Mrs. Arthur checked on Glenn one last time—he was doing fine, she said—and announced she was going to sleep as well. “It’s too dark and cold to do anything else,” Mac agreed. “I’ll lock the doors.”
Robert and Karina weren’t ready to sleep just yet, so they climbed to the tops of the bleachers, where their conversation wouldn’t disturb the others. They were so far from the lantern, they were practically in the dark.
“Some slumber party, huh?” Robert asked.
“It’s definitely a night to remember,” Karina said.
He pointed down to Miss Carcasse, sleeping with both hands folded in her lap, like a corpse on display at a funeral. “Do you think it’s safe to go to bed? Will she try anything?”
“She can barely walk,” Karina reminded him. “Heck, she can’t even lift a fork. By the time we wake up, I bet she’s nothing but a pile of worms.”
Robert knew Karina was right. As long as the doors stayed locked and the lantern stayed on, they had nothing to worry about. “I can’t believe I’m going to spend the night in Lovecraft Middle School,” he said. “What would you be doing if we weren’t here?”
“Oh, the usual stuff. Floating up and down the hallways. Moaning and wailing and rattling my chains. It’s a very exciting life, being a ghost.”
“I’m serious,” Robert said.
“You want the truth? I know this has been a tough day. Between the blizzard and the car accident and the ice cavern and now poor Glenn. But having you and your mom around like this? Sitting down at a table for a homemade dinner? And camping out in the gymnasium? It’s been a real blast. I’ll be sorry tomorrow when you have to leave.”
Robert realized this was the opportunity he’d been waiting for that morning—the perfect chance to give Karina the Valentine’s Day card. But since it had vanished from his backpack, all he had to give her was a shrug. And this made him angry, because he felt she deserved better.
“I’ll be sorry tomorrow when you can’t come with us,” he said. “It’s not fair that you’re stuck here.”
“At least tomorrow’s still a long way off,” she said.
They sat on the bleachers for a long time afterward, not saying anything else, and finally they walked down to their mats. Robert wriggled into a plastic trash bag, pulled a theater drape over his body, and used his backpack as a pillow. It was probably the most uncomfortable “bed” he’d ever crawled into, and yet he fell asleep almost instantly.
Robert awoke to bristles tickling his face, as if someone was dabbing his cheek with a paintbrush. He opened his eyes and realized Pip and Squeak were sitting on his neck, nudging him with their noses.
It was the middle of the night. He pushed off the drape and sat up. The clock above the scoreboard read 3:30. Lionel, Mac, and Glenn were still asleep. The rats were pacing in circles at his feet, frenzied with excitement.
“How did you get in here?” he whispered.
Come, come, light, light, light.
Robert wriggled out of the trash bag and stood up. Somehow the door to the gymnasium was wide open, even though he was certain he’d seen Mac lock it.
“Is it the propane? Are the lights off?”
No worse much worse. It’s the lady.
Robert glanced at the three mats on the other side of the gymnasium. He recognized his mother and Karina, but Miss Carcasse’s mat was empty.
Come come come, the rats called, already scampering toward the door. Robert grabbed a flashlight and hesitated. He wished he could bring help, but Glenn needed his rest and he didn’t dare wake Karina, not with his mother sleeping so close. He would have to go alone.
Pip and Squeak led him out of the gymnasium and through the east wing of the school. Robert switched on his flashlight and saw the lockers were covered in frost; somehow the temperature inside the school had fallen to below freezing. He could see the breath coming out of his own mouth.
All the doors he’d closed earlier had been reopened; Robert peered into a classroom and saw that its windows were open. All the classrooms had their windows wide open.
As they approached the chemistry lab, Robert heard a voice echoing through the darkness. “Antra gnomorum! Veni, veni, veni! Expergisciimini!” The language sounded ancient and incomprehensible, but Robert knew he recognized the speaker.
He stopped in the doorway. All the Bunsen burners were extinguished; the laboratory was dark. The drifts were even deeper now, knee-high in places. Miss Carcasse stood before the shattered windows, calling out into the night.
