by Becket
“Just leave the tray outside the door,” the goblin waiter grumbled as he waddled back inside the closet. “Someone will fetch it later.”
The door slammed shut.
Bernard immediately walked over to it, opened it, and looked inside.
It was a closet again, no goblin diner, just a closet filled with the same shelves and the same clothes and toys. The only difference was a small note hanging from a string. It had a message with shimmering letters.
DINKLE’S GOBLIN DINER
OPEN ALL NIGHT
GREMLINS WELCOME
“How is this possible?” Beatrice asked in wonder.
Mr. Fuddlebee chuckled a little more as he poured a generous helping of maple syrup into his cup of tea. The enchanted teaspoon immediately leaped up and stirred the contents of cup for him.
“I mentioned that this onbrella was made by the Two Tinkerers,” he explained. “One of those tinkerers happens to be a clock goblin. He wrote a program into the onbrella to open a Doorackle Alleyway into Dinkle’s Goblin Diner. He knows how much I enjoy a really good cup of tea.”
“What’s a Doorackle Alleyway?” Bernard asked.
“It is a door that leads to anywhere and everywhere,” Gates said in her robotic tone.
“It can lead down the hall or across the world,” Mr. Fuddlebee added. “Distance is nothing to a Doorackle Alleyway.”
“How far away is the goblin diner?” Beatrice asked.
“Oh, about three or four miles.”
The children were stunned.
“I’ve never heard of such a place in New Orleans,” Bernard said.
“I’ve never seen it on a map,” Beatrice said next.
“It is three or four miles underground,” the elderly ghost added with a wink.
Then he offered Gates a cup of tea.
“Here, my dear,” he said kindly, pouring in a large helping of maple syrup. Another enchanted teaspoon leaped off the table and stirred her cup too. “This will brighten your cheeks a touch.”
Gates sipped it and smiled.
“Delicious, isn’t it,” the elderly ghost said with a beaming expression.
He handed two cups to Bernard and Beatrice as well, pouring in ample amounts of maple syrup while more enchanted teaspoons stirred the cups.
Berkeley had already made his little carton of honey milk float off the table and into his hands. He had almost finished it by now, and was working hard to lick off his honey milk mustache.
“You have an interesting name,” Mr. Fuddlebee said to the zombie cyber girl. “Gates. I think it means you are a very important part of this house.”
Gates looked up shyly from her teacup. She shrugged and gave a little nod.
Beatrice studied her with great curiosity. Then she asked, “What makes her so important?”
“And why must she hide in our closet?” Bernard asked next.
“She holds the house together,” Mr. Fuddlebee said. “She is the one who allows things to come in and go out—things like monsters and mayhem and all sorts of Mystical Creatures. She is the gateway to your home.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Halloween Hollow
Everyone finished their cup of tea. Soon they all felt refreshed and clearheaded.
Bernard and Beatrice still had countless questions. But before they could ask them, Gates pressed a few buttons on her mechanical arm.
The closet door opened by itself.
To the amazement of the three Button children, the inside of their closet had no more clothes or toys. There was no goblin diner either. Now in place of all that was a stone passage. There were old stone steps going down into cold dark air. And on the walls were rusty gas lamps flickering with soft golden light.
Mr. Fuddlebee grinned with excitement.
“I can’t wait to see what comes next.”
Gates went down first, followed by the elderly ghost, and then the three Button children.
The stairs wound down and down and down. It got colder the farther down they went.
The Button children could peep into their house through the cracks in the wall. First they saw their own staircase, then their first floor, and then their basement. Finally they went so far down they were below their house. Now there was nothing left to see but the light of the lamps and their shadows flickering on the smooth walls.
Mr. Fuddlebee studied everything he saw with his onbrella. Cracks, crumbs, dust, rust. Everything excited him. His glee echoed through the tunnel.
“Marvelous. Just marvelous!”
