“What’s the point?” Priss asked, tromping down the trail. “We’re already here.”
The dirt road emerged from the other side of the forest and opened onto a flat, lush meadow. Wildflowers dotted the landscape, like brilliantly colored lollipops. Gordy had never seen such a beautiful vista. The flowers were purple and blue and pink. Several of them were fluorescent yellow, while others had checkered patterns or polka dots.
At the end of the trail, about a quarter mile away, there was a house with a tin roof gleaming in the sun. Behind the house stood a silo, and beyond that was an enormous garden plot. A storm cloud floated lazily above the garden, dumping sheets of rain upon the plants. Gordy had to do a double take. Other than that single cloud, the sky was virtually clear, and the sun hung low on the horizon, inches away from setting behind the trees. It had to be some sort of weather anomaly.
Midway through the meadow, as the group neared the rustic brown fence circling the property, a peculiar cool mist appeared at their feet. The mist felt wet and sudsy, like bubble bath nearing the end of its life in a tub, and Gordy knew it had to be something unnatural, something created in a lab, but he wasn’t certain of its purpose.
“What is this slop?” Isaac demanded, scrambling down from Max’s back and wading through the soapy substance. Jessica giggled, and her dad set her on the ground. The twins frolicked through the mist, scooping up handfuls of suds and blowing the bubbles at each other.
“Don’t play in that!” Gordy’s mom demanded.
“It’s harmless,” Priss said. “It’s just a security measure, that’s all. They’ll be fine.”
“Are those birds?” Max asked, jogging forward to join Gordy at his side. He pointed to a bright white mass high above the garden.
Gordy had initially mistaken the mass as part of the cloud, but as they got closer to the house, he could see hundreds, no, thousands of birds, cawing noisily above the low rumbling thunder.
“I’ve never seen anything like that in my life,” Gordy’s dad muttered. “What do you think they are doing?”
The birds circled madly above the cloud as though trapped in a funneling cyclone. The formation had to reach at least a mile or two above the ground, but not a single bird flew away.
“They’re helping Tobias’s garden grow,” Priss answered matter-of-factly.
Gordy’s mom suddenly looked up, infuriated, and snatched open her satchel. She tore into the pockets and produced a potion in each hand. “You brought us here?”
“I didn’t have much choice, now did I?” Priss responded.
“I would stop right there if I were you!” an amplified voice bellowed over the squawking birds. “You have intruded on private property, and I have every right to defend myself, which I intend to do posthaste.” The voice carried an Irish brogue. “Lower your weapons or I will be inclined to use deadly force!”
Gordy stood still, eyeing his mom and Zelda, who both clasped colorful bottles in their hands. Bolter stooped low, crouching next to Max, eyes darting around wildly.
“Where is that coming from?” Bolter asked. “Are we about to be ambushed?”
“Indeed you shall, kind sir, if you don’t comply with my commands!” the voice answered, somehow having heard Bolter’s hushed inquiry.
“Do as he says,” Priss instructed. She nodded at the vials her sister held and patted the air in front of her. “Don’t give him any reason to show off.” Her eyes flickered toward the house with annoyance.
“Tobias McFarland is your source?” Gordy’s mom asked in disbelief. She gawked at Priss as though she had magically sprouted wings. “After all this time, you’ve been putting Gordy’s life in danger based on that madman’s word?”
Priss’s eyes narrowed. “Gordy’s still breathing, isn’t he? Thanks in part to him.” She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder at the house.
“Priss!” Gordy’s mom hissed. “We are not going in there!”
“That’s right. You’re not,” Tobias’s voice responded. “You’re going to turn on your axles and hightail it out of here before I unleash the dogs.”
“You don’t have dogs,” Priss said, rolling her eyes.
“I could have dogs, Priscilla!” Tobias shouted, his voice booming as though coming through a megaphone. “And I’ll sic them on you first for allowing your nasty sister to sully my mist with her vindictive shoes. Now, if you don’t want to find yourself smothering in my swamp, you best be on your way before I command my wards to drown you.”
“Maybe we should go back?” Gordy’s dad suggested. “He clearly has a problem with you.” He looked at Wanda. She didn’t respond, but gritted her teeth.
