The eternity elixir, p.13
The Eternity Elixir, page 13
Gordy swallowed. His whole body was trembling, but he didn’t think they were in danger any more.
“What is that thing?” his dad asked.
“I don’t know,” Gordy answered. “But I think it’s on our side.”
Raspy breathing and footsteps echoed down the otherwise silent street. Security lights above garage doors flickered on as the figure darted past. A neighbor’s dog sniffed at the intruder’s advance and scurried out of his doghouse, barking furiously. The dog pressed his muzzle against the chain-link fence and caught a glimpse of the thing making all the noise. The dog’s barking instantly ceased.
The wind would eventually remove all evidence of Bawdry’s trek through the neighborhood, but for the moment, his ashy footprints smudged the sidewalk as well as the corner of the Stitsers’ roof, where the mummy had emerged from the chimney only moments before.
Bawdry hobbled to the end of the street, never looking in any other direction, a tail of unwound bandages flapping behind him like the end of a tattered scarf. He crossed the road, and the headlights of the car waiting at a stop sign lit up his whole body. The driver, who had been texting his girlfriend while the car idled, glanced up in time to see a blur of bandages as Bawdry disappeared into the shadows.
Finally, the mummy arrived at his destination. The back door of the white SUV opened, and Bawdry climbed in, plopping down on the leather seat with a squish. He took two quick breaths, and then the force controlling him left his body. His one eye glazed over, and his jaw went slack.
“What’s he doing here? He’s gooey, no?” Yeltzin asked, peering over the headrest. The sounds of Russian classical musical poured out of the radio. Esmeralda sat next to Yeltzin in the passenger seat, her fingers pressed against her temples, and her eyes clamped shut. She exhaled through her nostrils, unclasped her leather satchel, and pulled out a vial of muted orange liquid.
“He’s going to ruin upholstery,” Yeltzin said. “And he smells unpleasant.”
“Please be quiet, moron, I have a splitting headache,” Esmeralda said, after downing the orange antidote. “That didn’t go exactly as planned.”
“What happened?” Yeltzin turned the volume down on the radio. “You kept twitching, and your lips were moving, but no sounds came out.”
“The boy knows of our intent,” she answered. “As does Wanda.”
Yeltzin removed the foil wrapping on a stick of gum and stuck it in his mouth. “So what? We thought they might have suspicion.”
“There’s no suspicion any more. Believe me, they know.”
“How?” He chewed noisily on the gum.
“Because I spoke to Gordy. And because I was attacked by a revivified skeleton that was sent to protect him.”
Yeltzin stopped chewing. “What? Is that why mummy is now passenger here?”
“I don’t have time to explain everything to you.” Esmeralda rummaged once more in her satchel. The contents of bottles sloshed, but instead of a potion, she brought out her cell phone. “We need to alert everyone immediately. Take us back to the hotel. I need to gather all my supplies. I don’t know how much time we have before the Board sends help to the Stitsers.”
“But I thought you said Wanda would never involve B.R.E.W. in this matter.” Yeltzin shifted into drive and eased down on the gas pedal. The SUV lurched forward.
“Wanda wouldn’t, necessarily, but that won’t stop her son or her husband from reporting it.”
“They would know who to contact?”
“Would you stop asking questions and drive faster!”
Yeltzin stomped on the gas pedal. The SUV sped up, and Bawdry’s now-lifeless body toppled sideways onto a paper sack printed with the logo Martin’s Burgers.
Yeltzin glanced into the rearview mirror and scrunched his face in disgust. “Ugh! I wasn’t finished eating that. Now I’ll have to toss it. Shame.”
“Stop worrying about your stomach and start preparing yourself!” Esmeralda snapped. She typed a message into her phone and sent it to her contact list. “We attack the house before dawn.”
“It’s all clear. Bawdry’s definitely gone,” Mr. Stitser announced as he returned to the kitchen, closing the door to the basement lab behind him. “Went straight up the chimney. But the lab is destroyed.”
