Falcon Quinn and the Black Mirror

by Jennifer Finney Boylan

  “I like waffles,” said Destynee.

  “But he failed to prevent our escape!” said Pearl. “Just as he shall fail again if he tries to do battle with us! Let us engage him then! Let us meet our doom!”

  “Doom,” said Weems happily. “Doom!”

  They all shouted it—Ankh-hoptet and the zombie girls, Destynee and Sparkbolt and Elaine Screamish. They raised their fists in the air. “Doom! Doom! Doom!”

  “Bring the torches,” said Mortia, pointing to the wall. “Bring anything we can use as weapons.”

  “Fire bad,” Sparkbolt pointed out.

  “Exactly,” said Weems.

  “What about him?” said Owen Kearney, pointing to the unconscious Lincoln Pugh. “Shall we leave him to the fate he’s chosen, then?”

  “Augusten?” said Max. “How long’s the werebear out for?”

  “Hard to say,” said Augusten. “I put a spell on him. He’ll stay asleep until he realizes what he is.”

  “You mean, until he realizes he’s a werebear?”

  “No,” said Augusten. “Until he realizes how annoying he is.”

  “I’ll carry him,” said Max. “No reason he should have to stay down here forever, just because he thinks he’s crazy.”

  “Señor Max,” said Pearl. “You are going to need your arms free for the battle that is coming!”

  “Aw, he weighs nothing,” said Max, wrapping Lincoln up in a blanket and slinging him over his shoulder. “I can always drop him if there’s trouble.”

  “Let us go, then,” said Pearl. “The battle for our liberation has begun.”

  Max turned to his classmates and roared. He threw back his head. “Everybody!” he shouted. “MONSTER UP!”

  They thundered through the open door of the dungeon: Destynee, Sparkbolt, Weems, Turpin, Ankh-hoptet, Elaine Screamish, Augusten Krumpet, Owen Kearney, Bonesy, Pearl, Mortia and the three zombie girls: Crumble, Molda, and Putrude. Last of all was Max, carrying Lincoln Pugh, wrapped in a blanket. Their feet clattered on the iron steps as they ascended. They reached the top and crowded into the small antechamber with the fireplace on one wall.

  “I remember this place,” said Ankh-hoptet. “I was carried here entwined in the cursed cords of that dark and spindly mantis!”

  “Reverend Thorax,” said Crumble with a shudder.

  “Okay,” said Owen Kearney, looking impatiently at Pearl and Max and Mortia. “Go on with it, then. Will you not open this secret door and let us through?”

  Mortia pulled on the photo of Falcon, but nothing happened. “It’s not the photo, I guess,” she said. “We tried this before. There must be some other trip wire.”

  They searched the mantelpiece and the fireplace for some sort of secret lever but found nothing.

  “We’re traaaapped,” wailed Elaine Screamish.

  “Here we go,” said Putrude the zombie, “right on schedule.”

  “Screamy,” said Augusten. “Can you hold off on the banshee? Otherwise, I’ll have to sprinkle ya. With the dust?”

  “Guys,” said Max. “We just have to work together here. Everybody look at the wall. There’s gotta be a keyhole, or a trip wire, or something.”

  “How’d you get in here, anyway,” said Molda, “if there’s no key?”

  “We pulled on that photo of Falcon,” said Mortia. “It made the wall spin around.”

  “And whatever is a photograph of Falcon Quinn doin’ on the mantel of the hidjus Crow?” said Owen Kearney. “Tell me that, then!”

  “We do not have all the answers that you seek!” shouted Pearl. “We have only the keys, and our courage! It is with these alone we have come this far! And now you shall aid us in the search for our escape!”

  “We’re doomed,” said Elaine Screamish. “Doooommed!” She sat down on the floor and began to weep.

  “Does anybody see anything that looks like it moves?” said Max. “Check everything!”

  Ankh-hoptet was in the fireplace, pulling on the andirons and the ash trap. “There is nothing here but the memories of fire and shadow,” she said.

  Pearl buzzed high over their heads, circling the small circular chamber in hopes that the additional altitude might enable her to find the hidden mechanism.

  “Ohh, we’re doooomed,” wailed Elaine. Her tears were gathering in a large puddle on the floor now.

