“Pretty! Hello!” cried Little Dumpling, reaching toward them.
The face of the monster farthest to our right was hidden within the shadow of a large hood. I wondered if the creature wore the hood because it was too horrible to look at. It was the first to speak, saying in a low, surprisingly pleasant voice, “Welcome back, Poet.”
My grandfather gasped. Looking up at him, I whispered, “What is it, Gramps? What’s wrong?”
“Nothin’,” he said, shaking his head. “Nothin’, Lily.”
The look in his eyes told me that he didn’t mean it.
What was he hiding?
20
(Jacob)
THE COUNCIL OF POETS
When we entered the Council Chamber, the feeling that I had stepped into one of my grandfather’s books skyrocketed. As in his stories, everything was strange and scary yet somehow made you want to be there. What really upped that feeling was the fact that I had already seen three of these monsters on the cover of his last collection of short stories—the one published just before he disappeared.
Mrs. McSweeney put her hand on my shoulder. LD gurgled and patted her fingers, clearly glad she had joined us. Luna coiled around my feet. For some reason I felt well guarded.
“You do not come alone, High Poet,” remarked the slimy green creature sitting at the far left of the group. He was one of the ones I had recognized. Just as my grandfather had described, his voice had a gurgling quality. “In fact,” he continued, “you have returned with a small crowd.”
“That was not my plan,” rumbled Keegel Farzym. “But when reality meets intent, intent is what gets bent.”
“Tch,” said a furry something sitting just to the right of the center chair. “The High Poet should not indulge in doggerel.”
Keegel Farzym walked around the table and settled into that center chair. He picked up the hammer, thwacked it on the flat rock, and said, “I declare this meeting of the Council of Poets to be in session.” He glanced to his right and sighed. “Ed, are you here?”
“I’m here,” replied a gloomy voice from the seemingly empty chair next to the slimy green guy.
Keegel Farzym sighed again. “You know that the rules specify you must appear to us for the meeting to be official.”
A grumbling sound came from the chair. Slowly a form took shape. It was so horrible that I cried out and turned away. I heard Lily gasp and noticed that even the other monsters were averting their eyes.
“Satisfied?” asked the gloomy voice.
“That will do, Ed,” said Keegel Farzym. “But you know it was necessary.” After another moment passed, he said to us humans, “It’s safe to look now.”
I turned my eyes toward the table.
Ed’s chair appeared to be empty once more.
“Allow me to introduce my comrades,” said Keegel Farzym. “In the chair farthest to your left is Bu-Blasian.”
The slimy green creature nodded his head in greeting. Green droplets fell from his brow to the table in front of him.
“You can call him Bubbles,” suggested the gloomy voice from the chair next to him.
“Shut up, Ed!” snapped Bu-Blasian.
Keegel Farzym sighed yet again. “The chair next to Bu-Blasian is occupied by Invisible Ed. He is called this because he spends most of his time out of sight, as an act of courtesy to the rest of us.”
“You mean he’s too ugly even for other monsters?” asked Gnarly, who seemed to have no idea of what the word rude meant.
“Hah!” snapped Ed. “You might think so, human. The truth is, I’m so beautiful, it embarrasses them.”
Keegel Farzym rolled his enormous eyes. Gesturing to his immediate right, he said, “And this is Syreena.”
I shivered. I had been trying to draw Syreena on the first night LD transformed into a monster.
Unmistakably female, Syreena was nearly as tall as the High Poet, and very slender. She wore a form-fitting scarlet dress and had long, jet-black hair that set off her snow-pale skin. Her deep, hollow eyes were oddly beautiful. A pair of glittering fangs protruded from between her lips, and from her back rose a pair of ice-white wings that looked as if they belonged on the ghost of a giant bat.
“Pleazzzed to meet you,” she murmured, nodding slightly.
Turning to his left, the High Poet gestured to the furry monster and said, “This is Bloodbone, sometimes known as Fang.”
