From all sides, Timothy heard a great rustling of leaves, almost as if the trees were applauding. He bent over and buried his face in Gwydon’s fur. He felt no fear of the great wolf now, only a deep trust. Timothy turned the glowing leaf over and over in his hands and ventured a shy smile at Jessica, and was pleased when she returned it. All the while, Jessica had been changing. Somehow, even though the dirt, the mud, and the scratches were still there, Jessica glowed. She looked like a princess dressed as a peasant. But later neither Timothy nor Sarah could ever say why. Jewel, Timothy thought, fifteen points with only five letters. He shook his head and tried to focus. Sarah gave him a hug, and his stomach rumbled. How long had it been since he’d eaten?
“There is still much to say, but now you must return to your own time.” Gwydon limped over and stood by Timothy’s feet. “He’s ready to take you two home. Herne and his hunt have passed; you will be safe.” Cerridwyn spoke to Timothy and Sarah, but she looked at her great-niece.
“But what about”—and here Timothy’s voice became thin—“Balor? He’s still alive!”
“Did you really think you could defeat evil in one night?” Cerridwyn smiled. “You, great-niece, will travel with me, for there are things we need to talk about.” And Jessica blushed with pleasure and looked remorseful all at once.
Then the Greenman bent low over Gwydon, so low that his leaves brushed the wolf’s legs. And when he straightened, Gwydon was able to rest all four paws soundly on the ground.
Timothy climbed onto Gwydon’s broad back. The fur was dry now, and softer than anything he had ever felt. Sarah climbed on behind. In one agile leap and without time to say good-bye, they were in the air. Timothy looked around for Electra, Star Girl, who had been quietly observing all that happened. She was sitting on a branch of an elm, and he thought he could hear her singing.
By using the key provided here, you can decipher the Ogham script that appears in this chapter. Zoom in or increase font size to see code more clearly.
WOLFPROOF
HE NIGHT BLAZED with stars, more than he had ever seen from town; some red, some green, but most a dazzling white. Timothy imagined each one as a person, like Electra, watching over his world.
From Gwydon’s back he watched the trees below make way for roads and the outlines of houses, shining rectangles of light in the night. Sarah rode behind him with her arms around his waist, her head resting on his shoulder. They had been gone so long; how would they explain everything to their parents? He pictured their father phoning the police to report his children missing; his mother standing on the porch calling their names. Had they been gone for days? Time out of time. So many things had happened, too much for one night. He thought of asking Sarah, but by her deep and regular breathing, he knew she was asleep, and he didn’t want to wake her. And in the back of his mind, there was another worry. Balor. Just thinking his name made Timothy’s heart pound and his hands sweat.
As the roads became familiar, Gwydon ran lower in the sky, just above the treetops. Signs of the storm were everywhere. Small branches and thick limbs littered roads and yards. A fence was blown over, and stray shingles punctuated lawns. Then Timothy’s own house was below him. No one waited on the front porch. The only lights burning were in the living room, where he and Sarah had opened the door to the storm so long ago.
Gwydon landed in the front yard just beyond the birch trees, his front legs touching down first, followed by his strong haunches. The landing jarred Sarah awake, and she squealed at the sight of their home. Timothy reluctantly slid off the big wolf’s back. He remembered sitting on the roof with Sarah and wishing to be wolfproof. Gwydon shook his massive head, with jaws that could break a human femur in a single bite. Timothy looked into the wolf’s golden eyes, and reached out to stroke the soft fur, but Gwydon backed away. He was not a pet, and with a long, backward look, he was off at a trot into the trees.
Sarah was already on the porch, cautiously peeking inside the front door. “It’s only a little after midnight!” Sarah said. Timothy wondered which midnight it was. Was it still May 1? The headlights of a car swung into the driveway. His mother and father climbed out, looking pale and tense. His father was talking rapidly into his cell phone. His mother came over to them, and smiled brightly. But it was a fake smile. Timothy could tell.
