by Georgia Byng
It was miraculous. Sparks hit the ceiling and others arced toward Molly’s head. She braced herself as a cloud of electricity surrounded her and as waves and waves of knowledge came home. They crashed into her brain, flooding it and filling the gaps where they had once lived, and quenching the fire in Molly’s ears. She shut her eyes and let her mind be as open as possible. She wanted every last drop of what belonged to her. And then the crashing was reduced to splashing, until all that remained were the last ripples of her memories.
Molly opened her eyes. For a moment she thought she must be dreaming. At last she felt whole again. She got up and bowed respectfully to the machine.
Thank you, she thought to it. Thank you. THANK YOU! The machine gave a burp. Then, above it, a bubble with a shining sun in it exploded and disappeared.
Molly made her way to Miss Cribbins. She stood before her and stared at the nasty but beautiful woman. Molly felt as good a hypnotist as she had ever felt. With great satisfaction she directed a massive bolt of hypnotic power into the spinster’s thickly lashed eyes. At once the fusion feeling blossomed in every part of Molly’s body. She felt wonderful.
“Now, Miss Cribbins,” Molly began, “you are completely under my power.” Miss Cribbins nodded.
“Lean forward,” Molly instructed. The woman did as she was told, so that the cat-spider and the wig nearly fell off her head. Molly undid the tape that held her arms.
“Lean back,” she said. Taramasalata clung to Miss Cribbins’s seesawing wig. Molly undid the tape that secured Cribbins’s legs and her ankles, then she unpeeled the tape from her mouth.
“Where are my crystals?” she asked her.
“In a box in—Princess Fang’s—bedroom,” said Cribbins falteringly.
“Good,” said Molly. “Now, acting completely normally, and telling no one that you are hypnotized or that you are under my power, you will go and get the box and bring it back here.”
Miss Cribbins nodded and like a remote-control toy, and with Taramasalata perched on her shoulder, nibbling her ear lobe, she got up and walked toward the door.
Twenty-Six
“W hat is your name?” Molly asked.
The witless-looking scientist said nothing. He was studying his thumb as though the answer to life lay in the creases of its knuckle.
“Name?” Molly repeated. “What is your name?” She felt really sorry for him. He must have been brilliant, but he’d been reduced to an idiot.
“Daksha Ashnu,” he suddenly volunteered.
“Good. Now, Daksha, you must sit here and don’t move. I’m going to help you get your memories back.”
Moments later, a whirlwind of pictures and numbers were swirling above the pulsing, blue jellyfish. If it’s not too much trouble, Molly asked the machine politely, would you be able to send Daksha Ashnu’s thoughts back to him, please? She noticed her ears heating up again. And then the rebuilding of the scientist’s mind began.
Molly swiftly removed the sabrerat mask from the surveillance camera and she and her animal friends left the laboratory. The electric-blue suits were sucked off them in the changing area. Molly, once dressed, took the sabrerat costume off so that she was in her original white jumpsuit again, and she helped Petula remove her webbed feet, fake ears, and beak.
It was cool in the mind-machine room. Molly had nothing to fear now and she wanted to sit in the sun so, stepping outside, she, Petula, and Silver waited in the courtyard for Miss Cribbins to return.
Success tasted very sweet. Molly lay back on the grass, shut her eyes, and smiled to herself. It felt absolutely blissful being complete again and, she had to admit, being powerful again too. Molly felt safe. She felt confident. All the knowledge about hypnotism washed like nutritious currents through her brain. Molly sighed with satisfaction. All she needed now was for Cribbins to hurry back with her crystals. Then she would easily sort everything out. She’d soon have Rocky free.
In the surveillance room a guard watching the show picked up a glass of water. As he sipped, his eyes fell on the figure of a girl lying on the lawn outside the royal machine room. Beside her lay a black pug and on its back perched a black bird. All were basking in the sun. Automatically the guard reached for the red button in front of him. Instantly the alarm was activated. Throughout the palace, workers saw the telltale flashing red lights. All knew what this meant—impostors in the palace. All the monitor room guards picked up their guns and at once set off for the mind-machine room.
