Clash of the Worlds

by Chris Columbus

  But it slowly got easier as Cordelia began identifying the way Denver formed the more common letter and word combinations. And she eventually made several significant discoveries: For one thing, Denver created the magic realm of his book world specifically to hide The Book of Doom and Desire. He thought it would be as good as making it disappear entirely, while still allowing him to retrieve it should he ever need to again. Furthermore, Denver had always suspected that traveling frequently back and forth between the two worlds might start to corrupt the magic behind it all. The Walkers, Will Draper, the Wind Witch, and artifacts like the Nazi treasure map were never meant to go back and forth as many times as they had. Which was likely partly responsible for how Fat Jagger and the frost beast ended up in San Francisco.

  Cordelia was only a few pages into the Journal; there was clearly so much more to learn, so much more inside the book that would help them with their current predicament. She had just found the section on the Worldkeepers, when Eleanor’s horrified scream ripped her from the pages.

  “Deal!” Eleanor gasped.

  “Don’t interrupt me,” Cordelia said. “I’m trying to concentrate. . . .”

  “Your eyes!” Eleanor yelled.

  Cordelia looked up, confused. Her eyes felt just fine.

  “What’s wrong with my eyes?” she asked.

  Brendan was staring at her now as well, the same horrified expression on his face. They both rose to their feet, and Cordelia’s stomach dropped. She felt the panic rising in her throat.

  “What is it?” she asked again. “Will someone please tell me?”

  “Your eyes, Deal,” Brendan said. “They’re . . . blue!”

  “Of course they’re blue!” Cordelia said. “Has it really taken you twelve years to notice that?”

  That’s when Brendan walked over and put his hands on her shoulders.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Trust me,” Brendan said softly. “You need to see this.”

  He steered her over to the large mirror with the ornate gold frame hanging on the wall by the fireplace. He positioned her right in front of it so she had to look at herself.

  Cordelia screamed in terror.

  Cordelia’s eyes were completely blue, from eyelid to eyelid. Not just blue, but almost translucent and sparkling like an ice-covered lake. It was almost as if her eyes had been frozen right inside her skull.

  She stopped screaming abruptly, realizing exactly what was happening: The Wind Witch was possessing her right at that very moment!

  She took several steps away from Brendan, who looked even more frightened and confused than ever.

  “Stay back!” she shouted.

  “Deal, we’re just trying to help you,” he said.

  “Yeah, we don’t want to hurt you,” Eleanor pleaded. “We’re just worried about you.”

  “It’s not me I’m concerned about,” Cordelia said. “It’s you!”

  “Huh?” Brendan said. “No offense, Deal, but even though I’m three years younger, two years of lacrosse have molded me into a compacted brute of pure strength. In fact, some would say I’m more muscle than man—”

  Cordelia shook her head vigorously. The blue in her eyes began to fade, but her face was still contorted with panic. “You might be able to take me in a fight,” she interrupted. “But not the Wind Witch!”

  “She’s inside of your head again?” Brendan asked.

  Cordelia nodded, her eyes slowly recovering their natural color.

  “Don’t you remember?” Cordelia asked. “She and I are linked forever now. It’s how I was able to see what she was seeing in my dream last night.”

  “So it’s like having some disease that can just come back at any time?” Brendan ventured. “Like Uncle Frank’s bad breath?”

  “Unfortunately, it seems that way,” Cordelia said.

  “Well, you can relax for now,” Brendan said. “Your normal, pretty blue eyes are back.”

  “Wait, did you just call my eyes pretty?” Cordelia asked, smiling in spite of the situation.

  “No!” Brendan said hastily. “I said . . . I said . . . creepy blue eyes.”

  “Anyway, the Wind Witch isn’t in your head anymore,” Eleanor said.

  “For now,” Cordelia added bleakly. “But there’s no way I can read this anymore.” She thrust Denver’s Journal toward Brendan. “Keep it far away from me. From now on, you’re going to have to be the one to read it and take charge.”

