5

Gaspar’s Story

WHAT HAPPENED NEXT happened very fast. “Family Morleskievich, prepare for battle!” cried Gaspar.

Instantly, Ludmilla turned back into a bat. She flew toward Mr. Perkins and began to dive-bomb his head, causing him to shriek in concern. At the same time, Bob the werehuman dropped into a crouch and began snarling in a truly frightening fashion.

Even more astonishing was the way that Gaspar turned his back to Mr. Perkins and dropped to one knee. Albert came running toward him, put one foot in Gaspar’s cupped hands, and next thing I knew was flying through the air, right toward Mr. Perkins. He landed on the monkey’s stomach and began climbing up his chest. Mr. Perkins, shrieking in dismay, tried to paw the tiny hunchback off, but Ludmilla kept distracting him.

Only Melisande didn’t join in the battle. “You sssshouldn’t be sssso mean to him,” hissed her snakes, which were tangling around themselves in their excitement.

“Survival first, kindness second!” roared Gaspar. He turned back to Mr. Perkins and began snapping at his toes with his lizardy head.

The monkey had had enough. Turning, he barreled out of the bathroom and down the hall, shrieking as he went. For a second I was afraid he had taken Albert with him. Then I saw the hunchback’s fierce little face peering around the edge of the door, so he must have jumped off when Mr. Perkins decided to flee.

“Well done, family!” said Gaspar.

“I sssstill think it wassss mean,” said Melisande’s snakes. Letting them do the speaking left her free to make a pouty face.

“I thought it was great!” I said. “That monkey’s been a bully since the day he got here. It’s about time someone taught him a lesson.”

“Pleased to be of service,” said Gaspar. “Now, if you would be so kind as to conduct us to our home?”

“We still have to get dressed,” I said.

Gaspar nodded. “A sensible choice. Man should not face the elements without proper protection.”

“Do you think we should wake up Gramma?” asked Sarah.

I made my yeah, right! face at her.

She sighed. “I guess you’re right. Only it’s kind of scary to think about going alone.”

“You von’t be alone,” said Ludmilla. “You’ll haf us!”

“And it’s not like anyone lives there now,” I said, trying to sound braver than I felt.

“I wouldn’t necessarily count on that,” muttered Gaspar.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked sharply.

He shrugged. “Our world is vast and strange, Anthony. Our world is vast and strange.”

“Brother issss a bit of a philossssopher,” hissed Melisande, gazing at him lovingly.

 

THE CLOCK on the kitchen wall said 11:45.

Gramma Walker was snoring quietly in her bedroom.

Mr. Perkins glared at us from his perch in the corner of the kitchen, clearly nervous about the weird little creatures that had invaded the house.

And Sarah and I were dressed and ready to head for Morley Manor.

Before we left, we divided the monsters between us. Albert was riding in the right pocket of my yellow raincoat, Bob in the left. Ludmilla and Melisande were riding with Sarah. As for Gaspar, he was sitting on my collar, clinging to my ear to help him keep his balance.

“Ready?” I asked.

“Ready,” said Sarah, though the quaver in her voice made it clear she still wasn’t sure about this.

“Ready,” said Gaspar.

We stepped outside. The rain had stopped, but that appeared to be a temporary situation; dark clouds hid any sign of the stars and moon, and thunder was rumbling ominously in the distance.

“So much for finding out whether Bob should have returned to his own shape or not,” muttered Gaspar, glancing up at the pitch-black sky.

It felt weird to have Gaspar clinging to my ear like that, but the position allowed him talk to me, and as we slogged through the wet streets, he began telling me his story. Sarah moved closer, and he shouted a bit so that she could hear, too.

“I was born in Transylvania,” he started, “nearly a century ago. I was the second of a set of twin boys. My brother, Martin, beat me into the world by thirteen minutes and thirteen seconds.

“In those days Martin and I were identical not only in face but in feeling. Our minds and our hearts were as one. We thought the same thoughts, felt the same feelings. And the thing we felt most strongly of all was curiosity.

“One evening in the summer of our twelfth year—both our sisters had been born by then, though Melisande was still but a toddler—Martin and I scaled the wall of an ancient, half-ruined castle that stood a mile from our village.”

Lightning streaked down in the distance, and Gaspar paused to let the thunder rumble past us before he continued his story.

“The castle was said to be haunted. Martin and I set out to prove that it was not, though we half hoped that it was. We had told our parents we were going to be camping for the night. Our real plans were more daring. I doubt either of us would have attempted such a thing on our own. But together we would try anything, no matter how foolhardy.

“We spread our blankets on the floor of the great hall. As night fell, we heard strange rustlings and stirrings. We tried to explain them away—rats in the walls, the wind coming through a broken window. But then we heard, coming from below us, a moan that was unmistakably human—or at least something like a human.”

I shivered, and noticed that Sarah and I were walking closer together than we had been a minute earlier.

“‘Are you ready for this, brother?’ asked Martin.

“I’m at your side,’ I affirmed.

“Martin always took the lead in this way, claiming it was his right as elder, a fact that sometimes annoyed, sometimes comforted me. But when it was time to move, we always went together.