Gordy breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. I mean not good that the lab’s destroyed, but good that Bawdry has left. He shouldn’t be able to come back anymore.”
“Are we absolutely positive?” his dad asked.
Gordy shrugged. “I think so. The wards should work against him now that he’s left.”
Mr. Stitser nodded and turned his attention to the bony visitor. “What do we do about that? Max, stop poking it, please.”
Max was busy waving his hand in front of the skeleton’s painted-on face, snapping his fingers next to its stone skull, and flicking its ribs. “I don’t think we can trust it, Mr. Stitser,” Max said. “Skeletons are almost always evil.”
“This one saved us from Bawdry and since its come up here, it has tolerated you poking and pushing it nonstop,” Gordy said. “I think it’s definitely on our side.”
His dad leaned against one of the tables and folded his arms. “Why don’t you explain to me how you came to that conclusion.”
“For starters, Esmeralda could tell it was sent from someone else,” Gordy explained. “She mentioned Priscilla when they were fighting.”
“So?” Max blurted out. “That doesn’t prove anything.”
“Okay, but what about the wards?” Gordy asked. “They’ve worked like they were supposed to, so far. Why was the skeleton able to break through the window? I think it’s because it had permission from Mom. She’s the only one who could give it.”
Mr. Stitser headed for the stairs to the second level. “I’m grabbing a few things, and then we’re out of here. We’ll pick up the twins from Grandma and Grandpa Stitsers and then we’ll stay in a hotel until Mom gets back.” He nodded at Max. “We’ll drop you off on the way.”
Max flinched in surprise. “You’re taking me home?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Gordy said to his dad.
“Exactly!” Max snapped his fingers and pointed at Gordy. “You need me for protection. I stay cool and calm under pressure.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Gordy said, puffing out his cheeks. “Our house is the safest place for everyone.”
“You’re not suggesting we stay here?” his dad asked, laughing. “Look, I understand we’re all very confused and shaken up by this, but I’m going to make the decision, and everyone needs to obey it. Understand?” Gordy’s dad hurried up the stairs to his bedroom.
Gordy wanted to protest. He knew the only reason they had lasted as long as they had was because of the home wards. And the skeleton was still there, standing guard. At least, Gordy thought it was standing guard. He couldn’t tell for sure considering the creature’s face was drawn onto the stone head. It made it impossible to know what direction it was looking let alone what it might be thinking. This, by far, had been the most bizarre night of Gordy’s life. A walking and talking mummy. A skeleton coming to their rescue. Max sleeping over on a school night.
Gordy stood in front of the skeleton. “Can you understand me?”
The skeleton tilted its head to one side.
“Do you think your mom can see you right now?” Max asked. “Like through its eyes?”
Gordy shook his head. “It doesn’t have any eyes. They’re drawn on.”
“What do you think we should call it?” Max asked.
“Call it?”
“I think Slim is a good name.” Max smiled. “Good Ol’ Slim.”
A knock sounded on the front door. Gordy and Max grabbed each other and then looked at the skeleton for help. It stood still and rigid, making no indication it had heard the knock.
“That was the door!” Max whispered.
“I know!” Gordy whispered back.
Another knock, louder than before followed by a soft voice. “Hello? Is anyone in there?”
Max yelped. “It’s Yeltzin! Hey, Slim! Protect us!”
Slim didn’t move.
Gordy eyed the door. Yeltzin was Russian, but the voice behind the door sounded very much American.
“No need to worry,” the male voice said through the door. “I’m not an enemy. My name is Bolter, and I work with Wanda at B.R.E.W.”
“Bolter?” Gordy headed for the door.
“Don’t open it,” Max said. “It’s probably a trap.”
Gordy had met Bolter at B.R.E.W. Headquarters. He was the weird guy with the mayonnaise jar and the missing fingers. What was he doing at the house?
“I’m not alone,” Bolter continued. “I’ve brought someone with me who can help. Her name is Zelda, and we are both”—he paused—“friends.”