  Brendan shook his head and refused to take the book at first. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help, or was too lazy to read a book, but deep down he was simply afraid. He was afraid that if he were the one in charge, making all the decisions, then it would be his fault if his sisters were injured. He was worried he might lead them all right into danger, like he had done last time they were in the book world. His brief flirtation with power in ancient Rome had nearly gotten him eaten by a pair of angry lions. Which had only served to amplify his omnipresent self-doubt.

  “Look, if I read this book, and I formulate the plans, then the Wind Witch might know what we’re doing.” Cordelia continued pleading her case. “She can see what I see. And she knows the book world better than the three of us combined. We’d always be one step behind her. She would surely find the Worldkeepers first and our mission would be over . . . and so would the world as we know it.”

  “Are you sure you want me to do this?” Brendan asked, still hoping for a way out. “What about Nell?”

  “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Cordelia said, as if Eleanor wasn’t still sitting right there. “It’s all on you, Bren. And if you see my eyes turn again, you can’t even talk about what you’ve read or what you’ve found out. That goes for you too, Nell.”

  Eleanor nodded, but was feeling pretty hurt that Cordelia hadn’t even considered giving the book to her. She wasn’t as helpless as her older sister must have thought she was. She had been making a lot of progress with her reading lately.

  Brendan looked at the old book uneasily, still tempted to pass it right back to Cordelia like a hot potato. But the look on her face told him to not even attempt it. He could see how much it bothered her to give up the responsibility of reading it. In fact, it was the last thing he ever suspected Cordelia would do.

  Cordelia was almost in tears now. It was more than just being afraid that without her help and guidance they would fail—although certainly part of her believed that was true. She was always the leader; after all, she always took charge and Brendan and Eleanor simply weren’t accustomed to the role. But what was truly bothering her, tearing her up inside, was the helplessness she suddenly felt, the sense that she was being forced to abandon her siblings. Because the truth was, she relished being the leader partly out of an innate sense of responsibility to protect her younger brother and sister, like a bear protecting its cubs. She had always felt that way—as the oldest, their safety was always in her hands—whether it was at the public pool when they were younger, or in a magical book world fighting off bloodthirsty villains. But now she felt completely helpless to protect them, and nothing had ever felt worse.

  “It’s okay, Deal,” Brendan said, patting her shoulder awkwardly. “We got this! Don’t we, Nell?”

  Eleanor merely shrugged; still miffed.

  “I believe in you, Bren,” Cordelia said.

  “You totally should,” Brendan lied, trying desperately to muster up the same belief in himself. “There’s no way we’re going to let the Wind Witch stand in the way—”

  But he didn’t get to finish his sentence. Because a cold, evil voice behind them abruptly ended the conversation.

  “Did someone just say my name?” the Wind Witch asked from the foyer.

  The Wind Witch hovered behind them near the still-locked front door. Her face was as hideous as ever, the decaying skin stretched across her skull like an undercooked Thanksgiving turkey. She floated effortlessly, grinning at the Walker children as if she were trying to show off as ma
ny of her yellow and crooked teeth as she possibly could.

  “No hugs and kisses for your dear old great-great-grandmother?” she asked, spreading her arms like she expected them to come running toward her.

  “You’re not welcome here,” Cordelia said softly.

  “Yeah,” Brendan added. “Go back to your sad little pretend life in this pretend world where nothing is real.”

  “You see, that’s where you’re wrong, you ugly little boy,” the Wind Witch said, still smirking. “If this place doesn’t really matter, why did you three brats come back?”

  The Walker kids exchanged a glance, not certain what lie to offer.

  “No need to lie,” the Wind Witch said, reading their expression like a traffic sign. “I already know why you’re here, why you have once again invaded my world. Cordelia was kind enough to show me, while reading that book.”

