Shifting (24 page)

“Payment in full.”

The hooded figure grasped the envelope emptying the contents; it was a roll of paper.

“Huh, its not money,” muttered Meghan, wondering what was so important about those papers that it was worth hurting her brother for.

Meghan and Ivan ducked back into their stinky rag hideout, until the footsteps of the living person were out of range.

“Don’t know about you,” said Ivan, “but I’ve had enough of stinky rags.” He bounded bravely out of the bin, landing with a soft thud.

“Don’t need to say that twice,” she said, following him, although not quite so gracefully. Her confidence was high though, knowing that ghosts couldn’t harm her.

“Guard the package,” ordered Duppy, the instant he saw the duo.

“How?” the two poker playing ghosts asked. “We’re ghosts, we can’t touch it.”

“You idiots, maybe they weren’t aware of that. Besides, I wasn’t talking to you.” 117

Another, very much alive, hooded figure exited one of the huts. All Meghan could see was the figure’s eyes; a fierce shade of blue.

“Okay, wasn’t prepared for that,” said Ivan. “Hope you’re ready for battle!”

“Battle! You do realize I suck at magic, right?”

Ivan rolled his eyes at her.

“It’s probably not a good idea to let your opponent know that,” he muttered.

“Oops!” she frowned.

“Meghan,” he said in all seriousness. “I haven’t seen what this guy can do, but if I can’t take him you’ll be on your own.”

Meghan knew he was right.

“Just tell me what to do, Ivan.”

“Concentrate. Allow the energy to fill you, and then let it out. Preferably on the other guy, not me if you don’t mind.”

“This is not a good time for insults, Ivan,” she scolded.

“I wasn’t. You knock me out by accident, and you’re left…”

“Alone, I get it!” she said heatedly. “I’m not completely stupid, Ivan!” He shrugged, leaving her side. The hooded figure, who wasn’t much taller than Meghan, observed their every move, while guarding the package. Ivan worked his way around the mud huts.

“No other people,” he mouthed to Meghan. Ivan began his interrogation. “What do you want with that package?” There was no answer. Meghan crept around the opposite side of the huts, happening across a ghost locked in a cell.

“Timothy! What are you doing here?”

“I knew one of you would find me,” he boasted happily.

“Sit tight. I’ll get you out, okay. How are they holding you, Timothy? You’re a ghost.”

“Magic, I guess. I’ve been stuck here two weeks.” Meghan kept her eye on the hooded figure and Ivan, while she tried to free Timothy. The hooded figure stepped closer to the room where Timothy was imprisoned. Meghan did not think it was possible, but Timothy, already dead, turned paler than he already was. He backed into the farthest corner possible.

“Watch out, not nice,” Timothy said, hiding his eyes.

“Sit tight, Timothy. I won’t leave you, okay.”

With swift movement, the hooded figure jumped onto the table, grasping the package. The ghosts swirled overhead and the figure motioned for them to attack. They dove from all directions. The ghosts might not be able to use magic on the living; however, being saturated with the cold feeling of death each time a ghost sliced through their bodies was definitely a distraction. After a minute, the ghosts ended their attack.

“I need to get that package,” Meghan said to herself, regaining her composure. The moment she had said it, the hooded figure glanced her direction, his shocking blue eyes squinting at her.

He towered over the book, ordering the ghosts to attack again. As soon as Ivan found a brief pause in the attack he threw his arm, palm out, at the hooded figure, who was not expecting the blow. It knocked him off his feet and he skidded across the ground. An arm fell out of the robe.

118

Meghan jumped at the chance to get closer. As she reached out to grab the package, she saw the arm. It was a young arm. They were fighting a child!

The discovery did not stop the battle. The robed child fought back, shooting a heavy blow toward Ivan, who blocked it. Meghan grabbed the package and fled back to Timothy. From the corner of her eye she saw Ivan fly through the air, through a ghost, and land hard against a wall.

“Ivan,” she shouted, as he hit the ground. The robed child noticed that Meghan held the package and lunged at her. She panicked, unable to focus and collect the energy to produce any magic. Ivan picked up his head and with his last bit of strength, sent a blow toward the hooded child. It was only enough of a blow to give Meghan the smallest of head starts.

