As I sat at the kitchen table that Friday night, sneaking tidbits of food to Luna, I wondered if I should warn Mrs. McSweeney about what might happen. Problem was, I couldn’t figure out how to bring it up without sounding like I had gone bonkers.
Maybe she would just sleep through the whole thing.
The thought wasn’t all that comforting.
Of course, that was assuming it was actually going to happen.
I wondered if I would hear that voice again. Well, not if I had to go back in the closet to do so; I had no intention of doing that a second time. But I kept thinking about what the voice had said about the baby not being ours. I knew he wasn’t ours, not really. But the note in the basket certainly made it seem as if he had been left on our porch by his mother. Was the note a fake? Had LD been kidnapped? If he didn’t belong in our world, it would be good if his people could come for him, wouldn’t it? Was that what the voice intended to do?
I hated that idea, and I knew Mom would totally freak out. On the other hand, we didn’t really have a right to the baby. And what about when he became a teenager? They grow hair and get weird all on their own. Who knew what would happen if you added a monthly monster transformation into that mix?
These things were tumbling through my mind as—an hour after Mrs. McSweeney had tucked LD in for the night—I quietly set up the camera and tripod in the little guy’s room. True to my father’s style, the camera was top quality. By plugging it in so it didn’t rely on battery power, then setting the image quality to a lower resolution, I could record for nearly four hours before the cartridge was full.
I couldn’t decide if I should stay in the room or not. Part of me wanted to be as far from here as possible. Another part felt I should be present to witness whatever happened.
I decided to stay but moved the rocking chair next to the door, in case I needed to make a quick escape.
Then I settled in to watch.
Under the circumstances, I didn’t think it would be possible to fall asleep. Somehow, I did. I don’t know how much time passed before a noise woke me.
I rubbed my eyes, then blinked. The room was oddly bright. After a moment I realized the light came from the full moon shining through the window. At the same time a series of snorts from LD’s crib brought everything back to me. It was monster time!
I hurried to the crib.
Green fur had sprouted again all over the baby’s sleeping form, his ears were larger than ever, and he had to be two or three inches taller than when Mrs. McSweeney had put him to bed.
I decided I needed a close-up, so I went to the camera to adjust the settings. Though I tried to be quiet, my movements woke Little Dumpling. The baby opened his eyes, blinked, then scrambled to his feet—an infant monster in duckie pajamas that were splitting at the seams. As I had the sudden thought that I hoped he wouldn’t outgrow his diaper, he clutched the bars of the crib, threw back his head, and howled.
Answering howls sounded from outside the house.
A cold shiver raced down my spine. Then I heard another set of noises, this time coming from the closet!
I turned. A sliver of light had appeared under the closet door. That was disturbing, since I knew the light bulb in there wasn’t working. Even more disturbing, thick tendrils of smoke, glowing red and smelling of sulfur, began curling out.
The doorknob rattled as if being turned from the inside. The rattling stopped, replaced by a pounding so fierce that the door bulged outward.
The smell of sulfur grew thicker.
“Up!” pleaded a voice. “Up! Up!”
LD was urgently stretching his furry little arms in my direction. In one hand—or was it a paw?—he was holding that green rattle. I quickly adjusted the camera to a wide view so that it took in both crib and closet, then raced to get the baby.
“Up! Up! Up!” he cried.
His obvious fear melted my heart, and I hoisted the little guy into my arms, desperately hoping he wouldn’t sink his still-sprouting fangs into my neck.
“I think we should get out of here, kiddo,” I said.
“OUT!” agreed Little Dumpling.
I backed toward the hall. Before I had gone three steps, the closet door burst open. Inside was an orange-skinned, red-eyed, fang-mouthed monster. Visible only from the waist up, the bare-chested, scaly creature was bathed in red light and surrounded by billows of curling smoke. Raising an enormous, muscle-bound arm, he pointed a thick finger at me and said, “I’m glad to see you were ready. Please bring me the baby.”
Despite the harshness of the creature’s voice, his words were calm, even pleasant. I might have considered doing as he asked, despite the way he looked, if LD hadn’t locked his arms around my neck, screaming in terror.
My stomach twisted. If the baby had shouted, “Daddy!” I could have handed him to the monster in the closet with a clear conscience and left the two of them to enjoy their reunion while I got my butt out of there. But the way LD clung to me, howling and trembling, made it impossible to consider that.
I would have got my butt out at that point anyway, taking the baby with me, except my legs had stopped working. The only thing that kept me from melting into a puddle of terror was that the monster in the closet didn’t seem able to move either. Well, that wasn’t quite true. He was moving but appeared to be struggling against some invisible barrier.
“You will need to bring me the baby,” said the monster. “He must return home, and I cannot yet enter the room.”
I heaved a sigh of relief. I wasn’t sure how long “yet” would last, but at least I had some breathing space. And even though the monster sounded like a grizzly bear might if it learned to speak, his tone had remained reasonable. But why was Little Dumpling screaming and trembling this way?
