“You have?”
“Yep. We’re staying in Bickleburgh.”
“Seriously?”
Leslie’s mother nodded again. “I decided that maybe you’re right. Maybe the reason nothing seems to work out the way I plan is because I never give it enough time. But there’s also another reason we’re gonna stay.”
“What is it?”
“Your grandfather. He had to go away for a while and he wants me to take over the restaurant.”
“He went away? He didn’t even say goodbye.”
“Whatever it was, it sounded quite urgent. He left in a terrible rush.”
“But wait, how’re you gonna run the restaurant? Do you know anything about cooking?”
“Sure I do!” Leslie’s mother put her hands on her hips. “Believe it or not, I learned a thing or two from Famous Freddy. In fact, I’ll bet my pork dumplings are every bit as good as his.”
At the mention of pork dumplings, all the creatures crowded around them.
“Now, them’s fightin’ words,” said Patti. “Y’all really think your cooking’s as good as Freddy’s?’
“Perhaps,” said Jean-Remy. “But you should really let us be ze judges of zat.”
Elliot’s parents couldn’t help overhearing.
“This is that restaurant Elliot’s been telling us about, isn’t it?” asked his father.
Elliot’s mother seemed impressed by the number of creatures clamoring (and slobbering) to eat at this odd little place. She looked at her husband. “What do you think, honey? Shall we give it a try?”
Leslie was worried. “Mom, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Let’s all go down to the restaurant,” she answered confidently. “I’ll show you what I know!”
As she said this, Professor von Doppler finally awoke. He sat bolt upright and shouted, “It’s up to us to save the—oh. I missed it again, didn’t I?”
“Kind of,” said Elliot. “But look on the bright side. You’re just in time for Famous Freddy’s.”
They all went together—creatures, executives, shareholders, inventors, regimental bombastadons, and the regular people of Bickleburgh—all marching through the streets to Famous Freddy’s Dim Sum Emporium. The closer they came to the restaurant, the larger the crowd grew. Word was spreading that a great secret, once hidden at the center of the city, had finally been revealed: Creatures were real, and they were right here in Bickleburgh!
By the time they reached the restaurant, the crowd was so big it spilled out into the street. It was impossible for Leslie’s mother to do all the work by herself, so she enlisted help.
The kitchen became a kind of mini–Creature Department, everyone helping out with preparing the food.
“Thank you for including me,” said Charlton, his bulky red form suddenly hovering over the counter where Elliot and Leslie were folding pastries. “I’ve spent much of my life in one disguise or another.” He looked around the kitchen, crowded with every manner of outlandish creature. “But for the first time, I feel like I belong.”
“You do,” Leslie told him.
“So I was thinking . . .” Charlton flipped open his satchel. As he did so, the scroll he had shown the professor earlier tumbled to the floor.
“What’s this?” asked Harrumphrey. His tail snaked around the scroll and lifted it to his face. “Some kind of blueprint?”
“Oh!” said Charlton, suddenly flustered. “N-no, it’s nothing!” He snatched it away from Harrumphrey and hastily tore it up.
Harrumphrey squinted up at him suspiciously.
“It wasn’t a very good idea,” said Charlton. “Just garbage, really! And so is this.” He took his last bottle of Knoo-Yoo-Juice out of his satchel and turned back to Leslie. “As I was saying, I won’t be needing this anymore. You can pour it straight down the sink.”
Leslie took the bottle from him, but when she got to the sink and unscrewed the lid, she froze.
“What is it?” asked Elliot, noticing something was wrong.
“It’s the smell.”
“Of the Knoo-Yoo-Juice?” Elliot stopped folding dumplings and joined Leslie at the sink. “What does it smell like?”
Leslie didn’t know what to say. She sniffed once more from the bottle. It was a chemical sent, sharp and acidic, but beneath that was something she recognized: the smell of honey and vinegar, overripe fruit, and just a hint of Worcestershire sauce. “It smells like my grandfather’s cooking wine.”
“Then it’s a good thing he never cooked with it,” said her mother, glancing at the medicine in the bottle.
“No,” said Leslie, thoroughly bewildered. “He only ever . . . drank it.” She shook her head. “It can’t be.”
“Are you really sure?” asked Elliot.
“There’s one way to find out.” She led Elliot to the large cupboard where Famous Freddy kept his countless bottles of cooking wine. “He keeps it all in—oh!” The cupboard was empty.
Leslie’s mother laughed. “Did you really think he’d leave behind his precious cooking wine? He packed it all up and took it with him.”
“It’s probably just a coincidence,” said Elliot.
“It must be,” said Leslie, nodding emphatically to herself. “It’s the only explanation. Because if Famous Freddy’s cooking wine is the same as what’s in this bottle, it would mean my very own grandfather . . .”
“Is a creature,” Elliot whispered.
“No,” said Leslie. “That’s impossible.” She hurried to the sink and poured every drop of the Knoo-Yoo-Juice down the drain, making sure to rinse the bottle when she was done.
Elliot followed her back to the table. “What if it’s not?” he asked.
Leslie shook her head. “It is impossible. I was just being silly.”
Before Elliot could ask any more questions, the scent of the first steamed dumplings filled the room. It was a smell so rich and delicious it instantly reminded them that a celebration was at hand.
They soon discovered Leslie’s mother really had learned something from Famous Freddy.
Even Elliot’s parents were impressed.
“Amazing!” cried his father.
“This establishment,” said Elliot’s mother, “might get the most glowing review we’ve ever written!”
“Mom!” Leslie gave her mother an enormous hug. “I’m so proud of you!”
“This calls for a toast,” said Sir William, leading everyone in raising a glass. “To wonderful food, to Professor Archimedes von Doppler and his Creature Department, to the wonder of invention and the rigors of science, and especially to two children who saved the day!”
Everyone cheered. Leslie put on one of her favorite Boris Minor and the Karloffs albums and they all danced to the bounding rhythm of “Monster Gnash”: Leslie, Elliot, Professor von Doppler, Gügor, Harrumphrey, Patti Mudmeyer, Colonel-Admiral Reginald T. Pusslegut, Jean-Remy Chevalier, Charlton the cycloptosaurus, and even the two hobmongrels, Bildorf and Pib. Everyone joined in, and the celebration went late into the night.
Yet it wasn’t merely the deliciousness of the food, the rhythm of the music, or the crowds of friendly faces that made the night special. It was something else. It was something intangible, something like a strange otherworldly substance you might only find hidden in the Abstractory. It was a feeling.
Not just one feeling, but many. Neither Elliot nor Leslie could describe them all, but there was certainly one that stood out, stronger than all the rest: the feeling of friendship. For the very first time they both felt that they had found a true friend.
They smiled at each other. In fact, everyone was smiling. That was because of another feeling that filled the room: the feeling of change. It was the sense that from that moment forward, the odd little city of Bickleburgh was going to be very, very different.
Acknowledgme
nts
Without the support of the following people, The Creature Department would have never emerged from its secret underground cave. Enormous thanks to my very savvy agent, Jackie Kaiser, to whom I owe so much; to my editor, Rebecca Kilman, whose kindness and insight made the manuscript eminently better; to Nick Hooker at Framestore New York and Zack Lydon, whose eye-popping artwork was an inspiration to me as I wrote; to Simon Whalley, who generously peeled back the curtain at Framestore London; and to the incredible Ben Schrank, who got this odd ball rolling in the first place.
Finally, my deepest thanks to my wife, without whom nothing would happen—especially this book. Your calmness, patience, and support are the essences that power me.
The Creature Department Page 23
