The Monsters of Morley Manor, Page 3

  Albert sat down, cross-legged, his shoulders drooping, his hump nearly as high as his head. “I’ve been shrunk!” he moaned. He sounded really depressed. I suppose you couldn’t blame him. Suddenly he jumped to his feet. “Where are the others?”

  “In the box,” I replied.

  “The box?”

  “The box you came in,” explained Sarah.

  “Well, go get them! Then we have to figure out a way to get back to our normal size.” He looked around, then said, “Wait a minute. What year is this? It is 1948, isn’t it?”

  From the tone of his voice, I could tell he had a pretty good idea that it wasn’t 1948. But when I told him he was off by more than fifty years, he screamed.

  “Martin did this! Oh, I knew he was up to no good. Come on, we have to wake up the others!”

  “What’s the hurry?” I asked, not sure I wanted to deal with five little monsters.

  Albert leaped from the sink, grabbed the front of my pajamas, and scrambled up my chest like a sailor climbing a ship’s rigging. I jumped backward and tried to brush him off, but he was too strong. Once he had reached my shoulder he stuck his head in my ear and bellowed, “The hurry is, they’re my family and I don’t want them frozen! Besides, I’m not the smart one. We need Gaspar and Ludmilla. Now go get them!”

  Jeez. And I thought Mr. Perkins was a problem.

  We started down the hall to fetch the other monsters, Albert riding in the big pocket on the left side of my bathrobe. Sarah positioned herself on the other side of me, then tugged my sleeve and whispered, “Anthony, do you think this is a good idea?”

  “It’s probably a terrible idea,” I replied. “But it’s the most interesting thing we’ve ever done. Besides, I don’t think we could talk Albert out of it. And even if we could . . .”

  Sarah nodded as my voice trailed off. I sensed that, like me, she was thinking about the little monsters having been frozen (or whatever) for over fifty years. It was time to thaw them out.

  When we got to my room, I set Albert on my desk. He ran to the box. “Boss!” he cried in horror when he saw Gaspar. “Oh, boss, boss, what has that maniac done to you?”

  “I take it he didn’t always look like that?” I asked, picking up the lizard-headed monster.

  “I’m not worried about how he looks, you idiot,” Albert said. “We can change that. It’s the fact that he’s been shrunk and turned into a statue that has me upset.” He walked along the front of the box, gazing into each compartment. “Poor Melisande,” he sighed. “Poor Ludmilla. Asleep for over half a century.”

  “Not what you’d call sleeping beauties,” I remarked.

  “Beauty is as beauty does,” snapped Albert. He stopped in front of the last slot, the one with the wolfman-type guy. “Alas, poor Bob,” he said, patting the figurine on the head. “Trapped in this horrible form all these years.”

  “So Bob didn’t always look like that, either?” asked Sarah.

  Albert shook his head. “Only occasionally. He’s were.”

  “Were what?” I asked. Then I got it. “Oh! You mean he’s a werewolf?”

  “Not quite,” said Albert. “Come on, let’s stop with the jabbering and wake them up.”

  I put Gaspar back in the box, then picked up the whole set. With Albert on my shoulder and Sarah at my side, I headed back to the bathroom.

  It was monster time.

  4

  The Family Morleskievich

  PUTTING ALBERT in the sink had made it act like a bubbling stew pot. Dropping in four monsters at once just about turned it into a geyser. Water sprayed everywhere, coming out so forcefully it hit the ceiling (not to mention splashing all over me and Sarah). As before, a weird green glow lit the water from within.

  The bubbling stopped. The glow faded. Four coughing, gagging little monsters climbed out of the sink. They were wet, bedraggled, and extremely confused. But they were also overjoyed to see one another.

  “Melisande!” shouted Ludmilla.

  “Ludmilla!” shouted Melisande.

  They threw their arms around each other and hugged. Then Melisande looked up and spotted me and Sarah. Her snakes began writhing in horror, and she let out a scream.

  It was amazingly loud for someone so tiny.

  I heard an answering scream, and realized Mr. Perkins was on the prowl. I wondered if he thought Melisande was another monkey. I shut the bathroom door, just to be safe.

