The Monster's Ring

by Bruce Coville

  It ought to keep him safe for the rest of his life.

  If he ever got to be Russell again!

  He became aware that Eddie was talking. “. . . so thanks for saving me from those guys.”

  “It was nothing. I just didn’t like their style.” Trying to sound casual, he added, “But as long as you appreciated it, there is something you could do to help me in return.”

  “Sure,” said Eddie quickly. “Anything.”

  “There’s something I need in my room. It’s not easy for me to get it until I change back. So I want you to get it for me.”

  “No problem,” said Eddie. “Just tell me how to get in.”

  “I’ll fly you there.”

  Eddie blanched.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Russell dryly. “You’re not chicken, are you? Bawk ba bawk ba bawk.”

  “No! It’s just that . . . No, I’m not afraid. Let’s go.”

  “Okay,” said Russell.

  He stepped forward. Eddie cowered back again.

  “If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it already,” said Russell. “Now turn around.”

  Eddie did as he was told. Russell hooked his powerful hands under Eddie’s arms, flapped his wings, and lifted into the air.

  “Wow!” said Eddie. “This is great. How did you get like this, anyway?”

  “None of your business!” snapped Russell.

  “Sorry,” said Eddie meekly.

  When they reached the house, Russell coasted to the window and put Eddie on the sill.

  “Now listen,” he hissed. “In the middle drawer of that dresser there’s a small white envelope. Get it for me.”

  The fierce insistence in his voice was all the motivation Eddie needed. He scrambled through the window, then scooted to the dresser and pulled open the drawer.

  He turned back to the window, a puzzled expression on his face. “Why does your underwear say Tuesday on it?”

  “Never mind that!” snapped Russell. “Just get the envelope. Fast!”

  Socks and underwear flew in all directions as Eddie scrabbled through the drawer in search of the envelope.

  “I don’t see it,” he whispered.

  Russell snarled dangerously. “Keep looking!”

  Eddie redoubled his efforts. As he did, they heard the sound of footsteps in the hall.

  Eddie’s head whipped around. “Someone’s coming!”

  “Keep looking!” ordered Russell again. “I have to have that envelope!”

  Eddie was wild with fear, a far different fear than he had shown at the sight of Russell. “If I get caught here, I’ll be arrested!”

  “LOOK!” roared Russell.

  Eddie scooped out the last contents of the drawer, then jumped up in triumph. “Got it!” he shouted, waving the envelope.

  The doorknob rattled.

  “Jump!” ordered Russell.

  Eddie sprinted for the window and dove through headfirst.

  TWELVE

  Return to the Magic Shop

  For a sickening instant, Russell was not certain he could catch Eddie. But his powerful arms did the job almost instinctively. Snatching him up in midfall, Russell soared into the sky, Eddie dangling and gasping below him.

  “Good grief!” panted Eddie.

  “Good job,” said Russell. “I’ll remember it.”

  Mr. Crannaker stuck his head out the window, craning his neck as he scanned the ground to catch sight of whoever had just been in the room.

  As Russell expected, it never occurred to his dad to look up.

  When he had flown far enough from the house, he said to Eddie, “Where do you want me to drop you off?”

  “Home will be fine,” said Eddie weakly.

  Russell felt a pang at the words, since he wanted nothing more than to go home himself.

  “You’ll have to tell me the way,” he said, realizing that he had no idea where Eddie lived.

  “It’s the west side of town—across the river.”

  They flew over the sparkling silver water, so high above it they could scarcely hear the sound of the little falls by the old paper mill.

  Following Eddie’s directions, Russell landed in a vacant lot.

  “My house is over that way,” said Eddie. “I’ll walk from here.”

  Russell had no idea which house it was, but he realized that all the houses here were small and shabby.

  “Well, I guess this is it,” said Eddie. “Thanks again for saving me from those guys.”

  “Not a problem,” said Russell. “Thanks for getting that envelope for me.”

  He held out his scaly hand. Eddie passed him the envelope. Russell took it delicately between his claws. He tried to slip it into his pocket, then remembered that he didn’t have one. He tucked it under his arm, instead, then held out his hand again.

  Eddie looked at it for a moment, then put out his own hand to shake. “Well, see you in school,” he said. He turned to go, then turned back and said, “Sorry about all that . . . well, you know. But we’re square now, right?”

  “We’re square,” said Russell.

  Eddie nodded, and seemed to relax just a bit. Then he turned and walked away.

  Russell watched him go, feeling confident that his troubles with Eddie were finally over.

  On the other hand, Eddie was the least of his worries now.

  He took to the sky again, looking for a place where he could think without interruption—without danger of being seen.

  Finally he landed on the flat, empty roof of the high school, which was ringed by a low wall about eight inches high.

  The bonfire had been extinguished. The crowd had vanished. The night was quiet, save for the sound of the rising wind. The silvery light shifted and changed as the moon went in and out of hiding among the clouds.

  Russell stared at the envelope, almost afraid to open it. He was more and more troubled by the memory of one line in the instructions: “Twist it thrice? No one has dared!”

