Chapter 43

“I added everything.”

Spencer sat behind the bunker in numb shock. A depression seemed to come over the remaining Monitors and Auran girls. General Clean had Panned the Dark Aurans. Now that the boys were under the curse of the Broomstaff once more, it meant they couldn’t leave the landfill. It meant they couldn’t go to the Dustbin. It meant they couldn’t destroy the Toxite brain nests.

Spencer lifted the walkie-talkie to his lips. There was one more very important question he had to ask. “Daisy. Where are the scissors?”

The answer brought Spencer a sigh of relief. “I have the scissors,” Daisy said. “I got to the pump house just in time. Sach met me at the door and passed the scissors to me just before Clean overtook him with green spray. I don’t think Clean saw the handoff. Bookworm was fighting some Pluggers and I was all alone. There was nothing I could do, Spencer. I had to run away!”

“You did the right thing, Daisy,” Spencer said through gritted teeth. “Keeping the scissors safe was the most important thing.”

“But Clean Panned them!” Daisy shouted. “He used a blue recycle boat to haul the boys across the lagoon. He Panned them before the green spray wore off. The Dark Aurans can’t leave the landfill now,” rambled Daisy. “They can’t go to the Dustbin! Spencer, what are we going to do?”

“Hold onto the scissors and wait to hear from me,” Spencer answered, having no idea how they could possibly recover from this blow. “We’re almost to the Glop source.” Without waiting for a reply, Spencer clipped the radio onto his belt once more.

He gestured to a hallway branching off from the one they were in. If possible, that juncture was even more crowded with enemies. “The drinking fountain should be right down there, across the hall from Mrs. Natcher’s classroom.”

“What about a blitz?” Rho said. “We make a defensive formation, keeping Spencer in the middle. Then we push until he makes it through.”

“We have to hurry,” Spencer said. “If news about the Dark Aurans reaches the Witches, then—”

He was cut off by cackling laughter through the school intercom. “News travels fast!” Ninfa said.

“Faster than pizza delivery!” added Holga.

Spencer looked down to see a cluster of shiny soapsuds glimmering in a puddle of rainwater at his feet. The Witches were always watching. And they’d heard Daisy’s announcement at the same time he had.

Rho reached out with her foot and stomped on the suds. She turned to Spencer, her face set with determination. “Let’s go!”

The Auran girls fell into an arrowhead formation, Rho at the forefront. Spencer ducked behind them as Min and the remaining Monitors filled in the back. They charged the sixth-grade hallway with unmatched fury, BEM workers and Pluggers collapsing under the attack.

A Rubbish Sweeper lunged overhead, but Shirley knocked him out with a shot of green spray. A Filth Plugger barreled into them, trying to break their formation. Its quills sprayed in a dangerous volley, pinging against the dustpan shields of the leading Aurans.

One quill passed through the defenses, grazing Spencer’s shoulder. He winced at the pain, his hand reaching up to discover a light graze. It was just enough to rip his coveralls, dampening the tear with his blood.

Spencer supposed the injury was for the better. He’d need a drop of blood to close the Glop source anyway.

Ducking his head low, Spencer pressed on at the heart of the formation. Monitors were dropping off, bleaching out and running for safety. Even two of the Auran girls retreated, though in the confusion Spencer couldn’t tell who.

He could see the drinking fountain ahead, gurgling with sick-smelling Glop. Spencer sidestepped an enemy mop as more of his friends fell away. The defensive formation was down to Min and three of the Auran girls. But they were almost there!

“This is it!” Rho shouted. Gia grabbed Spencer by the arm and thrust him forward. He skidded to a halt, bending over the bubbling Glop source. Behind him, Rho, Gia, Netty, and Min stood shoulder to shoulder, desperate to give Spencer time to throw the needed ingredients into the source.

He scrambled with the items in his belt pouch, pulling out the ingredients that Rho and the Auran girls had prepared for him. The first was a slimy sphere about the size of a large marble.

Eye of Grime.

The eyeball sloshed from one corner of the plastic Ziploc bag to the other. Spencer tried not to look as he pulled open the zip seal and slipped the gooey orb into the drinking fountain. It fell into the Glop with a tiny plop, letting off a hiss of colored vapor as the formula began.

Next, he plucked a small hard item from his pouch.

Tooth of Filth.

It was definitely one of the buckteeth from the front of the creature’s mouth. It was a dull yellow color, over an inch long, resting in the palm of his latex-gloved hand. He reached over the fountain and dropped it in. The tooth hit the swirling mixture and let off a streak of blue and gold.

Mentally reviewing the list, Spencer took the third ingredient from his pouch. It was black and pointed, about the size of a jalapeño pepper.

Beak of Rubbish.

He pinched the sharp beak between thumb and finger, dangling it out over the source. With a small splash, it landed in the Glop. This ingredient vented a plume of black smoke, causing Spencer to crinkle his nose as he drew out the next item.

Bristles of a broom.

Spencer clutched a handful of yellow straw. Rho had carefully selected the bristles from a powerful Glopified broom. They looked absolutely normal in Spencer’s grasp, but when he threw them into the source, they crackled and sparked like fireworks.

Spencer wasn’t very excited about the next ingredient. He reached up to his wounded shoulder and winced, holding his hand there until the tips of his fingers were red.