  Cordelia shook her head, close to tears. The guilt at having already given away important information to the Wind Witch ate at her conscience. How could she not have realized the danger sooner?

  “Yes, I read many interesting things while seeing through Cordelia’s eyes,” the Wind Witch bragged. “But do you know the most fascinating thing I learned?”

  “What’s that?” Brendan asked.

  “The Worldkeepers,” the Wind Witch said calmly, still grinning.

  “Worldkeepers?” Brendan repeated unconvincingly. “What’s that? Like some kind of supergoalie?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me!” the Wind Witch hissed, and as she swooped in closer to the three Walker children, they all flinched. “I read the words myself, and they were written in my father’s handwriting!”

  “Then you know as much as we do,” Cordelia said. “In case you forgot, my reading was rudely interrupted when I was possessed by an evil, soulless harpy.”

  The Wind Witch seemed amused by Cordelia’s words. She floated down so her feet were nearly touching the floor.

  “I also know that you resurrected my father and spoke with him,” she finally said. Her voice turned earnest. “How else could you have gotten here? But do you really think you can trust him? After all, he’s to blame for me turning into . . . this. It’s his fault that all of this has happened. So whatever it is that he’s told you, do you really think he actually wants to help you? He’s using you to get the Worldkeepers for himself . . . as part of some terrible plan. My father cannot be trusted.”

  “Maybe that’s true,” Eleanor said, speaking for the first time. “But how can you expect us to trust you either? After everything you’ve done to us. You tried to kill us all last time we were here!”

  “Valid point,” the Wind Witch said. “But—and this is hard for me to admit—since then . . . you little brats have grown on me.”

  “She’s lying,” Cordelia said.

  “Definitely,” Brendan agreed.

  “No, it’s true,” the Wind Witch insisted. “I’m very lonely here. And I’ve grown rather fond of you three. We are family after all. I’d hate to see you all perish, which is surely what will happen should you continue to let my father manipulate you. And that’s why I’d like to offer you a deal.”

  “What kind of deal?” Eleanor asked.

  “Nell, you can’t be serious?” Cordelia shrieked. “There’s no way we’d accept a deal from her, no matter what she offers.”

  “It doesn’t hurt to at least listen!” Eleanor said back defiantly. “I’m tired of being bossed around. I’m my own person, you know.”

  “Nell has a point,” Brendan said.

  Cordelia stood there and looked back and forth between her sister’s and brother’s faces, not believing what she was hearing. There was no way they would ever cut any kind of deal with the Wind Witch. Ever. So why bother even listening to her at all? But she also realized she had just been outvoted. So she crossed her arms and waited, still fuming inside.

  “If you help me get to the Worldkeepers first, I can save your colossus friend,” the Wind Witch said. “But beyond restoring his life, I can offer something even more remarkable.”

  “What’s that?” Eleanor asked.

  “I can turn him into a real human,” the Wind Witch said. “He can come to your world and live with you and be your real friend.”

  “Really?” Eleanor’s eyes seemed to light up in a way Brendan and Cordelia had never seen before and they found unsettling. “He can be . . . real? An actual friend?”

  “And what would you do with the Worldkeepers?” Cordelia asked, trying to ignore Eleanor’s hopeful enthusiasm.

  “I want to put an end to the book world,” the Wind Witch answered.

  “Why?” Cordelia asked. “You have so much power here. . . . That’s all you want after all, isn’t it? More power?”

  “No, I want to end it because we’re all trapped in here like prisoners,” the Wind Witch said, actual emotion creeping into her voice. “It’s inhumane, really. Even your friends Felix and Will are not happy here. How could they be? Knowing that their entire existence is an illusion, that they are merely characters from my father’s imagination. These character were never meant to exist like this. . . .”

  “So what could you do for them?” Brendan asked. “You can’t make them real.”

  “Oh, but I can,” the Wind Witch said. “Just like Fat Jagger. I can make all the characters here real. Will and Felix and anyone else you’d like to be with . . . help me and you can be reunited with your best friends in the real world. It will be glorious.”