“Veni, veni, veni! Coventus Gnomorum!”
One of the furry white creatures climbed through the broken window and hopped down to the laboratory floor, waddling toward Miss Carcasse on its short stubby legs. Another creature, even bigger than the first, followed behind. This one carried Professor Dyer’s tibia over its shoulder, brandishing the bone like a club.
Robert flipped on the flashlight and the Old Ones shrieked, shielding their eyes and toppling backward.
“Turn that off!” Miss Carcasse yelled.
He no longer recognized her. She limped toward him, shambling forward, her pursed lips twisted into an evil, demented grin. Her skin was pale and punctuated with throbbing blue veins. Worms wriggled from her ears and fell to the floor. A long string of black ooze drained from her nostrils.
“Don’t let my appearance trouble you,” she explained. “This vessel has never fit me properly. But now that the gnomorum have risen, I no longer need it!” She held up her hands and out popped ten sharp fingernails, like a cat springing its claws.
She pounced toward Robert and he darted away, with Pip and Squeak racing alongside him. He realized too late that his best hope was to return to the gymnasium, but he was already running in the wrong direction. Miss Carcasse was chasing after him, cackling madly. The corridor ended at the Music Room; Robert hurried inside, closed the door, and locked it.
Keys, keys, she has keys, Pip and Squeak warned.
Of course. Miss Carcasse had stolen Mac’s keys to unlock the doors to the gymnasium. And now she would unlock the door to the Music Room, too. Already, he could hear her fumbling with the lock, trying the keys one by one.
“The Old Ones have been dormant for centuries!” she called out. “They need sustenance, Robert! They’re hungry! That’s why Master sent me out in the blizzard—to trap live meat for the Old Ones to feast upon! You and your companions will make an excellent meal!”
Robert aimed his flashlight around the room. The marble busts of Mozart and Beethoven stared down with their stern expressions. The room had no windows and no other exits.
They were trapped.
“Find someplace to hide,” he told Pip and Squeak. “Don’t worry about me. Just get out of here.”
They all fumbled around in the dark, colliding with folding chairs and toppling music stands. Pip and Squeak wriggled inside the bell of a trombone. Robert tripped over a tangle of rope and fell to the floor. He realized the rope was attached to a giant cardboard Cupid, the same cheesy prop that had descended from the rafters during the Valentine’s Day concert.
It gave Robert an idea.
He knelt down to examine the rope. It was only an inch thick—not ideal, but hopefully it was strong enough. A few knots were tied in its length, and Robert tied off some more. Then he ran into the wardrobe and hid among the chorus robes. He left the flashlight on so it would be easy for Miss Carcasse to find him.
A minute later, she arrived in the wardrobe, along with some two dozen snarling and snapping creatures. The Old Ones were ravenously hungry … and Robert’s flashlight was the only thing keeping them at a distance.
“Turn off the light,” Miss Carcasse told him. “I promise death will be instantaneous. They’ll strip the meat from your bones in minutes. And what an honorable way to die! At last, your wasted human flesh can fulfill a higher purpose! Ave, ave Gnomorum! Ave Gnomorum!”
More and more creatures were pushing and shoving their way into the wardrobe, climbing on t
op of one another, filling the space with their awful pungent odor.
Miss Carcasse stepped forward with the same weird demonic grin, as if it were frozen in place.
“Turn off the light,” she repeated. “Surrender to us!”
Robert knew he had to time his next move exactly. He allowed Miss Carcasse to get closer—close enough that he could smell her hideous perfume. Then he switched off the light and leaned backward, falling into the rack of chorus robes.
By the time Miss Carcasse pounced, Robert was already outside, four stories above the school and falling fast. This time, the high ledge surrounding Lovecraft Middle School was buried beneath icy snowdrifts, leaving no place for him to land.
But it didn’t matter. His body hung suspended in midair, spinning in the wind. One end of the knotted rope was woven through his belt loops in a sort of harness; the other end was back in the wardrobe, anchored to a railing.
