6
THE GATE TO MORLEY MANOR was about twelve feet tall and had fierce spikes on the top. I was afraid it would be locked, but I guess the new owner figured that since the place was going to be torn down, there was no point in bothering to keep people out. Or maybe he just figured that no one with a brain in his head would go in there, anyway.
When I tried to open the gate, I realized there was another reason not to bother with a lock: The hinges were so badly rusted that I couldn’t budge the thing. I wondered how they had gotten it open for the sale.
“Sarah,” I grunted. “Give me a hand with this.”
She came up beside me. I looked at her and nodded. We clutched the wet metal bars and began to push with all our might. Suddenly the gate lurched forward about a half a foot, letting out a terrible screech as it did.
The rain was starting again, and, of course, we couldn’t hold our umbrella while we were pushing. I shook my head to get the water out of my eyes and said, “Again!”
Another screech, nearly lost in a rumble of thunder from overhead, and the gate lurched open just far enough for us to squeeze through if we turned sideways.
My hair was soaked, and I wished that I had bothered to put up the hood on my raincoat the way Sarah had. Gaspar was soaked, too, so at least I wasn’t alone. Bob and Albert, on the other hand, had ducked under the flaps on my pockets and so they stayed dry. It was weird to feel them moving around—almost as if I had a hamster in each pocket.
Lightning crackled through the sky as we started up the walk. Thunder boomed and crashed. I expected Sarah to say she wanted to go home, but she didn’t. I think having the monsters with us made us both feel braver. Spooky as Morley Manor was, it seemed like a natural home for our new friends. And since we were here to do them a favor, it somehow felt safe.
It was a relief to get up on the porch and out of the rain. The front door was unlocked, too, and opened much more easily than the gate had. As we stepped inside, a clock began to strike midnight.
“That’s weird,” said Sarah nervously.
“What?” I asked, barely able to get the word past the dryness in my throat.
“There aren’t any clocks here. I watched a lady buy them all this morning.”
I shivered.
We let the monsters out of our pockets. The furniture was almost all gone—sold or hauled away—but we found a wobbly table where we could set them. Then Sarah swung her flashlight around the room.
Melisande started to cry. “Our beautiful housssse,” she hissed, clutching Ludmilla’s arm. “Oh, ssssister, look what hassss happened to our beautiful housssse.”
The snakes on her head drooped mournfully.
Ludmilla patted her on the shoulder, but her lip was trembling and she looked as if she were about to cry, too.
Gaspar just looked angry.
Sarah and I knelt in front of the table so we could talk to them.
“What next?” I whispered.
“We climb the forbidden stair,” said Gaspar.
“I should have guessed,” I muttered. “All right, where is it?” Remembering the roped-off stairway I had seen that morning, I said, “Never mind, I think I know. You guys wanna walk or ride?”
They decided to walk, so we put them gently on the floor—except for Ludmilla, who turned into a bat again and flew instead.
The sign saying ABSOLUTELY NO ONE PAST THIS POINT was still in place. “What’s up there?” I asked when we stood at the base of it.
“My laboratory,” said Gaspar. “At least, I hope it’s still there.” He sounded a little nervous.
“And the Sssstarry Door,” hissed Melisande’s snakes.
The stairs were too high for the monsters to climb, so Sarah and I picked them up again—except for Ludmilla, who was still flying. Swallowing hard, we started toward the top. Suddenly something crashed below us, so loud and hard that I cried out and nearly stumbled.
“What was that?” screamed Sarah.
“Just the house,” said Gaspar, from his perch on my shoulder. When it was clear that we didn’t understand, he added, “It makes sounds all by itself,”
I could feel my eyes bulge. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just don’t open any doors vithout asking us first,” whispered Ludmilla, who was driving me nuts by fluttering around a few inches from my head.
Suddenly a cold wind whistled past us, as if someone had opened an upstairs window.
Sarah shivered. “Where did that come from?”
“It’s just the house,” said Gaspar again.
“Maybe you guys should go the rest of the way on your own,” I suggested, stopping a few feet from the top.
“We can’t open the laboratory door when we’re only five inchessss high!” hissed Melisande, sounding as if she thought I was some sort of idiot.
I sighed and walked on.
All too soon we were at the top of the stairs.
Sarah lifted her flashlight.
A long hallway stretched ahead of us. Several doors opened off from it. At the end of the hallway was a bookcase.
“Okay,” I said. “Which door?”
“None of them,” said Gaspar.
“But you said—”
“We don’t use the doors,” said Gaspar. “We use the bookcase. Take out the second book from the right on the fourth shelf.”
We walked down the long hall. I pulled out the book Instantly the whole bookshelf slid up, disappearing into the ceiling.
“It’s like a metaphor,” said Gaspar smugly. “The bookshelf is the true door to greater knowledge.”