Gordy tried to control his breathing and then spoke. “Why are you here?”
“Ah, is that you, Gordy? Very good. I’ve been made aware that your family has been dealing with some trouble as of late. We have simply come to provide assistance until Wanda’s safe return.”
“Why isn’t the stupid skeleton doing anything?” Max tossed a pillow toward Slim. “I think it’s broken. I’m serious, Gordy. Opening that door is a big mistake. Mr. Stitser, there are crazy people at the door!”
Max was right. How could they possibly trust anyone? Gordy’s own father had been easily Blotched by Esmeralda, which meant no one was safe.
“What’s happening?” Gordy’s dad bounded down the steps. “Who is it?”
Gordy pointed at the door, his eyes widening. “He says his name’s Bolter and he works with Mom.”
“He’s lying,” Max announced.
Gordy and his dad looked at Max, who had managed to wedge his body between the cushions of the couch.
“This is Mr. Stitser,” Gordy’s dad said sternly to the door. “It’s very late, and I demand to know who this is.” He glanced at Gordy and shrugged.
“Mr. Stitser, I apologize for the interruption, but I gather you haven’t necessarily had what one would call a peaceful evening. Am I right?” the man asked. “My name is Bolter Farina. I work with your wife and have known her for many years. I am someone you can trust.”
Gordy’s dad ran his fingers through his hair and stared through the kitchen at the garage door as if contemplating an escape route. “I’m sorry, Mr. Bolter, but I don’t think we can let you in,” he said.
Gordy leaped back as the dead bolt suddenly twisted on its own. Before he could react, the chain lock unlatched and the door pushed open an inch.
“They’re coming in!” Gordy looked around desperately for some sort of weapon to protect himself and then at the skeleton.
The dark-skinned man stood in the doorway, a warm smile spread across his mouth. Standing beside him was a middle-aged woman with short green hair and white lipstick. She had white eyelashes that made her blue eyes glow in the porch light, and she wore an enormous gold hoop earring in her left ear.
Bolter looked exactly how he had the first time Gordy had met him. Tight blue jeans, a cream-colored sports jacket, and charcoal-gray goggles strapped to his forehead. He had pulled his long black hair back into a ponytail. Dangling from his gnarled hand was a medium-sized bag, which looked to be made from alligator skin.
“Don’t scream or run. Again, unnecessary.” Bolter calmly held up his hand.
Gordy took a shaky step backwards, and his dad stepped in front of him.
“You can’t come in here!” his dad commanded.
“Please, please, calm yourselves,” Bolter said. “No need to panic.”
“The . . . the wards.” Gordy meant to say it as a threat, but it came across as a cautious warning. Any second now, Bolter and his strange companion would spin around and head far away from the house. That was how the wards always worked.
“Attack, Slim! Attack!” Max hopped up and down on the couch, clinging to a throw pillow like a shield. But the skeleton refused to obey any commands.
“The wards won’t work against us, I don’t believe,” Bolter said.
“Explain yourself quickly, Bolter,” the green-haired woman said. “They look ready to make a run for it.” Her high-pitched voice sounded as though she had sucked in all the helium from a balloon.
“I see you must’ve been through a lot lately, and I apologize for any alarm we have caused,” Bolter said. “We’ve been invited to your home.”
“By who?” Max asked.
Bolter looked over Gordy’s shoulder and pointed at the skeleton. “By him.”
“So there I was, working in my shop at home, minding my own business when out of nowhere, this fine fellow suddenly started knocking on my window.” Bolter gestured to the skeleton with his nubby hand and laughed before reclining on the couch and sipping his tea. “I must say I was a bit befuddled.”
Gordy’s dad returned from the kitchen with another cup of tea. He offered it to Zelda, who was busy attempting to tidy up the living room.
“What’s in it?” she asked in her squeaky voice.
“Tea, lemon, and some sugar,” Gordy’s dad said.
“You don’t happen to have any milkweed nectar, do you?”
Mr. Stitser puffed out his cheeks and looked at Gordy for an answer.