“Or, on occasion, Rover,” put in the hooded monster at the end of the table.
Bloodbone growled deep in his throat. I couldn’t tell if this was a greeting or a response to that last comment. Bloodbone didn’t have a face that I could make out. All I could see was a pair of large, intelligent-looking eyes peering out from the mass of shaggy brown hair that filled the chair. Also a shiny black nose.
Between Bloodbone and the hooded monster sat a golden-haired woman who had only one eye. It was centered above her nose and bigger than a tennis ball.
Other than this, she was quite beautiful.
“I am Iris,” she said, not waiting for the High Poet to introduce her. She nodded a greeting, causing her golden hair to flow forward.
Taking control of the situation again, Keegel Farzym said, “And at the end of the table is Teelamun.”
The hooded monster nodded, much as Iris had.
Turning to look directly at us, Keegel Farzym said, “Step forward, please, and introduce yourselves to my fellow Poets.”
Lily and Gnarly looked at me, as if to say, You got us into this—you go first. Swallowing hard, I took a step toward the table and said, “My name is Jacob Doolittle.”
“And it was to your home that Dum Pling was delivered?” asked Iris, the one-eyed monster.
“Yes. I found him on our doorstep.”
An uneasy murmur rippled among the Poets.
“Those marks on your face look fresh,” said Iris. “Did you acquire them since you arrived here in Always October?”
I nodded, then said, “I had … an encounter with someone named Octavia.”
Iris glanced at Keegel Farzym, and I saw him wince. I wondered if she, like Mrs. McSweeney, thought he should have done a better job preventing that situation.
“Before you leave, we will provide some ointment that will help heal them more quickly,” she said. Her face grew serious. “While I am glad you escaped her clutches, I must ask this: Did she pronounce any, um … curses on you when you got away?”
I felt my face grow red, which made the burns hurt all the more. “She said someone has to pay for us getting away.”
“Pay … how?” persisted Iris.
I swallowed hard. “She said someone has to die before we can return home. But it was just a threat, wasn’t it? She can’t hold us here, can she?”
Keegel Farzym looked grim. “I wish you had told me this earlier.”
“Nothing you could have done, Poet,” said Iris. Turning to me, she said, “Answer me this, Jacob: Did she say it was a curse or a prophecy?”
I thought for a moment. “Prophecy,” I said at last.
“Well, that’s better than a curse, at least,” said Bloodbone.
“Yes,” said Iris. “Let us hope that, like most prophecies, it is not quite what it seems.”
“And you others?” asked Syreena.
Lily and Gnarly stepped up beside me. “I’m Lily Carker,” she said. “And this is my grampa, Gnarly.”
Gnarly nodded and wheezed something that sounded like a greeting.
“And how is it that you two are here?” asked Bloodbone, sniffing as if he smelled something suspicious.
“Grampa and I live at the cemetery. We sort of got here by accident,” said Lily. Then, looking straight at Keegel Farzym, she said, “When are you going to tell us what’s going on?”
Another murmur rippled among the Poets. Keegel Farzym lifted the stone hammer and banged the flat rock. “The girl has a right to ask. I promised to enlighten them. The time has come.”
After a few grumbles, the others f
ell silent.
“As I told you,” said Keegel Farzym, “our council is opposed by a group of monsters who wish to unravel the threads that bind our worlds together. Mazrak, the monster who invaded Jacob’s home tonight and then pursued us back here, is leader of that group.”
“But why do they want LD?” I asked, mystified. “For that matter, why did LD’s mother bring him to my house to begin with?”
Keegel Farzym paused. When he continued, his voice was thick with unhappiness. “The baby’s mother is named Meer Askanza. Her mate, Gergrik, is part of the group that wants to divide the worlds. Though she no longer dared to say so openly, Meer Askanza disagrees with this. She brought Dum Pling to your world to stop the Unraveling. It was a dangerous journey, but she undertook it to save both worlds.”
