Spark and the league of.., p.1
Spark and the League of Ursus, page 1
This is a work of fiction. All names, places, and characters are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to real people, places, or events is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by Robert Repino
All rights reserved. Except as authorized under U.S. copyright law, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher.
Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data
Repino, Robert, author.
Spark and the League of Ursus / Robert Repino.
CYAC: Teddy bears—Fiction. | Toys—Fiction. | Monsters—Fiction. | Missing children—Fiction. | Video recordings—Production and direction—Fiction. | Rescues—Fiction. | Magic—Fiction.
LCC PZ7.1.R464 Sp 2020
DDC [Fic]—dc23 2019037434
ISBN 9781683691662
Ebook ISBN 9781683691679
Cover design by Andie Reid
Interior Design by Molly Rose Murphy
Cover and interior illustrations by Ryan Andrews
Production management by John J. McGurk
Quirk
Books 215 Church Street
Philadelphia, PA 19106
quirkbooks.com
v5.4
a
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Acknowledgments
About the Author
For the dreamers
Spark rested her head on Loretta’s chest, with her paw on the girl’s rib cage as it rose and fell with each breath. Loretta’s eyelashes fluttered, tickling Spark’s fuzzy ear. Spark liked it. Teddy bears like her were meant for this. They were meant to stay with their human, their best friend, and watch over them in the darkest hours of the night. Outside, the buzzing streetlamp glowed like a phony sun. The toys on the windowsill cast shadows on the rug. And as the house settled in, as the quietest stretch of the night began, Spark saw the monster for the first time.
It began with a scratching sound, loud enough to make Spark lift her head. In the corner of the room, a blackness spread outward. The hardwood floor and painted walls rippled and sank into darkness. Then the void glowed red like the embers of a fire. The light glinted off Loretta’s movie posters. Flickering shadows extended from the bookshelf and the enormous wooden desk. On top of the shelf, the sock monkey named Zed squatted with his paws over his eyes.
Spark waddled to the edge of the bed, where Loretta’s feet rested under the blanket. She tried to stand tall enough to see into the portal that had formed in the wall. A shape appeared; it was a man’s head, only larger, and with sharp horns curving upward above the brow. Spark crouched behind the footboard. She could make out the monster’s face now. He had enormous eyes, like an owl. There were two holes above his mouth, as if the nose had been sheared off at the root. A thick chain wrapped around his collar, holding a hideous pendant: it was a human face, with leathery skin stretched tight, the eyes squinched shut. The links of the chain curled under its jaw, which hung open as if letting out an eternal scream.
The monster continued to rise, carrying with him the smell of grease and soot. A chain mail vest covered his torso. A plate of rusted armor, flecked with bits of gold, encased his shoulders, with two sharp points on either side. At his waist, the pale human skin gave way to greenish-black scales.
And then the first claw rose over the edge of the portal, followed by another, then another. Then another. Thin legs, with knobby hinges, like an insect’s. The creature slithered out—half man, half scorpion. Spikes pointed from the armor along his spine. The tail ended in a two-pronged pincer the size of a pair of hedge clippers.
The monster stopped. The scant light reflected in his eyes. When they fixed on Spark’s furry ears poking over the footboard, the monster squinted. There was no point hiding now. With Loretta still fast asleep behind her, Spark stood straight. Maybe this would be enough to scare the monster back into his hole.
It wasn’t.
The monster leaned forward and bared his glistening teeth. He let out a long hiss. And then, impossibly fast, he climbed the wall. On the way up, one of his claws ripped the corner of a poster for The Wizard of Oz. And before Spark could speak, the monster hung upside down from the ceiling. Somehow, the necklace with the human face remained attached to his chest. His tail reached for the foot of the bed. The pincer snapped shut and then opened again like some meat-eating flower.
Spark trembled. She knew monsters were real. Teddy bears were meant to ward them off. The only problem was that she had never seen one until now.
The monster hissed again, and a blob of spit fell from his teeth onto the floor.
Spark tried to remember the oath: the sacred words, first spoken by the Founders of the League. Every bear needed to recite the oath in a moment like this. Doing so would chase away even the most powerful monster. As she hastily assembled the words in her mind, they grounded her. They felt magical. They had to work.
“I am Spark,” she said. “I am the sworn protector of this house.”
The monster’s tail continued to slither. The pincer scraped along the bed frame.
Shaking, Spark continued. “We serve goodness and truth.” Wait, was it goodness and truth, or truth and goodness?
On the bookshelf, Zed pulled his hands away from his eyes.
“We give refuge to the innocent,” Spark said. “We defend the light…to the final light…in times of darkness. By the power bestowed upon me by the League of Ursus, I command you to be gone!”
