by Becket
The older brother did not argue back. He listened to his sister, even though sometimes the wind was strong and tried to blow the manor off course. He was strong too, and he held the manor straight.
It landed in the middle of Jackson Square, right around the corner from Pirate’s Alley.
The people of New Orleans gathered around the house and knocked on the front door.
The six friends came out and stood before them. No New Orleanian was surprised to see Gates the zombie cyber girl or Gideon Gizmo the mechmage. None were surprised to see Bernard wearing pumpkin armor, or Beatrice wearing Cinderella’s gown strapped head-to-toe in fantastic gadgets, or even Berkeley who happened to be floating more candy into his open mouth. And no one was worried or afraid when the saw the glowing green form of the elderly ghost, Mr. Fuddlebee.
The sun finally set and it was time for the agent of SPOOK to leave. But before he did the elderly ghost raised his onbrella and saluted the crowd.
“Good day to you all. Will we get towed if we park here?”
The mayor of New Orleans came out of the crowd and tried to shake the elderly ghost’s hand, but his hand passed right through it, so instead he shook his onbrella.
“That was a splendid show!” the mayor said in a booming voice so that everyone could hear.
“Oh,” said Mr. Fuddlebee as he gave a little chuckle, “you haven’t seen anything yet.”
Then he turned to Macabre Manor.
“It’s all right,” he said to those still inside. “You can come out.”
Now poured out all sorts of Mystical Creatures—goblins and hobgoblins; gremlins and imps; trolls and ogres; vampires and warlocks; witches and wizards; sorcerers and soothsayers; ghouls and golems and more ghosts. And after them came dwarves and gnomes and brownies; werewolves and wrights and will-o'-the-wisps; elves and phantoms and spirits; skeletons and mummies and poltergeists and headless horsemen and more zombies. And there were countless more. Jackson Square could barely hold them all.
Bernard was a little worried when he saw the people were gaping at these creatures, with eyes wide and full of wonderment.
“Mr. Fuddlebee,” he said softly to the elderly ghost, “aren’t you worried people will panic?”
“Not a bit,” chuckled Mr. Fuddlebee. “Just wait and see.”
He floated a little higher off the ground and spoke in a loud voice to the crowd of New Orleanians.
“Friends and fiends, I would like to welcome you to the Heart of Halloween. Just go through these doors where you can celebrate Halloween all night every night.”
The crowd shouted and cheered with excitement. They loved Halloween! It was one of their most favorite days of the year, beside Lundi Gras and Mardi Gras; Saint Joseph’s Day and Saint Patrick’s Day; Jazz Fest, French Quarter Fest, and Voodoo Fest; and all the other days that New Orleanians find a reason to celebrate, which was almost every day of the year.
Mr. Fuddlebee waved his onbrella and the crowd briefly quieted to hear what else he had to say.
“Let me also introduce you to the new managers of Macabre Manor,” he said and pointed his onbrella toward the three children. “Bernard Button, Beatrice Button, and Berkeley Button. They will live here and take care of the magic of Halloween.”
The crowd cheered even louder than before.
The three Button children stared at the elderly ghost in amazement.
“How can we manage Macabre Manor?” asked Bernard.
“How can we manage Halloween?” asked Beatrice.
“We’re only children,” they said together.
The elderly ghost smiled kindly on them. Then he nodded once more at Gates.
She reached into her pocket, took out the Gnostike Timepiece, and gave it to the Button children.
“Here is the key to your new home,” the elderly ghost told them. “Since your old home was destroyed, it is only right that you should have Macabre Manor. And I see no better mortals to manage the Heart of Halloween than children, especially children like you three Buttons. Besides, I have rarely seen anyone pilot a manor the way you three did working together.”
Before the children could say anything else, the crowd was so excited about this news that they put the three Button children on their shoulders, along with Gates and Gideon. Then they carried them all over Jackson Square and into the French Quarter, having a wonderful celebration.
They paraded in a large circle and came to Cafe Du Monde where a little girl stepped out of the crowd. She was wearing a princess costume and carrying a pumpkin bucket.
“Excuse me,” she said, a little timidly at first.
“How can we help you?” Beatrice asked her.
“Could I go inside your house and visit Halloween Hollow?” the little girl asked. “You see? I’m all ready for trick-or-treating.”
“Let’s all go,” Bernard said to the crowd.
This made everyone wild with excitement. Mortals and Mystical Creatures dressed up in wonderful costumes. Then they all followed the three Button children inside Macabre Manor.
The Button children floated the manor back inside Halloween Hollow where everyone could trick-or-treat all night long.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Mettle, Magic, & Mischief
Macabre Manor parked in Jackson Square for many years afterward. Countless people and creatures came from all over the world for a visit. And the manor would take them to endless nights of trick-or-treating in Halloween Hollow.
Gates the zombie cyber girl became sheriff of the hollow. She made sure trick-or-treating went on smoothly. And she made doubly-sure that the Darkness never got back in.
