“I liked you as a puppet,” said Jaya. “And you have to admit I’m a good puppet master. You would still be a puppet if I weren’t.”
“Welcome back, both of you,” said Doc.
“Thank you,” said Marc. He cleared his throat. “Hey, Aaron. I, um, I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. You tried to save me from Badwin back there. I owe you.” It’s hard to look dignified and repentant with a crowing three-year-old on your shoulders, but he did it.
“Yeah, well,” said Aaron. He sounded embarrassed. “It didn’t work, did it?”
“That’s not the point. She could have killed you. Thank you.”
“Yes, thank you, Aaron,” said Anjali. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. He turned bright red and looked at me.
I felt a sudden breeze, as if I were fainting.
“Elizabeth, watch out!” Jaya yelled.
The enormous bird had opened its eyes and leapt out of the tree straight at me. I ducked and threw my arms over my face. It landed on my shoulder—it was like having a motorcycle land on you—and reached for my head with its vast, hooked beak.
I was too scared even to scream. I shut my eyes. Why hadn’t I left well enough alone? The bird was dying before I helped it. Was this my reward?
It was taking the bird an awfully long time to tear me to pieces. I peeked at it.
“Crawk,” it said. With its vicious beak, it began gently combing my hair.
“You seem to have made a friend, Elizabeth,” said Doc.
The bird looked at me with one yellow eye. It was the size of a cereal bowl.
“I expect she likes being scratched under the chin,” said Doc.
“But its neck—her neck,” I said. “She’s hurt.”
I was wrong. The wound was gone. My fingers found nothing but soft feathers.
“You washed her wound with fountain water, didn’t you? The water here has healing powers.”
“Creek,” said the bird softly, taking my earlobe in its beak and twirling my earring around with its tongue. It tickled.
“You’re kind of heavy, bird. And that tickles. Dr. Rust, what is this bird?”
“I’m not sure, probably a crossbreed. She looks like a roc, only a whole lot smaller.”
“Smaller!” It was the biggest bird I’d ever seen, or even heard of.
Doc nodded. “Rocs are the size of a house—a big one. Our friend here would fit nicely in a Manhattan studio apartment. And she has those scallops on her wings and the pink cere. A cross between a roc and a parakeet, maybe.”
“A parakeet? Those little birds they sell for ten dollars at the pet shop?”
Doc nodded.
“You’re a pretty big parakeet,” I told the bird.
“Crock,” she agreed.
“That still tickles.”
“Why is Polly being nice now, when she tried to kill us before?” asked Jaya. “Isn’t this the monster bird that was chasing you?”
“Wallace Stone must have put her under a spell, and the fountain water must have broken it,” said Doc.
“But why was she following me?” asked Anjali.
“I bet Mr. Stone sent her to try to kidnap you, to sell you to collectors,” I said.
“Could be,” said Dr. Rust. “Or to throw us off his trail so we wouldn’t guess he was the thief. I’m ashamed to say it worked. I really believed he was on our side. That reminds me. Where’s that kuduo?”
“Here,” said Marc.
“Thanks.” Doc took the lid off, said a few words I couldn’t quite make out, and tipped the contents out on the grass. “Let’s see if we can figure out who trapped me in that bubble. I bet Wallace Stone was using something in here to control them.”
The contents piled up in a shining mound. I saw my sense of direction—bright, complex, and embarrassing—come tumbling out. “Oh!” I said, before I could stop myself.
Andre banged on his brother’s shoulders. “Let me down,” he said. Marc swung him to the grass, and Andre ran over to look at my sense of direction. He reached out one hand and poked it. I felt momentarily dizzy.
“Don’t worry, Elizabeth,” said Doc. “With Wallace out of the picture, I’m sure we’ll find that comb, so you can get your sense of direction back.”
The flow of kuduo contents slowed. Doc shook the box a little and pulled out something flat and dark, then something fluffy like cotton candy, then something sharp, which he put down carefully on the grass. Something shining oozed out next. It looked infinitely vulnerable and undefined, like a thought before you put it into words. “Oh!” said Aaron, chokingly.