“Side by side, we descended the castle stairs, searching for that moaning. Suddenly Martin grabbed my arm. We stopped. In the darkness ahead of us loomed a tall, robed figure—not solid, not real flesh, but seeming to be just a milky glow. It reached out to us, and the sight sent autumn leaves whirling through my heart.”

Gaspar fell silent for a moment, lost in his memories.

“Who was it?” demanded Sarah. “What did you do?”

“My first thought was to flee. I probably would have, had I not had Martin at my side. Together, we stood our ground. ‘What do you want, strange spirit?’ asked Martin.”

“Why did you think it wanted anything at all?” I asked.

“Ghosts always want something,” said Sarah knowingly. “Otherwise they would just move on.”

“Precisely,” said Gaspar. “This spirit, as if freed to speak by Martin’s question, told us it was a wizard named Wentar. His unhappy shade was imprisoned in the castle halls as punishment for his misdeeds in life.” He paused, then added in a bitter voice, “I have since learned that this was not the complete truth.”

We heard a car coming, and ducked behind some bushes to hide. Its wheels hissed on the wet street, and it sent up a spray of water as it passed.

“Anyway,” Gaspar continued, once the car was gone, “Wentar asked for our aid in freeing his soul from its curse. Martin and I were glad to give that help, for it seemed like a grand adventure. However, the task he assigned us—finding and retrieving a huge jewel called ‘The Heart of Zentarazna’—turned out to be more terrifying than we could have imagined.”

“What did you have to do to get it?” asked Sarah eagerly.

“It’s a long story,” said Gaspar, “and I don’t have time to give you all the details right now. Let it be enough to say that in order to free him, we had to use a book hidden in a secret library in the castle’s eastern tower.” He chuckled. “When Wentar told us how to enter that well-concealed room, I do not think he suspected how Martin and I would react to those books. He had offered us gold for our help, but the real reward was the books themselves.”

“Why?” asked Sarah, stepping around a deep puddle. “Didn’t you have any of your own?”

“We had plenty of books,” said Gaspar. “Our father was a great scholar. But these books—ah, these books were filled with ancient and forbidden wisdom, the kind of secrets my twin and I had dreamed of finding, had spoken of in low whispers late at night, but had never truly believed we could possess. Oh, how those pages fired our imaginations! What strange paths of discovery they led us to!”

“Sounds exciting,” I said enviously.

Gaspar sighed. “It was. But there is a reason much of that knowledge is forbidden. Soon Martin and I were tampering with forces far beyond our comprehension, walking an edge of danger that we barely understood. Then one night Martin fell through a hole in the world.”

“Huh?” I said, not very intelligently.

“It was the most terrifying moment of my life,” said Gaspar, his voice heavy. “Worse, even, than the first instant when we saw Wentar. It happened one midnight when Martin and I were in the forest, tracing a maze in the center of a clearing. It was stupid of us; the magic we were playing with was far beyond our understanding. But we had talked ourselves into thinking it was a good idea. This is a specialty of teenage boys. Martin, who always insisted on going first, was walking the path ahead of me. I followed, holding a lantern. All of a sudden I heard him cry out. Then, in an instant, he disappeared—just vanished, right before my eyes.

“I was terrified—and frozen by uncertainty. Should I keep walking the maze, so that I would follow wherever he had gone? Should I wait for him? Should I run for help? I called his name over and over, but there was no answer, no sound at all save that of the wind whispering through the trees above me.”

Gaspar’s voice was heavy now. “I have never known if it was wisdom or cowardice that kept me from taking those next steps along the maze. Nor do I know how long I stood there, unable to turn back for fear I would break the spell and ruin Martin’s chance of returning, unable to move forward for fear I would disappear myself. I only know it was long enough for my body to ache with the effort of holding still, yet not long enough for morning to come.

“Finally, in a burst of green light, Martin did return. He was Martin, yet not Martin, for something about him was different. His spirit was darker. Sorrow colored his eyes. And of what had happened, where he had been, he would not speak at all. As time went on that reticence grew; where once there had been no secrets between us, now there were many. I no longer knew his heart as once I had.

“Despite this horrifying experience, we did not cease our visits to the castle library. If anything, Martin was more eager than ever to continue our investigations. They were thrilling. Yet my heart was heavy, for my twin and I were never again as close as we once had been. The years rolled by. We grew stronger and bolder in our knowledge. Albert came to work for us, which is a story in itself. Our family prospered. When our parents died, Martin and I took on the care of Ludmilla and Melisande. The war came, and we survived that. Then, shortly after peace arrived, Martin decided we should move to America.

“‘Something terrible is coming.’ he kept saying. ‘An evil almost beyond imagination.’ He was right, of course. The communists came, and a grayness descended on our homeland.”

Gaspar fell silent, and I could sense that he was fighting back painful feelings. He was about to continue his story when we turned down Willow Street.

Ahead, rising against the darkness, dark clouds massed behind it, was Morley Manor. A streak of lightning sizzled out of the sky, illuminating its rickety towers.

“Home,” said Gaspar, and in his voice was such love and anger that it frightened me.