by R. L. Ullman
“What? What is it?”
“Sorry,” she says. “I-I think there’s a whole shelf of brains. So gross.”
“Do you see a book?” I ask. “Remember, that’s what we’re looking for.”
“I know what we’re looking for,” she says. “I’m not a moron. Wait, here’s a desk with all sorts of— Hang on! There’s a book on it! Let me read the spine. Yes! This is it! The Alchemy of Reanimation Volume II! Let me see if I can open it somehow and—”
Suddenly, there’s silence.
“Aura?”
No answer.
We all look at one another.
“Okay,” Hairball says. “Where’d she go?”
“Aura?” I yell, knocking on the door. “Aura, are you okay? Aura?”
There’s no reply.
“Something happened!” I say. “Hairball, bust it down!”
“But we’ll get caught!” InvisiBill says. He must have come back down the hall.
“Dude, who cares?” I say. “Aura’s in trouble. Take it down, Hairball!”
The furry giant rears back his fist and pounds the door. The next thing I know, Hairball is flying backwards through the air, crashing into the opposite wall.
“That’s Black Magic!” Rage says. “The door must be cursed!”
“Pull off the locks!” I say.
Stanphibian grabs a lock and tugs with all of his might, but it won’t break off.
“Forget it,” InvisiBill says. “We can’t get inside. We’ve got to get the professors. Stanphibian, let’s go!”
The two of them take off, but I have a feeling we can’t waste time waiting for help to arrive. Aura’s in trouble now! I pound on the door again.
“Aura! Are you okay? Are you still there? Aura?”
Still nothing.
I’ve got to help her. But how?
Then, I spin around and my eyes land on Hexum’s door. Suddenly, I hear his voice inside my head:
‘If you are truly going to be a Supernatural, you must learn to think like a Supernatural.’
He’s right. That’s the only way I’ll ever believe in things I can’t imagine.
While Rage is helping Hairball back to his feet, I close my eyes, tuning them out. I focus on one thought.
How can I best help Aura?
Suddenly, I envision a vapor cloud flowing beneath the crack of a door.
That’s it! If we can’t go through Faustius’ door, maybe I can go around it?
I fixate on that vapor cloud.
I hold that image in my mind.
I focus everything I can on that image.
A cloud of mist.
Then, I start to believe.
Suddenly, I’m tingly all over.
I feel light—lighter than air.
My entire body feels like it’s spreading out. Like my molecules are pulling apart!
“Um, Bram?” comes Rage’s voice. It sounds distant.
I feel like I’m floating, like I’m high in the air, brushing against the ceiling. But my body feels scattered. Like I’ve dissipated into a gazillion, tiny particles.
I see Rage and Hairball looking up at me, their mouths hanging wide open.
I… did it?
“Bram, is that you?” Rage asks.
But I can’t answer him.
First, I have no mouth.
Second, my thoughts are on Aura.
I’ve got to help her.
I focus my mind, clustering my atoms together.
Then, I flow through the cracks of Faustius’ door.
WELL, THAT SUCKS
As I drift into Faustius’ office, I know I need to be ready for anything.
I also learn that maintaining my mist-form is tricky business. Half of me is hugging the ceiling while the other half is skimming the floor. I need to stay focused to keep my particles together, and after a few seconds of excruciating mental effort, I manage to pull myself into a fairly respectable vapor cloud.
It’s dark in here, just as Aura said, but fortunately I can still see, even in mist form. And to my surprise, one major benefit of being a mist is that I can see in multiple directions at once.
The only problem is that I don’t see Aura anywhere.
Where is she?
I feel a flutter of panic, when I realize I’ve got this. After all, I’ve paid attention in Professor Morris’ class about Supernatural crime scene investigations. Now all I have to do is apply what I learned. So, here goes.
Step one, secure the crime scene. Well, it appears I’m the only one here so a big check mark for that one. Step two, sweep the crime scene, assess the environment, and look for clues. Okay, if I want to cover the most space in the fastest time possible I’ll need to fan out.