Miss Carcasse didn’t have time to realize how she’d been tricked. She followed Robert through the vortex and shrieked as she tumbled past him, reaching out with her clawed fingers. “No!” she shrieked. “Valete Gnomorummmmmmm …”
Robert looked away before she hit the icy ground below.
Now for the hard part, Robert thought. He shoved the flashlight in his back pocket and then grabbed the knots in the rope, pulling himself up, hand over hand. He used the tips he’d learned in gym class: climb with your legs, not your arms. Pinch the rope with your feet. Step on the knots. It wasn’t easy, but the centripetal force of the vortex helped him along, offsetting gravity, reeling him up like a fish on a line.
After surfacing in the wardrobe closet and untying the rope, Robert realized his problems were far from over. Yes, Miss Carcasse was gone—but now hundreds of Old Ones were loose in the school, and Robert could hear them wreaking havoc in the Music Room. He stepped into the chaos and turned on the flashlight. The creatures were stomping on the piano keys and pulling apart the cardboard cupid, breaking off its arms and legs, eating its limbs. Others were gnawing on the marble busts of Mozart and Beethoven, trying to chew off their faces. Still more were banging the trombone on the floor, trying to shake Pip and Squeak from their hiding place.
But on Robert’s arrival they all stopped, set aside their distractions, and advanced toward him.
“Stay back!” he warned, waving his flashlight back and forth. It was like fending off a pack of wild dogs with a whiffle ball bat. The creatures kept advancing, saliva dripping from their jaws, their stumpy arms reaching toward him.
Robert kept his back to the wall, inching out of the room and into the hallway, but the entire herd followed along. He couldn’t outrun them and he couldn’t outfight them. He needed light—and dawn was still several hours away.
More Old Ones were waiting in the hallway, and Robert realized he had unwittingly placed himself in the center of the pack. Now he had creatures behind him and creatures advancing toward him—but only one flashlight.
A glowing red EXIT sign alerted him to an emergency access door. Robert dreaded the idea of going into the blizzard, but he didn’t have a choice. The creatures were closing in. He backed up against the door, hitting the push bar with his elbow. The lock seemed to release but the door wouldn’t budge. Robert tried again, hitting it harder, throwing his weight against it. He realized there was too much snow on the opposite side—the drifts were barricading the exit.
The Old Ones seemed to understand his predicament; their black eyes twinkled with amusement as they closed ranks, standing body to body, leaving him nowhere to run.
And then a voice cut through the darkness.
“Sistite! Discumbere gnomorum!”
At once, the creatures dropped to their knees, lowering their foreheads to the floor.
A tall slender man emerged from the shadows. He was dressed in a black suit and held a single candle that illuminated his face. He was old, with pale skin stretched tightly across his cheeks. “Don’t mind the Old Ones. They’re nasty creatures, but they’ll behave if you show them who’s boss.”
“You’re their boss?” Robert asked.
“In a manner of speaking.” The old man extended his hand and smiled. “I’m Crawford Tillinghast.”
After hearing so much about Crawford Tillinghast for so long, Robert was surprised to see that the man was really just a thin, pale, flesh-and-blood human being—not unlike the old men who paraded through the school on Grandparents Day.
Except Tillinghast had a strength and confidence that those other old men hadn’t possessed in years. When he shook Robert’s hand, he held it an extra moment, squeezing harder, just to prove his point. Then he released his grip and smiled, revealing two crooked rows of yellowed teeth.
“Aperi portam!” he commanded, and a large gate materialized before them, spanning the full width of the hallway. The Old Ones responded with excited chirps and chattering, and Tillinghast beckoned them forward. “Itinere gnomorum! Itinere!”
The Old Ones broke into a stampede, pushing, shoving, and climbing over one another to reach the gate. They entered three or four at a time and immediately vanished, crossing over to the next dimension. Tillinghast watched them with pride, like a parent admiring his own children. The entire herd vanished in a matter of moments; soon all that remained of them was their awful pungent odor.