“I agree with Gordon,” Bolter said, already facing the other direction. “We’re not welcome here.”
“If he wanted us gone, we would have never made it this close to his house. He’s bluffing.” Priss cupped her hands around her mouth to project her voice. “We both know you’re not going to turn any of us away. Not until you hear what happened at B.R.E.W. So quit sniveling and hiding in your loft and come down to let us in.”
A crackle of lightning erupted from the cloud, followed by a resonating clap of thunder. The birds continued their circling motion, unfazed by the disruption. Gordy braced himself as he waited to hear the sound of barking dogs racing around from the rear of the house, but there were no other noises, and Tobias’s megaphone had gone unnervingly quiet.
After several tense seconds, the door leading into the small cottage creaked opened, and a man of no more than forty years of age, and with the brightest shock of red hair Gordy had ever seen, stepped onto the porch. In one hand, the man held a long wooden spoon about the size of his arm. In the other, he held a device he had used to amplify his voice, though it looked like a miniature phonograph horn connected to a handheld radio.
Tobias squinted at the group for a moment and then furiously attacked an itch on his upper lip with his finger. He puckered his lips to one side and huffed.
“Priscilla,” he said, acknowledging Gordy’s aunt with a modest nod.
“Tobias,” she replied, shifting her weight to one side, and glaring at the man with disapproval.
“Well, don’t just stand there like a bunch of vegetables.” Tobias turned and waved his wooden spoon at the group. “I just put a pot on. Come inside before it gets dark.”
Tobias McFarland’s house carried the pungent aroma of manure and spoiled milk. Fortunately, the smell didn’t linger; rather it occasionally wafted through the rooms as though caught upon a breeze. Pots brimming with leafy vegetation filled every inch of available space. Vines as thick as Gordy’s leg dangled from the ceiling like garland, and honeybees the size of golf balls alighted on flowers that dripped with pollen.
“This is moss,” Max whispered in Gordy’s ear, pointing to the floor. They weren’t walking upon carpet after all. “Who is this nut?”
Gordy held up his finger to shush Max as Tobias led them into the dining room opposite the kitchen. This wasn’t the time to insult the host, especially one who lived in a house that hummed and buzzed as though it were alive.
“Have a seat.” Tobias directed the group to a table with several chairs. “The wee ones can go play in the back. I have built a sandbox in the guest bedroom. Just don’t bury yourself too deep.”
“Uh, no, that’s a bad idea,” Gordy’s mom said, when Isaac and Jessica were about to dash off down the hallway. “I want you close by.”
Tobias chuckled mirthlessly. “Right, because all I need to do is make an enemy out of Wanda Stitser’s children. Let them play, you mean hornet, and drink your tea.” He slammed a saucer down in front of Wanda, splashing the brownish liquid onto the table, and glowered at her. Gordy’s mom returned the expression, and Tobias turned up his nose before meandering back into the kitchen for more cups.
“I love sandboxes,” Zelda said, beaming. “I’
ll keep an eye on them.” She held out a hand to Isaac and Jessica and escorted them down the hallway.
“Okay, what did I miss?” Gordy’s dad asked, his voice low. “Why does that man hate you so much?”
Gordy’s mom sighed and stirred a spoonful of sugar into her teacup. “Because he’s spiteful,” she said, staring pointedly at Priss. “He holds grudges for far too long, and he’s not someone to be trusted.”
“That’s not the reason.” Priss raised her eyebrows. “Tobias hates Wanda because she had him fired from B.R.E.W.”
“Really?” Gordy asked.
“Yes, well, he was breaking the rules.” Gordy’s mom swallowed a sip of her tea and puckered her lips in satisfaction. “It’s highly illegal to brew weather potions.”
Weather potions? Gordy had never heard of such a practice, but it made sense. The rogue storm cloud, hovering above Tobias’s garden. The strange mist. Admittedly, Gordy wasn’t sure how the birds factored into the equation, but it probably had something to do with the weather as well.
“Get out!” Max slapped his knee. “That dude worked for B.R.E.W.? Here all this time I thought Bolter was the biggest kook to ever call himself an Elixirist.”
