message scrawled across it:
Wish I had been there to fight at your side. No, not really.
“And here’s one from that delicious C.O.V. guy you argued with yesterday,” said Gwillian.
Katie’s heart fluttered as she glimpsed Rudigan’s name at the bottom of a surprisingly long message. It read:
Dear Katie:
I was delighted to hear of your recent adventure in the museum.
Cleary, you have what it takes to be a hero. If indeed you are suffering from the gruesome wounds that, rumor has it, you sustained, I wish you a speedy recovery. If not, then please disregard my sentiments. On a more important note, I wish to ask your advice. I am required to create a villainous name, one that I will adopt upon graduating from the College of Villainy. I have narrowed my choices to three: Malevolus, Maligno, and Befoulor. I would be honored if you would choose the name you think best suits my personality. After all, you are the one who is going to be cursing it the most.
Please reply at your earliest convenience.
‘Uncivilly’ Yours,
Rom
Katie did her best to hide the smile forming on her lips as she stuffed the flashnote into her pocket, but the girls were watching her very closely and they laughed knowingly when they spied it.
“I knew it!” said Ella, slapping Gwillian on the arm. “Didn’t I tell you, Gwill? Katie and that Rom guy have a thing for each other.”
“We don’t have a thing for each other,” Katie said coyly, but her smile, which could not be dampened, stretched even wider. “Our friendship—if you can even call it that—is strictly professional. He wants me to be his nemesis.”
“No w-a-y!” Gwillian cried, as though Katie’s explanation was the most scandalous thing she had ever heard.
“Have you given him an answer?”
Katie shrugged. “Not yet,” she said. “He’s arrogant and smug enough to be a good villain, but I want to see how well he does in his classes before I commit.”
“I still say you two have a thing…” muttered Ella.
“He’s terribly cute, I won’t argue with you,” Katie admitted. “And maybe a bit alluring as well. But that’s as far as my interest in him goes.” I think, she added to herself.
Katie was surprised to admit these feeling, for she had never consciously considered Rudigan to be anything but a vile, self-centered twit. It seemed that something dangerous was at work deep in her subconscious mind, something that warranted a closer look…or, at the very least, careful monitoring.
“If she has a thing for anyone, it’s Hercule,” Chani said matter-of-factly.
“Oooh, yeah! Tell us about him!” Gwillian was positively bubbling with interest as she dropped onto the couch next to Katie.
Katie grinned at her. “He’s perfect,” she said, smiling at the memory of the afternoon they had spent together at the start of summer. “And he’s sweeter than bee pollen.”
“He asked her to be his heartfriend, you know,” Chani said to the girls.
Ella gasped. “Don’t tell me you turned him down!”
“I haven’t decided yet,” answered Katie.
“Haven’t decided?” cried a bewildered Gwillian. “What’s there to decide?”
“The truth is,” Katie said, “I want to be a hero more than anything in the world. Getting caught up in a relationship now would only…complicate things.”
Chani rolled her eyes. “What Katie’s really trying to say is that she’s afraid a relationship would eventually become a bigger priority for her than being a hero,” she said.
“And I can see that happening,” Katie said emphatically. “I just don’t want it to happen now. But Hercule has asked, and I owe him an answer….at some point.” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “It’s a difficult decision.”
“I know how you feel,” said Trinket. “It’s sort of like having to choose between a plate of goggleberries and a handful of tozernuts, isn’t it? I mean, one is just as delicious as the other, and even though you’d like to eat both, you know they’ll give you one heck of a sour stomach if you do.”
“Yeah,” said Katie, wondering what a tozernut was. “Sort of.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll come to a decision sooner or later,” said Gwillian. “But I wouldn’t dither too long if I were you. Handsome boys like your Hercule have a way of getting snatched up quick as lightning here at college.”
Katie shrugged as if to say she didn’t care, but inside, her heart did a back flip. She knew Gwillian was right. She had seen firsthand how Hercule had drawn the looks of all the girls that night at the Commons. It didn’t take a logotician to predict that it would only be a matter of time before one of them caught his eye, and then how would she feel? Terrible, she supposed—and angry: terrible for missing out on the romantic opportunity of a lifetime, and angry for not having been given the time to decide whether she wanted it or not. But she told herself Hercule wasn’t that fickle. He’d wait for her answer before turning his attention to another girl—of that she was certain.