That’s kind of frustrating after working so hard to pull myself together, but what other choice do I have? So, I relax my concentration and feel myself spreading apart. The good news is that it takes only a few seconds to permeate the room. The bad news is that Faustius’ office is as creepy as Aura said it was. Maybe creepier.
I run down the list of what Aura reported seeing. Brains on a shelf. Check. Bizarre operating table. Check. Feeling totally freaked out. Double check.
But there’s still no sign of Aura.
I wish I knew what step three of a Supernatural investigation was, but we haven’t gotten that far yet.
Maybe Aura’s just playing a practical joke, like when we tried tracking her with the Spirit Sensor. She’s probably back at Monster House laughing her head off. Boy, that would be great. But I know it’s not true.
Something happened to her.
Something bad.
Part of me feels like I should just head back into the hallway, but I know it’s fear talking. Aura needs my help and hovering like a cloud isn’t going to get me any closer to solving this mystery. I need to get my sneakers on the ground. I just hope I can change back to normal, otherwise I’ll be stuck like this forever and get a code name like “Gas Boy” or something.
I concentrate hard, picturing myself as a regular kid. I put all of my focus on that mental image. Then, I start to feel tingly again, like my atoms are coming back together. I feel myself becoming heavier, more solid.
The next thing I know, I’m falling from the ceiling!
I SLAM hard on my backside and roll over.
Note to self: the next time I transition from mist to human form, make sure I’m near the floor.
Suddenly, I hear KNOCKING.
“Bram, are you okay!” comes Rage’s voice.
“I’m good!” I yell. “Just fell from the ceiling. Only hurt my pride. I don’t see Aura though!”
“Maybe you should get out of there,” Rage says. “The guys are trying to find Van Helsing or Crawler. Let’s let them handle it.”
“There’s no time!” I yell back. I have a bad feeling that if I can’t figure out what happened to Aura, she’ll be lost forever. I spin around the room. What was she doing when we last heard from her? Then, I remember.
The book!
It was on Faustius’ desk.
Where the heck is that desk?
I’m about to make a mad scramble when I suddenly feel drained. Changing into a cloud and back again really sapped my energy. But I can’t stop now. I need to find that book.
Suddenly, I notice a piece of furniture sticking out from behind the shelf of brains. For some reason, I missed this area. So, I head over to explore.
Bingo! It’s a desk alright.
It’s positioned beneath a boarded window. The surface is large, and every square inch is covered with beakers, microscopes, and… a book!
Just then, I notice something shimmery on the floor.
It’s Aura’s badge!
Okay, that’s not a good sign.
I pick it up and shove it into my pocket. Then, I get back to the book. It’s thick, with a tattered black cover and yellowed pages. It’s still closed, so I guess Aura never got it open. I check out the text on the spine. It reads:
&nbs
p; THE ALCHEMY OF REANIMATION
VOLUME II
BY PROFESSOR CLAUDE FAUSTIUS
This is it!
I reach for it, but then stop myself.
Aura was opening it when something happened to her—and she’s a ghost! Maybe I shouldn’t open it. I mean, if doors and locks can be cursed then who knows what kind of Black Magic is inside of this thing? Yet, this book is definitely linked to Aura’s disappearance.
I just don’t know how.
What should I do?
The way I see it, I have two options. Option one, leave the book here and mist my way out of Faustius’ office for help. Since Van Helsing put the locks on Faustius’ door, he’d know how to open them up so we could get back inside. The risk is that he’s probably not around. I mean, according to Holmwood and Morris, he left the Academy for his appointment a long time ago. Plus, we’d lose precious time finding Aura.
Option two, stay in kid form, grab the book, and break out of Faustius’ office. That way, even if Van Helsing isn’t here, we can track him down and hand deliver the book as quickly as possible. The risk is that I’ll have to ensure no one opens the book. Especially InvisiBill because he’d be the one to do something stupid like that. The problem is that I’m not sure I can actually unlock Faustius’ door from the inside. After all, it’s cursed.