“Run,” yelled Timothy. “I can’t die again, get out of here.” She didn’t want to leave, but perhaps she could run and find her uncle, and he could rescue Timothy. She spotted the closest exit. The ghosts began diving for her. Then she saw Ivan lying on the ground. He was not moving.

“No. I’m not leaving,” she decided. She spun around and cried out, “STOP!” Taken off guard by the command, the ghosts froze and waited for orders. The hooded child halted ten feet in front of her, watching intently.

“Tell me who you are, and why you want this book,” she breathed heavily. There was still no answer. “I know you’re a child…” she taunted.

A young male voice, stern, strong and calm, finally spoke.

“Not that it matters, but I’m fourteen, hardly a child. You should concern yourself with the fact that I am stronger than you, and my master will have that book.” Just then, a familiar Catawitch jostled around the robed boy’s legs. Her instincts had been right. The visiting Catawitch in Cobbscott was evil.

“Hello Meghan,” she purred.

“This is your master? This boy?” asked Meghan. The robed child winced at the word boy.

“I told you he wanted to meet you. You should have listened when you had the chance.”

“Who is your master, then?” she demanded of the robed child. “What’s his business with my brother’s book?” The boy didn’t answer, and inside Meghan’s head the echo of a voice erupted.

“Oh, not now, Colin, it couldn’t be a worse time for you to contact me,” she whispered vehemently. The ghosts above were getting restless, Ivan was still completely limp and Timothy remained stuck in his prison. “I need help,” she uttered in desperation.

The scene around her slowed, freezing in place, including Meghan. Beams of light emanated out of Meghan’s thorn-covered locket, followed by the shadow of a woman sleeping on a feather. She awakened and arose, her body a beacon of light.

“Help is coming and you are ready for this, Meghan. You will know what to do!” The woman stroked Meghan’s frightened face. Her skin shimmered like gold.

The feather then claimed the woman’s figure and she again slept, her ghostly image regressing back into the locket.

The chaos came screaming back to life. Meghan took a deep breath as the ghosts began diving.

The hooded child menacingly strode toward her.

119

“Ghost candy,” she remembered in a flash. “I can use it to do a spell against the ghosts and then the kid can’t touch me! At least for thirty seconds.” She reached into her skirt pocket; she had just three pieces left.

“Here goes nothing,” she said, popping a piece into her mouth. The change occurred in the nick of time. The hooded child threw a spell at her, which ripped straight through her ghostly body. His blue eyes appraised her, obviously impressed at the unexpected move.

The ghosts, also caught off guard by Meghan’s maneuver, paused momentarily, and then attacked furiously. Meghan felt their energy and held out her hand, determined. “Sphaera,” she bellowed. The energy pulled itself into a perfect sphere. This stopped the ghosts in their tracks.

She threw it at the closest one blasting it into a million ghostly pieces.

“I did it!” she screamed, hurrying to collect another, knowing her time was short.

“Attack her, bring her down,” ordered Duppy.

Meghan stayed on the defensive and after blowing up two more ghosts her body started to turn real again. She ate the second piece of candy and dispersed three more. The rest made a beeline for the woods, not wanting to be her next target.

She ate the final piece.

Only Duppy remained.

He faced her head on with a sphere of his own. She flew into the air and dove behind him, his sphere missing her.

“Hey Duppy,” she called out. He floated his hideous ghostly body around and covered his face with his hands as the sphere hit him head on.

Meghan changed back and fell to the ground, landing about twenty feet away from the hooded child and his Catawitch. She picked herself up and almost instantly, fell over. “I’ve drained myself,” she assumed, leaning her body against the edge of the mud hut, trying to maintain her balance. There was no where to run. The hooded boy lifted his hand to throw a spell.

“This is it,” she cried. “I tried so hard, and still I failed.” In the split second that followed, Meghan’s loyal Catawitch, Nona, came bounding in. She was small, but vicious and charged the larger, wicked Catawitch.

Above the hut fluttered a bird, the very one Meghan had locked in a cage earlier that morning.

It shimmered, while diving at full speed. Beams of light began pouring from the bird’s body, and then, the most unexpected thing she could have imagined happened!

As the bird descended, its shape began shifting. The wings disappeared and arms formed.

Where there had been claws now were human feet. Tattered clothes replaced the feathers.