Gordy looked over and saw Bolter spooning a dollop of mayonnaise into his tea from a half-empty jar in his satchel, oblivious to the conversation.
“I never meant for Tobias to lose his job, but he couldn’t carry on doing what he was doing while living within the general public,” Gordy’s mom continued. “Weather potions are unstable and dangerous, and he put innocent people’s lives at stake for selfish reasons.”
“Obviously, he doesn’t see it that way.” Priss casually stirred her cup. “Lots of people take risks in the name of exploration.”
“A miniature hurricane in a public swimming pool is not worth the risk!” Wanda snapped.
Max snickered in surprise and elbowed Gordy’s ribs. Gordy started laughing as well. Tobias McFarland sounded like a genius.
“Don’t laugh,” Gordy’s mom chided through a half smile. “I did the right thing by reporting him to the Chamber, and he didn’t handle the consequences with dignity or grace. Tobias could have applied for reinstatement after one year of his termination, but instead he went on the lam. Sounds like criminal behavior to me.”
“A criminal who has helped us take down quite a few Scourges over the past months,” Priss said. “All while in defiance of his father.”
“Yes, that’s the other thing.” Wanda pounded the end of her spoon on the table. “His father is Ravian McFarland, who was once Mezzarix’s right-hand man! And who’s never been caught by B.R.E.W., by the way. I’d bet the contents of my entire potion satchel that Ravian was in on this attack.”
“Aye, he was,” Tobias said, returning from the kitchen carrying a large platter with what looked like a gigantic gourd steaming upon it. “Orchestrated the whole skirmish from the shadows. Been dreaming about it for years, trying to recruit me to his cause. But we’ll not talk of that over supper.” He carefully lowered the platter with his oven mitts and slid it to the center of the table. “Careful now. It’s piping hot.”
“Uh, what is it?” Max asked, cowering away from the platter.
“What is it?” Tobias gawked at the others in astonishment. “It’s squash, you dolt! What do you think it is?”
With a sharp knife and spatula, Tobias served up slices of squash onto ten separate plates. The inside flesh of the gourd possessed a bright-pink hue, like the color of upset-stomach medicine, and there were yellow seeds peppering the vegetable.
“I’ll set out some for the kiddies. They’ll want to try it, believe me,” Tobias said. Gordy could hear Isaac and Jessica’s raucous squeals coming from the back room.
“I think I’ll pass,” Max said. “I had plenty of dried leaves earlier today. I’m good.”
“Really now?” Tobias asked. “You don’t want to sample my Bardoo McBoogal Squash? It’s my own design, and it tastes just like fettuccini Alfredo and garlic breadsticks, but with only a fourth of the calories!”
Max folded his arms defiantly, but Gordy felt too hungry to resist. He cut a piece with his fork and took a bite. The squash tasted exactly how Tobias had described it. Salty and creamy and oh so garlicky. He did have to close his eyes while he chewed in order to not think about the weird pink-and-yellow vegetable, but after several bites, he no longer cared how it looked. Soon everyone at the table tucked into their pieces of Bardoo McBoogal Squash, savoring several helpings of Tobias’s unusual creation.
After dinner, Tobias handed out garbage bags for each of them to wear over their clothes to keep them from getting soaked and took the group through his backyard for a tour of his garden.
“The rain lasts for three weeks, and then I have to rebrew the batter,” Tobias said, stepping through a gate. “Takes a while though. Very tedious. And the birds provide an excellent source of nutrients for my plants.” He pointed skyward, and Gordy realized why they needed to wear the garbage bags. Along with the rain, the birds supplied an endless onslaught of droppings.
“Don’t look up for too long, and whatever you do, don’t open your mouth,” Tobias warned.
Max clamped his mouth shut, and Gordy suspected it would be the first time he kept silent.
“You’ve trapped those birds,” Gordy’s mom said.
Tobias shivered as though he had just stepped in something disgusting. “Yes, dear Wanda, I trap the birds, but I let them go from time to time. And I feed them well. Be sure to include that in your report to the Chamber when you rat me out for the second time.”
