Time Stoppers

by Carrie Jones

  “Of course.” She puffed up.

  Jamie turned pale with worry, so Annie pulled him away from the others and said, “You don’t have to come, Jamie. If it’s too much, you can totally hide here until we come back. Nobody will think worse of you. Nobody thinks badly of Eva, and she’s passed out most of the time.”

  He shook his head. “No. I’m coming.”

  They made eye contact, and Annie could tell that he meant it, even though he seemed terrified. She felt terrified, too. Trolls … She’d have to sneak into a house of trolls, but if Jamie lived with them for years, surely she could handle it for a minute. Plus, the trolls might not even see them if they were quiet enough.

  The foursome gathered, turned from the book, and started to leave.

  “Wait. There is one more thing you must know,” the book called out after them.

  Tala emitted a low, long growl and padded out of the room. The others hesitated and slowly trudged over to the book.

  Annie wanted to yank them away, push them through the door, and hurry outside. It wasn’t just that she wanted to get on with it, to save the town and Miss Cornelia before it was too late. It was something else … She didn’t trust the book completely. It demanded blood, but it wasn’t just that which made it seem so sinister. There was an energy about it—a dark feeling. Still, she followed the others back to the glass case.

  The book was cutting itself apart with a new, excited fervor. Annie checked to make sure that Eva wasn’t going to pass out again. Satisfied that the dwarf was steady on her feet, Annie turned back to the pages, which were now assembled in the shape of a thin-lipped man with close-cropped hair. Above his cheeks were two words where his eyes should have been: PAIN and DEATH. Shuddering, she barely noticed that Eva was clutching her arm.

  “It’s the Raiff,” the dwarf whispered.

  The name stirred dread in the pit of Annie’s stomach. The Raiff’s face loomed large beneath the glass. His eyes seemed to bore into hers. Then his eyes changed to read: YOUR PAIN and YOUR DEATH.

  “I have seen him before,” Annie whispered.

  “That’s impossible. He’s gone.” Eva glared at her.

  “I have, too,” Jamie agreed, whispering as well. “In a reflection and in the fountain.”

  The image crumpled. As the children watched, the paper flew and cut and splintered off, building up a battle scene. Giant monsters hacked down paper trees and lifted up bodies. Smaller figures tried to fight them, throwing paper balls of light and shooting paper arrows. Then the Raiff appeared again. He held two stones in his hand and raised his arms. The people fighting the monsters fell to the ground. The monsters loaded them into a cart, flopping paper body on top of paper body. One little child was missed, halfway hidden in a grove of ferns. Annie wondered if the others saw him there. He was sleeping with his mouth wide open, his paper chest heaving up and down.

  And then the scene was done and the pages unfolded themselves back. Bloom’s breath hitched. His face had lost its gold glow.

  Annie touched his sleeve lightly. “Bloom? Are you okay?”

  His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

  Eva spoke for him. “Those were the elves, Annie, during the Purge. That’s when the Raiff took the elves.” She cursed beneath her breath. “Murdered them all, he did. All except Bloom. He’s the last elf.”

  Eva shuffled backward a step as Bloom’s body seemed to almost hiccup in pain. Annie went to comfort him, but she didn’t know how. She settled for awkwardly patting his back.

  “I should kill you for showing us this, you horrid book!” Eva roared. She swung her ax high above the glass.

  Jamie caught her by the arm. “Don’t! You’ll let it out.”

  “We’re being much too loud,” Annie whispered as the pages created another scene. “And where’s Tala?”

  The book’s pages folded again. The paper Raiff appeared. He turned and stared up out of the book at the children and aimed his finger at them. Across the pages, the words YOU’RE NEXT appeared over and over again. They took up every speck of space and filled the pages, a swirling, horrible promise.

  The book slammed shut.

  “What … was … that … about?” Eva whispered.

  The book cackled out, “The Raiff. He is my master, the trolls’ master, and soon to be the master of us all.”

  “Let’s go.” Jamie tugged at Bloom.

  “Come on,” Annie agreed as Bloom shook himself back to normal. “Let’s run.”

  Eva groaned. “I hate running!”

