The black-ops CIA agents all stood on the porch grinning, while ten thousand paparazzi began flashing photographs of his dad’s World Wrestling Federation boxer shorts.
“Good morning, Mr. Ravenspell,” one of the CIA agents shouted. “I have a gift basket here, compliments of the president of the United States and your friendly neighborhood CIA. I strongly advise that you take it.”
The agent shoved the basket into his dad’s hands, and just for effect, he opened the lapel of his jacket widely enough so that Ben could see a small machine gun—an UZI—with a big silencer on it. The CIA agent flashed a smile and said, “The gifts are for Amber and Ben.”
Butch Ravenspell smiled nervously and tried to shut the door, but suddenly some reporter with legs about ten feet long shoved his foot in the crack.
There were confused shouts from the reporters. “Is it true that Amber intends to turn everyone in the world into mice?” one reporter cried. Before Ben could deny the accusation, another woman said, “Is it true that Amber has fleas?” A third shouted at Ben, “Do you and Amber really want to get married?”
Ben was about to answer some questions when his dad shouted, “Ben will hold a press conference with the first reporter who hands him a suitcase with one million dollars in it!”
Then he slammed the door. Butch stood for a moment, grinning. “That ought to hold them for a while!” He set the huge gift basket on the floor. Inside was an assortment of cheeses, breads, and fruit juices—all covered with cellophane in the colors of the American flag. A Mylar-covered helium balloon was tied onto the bag and hovered overhead. On one side of the balloon was the gold-colored seal of the president of the United States. On the other side of the balloon was a picture of a CIA agent holding a smoking gun next to his face, sort of like a James Bond poster. Underneath the picture was the slogan, “Your friendly neighborhood CIA!”
Someone rang the doorbell. Butch rolled his eyes and said, “Now what?”
Butch opened the door a crack.
Ben could see the CIA agents slithering back up the ropes into their helicopter. Four reporters stood at the door, each fighting to shove his or her own suitcase through first. “I’ve got dibs!” one announcer from 60 Minutes shouted.
Butch grinned at Ben and opened the door just wide enough so that the reporters could push their suitcases in.
“Ben,” his dad said, “go tell your mouse friends to start packing their bags. We’re going to Disneyland!”
Chapter 6
THE MILLIONAIRE MOUSE CLUB
Those who say that money can’t buy happiness probably didn’t spend enough to really find out.
—BUTCH RAVENSPELL
Amber could not help but feel fretful that morning as the mice prepared for their trip.
In part, it was because she was a mouse. Life is dangerous when you’re down at the bottom of the food chain, and she was always worried about something.
They were going to Disneyland, a “playground” that Ben assured her would be lots of fun. She imagined that maybe the humans would have some huge wheel that they could all run around on, or maybe some large plastic tubes to run through, like the fancy toys that the spotted mice used to play with at the pet shop, but Ben assured her, “It’s a lot cooler than that. There are really neat rides to go on—like roller coasters and space rides!”
But even though they were supposedly going to have fun, the true reason for the trip weighed heavily on Amber’s mind. The black lotus had bloomed, and a great enemy was rising somewhere in the world.
“Shouldn’t we do something about it?” Amber asked Lady Blackpool over breakfast. “I mean, shouldn’t we go look into the eyes of a newt, or cast a spell at a magic pool, or do something—just to find out what kind of monster we’re up against?”
The mice were up on the table, eating bread and cheese from a basket. Ben himself was sitting in the front room, being interviewed by some famous morning talk-show host. Bright lights were shining on him, and camera crews took up most of the room.
Huge humans were tromping all over the place. The front room was no place for a mouse.
Lady Blackpool had her own breakfast. Ben’s mom had given her a little lunchmeat to nibble on. She looked up with her mouth full of pickle loaf. “Just because you need to know something doesn’t mean that you have to cast a spell every time. You need to learn to conserve your magical energy, young lady. Years ago, I cast one spell to handle the problem. Now, every time I need vital information, someone tells me.”