Gordy wasn’t sure what to expect beyond the gate, but nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. Pumpkins the size of small cars sprouted up along the path, pulsating as though the vegetables were enormous hearts. There were rows of strawberries and blueberries as big as basketballs and stalks of fat corn with plump kernels the size of Gordy’s cellphone. But Tobias had a variety of other fruits and vegetables as well, ones that Gordy knew didn’t exist outside of the garden. He called one species Doober McTuber, which could have been a potato had it not been bright blue and covered in hair. And yet another one Tobias had named Shiny McFiney; it was a long and thin fruit with a reflective surface that tasted oddly like carbonated raspberry Jell-O.
“And over here.” Tobias directed Gordy’s attention to a patch of ordinary earth that had been cordoned off with electric wire. “I call this Spikey McOuchy!”
“No offense,” Max said from the rear of the group, finally opening his mouth, “but you’ve got the dumbest names I’ve ever heard.”
“Who said that?” Tobias strained his neck to see to the back. “Ah, and your name? What would that be?”
Max frowned. “Max.”
Tobias scoffed. “Max. What kind of dimwit name is that? I’ll have you know, Max, that my names all have a certain important meaning. And if you pay close attention to that name, it might just save your life.” He tossed a half-eaten wedge of squash onto the patch of ground, and sharp spikes suddenly shot up, impaling the vegetable. Juice splattered, and the spikes, like multiple pairs of scissors made of a spiny, scaly material, diced the squash into a pulpy mash. “I have planted this stuff on different parts of my land and have it marked very carefully with its name. So you remember Spikey McOuchy, Max,” he said scornfully, “and you won’t end up befooted. Lucky for you, Priscilla is a friend of mind. Even if her harpy sister isn’t!”
Tobias’s property was very impressive, and though he spat out venomous names at Gordy’s mom whenever the opportunity presented itself, Gordy felt a strange appreciation for the man. He had saved Gordy’s life. It had been his information that had led to Yeltzin and Esmeralda’s capture. And without Tobias’s helpful tip, Priss may have never found out about the attack on B.R.E.W., and Gordy and Max would have still been tied up in vines.
Back inside the house, T
obias laid out blankets on the floor and rounded up as many pillows as he could find. Max called his mom and explained why he hadn’t texted earlier, but he left out the part about the Somnium building nearly exploding. Mrs. Pinkerman was mad for about ten seconds until Max told her he would be coming home with loads of Somnium samples the next day. And since it was the weekend, she didn’t require any further persuasion to grant Max permission to stay the night with Gordy.
Had Gordy’s mom not given each of them a sip of sleeping potion, it would have taken the twins hours to settle down after having played in the sandbox, which remarkably took up the entire spare bedroom. Even after digging for two solid hours, Isaac, with Zelda’s help, had yet to reach the bottom. Gordy’s dad had to jump down in the hole to help them both out.
Gordy had hoped to have a discussion with his mom and the others about what had happened at B.R.E.W., but when the night truly took hold outside, everyone’s fatigue caught up with them. It had been an exhausting day, after all.
Gordy must have fallen asleep sometime in the early hours of morning, because, try as he might, he couldn’t remember the events that happened next.
Stumbling through the kitchen, Gordy took up his satchel and removed every potion vial from the various compartments. He laid them all in a row on the kitchen counter and ignited a flame on one of the oven’s burners. Blue fire licked the bowl of his porcelain cauldron, and he began absentmindedly tossing in ingredients. He emptied a bottle of ogon oil into the mixture and sprinkled in Icelandic volcanic sand from a salt shaker. Then Gordy yanked several strands of his own hair from the top of his head and added that to the mixture. The potion began to thrash and collapse upon itself, steam whistling as it drifted out of the bowl.
Gordy rummaged deeper into his bag, lifting up a flap of leather at the bottom and revealing a hidden compartment. From this, he removed a small glass jar containing a murky gray liquid and a roughly hewn piece of rock clinking against the glass. The jar did not belong in his satchel, and Gordy hadn’t known about the secret compartment prior to that moment. With the lid removed, he took up the jar in his hands and readied to pour it into his cauldron.
The Transparency Tonic Page 20
