Lost Places

by Carla Jablonski

  Molly made a face. “Duh. It’s just—they work! And he knows how to use them. Without having to learn.”

  “I suppose that’s because he was meant to have them,” Tim suggested.

  Crimple fluttered around Tim’s and Molly’s heads. “Flying is splendiferous!” he exclaimed gleefully. “Decidedly deciduous. It feels as natural as spring following winter!”

  Molly suddenly gasped and glanced around. “If we’re here, and Crimple’s up there, where’s Vuall?”

  Tim’s heart thudded anxiously. She was right—they’d been so caught up in what was happening between them that they’d completely forgotten the old crone. Had she escaped? Was she out there somewhere plotting an attack?

  “I think she might be over here, Opener,” Crimple said, hovering over a coffin that had appeared in the ever-changing dollhouse. “But I can’t be sure. Have a look and tell me what you think.”

  Tim couldn’t imagine how Crimple couldn’t identify a woman as distinctive-looking as Vuall. He crossed to the coffin with Molly beside him. Although it was gleaming white and covered with gorgeous roses, the coffin was an odd sight and seemed out of place in the transformed dollhouse. He held his breath, unsure of what to expect, and peered into the box.

  A beautiful young woman lay in the satin-lined coffin. He could now see why Crimple was so confused. Tim only recognized the woman as Vuall because of her dress and long loopy earrings.

  “How can it be?” Molly said. “After all the horrid things she did, she turns beautiful.”

  “Only after she died,” Tim noted. “This must be who she was before she became the woman we met. This was what she was when she made the choice that put her on a path that led her here.”

  “I guess dealing with demons really takes a toll,” Molly commented.

  “Don’t mention tolls,” Tim said. “Maybe she isn’t really dead. I wonder if we should try to wake her up.” He scratched his head theatrically, pretending to think hard. “I know there’s a time-tested method for doing that in fairy tales. What was it again?”

  Molly crossed her arms and smirked. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Me? No, not me.” He gave Molly a sly grin. “But you could kiss her.”

  Molly raised an eyebrow. “Tell me you’re not serious.”

  “I’m not serious.”

  “You have this all backward,” Molly complained. “I’m the girlfriend. I’m supposed to tease you mercilessly.”

  “I’ve decided to break as many stereotypes as I possibly can this week,” Tim said.

  “Home,” Crimple interrupted. “We still have to figure out how to get home. And find Tanger.”

  “You’re right, Crimple,” Tim said. “We keep getting distracted.” He gazed down again at the beautiful woman in the coffin. “I bet she would help us in this form.”

  “We don’t need her,” Molly declared. “We’ve been doing fine on our own.”

  Molly’s confidence in him warmed Tim inside, as if hot chocolate ran through his veins. He took her hand. “We sure have.”

  “So now it’s time we find Tanger.”

  “We?”

  “We.” Molly set her jaw.

  Tim knew it was useless to argue with her once her mind was made up—as it obviously was—but he felt he had to at least protest a little. “It’s not really safe for you, you know.”

  “Oh, like it’s safe for you,” she retorted. “Besides, you’re not going to prop me up on some shelf like a stupid Lacey doll or trap me in a tower like a princess.” She yanked her hand away from him and tapped his chest with her finger, underscoring her points. “I’m not going anywhere.” Poke. “Until we’ve found Tanger.” Poke. “And had a little chat.” Poke. “With whoever it was who had me dino-napped.” Double poke.

  Tim grabbed her finger to make her stop poking him. “Chat with them? You’re mad!”

  “Tim, don’t you get it?” she asked. “They’re not going to leave us alone unless we give them a reason to.”

  Tim gazed into her serious eyes for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right,” he admitted. “You’ve become a target as much as I have. And unless we figure out why and stop them, neither of us will ever be safe.”

  Crimple flapped his wings and flew to the door. “So it’s time to find Tanger, now, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “That’s the very first thing we’ll do,” Tim promised. “And we won’t leave this world until we have him back again.”

  Reassured, Crimple’s wings fluttered, and another tiny flower sprouted from his elbow.