  Had that been a challenge, as he had believed—or a warning?

  His heart turned cold at the thought.

  With trembling fingers, he extracted the crumpled paper. Unfolding it was not easy—claws were not made for this kind of work. But when he finally held it open, the moonlight, shining over his shoulder, struck another line that he had ignored, one vitally important instruction he hadn’t even considered in his rush to save Eddie from the teenagers.

  “Use with caution, and never on the night of a full moon.”

  He looked over his shoulder.

  Hanging in the sky above him was the silver circle of the moon—fuller, it now seemed, than he had ever seen it before.

  Never on the night of a full moon.

  With a dead thump of certainty, he realized that he had made the ghastliest mistake of his life—three twists of a magic ring on the night of a great full moon.

  He was ruined. There was no way out—no way to become plain old Russell Crannaker again.

  Now that he thought about it, being plain old Russell Crannaker wasn’t all that bad. He had a good home and loving parents. He had some friends. He did well in school. He had a teacher he enjoyed.

  And it was gone, all gone, because he had been fool enough to use the ring—and use it to excess—on the night of a full moon.

  Fool moon, they should call it.

  “I’m the fool!” cried Russell, shaking his fists at the sky.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” replied a tiny but familiar voice.

  He looked down.

  The two rats he had met in the alley were standing on the edge of the low wall.

  “How did you get here?” he cried.

  “It wasn’t easy,” said Roxanne. “We’ve been chasing you all over town.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” asked Jerome in astonishment. “How about, you did something so stupid no one can believe it?”

  “Oh, stop, Jerome,” said Roxanne. “The boy doesn’t need you to tell him how foolish
he was. He’s figured that much out on his own.”

  “Just trying to clarify the situation,” muttered Jerome.

  “If you want to clarify things, tell me how to turn back!” growled Russell.

  “What do we look like?” asked Jerome. “Magicians?”

  “Did you come here just to torment me?” asked Russell bitterly.

  “To advise you,” said Roxanne gently.

  “What’s your advice?” asked Russell, trying to keep his temper from erupting again.

  “That you should get some help,” said Jerome.

  “That doesn’t take a genius,” said Russell. “But where am I going to get it?”

  “Where did you get the ring?” countered Roxanne.

  “At the magic shop. But I already tried to find it again, and you two told me to stop looking for it.”

  “That was before you got yourself into this mess,” said Roxanne.

  “Which really took some first-class boneheadery,” added Jerome with a chuckle.

  Roxanne poked him in the ribs. “Oh, be quiet, Jerome.”

  “Look, just tell me how to find the shop,” pleaded Russell.

  Roxanne shook her head. “Think, Russell. What can you do now that you couldn’t do the last time you looked for the shop?”

  Russell considered for a moment. Then the answer hit him. “I can fly!” he cried. “Maybe I can spot it from above!” He climbed onto the edge of the roof, then turned back to thank the rats.

  They were nowhere in sight.

  Shaking his head, Russell stretched his wings and leaped into the night air.

  For the next hour, he flew back and forth above Kennituck Falls, searching desperately for any sign of the shop. Time and again he returned to the alley where he had played at being Frankenstein’s monster. He would start above the place where Eddie had slipped on the garbage and try to retrace his route. The first five or six times he failed, lost the track. Then, just when his despair was deepest, he flew into a patch of fog.

  When he came out the other side, he saw the street of little shops. And at the end of the street . . . There it was: the magic shop!

  Russell landed in front of the shop, filled with a sense of relief.

  He glanced stealthily up and down the street.

  Deserted.

  What time was it, anyway? His parents must be out of their minds with worry. But what could he do? Walk in and say, “Hi, Mom! Hi, Dad! It’s me—Russell. What happened to my skin? Oh, I made a little mistake with this magic ring I’ve been messing around with, and I’m going to be a monster from now on. You don’t mind, do you?”

  He realized, for good and all, that if he could not reverse this change, he would never see home and parents again. A sob forced its way through his monsterish throat, a sound it had never been formed to make.

  He pounded on the door. A light went on in the back of the shop. Russell glanced around, afraid his racket would rouse someone else, too.

  The empty street emboldened him.

  “Let me in!” he shouted, pounding on the door with both fists now. “Let me in!”

  “I’m coming,” called a familiar voice, sounding deeply cranky. “I’m coming. Pipe down.”

  Russell peered through the window. The old man who had sold him the ring was shuffling toward the door, carrying an old-fashioned candleholder. He wore a ratty-looking bathrobe, covered with moons and stars, and tattered carpet slippers that kept sliding off his heels.

  The door snapped open. “What are you trying to do, raise the dead? There’s enough of them up and around already tonight!”

  The old man paused as his eyes focused on Russell. Quickly he grabbed the monster’s arm and pulled him into the shop.

  Then he slammed the door behind him.

  “So it’s you,” he said, with just a hint of smugness in his voice. “I’ve been expecting you.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, come, come. You hardly struck me as being the careful type when I sold you that ring. Hardly the type to pay attention to . . . vital instructions?”