  Behind them, the book began to bash itself against the side of its glass container, desperate to get free, and that was more than enough to get even the slow-footed Eva to run.

  Outside the mayor’s house, the sound of the book became a distant thud. Jamie, Annie, Eva, and Bloom all caught their breath by the front iron gate where Tala was waiting and pawing at the falling snow, anxiously. He tried to nudge them forward, farther away from the mayor’s house.

  “We’ve got to get to Jamie’s,” Annie blurted between breaths. The air felt small in her chest, like the book had somehow sucked the life out of her. The rest of them seemed to be feeling the same way. They hadn’t run long, and it made no sense that they were all huffing and puffing.

  “Jamie’s house is too far for us to walk,” Bloom said. His hand held on to the metal railing.

  Eva was bent over trying to haul in a breath. “You mean it’s too far for me. Freaking elves can run forever.”

  Bloom didn’t answer, but he caught Annie’s eye. Annie knew from his expression that it was true.

  “Do you have broomsticks or something?” Jamie suggested. He’d already recovered his breath and was standing upright again.

  Eva harrumphed. “Only witches and hags can ride those.”

  “Sorry,” Jamie muttered. “I was just trying to think of something magical and fast …”

  Annie felt sorry for him. He seemed always ready to be yelled at, like everything he said might earn him a whack on the side of the head.

  “It is a good idea,” she said. She stared meaningfully at Eva. “How about your dad’s snowmobile?”

  “We can’t,” Eva grumped. After a lot of pressing, she finally admitted, “I pretty much trashed it last flight. It needs repairs.”

  “Well …” Jamie tried to think about what he knew about dwarfs. They liked to tinker with things, to build things. They liked to be boastful, to have their pride boosted. “Your dad did an amazing job with that snowmobile. I mean, he made it fly and everything. Has he ever … um … you know? Fooled around with anything else?”

  “My father does NOT fool— Oh! Yes, skis! Bloom, you remember the skis?” Eva punched him in the thigh. He sort of toppled a bit from the force of the hit but maintained his balance.

  “I do. But those … They had some kinks if I remember.”

  Judging from the doubtful expression on his face, there were some serious kinks in the skis.

  “A dwarf does not have kinks in his magic!” Eva roared.

  Jamie jumped backward and waved his hands wildly around. “Shh … the …”

  But it was too late. Up on the hill by Miss Cornelia’s house, the swarm of black feathers had taken to the sky. And it was flying their way.

  “One day you will learn to be quiet, Eva,” Bloom said.

  “Dwarfs don’t do quiet,” she grumbled, but fear had found a place on her face.

  “It doesn’t matter. We have to go,” Annie said, opening the gate and heading onto the sidewalk. “Eva, where are the skis?”

  “At my house.” Eva led the way, breaking into a trot down the sidewalk. “Come on.”

  But Annie knew that unless Eva’s house was incredibly close, they weren’t going to make it. The Corvus Morrigan was coming for them—and it was coming fast.

  27

  Trees and Skis Don’t Mix

  “Where’s your house?” Jamie’s voice was frantic as the crow flew closer, blending into the night sky. “Where is it?�
�

  “Here.” Eva pointed to a smooth stone bump that seemed to grow out of the sidewalk. At the front of it was a heavy-looking wooden door with wrought iron bars across it. A statue of a sleeping man, who looked nothing like Eva’s father, leaned up against it. Jamie thought it was some sort of street art or a sculpture.

  “Eva, let us in!” Annie urged.

  The dwarf yanked open the door and they all rushed inside. Bloom slammed the door behind them.

  “Hurry!” he ordered. “It’ll find a way in soon enough.”

  Feathers beat against the wooden door.

  Eva hustled across a stone floor. The Beryl-Axes’ living room was dark walled and lit by large lanterns. Two huge wooden benches waited around a fire pit.

  Eva came running back with four pairs of skis. “Put ’em on,” she ordered.

  “Eva!” Bloom pointed to the fire pit and the open chimney hole above it.

  Jamie gasped. A black feather poked down from the hole.

  The Corvus Morrigan had found a way in.

  The children smashed on their skis, hooking their feet under the straps.

  “Now what?” Annie asked.