Decisions, decisions.
Okay, option two it is!
I grab the book, and immediately I know it’s a mistake! There’s a strong force pulling me forwards, like I’m being sucked inside a vacuum cleaner!
What’s going on?
I try releasing the book, but it won’t let me go!
I’m slip—
***
I wake up in a fog.
I try opening my eyes, but my head is pounding so hard even my eyelids hurt. Nevertheless, as soon as I pry them open, I wish I hadn’t, because it only takes a second to realize I’m in trouble. Serious trouble.
I’m in some kind of a chamber. It’s circular in shape with stone walls along the perimeter and a domed leaded-glass ceiling. Looking up, I see it’s still nighttime, but not a star is hanging in the sky. All around me are various stations holding strange sciency stuff, like giant microscopes, bubbling beakers, and electric amps. To my left are two metal tables complete with wrist and ankle shackles. A small table between them holds an array of surgical tools, like scalpels, knives, and scissors.
By the looks of it, I’d say I’m in some mad scientist’s laboratory, and that’s probably not a good thing.
How’d I end up here? Then, it hits me.
The book!
The last thing I remember is grabbing Faustius’ book. Suddenly, it dawns on me that I’m not holding it anymore. Where did it go? I need to get that book to Van Helsing before it’s too late to save Aura!
It’s not until I get to my feet that I realize I won’t be saving anyone anytime soon. That’s because I’m standing inside a glass tube exactly like the one Hexum created in my mind, except this one is real and completely sealed at the top and bottom, making escaping in mist form impossible.
Not that I could turn into a mist anyway. I’m so wiped out I feel like I could sleep for days. Plus, I’m absolutely starving, which I’ve learned is never a good thing for a vampire like me.
I look around as best as I can, but I don’t see Faustius’ book anywhere. I feel like such a dope. Clearly, you didn’t have to open the book to be zapped by its curse. And the Black Magic must be powerful enough to work on ghosts too. So, if I’m here, Aura must be also.
“Aura?” I yell, my voice echoing in the tube.
No answer.
Well, I can’t stay trapped in here forever. Maybe I can knock this tube over and break it open? I lean up against one side of the glass and then launch myself against the other, pushing with all of my might, but the tube doesn’t budge. I do, however, manage to bruise my shoulder.
Monster fail.
I’ve got to get out of here.
Just then, I hear a CREAK behind me.
“Aura?”
But instead of Aura, I’m suddenly facing two werewolves—one is red and the other is black! Where’d they come from? Fortunately, we’re separated by glass, but they’re looking at me like I’m some kind of a zoo animal. Shouldn’t the roles be reversed?
“Hi guys,” I say casually. “Great to see you. Hey, any chance you can spring me and let me walk out of here alive? Promise I’ll get you all the dog chow you can eat.”
The red one bares his teeth and ROARS.
“Okay,” I say quickly. “Forget the dog food. Think steaks. Thick, juicy steaks every night for the rest of your lives? Not bad, huh? I’ll even throw in a bottomless salad bowl.”
“Don’t waste your breath,” comes a voice. “You know you can’t control them. You don’t have the power.”
I turn to find a hunched, bald man standing between the operating tables. His dark, beady eyes stare at me through gold-rimmed glasses, and he’s wearing a white lab coat and cradling something in his arms.
“Who are you?” I ask.
“Who do you think I am?” the bent man answers.
I know I’ve never seen him before. But he has a distinct accent. It sounds different than Van Helsing’s accent. Maybe… German? Then, I notice what he’s holding.
It’s a bundle of bones!
There’s a skull, a femur, a collar bone…
Then, it hits me!
“Y-You’re Professor Faustius!”
But Faustius doesn’t respond. Instead, he carefully lays the bones down on one of the metal tables. Then, he reaches beneath and pulls out a bin filled with even more bones. After laying those out, he grabs another bin and then repeats this several more times. Minutes later, he’s organized a complete skeleton.
This is weird. Where’d he get all those...
Suddenly, it all comes together.