“So that’s your firstborn! I can’t believe you traded that for the Snow White mirror.” I still felt shocked by this.
Aaron bristled. “Not traded! It was a deposit—and not for the mirror, for the chance to save Anjali! I thought it would be safe!”
“It is,” Doc reassured him. “You kept the mirror safe, right? Then there shouldn’t be a problem getting it back . . . Ah, here we go, I think.”
Something hard and angular clattered out of the kuduo. It lay on the grass, denting the dandelions. Doc picked it up and twisted it this way and that.
“What is it?” asked Anjali.
“Somebody’s willpower.”
“Whose?”
“I’m not sure—I expect it belongs to whoever locked me up in that bubble. We’ll find out soon. I’ll use it to summon them. They have to obey whoever controls their willpower.” Doc wrapped a corner of the thing around a finger and pulled it tight. “Okay, they’re on their way now.”
“Here?” I asked.
Doc nodded.
“Are you sure that’s safe?” asked Anjali.
“Oh, I doubt they wanted to hurt me. Their willpower was in Wallace Stone’s hands, and now it’s in mine. I won’t let them hurt anyone. Who has the Golden Key? Aaron? Would you mind letting whoever it is through the gate?”
“Not at all,” said Aaron.
“Meanwhile, perhaps the rest of you could put this stuff back in the kuduo, since I have my hands full.” Doc gestured with the willpower.
“I’ll do it,” said Jaya eagerly. She began picking things up and stuffing them indiscriminately into the kuduo.
“Gently, Jaya. Some of that stuff is . . . sensitive.”
Anjali and I went over to help. I found it uncomfortable work. Every one of the objects alarmed me, some so much that I hesitated to touch them. Jaya had no such scruples.
“What is this?” she asked, holding up a long, translucent, sweater-shaped thing. I had trouble focusing on it.
“Is that the elusive cloak of invisibility?” I asked.
“No, somebody’s sense of privacy, I think,” said Doc.
“I wonder how it works?” said Jaya, turning it inside out and poking at the folds.
“Quit it, Jaya! That’s none of your business,” I said.
She laughed—“It obviously doesn’t belong to you! Your sense of privacy is working just fine!”—and tucked it into the kuduo.
“I’m helping too,” announced Andre. He picked up corners of things and held them out.
“Thanks, Andre,” I said, gathering up the rest of something large and orange and stuffing it into the kuduo. It didn’t look like it would fit, but it did.
“Oh, there’s Aaron’s firstborn,” said Anjali.
“Baby,” said Andre, poking it with one finger.
“I’ll deal with that,” I said, quickly scooping it up. I held it for a minute before sliding it into the kuduo. It trembled a little—or was that me?
“And here’s your sense of direction,” said Anjali, holding it out to me. It whirled over the edges of her fingers.
“Would you mind dealing with it? It makes me light-headed just to look at it.”
“Of course.” She folded it neatly and fitted it into the kuduo.
In a little while, Aaron’s head appeared on the other side of the fountain. He walked toward us, ducking under the two waterspouts. Somebody was with him. We all
sat up straight.
“Martha,” said Doc, holding up the willpower. “Is this yours?”
“Oh! You got it back! Thank heaven!” Ms. Callender almost threw herself at Doc, then stopped and looked around at us uncomfortably.
“Please sit down, Martha.” Dr. Rust sounded stern but not angry.
She sat awkwardly on the grass. Her round face was wreathed in worry.
“Did you leave this as a deposit? I didn’t find a slip,” said Doc, gesturing with the willpower.
She grimaced, but she didn’t say anything.
“Oh, I get it. You can’t answer me. Wallace Stone must have put a curb on your tongue. Let me fix that.” Doc twisted the will back the other way.
Ms. Callender sighed and relaxed. “That’s much better! Thanks, Lee.”
“So, can you talk now? About Wallace, I mean.”
“I think so.”
“What happened to the call slip, then?”