  Russell, the beast of a thousand nightmares, looked at the floor in shame.

  “Well,” said Mr. Elives sharply, “what have you come for?”

  Russell looked up in astonishment. “I want you to help me.”

  Mr. Elives flung up his hands in disgust. “I sold you the ring, didn’t I? What more do you want?”

  “I want to change back!”

  “That’s hardly my concern. I included very specific directions with that ring. I even sent a pair of messengers to remind you to read them carefully. The terms were very clear: Never use the ring on the night of a full moon. You can read, can’t you?”

  “Yes, of course, but—”

  “But, but, but! Directions are directions. You follow them or you don’t. What you choose to do with a thing once I sell it to you is none of my concern. If you can’t be responsible for your actions, you can hardly expect me to take responsibility for them.”

  “But—”

  “And furthermore, it is highly inconsiderate to come to my shop at this hour and rouse me out of a sound sleep. I work hard all day, and I don’t need some fool who can’t follow directions coming around in the middle of the night to disturb my rest.”

  Russell knew that if his monster self could cry, he would be crying by now. But he wouldn’t be ashamed of it this time. He had been wrong, really wrong.

  He said the only thing he could think of.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Well, in that case,” said Mr. Elives, “sit down for a minute. We’ll talk.” He motioned to a chair. Russell cleared away a top hat and a string of silk scarves and sat down, his wings spread on either side of the chair.

  “You cast a nice shadow,” said Mr. Elives approvingly.

  Russell looked around at the peaked and pointed shadow made by his wings. “I’d just as soon get rid of it,” he said softly.

  “I’m well aware of that. Now, tell me. How many times have you used the ring?”

  “Three.”

  “One twist, then two, and finally three?”

  Russell nodded.

  The old man scratched his chin. “Most people are bright enough to stop at two.”

  Russell blushed, but it was hidden by his flame red cheeks.

  “And on the night of a full moon.” Mr. Elives shook his head and sighed. “Well,” he said at last, “you’ll have to stay in that shape for a while.”

  Russell looked up with sudden hope. “A while?”

  Mr. Elives nodded. “With a ring like that, there’s no way the counterspell can take effect on the night of a full moon. She has powers of her own, you know. But things may be different tomorrow. Time has a way of doing that.”

  “Of doing what?”

  “Of changing things,” said the old man. “Of course, not all change is for the better.” He shrugged. “You’ll just have to wait and see. Now, if you’d like to spend the rest of the night here, you can sleep in that chair.”

  “Thank you,” said Russell. He hesitated, then said, “Do you have a phone I can use?”

  The old man looked at him in astonishment. “What kind of a place do you think this is?” he demanded indignantly.

  “But I need to call my parents. What am I going to tell them?”

  “Tell them anything you want! I can’t solve all your problems for you!” He paused, then added, “And don’t come running back to me if there are any aftereffects, either.”

  Russell looked up, about to ask what he meant. But the man had turned and was heading toward the curtain that covered the door behind the counter.

  Russell sighed and leaned back in the chair.

  He would deal with all that when he came to it.

  Right now he only wanted to sleep.

  THIRTEEN

  Home Run

  Russell woke with a start.

  The cold gray light of morning was leaking through the window.

  He looked down at his bo
dy. His body! He had it back. He was himself again!

  He let out a whoop of joy.

  “Be quiet!” yelled Mr. Elives from the back of the shop. “I’m trying to sleep!”

  Russell held in his excitement. But it wasn’t easy. He wanted to sing—shout—dance. He was Russell Crannaker, fifth-grade boy, and Russell-the-monster was gone, gone, gone.

  Then he realized he had a new problem.

  His clothes had been burned off during his transformation the night before.

  He was stark naked!

  Now what was he going to do?

  He sat for a moment, pondering the question. Finally, gathering his courage, he stepped behind the counter and went to the curtain.

  He noticed the owl that sat on the cash register looking at him.

  “Mind your own business,” he whispered, feeling himself blush. Ignoring the bird, he pulled aside the curtain and said softly, “Mr. Elives, I need to talk to you.”

  “Go away!”

  “But I need your help.”

  “Go away. I’ve helped you enough!”

  “But I don’t have any clothes.”

  “That’s hardly my fault.”

  “But how can I get home?”

  “Walk!”

  “I can’t do that!”

  “Young man, if you do not leave my shop soon, I will show you a blast of magic that will make that silly ring I sold you seem like the toy it was. Now go!” Russell stepped away from the curtains.

  He was naked. How could he go home?

  On the other hand, how could he stay here?

  He thought it over. Considering how much trouble he was in already, being naked when he got home wasn’t going to make that much difference.

  But when he reached the door, he couldn’t force himself to open it. The idea that had almost made sense thirty seconds ago now seemed insane.

  He tried to convince himself.

  It was Sunday morning. It was only about six o’clock, and the light was still dim. Hardly anyone would be up at this hour.

  Besides, the bare fact was, there was nothing else he could do. He had to make a run for it.

  At last his hand obeyed his orders.

  He reached out, opened the door, and slipped through.