She didn’t even know what some of the words meant. “The final light”—what was that supposed to be? But Sir Reginald, the bear who taught her the oath, would have been proud that she got it all out at once. Though he would have nitpicked her mistakes. He would have told her to say it louder next time.
The monster should have run away by now. Instead, he let out a new hiss, higher pitched, which quickly dissolved into hysterical, cackling laughter.
A piercing shout rang out. Spark felt movement behind her. Loretta sat up, screaming. The monster grimaced. Spark covered her ears.
Loretta shot from the bed, whipping the covers so hard that she flung Spark into the air. The teddy bear collided with the desk and fell to the floor. Before Loretta could reach the door, it swung open. Light from the hall poured into the room. In the doorway, Dad stood bleary-eyed and unshaven, wearing a frayed T-shirt and boxer shorts. His face looked so different without his glasses.
“Dad!” Loretta said. “Dad, look! Look!”
“What?”
Spark turned to where the monster had been. But the creature was gone, the portal sealed.
“It’s a dream, sweetie,” Dad mumbled.
“No, it was—” Loretta stared at claw mark on the poster, her lip quivering.
“Come on,” Dad said. “Nothing here. Get back in bed.”
“Dad, I swear there was something in here!”
“I know, I know. But it’s gone. And Mom and I are right next door.” His tone suggested that eleven-year-old girls weren’t supposed to have nightmares like this anymore.
Still shaking, Loretta climbed onto the bed.
“And look,” Dad said, “you left poor Spark on the floor.”
Spark lay still, a clump of brown fur, the way she always did when humans were watching. Loretta scooped her up and took her to the bed. She rolled away from Dad, her arm wrapped around Spark’s neck.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” Dad asked.
“I’m fine.”
She wasn’t fine. Dad waited a moment before closing the door.
Loretta’s heart thumped against Spark. The girl wept silently, stopping only when she gasped for air.
“I saw it,” she said. “I saw it.”
Long after a pool of tears gathered on the pillow, Loretta finally drifted off to sleep. Spark lay in the same position, waiting for the sun to rise, listening for the scratching noise.
Spark needed to find Sir Reginald. He would know what to do.
Outside, the overcast sky glowed
white through the window. Loretta stirred, the first sign that she would wake soon. Despite what had happened a few hours earlier, Spark tried to enjoy this quiet moment before the day began. Before this week, Loretta had not slept with her bear in years, preferring to leave Spark on the bookshelf. That was normal for an eleven-year-old. But something had changed in the last few days. Something scared her. Spark should have investigated sooner, but she was simply happy to be close to her friend again.
When the alarm clock buzzed, Loretta rubbed her face, set her feet on the floor, and placed Spark between the two pillows at the head of the bed. Wearing her pastel-blue pajamas, Loretta crept over to the corner of the room. She knelt and touched the hardwood slats and the painted drywall, the place where the portal had opened. Monsters almost never appeared in daytime, and even then, they stayed in dark places—though the one from last night was big enough to break whatever rules he wanted. Spark wanted to scream as Loretta ran her finger over the rip in the Wizard of Oz poster, an inch above the Cowardly Lion’s tail. Definitely a claw mark, but it could easily be dismissed as something else—a shifting of the house, an accidental bump with her backpack. There were countless explanations that did not involve a monster.
Shaking her head, Loretta walked into the hall toward the bathroom. While she was gone, her cell phone buzzed on the dresser. Spark forced herself to remain still when, minutes later, Loretta returned and hastily changed into jeans and a zip-up hoodie. The girl tied her curly raven hair in a bun that sprouted from the crown of her head. Then she grabbed the phone on her way out the door.
In the next room over, Loretta’s older brother Matthew was also on the move. After he put on his shoes, his footsteps became loud clonking sounds. On his way to the stairs, Matthew peeked inside Loretta’s room to see if she was there. Despite the early hour, he wore jeans, a raincoat, and a ballcap. To Spark’s surprise, he also wore a pair of boots. It was unusual to see Matthew ready to go so early on a Saturday morning, especially one as dreary as this.
Every time Spark saw him, it came as a shock. A year older than Loretta, Matthew was growing faster than ever. In another couple of years, he would stand taller than Mom, maybe even Dad too. Sir Reginald was proud, for he watched over Matthew in the same way that Spark watched over Loretta. The bears had a word for it. Loretta was Spark’s dusa—her best friend, the one she was sworn to protect.
Once Matthew’s footsteps faded, Spark rose from her seat and waved to Zed. The monkey still covered his eyes, so Spark needed to yell.
“Monkey, did you see that thing last night?”
“N-no,” he stammered.
“Yes you did!”
Spark vaulted the footboard, landing on the rug. Her legs buckled, but her big butt and stubby tail broke the fall. That’s what they were for.