Gordy shrugged. “We do . . . er, did, but it’s downstairs in that mess.”
Zelda twirled her finger. “Don’t bother. I’m not thirsty.”
“Anyway,” Bolter continued, “our bony friend left immediately to monitor your home while I stopped to gather a few supplies and bring Zelda along for the ride. We came as quickly as we could, but, by the looks of things, we didn’t come fast enough.”
“And you let a skeleton into your home?” Gordy sat cross-legged on the floor next to the coffee table, listening to Bolter’s story. “Just like that?”
Bolter blew across his teacup. “I saw no need to be alarmed.”
“But he’s a skeleton!” Max sat beside Gordy plunging vanilla cookies into his cup of tea until they were sopping and spongy.
“But he was so polite and reserved. It would be rude of me not to at least acknowledge him. In my line of work, I see all sorts of odd things from time to time. How was I to know it wasn’t one of my colleagues suffering from an unfortunate accident? Was I simply to ignore him based upon my initial observation of his appearance? Plus, he carried this with him.” Bolter reached into his jacket pocket and produced a piece of paper. He unfolded it and read the writing scribbled across the sheet.
Dearest Bolter,
Please help my family. They may be in dire circumstances. And trust the skeleton. His name is Doll.
Sincerely,
Wanda Rook Stitser
“His name’s Doll?” Max looked disappointed. “That’s lame.”
“I called Wanda and confirmed it on the way over here from Zelda’s,” Bolter said.
“Called her?” Gordy’s dad asked. “How? We haven’t been able to get through to her on her cell phone. It goes straight to her voice mail.”
“That’s because she’s somewhere far out of range of a cell tower and normal phone services, but I have this.” Bolter once again reached into his sports coat, but this time he pulled out an enormous, brick-shaped cell phone. A foot-long antenna rose up from the top. Instead of buttons, a dial with numbered slots rested at the center of the phone. He inserted his knuckle into one of the slots and began dialing. The phone made a grinding sound as the dial swiveled with each entered number, then Bolter pressed the receiver up to his ear. He cleared his throat and stared at the ceiling until the line connected.
“Hello, Wanda. I’ve arrived.” Bolter smiled, listening to the person on the other end. “Yes, yes, they are all here . . . Wait—” He covered the bottom part of the phone and leaned toward Gordy’s dad. “The younger children—are they all right?”
“They’re at their grandparents for the night,” Mr. Stitser answered.
Bolter nodded and returned to the call. “All is well. Would you like to speak to your family?” He nodded again and then pressed a button and placed the phone on the coffee table.
“Hello? Gordon?” The magnified sound of Wanda Stitser’s voice poured from the receiver.
“Yes, dear, it’s me,” Gordy’s dad replied.
“Are you all right?”
“We’re hanging in there.”
“Good,” she said, clear relief in her voice. “And who’s with you? Gordy, are you there?”
“Mom,” Gordy said, choking back tears. He couldn’t help it. Hearing his mom’s voice brought on a wave of both relief and sadness. He needed her home right now. How much longer were they supposed to hold out against Esmeralda?
“And Max!” Max added.
“Oh, Max,” Wanda said fondly. “I have to admit I am surprised to learn you are staying over on a school night, but it’s good that you’re there, supporting my son.”
“What’s happening, Mom?” Gordy asked. “Why do these people keep trying to get into our house?”
“Please tell me you received a package from your Aunt Priss,” Wanda said, desperation in her tone. “It contained a vial of the utmost importance.”
“I don’t think so—” Gordy’s dad began.
“Yes, we did,” Gordy said, averting his eyes from his father. “The vial is upstairs safe in my room. I’m sorry, Dad. I should have told you.” He felt his cheeks flush. This was not the way he wanted his dad to find out. Gordy had planned to tell him, but so much had happened over the past few days.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mr. Stitser asked, folding his arms.
“My guess is he suspected you were Blotched,” Bolter suggested. “In which case, it was wise to withhold that bit of information, don’t you think?”