  The other monsters had looked up when Melisande screamed. Their eyes went wide and they cowered together—except for Gaspar, the lizard-headed guy. He just closed his eyes and heaved a deep sigh.

  Despite Albert’s attempts to assure Ludmilla and Melisande that Sarah and I were friendly, it took several minutes for them to settle down. When they finally did, Albert introduced first Sarah, then me.

  “They were the ones who disenchanted us,” he said, sounding at least as surprised as he was grateful.

  Gaspar looked up at us, then made a deep bow. It was clear he wasn’t used to doing that, because he bumped his nose against the sink. He stood up and straightened his lab coat, obviously trying to pretend the bump had not happened. In a deep voice, with his long tongue flicking in and out, he said, “My profound thanks to you for releasing me and my family from our imprisonment.”

  Albert had said something about family, too.

  “So you guys are all, like, related?” I asked.

  Gaspar smiled—which was somewhat terrifying, given how many teeth he had. “Well, Albert isn’t actually family—though he has worked for me for so long that it often feels as if he is. But Ludmilla and Melisande are my sisters. And Bob is our faithful dog.”

  “Dog?” cried Sarah. “I thought he was a werewolf!”

  Gaspar made a hissing noise, which I found very disturbing until I finally realized it was laughter.

  “Bob is a werehuman,” he explained. “Most of the time he’s a cocker spaniel. But when the moon is full he turns into something sort of like a human being. It’s very frightening for him.”

  Bob whined in agreement.

  Gaspar tapped the end of his own long face and said, “Hmmm. There must be a full moon tonight, or Bob would have returned to his normal form. At least, I think he would. It’s hard to say how what we have been through would affect his condition.”

  “How did you get so small?” Sarah asked.

  Gaspar’s eyes grew wide. “Treachery!” he replied, raising a clenched fist into the air. “Foul, foul treachery. It was the work of my brother, Martin. He was the one who shrank us.”

  “Did he turn you into monsters, too?” I asked.

  “Oh, no!” hissed Melisande, the words coming from the snakes on her head rather than from her mouth. “We did that oursssselvessss! Only we don’t like the word monssssterssss. We prefer to ssssay we are . . . sssspecial.”

  “You wanted to be mons—er . . . special?” asked Sarah in astonishment.

  Ludmilla smiled, showing her fangs. “Vell, it seemed like a good idea at the time.” Her accent reminded me of Bela Lugosi in Dracula. Since none of the others had that accent, and since she was supposed to be their sister, I wondered if she was faking it, or if it came with the transformation that had made her a vampire to begin with.

  Bob sat down and tried to scratch behind his left ear with his foot. He couldn’t quite manage it, though.

  Melisande patted his head sympathetically, then scratched behind the ear for him.

  “Do you know where our enemy is?” asked Gaspar, his forked tongue flicking between his thin lips. “Now that we are free, there is a score to settle, and we must—”

  Albert tugged at his lab coat. “Listen, boss, there’s something you need to know.”

  “What?” asked Gaspar impatiently.

  “We’ve been sleeping for over fifty years!”

  Gaspar threw back his head and hissed in rage. He clenched his fists and waved them at the ceiling. His thick tail thrashed back and forth. “Perfidy upon perfidy!” he cried. “Now
does the world say, ‘Gaspar, you were a fool, a fool to trust your scheming brother.’” He staggered, then gasped. “Ethel! What about Ethel?”

  “Now, boss,” said Albert. “Don’t get yourself in a state.”

  “Who’s Ethel?” asked Sarah.

  Gaspar dropped his hands to his sides. Chest heaving, he said, “I don’t wish to speak of it.” He narrowed his eyes. “Does Martin still live?”

  I hesitated, not sure how he would take the news.

  “Well?” he demanded.

  “Well,” I said, “if Martin was the guy we used to call Old Man Morley, he died last month.”

  Gaspar hissed again. “No chance to say good-bye. No time to heal old wounds. O world, o world, why must you be so dark?” Suddenly he stood up straight and declared, “We have to get back to the house as soon as possible!”

  “Why?” asked Sarah.