Princess Fang sat in the golden royal box inside the auditorium, her pet turquoise grasshopper in its golden cage on her lap. On one side of her, Rocky sat staring straight ahead, dressed in a smart black suit and white shirt with a palm-tree-patterned bow tie. On Fang’s other side, the president of Chinindia clapped delightedly as he watched the spectacular show. Behind, other foreign dignitaries laughed while various members of the royal household sat beside them, bored and stern. The children of the rich mountaintop families were there too, looking poker-faced. The only audience members having fun were the foreign guests and Nurse Meekles and her brood of little children, who sat close to the edge of the arena, having a whale of a time.
The seats sloped away in front of Princess Fang down to the sawdust-strewn stage, where Tortillus stood with two kangaraffes, and a microphone in his hand. In a monotone he was explaining how the beasts’ pens were the largest in the zoo and, to illustrate why, he was getting the long-necked creatures to jump. As the kangaraffes bounced about, Princess Fang blew a pink gum bubble and sneered. She felt ill just looking at wrinkly old Tortillus in his long robe, with his huge tortoise-shell back. She loathed his ugliness. But seeing Tortillus’s mutations also pleased her. For his lowliness reminded her of how she had removed him from his royal seat and taken the throne for herself. It had been like a grand game of musical chairs. Musical thrones. She would insist that he wear a hood and cloak to cover himself on future trips to the palace.
She fingered the many crystals that hung around her neck and wondered whether they would be bait bright enough to lure Molly Moon. Then she saw the red alarm light flashing on her dress. At once she sat straight as a nail. She popped her gum bubble and gave a childish giggle.
“Ah, so you’ve bitten, little fish! About time too.”
“Sorry? Did you say something?” the Chinindian president asked.
“I’ve been bitten!” Princess Fang winced. “So please excuse me; I must get some ointment.” She gathered up her pink taffeta dress, attached the grasshopper’s cage to a sequined hook on her sleeve, slipped off her chair, and marched up the aisle toward the palace courtyards.
“Do not shoot de impostors!” she barked into a radio transmitter on her cuff. “I wepeat: Do not shoot de impostors!” She had already asked the palace guards to switch off the poisonous darts. Fang wanted Molly Moon and Micky Minus alive.
Petula gave a bark and Molly opened her eyes. At once she summoned Petula’s thoughts. A bubble with images of palace guards in it appeared.
“Oh crumbs!” said Molly, jumping to her feet. Petula was barking to the left and to the right. “It’s okay, Petula.” Molly gave her a pat, trying to calm her, but she too was starting to feel distinctly nervous and foolish too for not being more alert. But the thing that made her feel most stupid was that she’d completely forgotten about Fang’s and the guards’ guns. Where had her mind been? What had she been thinking? She couldn’t hypnotize bullets!
As two men in purple soldiers’ uniforms appeared at the courtyard door she grew petrified. Then she walked bravely and briskly toward them. Why, Molly wondered, was Miss Cribbins taking so long? Doubts began to wriggle around in Molly’s brain like hungry maggots. Perhaps Cribbins hadn’t been hypnotized at all; maybe she’d been acting. Then Molly saw her approaching. She was clutching a red box, and two servants followed in her wake. Molly’s imagination somersaulted. What if Cribbins wasn’t hypnotized and the box had a gun in it or a deadly jack-in-the-box that would leap out at Molly when Cribbins opened the l
id? But Molly couldn’t be distracted now by Miss Cribbins. The pressing problem was the guards.
Molly walked toward the nearest one and fired a heavy hypnotic glare at him. Luckily his previous hypnotism couldn’t have been locked in with a password, for at once he was overcome. The second guard was easy too. Adrenaline pumped through Molly as she breathed a small sigh of relief. She sent out thoughts to read Miss Cribbins’s mind. It was blank except for a picture of Molly with a halo over her head. Molly relaxed and took the red leather box. As she undid its lock, more guards broke through the far door of the courtyard. Molly grappled to open the lid. It sprang open. Molly’s heart rocketed and then sank. Inside the box was nothing, just its bare red velvet lining. Molly turned to see a dozen servants and guards bearing down on her and shrieked. Then, realizing that everything hung on this single moment, Molly pulled herself together.
