Zachary Pill, Of Monsters and Magic

by Tim Greaton

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  Completely abandoning the turtle show, he kept thinking of reasons to get up: going to the bathroom, getting a drink, filling the pitcher to water his plants, checking his bruised nose and even brushing his teeth—twice. Each trip required him to pass the closed office door where he caught tiny snippets of his father’s conversations:

  “I didn’t tell Gefarg anything about the Corridors…”

  “No, I don’t know how my father got us out. No one does…”

  “Yes, I heard about the prophesy, but I can’t believe Merlin took the old witch’s word for it…”

  “…something must have happened…”

  “I think Gefarg must have contacted Krage…”

  “No, I don’t have a clue who the child Guardian is supposed to be…”

  “Who is guarding Earth right now?...”

  “What do you mean no one ever found Merlin’s body?...”

  After his fifth or sixth bathroom trip, Zachary dropped back into his mother’s chair and tried to make some sense of the eavesdropped clues. Of course, he’d only heard his father’s side of the conversations, but one thing was for sure: something in the magical world—a world he was just beginning to learn about―was wrong. Warlocks, a child guardian, a prophesy: what did it all mean? And what had that been about his grandfather escaping? Had his family been prisoners? Zachary wished he knew more about their history, but his father had never revealed a single detail about where he grew up, where he went to school, not even what kind of pets he owned when he had been a kid. His childhood was a complete mystery to Zachary.

  Knowing he didn’t have enough information, Zachary gave up for the moment on the family past and instead considered the name “Merlin.” Nurse Nightshade had said something about someone named Merlin dying, and he had overheard his father saying that no one had found Merlin’s body. Who was Merlin? Zachary was certain his father had never mentioned the name before. The only Merlin he’d ever heard of was from “Tales of King Arthur.” In the stories, he had been the wizard.

  A chill coursed up and down his back.

  It all comes back to magic!

  The knowledge that magic was real and that his father had a magic wand still seemed unbelievable. It was like finding out that Santa Claus, Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer and the Easter Bunny not only existed but all lived in the same apartment down the hall. However, as he had already seen with the messenger worms, magic wasn’t as happy and cheerful as holiday characters.

  Grabbing the TV remote, he flipped through a dozen channels before settling on an old black and white western. He usually got a kick at how the good guys were always spectacular shots and yet the bad guys could never seem to hit anything. Tonight, however, he barely noticed which was which. Most of the cowboy movie had passed in a preoccupied haze by the time his father emerged from his office.

  “Thanks for taking care of the mess, Zach,” he said.

  Zachary wanted to blurt out his list of questions right then and there, but the look on his father’s face stopped him. A combination of fear and determination, his expression was like nothing Zachary had ever seen before.

  “Are you alright?” his father asked in a tight voice. “I know a lot happened today.”

  “Most of it happened to you, too,” Zachary said.

  Other than starting that stupid fight!

  “It hasn’t been a great day for either of us, that’s for sure.” His father’s face hardened and he shook his head. “But it’ll be better when we get you someplace safe.” He forced a smile. “Your nose doesn’t look so swollen.”

  “It’s doesn’t hurt either, unless I touch it.”

  “Tomorrow will be better, son. I’ll make sure of it.”

  Zachary nodded.

  “I’m going to bed. You should probably do the same, Zach. We have a lot to do tomorrow.”

  “Goodnight, Dad.”

  After his father’s bedroom door closed, Zachary shut off the TV and walked to the living room window where he could stare out at the sparkling Boston skyline. Even late at night, fourteen stories above the street, he could still hear the murmur of traffic below. Boston never stopped. He tried to focus on the headlights that scurried like fireflies below, but he couldn’t get his father’s frightened expression out of his mind. At that moment, while staring out at the city he had known his entire life, Zachary knew they were in trouble.

