“But I need to talk to him! I have to ask him about this ring.”
“Did you read the directions carefully?” asked Roxanne.
“Yes.”
“Then you don’t need to ask him anything,” said Jerome. “As long as you pay close attention to them—”
“He asked us to remind you of that,” interrupted Roxanne.
Jerome scowled at her. “As long as you pay close attention to the directions, you’ve got everything you need to know. If Elives wants to tell you something else, he’ll get word to you one way or another.”
The rats started down the side of the garbage can.
“Wait!” said Russell. “How come you can talk?”
“It’s a long story,” said Roxanne, once she had reached the ground. “And we have work to do. The old man keeps us pretty busy—especially at this time of the year.”
She turned and scampered after Jerome.
“Wait!” cried Russell again. But it was too late. He watched helplessly as the rats disappeared through a crack in the alley wall.
Two hours later, Russell sat in his room, staring at the ring.
It scared him. Oh, he loved it—loved the monstrous carving, and the magic that it contained. But he was frightened by what was happening to him. Not to mention the fact that he was now having conversations with rats.
He looked at the ring again. So far it had gotten him into more trouble than he was willing to think about.
The thing was, it had also been a lot of fun.
Should he use it tonight, or not?
Common sense was saying no.
But another side of him, a wilder side, was saying, “It’s Halloween! What better time to be a monster?”
He had been looking forward to this night all week.
He glanced at the instruction sheet lying on his desk.
Twist it once, you’re horned and haired;
Twist it twice and fangs are bared;
Twist it thrice? No one has dared!
He had felt very daring lately.
He smiled. One good thing—he didn’t have to make up his mind right away. With the ring he could put on his “costume” anytime he wanted to.
He put the directions in an envelope. Going to his dresser, he opened the center drawer. Lifting out a stack of underwear—each pair carefully labeled by his mother for the day of the week that he was to wear it—he put the envelope in the bottom of the drawer for safekeeping. He replaced the underwear, then went downstairs.
His mother was in the den, reading a cookbook.
“I’m going to the bonfire now,” he said.
“All right, Russell. Have a good time.”
He stared at her in surprise. Her expression was blank, emotionless. He wasn’t sure if she was still hurt over what had happened this morning, or if this was a new way of punishing him for that outburst.
He sighed, feeling the delight of the moment drain away.
Quietly, he left the house.
Every year the town council held a bonfire at the high school to keep the kids out of mischief on Halloween. They organized games, served cider and doughnuts, and gave prizes for the best costumes. It was a good time and Russell always looked forward to it.
This year Kennituck Falls had a perfect night for the celebration. A wild October wind was blowing through the trees, chasing dead leaves around their trunks. The sky was clear, sprinkled with stars. You could almost smell the magic in the air.
Russell nabbed a cup of cider, crammed half a doughnut into his mouth, and wandered through the happy crowd to see how the bobbing for apples was going. Suddenly he spotted Eddie out of the corner of his eye. His enemy was in the grip of a large, mean-looking teenager. From the frightened expression that twisted Eddie’s face, Russell could tell that he was feeling the same kind of fear that he, Russell, had so often felt when trapped in Eddie’s grasp.
Watching as the older boy steered Eddie through the crowd, Russell decided to follow. He trailed the two boys around the corner of the school, pressing himself to the building so that he wouldn’t be seen. Once they were away from the bonfire, the darkness grew more intense.
Two other teenagers stepped from the shadows. “You got him!” cried one, happily.
The others shushed him.
Russell edged closer to the four figures, listening intently.
“Aw, come on, you guys,” whined Eddie. “I didn’t do anything that bad.”
Russell recognized the nervous edge in Eddie’s voice; he had heard it often enough in his own.
“Of course you didn’t,” sneered one of the boys. “We just want to teach you a lesson now, before you do anything worse.”
Another reached into Eddie’s shirt pocket. “Here’s his soap. He was gonna soap more windows.”
“Maybe we should soap him,” said the third boy. “How about that, punk? Wanna take a bath in the river?”
“Yeah. And then you can play Find Your Clothes,” said the first with a laugh.
Russell began to get edgy. He rubbed his thumb against the ring.
Eddie made a break for it. The biggest of the boys grabbed him.
“Help!” cried Eddie.
“Shut up, punk!” snapped the boy. He slapped Eddie sharply.
That did it. Russell, infuriated by seeing even his enemy get bullied, began to twist the ring, repeating the chant as he did. Once, twice—and then, in the heat of his anger, a third time.
A small explosion rocked his head. He knew at once, with a deep conviction, that this change was going to be very different from the ones that had come before it.
The boys were dragging Eddie off. Russell started to follow, then staggered and fell back into the shadow of a doorway. The change was coming too fast, too strong. He couldn’t move.
All the familiar things were happening: the horns, the fangs, the hair on hands and feet. But something else—something strange and new—was happening, too. He felt as if someone had reached inside of him, grabbed his toes, and was trying to turn him inside out.