Finally the stairs ended in a small room, like a lost cellar. There was an old table in one corner. Two skeletons were sitting at it playing a game of chess. The chessboard was covered in dust and cobwebs.
Gates went to an old bookcase.
It held books with titles that Beatrice had never read before, such as Ginny Goodwitch’s Guide to Graves, Ghosts, & Gingerbread Houses; Terrence Troll’s Treatment for the Tricky Trick-or-Treater; and Victoria Specter’s Voodoo Spells for a Special Valentine’s Day.
The three Button children huddled closer together, wondering just what exactly was under their New Orleans home.
Gates pressed a few more buttons on her mechanical arm.
The bookcase slowly swung open.
Behind it stood an ancient doorway leading to a wonderful little village.
“Welcome to my home,” Gates said.
Bernard gasped in awe. “Where are we?”
Mr. Fuddlebee knew. He grinned broadly. “This is Halloween Hollow.”
The air was filled with the spicy scent of warm pumpkin pie.
All the roads were laid in cobblestones.
All the buildings were large jack-o-lanterns.
Many were homes. Several were shops. Yet all these jack-o-lantern establishments had different faces carved into them. Some faces were scary and some were funny. Some were glaring and some were staring, some were sneering and some were leering, some were beaming, some screaming, some mad, some sad, and some changed shape the farther you walked down the street.
Inside every jack-o-lantern building was an enchanted fire that burned warmly. Their ruddy light shone invitingly into the street to all the passersby.
Their wooden doors were opening and closing, with bells jangling in the doorway, as customers went in and went out, most with empty pockets and arms full of boxes, and a few with empty pickpocketing hands yet pockets full of loot.
The shops and streets were packed full of the most amazing creatures and machines that the Button children had ever seen.
There were trolls in top hats and tailcoats, sorcerers in smart suits, lady goblins in long gowns, witches with pumpkin parasols, and warlocks with canes and frock coats. And there was much, much more.
Cobwebs covered over almost everything too. Hanging from them were tiny lights in small skulls that cast a soft yellow glow. Bats were fluttering overhead. Several landed and turned into vampires. Gargoyles wearing police uniforms eyed them suspiciously. Nearby, Gnomes in corners were selling newspapers. Skeletons wrapped in scarves were talking about the weather. Witches were selling magic potions for love, long life, and lollipops. There were homeless hobgoblins down on their luck. There were large dragons bounding by and hiccupping fire. There were robots running on steam and electricity. In fact, there were so many more Mystical Creatures crowded together that the Button children could not keep count.
Looking up, they saw that the ceiling was hidden in darkness. Yet there were little lights like stars. These were magic lanterns hanging from the ceiling, where dwarves lived. From the lights gingerly fell something like snow. It was magic ash the color of lilac and smelled of apricots.
Gates the zombie cyber girl led Mr. Fuddlebee and the Button children into the streets.
They passed a sandman shop selling dreams and nightmares. They passed a barbarian barman selling pumpkin rum, whip cream whisky, ginger ale gin, and honeysuckle scotch. They passed all sorts of strange public transportation too.
There were the Pixie Taxicabs that went all over Halloween Hollow. There were the Zombie Zeppelins that went to the City of the Dead. There was the Troll & Sprite Train Station that went to several Mystical Creature Kingdoms, including Welkin City. And there was also the Dragon Wagon Co. that went to places all across the underworld, as well as the French Quarter in New Orleans. The dragons employed by this company had carriages on their backs. And all the carriages were packed with passengers.
It was the most amazing place the three Button children had ever seen. They could barely believe it had always been right beneath their home.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Candle Lighthouse
Beatrice Button had read so many books about the world, she could barely believe this beautiful underworld was real.
“Mr. Fuddlebee,” she said in wonder, “did we go through another Doorackle Alleyway, like the one to the goblin diner?”
“We can’t still be beneath our house,” Bernard said too.
