How to Stop a Witch (13 page)

“They who?” asked Priscilla.

“They everyone,” Mordred answered. “There are few you will meet south of the Styx who will not try to cause you harm. And those who appear to want to help . . . well, they can be just as terrifying as any other.”

“Maybe we want to reconsider this rescue,” suggested Kristin, who was possibly just now coming to realize she didn’t know Nathan.

“But if this place is as bad as you say, then it’s even more essential we rescue Nathan,” said Priscilla. “Who knows what kind of trouble he might be in?”

“Who indeed?” said Mordred. “Oh, did I mention I can send you there, but I can’t bring you back? You’ll have to figure that out on your own.”

“Great,” Greg muttered. And he thought this was going to be a simple matter of rescuing Nathan from an evil sorcerer—Nathan, the powerful magician incapable of rescuing himself.

The six of them entered the Room of Shadows, where twenty of King Peter’s magicians had gathered to weave their magic—or perhaps they’d been there all along. Who could say?

Greg and the others waited in expectant silence, with Lucky in the center of the room, waiting to give the signal that would send them all through the rift and into the Netherworld. Greg’s hands were so sweaty he could barely hold his walking stick.

“What’s taking so long?” asked Kristin.

“Take your time,” said Melvin, who found himself pressed up against Kristin in the cramped surroundings.

“Would you back off?”

“Shh,” said the others.

Priscilla draped an arm over Kristin’s shoulder. “We don’t want to break their concentration.”

“I’m going to break this kid’s arm in a second.”

“Quiet,” insisted Lucky. He waved frantically at the surrounding magicians. “Not yet.”

Greg thought Lucky’s worry was a bit unfounded, considering the portal hadn’t even opened yet, but then he wondered what would happen if the magicians actually did try to send them through now, before the portal existed. He quickly turned his mind away from the thought, but his mind was not easily swayed.

A familiar buzzing formed in his ear and shot about inside his head like a trapped fly. Rake shifted uneasily and let out a low growl from within Greg’s knapsack, which Greg wore under his magician’s robe but above the chain mail Queen Gnarla had given him. Earlier Greg had argued about wearing the pack, claiming it made him look like some ridiculous hunchback, but the others had all assured him it helped him look more sinister. Lucky and Priscilla didn’t bother to wear theirs, since Mordred shocked them all by stating that the type of magic used in the packs wouldn’t work within the Netherworld, and without magic they were too small to carry anything worthwhile.

Soon Greg’s skin began to prickle. Suddenly the air before him split open to reveal a bright light behind. Lucky stared into the gap, but Greg could see nothing but spots before his own eyes.

“What’s happening?” asked Kristin.

“Shh,” said the others.

Greg blinked away the spots. Lucky’s face was a mask of concentration. Where before the portal had always revealed the blackness of space, today it was dominated by a slurry of colors, like objects close to the window of a speeding train. Greg watched for only a moment. The sight reminded him too much of his nearly-fatal slide down the Smoky Mountains last time he visited Myrth.

“Now!” shouted Lucky, and Greg was pulled from his feet in what might have been described as a tug in the same way getting flattened by a truck might be described as feeling under pressure. An instant later the ground rushed up to meet Greg’s feet. It then met his hands and knees, and finally his face. It was unpleasantly hot.

Greg jumped to his feet. Screams sounded all around him. Thick smoke hung suffocating in the air. Through it he could make out the licking flames of a raging fire. Scattered sparks swept up by a blistering wind rained down from the sky.

This really is the Netherworld!

Then, through the smoke, he spotted the source of the fire. The sky was black as night, but the silhouette that soared his way was blacker still. A terrifying screech rent the air, like the sound of a car being pushed along steel tracks by a braking freight train. Ahead, the three-hundred-foot-long dragon spotted movement and prepared to launch another searing jet of flames.

“Watch out!”

Garbed in the black robe Mordred gave her, Priscilla was nearly invisible within the gloom, but Greg didn’t need to see her to recognize her voice, and he didn’t need to hear her words to know to watch out. He dove face first into the dirt. Hot as the soil was, he far preferred the feel of it to the scorching jet of fire that soared above his head.

Again the dragon screeched. Banking hard to the left, it began the lazy mile-long circle that would bring it back to this spot.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Melvin.