  Tim took Molly’s hand and they left the dollhouse. As much as it had transformed inside, nothing had changed outside. There was still the dark forest to face and a lost friend to find.

  Tim bent down and picked up a stone. “Time to try this old trick again,” he said, scratching the letter T onto the smooth surface.

  Chapter Nine

  TANGER SAT IN A dark wood, his back pressed up against the trunk of a tree. How ever did I wind up all alone? he wondered. He was certain he had been transported with the Opener, so where was the Opener? Had Tim gone and lost himself? Humans did have a tendency to go in all directions at once, so it was quite possible that he and Tim had become separated. Tanger was definitely more of a one-place-at-a-time sort of creature.

  Oh, who would have thought we’d ever stray so far from our places? He shivered a bit and rubbed his back against the bark. It was a comforting feeling, being up against a tree. It was the most familiar sight in the strange and murky landscape.

  Tanger took stock of his surroundings. Trees and mist, mist and trees. That’s all that seems to be here. There were a few howls here and there, of course, but Tanger tried not to think about those.

  “Demon Playland,” Tanger muttered. “I never thought I’d live to see the day when I’d be in such a place.” He tried to hope that all would be well, that he would be reunited with his dear friend Crimple, that they would return safe and sound to their lovely tree. Really, it was a dear thing, their tree. So leafy, so many thick roots to slide down, their little abode inside the trunk so cozy. A tree is solid, it can be counted on. Friends, too, for that matter.

  So no matter how dark this place, no matter how ghostly and filled with apparitions the entire world seems to be, I will not give up. Even if he lost his own life by having wandered so far from his place, he’d stay put now, he would. It is the smartest thing to do, or I’m a saucepan. He tugged his twiggy knees up to his chest and wrapped his skinny arms around them. Yes, I’ll wait right here until Tim finds himself again.

  The demon Barbatos was not pleased. Far from it.

  This is not going as planned, he thought as he stomped through the woods. His fishlike eyes narrowed in his round, bald head. There was a change in the air. All that oozing happiness is making me queasy. And it is wreaking havoc on the environment. He snapped a blossom off a nearby rosebush and tossed it to the ground. Things are actually blooming, for badness sake!

  His tiny teeth gnashed. I must stop this before everything spins ridiculously out of control.

  “That blasted Molly O’Reilly!” he cursed. She had spoiled everything. She was preventing young master Tim from becoming master Timothy Hunter, the mage Barbatos adeptly manipulated. If this kept up, young Tim would never become bitter and twisted. He wouldn’t go power mad. He wouldn’t strike bargains with demons.

  And that would never do.

  Barbatos tapped the tips of his blue fingers together, formulating a plan. It all seemed to rest on that girl. I must separate them once and for all, create the event that sets him adrift, triggers the obsessions. But how? This plan had to be clever, diabolical. Permanent.

  This won’t be simple, he realized. If I put her in danger, I run the risk of fueling the flame of heroism and dashing derring-do in Tim. Barbatos knew that a dramatic and romantic scenario could bring Tim and Molly even closer together—if such a thing were possible. Besides, he reminded himself, she does have a pesky knack for rescuin
g herself.

  “Hmm,” he rumbled. Look to her for your answer, he told himself. She’s the problem—she will present the solution.

  Tanger was startled to see grass sprouting on the barren patch of ground in front of him. Gazing around, he noticed flowers bursting full grown from a nearby bush. Spring certainly arrives all at once in these parts, he reckoned.

  Then, oh joy! Such a marvelous sight! Crimple! And not just any Crimple. A transformed Crimple! A flying, darting, swooping, lively, and alive Crimple! And Tim and Molly right along with him.

  Tanger leaped to his feet and waved. “Crimple! Tim! Molly!” he shouted. “You’ve found yourselves!”

  “Tanger! Look, it’s Tanger!” Crimple swooped straight toward his twiggy friend, then hovered a few inches above him. “Tanger, I have wings!”

  Tanger reached up and clasped Crimple’s leafy hands. He was nearly lifted off his tiny feet by Crimple’s fluttering movements. “Yes, I see. How marvelous!”