  “My name’s Kennedy,” said Destynee. “I like cheeeee—”

  “Destynee,” said Weems, concerned. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  But Destynee could not answer. The moment she stepped into the pool of tears that had fallen from the banshee’s eyes, she began to dissolve. In just a few seconds she had been reduced to a pool of slime upon the floor.

  “You!” said Weems.

  “What?” said Screamy. “Whaaaat?”

  “TEARS,” said Sparkbolt. “TEARS MELT SLUG. MELT SLUG BAD! BAD!”

  “You fool!” cried Weems. “You have dissolved the beloved!”

  “Oh no,” said Screamy. “I am so sorry!”

  “Wait,” said Pearl, buzzing over their heads. “The slime is moving!”

  Pearl was right. The puddle of slug slime slowly began to creep across the floor, toward the false wall. It oozed into the crack between the wall and the floor, inch by inch, until it was gone.

  There was a moment’s silence as the last of Destynee disappeared; then suddenly they heard her voice.

  “Hey!” she said. “I’m all right. I’m on the other side!”

  “Whoa,” said Max. “She deslimed herself.”

  “Where have I been?” said Destynee. “What happened to me?”

  “Destynee,” said Weems. “You’re in the headmaster’s office. You got slimed, but you put yourself together.”

  “I’m okay!” said Destynee, and she sounded like herself again. “I remember now. But where—where is Falcon? Is Falcon all right?”

  Weems just shook his head. “Falcon Quinn,” he muttered. “Always Falcon Quinn.”

  “I’m so relieeeeeeved,” wailed Elaine Screamish.

  “Save it, Screamy,” said Mortia. “Destynee, do you see any kind of trip wire or latch over there?”

  “I’m looking,” said Destynee. “It looks like there was some sort of struggle in here. The furniture’s all turned over, like there was a fight.”

  “Falcon…,” said Max.

  “There’s another photo of Falcon on the mantelpiece on this side,” said Destynee. “Aw, he looks so little!”

  Weems hissed to himself.

  “Okay, I’m going to—”

  There was a click, and then the sound of rotating gears. A moment later all fifteen of them spun forward into the headmaster’s office, as Destynee was spun back, on her side of the rotating wall, into the antechamber of the dungeon. Just before the wall clicked closed, however, Max reached forward with his huge arms and pushed back on it. He gritted his teeth as he used his powerful Sasquatch muscles to hold the secret door open for a moment. Weems reached through the opening and pulled Destynee out to safety.

  “At last,” said Weems. “The beloved is safe!”

  The wall clicked back into place.

  “I wonder what happened to Falcon,” said Destynee.

  “You wonder what…,” said Weems.

  “I just hope he’s okay!” said Destynee. “If anything happened to him, I’d—”

  “I don’t believe this,” muttered Weems.

  “Hey, Destynee,” said Mortia. “If you don’t mind my saying—you’re an awesome slug.”

  The others winced, afraid that Destynee was going to begin to bemoan the fact of her sluggishness. But instead she just smiled with a strangely peaceful expression.

  “Yes,” Destynee said quietly. “I am an awesome slug.”

  “Max,” said Mortia. “You dropped Lincoln Pugh.”

  Lincoln lay asleep at Max’s feet, where he had fallen after slipping off of the Sasquatch’s shoulder.

  “Whups,” said Max.

  “Destynee!�
� said Putrude. “You saved us.”

  “I did,” said Destynee, amazed at herself. “I did!”

  “What are they doing?” said a voice behind them. “They are not permitted in the office of the headmaster. Not permitted!”

  They spun around to see the moth man, standing in the open, unlocked doorway, holding two large buckets of macaroni and cheese.

  “Moth man,” said Max.

  “It returns to the dungeon,” said the moth man. “Until its lesson is learned!”

  But at this moment the four zombie girls—led by Mortia—stepped toward him, growling angrily. Their eyes burned with fire. “The lesson,” said Mortia, “has been learned, Mr. Pupae! The lesson has been learned!”

  “It steps back,” said the moth man. “It steps away from us!”

  The zombies backed the moth man into the hallway. Then, suddenly, he dropped his pails and ran. He tore down the hallway and rushed outside.

  “Hey!” shouted Max. “Make sure the mac and cheese is okay!”

  “That was a most impressive display,” said Pearl. “You filled the moth man himself with a sense of impending doom and dismay!”

  “It’s all in the stagger,” said Mortia.

  At this moment a loud siren went off.

  “Dude,” said Max.