“We’ll just have to see,” she replied.
Sensing that Katie wished to change the subject, Chani nudged Ella in the side. “Tell her about what you heard in your gossip column,” she said.
“Oh, yeah!” Ella sat beside Katie and placed a hand on her knee. Her grin was as devilish as Katie had ever seen it. “Prepare yourself,” she said. “This is big news.”
“Tell me,” said Katie, leaning forward in eager anticipation.
“This is no rumor, mind, but the absolute truth. I cross-referenced it with several rumors coming out of both the History and Administration departments and it checks out. Are you ready?”
Katie nodded so fast her vision blurred.
“Curator Woolf has decided to cancel your Ancient History class and give passing grades to every student present during the Shriek attack!”
Katie blinked at her, stunned by the news.
“But that’s not all,” Ella jumped in before Katie had a chance to respond. “The board has also voted to credit you the equivalent of a full semester’s worth of classes! Apparently they feel responsible for what happened to you, and this is their way of apologizing. Isn’t that great? You get to graduate a semester early!”
Katie’s smile widened by tiny degrees until it became a full-fledged grin. “Wow!” she said breathlessly, finding it difficult to say anything else. “Wow!”
“Where were you last semester when I needed a passing grade in my Heroic Stances and Postures class?” Gwillian quipped.
“Tell her the rest of the news, Ella!” Trinket urged.
“There’s more?” said Katie. She was beginning to feel overwhelmed by all the good news her housemates were reporting.
“It’s not exactly good news,” Ella cautioned. “More like not-so-good news, but with a happy ending.”
“What is it?”
“The four of us are leaving tomorrow,” said Gwillian. “For our first adventure in the wild and wonderful world of Odyssey.”
Katie felt suddenly saddened. “So soon?” she said. “But we were just becoming good friends.”
“We’ll be back at the end of the semester,” said Trinket.
“That’s right,” said Gwillian. “The time will pass so quickly you’ll hardly notice we were gone.”
“But before we go, the three of us thought we’d treat you to an extra special Night Caper,” said Ella, “to celebrate your good fortune and your success at surviving your battle with that Shriek.”
“Night Caper? What’s that?” Katie asked.
“A Sneak Out,” said Chani with a grin.
“Oh,” said Katie, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “I see. And where are we sneaking to?”
“That, I’m afraid, is a secret,” said Trinket.
“Until tonight,” said Ella.
“Late tonight,” Gwillian corrected.
Katie could see she wasn’t going to get very far by pressing them for more information, so she let the matter lie. “Well,” she said, rising to her feet. “If I’m going to be out late I might as well try to get some rest.”
“That is a very good idea,” said Gwillian.
“Do I need to bring anything along on this excursion into the unknown?” Katie asked.
“Money,” said Trinket. “And lots of it.”
Katie retrieved her backpack from the coat rack and, bidding the girls a good afternoon, trudged down the hall to her room. Slinging the backpack around the giant, bulbous knob decorating the headboard of her bed, she dropped onto the mattress with a heavy sigh and lay staring up at the ceiling, trying hard to put the brakes to the merry-go-round of thoughts spinning in her head. Suddenly remembering Rudigan’s flashnote, she dug it from her pocket, studied the three names he had asked her to choose between, and lazily scribbled her reply beneath his elegant handwriting:
Malevolus. Definitely.
Katie
Without bothering to wait for a reply, she tossed the note onto the nightstand, magicked the shades shut, closed her eyes, and fell immediately into a deep, dark, sleep that was haunted by the sound of paws scratching on stone.
At midnight she was awakened by a gentle nudge, and she sat up to find Chani and the rest of the Cahernan girls gathered around her bed. Even Petula was there, looking excited and eager to be off.
“Ready to go?” Gwillian said.
“Yeah,” said Katie, kicking off the covers. She reached for the backpack, checked to see if The Book of All Things was safe inside, and then went to her dresser and slipped her mother’s Wonder-Widget Bag from the second drawer. She crammed it into her pocket as she hurried to the door. “All set,” she said, but frowned as they filed down the hall and into the darkened sitting room. “Aren’t we using the door?”