I didn’t know about greater knowledge, but this was definitely a greater hallway. It stretched ahead of us for an absurd length, clearly going far past the walls of Morley Manor. I couldn’t see all the way to the end of it; after about a hundred yards or so, it was shrouded in mist.
“This is too weird,” said Sarah.
“On the contrary,” said Ludmilla, who had turned back into human form and was sitting on Sarah’s shoulder. “It’s just weird enough!”
“Take the third door on the right,” said Gaspar.
The floor creaked beneath our feet. The door groaned and complained as I pushed it open.
By the light of Sarah’s flashlight, I saw what appeared to be a mad scientist’s laboratory crossed with a wizard’s hideaway. The room looked like no one had entered it in fifty years. The walls were so high I figured the original ceiling must have been taken out so that the room could extend up to include the attic. Or maybe not. Given the hall we had just traveled, it was hard to be sure how this place was built.
Medical tables stood side by side with tall wooden stands that held thick, ancient books bound in leather and stamped with titles written in some strange alphabet. The shelves were filled with test tubes, beakers, and green glass bottles with labels like EYE OF NEWT, POWDERED BAT WING, and TOASTED TOAD TOES. Dust lay thick over everything. Nets of cobwebs stretched from table to shelf, from shelf to floor.
On the far side of the room, on a raised area almost like a little stage, stood five glass cylinders, each about seven feet high.
“Thank goodness they’re still here!” cried Gaspar when he spotted the cylinders. “That’s where we will be enlarged.”
I felt a rustling in the pockets of my raincoat. “Let us out!” cried Albert.
Sarah and I found an empty table. I took Albert and Bob out of my pockets, then took off the raincoat. Sarah set Ludmilla and Melisande on the table beside them, then took off her raincoat, too.
“All right,” said Gaspar. “Let’s get busy. You will have to operate the controls, Anthony.”
“What are you going to use for power?” I asked. “The electricity has been cut off.”
“We don’t have to fly kites to catch lightning or anything, do we?” asked Sarah nervously.
Gaspar laughed. “There are many other sources of power in this world. See that metal box over there, the one on the table near the center of the room? Take me to it, please.”
The box had a glass top, and I could see, through a layer of dust and cobwebs, that it held an enormous green jewel.
“This is The Heart of Zentarazna,” said Gaspar. “The jewel I told you of.”
“I thought you gave it back to Wentar,” said, staring at it in awe.
“We did. We later earned it back from him. Another story altogether. Place it in the control box over there.”
Nervously, I took the jewel from its container. Though it was smooth as glass, it seemed to pulse with energy. When I closed my hands over it, I could see a green glow through my fingers. I placed it gently in the control box.
“Now throw that switch,” said Gaspar, pointing to a lever as big as my arm.
I did as he directed. The five glass chambers rose about seven feet into the air.
Albert shouted in triumph, which started Bob howling. With Ludmilla fluttering excitedly around our heads, we carried the other four monsters to the raised area. Eagerly they took their places, one beneath each glass chamber.
When they were all ready, Gaspar said, “Now return the switch to the original position. When the chambers have lowered and been sealed, press the three buttons next to it—first the red one, then the green one, then the black one.”
I did as he directed. As soon as I had pushed the third button, a thick green mist began to fill the chambers. Thunder shook the sky outside. Rain pounded against the roof.
Suddenly a crackle of energy filled the room, so strong and intense that Sarah and I both cried out. When I reached for her hand, a bolt of green power shot between us.
“Look!” she cried.
The monsters were getting bigger—slowly at first, then faster and faster. Soon they were taller than us (except for Albert, of course).
Gaspar waved his fists in triumph.
I wondered if it was going to be a good idea to let them out of the chambers. The choice was out of my hands. The glass cylinders lifted on their own.
“Big!” cried Gaspar in a deep baritone voice. “We’re big again! Now is the evil spell reversed. Now are we ourselves once more.”
Albert leaped to the floor and began to caper about the room. Ludmilla swirled her cape and transformed herself into a bat that had a wingspan of at least three feet. Melisande’s snakes nearly tied themselves into knots, they were so excited. Bob threw back his head and howled with joy.
“Ah, my young friends, the Family Morleskievich is deeply in your debt,” said Gaspar, stepping toward me.
I know he meant to be friendly, but now that he was over six feet tall, his lizard head was terrifying. I took a step backward. Sarah moved closer to me.
Gaspar stopped and smiled, showing about four thousand teeth, “I understand your reluctance for me to approach,” he said. “Very well. You may be on your way.”
The five monsters gathered in a half circle. “You have done the Family Morleskievich a great service,” said Gaspar. “We thank you.” Then they all made that same sweeping bow they had made when they pledged us their friendship.
Sarah and I headed for the door. To my surprise, I felt a little sad at the idea of leaving. But I was proud, too. We had helped the monsters.
My sorrow and pride lasted until I opened the door.
“Yikes!” cried Sarah. “Who’s that?’