“I filled one out and filed it, but Wallace made me tear it up when he got the kuduo and got his hands on my will,” said Ms. Callender. “I’m so sorry! I had no idea . . .”
“None of us did.” Doc held up the willpower. “What was this a deposit for?”
“That’s almost the worst part. It’s so embarrassing.” Ms. Callender hesitated. I felt so bad for her, I wanted to hide. Why should she have to confess in front of all of us?
But Doc said, “Go on,” and she did.
“It was Table-Be-Set, the French one. I thought I was being so smart! I set my will to restraint and left it in the kuduo, where I couldn’t change it. That way I could eat delicious food, but I wouldn’t overdo it. It was supposed to be a diet plan.”
“A diet. I guess that makes sense.”
Ms. Callender nodded sadly. “It was working too, until Wallace Stone got his hands on my will. He still has that nasty sense of humor. I’ve been eating corn chips nonstop ever since—and I don’t even like corn chips.”
“What happened to the table, do you know? I assume he took it?” Doc asked.
“It should be easy to find out, if we can only catch him. He keeps meticulous records. He has a lot of powerful things. We have to stop him!”
“Don’t worry—the pages caught him already. Elizabeth led him to Grace’s place and stranded him there.”
“You did? You angel!” She gave me a big hug.
“Anytime,” I said, embarrassed.
“So can you find the objects he stole from the Grimm Collection?” asked Doc.
Ms. Callender nodded. “I saw his records—he was making me help with the paperwork. He sold a lot of the objects, but he kept track of where they went. It might take a while, but the lawyers should be able to get them back—we have a clear title.”
“How did he do it?” asked Anjali. “We couldn’t figure out whether he was stealing the magic out of the objects or replacing them with copies.”
“He used a dereifier. At least, he did before he got ahold of my will. The latest few objects he just made me steal from the collection, but the earlier ones, before he got his hands on the kuduo this morning, he had his interns borrow them from the collection and then he copied them with the dereifier.”
“What about Zandra, the page who got fired? Was she working for him?”
“Yes. He was mad that she failed the Grimm Collection key test. She only had access to the stacks, not the Special Collections.”
“What about Mona Chen?” asked Doc.
Ms. Callender shook her head. “He tried to get her to work for him. He threatened to get her family deported, but she refused and disappeared with them. I imagine they’re hiding. He was furious about that too.”
“That’s a relief,” said Doc. “We’ll have to figure out a way to let her know it’s safe to come back.”
“So he just told you all this?” I asked. “Wasn’t he worried you’d try to stop him?”
“He answered all my questions and boasted about everything. He had my willpower, so he thought he was safe. He always did like to gloat.”
“But wait a minute,” said Aaron. “How did Mr. Stone make the copies? I thought you couldn’t copy magic with a dereifier.”
“Not fully and permanently, but you can approximate it for a while,” said Ms. Callender. “They’re working on some pretty advanced dereifiers up at MIT. Wallace managed to make fairly convincing temporary copies. That’s why they lost their magic after too many people checked them out.”
“So if my mermaid comb is a fake, where’s the real one? Will I get my sense of direction back?” I asked.
“I think it’s in Hollywood now. I’m sure we’ll get it back eventually, but I wouldn’t hold my breath. They have deep pockets and stubborn lawyers. I’m sorry, Elizabeth.”
“I’ll take you wherever you need to go,” offered Jaya. “I have a great sense of direction.”
“Thanks, Jaya,” I said sadly.
“The sooner we get started, the sooner we’ll get it back,” said Doc. “Your sense of direction and everything else. You still have the Golden Key, Aaron?”
Aaron held it up.
“Good. Marc, will you carry the kuduo?” Doc started around the fountain, under two spouting streams, and led us through the winter wood, Polly flapping loudly overhead. We came to a high wall that seemed to circle around forever. Through a low wrought-iron gate I could see the flat, fluorescent white lights of Stack 1, the Dungeon. Aaron took out the Golden Key and opened the gate.
Polly settled on the top of the gate and looked at us expectantly.