“Help me, Petula!” she shouted.
Petula didn’t need to be asked. They were in an emergency situation—any mongrel could see that. As Molly faced five soldiers who were marching, hands outstretched, toward her, Petula took on a small servant woman in an apron and peaked cap. With fear snapping at her very soul, Petula was determined her eyes would work instantly this time. And they did. The woman stopped dead in her tracks, as hypnotized as a chicken with a circle drawn around it. Petula barked angrily at her as if to say, “Now don’t you DARE move,” before tackling her next opponent.
Molly’s eyes were like lasers. From her shoulder Silver watched as she turned on each servant and guard and in a second burned her hypnotic glare through to their will, binding each in a shacklelike trance. Within a minute they all stood ready to obey Molly’s instructions. With adrenaline pumping through her and her hands sweating, she skidded around and looked about, hardly able to believe how quickly and easily the palace workers had been disarmed. Molly rubbed her fingers together impatiently.
“Come on, come on then,” she said, convinced that more were about to burst through the door. But none did. Instead, Princess Fang appeared.
Seeing the stunned palace guards and servants, the princess immediately assessed the situation.
“More guards! MORE GUARDS!” she screamed into her transmitter, her shrill voice ringing through the clear mountain air. Her eyes were murderous and accusing. Fang could see Molly had her skills back, and she was very puzzled as to how this had come about, but her primary feeling was of pure confidence—she had at last found Molly.
“So, Milly …” she said, not looking Molly in the eye, and moving toward the side of the courtyard.
“Eeeny
Meeny,
Miny,
Moe.”
“Where’s Minus?”
“Tied up,” Molly said calmly, eyeing the crystals that hung heavily around the princess’s neck—three green, three red, and three clear. Molly recognized her own, hanging on their string.
“You know you’re totally twapped,” the princess said, beginning to hurriedly climb a vine that hugged one of the cloister columns. “More guards are coming. Before you can weach me dey’ll be here.” Molly was amazed by how quickly Fang was clambering up onto the roof. “And when dey come,” the princess shouted behind her, “I’ll tell dem not to look in your eyes. Den you’ll be powerless, Milly Moon. I’ll have your pet pug fed to de bearunkeys and you’ll be incinerated!” Her dress caught on the tiled roof and ripped as she scrambled up. “I’m de king of de castle,” she jibed. “You’re de dirty rascal!”
Molly stared longingly at the crystals bobbing around the princess’s neck and she started to run toward the vine. Petula began barking. Then Molly heard the deliberate march of someone approaching the courtyard. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Rocky. She stopped. He walked into the courtyard like a mechanical zombie.
From her rooftop position, Fang cried, “Kill Molly Moon, Rocky! KILL HER! Whatever you do, don’t look at her eyes!”
A second later Rocky registered Molly, and the princess’s fatal instructions kicked in. A ghastly grimace crossed his face, his eyes flashed with hate, and, like a bull, he came charging across the grass. Molly was so shocked that she simply stood there and watched him hurtling toward her. Before she knew it, his hands were around her throat, trying to strangle her.
“Please, stop it! STOB IT!” Molly begged as he throttled her. She gasped and spluttered and then, rallying herself, kneed Rocky as hard as she could in the stomach. For a moment his grip loosened. Molly now punched him as brutally as she could. Her fist slammed into his neck. She hated to do this but saw this wasn’t the real Rocky—this was a brainwashed Rocky, a killer.
Fury boiled inside Molly. She could have caught Fang—she should have caught her and hypnotized her—because now Rocky, of all people, had come to ruin everything. Tormented by this terrible thought, she swung her fist and lashed out again. This time Rocky thumped her in the face. She returned his blow, but did more damage to her fist than to him. His knuckles now came pounding into her nose, smashing it. At once blood began pouring out of it.
From her perch, like a Roman empress watching two gladiators fight, Princess Fang squealed and laughed. She clapped her hands and wiggled her bottom in a spontaneous little victory dance. So enthralled was she that she failed to notice the sound of wings beating behind her.