A thunderous voice reverberated through the huts as the bird-human shouted a spell, and then landed with a skidding thud. The spell hit the unsuspecting hooded boy, knocking him to the ground.

Without a second thought, the boy got to his feet.

“Elisha!” he called out to his Catawitch. “Let’s go!”

“The book!” she reminded.

“Not today!” he shouted.

120

His Catawitch vaulted into a nearby fire pit. The boy dashed to her side, grasping her back, and they vanished, dissolving into the fire.

Meghan closed her eyes, not believing she was still alive. Nona, uninjured, bounded to her side.

“How did you know, Nona?” she asked, wishing her Catawitch could speak. Somehow, Nona had known the bird was more than just a bird.

Meghan heard the flapping of wings. The bird-human had already shifted back to into its bird form again. It sat atop one of the huts.

“Who are you?” she pleaded.

It ruffled up its feathers in reply.

“I wish you would tell me, so I could thank you properly. I guess, if you ever need anything, you know where my window is.”

The bird winked mischievously at her, then flew away.

Meghan’s thoughts turned to Ivan. She tapped him gently on the face trying to wake him. He did not respond. She knelt closer and discovered that he was not breathing. Meghan’s head was spinning. Moments ago her own death had seemed imminent, only to be saved by a miraculous bird-human. Now Ivan, who had risked his own life to save hers, lay dead.

The Magicante sat next to her on the ground.

Nona pawed at the book.

Do I dare open it?

What can this book possibly do to help me?

Ivan is dead!

She pulled it out of the package and flipped it open.

“Mr. Ancient Magic Guy, um, I could really use some help.”

“It’s about time you got around to something real,” the book said darkly. “I assume from the dead boy’s body, you need a reawakening.”

“What’s a reawakening?” she asked timidly.

“Watch and learn,” the cranky voice of the book replied.

It began to shake violently in her hands; so much so, she could no longer hold on and let it fall to the ground. The leaves tore off the pages, spiraling over Ivan like a tornado. Golden beams of light shot from the leaves slicing into Ivan’s body. After a minute the tornado slowed, the golden beams faded, and the leaves reattached to the book, which promptly closed upon finishing.

Meghan was not sure what she expected as she leaned over Ivan’s unmoving body.

She gasped as Ivan drew in a deep living breath and his eyes flickered open. Meghan drew back in awed exaltation, beholding the Magicante with indescribable new reverence.

Tears welled up in her eyes.

“Don’t look so disappointed,” Ivan said in his usual rude manner. She blew it off, helping him up.

“You’re not dead!” she cried.

“No such luck today, Ms. Jacoby. Where did everyone go?” he asked, noticing the deserted huts.

121

“They left,” she answered, not wishing to explain further. Ivan saw the book lying on the ground and picked it up. Meghan worried he might keep it, or turn it over to the Viancourt.

“So this is what the battle was over? An old book. Magicante,” he read the title.

Meghan decided, then and there, not to tell Ivan he had died, or that Magicante had brought him back to life. He laid the book down, rubbing the back of his head.

“You were thrown against a wall,” she explained, apologetically.

“That part I remember.”

“Uh, excuse me,” a small voice interrupted.

“Timothy!” She ran to his cell. “How am I going to get you out?” Ivan strolled over.

“And who might you be?”

Timothy regaled Ivan with a long introduction, while Meghan attempted to loosen the door on his prison, to no avail.

“Timothy,” she interrupted. “Who put you in this cell, a ghost or a living person?”

“The one you were battling, I think. Alive for sure, it could have been…”

“That’s okay, Timothy,” said Meghan, cutting him off, baffled at how a living person had done magic on him.

“I can tell you the spell to open this door,” said Ivan. “But for some reason, I feel too weak to do it myself.”

“I wonder why?” she mumbled to herself. “What is the spell, Ivan?” she asked, determined to free Timothy.

“Fenestra,” he answered.

She repeated it twice.

She poised herself and gathered the energy needed. I’m getting better at this, she thought, raising her hand, with her palm extended.

“Fenestra.”

It opened.

She had done it.

14

Meghan picked up the book, tucking it under her sweater. Nona and Timothy followed close by, as Meghan and Ivan made their way out of the woods.