“Not you, little roc,” said Dr. Rust. “I’m sorry, but you can’t go home with Elizabeth. You’ll have to stay here for now.”
“Crrrick,” said the bird, putting her head through the gate. She sounded angry.
“It’s nicer in the garden. And Elizabeth will come visit you,” said Dr. Rust.
“How will I get in?” I asked. “I mean out? Do I need to borrow the Golden Key? Or will my sneakers work?”
“You can use the Golden Key, when you can find it. It doesn’t always let itself be found.”
“Good-bye, Polly. I’ll come soon,” I said. “It’s not everybody who gets to be friends with a former terrifying monster who lives in a magical garden!”
Chapter 27:
A carpet ride
The rest of the weekend was something of a letdown. Not that I would have expected my parents to notice my adventure; I made it home in time to help with dinner, after all. But after being shrunk down to the size of a soda can and almost eaten by a rat, defeating a crooked art dealer, helping rescue a prince and a princess from an obsessed collector, and traveling to Nowhere and back, I almost resented being expected to peel potatoes. At the end of the fairy tale, the scullery maid usually gets a promotion.
Monday at lunch, Marc waved me over to sit at his table with the basketball stars and their girlfriends. “This is my bud Elizabeth Rew,” he said, draping his arm around my shoulders. “We work together after school. She saved my life when I got in trouble with the boss.”
“Hey, Elizabeth,” the team said, nodding at me. The girlfriends smiled politely.
Then they all went back to talking, and I felt very out of place. Still, it was the thought that counted.
After lunch, Mr. Mauskopf stopped me in the hall. “Nice work,” he said. “Lee Rust told me about your adventures. It would have been even better if you’d stopped Marc from stealing the kuduo, of course—the arrogance of princes! And you both should have come to me at once for help. But still, you and your friends rescued Lee from a tight spot and did the collection a great service. I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Mauskopf,” I said, blushing.
My phone rang that evening. “Elizabeth? It’s Jaya. What do you think I should do with all these princesses? There aren’t any princes to kiss them. But they’ve got to be bored out of their minds, just sitting there.”
“What does Anjali think?”
“She’s no use. She told my
mom she was going to your house and went off to hang out with Marc.”
“Oh. I’ll ask Doc about the princesses next time I’m in the library.”
“Thanks. Do you think maybe I should play with them?”
I thought about it. If I were a doll, would I want a frenetic ten-year-old bumping me around as she acted out her fantasies? “Maybe you could play some music for them? Or put them where they can see the TV?” I suggested.
“My parents won’t let me have a TV in my room. Oh, I’ve got to go, my mom is calling.”
At the repository, I spent a long time looking for Doc’s office. “Did you get the mermaid comb back yet?” I asked when I finally found it. Then I noticed something odd. “Your freckles! They’re back,” I blurted out.
Doc nodded. “They’re what connects me to the Garden of Seasons. In the garden, they’re stars in the sky. Out here, they’re only freckles on my face.”
“That’s . . . cool,” I said. “How do you get star freckles?”
“They came when I took the job. Now, your sense of direction. I’m sorry to say we don’t have the comb back yet. I expect it will take at least a year, maybe longer. In the meantime, I thought you could use this. The board of governors approved the loan for as long as you need it.” Doc handed me a ring made of some gray metal—it looked like iron or steel—with a silvery, mirrory stone in it.
I put on the ring. “Thanks. What does it do?”
“If you think about what you desire, it shows where to go to find it. Try it.”
I thought about lunch. I felt the ring gently pulling me toward the door. I thought about my friend Nicole. The ring pulled me gently toward the door. I thought about the skating rink in Central Park. The ring gently pulled me toward the door.
“Whatever I think about, it pulls me toward the door,” I said.
“Are you thinking about things in this room?”
“No.”
“Good, then it’s working. You have to go out the door first before you can go anywhere else.”
That made sense. “Would it have led me to Anjali when we didn’t know where she was? What if I think about world peace? Not the school, I mean—the ideal. Will it lead me to where I can make it happen?”
The Grimm Legacy Page 25