Greg snugged up his hood to protect his face from the sparks. Toward the sound of Melvin’s voice, a dark mass was sprinting away. Two more figures followed, so Greg ran that way too. His eyes burned as he struggled to keep the others in sight. The smoke bit his throat and lungs, and he coughed without relief.

“This way,” someone shouted.

Greg was so terrified as he veered in that direction, he didn’t even realize the voice was not familiar. He emerged from the smoke into a hazy clearing, blinked the tears from his eyes and spotted three hooded figures before him. A fourth rushed up from behind.

“You okay, Greg?” It was Lucky’s voice.

“Yeah, you?”

“Of course. Where are the girls?”

“There,” Greg said, pointing, “and Melvin too.” Then he noticed the taller silhouette of a man with the others, and his heart jumped.

“Who’s that?” asked Lucky.

Melvin jumped between the girls and the newcomer, as if to protect them, but Kristin shoved him aside.

“You’re blocking my view.”

“Don’t be alarmed,” said the stranger. “I won’t hurt you.” Oddly, he carried a briefcase and wore a crumpled jacket and tie. He extended one hand. “Kellerman’s the name. Insurance is my game.”

“What?” said Greg. “Who are you?”

“I just told you. Name’s Kellerman.” He smiled widely. “You can call me Bob, if you like. Now, you folks just relax. I’d be happy to handle all your insurance needs here in the Netherworld. Oh, you don’t have an agent yet, do you?” His hand was still thrust out as if he expected Greg to shake. Greg and Lucky stared back blankly.

“What’s going on here?” Greg demanded. “What do you want?”

“It’s not what I want that matters, it’s what you need. Like have you considered what’s going to happen once that dragon swings back this way? Oh, look, here he comes now. No reason for you to concern yourselves with it, though. If you just let me lop off a few of your fingers, I believe I can help.”

“What?” said Greg. “Get away.”

The salesman’s eyes diverted to a point above Greg’s shoulder and grew disturbingly wide. “Perhaps we should discuss payment later,” he said rather hurriedly, and with that he pushed Greg aside and stepped boldly into the path of the approaching dragon.

To Greg’s horror, the beast released a scorching jet of fire that singed the ground in a wide swath that soared straight toward the helpless man. When the flames reached their target, they exploded with a fury beyond what even the dragon could deliver. The entire area flashed with blinding light. Greg felt himself lurched off his feet. For a moment he was completely disoriented, just as he had been when the magicians used their magic to send him here. The next thing he knew, he was lying on the ground with his cheek resting in the dirt. The field he had stood in moments before had been replaced by a lightly wooded area. The day was clear and bright, and there was no sign of the dragon or the flames and smoke that marked its passage.

Greg pushed himself up on one elbow. The strange man was lying face-down nearby, unmoving. The others were there as well, just now regaining their feet.

“What happened?” asked Kristin. “Where are we?”

“I don’t know,” said Greg. “Is everyone okay?”

All nodded to indicate they were. All, that is, except the odd man who had introduced himself as Bob, who continued to lie motionless in the dirt. Greg scurried over to check on him.

“Is he d-dead?” asked Kristin.

Greg studied the man’s chest for any sign of movement. “I don’t know.”

“Looks dead to me,” said Melvin.

Priscilla leaned over the body, curious, but clearly not wanting to get too close. “I’m going to have to agree with Melvin on this one.”

“Me too,” said Lucky.

But then Bob stirred and scrambled to his feet. The others jumped back.

“Whew, that hurts,” Bob cried. “I’m afraid that’s going to cost you.”

“W-what?” said Greg. “We thought you were dead.”

“Was for a moment,” said the stranger, “but I’m feeling much better now. Anyway, we need to discuss payment. I was thinking one eye from each of you and a kidney from the healthiest of the lot. How does that sound?”

Kristin tugged on Greg’s shoulder. “Greg, get away from him. He’s creepy.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to refuse payment?” Bob said in a theatrical tone. “I’d hate to have to turn this over to a collection agency. Oh, by the way, I do sell collection agent insurance too, should you be interested.”

“Come on, Greg,” said Lucky. “Let’s get out of here.”

Greg would have liked nothing more, but when he tried to leave, Bob grabbed him by the tunic. Before Greg could so much as utter a scream, Bob yanked him off his feet and swung him around like a rag doll, warning the others to back off or get hurt.