  “Let us move with haste toward the gates of the school,” said Pearl. “All of us! Advance!”

  Max threw Lincoln, still wrapped up in his blanket, over his shoulder, then ran with the others out the front door, down the hall, and out into the central quadrangle of the Academy’s Upper School.

  “And you’re sure you’ve got the keys to the gates this time, then?” said Owen Kearney.

  “Oh, we got keys,” said Max.

  “Siren LOUD,” said Sparkbolt.

  “So much for the element of surprise,” said Mortia.

  They reached the gates, and Mortia began to try the keys on Quimby’s ring in the keyhole. None of them seemed to fit.

  “Uh-oh,” said Max.

  “What?” said Mortia. “What is uh-oh?”

  Max was looking back at the buildings of the Upper School.

  “Bug,” said Max.

  They turned around now to look at the main academic building of the Upper School, the HALL OF WRIGGLING CREATURES, from which Reverend Thorax emerged and began to speed toward them, all horrible legs and giant triangular head.

  “Now would be a good time to find the key in question,” said Pearl.

  “I’m not afraid of a bug,” said Owen Kearney. “Let’s give him a bit of the snows of the frozen north!” He stepped toward the praying mantis and raised his hand, and a blast of ice and snow coated the giant insect, encasing Reverend Thorax in ice crystals.

  “Whoa,” said Max. “That was excellent!”

  “The keys!” said Pearl. “Surely you have found the key!”

  “I’m trying,” said Mortia. “There are a lot of keys on this ring.”

  There was a crackling sound, followed by the sound of ice falling and crashing into tiny pieces on the stones. Reverend Thorax had shaken off the ice that encased him, and now wriggled toward them with redoubled fury.

  “Bug,” said Max. “Again.”

  “I got it,” said Mortia, as the last key suddenly turned around in the lock. “I got it!”

  “Hurry!” said Pearl, and they all rushed forward through the opening gates. They were all but through when Max said, “Uh-oh.”

  “What?” said Mortia.

  “Forgot Lincoln Pugh.” He turned and dashed back through the gates, picked up Lincoln Pugh, and threw him over his shoulder. Then he started to race toward the still-open gates. Reverend Thorax, however, grabbed one of Max’s legs with his pincer—and the Sasquatch crashed onto the ground, throwing Lincoln Pugh in the air as he fell. Augusten Krumpet caught Lincoln in his arms.

  “Run, everybody,” said Max. “Run!”

  Instead they all stood in horror as Reverend Thorax pinned Max to the ground. “Dude,” said Max. “He’s got me—”

  “¡Aiiiii!” shouted Pearl, plunging back through the gates. “The giant stinkbag mantis does not attack the gallant Sasquatch Maxwell Parsons! This attack shall not proceed. And now, Padre Thorax, you shall feel the stinger of death!”

  The others yelled and screamed and followed after her. Sparkbolt led the charge, roaring and grabbing on to one of the six wriggling legs and wrenching it from side to side. Weems, also yelling, grabbed another one of the legs and sank his jagged teeth into it. Ankh-hoptet stood by the mantis’s face and denounced it with Egyptian curses, and as she did, one of the eyes exploded with an unpleasant wet pop. Elaine Screamish wailed at a high pitch, causing a rent to form in Reverend Thorax’s face, a rip that shuddered down the length of the creature. Owen Kearney filled the air with blasts of ice and snow, and Augusten Krumpet sprinkled fairy dust around Reverend Thorax’s head, so that the eye that had not exploded already slowly grew sleepy and dull. Crumble and Molda and Putrude broke off pieces of the mantis’s body as they froze from Owen’s frosting, and Pearl buzzed around and around the body, stinging it, even after it was obvious that Reverend Thorax had been taken down. With a heavy crunch, the praying mantis collapsed on the ground and rolled over onto its back. The remaining legs twitched once, twice, then stopped moving altogether.

  “We did it!” shouted Bonesy. “We’re—warriors! We’re—somebody!”

  “Max…,” said Mortia, looking at where Pearl was kneeling on the ground, holding Max’s hand. “Is he—?”

  “Oh noooo,” said Elaine Screamish. “Oh nooooooo.”

  “Señor Max,” said Pearl, reaching forward to touch his hairy belly. “This—cannot be.”

  But the Sasquatch had fallen.

  “Oh no,” said Destynee.