“You’re not supposed to do that!” Zed said. “What if she comes back?”
“The family’s headed out somewhere,” Spark said.
“Where?”
“I’m not sure. But Loretta’s not coming back anytime soon.”
Zed lowered his hands, but only a little.
“I need to know,” Spark said. “Have you ever seen that monster before?”
“What monster?”
“Stop it, monkey.”
“I kept my eyes closed! I didn’t see anything!”
Zed would never change. He was a court jester, not a knight. Not a protector. When Loretta was a baby with wispy hair, she spent hours flicking Zed’s tail and giggling, her first experience with humor and silliness. Sometimes she would doze off with his ear squeezed between her gums. He made her feel safe. But he did not actually keep her safe. That was Spark’s job.
And anyway, arguing with Zed was a waste of time. Spark needed Sir Reginald. So she went to the closet, which shared a wall with Matthew’s room. That was where Matthew stored Sir Reginald, having grown too old for a bear. Every night at three, Spark would take a quarter from Loretta’s jar of coins and tap on the wall. On the other side, Sir Reginald would repeat the signal. Three simple taps meant that all was well, no monsters. Three at three, they called it. Five taps signaled danger, but they never got that high.
The night before, the monster had appeared after their check-in. Perhaps he wanted the bears to feel safe before he attacked.
This morning, when Spark tapped the wall, no one responded. She tapped again. Still nothing.
Sir Reginald was gone. At the worst possible time.
Spark stepped out of the closet in a daze. She saw no point in pretending to be calm. The monkey would see right through her.
“Is he there?” Zed asked.
“No,” she said, unable to look him in the eye.
“Better take our places, then. Right?”
The League had a rule against what she was about to do: no roaming about the house when humans were around, except in an emergency. Sir Reginald trained her to do it quietly, quickly—while at the same time reminding her to never do it. If the parents ever saw a walking teddy bear, they would lose their minds.
None of that mattered, though. Not after last night.
“I’m going to find out what’s going on here,” Spark said. She headed for the door.
“Hey! You’re not supposed to—”
“I’m not listening.”
Zed clapped his hands. “Stop!” The monkey was not merely reciting the rules. He was terrified to be left alone.
“Listen, Zed. Sir Reginald’s missing. Loretta is acting strange. She hasn’t cuddled with me in years.”
It felt weird to say that out loud.
“And then a monster appears out of nowhere!” she continued. “I want to know what’s happening.”
“Mom and Dad take care of that stuff! Sir Reginald said they handle it.”
“Did you hear what I said? Sir Reginald isn’t here.”
The monkey covered his mouth, muffling his voice. “What if the monster comes back?”
“I’ll be quick.”
The door was cracked open a few inches, wide enough for Spark to squeeze through without moving it. The noises from the kitchen made their way upstairs. Spark heard the cupboard closing and the faucet running. Someone dropped a plate in the sink.
Spark crept down the hallway. The door to Matthew’s room was shut. Spark shimmied up the frame and peeked inside the keyhole. Papers cluttered the desk, the bedsheets were tossed about, and random articles of clothing lay scattered on the floor. Spark whispered Sir Reginald’s name, but did not hear a response. A clump of black fabric on the floor near the closet caught her eye. But it wasn’t the bear, just a winter coat that Matthew needed to stow away for the spring.
Matthew acquired his messy habits from his parents. At the end of the hallway, Mom and Dad’s room was in total chaos. Spark noticed Mom’s makeup kit splayed out on the dresser, its contents spilled beside a poorly folded stack of laundry. Dad’s half-built exercise machine leaned against the wall. The wardrobe doors hung open, and several jackets lay draped over the unmade bed. Mom and Dad never recovered from their early days as parents, and the children were now old enough to notice. “How come I have to clean my room and you don’t?” Loretta often asked. Mom always swore she would clean it soon. Dad’s typical answer was even more annoying: “When you pay for your own room, then it can be as messy as you want.”
Spark also checked the bathroom and the linen closet, but neither yielded clues. She would have to venture downstairs, alone. Something she had never done before. Something Sir Reginald had warned her to never do, to never even think about.
Spark lay on the top step, on her tummy. She poked her head through the bars on the railing. A Persian rug covered the living room floor from the fireplace to the front door. Framed photos lined the mantelpiece, arranged from oldest to newest.
Near the edge of the mantel, a trophy towered over the family photos. It was mounted on a marble base, with a golden movie projector at the top. It was the Spirit Award from the Young Filmmakers contest, given to the most popular entry in the competition. Matthew and Loretta won it the year before for their short film, a space-opera parody that earned a standing ovation. Spark allowed herself a smile when she saw it. Even during a crisis, a reminder that her dusa was special always made her a little happier.