“Who tells you?” Amber asked.
“Whoever happens to know,” Lady Blackpool said. “They just feel a strange impulse to come and talk to me—the way Rufus Flycatcher did when he told me to come find you.”
“Oh,” Amber said, still worried. “So someone will come tell us who our enemy is?”
“Yes,” Lady Blackpool said, her mouth full.
“When?” Amber asked.
“When I need to know,” Lady Blackpool said. “So you see, the problem has been solved. One little wish made long ago, and I don’t have to go running around hunting for newts or asking spiders to send messages over the worldwide web.”
Amber was just beginning to realize that there were all kinds of ways to communicate. Sure, she could look into a newt’s eye in order to see a vision of the future, or she could ask a spider to send a message. But Ben had told her that humans had a web, too, and television and telephones.
Amber sat nibbling on a bit of rye bread for a moment. A reporter was interviewing Ben, and Amber’s ears perked up.
“So, Ben,” the woman asked, “tell me, what’s the best part of being a mouse?”
“Uh, I don’t know,” Ben said.
“Well, do you like the food?”
Ben shook his head sadly. “Not really. There’s nothing much to eat but grain and stuff. It’s like eating granola all the time. And, the worst part is, other animals are always trying to eat you!”
“But there must be something fun about being a mouse?”
“Well, I can jump so high that I feel like Superman,” Ben said.
“Are you angry that Amber turned you into a mouse?”
“I was at first,” Ben said, “but she didn’t do it on purpose. I was trying to feed her to a friend’s lizard, and . . . and it just sort of happened. It’s not like she’s evil or anything. She’s not like Nightwing the Bat, or the Wizard of Ooze!”
“I understand that you’ve had some grand adventures,” the reporter said. “We’ll come back to those later.
“Right now I have another question: do you look forward to the day when you’re human again?”
Amber sat with bated breath. She wanted Ben to say no. She wanted him to stay with her forever. It wasn’t just that he was the handsomest mouse she’d ever seen. Without him, she’d be almost powerless. She needed Ben to stay with her. The world needed Ben to stay with her if she was going to fight the Ever Shade. Surely he had to see that!
But Ben answered, “Oh, man, I can hardly wait to be human again! I mean, there’s all kinds of things that I want to do: ride my skateboard, go to the mall . . .”
Amber’s heart broke. Certainly there had to be things he liked about being a mouse.
“Are you worried about how things might change once you turn back into a human?” the reporter asked.
“Yeah,” Ben said. “Mice grow old fast. Every week for a mouse is like a year to a human. So I figure that when I turn back into a boy, I’m going to look two years older. I’ll look like a twelve-year-old. I might even have hair under my armpits!”
The reporter chuckled. “I wasn’t thinking about that; I was thinking about the fame. You’ll be famous now—the most famous boy in the world. You won’t be able to go outside without drawing a crowd.”
“Yeah, I guess I am kinda worried about that,” Ben admitted.
Then the topic turned to Nightwing the Bat, and Amber quit listening. She hopped about in the gift basket, searching for something new to eat.
The cheeses came in several different colors and varieties. Amber enjoyed tasting the exotic flavors. But as she peered in, she noticed something strange. There was a very small red thing in the basket, just the right size for her paw. She recognized it immediately. Ben’s dad had been using one earlier. It was a telephone. But this one was tiny—just the right size for a mouse.
She picked it up and studied it. Ben’s phone had lots of buttons on it. This had only one. She pushed the button, just the way Butch had done.
“Hel-looooo,” a human crooned sweetly. “Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?”
Amber stood for a moment, feeling both excited and rather baffled. She’d never had her own phone before. She wasn’t quite sure how to use it.
“Uh, this is Amber, uh, the wizard . . . uh, mouse. I mean the mouse wizard.”
“Good morning, Amber,” the voice said. “It’s so nice to hear from you. I hope you’re enjoying my little gift basket.”
