Elliot and the Pixie Plot (9 page)

Your tailors haven’t sewn for kids lately,” Elliot said to Mr. Willimaker as he faced a mirror. It was the largest mirror in Burrowsville, but Elliot could still see only part of himself in it at a time. And he’d had to dress behind some bushes. He wasn’t positive someone saw him, but he had definitely heard giggling nearby.

Mr. Willimaker agreed. “It seems human fashion has changed over the last century or two.”

For pants, Elliot wore breeches that gathered at his calf. He had a pullover shirt with full sleeves that gathered at his wrists and a vest that buttoned up the front. “I look like a pirate,” he said.

“Don’t be silly,” Mr. Willimaker said. “Pirates never wore vests like that. You look like a pioneer.”

The only things Elliot didn’t hate were his shoes. They fit him perfectly and were very comfortable. Elliot tugged at his shirt. Maybe if he didn’t tuck it in, it wouldn’t look so much like something his great-great-great-great-grandpa would’ve worn while picking up cow pies on the plains.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” Mr. Willimaker said. “We’ll find some patterns for modern-day boys so that next time you’re kidnapped—”

“Next time?” Elliot asked. “Thanks for the clothes, but next time I’d like to come to the Underworld on my own.”

Fudd entered the room. “King Elliot? Dinner is ready. We’re eating outside, where you’ll be most comfortable.”

Elliot nodded. If he was half starved before, then he was all the way starved by now. He forgot all about his clothes and followed Fudd outside. He expected most of the Brownies to be at the royal feast, but he had no idea how many Brownies there were. When he had used the Brownies to help end the Goblin war, the stronger ones had come, but the rest had stayed back.

“Is this all of them?” Elliot whispered to Mr. Willimaker.

“We know you’d rather be home,” Mr. Willimaker said, “but for us Brownies, the king has come and today is a holiday. Everyone wants to see you.”

A cheer rose through the crowd when they saw Elliot enter. Long rows of tables lined a large grassy field. Hundreds of Brownies of every size and age stood near the tables. Babies sat on their fathers’ shoulders. Younger Brownie children stood on chairs to get a better look at their king. The only thing the Brownies all had in common was their various shades of gray hair, sticking up in wild directions. Together, they looked like a field of unmowed gray grass. Elliot had never guessed there would be so many of them.

At the head of the crowd, a table had been specially built for Elliot. Fudd pulled at Elliot’s bulky sleeve and said, “We tried to have a throne made for you, but there just wasn’t time. We did find a giant toadstool that was about your size.”

The royal toadstool was in front of Elliot’s seat at the table. A red satin cloth lay over the top for him to sit on, and blue flower petals surrounded the base of it. “Looks comfortable,” Elliot said, grinning. “This is a great throne.”

He went to sit, but Mr. Willimaker touched his arm. “Aren’t you going to say anything to the Brownies?”

“Huh? Oh, sure.” Elliot faced the Brownies, who all fell to their knees when they saw he was about to speak. “You don’t have to do that,” he said. Slowly they rose again, and he continued, “Um, so thanks for letting me be your king. I’ll try to do a good job.”

The Brownies cheered again and a cry rose up of “Long live King Elliot!”

“That was quite a speech,” Mr. Willimaker said. “Very inspirational and, uh, easy to remember.”

“Now it’s time to eat,” Fudd said. “I hope you’re hungry.”

Elliot was so hungry that he was almost ready to eat his shirt (which might be one good way to get rid of it). Back at home, if there was ever any decent food, you had to grab it fast before someone else got it. But here, Elliot noticed, the Brownies were waiting for him to eat first. The only time Elliot’s family had waited for him to eat first was last April Fool’s Day, when the twins had switched the sugar and salt. Elliot was three bites into his cold cereal before he realized that wasn’t sugar on his flakes.

When Elliot was seated on his royal toadstool, then the Brownies sat. Immediately a Brownie woman put a plate of food in front of him. It was full of bread, a yellowish fruit, and a lot of green vegetables Elliot didn’t recognize. All the Brownies were watching him, including the woman who had just served him.

“Yum.” Elliot picked up his fork and took a bite of the green vegetables. They tasted like Kyle and Cole’s mud pies, only with the unexpected aftertaste of peppermint. “Mmmmm,” he said, doing his best to convince the woman that he liked the strange food. “Really good.”

There probably weren’t any Quack Shacks in the Underworld. Too bad. French fries sounded great right now.

“Have you tried the turnip juice yet?” Mr. Willimaker asked.

It looked like apple juice, but it was more syrupy, and Elliot thought he saw a turnip root floating on top of his juice. But he put on a smile, lifted his cup, and said, “Cheers!”

Mr. Willimaker toasted Elliot in return, and they both drank. Elliot’s plan was to finish the whole thing in one awful gulp, but he was surprised at his first taste that it wasn’t bad. Not that he’d want to replace chocolate milk with turnip juice or anything, but he wouldn’t mind it so much if they gave him some more.