  10) Danger in the Wind

  Zachary gave his father half an hour to fall asleep before slipping into the little office to see if he could find any information. Unfortunately, the desktop and drawers were clean of any notes or other hints, and his father’s briefcase was locked. The trash can was also empty. He moved his father’s desk away from the wall in hopes that some clue might have fallen behind, but the only thing he found was a wallet-size photograph. Picking it up, he could dimly see a face through the coating of dust. Expecting to see either his or his mother’s green hair, he wiped the grime away and all thoughts of Stephanie Travis immediately fled his mind. The girl in the image had bright red hair, freckles and a beautiful smile. The pink flower on her head made her hair made her red hair all that much more stunning. She seemed to be about his age and for some reason that thought made his face flush.

  What am I doing?

  He knew nothing about the girl in the photo, and it didn’t seem possible she could have anything to do with the current crisis. He meant to slip the picture under the grocery list in the top drawer of his father’s desk, but somehow it wound up in his pocket instead. He had pushed the desk back and was just looking around the room for any other possible places he could check when a loud thump came from the other room.

  Then another.

  Zachary’s stomach clenched with fear. Something was wrong, really wrong. Swallowing hard, he crept down the hallway and peered into the living room. A shadow crossed the window.

  A shadow outside the fourteenth floor?

  Most birds didn’t even fly that high.

  Another shadow darted past. Then a third came straight toward Zachary and smacked into the thick living room glass. For just a moment, before falling away, red eyes glared at him.

  Horrified, Zachary looked to the kitchen where a steady breeze caused the curtains on either side of the broken window to flutter like flags on a pole. Anything could come through that window. To make matters worse, the lights suddenly went out. He didn’t know what caused it, but there wasn’t a single light in the apartment. What was happening? Suddenly the home that had sheltered him since birth had become a real-life house of horrors.

  “Zach!” his father yelled. “Get in here!”

  Zachary didn’t need a second invitation. Hand groping along the wall, he stumbled down the dark hallway and shoved his father’s bedroom door open. It took him only a second to run into the bed. Even the soft impact of the mattress sent shards of pain through his arm. A shadow thumped against the bedroom window.

  “Dad?”

  “Bats,” his father said. “Damned things are bats!”

  Zachary slid his hand along the wall and tried to flip on the light switch several times.

  Click, click. Click, click.

  “Don’t bother,” his father said from somewhere down near the floor. “I shut off the breaker. It’s better if they can’t see us.”

  Another large shape slammed against the window, and Zachary could have sworn he heard the faint chink of cracking glass. He wanted to run so badly that he half-turned toward the door before realizing that leaving the apartment would mean running past the opening left by the broken kitchen window. On second thought, he wasn’t going anywhere near that.

  “Help, Zach,” his father said in an urgent voice. “My wand rolled off the bed.”

  Zachary heard a louder thump against the window and saw more red eyes pressed against the glass. Wishing he had grabbed the flashlight out of the kitchen drawer, he got to his knees and ignored the pain as he pulled his broken arm out of the sling and immediately began searchin
g the floor with his hands. His cast made swishing sounds against the carpet as he and his father scrabbled to find the wand.

  Suddenly, they heard an explosion of glass coming from the living room and the sound of wind rushing through the apartment. The bedroom door blew open and slammed against the wall. The air was filled with loud screeches, squeaks, and flapping sounds.

  “Got it!” his father yelled, scrambling to his feet. “Get behind me!”

  Zachary had no idea how to accomplish that since his cast made it difficult to extract himself out from under the bed, but he didn’t have long to think about it. A sudden flare of blue light momentarily filled the room. The mattress above him sagged as his father rolled across the bed and jumped to the open bedroom door. He was yelling in a singsong language Zachary couldn’t understand when, all of a sudden, there was a brighter flash of blue light. Hissing sounds came from the kitchen end of the apartment.

  “Come on!” his father shouted over the hurricane of air that literally blew pictures off from the bedroom walls.

  Zachary braced himself against the bed with his good hand and got to his feet. He couldn’t locate his sling so he was forced to leave his broken arm dangling painfully at his side. He squinted in the darkness and tried to block his eyes as a glass lamp blew off the dresser and smashed on the floor just inches from his feet. Dozens of similar crashes came from the other rooms as well.

  “Zach, hurry!” came his father’s voice, barely audible over the harsh sounds all