“Oh, it’s really nice!” Amber enthused. “There’s all kinds of yummy cheese!”
“American cheese,” the fellow corrected. “So, Amber, there’s something I’ve been wondering. Are you a Republican,” he said sweetly, “or a Democrat?”
“I’m a mouse—” she said, feeling rather baffled, “a feeder mouse!”
There was a long pause.
“What’s a feeder mouse?” the man asked, a bit perplexed.
“A mouse that’s raised in pet shops,” Amber said, “so that kids can feed them to their snakes and lizards.”
“Well,” the fellow said, “we’ll put an end to that. The president is pushing a bill through this morning, calling for an end to such . . . such barbarism!”
That sounded good to Amber. “Okay. Who are you?”
The fellow hesitated then answered, “Let’s just say that I’m a friend . . . a very powerful and influential friend. That’s what I do in life. I make friends . . . with other powerful people.” He halted a moment, as if to let Amber ponder what that might mean.
“Actually,” the man went on, “you could be a big help to us. You see, we’re going to need an emissary . . . someone on the payroll . . . an ambassador. This mouse would sort of help our beloved country develop official diplomatic ties to mousedom. Would you be willing to help?”
Amber was all for saving mice. “Okay.”
“Great! Wonderful!” the fellow said, evidently very pleased. “We’ll announce the appointment today. We need to talk about a salary, of course.”
“Celery?” Amber asked. Ben’s mom had given her a piece last night. It had an interesting taste.
“A salary,” the man corrected. “You know, money?”
Amber had heard all about money, of course. Ben’s mom and dad were collecting suitcases full of it. Already they had four, each with one million dollars in it. That’s why Ben had to do the interviews. Apparently, humans had to work for money, and Ben was working. Amber was delighted to learn that she might get a suitcase full of money, too. Ben told her that she could trade money for all kinds of things—pizza, vegetables, houses.
“Oh,” Amber cried in delight. “Do I get a million dollars?!”
The fellow sort of coughed. “Well, uh, if that’s what you want . . .”
“Yes, please, in a pretty suitcase—with . . . with flowers on it!”
The man was silent for a moment. “I suppose, uh, that you’ll want this under the table?”
Amber looked down from the table. She figured that one of those big suitcases was going to be awfully hard to move, and she certainly didn’t want it way up here on the table. “Yes, under the table would be perfect!”
“One last thing,” the man said. “I understand that you’ve created a sort of a haven for mice out there in Oregon, a place where they can live in safety and freedom. Have you considered what you will call it?”
“Yes,” Amber said happily. “Meadowsweet picked out a name for it just a while ago. We’re going to call it ‘Mouse-atopia!’”
“Wonderful!” the fellow said in a smiling voice. “I like that name. Well, I’m sure that you’ll be in touch. Feel free to call me anytime.”
He hung up, and Amber sat there for a long minute. The phone began to make a buzzing noise, and she asked, “Are you still there? What’s that noise?” But the fellow didn’t answer.
Ben had just finished with his interview, so Amber went to him. She didn’t have anything to say. She just wanted to be with him. In the past two weeks, he’d become her best friend. She hated the thought that he might leave her soon.
Ben was sweating dangerously when she found him. Mice cannot cope with heat very well, and the harsh lights from the camera had left Ben shivering. Water droplets filled his fur, and he was preening in vain, trying to get rid of them lest he catch a chill.
Amber stayed with him for a long moment, to make sure he would be all right. She said nothing, just sat gazing at him steadily.
He finished preening and studied her in silence for a minute.
“I’ll miss you when I go to S.W.A.R.M.,” Amber said at last. “Somehow, it won’t feel right without you.”
Ben didn’t speak for a moment. “I’m sorry that I can’t go with you.”
“Can’t go or won’t?” Amber demanded.
“I kept my part of the bargain,” Ben said. “I helped save all of the mice in the world—more than you ever imagined.”