“Bring me the baby!” ordered the creature in the closet. This time his voice held a sharper edge.
“NO!” screamed Little Dumpling, tightening his hairy arms around my neck. He dug in his claws a bit as he did. “NO! NO! NO!”
As if things weren’t bad enough, at that moment the window slid up and another monster thrust his head into the room!
That was too much. My legs suddenly working again, I ran for the door.
It slammed shut in my face.
Little Dumpling howled in new terror.
Ignoring the fact that I had missed the lamp and the back of the chair, I touched the doorknob three times and tried to turn it.
It was frozen in place.
I struggled with it for a moment, then pivoted and pressed my shoulders against the wood, realizing I didn’t want my back to the monsters.
Looking to the window, I saw that the new arrival was deep blue. His head was bald, but he had a bushy black beard, so long that it disappeared from sight beneath the sill. A single eye stared at me; a black patch covered the spot where the other eye should have been. Looking directly at me, the newcomer growled, “If you wish to live to see morning, come with me!”
Though I was sure I wanted to live to see morning, I was not sure that going with this guy was the way to do it. Little Dumpling was no help. Furry face buried against my shoulder, he whimpered, “No, no! Bad, bad, bad!” But whether he was referring to the first monster, the second monster, or life in general at that moment, I couldn’t tell.
The monster in the closet—the orange guy with red eyes—turned toward the monster in the window. “Do not interfere, Keegel Farzym! You know the baby is ours!” Turning back to me, he bellowed, “Bring … me … that … child!”
A terrible ripping sound filled the air as the monster thrust his right arm into the room, tearing through whatever invisible force had been holding him back. The smell of sulfur grew stronger. The monster’s hand—enormous and orange, its long fingers tipped with fierce black claws—stretched toward me.
I heard a pounding on the door and feared it was yet another monster until I heard Mrs. McSweeney shout, “Jacob! Jacob, what’s going on?”
Frantic, I turned again, grabbed the doorknob with my free hand, and twisted with all my might. “Mrs. McSweeney!” I cried. “Mrs. McSweeney! Help!”
She stopped pounding on the door. For a terrible instant I feared she had fled, but almost at once I heard her chant some strange words I could not understand. She stopped, and I heard her try to work the knob.
“Jacob!” she cried. “Try it from your side!”
The knob still wouldn’t budge. I wanted to use both hands, but LD was clinging to me so tightly, I couldn’t put him down to try.
Bracing one foot against the wall, I yanked with all my strength.
Nothing.
“No, no, no!” whimpered Little Dumpling again as he tightened his grip on my neck. “Bad! Bad!”
That horrible shredding sound repeated. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the orange monster thrust his other arm into the room. He leaned forward, stretching both hands toward us.
“Mazrak will break through in seconds!” bellowed the blue monster, the one called Keegel Farzym.
Mazrak! That was the name Lily had found in my father’s journal, the one who had wanted him to “go to the cave.” Who was he? Was he responsible for my father’s disappearance? Turning toward the orange monster, I screamed, “What did you do to my father?”
“Bring me the baby and I’ll tell you!”
“Jacob, do not give him the baby!” cried Mrs. McSweeney through the door.
“If you don’t want Mazrak to capture you, get over here now!” roared Keegel Farzym.
My head was spinning. Mazrak must know what had happened to my father. But I could not imagine handing the baby over to him.
“Jacob, do as he says!” cried Mrs. McSweeney.
“Do as who says?” I screamed.
“Keegel Farzym!”
Mazrak’s anger was growing, his shouts getting louder, his red eyes blazing with rage. Suddenly the window didn’t seem like such a bad idea—or wouldn’t have if not for the fact that to get to it, I would have to pass uncomfortably close to the closet and Mazrak’s grasping hands.
“Hurry!” bellowed the monster at the window.
“Do it, Jacob!” cried Mrs. McSweeney.
I bolted forward. Mazrak lunged for me, but the invisible barrier still held him from the waist down. I bounded over the bed to the window. Mazrak roared with new fury.
“Give me the baby,” ordered Keegel Farzym.
His voice was urgent but surprisingly gentle. Even so, I hesitated—until LD twisted in my arms and reached toward the bearded creature. Deciding to trust the baby’s instincts—I figured he should know more about monsters than I did—I passed the baby to Keegel Farzym. He tucked LD under his right arm.
The baby almost disappeared beneath the monster’s enormous beard.
Grasping the sill with his left hand, Keegel Farzym swung sideways and said, “Climb on my back!”
“I can’t go with you!”
“You would rather stay here with Mazrak?”
Another roar from the closet, followed by more ripping sounds, banished my doubts. With a yelp of terror, I scrambled through the window and onto Keegel Farzym’s back.