  “It issss the only way for ussss to return to our proper ssssizzzze,” hissed the snakes on Melisande’s head, writhing in agitation.

  “The only way?” I asked nervously.

  “Absolutely,” said Gaspar. He sounded desperate. “Everything we need is in my laboratory—not only the scientific equipment but also the ingredients for my spells.”

  “You use science and magic?” asked Sarah.

  “Vy does that surprise you?” asked Ludmilla, showing her fangs.

  Sarah shrugged “I don’t know. It just seems weird.”

  “Sarah’s right,” I said, which were words I almost never spoke. “In the movies they always use either science or magic to do stuff, but not both.”

  Gaspar sighed, as if it was an old argument. “That represents a small-minded view of the world,” he said. “But then, people always do like to put things in little boxes.”

  I didn’t mention that he had been in a little box when I found him.

  “It’s like thinking that an artist should either paint pictures or make statues, but not both,” he continued. “But what law says you can’t combine things? After all, the ancient Greeks used to paint their statues.”

  I looked at him in surprise. “Are you positive about that? I’ve seen pictures of those statues. They sure didn’t look painted to me.”

  “It wore off,” snapped Gaspar. His tongue flicked over his sharp little teeth, giving him a dangerous look.

  I decided not to argue.

  “The point is,” he said, a little more calmly, “you should not limit your possibilities.”

  “Actually, boss,” put in Albert, “the main point right now is that we have to get back to Morley Manor if we’re ever going to get unshrunk.”

  Gaspar put a hand on Albert’s nonhumpy shoulder. “You are correct, as usual, old friend.”

  I glanced uneasily at Sarah, then said, “I’m afraid there’s a small problem.”

  “Of course there’s a problem,” said Gaspar wearily. “This is life. There’s always a problem. Well, what is it this time?”

  When Sarah blurted out the answer—“They’re going to start tearing down Morley Manor tomorrow morning!”—all five little monsters began to carry on something awful. Melisande’s snakes had a hissy fit. Ludmilla turned into an inch-long bat and fluttered around like a moth at a candle. Gaspar put his arm to his brow like some tragic hero. “O grim and unrelenting world!” he cried, tipping back his head. “That a man’s home should be so easily wrenched from his grasp. Does evil never take a holiday? Does sorrow never cease its sordid work?”

  “Don’t worry, boss, you’ll think of something,” said Albert. At the same time, Bob howled a tiny, piteous howl.

  “Oh, stop!” said Sarah at last. “If it’s that important, we’ll take you back tonight.”

  “We will?” I asked in surprise.

  “We have to, Anthony,” said Sarah, her voice urgent. “They need our help.”

  I realized she was right. Tonight was the last chance the monsters would have to get back to their regular size.

  On the other hand, I wasn’t sure that having them get big again was such a good idea. Did we really want five full-size monsters running around Owl’s Roost?

  As if he had read my mind, Gaspar said, “Not only is it the only way for us to return to our regular size, it is the only way for us to return home and—what is the phrase?—get out of your hair.”

  Melisande’s snakes hissed in agreement.

  This confused me. “I thought this was where you lived. I mean, here in Owl’s Roost. Or do you mean back to your own time?”

  “Our other home,” hissed Melisande’s snakes. “Beyond the Sssstarry Door.”

  “What’s the Starry Door?” asked Sarah.

  “Never mind that now,” snapped Gaspar, giving Melisande a dark look. “If we don’t get back to Morley Manor before they tear it down, we’ll be stuck at this size. Forever.”

  “And ve vill haf to stay vith you,” added Ludmilla, who had morphed back to her human shape. Then she licked her lips and grinned in a way that made me very uncomfortable.

  Ludmilla’s grin settled it. While it might be cool to have the monsters around for a while, I didn’t think I wanted it to be a permanent situation. Who knew how long Ludmilla could control herself?

  But as much as I wanted to help them—not to mention get them out of the house—I was still a little nervous about what might happen when they got back to full size.

  “Uh—if we do help you get big, you won’t eat us, or drink our blood, or anything like that, will you?” I asked nervously.

  Gaspar was outraged. “What kind of people do you think we are?” he cried, his eyes blazing.