Like a black arrow, Silver dived toward Fang. His beak extended and, ready to snap, he aimed for the crystals that hung on a string around her neck. And then, for a split second, he landed on her shoulder. With a scissoring peck, he severed the string and took off again with his precious load. As fast as he could, he flew down to where Molly and Rocky tumbled, punching and kicking each other on the ground.
Silver dropped the crystals on the grass by Molly’s hand and hopped onto her head. Molly at once saw her chance. With an enormous effort she rolled away from Rocky, ramming her heel into his knee as she did, and she grabbed her clear gem. Instantly, Molly froze time.
At once the world was cold and still.
The princess stood motionless on the cloister roof, her hands on her hips, staring angrily down. The guards and servants were frozen too. Everywhere was still. In the arena where the show was continuing, kangaraffes were suspended mid-hop and the foreign visitors were statuelike, their hands stiff in clapping positions. Rocky was set rigid, with a violent look on his face. Only Silver, because he was in contact with Molly, was still moving. He looked at the world and whistled.
Twenty-Seven
For a few moments Molly lay exhausted on the grass. The pain in the bridge of her nose was so intense that for a while she could think of nothing else. Molly couldn’t help crying. It had been the worse thing ever to fight like that with Rocky. Silver sat quietly on her head.
Then the throbbing in Molly’s nose ebbed, and the blood in it clotted. Molly dried her eyes. Her face, she knew, was a tear-smeared mess of bruises, blood, and earth.
“Thank you, Silver,” she whispered, catching her breath. Then she gave a shiver and looked about her at the frozen world. She glanced over to Rocky. His face was overcast with a vicious expression.
Molly knew that to hypnotize him she would have to bring her eyes directly into his line of vision. She would have to touch him to send movement into him and, while the rest of the world was frozen, zap him with her eyes. And it had to work the first time, or the monster Rocky would be back.
The problem was that Rocky had originally been hypnotized by Micky and that hypnosis had been locked in. Molly cast her mind back to the picture that had bobbed over Micky’s head when she’d asked him what his hypnotic password was. She’d seen a white meringue pudding on a dish. Was meringue the password? She could only find out by trying.
First Molly checked her eyes. Luckily Rocky hadn’t managed to hit her there. Nothing was blurry—in fact, she could see well. So she summoned up a really powerful beam of hypnotism. It buzzed behind her eyeballs, making her sore nose tingle. Then Molly crawled over to Rocky and, looking straight at him, touched his should
er. He came to life at once. Her eyes blazing, Molly let him have it, and in an instant Rocky was stunned.
“Now, Rocky,” Molly said, “you are no longer under Micky’s power. I unlock you with the password meringue.” Rocky stared straight ahead as though he didn’t understand. “Blast, it’s not working,” Molly muttered. Then she tried again. “With the password, baked Alaska. Still Rocky was unmoved. “With meringuey pudding …” Molly guessed. “With yummy pudding,” she offered. Molly was starting to feel helpless. She thought of the whipped-up meringue she’d seen. Had it been ice cream? “With ice cream,” she jabbed. But this didn’t work either. What had the pudding looked like? Like a mountain of ice cream, she supposed. “With icecream mountain?” she asked. Molly was getting really desperate. At any moment Rocky might jolt out of his trance, if she didn’t nail the password. “With snowy mountain …” she tried. Then, “With MONT BLANC.”Molly threw this last guess into the air without any hope for it at all. But amazingly, it had the effect she wanted. At last Rocky nodded. “Is that the password?” Molly asked, dumbfounded. He nodded again. “Oh thank you!” Molly blew out a sigh of relief. “Now hold on, Rocky. All this will be over soon. So, just remember, when I bring you out of this trance you will be completely your old self, the real Rocky. You won’t have any loyalty to Princess Fang. Okay? You will be as yourself as you were before we came to this place. Do you understand?”
Rocky nodded again.
“All right. In five seconds you will be free from all hypnotism, including mine. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Now!” She clicked her fingers.
At once Rocky sat up. “Oh, Molly,” he moaned, “what have I done? I’m sorry, Molly. Oh no. Oh NO! Look at your nose … your face!”
Molly smiled. She felt like life was suddenly filled to the brim with joy.