Gideon Gizmo the mechmage became a tour guide in the hollow, and showed the visiting trick-or-treaters how to dodge tricks and get treats.
Mr. and Mrs. Button lived in the upper floors of Macabre Manor. They were completely terrified of the Mystical Creatures always coming in and going out. So they stayed in their room all day and night, and watched soap operas.
Mr. Fuddlebee returned to Welkin City where he and his friends, Miss Broomble and Key the Steampunk Vampire Girl, carried out many important SPOOK missions. But he would often return to Macabre Manor to visit the most famous people in New Orleans—Bernard Button, Beatrice Button, and Berkeley Button.
You too could visit them anytime you liked. All you had to do was go to Jackson Square and knock on the front teeth of a jack-o-lantern house called Macabre Manor. The doors would open and you might see some of the wonderful creatures and robots you just read about. You might see Berkeley Button on Gideon Gizmo’s shoulders making chocolate treats float over their heads. You might see Gates the zombie cyber girl talking with Bernard Button about swashbuckling with mechanical swords made by the GadgetTronic Brothers. You might even see Mr. Fuddlebee floating through the halls and into the library, where Beatrice Button could always be found, reading a book and remembering everything she read.
There is no city in the world like New Orleans. There is no time of year like Halloween. And there were no others like the Button children, who, for the rest of their lives, were always full of mettle, magic, and mischief.
OTHER BOOKS BY BECKET
Key the Steampunk Vampire Girl
and the Dungeon of Despair
Key the Steampunk Vampire Girl
and the Tower Tomb of Time
Key the Steampunk Vampire Girl
and the Floating Mansion
Good the Goblin Queen
Meredith and the Magic Library
Anne & Pythagoras: The First Cattastic Collection
Anne & Pythagoras in Halloween Wonderland
The Door to Heaven
The Christmas King
Pi Poems
Haikus
Posting Hope
American Monk
BECKET’S MUSIC
Becket Music
These books can be found at
www.becket.me
Preview of
MEREDITH AND THE MAGIC LIBRARY
CHAPTER ONE
Meredith Pocket
Meredith Pocket had short black hair that touched her chin, large beautifully blue eyes, and she was perhaps the tiniest nine-year-old you might ever meet. She looked up to everyone and everyone looked down to her, and looked down on her too, because she was not like most girls her age. Little Meredith Pocket did not have a house or a mom and dad. She lived on the street.
Yet even though she was homeless, she did not beg for money or clothes or food. She was always a quiet and kind girl, and she ate what most people threw away, not wanting to bother anyone. She had been living this way ever since she was a much littler little girl, not long after she lost her mom and dad.
In fact, she was so ignored by so many people for so much of her life that, if someone had taken the time to wash the dirt from her face and give her new clean clothes, they might have recognized her as the only daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Pocket, who had been very famous before their unexpected disappearance.
Meredith never knew what happened to her parents. She could barely remember them. She vaguely recalled her mom’s long black hair dangling down into her face when she taught Meredith to read. And she just barely remembered her dad’s scruffy chin and cheeks on those wonderful nights when he read books to her before bed. Whenever she was not thinking about trying to stay warm on cold winter nights, or trying to get a cup of hot soup and warm bread, she would sometimes think about her parents and wonder if they were still alive.
Maybe they were thinking about her too.
Yet even though Meredith lived on the street, she was not all alone. She had three very good friends.
The first two were robots. Their names were Uncle Glitch and Sir Copperpot. Sir Copperpot wore a tattered top hat, a red scarf, a long tailed coat, and a monocle. Uncle Glitch wore an aviator’s cap, a blue scarf, a thin jacket, and shoes that had once been fancy but were now scuffed and full of holes. Yet more raggedy than all that, Uncle Glitch and Sir Copperpot were two of the oldest robots you might ever meet. They had brittle bodies that shook a lot and often fell apart. Their batteries drained quicker the older they got. And their memory banks were failing more and more each day. They had to live on the street with Meredith too because everyone else had the latest and greatest inventions and they would not hire outdated models. Yet despite their failures, Uncle Glitch and Sir Copperpot never forgot about little Meredith Pocket. They took care of her as if she were their only daughter.
Meredith’s other friend was an orphan like her. No one wanted him around either because he was so strange. His name was Peter Butterpig. And he was a bright pink pig with large colorful butterfly wings. He had tried to fit in with other pigs in other pigsties, but they did not want him around since he was not like them, neither pig nor butterfly. And anything they did not think was normal like them (pigs in pigsties) they cast away out into the cold. Peter Butterpig came fluttering to town one day all alone and weeping because he was so friendless and lonely. Meredith immediately befriended him and the two were instantly inseparable, especially when other children made fun of Meredith for being homeless. Peter Butterpig would chase them off by grunting and ruffling his bright beautiful butterfly wings.
In total contrast to their poverty, Uncle Glitch, Sir Copperpot, Peter Butterpig, and little Meredith Pocket lived in a town that had one of the greatest treasures in the world. This treasure was not made of silver or gold. It was not money or credit. No, this treasure was even rarer than all those things combined. This treasure was MAGIC DUST!