  I spread my hands. “I don’t have the slightest idea!”

  Ludmilla put a hand on Gaspar’s shoulder and whispered in his ear. I could see him relax a little. Turning to me, he said, “My apologies for my outburst. Your concern is not unfounded. Let us see if we can reduce it a bit. Family! Assemble!”

  Quickly all five monsters got in a line. Placing his clenched fist over his heart, Gaspar said, “In return for your assistance, we pledge to you—” He paused, then looked at us curiously. “What are your names, please?”

  “I’m Anthony Walker. And this is my sister, Sarah.”

  Gaspar nodded solemnly. “In return for your assistance, we pledge to you, Anthony Walker and Sarah Walker, our friendship, our support in time of need, our sacred honor, and our hope for a better tomorrow. Thus speaks the Family Morleskievich!”

  “Thus speaks the Family Morleskievich!” shouted the rest of them (except Bob, of course).

  Then all five monsters made a deep bow in our direction. I noticed that Gaspar managed to keep from bumping his nose this time.

  “Morleskievich?” asked Sarah.

  “Our name before we came to America,” said Gaspar. “We only use it for our most serious oaths.”

  Well, they could have been lying. But we decided to believe them.

  It wasn’t as if we had much choice.

  “We have to go get dressed,” I said.

  “We will wait for you here,” said Gaspar.

  I opened the door to the hallway. To my horror, Mr. Perkins came bounding into the room. I tried to catch him, but missed.

  Hissing and snarling, the vicious monkey headed straight for our tiny friends.

  5

  Gaspar’s Story

  WHAT HAPPENED NEXT happened very fast. “Family Morleskievich, prepare for battle!” cried Gaspar.

  Instantly, Ludmilla turned back into a bat. She flew toward Mr. Perkins and began to dive-bomb his head, causing him to shriek in concern. At the same time, Bob the werehuman dropped into a crouch and began snarling in a truly frightening fashion.

  Even more astonishing was the way that Gaspar turned his back to Mr. Perkins and dropped to one knee. Albert came running toward him, put one foot in Gaspar’s cupped hands, and next thing I knew was flying through the air, right toward Mr. Perkins. He landed on the monkey’s stomach and began climbing up his chest. Mr. Perkins, shrieking in dismay,
tried to paw the tiny hunchback off, but Ludmilla kept distracting him.

  Only Melisande didn’t join in the battle. “You sssshouldn’t be sssso mean to him,” hissed her snakes, which were tangling around themselves in their excitement.

  “Survival first, kindness second!” roared Gaspar. He turned back to Mr. Perkins and began snapping at his toes with his lizardy head.

  The monkey had had enough. Turning, he barreled out of the bathroom and down the hall, shrieking as he went. For a second I was afraid he had taken Albert with him. Then I saw the hunchback’s fierce little face peering around the edge of the door, so he must have jumped off when Mr. Perkins decided to flee.

  “Well done, family!” said Gaspar.

  “I sssstill think it wassss mean,” said Melisande’s snakes. Letting them do the speaking left her free to make a pouty face.

  “I thought it was great!” I said. “That monkey’s been a bully since the day he got here. It’s about time someone taught him a lesson.”

  “Pleased to be of service,” said Gaspar. “Now, if you would be so kind as to conduct us to our home?”

  “We still have to get dressed,” I said.

  Gaspar nodded. “A sensible choice. Man should not face the elements without proper protection.”

  “Do you think we should wake up Gramma?” asked Sarah.

  I made my yeah, right! face at her.

  She sighed. “I guess you’re right. Only it’s kind of scary to think about going alone.”

  “You von’t be alone,” said Ludmilla. “You’ll haf us!”

  “And it’s not like anyone lives there now,” I said, trying to sound braver than I felt.

  “I wouldn’t necessarily count on that,” muttered Gaspar.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked sharply.

  He shrugged. “Our world is vast and strange, Anthony. Our world is vast and strange.”

  “Brother issss a bit of a philossssopher,” hissed Melisande, gazing at him lovingly.

  THE CLOCK on the kitchen wall said 11:45.

  Gramma Walker was snoring quietly in her bedroom.