“I’m sorry we’re so late, but what are you two doing up? You should have been in bed an hour ago!” Her voice strained to sound cheery. Then all her brightness crumpled. “Oh, something very sad has happened. On the way home, your father and I passed an accident. Mrs. Clapper …” And here her voice faltered. “Mrs. Clapper was out walking her dog in the storm, and she was hit by a car. Your father stopped when he recognized the dog. It was just a few blocks from here.”
“What happened to her?” Sarah asked.
“Oh, baby, she didn’t make it. I’m so sorry.”
Timothy gasped as if the air had been squeezed from his lungs. His eyes prickled with tears. He looked up at the sky where the canopy of stars still winked. Hadn’t Cerridwyn said they would see her again in another form? He inhaled deeply. The old Clapper was gone, but not Cerridwyn. He was sure of it. He’d miss the Mrs. Clapper he’d known for so many years, and he would miss her stories.
At his side, Sarah cried inconsolably, all the tiredness, strangeness, and sadness pouring out at once. In the distance, geese called in flight. Timothy and his father looked up. Then his father slung an arm around Sarah, and together they walked into the house.
“What happened to your face, Timothy?” His mother gently stroked the scratches.
Prank meowed and rubbed against his leg. Timothy sighed with relief. “Tree branches. I couldn’t find Prank in the storm.” At least it wasn’t a complete lie, he thought.
Pleading exhaustion, Timothy hurried off to bed as soon as he could. He lay awake, wondering about time and how it worked. Was Jessica safe, home in her bed? And what did Cerridwyn say to her? He thought about the Greenman’s words to Sarah as he gave her the heart of a tree, “for the adventures to come.” He pulled the leaf out from under his pillow. It was still a clear blue. He curled his hand around its smooth surface. Awesome, he thought, worth twelve points.
WATCHMEN
CTOBER.
Timothy sat in the hammock suspended between the Carolina poplar trees and chewed on the end of his mechanical pencil. The days were ending earlier now; soon it would be dusk. Digging his hand in his jacket pocket, he palmed the small glass leaf and drew it out. Just as he expected, a cool, clear blue.
For six long months he had waited, expecting something—anything—to happen. For six months he had carried the leaf with him every day. It never changed. Only he had changed. Last spring’s adventure had complicated—Timothy mentally deleted the word—no, terminated any hopes of ever feeling normal again. If it hadn’t been for Sarah and Jessica, he would have been tempted to discount the entire adventure as a dream, but every day Sarah reminded him of the Greenman’s words, “for the adventures to come.” But no adventures had come. Summer passed to autumn and a new school year.
What did remain complicated was his relationship with Jessica. They were friends outside of school, but Jessica was still in another social group entirely. He looked in the old notebook open on his lap at the list he had made two years ago, after his first week in middle school. “Ways to Be Normal”:
1. Pretend you don’t know the answer.
2. Never run between classes with your backpack on, even if it is the most efficient way to get somewhere.
The list filled two pages, and now he added one last rule: Never let it slip that you once rode a wolf through the sky in the middle of the night. Timothy sighed. Blending in took a whole lot of work, and he was still failing miserably. If only he could learn to keep his mouth shut when he knew the answers at school and pretend that he was interested in sports as much as science. He shoved the leaf back in his pocket.
He shivered. The air was sharp with the promise of frost. Hal
loween was just a few days away. Closing his notebook, he swung both legs over the side of the hammock. Time to take it down for the year. The sound of something very large flapping right over his head made him duck. It was as if someone were shaking out a very large sheet. Instinctively, he threw his arms up to cover his head as a dark bird with a wingspan of at least six feet swept onto a high branch of one of the old trees. The bird’s head glowed white.
A bald eagle, right here in his yard!
Before he completed the thought, another eagle wheeled in to roost on a dead branch in the same tree. One eagle was unusual enough, Timothy knew, but two roosting together? Eagles were solitary birds, preferring to hunt and roost alone.