“That turnip juice is sort of like me,” said a woman walking up to him. “We’re both better than we first appear.”

Elliot looked up. “Agatha!”

The first time Elliot had met Agatha, she was a has-been Hag who couldn’t quite get her curses to work. She was also the closest thing to what Elliot imagined a real witch might look like. After a few days, Agatha had remembered how to curse again, and eventually Elliot saw what a truly beautiful woman she was.

Beside Elliot, Mr. Willimaker stood and greeted her with a polite bow. “Agatha, we weren’t expecting you.”

“The king of the Brownies finally comes to the Underworld. I wouldn’t miss this moment,” she said, then pointed a crooked finger at Mr. Willimaker. “But for forgetting to invite me, this curse I leave with you today: I am a Hag and here’s what I think. You’ll find some trouble when you take a drink.”

Mr. Willimaker looked at his cup of turnip juice, frowned, and then pushed it aside, just to be safe.

Fudd jumped up and pulled out his chair on the other side of Elliot. “Take my chair, please, my lady.”

“I can’t stay,” Agatha said. “I just need to speak to Elliot for a moment.”

Elliot stood. All the Brownies were still watching him, and he had a sudden itch on his backside. He wondered what kings were supposed to do when they needed to scratch in an embarrassing place and everyone was watching them.

“Pay attention, Elliot,” Agatha said.

Elliot turned to her, hoping that whatever she had to say was so important it would help him forget the itch.

“I have a gift for you,” she said, rummaging through a bag hanging from her arm.

A gift? Maybe it was a bottom scratcher.

“I heard a rumor that you have agreed to help the Pixies,” she continued. “I have a guess at what they’ve asked you to do, but I’m not going to say what I think it is because I can’t do anything more to help you. Do you understand?”

“Sure,” Elliot said, although he really didn’t understand at all.

“Ahh, here it is.” She pulled a flashlight from her bag.

“Oh,” he said, reaching for it. “Thanks.”

Agatha yanked the flashlight away from him and added, “This isn’t a human flashlight. It’s not for seeing
in
the dark. It will see
through
the dark.”

Same thing, Elliot thought, but he said nothing.

Agatha continued. “It can be turned on only once, so you don’t want to use it until you’re sure you need it.”

Fudd tapped Elliot’s arm. “Like when it’s light outside. Whatever you do, don’t turn it on in the light.”

“Right.” Elliot figured that was obvious.

“If it’s a little light and a little dark, don’t turn it on then either,” Fudd added. “Or if it’s mostly dark but you can still see.”

“Got it,” Elliot said.

Agatha continued, “This flashlight doesn’t run on batteries. It runs on the sun.”

“There’s no sun in the Underworld,” Elliot said.

“But the flashlight doesn’t know that,” Agatha said with a sigh. “Honestly, Elliot, I thought you were a smart boy. The flashlight doesn’t know why it works, it just does. Why would you think the flashlight knows anything at all?”

Elliot shrugged, still confused.

“Once you turn the flashlight on, it gets its power from the sun at the surface of the earth. It will remain on until the sun is blocked by a solar eclipse. Then the light goes out and the flashlight is used up.”

With that, Agatha handed Elliot the flashlight. It was heavier than it looked and made of a shiny silver metal that was a bit greasy.

“The grease isn’t from the metal,” Agatha explained. “I had fried chicken before coming here and forgot to wash my fingers. Sorry about that.”

“Oh, no problem,” Elliot said, wiping the flashlight with his shirt. He really didn’t care if he ruined the shirt. “Thanks for this.”

“I owed you one. You helped me when I was in your world. I’ll help you now that you’re in mine. Now, sit back down and finish your dinner. You have a long trip ahead of you tomorrow.”

Agatha disappeared in a puff of smoke (sometimes called “poofed in a puff,” but Elliot doesn’t like to think of it that way, because it sounds like something one might do in a toilet). He smiled. The itch was gone. Maybe good luck was finally turning his way.

Elliot slept in Burrow Cave that night. Mr. Willimaker apologized that his own home wasn’t large enough for Elliot, but added that it was probably a good thing, since Patches would only keep him up all night with questions.

Elliot was glad for the chance to be alone. He’d been awake most of the previous night, either from Tubs’s snoring or with the whole kidnapped-to-the-Underworld thing. And tonight the Brownies had kept him awake very late trying to feed him, or wanting to ask him questions about life on the surface, or thanking him for ending the Goblin war.

Elliot was glad for the time alone, because he really wanted to think about how he was going to sneak into Demon Territory and pluck a hair off the head of the most dangerous Demon of all time.

He wanted to think about it, but he was too tired. He soon fell asleep between thoughts of Kovol and whether Harold the Shapeshifter had been able to fool his family that day pretending to be Elliot. Harold might be able to fool his sister and brothers, and maybe even his dad. But not his mom. One time, Elliot hadn’t wanted to worry her about the black eye he got when Tubs pushed him into a door. So Elliot wore sunglasses to dinner. Didn’t fool his mom one bit. Could Harold fool her?