Christopher and Dirk sat in Dirk’s room, poring over various maps and notes scattered all over the room. Dirk had drawn a big map from memory of the various planes and dimensions around the Darklands, and had written a list of all the possible spells and ceremonies that could conceivably be used to travel between them. Everywhere lay jottings and scribblings, usually explaining why this or that spell or ritual wouldn’t work.
Dirk put his head in his hands. “It’s no good, Christopher, I just can’t find a way to get through to the Darklands. The Ceremony of the Eclipse of the Gates of the World is the only one we could even think about getting the ingredients for, but that also needs an eclipse, and there isn’t going to be one of those any time soon. What are we going to do?”
“You say that, Dirk, but what about this one, The Sundering of the Walls of the Worlds? It needs the blood of an evil dictator—well, that could be you, right, the feathers of a Black Storm Crow—we’ve actually got one of those right here!”
Dave the Storm Crow gave a caw of outrage. Chris stared at it for a moment. It was almost as if it understood exactly what he’d just said.
Dirk gave a little knowing smile. “Go on, Chris, what else?” he said.
“Well, the spell has to be cast in a place that is used for travel or movement—we’ve got loads of those on earth, like a train station or a bus station or an airport!”
“True,” said Dirk. “Go on.”
“And then you need a Reality Knife for cutting the fabric of the universe itself … Oh …,” said Chris.
“No, no, we could actually make one of those, it could be done,” said Dirk, “so go on.”
“Let me see now … Ah, the still-beating heart of an innocent … recently torn from their breast with the Claw of Ripping Death … Oh … ah … I see.”
“Yes,” said Dirk. “You see the problem, huh? The Claw of Ripping Death is a spell that won’t work on this plane.”
“Oh, that’s the problem, huh? Not, you know, killing someone or anything!” said Chris.
“Well, I did consider ripping out your heart, as you’re perfect for the sacrifice, but it has to be done with the spell, and that’s that,” retorted Dirk.
Chris went pale for a moment, unsure as to whether Dirk was joking or not. Dave the Storm Crow hopped from foot to foot, cawing loudly. Chris stared at it in fascination once more. Was it laughing at him?
Chris frowned in irritation. “Anyway,” he said, “I’m not innocent, I’m really bad!”
“Oh, please!” said Dirk dismissively. “Like you’re ‘so baaad.’ I mean, when was the last time you even got a detention?”
Chris made a face. “All right, all right—but did you really think about sacrificing me like that?” he said worriedly.
“Of course,” said Dirk. “You’d make an excellent sacrifice!”
Chris’s jaw dropped.
Then Dirk chuckled and slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, old friend, I’m joking,” he said. “I’d never do that to you!”
Chris grinned with relief, that’s just what he’d wanted to hear. Of course he wouldn’t do that, of course not!
“Well, not to rescue Sooz, at any rate,” said Dirk absentmindedly as he turned back to his spell lists, his astrological charts, star maps, and inter-planar cartograms.
Chris frowned. He continued to search the spell lists, but every now and then he would glance over at Dirk, that worried look back on his face.
After a while, Dirk looked up. “What? What is it Christopher?” he said.
“You wouldn’t really sacrifice me would you?”
“No, of course not, I told you,” said Dirk.
“Yeah, but … but what if it was … Well, say if it was to save yourself or something?” said Chris.
“Ah, to save myself! Well, now, that’s a different matter,” said Dirk, and he gazed up at the ceiling, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
Chris gaped at him. Surely he wouldn’t!
Dirk looked back at him. “I don’t think I would.” Then he saw Chris’s face, and he laughed.
“No, no, I wouldn’t, of course not,” he said reassuringly. Chris smiled back at him weakly.
“That’s okay then,” Chris said. And then nodded, having convinced himself thoroughly of the matter. Of course he wouldn’t! His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden loud knock on the door.
“Hold on a second,” said Dirk. Quickly he shooed the crow out of the window and hid his strange maps and charts as best he could.
“You may enter the domain of the Great One,” he said imperiously.
The door opened, and in walked Dumpsy Deary. Dirk narrowed his eyes and prepared himself for some kind of magical assault while Chris actually flinched in his chair.
The White Lady stood there and then smiled a creepy, red-tongued smile.
“What do you want, Witch?” Dirk said commandingly.
That just made her smile even more. With a sneer of contempt she tossed a sheet of black paper at Dirk. Words were written on it in white ink. Dirk snatched it up and read it. Chris read it over his shoulder.
“Bah, I do not believe you,” said Dirk. “It’s a trick!”
The White Lady smiled again, and tossed a cell phone at Dirk’s feet.
“Sooz’s phone!” said Christopher in shocked surprise. This was followed quickly by something else.
“By the Nine Netherworlds, Sooz’s AngelBile bag! It cannot be!” said Dirk, leaping to his feet.
Christopher gasped, and Dirk’s face fell. “Noooo!” he cried. “They have her, they have my Sooz!”
Miss Deary began to cackle insanely, her maniacal laughter getting louder and louder.
“Heh, heh, heh! HEH, HEH, HEH, HEH, HEH!”
She turned and left the room, her laughter echoing down the hall. Dirk hung his head dejectedly. The Storm Crow flew back in through the window to perch beside them once more. It gave a caw of despair, as if in sympathy.
“What’s going on?” said Christopher. “What’s the White Tower?”
“It is the lair of Hasdruban. He has taken her. That means he has defeated her armies and everything. It also means he has my Ring. This is a disaster! I have to get back to the Darklands or all is lost! But how, how?”
Chris gazed at the freaky bird, thinking. He cocked his head, struck by a sudden thought.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “How did Miss Deary get Sooz’s phone and her bag? I mean, she must have gone to the Darklands, picked them up, and then come back again, right?”
“By the Nether Gods, Chris, you’re right!” said Dirk, his face lighting up with a kind of unholy glee. Then his brow furrowed. “But then again, they could have just sent her stuff over. Though actually, either way, there has to be some way of getting back and forth. We have to find out how! You are a genius, Christopher, a genius—well, as far as a puny human can be a genius, that is!”
“No problem, your Dirkness, happy to help,” said Chris, grinning. It wasn’t often Dirk called him a genius! Though he did call him a puny human fairly often.
“All we have to do is follow her, find out how she does it,” said Dirk.
Chris frowned. “Won’t be so easy to follow her, she’ll be on her bike for starters, but also, she’s … Well, she’s pretty alert. She’ll spot us!”
“Hmm, you are right, Chris, she can sense us, it is true. Holy Awareness and all that,” said Dirk thoughtfully, stroking his chin like some kind of super-villain—which of course he was.
“Ah,” said Dirk, “I have it! We’ll send Dave the Storm Crow to track her, and we’ll follow the bird! That way she’ll never spot us!”
“Awesome!” said Chris. “But how will you get the crow to follow her?”
“Easy,” said Dirk. “Dave!” he said addressing the crow. The bird looked up at him, blinking. Dirk leaned down and began to whisper something in its ear. After a short while the crow gave a caw of delight, and flew out of the window to perch on the roof gutter overlooking the Purejoies’ back porch.
“There,” said Dirk, “he is waiting for that absurd do-gooder, Humpsy Jeery, to leave the house. Then he will track the Witch, and we shall track the crow!”
The little girl sat on a hard wooden bench in a dirt-floored, stone-walled prison cell and cried. Her hair was a mess and the makeup on her face was streaked with dirt and tears—many tears. Her black, silver-threaded dress was ripped and torn, and her bare feet were scratched and bleeding. One of her hands was bandaged up roughly, the other was badly bruised where a ring had been roughly ripped from her finger.
She was alone.