Moving quietly now, Timothy crossed the porch and slipped through the front door, being careful not to let it slam.
“Eagles in the yard!” he cried as he ran into the kitchen. “Two of them!”
“Are you sure?” Peering at him over his newspaper, Timothy’s father looked doubtful, but his mother was already groping through a cupboard for the binoculars. Sarah was out the front door in an instant, Timothy right behind.
Their parents followed. Sure enough, two dark blobs, very large blobs, hunched in the treetop right above the porch.
“I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it,” Timothy’s father said. “We’ve never had eagles before.”
“I think one is a juvenile.” Timothy’s mother handed her son the binoculars. “His head is still dark. Maybe we can get a better view from the upstairs window.” His parents returned to the warmth of the house.
It was hard to get a good look at the eagles. Timothy was standing right underneath them, and, through the binocular lenses, the birds were just dark shapes. He backed out from the under the tree. Something hot pressed against his side. Timothy shoved his hand into the pocket. It bumped against the glass leaf. It was almost too hot to touch! Gingerly, he drew it out. The leaf glowed bright red.
“Sarah!” He held the leaf in his open palm.
She poked the leaf with her finger and quickly drew back. “It’s hot! Finally!”
They locked eyes. Timothy did a quick scan of the yard. Nothing. Now that something was happening, he didn’t know what to expect.
“What does it mean?” Sarah looked up at the dark shapes hunched in the tree.
Timothy shook his head. “I don’t know what it means, but I know it’s a warning.”
“Do you think it has anything to do with the eagles?” Sarah lowered her voice as if they might hear her. “They look like watchmen,” she muttered into his ear. “Maybe they’re watching our house.”
The thought made him nervous. Dusk was coming quickly. Already it was growing difficult to see the eagles. As the dark crept in, the name Balor of the One Eye crept into his mind. “Watchmen? If you’re right, I hope the birds are on our side.” He dropped the hot leaf back into his pocket. The problem is, he thought, I have absolutely no idea what the warning means.
Is he the one?
Andor’s question arrived black and spare in Arkell’s mind, for eagles shared an economy of words. Speech was seldom necessary during long, solitary days of hunting.
Yes. The smallest one and all that is his. Arkell lowered his great wings. The shadows of the two eagles were a mere thickening in the growing darkness as they hunched in high branches of the Carolina poplar.
Arkell lifted his white head and sensed the wind. It was blowing from the east and carried the first scent of frost. He needed to convey the urgency of their mission to Andor, but the words were difficult to form after days of silence. He thought of vast, lonely places in the shadow of the mountains, and of the killing cold that came with winter. He thought of harsh seasons when food was impossible to find and hunger was a constant presence. He thought of man as predator. This was the urgency he sent through the night to young Andor.
And Andor seemed to understand. He raised his head and sent a silent reply: The next few nights will be difficult. We will watch through the darkness.
Arkell settled himself on the branch, his head dropping between hunched shoulders.
Yes. Watch and wait with him. Watch and wait, and keep the Dark at bay.
There was someone else watching Timothy’s house. Star Girl saw the eagles arrive. But no one noticed her as she settled into a tree at the edge of the yard. The boy’s leaf was hot now and glowing. It was time for her to witness the events that would soon unfold. Unlike the eagles, she would offer no protection. She would merely watch and witness.
The doorbell rang for the fifth time that evening. Timothy finished off another candy bar and poured the rest of the bag of candy into the large bowl by the front door. Every year there were fewer and fewer trick-or-treaters. It was already after nine, late for little kids to be out, even if it was a Friday. Still, they had gone through only one bag of candy; three more bags were open and ready on a chair by the door.
Timothy looked at the candy with satisfaction: mostly chocolate and he’d have it all to himself, since Sarah always complained that chocolate tasted like mud. Besides, she was off at a Halloween slumber party tonight, and his parents had left him and Jessica in charge of answering the door while they watched a movie in the family room.