Blood of an Auran boy.

He reached over the source and flicked his fingers, specks of blood peppering the formula. Spencer knew there were trace amounts of Glop inside his body. It was part of the change he had undergone when becoming an Auran. Olin had told him that the Glop was most concentrated in spit and blood.

The Glop source turned a vibrant red, swirling and gurgling. Spencer stared into it, one more ingredient to complete the Glop formula.

Spencer reached into his belt pouch and drew out the pink hairbrush from the Witches’ bathroom. He held it cautiously by the tip of the handle. There was no telling what kind of germs were packed into the Witches’ hair. At the very least, they probably had lice.

With his gloved hand, Spencer plucked out a pinch of black hairs, almost gagging as they ripped away from the brush’s bristles.

Preparing himself for what might happen when the source closed, Spencer dropped the hairs into the bubbling mixture. They vanished in a moment, incorporated into the formula.

But nothing happened.

The formula didn’t hiss, smoke, or change color. The source didn’t begin closing at all. It continued gurgling and swirling as though nothing had happened.

Pinching out a few more strands of hair, Spencer threw them into the Glop source. But the result was the same.

Nothing.

“It didn’t work!” Spencer cried. “The source isn’t closing!”

“Of course not, dearie,” came a chilling reply from down the hallway. The fighting ceased suddenly, Pluggers and Sweepers falling back in respect as Belzora, Ninfa, and Holga strode out of Mrs. Natcher’s classroom.

“The source didn’t close because you don’t have all the ingredients,” Ninfa continued.

“That’s not possible,” Spencer said. “I added everything.”

Holga clucked her tongue in mock sadness at his failure. “You didn’t add a Witch’s hair.” She smoothed a hand over her gnarly locks, and Spencer thought he saw a moth fly out.

To prove them wrong, Spencer held out the pink hairbrush. “We took this from your apartment.”

The Witches laughed again. “That’s odd,” Ninfa said. “Why would you take that?”

“Your hair,” Spencer said. “We needed your hair to close the source.”

“Silly boy,” said Holga. “That’s the brush we use to comb the yak.”

Spencer froze, staring at the useless pink hairbrush in his hand. The clog of grizzly black hair . . . it was yak hair? He remembered seeing the strange animal on the third level of the parking garage, but he didn’t expect the Witches to comb it.

“You see,” said Belzora, stepping forward. “We knew you were coming that day. We knew what you wanted. We planted the yak’s brush in our bathroom, and you took the bait like a rat takes cheese.”

Rho leapt forward in anger. She grasped for a handful of Holga’s hair, desperate to yank it from the Witch’s scalp. But the moment her hand touched Holga’s head, a shock wave of magic blasted her backward. Rho skidded across the hallway, cradling her hand, which was smoking with severe burns.

“We thought you might try something like that,” Ninfa said. “So we used our wands to Glopify these nifty hairnets before we came out to say hello.”

Spencer looked closer. Now that she pointed them out, he could see that all three Witches had their hair tucked back and secured under black hairnets like the kind Meredith used in the school kitchen.

Spencer reached down and unclipped the walkie-talkie on his hip. His backup plan was rough, but without Sach, Olin, and Aryl, he was going to have to try something desperate.

“Daisy,” he called. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything,” she replied instantly.

“Oh,” Holga said. “He wants to say bye-bye to his girly friend. How cute.”

Spencer ignored the Witch. “Do you have any stainless steel polish left?”

“Maybe a drop,” she said. “Why?”

“I need you to polish the scissors.”

“The scissors?” Daisy clarified. “What are you planning, Spencer?”

“Just do it.”

“Okay,” she answered. It was silent for a few seconds as Spencer stared off with the Witches. “Got it,” Daisy said.

Spencer took a deep breath and reached into his belt pouch. Pulling out the Glopified magnet, he held it high over his head.

In a moment, Spencer heard a crash down the hallway, accompanied by shouts of alarm. Another crash followed, this one sounding like crumbling bricks.

“What are you up to, boy?” Ninfa muttered.

The Glopified scissors suddenly appeared, ripping through the wall on a direct path for the magnet in the boy’s hand. An unfortunate Filth Sweeper happened to be standing in the course of the flying scissors. The sharp blades tore through him, killing his Sweeper half instantly.

The scissors slammed into the magnet and Spencer held them close, noticing how shiny the recently polished iron looked.

“Thanks, Daisy,” Spencer said. He dropped the magnet into his belt pouch, scissors still fused tightly to it, and clipped the walkie-talkie back into place.

Belzora smiled wickedly. “Your big finale,” she said. “Your trickery in moving the school, the lives wasted in battle against our warriors . . . and now you’ve brought us the scissors.” She shook her head. “You fool boy. You’ll never succeed. You cannot close the source without a Witch’s hair.”

Spencer stared at the fountain of raw magic. The Dark Aurans had warned him against doing this. He had no assurance that it would work, but at this point, it was the only risk left to take.

“The Glop formula said we need a hair from a Witch’s head.” Spencer’s eyes darted up to Belzora’s face. “But the recipe never said the hair had to be detached.”

Spencer Zumbro reached out, wrapped both arms around Belzora’s middle, and lunged for the Glop fountain. They went in together, sucked headfirst into the gurgling, bubbling source of all Glop.