Iris, the one-eyed monster, added, “As to why she came to your house, we are not sure. The original plan was for her to head for the home of the McSweeney. Obviously, something went wrong.”
I turned to look at Mrs. McSweeney, who simply said, “Meer Askanza was pursued and had to change her plans.”
Keegel Farzym took a deep breath and bowed his head. I sensed a deep sorrow in him.
“But why would having the baby in our world do anything to prevent this, er … Unraveling?” asked Lily.
Syreena fluttered her wings and said, “The baby vas brought to your verld because vile he is there, the Great Unraveling cannot take place. His presence is like a knot that binds the verlds together.”
“Couldn’t one of you come and do the same thing?” I asked.
She shook her head. “That vould not verk. It has to be the baby.”
“This baby and no other?” I asked, holding LD closer.
“This baby and no other,” affirmed Invisible Ed.
“Actually, we have no other babies like this one just now,” added Iris. “In fact, we rarely have babies of any sort. They do happen sometimes, but most of us just … well, appear.”
“Full-grown?” I asked, startled.
She shook her head and smiled. “No, usually in what seems to be our early teens.”
I remembered Keegel Farzym saying that Sploot Fah had not been around long. I wondered if that was what had happened with him—if he had just appeared one day.
“Actual babies are rare,” continued Iris. “But … well, they are another matter altogether.”
Keegel Farzym nodded.
“So how do monster babies happen?” asked Lily.
I groaned. I so did not want a lecture on the “facts of life” from a group of monsters! However, Keegel Farzym’s answer was not what I expected. Looking uncomfortable, the High Poet said, “This is where it gets complicated. You see, this babe is not entirely of this world.”
Lily and I glanced at each other.
“What do you mean?” I asked after a moment.
“Sometimes there is … crossover between our worlds. It is not unknown for humans and Octobrians to fall in love. Even, on rare occasion, to have children.”
“Are you saying LD is half human?” cried Lily.
The High Poet shook his head. “Not half. One-quarter. A generation has passed since the romance that led to his existence. But human blood does indeed course through his veins. That is why he appears human most of the time in your world. It is his natural aspect for Humana. That is also why he retains his Octobrish form here … it is his natural aspect for this world.”
Bloodbone spoke up, saying, “Of course, here in Always October he will turn human on the one night of the month when there is no moon.”
“Naturally,” agreed Keegel Farzym. “But that is beside the point. The main thing is that his presence in Humana will bind our worlds together. As long as Dum Pling is there, the Unraveling cannot occur and the Tapestry will continue to connect us. But every moment that he remains in Always October increases the danger that the Unravelers will act. Therefore, it is imperative he be returned to Humana as quickly as possible.”
“Returned and protected,” put in Invisible Ed, his voice as gloomy as usual. “He is the last of his line. Should he perish—perish the thought—there will be no defense left against the Unraveling.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “If Dum Pling being part monster and part human binds the worlds together when he is in our world, then why doesn’t it do the same thing when he’s here in Always October?”
“A reasonable question with a simple answer,” said Teelamun. “As the High Poet told you, the bloodline is not an even divide, and Dum Pling is only one-quarter human. That is not enough to bind the worlds when he is here. The fact that he is three-quarters monster, yet maintains a human aspect, is what makes his presence in your world such a powerful link.”
It was only the third time Teelamun had spoken, and though I had been uncertain the first time I heard her, now I was sure: The deep, clear, pleasant voice was definitely female.
I nodded. “So we need to get him home as quickly as possible, right?”
“Correct,” burbled Bu-Blasian.
Keegel Farzym shook his head. “Correct, but incomplete. To return to Humana is going to be far more difficult than it was to cross to Always October.”
“And then, of course,” said Teelamun, “there is—the other thing.”
21
(Lily)
THE SILVER SLICER
It wasn’t just Jake who got nervous at that moment. I saw the Poets glance at one another uneasily, then heard an odd tapping. I realized it was Invisible Ed, drumming his fingers on the table.