  “Press ‘FLY,’ ” Eva ordered, bending over and hitting a red button on her ski.

  She promptly flew into the door and bounced off, falling on her butt.

  “Someone open the door!” she yelled as she popped back up to a standing position.

  Jamie flung it open and Eva zoomed past him. The crow was dropping down into the room.

  “Annie!” he warned.

  She peered over her shoulder, hit the button, and zipped out. “Come on, Jamie!”

  Bloom followed behind her. Jamie hit his button. Nothing happened. The feathers fluttered closer. It was forming a beak. He hit it again.

  “PUSH HARDER!” Eva yelled from the distance.

  Jamie could smell the crow just behind him, coming closer. He smacked the button with his thumb. The skis wobbled and then lifted. He leaned forward and directed them toward the door. Before he even realized it, he was out the door and catching up to the others.

  Jamie glanced behind him. The crow was following them. It had trailed out the front door of Eva’s house and was barreling through the lightly falling snow. Tala darted back and forth to its left side, barking and trying to distract it from the kids.

  “Tala, come!” Annie yelled.

  The dog kept at it, leaping toward the Corvus Morrigan and then away.

  Jamie zoomed ahead, willing the skis to be faster. He tried to imitate the positions of downhill skiers in the Olympics. They bend forward, don’t they? Or maybe that’s the speed skaters? He wasn’t sure. He zipped over the road and through the trees behind the others. Does Eva even remember where my house is? He hoped she knew where she was going, but how could she when it was dark?

  And then he entered the forest, flying as fast as a car. The trees became deadly obstacles, but he couldn’t slow down. The beast was coming after him. He could hear the flapping of its feathers and its wicked cackle as it raced toward him.

  “Eva!” Bloom yelled in front of him. “What’s the glitch?”

  “What?” the dwarf yelled back, her stout form seeming pretty solid on the zigzagging skis. Jamie caught up to her. She was smiling.

  He quickly focused his attention forward again, which saved him from hitting a massive oak tree.

  “What’s the glitch with the skis?” Bloom asked again.

  “Oh …” The dwarf’s voice was matter-of-fact. “Only one pair stops.”

  It took a second for that to sink into Jamie’s brain. He was pretty focused on not hitting trees and not letting the Corvus Morrigan catch up. Bloom, however, instantly understood and let out a panicked, nonstop wail. Jamie added that to his mental list of elfish qualities: excellent screamers.

  “Only one pair stops? Eva, do you have any idea how fast we are going? We could die if we don’t stop. We could hit a tree—” Bloom ranted.

  “Technically, hitting a tree counts as stopping,” Eva interrupted the elf. “So, if we all hit trees, then all the skis stop. Technically.”

  Bloom kept yelling right over her. “Annie and Jamie have human bodies. HUMAN! Do you know what that means? That means they are vulnerable. How are they going to stop, Eva? How? Without getting hurt? Explain that to me.”

  Eva glared at him. “You don’t think I have this under control?”

  Annie had dropped behind a little bit. She was still ahead of the crow, but just barely. Before them was a small one-lane bridge made of bright-green metal. The brook beneath it was wide, edged with big granite stones that gave way to smaller pebbles. A slight film of ice had formed on the top of the brook, but water babbled beneath.

  “No! I am having some major doubts about not just your ability but your sanity!” Bloom yelled.

  “Ha!” Eva slammed to a stop beneath the bridge. She shoved out a stout arm and caught Bloom by the edge of his cloak. He whirled around, jerking from the impact, but also stopped.

  Jamie’s eyes opened in fear. He was barreling straight for them. Eva snatched him by the wrist. His arm practically jolted out of the socket, but he stopped as well.

  “There!” Eva said triumphantly.

  “Eva?! What are you doing? The monster is right behind us, and Annie …”

  As Bloom said it, Annie rushed toward them. She smashed into Bloom. Jamie watched horrified as Annie and Bloom somersaulted through the air, a tangle of skis and limbs, before they landed with a painful-sounding thud on the other side of the bridge.

  “See! Everyone stopped!” Eva yelled.

  “Eva … the crow …” Fear quieted Jamie’s voice, but Eva still heard it.