“This is no alleyway,” the elderly ghost replied. “Everyone has something beneath their home. Most mortals have grubs and dirt. A few mortals have skeletons. You have Halloween Hollow. Isn’t that extraordinary!”
“Where did it come from?” Bernard asked.
Gates answered in her robotic tone, “The hollow was built before your house.”
“So our home was build on top of the hollow?” asked Bernard.
“Correct,” Gates replied.
“Mr. Fuddlebee,” said Beatrice, “what did you mean when you said that Gates allows things to come in and go out of the house?”
The elderly ghost replied while studying a passing mummy with his onbrella.
“Our dear Gates is the gateway to all ingresses and egresses.”
“All what and what?” Bernard asked.
“Ingresses and egresses,” Beatrice said. “He means entrances and exits.”
“So,” said Bernard, trying to understand, “Gates is a gate keeper?”
“I am the gateway,” Gates corrected.
She led them deeper into the hollow, past nasty newsstands, past shady souvenir shops, past killer kiosks, past groups of Mystical Creatures at a feral food court, until they came to an old lighthouse in the middle of the hollow.
The Button children could not tell if it was an old lighthouse or a very large candle. At the top was a flickering tongue of fire. All around it was melted wax that ran in long lines down to the street. The wax had a rich smell like beeswax.
Gates led them through a crooked door and up some wonky stairs to the uppermost office. It was hers. In the middle was her desk with neatly ordered stacks of paper, one labeled new, another labeled old. The old stack had several ancient scrolls. The new stack had tablet devices. And dug into the waxy walls of the office were all sorts of computer panels filled with buttons to push and switches to flip and levers to pull.
Gates sat at her desk. She plugged her robotic fingers into inserts. Words flashed across her eyes.
“I see everything that comes in and goes out of the hollow,” she said flatly.
“Everything that comes in and goes out of our house, you mean,” said Bernard.
“Yes,” Gates said without emotion. “I am the gate. I guard all entrances and exits. Nothing comes in without my permission or goes out without my knowledge…except once.”
Mr. Fuddlebee raised his ghostly eyebrows when he heard this.
Beatrice peered through a window. From the top she had a very grand view of the hollow. And as she was gazing over the wonder of all those Mystical Creatures hustling and bustling far below, a sudden thought came to her.
“Our home does not make strange noises,” she said. “This hollow with all these creatures makes the clanging and banging and moaning and groaning. Isn’t that right?”
Mr. Fuddlebee agreed. “A house above Halloween Hollow is never the quietest in the neighborhood. The hullabaloo coming up from this place must have been disturbing. No wonder mortals think your house is haunted. However, I fear there is something else going on. I would not have been summoned otherwise.”
The elderly ghost turned to Gates.
“Is that not so, my dear?”
Gates did not meet his eyes. She stared down at her desk, looking ashamed. She started pressing buttons and flipping switches.
“Something entered the hollow without my permission,” she admitted in a low voice.
Beatrice and Bernard imagined all sorts of terrible things that might have gotten inside their home, like burglars or bogeymen, criminals or creepy crawly things.
“What has gotten into our house?” Bernard asked.
“Unknown,” Gates said.
“I suspect,” Mr. Fuddlebee remarked, “this must be the very odd and odious kerfuffle I was sent to investigate.”
“Confirmed,” said Gates. “You were allowed in because you have the skill to find and expel the trespasser.”
“Oh, trespasser,” Mr. Fuddlebee smiled. “I like that word. Nothing spells danger like passing tresses.”
“What do you think it could be?” Bernard asked.
“Actually, I’m not sure,” the ghost admitted. “What exactly is a tress?”
“No, not that,” Beatrice corrected. “Who could the intruder be?”
The elderly ghost pointed his onbrella through the window and studied the crowd of Mystical Creatures far below. His onbrella buzzed and he examined the readouts on the handle.
“There are too many individuals here to know if any of them snuck in. But one thing is certain. With a little luck and a lot of magic, we should be able to get to the bottom of this mystery.”