“Put him down,” screamed both Priscilla and Kristin as one. They charged at the man while Melvin and Lucky stood frozen in place, mouths agape.

Bob swung Greg around, fending off both girls with a single sweep. Tears came to Greg’s eyes. He imagined his arm tearing from his shoulder. His legs flapped out behind him like a flag as Bob swished him back and forth, and Greg wasn’t sure he was totally pleased that the girls wouldn’t give up.

“I’m not going to hurt him,” said Bob. “You can have him back just as soon as I collect his kidney.”

“Let him go,” insisted Kristin.

Priscilla tried to grab Bob’s tie but got smacked in the cheek by Greg’s foot for her effort.

Finally Melvin and Lucky snapped out of their trances and raced forward. Melvin tried to sneak past Greg’s flailing feet, but fared no better than the girls had. Lucky yelled for the others to watch out, and with a single swing of his walking stick, swept Bob’s ankles out from under him. Greg felt Bob’s grip relax. He pulled free, scrambled to his feet and rushed to join the others.

Priscilla grabbed his hand. “Run.”

But Greg shook loose and strode purposely forward. “Wait. Let’s find out what this guy knows about Nathan.”

Lucky tried to grab Greg’s arm and pull him back, but again Greg shook free. Bob was just crawling back to his feet, clearly favoring his right ankle, when Lucky’s hood slipped.

Bob’s mouth dropped open. “Your hair . . .”

Lucky quickly pulled his hood up and raised his stick menacingly. “Get back.”

“But your hair.” Bob looked so excited, Greg was sure he’d be jumping for joy if he were able to use both ankles.

“What about it?” asked Lucky.

“Where did you . . . how is it possible?”

With one eye on Kristin, Melvin snatched the stick from Lucky’s hands and threatened Bob with it, though if the truth were known, he was not nearly as skilled with its use as Lucky. “What’s wrong with you, Mister?”

When Bob saw the stick, his enthusiasm faltered. Still, a smile returned to his face. He stared again at Lucky, looking much like a dog that has been told to wait while a meaty morsel sits within easy reach.

“Oh, this changes everything. Tell you what. Your friend can keep his kidney. I’ll just take three locks of your hair instead. Quite a bargain, don’t you think?”

“What?” said Lucky.

“Two then . . . okay, one. Do we have a deal?”

“I’m not giving you anything.”

Bob’s smile disappeared entirely. His neck reddened, and his eyes bored into Lucky. “But I just died for you. You owe me.”

“I didn’t ask you to—”

“What are you talking about?” Greg asked Bob.

“I offered you folks a premium before, remember? When the dragon swung back around, I assumed you were acting on good faith and went ahead and paid out on the policy I knew you intended to purchase.”

When Greg did nothing but stare back at him stupidly, Bob elaborated.

“I diverted the dragon’s attention so that I would die instead of you, causing us all to hyperspace out of danger. What’s not to understand?”

“He’s crazy,” Lucky said, rather pleadingly. He backed away from Bob, eyes wide. “You’re not getting my hair.”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” said Melvin. In one quick movement, he flipped back Lucky’s hood, snatched a fistful of hair, and lopped it off with a pocketknife. Lucky stared aghast, as if the boy had taken a kidney.

“Here’s your silly hair,” Melvin said, tossing the lock at Bob’s feet.

Bob fell to the ground as if gravity had increased tenfold and snatched up the treasure. “Oh, my. Look how beautiful.”

“It’s just hair,” said Priscilla.

Lucky mumbled an inaudible argument.

“But it’s red.” Bob closed his eyes and savored the feel of the hair against his cheek.

“Yeah, so?”

“Did I mention he was creepy before?” said Kristin.

Greg shot Priscilla a warning glance, but she was well ahead of him. Her hood was pulled so tightly over her own red tresses, she looked as if she had only half a head.

“What’s the big deal?” asked Melvin. “So his hair’s red?”

Bob shook himself out of his trance. “So? Have you ever seen red hair before? Oh, of course you have. You two are traveling together. Well, I haven’t. And neither has anyone else I know. But I’m told it’s essential to many dark spells. Why, this one lock alone should carry me into next fall, maybe even winter if I bargain wisely.” His eyes narrowed, and his face broke into the same insincere grin he’d used when they first met. “You know, you’re going to be needing a lot more protection than I first thought.”