Syreena was the first to speak. “The thing is, it vould be best if Dum Pling vere not allowed to transform for the next few years.”
“Why?” I asked. “It’s cooler than the Wolfman’s new hairdo when he does!”
Syreena looked at me sharply. “For vun thing, it vill frighten the poor child more and more until he is old enough to understand vat is happenink!”
I nodded. “I see what you mean.”
“That is not the main reason,” said Teelamun, impatiently. “The main reason is that the energy given off by his transformation would enable the enemy to open a portal to your world. That is how Mazrak came through tonight. Unless you want another visit from him or one of his friends, you must prevent Dum Pling from reverting to his Octobrish self.”
“And how are we supposed to do that?” asked Jacob.
Again the monsters glanced at one another, looking even more uncomfortable than before. Finally Keegel Farzym said, “The method of preventing the transformation is simple. However, there is a side effect that … complicates things.”
“Oh, fer Pete’s sake, git to the point,” snapped Grampa.
“There is a … bracelet. If brought into contact with the baby on a daily basis, it will collect the Octobrish energy building in his body. With that energy absorbed and the bracelet removed, the rise of the full moon will have no effect on him.”
“And what happens to that stored-up energy?” asked Mrs. McSweeney, giving me the sense that she knew certain rules about how these things work.
Keegel Farzym took a deep breath, then said, “There are two possible outcomes. The first is simple: If the bracelet is not being worn, moonrise will activate the accumulated energy and the bracelet will explode. This will be fairly damaging to anything within ten feet of the bracelet. It will also mean there is no way to prevent the baby’s transformation in the month that follows. Ergo, the bracelet must be worn.”
“Well, that ain’t gonna work,” said Gramps. “It can’t fit the baby and then fit someone else!”
Keegel Farzym smiled. “You assume a nonmagical item, Mr. Carker, in which case what you say would be true. Fortunately, this bracelet has the quality of adjusting its size to fit whoever wears it. Thus it will fit Dum Pling when placed on his wrist, and also any human who chooses to wear it, no matter how big or small.”
“Very clever, Poet,” said Mrs. McSweeney. “And I’m quite sure I can convince Jacob’s mother to keep the band
upon the babe if I tell her it’s a good-luck gift from his unofficial grandmama.”
Jacob spoke up. “You said there are two possible outcomes. One is that the bracelet explodes. What’s the second?”
“It’s that the bracelet is being worn, and the energy is transferred to whoever is wearing it.”
“And what will happen to that person?” persisted Jake.
“He will discover his inner monster,” said Teelamun grimly.
“Only it won’t be inner any longer,” added Invisible Ed. “At least, not on those nights.”
Jacob nodded. “I had a feeling you were going to say that.”
“You mean the person wearing it will turn into a monster?” I asked eagerly.
“Precisely,” said Keegel Farzym.
“That’s slicker than the Creature from the Black Lagoon,” I muttered.
“What difference will it make?” asked Mrs. McSweeney. “Won’t the same energy still be released?”
The High Poet shook his head. “No, Eloise. Instead of radiating energy, as would Dum Pling if he were to make the transformation, the human who wears the bracelet will absorb the energy.”
“In other verds, the energy goes in, rather than out,” said Syreena. “Thus it vill be undetectable.”
“You’ll need to keep a careful eye on the bracelet,” put in Iris. “The timing must be exact, as the window of opportunity will be small.”
“And just how are we supposed to know when the time is right?” asked Jacob, who was now ghost pale. I knew what he was thinking—that since he was the one who actually lived with Little Dumpling, he was the obvious candidate.
Bloodbone shrugged. “When the bracelet glows, the time is right.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” muttered Jacob.
Little Dumpling reached up and patted him on the cheek.
Grampa, Mrs. McSweeney, and I moved closer to Jake’s side. As we did, I thought I saw a movement in the wall to the left of the table. I blinked and started to point, but whatever I had seen was gone.