Curse of the Boggin (The Library Book 1)

by D. J. MacHale

  “So it isn’t a myth,” I said soberly. “There really is a boogeyman.”

  “Aye,” Everett said.

  “I…I gotta think,” I said, backing away. “I’m going home.”

  “Take this with you,” he said, and held out the book that contained Michael Swenor’s story.

  I didn’t take it. It was kryptonite. I backed away farther, nearly tripping on the edge of a bookcase.

  “I don’t want it,” I said.

  Everett shrugged and put the book on the podium. “No matter. You don’t really need it. You’re already in the story.”

  “That’s not making me feel better.”

  “You’ve got a lot to chew over,” Everett said. “But understand, you’re part of this. You know it, and the Boggin knows it. Question is, what’re you going to do about it?”

  I couldn’t get out of there fast enough and hurried for the door.

  “Keep your wits about you, son,” Everett called out. “Or more will die.”

  I threw the door open and jumped through into…

  …my bedroom.

  Phew.

  “Marcus?” my mother called from downstairs. “Are you home?”

  Good question. Was I home? Or out of my mind? I reopened the door to see…our hallway. Without the key in the magical lock, the door didn’t open back into the Library.

  “Marcus?”

  “Yeah?” I called out.

  “Come down!”

  I wasn’t in the mood to have another duel with my mother. Then again, she’d baked me brownies. Maybe there was a truce in effect. I had to shake away the thoughts of what I’d just heard from Everett and get my head together enough to act normal. I slipped Michael Swenor’s badge out of my hoodie and dropped it into my desk drawer. I rubbed my face, stuck the key under my shirt, and headed downstairs.

  Mom was waiting at the foot of the stairs with a big smile. Good start.

  “What’s up?” I asked, trying to sound all casual, as if nothing at all were up.

  “I want to introduce you to someone,” she said, and led me toward the living room. “She’s thinking of moving into the area and wanted to meet some of the neighbors.”

  I couldn’t have cared less about a new neighbor, but in order to keep the peace, I went along. I was going to have to put on my “polite to adults” face and pretend I cared.

  Mom led me down the hall, into the living room.

  “Marcus,” she said, “this is Miss Bogg.”

  A woman was sitting in our high-backed easy chair with her back to me. When we entered she stood up and turned to face me…

  …and I nearly passed out.

  It was the old lady.

  The Boggin. El Coco. Babau. Whatever.

  The boogeyman was a woman, and she was in our house.

  “Hello, young man,” she said in the voice of a kindly old grandma. “So nice to meet you.”

  I stood there staring at the old lady, or whatever she was, with my mouth hanging open.

  Mom tried to make nice. “You two talk, and I’ll get us something to nibble on.”

  “Please, don’t go to any trouble for me,” the beastly old lady said so sweetly it almost made me believe she was human.

  Almost.

  “No trouble,” Mom said over her shoulder as she hurried out. “Make yourself at home. Marcus, be a good host.”

  I didn’t want to be a host, good or otherwise, and I definitely didn’t want her making herself at home. I wanted this thing gone. As soon as my mother left the room, the old lady turned her crazy gaze on me.

  “Hello, Marcus,” she said, way too nicely.

  I think my blood froze in my veins.

  “What do you want?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from quivering.

  “You know very well,” she replied kindly, but with a hint of acid that made my skin crawl.

  I backed away, as if being a few feet farther from her would make her less dangerous. It was hard to look into her wild eyes. It was like staring straight into the double barrels of a shotgun.

  “You killed Michael Swenor,” I said.

  She shrugged casually, as if I had said it looked like rain.

  “He did not do what I asked,” she said dismissively. “Such a simple request. I wanted the key. Instead, it was passed to you.”

  I felt the weight of the heavy brass key hanging around my neck.

  “Why do you want it so bad, anyway?” I asked. “So you can destroy the Library?”

  The old lady stiffened as if a simple mention of the Library gave her the chills. How odd is that? The boogeyman was afraid of something.

  Note to self…

  “You defy me?” she said indignantly. “Me? The very essence of fear? For centuries children have been assured I’m a myth, but in the dark corners of their imaginations, they know that I am oh so very real. I’m always out there, perched on the edge of their dreams. Watching and waiting. And now I’m here. With you.”

  She stalked toward me slowly. I backed off, trying not to knock over any tables or lamps.

  “But you’re not real,” I said. “You weren’t born. You were conjured.”

  “With only one purpose.”

  “No. Not only one purpose. You don’t just frighten people. You killed Michael Swenor.”

  “He was a threat. The Library is a threat. Its agents know my truth and continually try to contain me. Can you blame me for fighting back? They will not give up unless I stop them. For that, I need the key.”

  I wanted to rip the key from around my neck and throw it at her. If she wanted the Library spirits to leave her alone, why should I care? I wanted nothing to do with Everett and that creepy old place.

  I was a second away from giving her the stupid key and ending this nightmare when I remembered why it was given to me.

  My father wanted me to have it.

  My real father.

  He had been an agent of the Library. I didn’t think for a second that I would be able to do the same, but my father wanted me to try. That was why I was standing face to face with a spirit who had the power to terrify and, at the moment, was doing a pretty decent job of it.