He was hot and cold by alternate flashes.
A foul odor was emanating from his skin.
Suddenly he was scared, scared to the bottom of his soul.
“No one has dared!” the instructions had said.
Had he gone too far?
He became aware of a stabbing pain in his back. It increased in intensity until he fell to the ground, writhing in agony. A sudden rush of even more intense pain, sharp and flamelike . . . a tearing sound . . . a feeling that he was being ripped apart . . . and then the impossible happened.
Up from his shoulders sprang two huge, batlike wings.
But there was no time to think about that miracle. The heat from his body had become unbearable. Lifting himself to his hands and knees, Russell saw the hair on the backs of his hands begin to smoke.
The heat grew more intense. He realized with sudden horror that his clothes were smoking, too. Desperate, he tore at them. Too late. They had reached the flash point.
In one horrible moment, Russell Crannaker was wrapped in flames from head to toe.
TEN
Russell to the Rescue
Russell cried out in terror and flung himself to the ground, ready to roll in an attempt to extinguish the flames. But as quickly as they had begun, they died away.
He lay there for a moment, too stunned to think. Then a stray beam of moonlight struck his hand, and he gasped at what he saw, the strange change in his skin.
Yet the moonlight itself seemed to calm him, offer him new strength.
He pushed himself to his knees, then slowly rose to his feet, stretching his arms to the beckoning silver circle above him. And if he had been a monster before, Russell Crannaker was a king among monsters now. His entire body was covered with overlapping red scales that gleamed like burnished metal. His wings stretched tall behind him, their peaks and points looming against the night. And in his eyes there burned a fire that could freeze a man with fear.
&n
bsp; He beat his fists against his chest, then extended his wings, flapped them twice, and floated into the air.
Even though it was his own strength that lifted him, Russell felt an instant of panic. It was as if he had been plucked from the earth, was being carried away by some giant winged beast.
Except the beast was him.
The panic gave way to a surge of delight.
Working the wings with his powerful shoulder muscles, he rose into the night, into the deep black heavens. The ground shrank away as he drew level with the treetops. He continued to rise, on and up, toward the mysterious moon.
I wonder how high I can go? he thought—then decided to find out. But when he had soared to about three hundred feet, he looked down and suddenly felt as if he had just taken a dive on the biggest roller coaster in the world. His stomach began begging for mercy.
He dropped back to about a hundred feet, then began to glide lazily over the town.
He found it deeply satisfying to be flying through the night under his own power. The silence—no sound save the wind on his wings—made it seem as if he had entered another world, separate from the one that drifted below him, so very far away.
Passing over the high school, Russell was attracted by the bonfire. Three or four hundred costumed children, looking like beetles, milled about, happily guzzling cider and gobbling doughnuts.
With a roar, Russell swooped down toward them. He was rewarded with a flurry of exclamations, pointing, and screaming.
Just as quickly, he soared away again, over the top of the school, leaving them wondering but happy. Most of them would remember this Halloween as the best of their lives.
A few blocks past the school, Russell suddenly spotted four figures—three large ones and a smaller one—struggling wildly.
Eddie and his teenage attackers!
Russell had forgotten them in the heat of his transformation. But it was clear that Eddie was in big trouble. And despite all the bullying Eddie had done to him in the past, three against one stuck in Russell’s throat.
Without giving him time to think, his monster side snapped into action.
First came an earsplitting roar. Thundering through the night, it spun the teenagers around.
Their eyes bulged with horror, as if they were seeing the end of the world. Actually, as far as they were concerned, they were. For as Russell flew toward them, he looked like nothing so much as death on wings, descending now to claim them.
“Move!” screamed one.
Dropping Eddie, they raced for safety.
That should have been enough; Eddie was out of danger. But Russell’s hunting spirit was roused. He shot after the older boys like an arrow from a bow. Working his huge, batlike wings, he sped along a mere five feet above the pavement. His blood pounded through his veins, afire with the joy of the chase.
An instant later, he closed on the boy in the rear.
“Gotcha!” snarled Russell as he caught the teenager under the arms with his claws.
Changing direction, he headed straight up.
“Hellllllp!” screamed his captive. “Let me down! Let me down!”
He squirmed and began to kick wildly.
“Careful,” growled Russell, “or I might drop you.”
Then he chuckled.
The frightened teenager looked down.
They were at least a hundred feet above the street.
He stopped kicking.
Russell, thrilled with the strength in his usually puny arms, continued to rise. Soon they were higher than the tallest building in the town. The land had become like a map beneath them: the houses, small boxes; the streets, little lines. The moon sparkled on the river at the west edge of town.
Russell swooped toward the black and silver water. “How would you like a bath?” he asked, remembering how the boys had threatened Eddie.
The memory triggered another idea. As long as he was at it, maybe he ought to give Eddie a good scare. Not hurt him, as these jokers had intended. Just . . . educate him a little.
Suddenly he lost interest in the rowdy dangling from his talons.