CHAPTER TWO
Magic Dust
Most towns traded with gold or gems. But the economy of the town where Meredith lived thrived on the sale and trade of magic dust.
Responsible grownups worked for it every day. They bought food with it, they bought clothes with it, they bought furniture with it. And sometimes, when they stopped thinking they knew anything about everything, they had fun with magic dust by using it to weave enchantments and spells.
Other boys and girls Meredith’s age used magic dust all the time to weave the most amazing magic spells she had ever seen. Some children wove spells that changed them into dragons. Other children wove spells that made them invisible. And a few other children wove spells that made them glow in the dark. One girl with pigtails used magic dust to weave a spell that made her hair change colors once a minute. And one boy with a propeller hat wove a spell that helped him fly safely over the moon, although he got a little lost on reentry.
But those magic spells lasted very briefly. So the children had to get more magic dust to weave more magic spells, which meant that they had to beg their parents for a few pinches.
Parents who had bags full of magic dust gave their children whole cups to do with as they liked. Those children were often the most popular. They were also the ones who were usually the most unkind to everyone else, especially to people living on the street. Cruelly, they wasted their magic dust on silly spells right in front of little Meredith Pocket, just to show her what she was missing.
Then there were the moms and dads who had mere smidgens of magic dust. Hardly anything at all. They had to scrimp and save every pinch. They were the ones who always taught their children to use every little bit wisely. But stingy parents often made stingy children. They would hoard their magic dust and look at it and never use it, and never ever give it to anyone else either, especially to a street person like Meredith, who could have used just the tiniest dash of magic dust to weave the teeniest magic spell just to keep herself warm on the cold nights of her even colder town.
But even though she could have used some magic dust to give herself the things she needed, things like food and warmth and shelter, she also wanted to use magic dust the way other kids used it, kids who were always laughing and having fun. She wanted to turn into a dragon too, or become invisible, or fly over the moon. But she did not have any magic dust whatsoever, so she could not do any of those things. And so she spent many cold and hungry nights looking up at the stars and imagining what she might do if she had the tiniest sprinkling of that stupendously extraordinary, super-dazzlingly wonderful magic dust.
CHAPTER THREE
Meredith’s Gift
Magic dust was everywhere. It could be found on cars and carriages, on walls and walkways and windows. But it was very difficult to find because it was not in bags or pinches, but in motes, which is even smaller than a grain of sand. And the teeny-tiny, itty-bitty motes of magic dust got mixed up with all the other little motes of common dust that gathered every day on shelves and unread books. So finding a mote of magic dust was like uncovering a chip of a diamond on the shore of the sea.
When Meredith Pocket’s three friends saw tears of longing welling up in her big blue eyes, Uncle Glitch, Sir Copperpot, and Peter Butterpig decided to do something about it. They would gather up as much magic dust as they could find (despite the odds of finding even a single one) and then they would give it to little Meredith Pocket as a gift.
Since none of the townsfolk would give even so much as a mote of magic dust to two old robots and a butterpig, Meredith’s three friends spent months searching in streets, hunting through haunted houses, and combing through vast fields of jack-o-lanterns just to gather enough magic dust to fill the bottom of a small thimble. And when they had finally gathered enough dust to weave a few very basic magic spells, they gave the thimble to Meredith, not because it was her birthday, and not because it was Christmas or Hanukkah either, or any other gift-giving time of the year, but because they loved her, and they wanted to give her everything in the whole world.
Receiving that gift from her friends was the happiest day of her young life.
With tears of gratitude, she took the magic dust from the two old robots and the butterpig.
She imagined weaving a magic spell that would make her skin like a chameleon, so she could blend in wherever she went. She imagined turning herself into a hawk so she could soar high above the city. She even imagined making herself gr
ow into a giant so she could stride off to a far away kingdom. She imagined all sorts of wonderful spells she might weave with this dash of magic dust, which was much smaller than the amount many other children got every day.
But in the end, and after much thought, little Meredith Pocket decided not to weave any grand spells that would use up all her dust at once. Instead, she decided to weave several small and simple spells, ones that would use only a little bit of magic dust at a time, perhaps a few motes that might coat her fingertip like glitter, nothing more.
First, she used a sprinkle to make herself float just above the ground. She loved floating and she wished it would last forever. But the spell was so small and simple that it lasted for only one precious minute, yet it was the most wonderful minute of her life. When she gently floated back down to the ground, she hoped with all her heart that everyone could feel that way at least once in their life. She did not know if she would ever float again, but the memory of floating helped her float enough, at least on the inside. And even though other children her age were weaving spells every day to make themselves fly, she knew she would always treasure that one amazing minute for as long as she lived.
After that little floating spell, she wove a few more small and simple spells, using only a single pinch of magic dust. But this time, she did not use those pinches for herself. Instead, she used the rest of the magic dust for her three friends.