Timothy smiled to himself. Just six months ago, he and Jessica could never have been friends. Now they had joined forces, at least outside of school.
She came in from the kitchen with a steaming bag of popcorn in her hands as Timothy answered the door.
“Trick or treat!”
There were no princess gowns or superhero capes in this group of trick-or-treaters. In the front of the group were two boys Timothy thought he recognized; they were dressed in dark baggy clothing, their faces smeared with black smudges. A younger girl was with them, all in black with pointy cat ears and a long tail pinned to the back of her pants.
“I didn’t know you two were friends,” the girl said to Jessica.
Jessica smiled and took the bowl of treats from Timothy. “Open your bag. You’re probably the last people tonight, and we might as well get rid of all this candy.”
Timothy was about to protest, but his attention was caught by the fourth person on the porch.
Like the others, the figure was bundled in black, but his face was disguised by a rubber mask. A dark hood shaded the mask from the porch light. Most disturbing of all, Timothy couldn’t tell if the figure was male or female. At first, he thought the masked figure was part of the group, but when the others melted into the shadows, clutching their bulging bags of candy, the hooded shape lingered, a pillowcase extended like an offering.
The night grew still, without wind or noise. Timothy felt his scalp prickle. Jessica drew a deep breath behind him.
Timothy grabbed the last handful of candy from the bowl and leaned forward, deliberately dropping it piece by piece into the pillow-case so he could steal a closer look under the stranger’s hood. In the dim light, the trick-or-treater’s rubber face was gray and puffy, the nose a misshapen blob.
Above it was a dark-rimmed opening for a single eye.
Timothy jumped back and Jessica gasped.
The hooded figure took a step toward the lighted living room. A raspy hum rose like a swarm of bees from behind the mask. Something squirmed in the pillowcase.
Timothy’s mind screamed for him to shut the door, but his arms refused to obey. The figure shuffled forward, one foot raised to cross the threshold, then stopped, abruptly, as if it had run smack into an invisible barrier.
The figure shuddered and dropped the sack.
At the same moment, a large shape swooped down across the porch, followed quickly by another. The eagles! The stranger flung his arms across his face.
“Shut the door!” Jessica cried.
Finally, Timothy’s arms moved. He flung the door closed, but a moment too late: a large brown rat darted out from the pillowcase and scampered across the threshold into his house.
The eagles screamed in frustration.
&nbs
p; “What was that … that thing on the porch?” Jessica shrieked. She jumped onto the bench in the entryway, knocking over the bags of candy in her rush to escape the rat. Miniature chocolate bars and packets of gum skittered across the floor.
“You’re supposed to be the one with powers!” The mask had one eye! All he could think of was Balor! He looked at Jessica standing on the bench. “And by the way, rats can climb.” He hoped Jessica couldn’t hear how frightened he felt.
He couldn’t see the rat anywhere in the long hallway, but he was sure it was there somewhere, lurking, watching them. “The thing couldn’t come through the door! The eagles tried to stop it.”
“It might be the rowan I hung over the door.” She climbed off the bench and walked to the entrance. “I hung it there when I came in, to keep away evil, like Great-Aunt Rosemary used to do.” Jessica stood on tiptoe to touch the small cluster of leaves that hung just above the threshold. Her face was white, her hazel eyes enormous. “I wasn’t sure it would really work.”
“Then how could the rat still get in?”
“Maybe rowan only works against people.” She turned toward Timothy. “Check your leaf. I bet it’s hot!”
Timothy felt inside his sweatshirt pocket. Jessica was right; the leaf blazed. He pulled it out, and it glowed red in his open palm. “We have to find the rat before anything happens!”
“Don’t worry,” Jessica said grimly. “I think it will find us.”
Andor landed heavily on a branch; Arkell swooped in behind. Evil has entered the house.
Arkell’s words appeared in Andor’s mind, and they were dark with despair.
Beyond the Door Page 15