  Nobody spoke for several moments. Cordelia stood there shaking her head. Making Denver’s characters real was a terrible idea. He wrote more villains and monsters into his books than he did courageous, good-hearted heroes like Will Draper. The bad guys always outnumbered the good guys in old, pulpy adventure books. Everyone knew that.

  A tear ran down Eleanor’s cheek. The memory of watching Fat Jagger die was still too fresh.

  “You can really save Fat Jagger?” Eleanor asked.

  “Of course I can, sweet child,” the Wind Witch said.

  Cordelia and Brendan exchanged a glance, both knowing this could be trouble.

  “Nell!” Cordelia finally said, shaking her gently. “You can’t seriously be considering what she’s saying.”

  “Yeah, this is the Wind Witch!” Brendan added. “The same crooked old monster who stabbed me, your brother, in the heart! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  Eleanor looked down and shook her head. She seemed to be coming to her senses. It was hard not to be tempted though.

  “It means everything to me, Bren,” Eleanor said, “I love you.”

  Then she turned and looked directly into the Wind Witch’s cold eyes.

  “We will never help you,” Eleanor said. “I can’t let you come between me and my family. My brother and sister are right. You’re evil. That’s all you are. Nothing but a twisted and sad old creature.”

  The Wind Witch lifted her chin defiantly and rose up toward the high ceiling of the grand Kristoff House living room. She sneered at them and her eyes glowed icy blue—just like Cordelia’s when the Wind Witch was inside her head. The temperature in the room dropped noticeably, and Cordelia swore she could even see her own breath.

  “Fine,” the Wind Witch snarled. “I tried to make this easy on you. But if you want to do this the hard way, it would be my pleasure. I’ll simply take that book from your cold, dead hands!”

  She raised her arms and swirls of wind developed inside the house, sending paintings flying until they smashed into the walls across the room from where they’d been hanging, shattering into a tangled mess of canvas and splintered frames. The large chair between Cordelia and Brendan slid across the floor and crashed into the fireplace hard enough to knock the decorative silver-and-brass clock off the mantel. It hit the floor and shattered, putting a softball-sized crater in the hardwood in the process.

  Blue balls of light developed on the Wind Witch’s palms. They glowed and crackled with energy as more swirls of win
d developed around them. The balls of light grew and lit up the Wind Witch’s face, which was grinning sickly, now a contorted mess of pure hatred and menace.

  And then she descended on the three small Walker children with all her force. There was nothing they could do but cower together by the large sofa and hope that their impending death would be swift.

  The Wind Witch dove toward the Walker children, bringing her powerful orbs of blue energy and winds strong enough to skin an alligator with ease. But as she neared, even as everything else in the room seemed to shred in the wake of this tornado tearing through Kristoff House, the children became aware of a growing sense of calm.

  The spot where the three Walkers stood was somehow protected, almost as if they were in the eye of a storm.

  And then, just as suddenly, the old crone was being blasted backward toward the fireplace by an unseen force. A look of shock on her face told the children that she had no idea what was happening.

  She was sucked into the open fireplace and then whisked up the chimney as if being shot from a cannon.

  One last gust of wind whistled down through the chimney, carrying the fading voice of the Wind Witch with it.

  “I will be back . . . and I will find a way to get my hands on the Worldkeepeeeeersss. . . .”

  And then, all was quiet.

  “What just happened?” Brendan finally asked. “I thought we were going to get vaporized!”

  Cordelia stood there with a look of terror on her face for several seconds, as if she was still in shock, before finally shaking it away. Then relief flooded into her eyes as she hugged a dazed-looking Eleanor.

  “I thought we were dead for sure,” Cordelia said. “But . . . now that I think of it, we really had nothing to fear.”

  “What do you mean?” Brendan asked.

  “She can’t hurt us, remember?” Cordelia said.