Trinket giggled. “Can’t,” she said.
“Why not?” said Katie.
“After ten bells you can’t use the doors to travel beyond school grounds,” Ella explained.
“Anyone stupid enough to try using them will automatically be transported to the detention wing of Golem Knight HQ,” said Petula as she opened a panel on the left side of the fireplace. Katie saw a set of steps leading down into the inky gloom of the cellar.
“Then how will we reach the—er—wherever it is we’re going?” Chani said, nearly letting slip their destination.
Ella ushered the Banshee down the stairs and then fell into step behind her. “By using our feet, naturally,” she answered.
“How do you expect to get us past the Night Knight Patrols?” asked Katie, whose turn it was to follow.
“By using our secret weapon,” Gwillian said.
“Which is…?”
“Me,” said Trinket proudly.
Once in the basement, Ella led them to a large, ancient-looking door covered with scabs of paint. She put a finger to her lips, warning them all to keep absolutely silent, and then slowly slid back the rusty bolt in the center of the door. The door swung open on hinges silenced by a muffling charm, and Ella stuck her head out to survey the back lawn.
“Okay, Trink,” she whispered. “It’s your show. There’s a Golem Knight standing watch at the edge of the forest.”
Trinket giggled as she zipped past Katie’s ear and, quick as a hummingbird, disappeared into the night-shrouded yard. Katie riveted her gaze on the knight, nearly invisible against the forest’s black backdrop but for the rays of moonlight reflecting off its shiny silver armor. There was a pregnant pause, and then a moment later the sound of a snapping stick echoed sharply across the yard. The knight jerked to attention and immediately marched into the trees to investigate. A second later, a faint red-orange glow appeared in the trees on the opposite side of the yard.
“That’s our signal, girls,” said Gwillian, pushing them out the door. “Run quietly, and keep to the shadows at all times.”
Katie quickly crossed the yard to the rallying point and was surprised to discover that the source of the signal light was none other than Trinket herself. She was clinging to the bark of a nearby pine tree, her delicate wings pulsing with an ephemeral bronze glow.
“I didn’t know Faeries could do that,” Katie said.
Trinket gave her an embarrassed look and then doused her light. “It’s something we don’t like to talk about,” she said.
“Zip your lips,” said Gwillian in a stern whisper. “From here on out, we run silent.”
With Trinket running diversions and acting as guide, the six girls exited the yard and slowly made their way west through the woods to the edge of the school grounds then across the center green and past the school’s colossal tower, dodging the Golem Knight patrols wherever and whenever they appeared. After a tense half hour they finally arrived at the mammoth outer wall separating Derring-Do from the mountain city’s second tier and began to slink along it.
“Here’s where the fun begins,” muttered Ella.
“I hope you don’t expect us to climb over this thing,” Katie said, studying the sheer, smooth stones for finger-holds and finding none.
“Naw,” said Gwillian. “We’re going through it.”
They halted before the enormous face of a grimacing gorgon carved into the wall’s living stone. Seven snakes fanned out from its head, their mouths gaping and fangs barred as if ready to strike at anyone who dared lurk too close.
Gwillian turned to Katie and Chani and gave them a wink. “We call this the Rogue’s Gate,” she said. “A hundred years ago a Cahernan girl overheard a praelector reciting the secret combination and recorded it in our House Register for the benefit of subsequent generations.”
Katie glanced at the sculpture. “Why hasn’t the school ever changed the combination?” she said.
“Spooked if we know,” said Ella. “But if I were to guess, I’d say the combination is much too difficult to crack through trial and error. One wrong word, and this thing screams like a Shriek with its tail on fire.”
Katie stiffened as the name brought the image of the creature snarling and slavering out of the void of her memory. Noticing her reaction, Ella winced.
“Er, sorry, Katie,” she said. “Bad analogy.”
Gwillian jabbed Petula in the arm. “Hurry up and open the door, will you?” she urged. “I don’t want to stand out here all night.”
“Wait!” hissed Trinket. “Someone’s coming!”