  “What happens if I don’t give it to you?” I asked nervously. “You going to kill me like you killed Michael Swenor and just take it?”

  The demon who called herself Miss Bogg stopped walking. We were only a few feet apart.

  She had no comeback.

  That was when I knew.

  “Surrender the key,” I said. “You can’t take it, can you? I have to give it up.”

  The woman held out a gnarled, wrinkly hand that had long, yellowed, clawlike nails.

  “Give it to me,” she demanded with a hint of frustration.

  “Sorry,” I said defiantly. “No chance.”

  She stared at me for several seconds. I braced myself against…what? Was she going to reach into my brain and create another illusion to threaten me?

  “You are correct,” she said with a cold smile. “The holder of the key must surrender it. As long as you possess it, you will not be harmed.”

  “Best news I’ve heard all day.”

  “The same does not apply to those you care about.”

  My stomach sank.

  “Teatime!” Mom announced as she walked into the room.

  She hurried over to us, holding a tray with an old-fashioned copper teapot that she brought out only on special occasions. Mom walked right up to us and held out the tray with the gleaming orange pot for Miss Bogg to admire.

  “Tea brewed the old-fashioned way!” she announced proudly.

  The Boggin’s confident smile fell quickly, and she lurched away as if the tray were on fire. She hurried for the door faster than I’d seen any old lady move, ever. I shouldn’t have been surprised, because she wasn’t really an old lady.

  “Miss Bogg?” Mom called out, confused.

  The fiend didn’t turn back. She went straight for the front door and left without saying a word.


  I just stood there, dumbfounded. Mom watched with dismay, still holding the tray out. She turned to me and said, “What did you say to her?”

  I immediately got defensive. It was force of habit when you were always being accused of things you didn’t do.

  “Me? Nothing.”

  “You must have said something. Why would she leave like that?”

  “I’m just as surprised as you are,” I said. “Maybe she’s allergic to tea.”

  Mom’s expression turned cold. “Not funny. A minute ago she was the sweetest old lady in the world, and then suddenly she couldn’t get out of here fast enough. What happened while I was gone?”

  What could I say? I couldn’t exactly tell her the truth. Well, Mom, the thing is, that old lady is the boogeyman. Yup. The boogeyman. Funny thing, huh? The boogeyman is really a boogeywoman! Who knew?

  That wouldn’t fly.

  “I swear, Mom. I didn’t do anything wrong. But she was kind of creepy, to be honest. I’m glad she’s gone.”

  “Creepy? She was the least creepy person I’ve ever met. Did you tell her you thought she was creepy?”

  “No! I mean, not really.”

  “Unbelievable!” she exclaimed.

  “It wasn’t like that,” I said, but couldn’t back that up.

  “Go after her and apologize,” she demanded.

  “No way!”

  “Go! Take some responsibility. Catch her. Now!”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but no words came out. I had no choice but to leave, so I hurried out the door. When I hit the walkway that led to the street, I stopped and looked around in case Miss Bogg, or whatever her real name was, was waiting to pounce on me.

  The sun had just set. There were far too many deepening shadows and places for the Boggin to be lurking for me to feel safe out there. But I couldn’t go back inside. At least not right away. So I jammed my hands into my pockets, put my head down, and walked quickly to the street and along the sidewalk, away from my house. I had no destination in mind. I just wanted to keep moving.

  The words of the Boggin, Miss Bogg, kept running through my head. She wanted the key so she could destroy the Library, and she threatened to hurt the people I cared about if she didn’t get it. What was I supposed to do? My parents wouldn’t believe me. I couldn’t go to the police, because they’d have me committed. I could surrender the key, but would my father, my birth father, want me to do that? It could mean the end of the Library.

  I needed somebody to help me think things through.

  That was when I saw Michael Swenor.

  The ghost stood on the street corner a block away. I might not even have seen him except that the streetlamp had kicked on over his head, bathing the corner in light. He stood staring at me with that same haunted, blank look that totally creeped me out.

  “Don’t move!” I shouted, and ran for him.

  He didn’t listen to me. Could ghosts even hear? He turned and walked away slowly, down the sidewalk, disappearing behind a corner hedge.

  I sprinted to the corner and turned his way to see that he hadn’t actually disappeared. But he was suddenly three blocks away. It was impossible for anybody except a ghost, I guess, to have moved that fast.

  “Stop!” I yelled, and sprinted after him.

  Swenor walked away again, slowly. I didn’t think for a second that I could catch up with him, since ghosts seemed to be able to jump around at the speed of light, but I had to try. When I got to the spot where he’d last stood, I glanced around to see him only one block away, standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

  “Stand still!” I called out to him as I inched forward.

  This time he didn’t move.

  “This is your story,” I said. “But I don’t know how to finish it. You know about the Boggin; I know you do. If I don’t give it the key, it’ll come after the people I care about. What am I supposed to do?”

  I kept walking until I was only a few yards from him, the closest I’d gotten since the classroom where I first saw him. It was close enough to see the sad look in his eyes.