Tillinghast shouted a second incantation—“Claude ostium!”—and the gate dissolved, folding upon itself like an eyelid blinking shut. He sighed with tremendous satisfaction, as if a monumental task had finally been completed.
Then he set off down the hallway.
“Come,” he told Robert.
Tillinghast opened the nearest door, leading them into the office of a guidance counselor. On the walls were framed photographs of waterfalls, lighthouses, and soaring eagles. Tillinghast sat in a tall leather-backed chair and placed the candle on an end table.
“Sit,” he said.
Robert perched on the edge of a comfortable leather sofa. He was very tired but too scared to sit back and relax.
“Would you like something to drink? A glass of water?”
“No, thanks,” Robert said.
Tillinghast removed an ancient-looking vial from his jacket and unscrewed the cap. “Well, forgive me if I indulge,” he sighed. “It’s been a long day.”
Robert looked down at his lap. His hands were shaking. He had faced so many terrible creatures in the past six months—but none quite so frightening as the old man sitting in the guidance counselor’s chair.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” Tillinghast said. “I just saved your life, remember?”
Robert didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say.
“Don’t look at your lap. Look at me. I want to have a conversation.”
Robert looked up but couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact. He looked past Tillinghast, over his shoulder, through a window overlooking the parking lot.
Outside, the snow had stopped falling.
“I gather you’ve heard some nasty things about me,” Tillinghast continued. “People getting kidnapped and stuffed into urns, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.” He sighed. “The truth is, I’m a very generous person. I believe I can help you—if you’re willing to discuss things.”
Robert whispered the first response that came to mind: “Is the storm over?”
“Very good! Excellent question! Yes, the storm has moved out to sea. The great migration is complete. The Old Ones are safe in my mansion at last.”
“Where did they come from?”
“Right here in Dunwich. Thousands of years ago, this part of the continent was teeming with them. But they moved underground when the glaciers melted.” Tillinghast tipped back his head and drained the vial in a single swallow. “They’re magnificent warriors but far from perfect. Two millennia of subterranean dwelling has ruined their eyesight. And they can’t tolerate any climate that isn’t freezing. Put them somewhere at room temperature and they shrivel up like raisins. That’s why
they’ve spent the past two thousand years in hibernation. Our planet has been too warm.”
“So you manufactured a blizzard?” Robert asked.
“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” Tillinghast said. “First, I manufactured a climate-controlled chamber in my dimension. A place where the Old Ones can train and hopefully evolve to tolerate higher temperatures. The snowstorm was simply a means for getting them from Point A to Point B. I needed the ground to be freezing, and I needed the school to be chilled.”
The longer Tillinghast spoke, the more Robert relaxed. “So, Miss Carcasse was helping you?”
“That’s right. While you were all distracted by the arrival of Glenn Torkells, she walked around the school, opening windows and doors. Lowering the temperature to zero degrees Celsius.” Tillinghast capped the empty vial and placed it in his pocket. “I don’t appreciate the little trick you played on her, by the way. She wasn’t bright, but she fulfilled her duties admirably.”
“She was trying to feed me to your monsters,” Robert reminded him.
Tillinghast smiled. “You’re a smart boy. I’ve been watching you for several months. No child or adult has ever outwitted one of my associates, but somehow you’ve foiled six of them. Professor Goyle, Sarah and Sylvia Price, Howard Mergler, Nurse Mandis, and now Miss Carcasse. For a twelve-year-old, you’re quite impressive.”
“I’m just trying to stay alive,” Robert said.
“I can arrange for that,” Tillinghast offered. “If you’re willing to help me.”
“Why should I do that?”
“For starters, I’ve kept the Old Ones from eating your friends in the gymnasium. I’d say that deserves a thank-you. But I have an even better proposal.”
He reached into his coat pocket and removed a red envelope—the valentine that Robert had purchased for Karina.
“Where did you find that?”
“Like I said, I’ve been watching you a long time. While you and Glenn were flailing about on the ledge, I took the liberty of going through your backpack. I hope you don’t mind.” He returned the card to Robert. “Has she told you she’s in limbo?”
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