“Remember this the next time you decide to pick on someone,” Russell growled. Swooping even lower, he dropped the boy in the mud at the river’s edge. The teenager made a satisfying sploosh as he landed.
Russell rose again, banked in a sharp curve, and zoomed back toward where he had left Eddie.
He wasn’t there. It took Russell a few minutes, but searching was easier when you could fly. He soon located his old nemesis cowering in the back entrance of the high school, a glazed expression on his face.
Russell landed about fifteen feet in front of him. “There you are!” he said, in booming tones. “I’ve been looking for you!”
Eddie jumped up, pressing himself against the locked door. “Get away from me! Get away, you monster!”
“Be quiet,” snarled Russell.
“Right,” said Eddie. “Anything you say.” He was so tight against the door he looked as if he were trying to squeeze through the keyhole.
“Now listen,” said Russell. “You’ve been picking on a friend of mine, and I want it to stop.”
Eddie looked blank. “Who?” he asked at last.
“Russell Crannaker. I want you to leave him alone.”
The look on Eddie’s face changed to pure astonishment.
Russell bared his fangs, hissing as he did.
“Right,” said Eddie quickly. “I leave him alone, and you leave me alone. Right?”
“You’ve got it,” said Russell. “But don’t forget, or . . .” He paused, looking for a stern enough threat, but finally ended with, “. . . or you’ll be very, very sorry.”
It seemed to do the trick. “I won’t,” whimpered Eddie. “I promise!”
Roaring with laughter, Russell flapped his wings and soared back into the night sky. He flew until he was out of Eddie’s sight, then settle d beside a tree in Stearns Park. He was still chuckling. Frightening Eddie like that was the most satisfying thing he had ever done. Now to change back—and test Eddie’s resolution to leave him alone.
He grasped the ring. As before, it was hard to turn. But his claws were strong. He twisted it on his finger, said the familiar words, and waited.
Nothing happened.
ELEVEN
Partners
Russell couldn’t believe it.
He must have done something wrong.
He tried again.
Nothing—absolutely nothing.
He tried again . . . and again . . . and again.
It was no use. The ring wasn’t working!
Now what?
The directions. He had to get the directions!
Stretching his leathery wings, Russell soared into the air and headed for home.
To his relief, the backyard was empty. Folding his wings, he dropped straight down, then extended them just in time to break the fall. Gliding silently to his bedroom, he stuck his head through the window.
That was all he could stick through! No matter how he folded his wings behind him, they were too big to pass through the frame.
Now what?
Heart pounding with panic, he flew away from the house. His mind was working even faster than his wings. But he couldn’t think of what to do—until he spotted Eddie staggering along the street below him.
Russell flew ahead. He landed on the roof of one of the buildings, then climbed down the wall to hide in the alley—the same alley, he suddenly realized, where he had played at being Frankenstein’s monster, and where he had recently had a conversation with two rats.
He waited in the shadows at the mouth of the alley, then called Eddie’s name as he walked past.
“What do you want now?” screamed Eddie. “I told you I’d leave Russell alone.”
“I have to talk to you,” said Russell, trying to keep his voice from booming too much. “Step in here.”
Eddie hesitated.
Russell let a growl rumble in his throat, then sai
d, “I can fly faster than you can even think of running. If I wanted to catch you, I could have done it anytime. I want to talk to you. Now get in here!”
Eddie stepped into the alley.
“Follow me,” said Russell, then walked farther along the alley so that they would be out of sight of the street. When he felt they were in a safe spot, he turned and said, “I saved you from those teenagers, right?”
“Yes . . .”
“So you know I’m not going to hurt you, right?”
Eddie hesitated, then said, “I guess so.”
“Okay, now I’m going to tell you something else. Remember how I said Russell Crannaker was a friend of mine?”
Eddie nodded.
“That wasn’t the whole story.” He paused, then said, “Eddie, I am Russell.”
Eddie looked blank.
“This is me, Eddie. Russell. Russell Crannaker!”
Eddie stared at him incredulously. “What do you mean, you’re Russell? That’s impossible!”
“Do you remember yesterday in school?” asked Russell.
“You mean when Russell wore that crazy costume and . . . and . . .” A look of astonishment blossomed in Eddie’s eyes. “You mean that wasn’t a costume?”
Russell shook his monstrous head from side to side.
Eddie turned even paler. His eyes got wider. His lips worked, but the only sound that came out was “Buh . . . buh . . . buh . . .”
He looked like a goldfish.
Russell smiled. It was clear that Eddie had just decided he’d been taking his life in his hands every time he bothered poor, puny Russell Crannaker.
Finally, Eddie found his voice. “H-h-how come you let me get away with all that stuff?”
He squeaked. It was pathetic.
Inspiration struck. Shrugging his great wings, Russell said, “Punks like you don’t bother me. I have more important things to worry about.”
He was inwardly delighted. That offhand dismissal should finish convincing Eddie that Russell could have destroyed him at any time.