  “Oh, you should have seen me. I was amazingly brave.” He released Tanger’s hands and darted and soared in front of his friend. He came to a stop and hovered again. “Especially when you consider how terrified I was.”

  “Oh, how I wish I could have been there!” Tanger said.

  “We wished it, too!” Crimple landed on the ground in front of Tanger. “We wished it so much, indeed.”

  “Let me take a look at those things,” Tanger instructed, using a scrawny finger to indicate that Crimple should turn around.

  “Aren’t they a pip?” Crimple twirled so that Tanger could take a closer look at the brand-new wings.

  “It’s so strange to see you with those,” Tanger commented. He slapped his woody thigh and hooted. “The joke is on me!” he exclaimed. “This whole time I was worrying about you, afraid you’d be withering. And just look at you!”

  “Oh, but I was withering!” Crimple protested. “I’d left my place, after all. And I was ever so worried I’d never see you again. And—” He dropped his voice to a lower register. “I was in constant danger of being pruned!”

  “No!” Tanger gasped, his hands rushing to his cheeks in horror.

  Crimple nodded. “Oh, yes. Yes indeedy do. But Molly and I faced down the old crone. You should have seen our Molly. She was marvelous.”

  “And silly you,” Tanger scolded. “You ran away and refused to meet her when she first arrived at our tree!”

  Crimple hung his head in shame. “Don’t I know it. What a silly splinter I was. And do you know, I would be sapless now, I believe, if Molly and the Opener hadn’t…hadn’t…” He seemed at a loss for words.

  “Hadn’t what?” Tanger asked, puzzled.

  “Hadn’t done this!” Crimple leaned forward and placed his lips on Tanger’s cheek, making a smacking sound. He stepped back and looked at Tanger.

  Tanger touched the spot Crimple had kissed. “What an interesting thing to do. It says hello in an entirely different way.”

  He continued tapping his cheek with his twiggy finger. “Perhaps that was what made the grass grow.” Tanger pointed to the lush new lawn spreading out under them. “I noticed a sudden blooming. Quite unlike anything I have ever seen. And my old joints perked up a bit.” He danced around Crimple, lifting his knees high. “Why, I feel like a sapling again!”

  “I do believe you are right!” Crimple declared, clapping happily. “That is the precise and perfect explanation!” Crimple grabbed Tanger’s hands, and they danced a merry little jig. Crimple fluttered a few inches above the ground, while Tanger took care not to be slapped by Crimple’s new wings. “Oh, yes, I do believe it is!”

  Delighted, Tim watched the little narls’ reunion. They were so happy to see each other. He was thrilled to think that something as simple and wonderful as a kiss could have had such an extraordinary impact on even this world. He grinned as he noticed Tanger starting to sprout in the same way Crimple had. Tim figured it was only a matter of time before Tanger also grew a pair of wings.

  Tim took Molly’s hand. “I’d say everything’s just about taken care of here. We should go home.”

  “You’re forgetting something,” Molly said.

  “Oh right.” Tim sighed. “You want to take on the puffy pink dinosaurs. And whoever is in charge of them.” He smiled sheepishly. “I was kind of hoping you had forgotten about the bad guys in light of all this good news.” He gestured at the flowering landscape and the exuberant, now-leafy little narls.

  “I don’t think we can ever forget about the bad guys,” Molly warned.

  A loud thud behind him made Tim jump. His head whipped around as he scanned the area, trying to determine the source of the sound. He spotted something on the path.

  “Where’d that book come from?” Tim said. A thick book lay on the ground, looking completely out of place. Tim crossed to it, knelt down, and turned several pages.

  “This is superweird,” he commented. He turned to face Molly and the narls. “I’ve seen this book before. A troll made me read a story from it.”

  “What’s it doing here?” Molly asked.

  Tim stood up and gazed around. “I don’t see the troll anywhere nearby, and, believe me, he’d be tough to miss.”

  “I doubt he’d leave his bridge,” Tanger said. “They do like their tolls. Never known one to pass one up.”