Those must be the stolen bones!
“You robbed those graves!” I exclaim.
“Guess you caught me red-handed,” Faustius says, waving a hand bone. “Allow me to introduce our guest. The legs, arms, and torso belonged to a man named Joseph Covington, a four-time Olympic gold medalist in the decathlon who set world records in the 100-meter sprint, long jump, high jump, javelin throw, and pole vault. The bones of the hands, wrists, and fingers belonged to a man named Lloyd McAdams, the most decorated sharpshooter in military history. And the skull belonged to a gentleman named Dr. Eugene Albert, Nobel prize winner in physics.”
“Okaaay,” I say, totally freaked out. “You have some really stiff friends.”
“Perhaps,” he says. “But they won’t stay that way for long.”
Okay, this guy is clearly nuts. What he’s planning to do with that skeleton is beyond me, but I don’t want to stick around to find out. I’ve got to get out of here. I need a plan. Maybe I can bluff my way out of here.
“You might as well let me go,” I say. “Van Helsing is on his way right now.”
“Really?” Faustius says. “How could Van Helsing find us here, in the middle of nowhere?” He lifts a femur. “Are you pulling my leg?”
“No,” I say. “He followed me here.”
Then, I realize I made a big mistake. After all, I didn’t exactly come here voluntarily. Faustius’ cursed book sent me here.
“Your survival skills are very poor,” Faustius says. “Clearly, Hexum has not trained you well. I’m not surprised. That pompous bore took far more credit than he deserved. But I’m afraid your ruse is ineffective. For one, I have cast a spell banishing any of Crawler’s eight-legged sentries from my lair. But even more importantly, I know for a fact that Van Helsing will not be coming to save you. We had an… appointment to meet somewhere else.”
An appointment? So Faustius was the person Van Helsing left the academy to meet? Now I know why Professor Holmwood was so nervous. This guy is a total wackadoo.
“Unfortunately, my invitation was only a decoy,” Faustius continues. “Soon, we w
ill no longer need to worry about your Headmaster.”
“What?” I say. “What does that mean?”
“It means that several of my associates are waiting to greet him,” Faustius says with a smirk. “I would have so enjoyed seeing the terror in his eyes as he’s ripped limb from limb. But alas, I have other priorities.”
“You’re going to kill him?” I say, my voice rising.
“Are you fond of Van Helsing?” he asks. “I’m not surprised. I know firsthand how manipulative he can be. I’m sure he told you many false stories about the Dark Ones, portraying them as evil.”
“They killed my parents!” I say.
“Did they?” Faustius says calmly. “Do you know that for a fact? Or are you merely taking his word for it?”
His words catch me off guard.
“I know the Dark Ones are evil!” I snap back. “Van Helsing told me they’re searching for the Blood Grail to bring Count Dracula back to life. I’d call that pretty evil.”
“Perhaps you should understand both sides of the story before passing judgement on what is evil and what is not,” Faustius says, walking towards me. “Yes, the Dark Ones are searching for the Blood Grail, but they are doing so for noble reasons. And I am leading them.”
“Wait a second,” I say. “You’re a Dark One?”
“Not just any Dark One,” he says, brushing the werewolves aside. “I am the High Lord of the Dark Ones.”
“Th-The High Lord?” I stutter. “You mean, like, the person in charge? No wonder Van Helsing threw you out of the academy. You’re a monster!”
Faustius puts a hand on the glass and smiles.
“And by coincidence, so are you,” Faustius says. “Are you aware of how monsters were treated before the reign of Count Dracula?”
Suddenly, I remember Professor Seward’s lectures about the great monster hunts, like the Zombie Crusades and the Werewolf Inquisition.
“They were persecuted,” Faustius continues, “hunted down and destroyed by angry mobs of Naturals led by some Van Helsing ancestor or another. Their thirst for Supernatural blood was insatiable. It did not matter if you were a man or a woman, an adult or a child. Sometimes, it didn’t matter if you were a monster at all. So tell me, who are the evil ones now?”