  She muttered a dwarf curse and pulled out her ax.

  “You have to stop time, Annie!” Jamie yelled.

  Annie didn’t answer.

  “Annie! Do your thing! Stop time!”

  “She’s unconscious!” Bloom yelled.

  Jamie cast a glance back. The elf was cradling Annie’s head in his hands. She was bleeding a bit.

  There was no time to act … no time to do anything … The crow was there. Right there! It was up to him to save everyone.

  “Stop!” Jamie yelled.

  Eva snorted. Nothing happened. The world kept going. The crow hovered on the side of the brook bed. It formed an eye. The blackness of it was so deep, so terrifying.

  “Stop!” Jamie tried again. If Annie can stop time, maybe I can. Maybe …

  “Come closer, you lousy monster,” Eva yelled and started to edge her skis nearer to the crow. “Let me have a piece of you!”

  “Eva!” Jamie grabbed her arm.

  “I’m going to go get that darn thing,” she sputtered, but she didn’t try too hard to pull away, and Jamie was pretty sure she could break free from his grip if she really wanted to. Her voice broke. “It’s been screwing up the whole town. It froze my freaking dad, Jamie.”

  “But it’s stuck,” Jamie said. “See? It’s not moving across the water.”

  It was true. The crow was fluttering and flustering along the side of the brook, but it didn’t actually cross the water.

  Eva preened. “Some monsters are like that. They can’t cross running water. Holy cat shifters. That’s awesome.”

  She tugged loose from Jamie and skied right up to the edge of the brook. She stuck out her tongue. “Ha! Aren’t such a toughie crow monster now, are you? Can’t even cross a baby brook.”

  The crow morphed its shape. Its feathers formed a giant mouth. “You will die, dwarf.”

  “Oh, please … ,” Eva taunted. “You can’t kill anyone. You just freeze them in feathers, surround them with your magic, and trolls do the actual killing. What kind of monster are you, really, huh? A wussy monster, that’s what. I would totally kick you in the neck if you had one.”

  The monster roared. The sound filled the forest. Then it smiled.

  “Oh … scary,” Eva said.

  “Eva … ,” Jamie said her nam
e like a warning. He knew taunting a bully never ended well.

  “It wasn’t meant to be scary,” the crow cawed. “It was meant to call the others.”

  “The others?” Jamie sputtered.

  “From your side of the brook. The ones who will finish the killing.” It laughed as Jamie stumbled backward. He lost his skis in the cold water and stepped back onto the bank.

  “Eva … Eva … we should go,” he urged.

  The dwarf caught him up and shoved him behind her, ignoring the crow.

  “Is Annie still out cold?” Eva asked.

  “Yes.” Bloom’s lips formed a tight, concerned line.

  “We have to go,” Jamie said. “I don’t want to stick around and find out who the others are.”

  “Me, neither,” Bloom answered, standing up. “I’ll carry her. Let’s go.” He lifted Annie in his arms as if she weighed nothing.

  Jamie added that to his elf list: elves are strong.

  Bloom started off. Jamie hoped he was going in the right direction. Maybe elves have good directional sense, too? They seem good at everything. Jamie would like to be good at everything. He stood on the backs of Eva’s skis and held on to her waist. The skis seemed even faster when he wasn’t the one in charge.

  “Bloom didn’t even wait,” Eva gruffed as they flew after him. “Freaking elves.”

  “Hey, Eva,” Jamie said. “You didn’t pass out when you saw the crow.”

  He could hear the smile in her voice. “I didn’t, did I? Ha.”

  Jamie smiled, too, but it only lasted a second, because he remembered where they were going: home. His home and to his grandmother.

  Bloom skied up to them. Annie was slung upside down and over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Each duo went around a different side of a tree. “Have you seen Tala?”

  Jamie shook his head, remembering the dog trying to bait the monster away from them. “No.”

  Bloom’s eyes narrowed like he was angry and tired and determined all at once.

  “We’ve got to watch out for the crow’s friends,” he ordered.

  “What do you think it meant by that exactly?” Jamie asked through the darkness and the driving snow.

  The elf readjusted Annie on his shoulder. “I don’t know, but it can’t be good.”