  Tim didn’t bother asking Tanger how he knew about the habits of trolls. The narls kept surprising him. Tim had learned to accept that. “But if that’s true,” Tim began, “how did—”

  Before Tim could finish his sentence, the pages of the book flipped themselves open. Tim felt a powerful force pulling at him, dragging him toward the book that lay on the ground. A fierce wind whipped up, sending the narls flying, along with broken tree limbs, dust clods, and dust. He could barely see Molly as the sharp wind made tears spring into his eyes. And all the time, he could feel his body being dragged toward the book.

  “Molly, run!” he shouted over the roaring whirlwind.

  “No way!” she screamed back. “Not without you!”

  Tim dug in his heels and leaned backward as hard as he could, desperately fighting against the gale. But it was no use. He was sucked into the book!

  Barbatos stood in the bushes and smiled. One down, one to go. He chanted the incantations, and before Molly knew what was happening, he swept her into the book, too—though to a very different page.

  The demon chuckled. This was the perfect plan—he was sure of it. Molly would drop Tim herself. Put an end to things. Certainly she would. What girl wouldn’t, when she discovers what is in store, who Tim would become? Yes. This will work quite satisfactorily.

  And now for the pièce de résistance. The ace in the hole. The sure thing. With a snap of his blue fingers, Barbatos brought himself to his own Timothy Hunter—all grown up but still decidedly childish, come to think of it.

  Timothy cowered where Barbatos had left him, afraid to move, afraid the future that they had created together was woefully undone.

  “Barbatos!” Timothy cried. “You’re back. Is everything…taken care of?”

  Barbatos took note of the sweat beaded on the magician’s forehead. Good. He was in a particularly vulnerable state.

  Barbatos bowed, hiding his smile. “Master, I have done what I can. But this future is still unstable, as you no doubt can sense. I will need your help for the next phase.”

  “My help! Why?”

  “You are so much more powerful than I,” Barbatos wheedled. “I believe I have discovered the solution. You must go to Molly while she is still a child, which is when all this started. But you cannot appear to her as you are now.” Barbatos waved his hand up and down in front of Timothy, as if his human shape were an out-of-style suit.

  “Yes, yes, of course, I’ll need a disguise.” Timothy stood and paced the room, biting his nails. “Why is that again?”

  “She must see you as you truly are,” Barbatos explained sweetly. “That is the test. If she sees you as you are, no matter you
r shape, you have ensured your future.”

  Before Timothy could annoy him with another question or anxiety attack, Barbatos said the words, made the gestures, and the magician was transformed into a fire-breathing dragon.

  Barbatos swept him into the thick storybook and slammed the covers shut. “Look alive, my little puppets,” he crooned, stroking the leather binding. “Have you memorized your lines? Are you prepared to utter clichés on cue?” He thumped the cover. “Lovely! Let’s cloud some little romantic minds. My princess. My knight. And my dragon.”

  Chapter Ten

  “WHERE AM I NOW?” Tim muttered. There are way too many places inside of places these days. He felt like one of those dolls that had another doll inside it, and then another and another.

  With worlds, does it go on to infinity? he wondered. How small are the inhabitants there? And do they know they’re so tiny? And does having a world inside it tickle the host world?

  “Stop it!” he ordered himself. “Sheesh. Your speculations are goofier and more convoluted than anything those multiple mini Tims could have come up with!”

  Stay focused. He let out a slow breath, trying to gather his thoughts. Okay, so what just happened? Molly, Crimple, and I found Tanger. Things were looking up. He sighed. Then I stupidly had to go and check out the book. And now I’m in it!

  “Molly!” he called. “Where are you?”

  No answer. Maybe that’s good, he told himself. Maybe that means she’s with Tanger and Crimple and she’s safe. But Tim knew he was kidding himself. She would never stay safely somewhere if she thought he was in danger. Perhaps, she had been trapped by that whirlwind, too.

  That means she might be here somewhere. And I just have to find her.

  But where is here? Tim gazed around him. He was in another forest, but this one was lush and beautiful. A full moon hung low on the horizon, and he could hear birdcalls, chirping insects, and softly flowing water. This wasn’t the strangely two-dimensional wood of the Demon Playland, where the color was flat and fear was in the air; this was total Technicolor—vibrant, a vision straight out of a movie.