Katie whirled around to see a hulking shadow creeping along the wall toward them. At Gwillian’s silent signal, the six of them retreated into a patch of darkness cast by a nearby oak. Katie backed herself against the tree’s stout trunk and watched the shadow slink ever nearer, noting with rising alarm the utter silence in which it moved. This was no Golem Knight clanking toward them, but something well schooled in the ways of stealth.
Several tense moments passed, and then the shadow paused abruptly, as though sensing it was being watched. Katie thought she heard a low, menacing growl issue from the darkness beyond the tree. She fought the urge to summon a stunning spell, knowing that the sudden surge of light would reveal their hiding place.
Suddenly, Trinket shot out of the branches and into the moonlit night, casting a shadow against the wall that was twenty-times her size. In response, the low, menacing growl rose in pitch to become a feral, inhuman screech that shredded the silence like a young girl’s terrified squeal. Katie’s heart nearly lurched to a halt at the sound of it. What sort of monstrosity had Notorcia sent after her this time? Not another Shriek—the tone and pitch of the scream was entirely different—but certainly something that sounded equally as deadly.
The shadow play that ensued was fast and violent and over before Katie, or the rest of the girls, could respond. Without hesitation or even the slightest concern for her safety, Trinket zoomed into battle, barely dodging a vicious swipe of a claw-studded paw to land a kick on her shadow-opponent’s nose. The creature shook off the blow and lunged at her, but Trinket performed an impressive mid-air back flip that carried her up and over its snapping jaws and down onto its neck. She seized its pointed ears in her tiny fists and yanked on them as if they were reins. The creature yowled in pain. With a single shake of its head, it tossed Trinket into the air and turned to flee. There was a sudden, tiny flash of purple-pink light, and a second later something small and agile darted past Katie’s legs, enveloped in a cloud of magickal stinging gnats.
Katie watched the creature flee toward the tower, bucking and rearing in a futile attempt to rid itself of its needle-nosed attackers.
“It’s only a stupid cat,” she said with a giggle of relief.
Ella heaved an explosive sigh and leaned against the tree, holding a hand against her chest in an effort to still her wildly beating heart. “I thought another Shriek had come after Katie,” she gasped. She muttered a curse beneath her breath and regarded Katie with a pointed look. “Remind me to kick the next cat that crosses our path, will you?”
“Only if I get first dibs,” Katie replied.
Trinket returned, slapping her hands together and wearing a triumphant smirk. “Yet another foe vanquished by Trinket the Barbarian,” she said.
“Trinket, you are my favorite hero,” Ella said, snatching the Faerie from the air and planting a big, wet kiss on her face.
Trinket squirmed from the girl’s fist and shot into the air, spitting and sputtering, her face slathered with bright pink lipstick. “Yoggs and Goblins, Ella!” she cried. “It’s no wonder you can’t land a heartfriend—you kiss like a Slather Slug!”
“Let’s get going,” said Gwillian impatiently as she stalked over to the gorgon. “Pet, you do the honors.”
With a giggle, Petula poked the gorgon in the nose then retreated quickly as the entire sculpture sprang to life.
Katie shivered as the snakes began to writhe about upon the wall. The gorgon’s eyes rotated out of its head and studied each of them very slowly before settling on Petula. Its lips quivered and then parted, exposing twin rows of pointed stone teeth.
“You seek to pass?” it said in a voice as cold and flat as the stone from which it issued.
“We do,” said Petula confidently.
“Do you possess the key?”
“We do.”
“What form does it take?”
“That of the spoken word,” said Petula.
“Who speaks first?”
“You do.”
The gorgon nodded slightly in approval, and then said, “The rugged rogue robed in ragged red...”
“…shunned the shambling shadow in the shed,” Petula finished.
There came a rumble from the gorgon’s mouth, as if some gigantic burp was about to explode from its throat, its teeth retracted into the stone, and then its bottom lip dropped to the ground, exposing a tunnel lit by a pale white glow.
“Welcome to the gateway to the Bizarre Bazaar,” said Trinket with a flourish of her hand.
Gwillian dry-washed her hands in anticipation. “Right!” she exclaimed. “Let’s do some shopping, girls!”
Copyright © 2008 by Kevin Scott Munnings
“The Book of All Things” ISBN-13: 978-1-4276-1874-0
All Rights Reserved
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