I had scarcely placed my hands on his shoulders when he leaped to the ground, which was about twelve feet below. The jolt of landing shook my teeth but didn’t seem to bother Keegel Farzym, who immediately loped away from the house.
I heard a ferocious roar from behind. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Mazrak’s face at the window.
“He’s broken through!” I screamed. “Faster!”
Little Dumpling began to wail.
Keegel Farzym’s pace was handicapped by the fact that he was clutching Little Dumpling at his side and had me clinging to his back. So when I glanced over my shoulder again and saw Mazrak squeezing through the window, I feared it wouldn’t be long before the orange beast caught up with us.
I felt an insane urge to kick Keegel Farzym’s sides and shout, “Giddyap!” Only I didn’t know whether that would encourage him to run faster or simply to turn around and kill me. I sank my fingers into his beard—the coarse black hairs were as thick as my mother’s yarn—and held on for dear life.
Keegel Farzym circled the house, barreled along the driveway, and turned onto the road. The night was misty. Wisps of fog, made bright by the full moon, swirled as high as the monster’s knees.
I heard a howl, then another. Then a pack of wolves leaped from out of the darkness. I flinched, bracing myself for their attack. It never came. Instead they ran alongside Keegel Farzym, who gasped, “Welcome! Welcome, children of the night!”
A moment later I saw where we were heading. I should have guessed anyway. The cemetery lay dead ahead.
Mazrak was only steps behind us now, still roaring his anger.
“Geer-up, Hai!” shouted Keegel Farzym.
At these words the wolves turned away. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw them form a half circle in front of Mazrak. They crouched and growled, as if daring him to try to get past them.
The orange monster bellowed a curse. Then he spread his arms and began to chant. His voice, deep and powerful, gave me chills. After a moment he slammed his hands together, making a sound like a small explosion. Even as far away as we now were I caught a whiff of something unpleasant. The wolves uttered a series high-pitched yelps, then bolted into the darkness.
“You can’t escape me, Keegel Farzym!”
The words were terrifying—though not as terrifying as the knowledge that if the orange monster managed to catch up with us, I would be the first thing within his grasp.
Reaching the cemetery, Keegel Farzym raced through the gate. He waved his arm. The gate, which had been rusted open for as long as I could remember, slammed shut.
Howling with renewed rage, Mazrak grabbed the iron bars and shook them like a prisoner in a jail cell. He shouted more words I couldn’t understand. Orange light crackled around his hands, and the gate burst open again.
Mazrak was in but again Keegel Farzym had bought us precious time. Leaping over marble headstones, ducking to avoid low branches, my bearded blue mount wove between patches of bright moonlight and dark areas where that same light caused the shadows of tombstones to stretch ahead of us like graves waiting to be filled.
I could tell Keegel Farzym was getting tired. He ducked behind the Crawford family tombstone, which was enormous, and leaned against it, gasping. Still clinging desperately to the monster’s beard, I held my breath and hoped Little Dumpling would stay quiet.
Mazrak snorted and growled off to our left. “You can’t hide from me!” he bellowed. “I’ll sniff you out, wherever you are.”
Little Dumpling whimpered.
“Shhh,” I hissed.
The baby fell quiet.
From the sound of his shouting, Mazrak was getting farther away. I thought we were safe.
Then Little Dumpling sneezed.
With a roar, Mazrak turned and came crashing toward us.
Keegel Farzym leaped to his feet. Only by grabbing another handful of beard did I manage to avoid slipping to the ground. He bolted toward the mausoleums. As he did, I realized he planned to go inside one.
“Don’t!” I cried. “We’ll be trapped!”
Ignoring my warning, Keegel Farzym shot into the very mausoleum Lily and I used for our hideout.
The door slammed shut behind us. Keegel Farzym pivoted toward it and chanted, waving his hands. A soft blue glow appeared around the doorframe. I had the feeling he was trying to seal it, to keep Mazrak out.
He turned again. The inside of the mausoleum should have been pitch-black. Instead, it was roiling with a gray mist, lit by jagged lines of bright purple that were shooting through it like tiny lightning bolts. Little Dumpling laughed and tried to catch one. I tried to stop him, afraid that he would get zapped. As I did, I brushed against one of the lines myself. It prickled, but not unpleasantly.
Mazrak had reached the mausoleum and was pounding on the door, his voice angrier than ever. Keegel Farzym started to run again. I braced myself for the collision with the back wall.
When it didn’t come, I felt a new wave of fear. Where’s the wall? I thought. Then, more importantly, Where are we?
The light shifted from the gray mist to something that spoke more of moonbeams in a forest. When we had gone a little farther, I heard a pleasant sound to our left. It took me a moment to realize it was a waterfall.
Clearly, we had left the mausoleum.
“Where are we?” I cried.
“Always October,” panted the monster.
Always October! The statement was both thrilling and bewildering. But before I could ask Keegel Farzym to explain, we spotted something that caused both of us to cry out in shock.