He gazed out over Halloween Hollow.
“Actually, two things are certain. I drank too much tea. Do you have a little ghost’s room?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Elizabeth Sasquatch
Gates the zombie cyber girl took Mr. Fuddlebee and the Button children to the duchess of Halloween Hollow, a witch called the Duchess of Dusk.
They left the candle lighthouse and walked through the crowded streets. They passed a blacksmith hammering out dragon scale armor, which Bernard ogled. They passed a shop selling magic books, which Beatrice yearned to visit. They passed an enchanted umbrella shop, which caught Mr. Fuddlebee’s attention. And they passed a shop with little chocolates in the window, all of which were enchanted to call out to passersby. Berkeley made them float out of the shop and into his mouth.
Bernard tried to keep a map in his head of where they were going, but it was impossible. Halloween Hollow was like a maze.
“Three lefts, two rights, seven more lefts, three downs, one up…” he was saying to himself, but by the time they got to the duchess’s house, he felt dizzy and lost.
The house of the Duchess of Dusk was a large jack-o-lantern with several smaller pumpkins around the head like a crown of turrets.
Gates knocked on the front door.
A large beast growled. Booming footfalls followed. Then the door flew open. And now standing in the doorway was an enormous beast covered all over in horns and hair, wearing an apron, and holding a wooden spoon covered in cake frosting.
The three Buttons held each other closer together.
Mr. Fuddlebee’s ghostly face brightened.
“Why, hello Elizabeth,” he chirped. “It is good to see you again. How long has it been? Jack’s Halloween Bash, am I right? Goodness, that was ages ago. How is Leonard? And the children, how many are there now?”
The large monster growled deeply.
“Seventeen?” replied Mr. Fuddlebee.
The monster replied with another deep growl.
“This year? My word, that must be quite a handful.”
The monster nodded, then grunted and yipped.
“Well, I guess not. If I’d had a litter that rambunctious, I might not have slept in the last eleven months either.”
The monster invited the ghost, the zombie cyber girl, and the three Button children i
nside.
Beatrice whispered to Gates, “Is this the Duchess of Dusk?”
“This is her housekeeper,” Gates answered.
The monster offered coffee and donuts, wiping white powder from the corners of her mouth.
“I would love a cup of chai tea with maple syrup, thank you,” Mr. Fuddlebee said.
Almost instantly the monster pulled out of her fur a cup of hot tea and a bottle of maple syrup. She poured in the syrup, stirred it, and handed it to the ghost. He drank it and his cheeks turned a darker shade of green.
“Ah,” he sighed happily, “as delicious as ever.”
He turned to the three Button children and said to them, “Allow me to introduce the Duchess of Dusk’s housekeeper, Elizabeth Sasquatch.”
“How do you do,” they all said to the large furry monster.
Elizabeth Sasquatch nodded and growled.
Mr. Fuddlebee translated: “She says you look delicious.”
The eyes of the Button children all went wide with fear and they took a step back.
The elderly ghost chuckled.
“Oh, do not worry. That is a compliment from a sasquatch. It is her way of saying you three are so charming she could just eat you up.”
“But she doesn’t eat children, right?” Beatrice asked.
The sasquatch growled and howled.
“She says she stopped when she became a mother,” Mr. Fuddlebee explained. “Doctors orders.”
Gates stood before Elizabeth Sasquatch. “Is the Duchess in?”
The monster growled questioningly.
“That is correct,” Mr. Fuddlebee answered. “Gates no longer speaks binary. I upgraded her from the EGOS software to the DIOS.”
Elizabeth Sasquatch brought a little computer out from her fur, showed it to the elderly ghost, and growled inquiringly at him.
“Why, I would be happy to upgrade it too,” he replied to her with a bright smile.
Mr. Fuddlebee tapped the computer with the tip of his onbrella. It buzzed and the small computer whirred with new life.