  “He was a Sasquatch of honor,” said Owen Kearney. “Devil the man who’d say a word against him.”

  “Señor,” said Pearl. Her wings slowly stopped buzzing and fell silent. “Señor.”

  The large hairy body lay there motionless, and the hands that once had held entire pizza pies were empty and lifeless.

  “He saved Lincoln Pugh,” said Augusten.

  “Come on,” said Weems. “We have work to do.”

  “Oh, what work can we do now?” said Bonesy. “We’re nobodies without him!”

  Tears ran down Pearl’s face. “Señor,” she whispered softly. “Señor.”

  “Dude,” said Max softly, and opened his eyes, “you don’t think I could have some of that mac and cheese now?”

  Pearl’s eyes grew wide, “Señor!” she shouted, and Max got slowly to his feet. Pearl’s wings began to beat again, and she soared around the Sasquatch in joy and relief.

  “I’ll get the mac and cheese,” said Mortia, shaking her head.

  “You shall have it all!” shouted Pearl. And everyone cheered.

  “Man, that was one big bug,” said Max.

  “Here’s your mac and cheese,” said Mortia, bringing over the giant buckets.

  “Oh, man,” said Max, and dunked his whole head into one of the buckets. Then he pulled his face out and ate several scoops of mac and cheese with his hands.

  “I hope it is to your liking!” said Pearl.

  “Guys,” said Mortia. “We should keep moving.”

  “SAVE FALCON QUINN! said Sparkbolt. “FALCON QUINN FRIEND!” He pointed up toward the Tower of Souls.

  There, framed in one of the arches beneath the ancient clock, was the silhouette of the Crow. He held Falcon’s motionless body in his arms.

  “He’s got Falcon,” said Mortia. “The Crow!”

  “We must save our comrade!” shouted Pearl.

  “We can’t fight the Crow,” said Destynee. “He’s too horrible.”

  “Our friend is in mortal danger!” said Pearl. “This is all that we know!”

  “He came for Weems,” said Weems. “Weems shall come for him.”

  “Has the Sasquatch replenished himself?” said Pearl.

&nb
sp; “Totally,” said Max.

  They all stormed toward the gates, which had swung shut once more. Mortia turned the key in the lock, and again they all rushed through the gates and back onto the campus of Castle Grisleigh.

  “Dude,” said Max. “I forgot Lincoln Pugh again!”

  He went back and picked up the still-sleeping werebear, looking peaceful in the folds of his gray blanket, and then he walked through the iron gates, Lincoln snoring contentedly in his arms. The other students were standing like statues just on the other side of the gates.

  “Uh-oh,” said Max.

  There before them, in a semicircle, were all the teachers and staff of the Academy, blocking their path. Mr. Hake stood at the far right, in Terrible Kraken mode, his tentacles wriggling in every direction. At the far left of the semicircle was Mrs. Redflint, her nostrils puffing now with thick black smoke, like a volcano about to erupt. And between them stood all the other instructors and nurses from the Wellness Center, even the cafeteria staff. They were not smiling.

  “Well, well,” said Mrs. Redflint. “The creatures have made their escape.”

  “Yes,” said Pearl. “We have indeed broken free from your chains! Guided by nothing more than our own courage, we have—”

  Mrs. Redflint shot a blast of red fire at Pearl, and a moment later the Chupakabra lay buzzing on her back on the ground, toasted like a marshmallow.

  “Dude,” said Max.

  “Look at you all,” said Mrs. Redflint. “Such disgusting things. A Sasquatch! A goatsucker! A skeleton and a ghoul! Hmm, let’s see, three—no, four zombies! Mr. Sparkbolt the Frankenstein, all sewn together out of someone else’s guts! Mr. Turpin the wereturtle, Mr. Pugh—what’s this—all asleep, the dear thing, the werebear. A mummy, a fairy, a banshee, and—oh yes—a wereslug, only recently recovered from her brain wipe!”

  “And a partridge in a pear tree,” said Mr. Hake, turning back into human form. “Ha, ha, ha! That’s a little joke! A funny joke about a Christmas song! I like Christmas! I like presents! But you know what’s better than getting presents? Giving presents!”

  “If you’re going to kill us, kill us and get it over with,” said Weems. “Just don’t make us listen to that idiot.”

  “Ah, such impatience,” said Mrs. Redflint. “But hmm, no, I don’t think we’ll kill you.”