  “I need help,” I said as I stepped up to him. “I can’t do this alone.”

  Swenor turned toward the house we were standing in front of, looked back to me, and disappeared. Poof. One second he was there and looking as solid as me; the next second there was only air.

  I let out a gasp. Yes, I believed in ghosts, but I still wasn’t used to seeing them pop in and out like that. What was the point? Why had he shown himself to me again? He didn’t have anything to give me, and he wasn’t trying to protect me. What was I missing?

  I looked toward the house he had led me to and caught my breath.

  He had brought me to Lu’s house.

  I couldn’t begin to imagine why he’d done that, but I definitely needed somebody to talk to. Lu would listen.

  “Marcus!” Mrs. Lu exclaimed when she opened her front door. “How the heck are you?”

  Lu’s parents were cool.

  “I’m good. Is Lu—I mean, is Annabella home?”

  “She’s doing homework in her room, I hope. Or maybe she’s rolling around in the basement. I can’t keep track of that girl.”

  “Okay if I go see?”

  “Sure. Just don’t let her talk you into putting on skates. She’ll hurt you.”

  I hurried into the house and ran straight up the stairs. Mrs. Lu wasn’t one of those moms who didn’t let boys and girls exist in the same room alone. Like I said, she was cool.

  I found Lu at her desk with her earbuds in, sketching.

  “Hey,” I said, loud enough for her to hear over her music.

  She pulled out her earbuds, looked at me, and frowned.

  “Oh man, what happened?” she asked.

  “Why? Do I look that bad?”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you hadn’t slept in a week.”

  “That’s exactly how I feel.”

  I sat down on the end of her bed and spent ten minutes unloading. I told her about everything: the little girl who wasn’t a little girl; my visit to the Library; the reappearances of Michael Swenor, and how he’d led me to her house; and, finally, the truth about the Boggin and how it turned up at my house.

  She listened without comment. I had her full attention, which wasn’t easy to get from Lu.

  “I’m lost,” I said. “If I don’t give her the key, she’ll come after the people I care about. But if I give it up, she’ll destroy that library, and all the people whose stories aren’t finished will be left in some kind of spirit limbo.”

  Lu rubbed her forehead, leaving a smudge from the drawing charcoal. She looked down at her paper and absently sketched some more. She wasn’t ignoring me. She was thinking.

  After a few minutes she dropped the charcoal and said, “I don’t know what you should do.”

  “That’s it?” I asked, peeved. “Nothing? No thoughts? No insight? No different way of looking at things I might have missed?”

  “Nope.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I said, and got up to leave.

  “Wait,” she said quickly. “There’s really only one person who can help.”

  I sat back down on the bed.

  “Who?”

  “That Everett guy. The librarian.”

  I put my hand to my chest and felt the key.

  “I don’t want to go back there.”

  “I hear you. But if this is all true, it might be a whole lot scarier if you don’t.”

  I couldn’t argue with that.

  “Do you believe me?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. It’s a lot. But I don’t think you’re making it up. There’s only one way for me to know for sure.”

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “Take me with you.”

  “No. No way. My father brought Michael Swenor to that library, and look what happened to him.”

  Lu was strangely silent. That wasn’t like her. Something was on her mind.

  “What?” I asked. />
  “The Library is about unfinished stories, right? Strange phenomena that can’t be explained? Disruptions?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “About six months ago my cousin Jenny disappeared. She’s run away before. Lots of times. She gets in trouble a lot. But this time she just, like, vanished. Everyone hopes she’ll turn up, like always, but the longer it goes on, the scarier it gets. Nobody says it, but we’re all afraid that something really bad happened to her.”

  “Man, I’m sorry.”

  “I wonder if what happened to Jenny is, like, a…disruption?”

  The word echoed in my head as if she had screamed it.

  “You think her story might be in one of the books in the Library?” I asked.

  Lu shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. I wouldn’t mind finding out.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “Look, Marcus, this Boggin thing threatened to hurt the people you care about. We’re best friends. You think you’re protecting me by keeping me away? I think I’m already in trouble.”

  I was torn. The last thing I wanted to do was put Lu in danger.

  “I’ll tell you something else. I think I know why Michael Swenor led you here.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “He knows you need help, like I’m sure your father needed help when he was an agent of the Library. They were friends. He helped your father. Now let me help you.”

  “But I don’t want you to get hurt,” I said.

  “Then take me to the Library and give me a chance to protect myself. Who knows? You might be doing me a favor.”

  I dug under the collar of my shirt and pulled the cord from around my neck.

  “If anything happens to you—”

  “I can take care of myself,” she said as she hurried to her desk. She grabbed her roller derby wrist guards and slipped them onto her hands. “In case I have to take a swing at somebody.”

  Lu was tough, but if she thought throwing a punch at somebody was going to protect us from the kind of trouble the Boggin could bring, she was dreaming.

  “Good thinking,” I said. Why burst her bubble?

  “Then let’s go,” she said with excitement.

  I walked to her bedroom door and felt the key grow warm in my hand. Lu stood behind me as I raised it toward the doorknob. The black spot appeared below the knob and quickly transformed into the keyhole.