Amber looked for an argument that might change his mind, and she found one easily enough. “But that was before we knew about the Ever Shade! Now everything is changed. Now it isn’t just the mice that need saving—it’s the whole world. It’s mice and bears and people, too. Your mom and dad might need saving—even you!”
“I know that,” Ben said. “Don’t you think I know that? I’ve been thinking about that all night.”
“You don’t like me, is that it?” Amber demanded.
Ben hesitated. “I like you, Amber,” he said at last. “I’ve always liked you. I just don’t like being a mouse.”
Ben crept close to her, looked into her eyes, and reached up with one paw. He petted her face, bringing his paw down from her ear and along her cheek bone. “I really do like you, Amber.”
She’d never enjoyed the touch of another mouse so much, and she sat for a moment, just weeping. Ben thought that she wept in relief because he liked her, but Amber wept because she knew that she had to go away, and she would have to go without him.
* * *
Sixty minutes later, a man came to the door with a gift for Amber—a suitcase with flowers on it!
Amber was disappointed when Ben’s dad popped open the suitcases filled with money. Amber hadn’t really had any idea what money would look like. It was just a bunch of scraps of paper, all stacked nicely, but all with pictures of the same dead guy on them.
“So, uh, what’s so neat about money again?” Amber asked.
“Everything!” Butch confirmed. “You can buy things with it. You can buy pizzas and houses. You can travel the world! Now, where did you get this again?”
“Can you buy mice?” Amber asked. A worry had been nagging her ever since last night. Some people in the world were all for freeing the mice. Other folks were against the idea.
“Of course you can, dear,” Ben’s mom answered. The whole family was hovering around the suitcases, staring at the money, along with Amber’s friends.
“How many could we buy?” Amber asked.
“Well,” Ben’s mom admitted, “I paid half a dollar for you. At that price, we could buy two million mice with each suitcase.”
“Wow!” Ben said. “That’s a lot of mice!”
Ben’s mom, Mona, nodded, and her eyes kind of misted over. “Then I think that’s what we should do with this money,” she said. She leaned over and clicked the suitcases shut.
Amber hadn’t known what to think of Mona. Amber had never imagined actually liking a human before, or having one as a friend. Mona had once sucked Amber up with a vac
uum cleaner and thrown her in the garbage can.
But at that instant everything changed. Amber’s heart pounded as it broke.
She’s giving me millions of dollars, Amber realized. She’s giving freedom to my people.
“You’re going to help the mice?” Amber asked in surprise, just to make sure that she’d heard correctly.
Ben’s mom nodded. “I think that it’s the least I can do.”
Amber tried to figure out what she meant. The least she could do would have been nothing. She was doing a lot more than that.
Tears of gratitude filled Amber’s eyes. For the second time that day, she found herself feeling weepy over some human.
“I want to thank you for bringing my son back to me,” Mona explained. “You don’t know how much it hurts to lose someone forever, and you don’t know how happy I feel knowing that he’s alive.”
Amber knew what it felt like to lose someone. She had lost her mother in the pet shop. Amber’s mom was a feeder mouse, the lowest kind of mouse, the kind that children bought to feed to snakes and lizards. Reason told Amber that her mother was gone forever.
But Amber had to hope that, like Barley Beard, her mother had been purchased by some children who wanted a pet. Maybe like Barley Beard, Amber’s mom would escape—or better yet, her captors would set her free.
Amber knew in some small part how Ben’s mom must feel right now. Mona Ravenspell had lost her son, and Amber had brought him back to her.
Ben’s mom leaned down on the floor and tenderly stroked Amber’s back. Then Mona kissed Amber on the snout.
Amber felt astonished by this sign of affection from someone who had once been an enemy. Mona Ravenspell—freeing the mice.
Amber decided that she liked Mona. She felt genuinely grateful. But Amber could not afford to like her too much.
She thinks I’m going to turn Ben back into a human soon, Amber realized. She thinks we’ll be friends.
I hate having to break her heart!
Chapter 7
Ravenspell Book 3: Freaky Fly Day Page 4
