Chapter 2. Who Tricks the Tricksters?
The next day, when Lisa learned that there was no news from Nick’s father, she shook her head.“It’s Friday already, and we still haven’t heard a word from him,” she said and frowned at Nick as if he was the one to be blamed for his father’s silence. “Maybe their generator broke or they are busy and just don’t have time.”
“I don’t know. I hope you’re right,” Nick said. His dad never went silent for so long. Lisa looked up into his eyes.
“Hey, cheer up.” She clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t forget, today is Halloween. Listen—” She glanced around and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Do you have to invite Werner?”
“What do you have against him?” Nick asked. “He’s a cool guy.”
“Sure, he’s ‘cool,’” Lisa said with sarcasm. “He also likes soccer and plays tennis.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
Lisa pursed her lips.
“Can’t you see? He’s fake! I don’t trust him.”
“C’mon, Lis. You met the guy five days ago. You don’t even know him.”
“I don’t want to know him at all!” she said, stamped her foot, turned, and marched down the hall.
Nick had known Lisa for a long time and such a reaction was unusual. He caught up with her at the classroom door.
“Lis, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing! Let me go.”
Nick pulled her aside. People were hurrying past by throwing curious glances at them. Oh, great! Rumors will fly around the school tomorrow.
“Let’s do this,” Nick said. “He’ll come today—and please don’t argue—I’ve already invited him. It would be too embarrassing to go back on that. But the next time you’ll decide who to invite.”
Lisa looked away, pretending to be pondering.
“C’mon, quit playing the time. We are running late.”
“OK. Let him come this time,” she said graciously. “I’ll bring a pumpkin pie.”
“Who baked it, you or your mom?”
Lisa eyed him with suspicion. “My mom, of course. Why? If you’d like me to bake a pie—”
“No,” Nick said quickly. “I meant to say you can try, but why take the risk? Your mother makes them pretty good.”
“Pretty good, eh?” Lisa repeated with emphasis. “Last year you weren’t so reserved in your judgment.”
“Okay. She makes them really delicious,” Nick said, and they laughed.
“At six then?” Lisa asked.
“At six.”
“You aren’t going to bring the mask from last year, are you? I still have nightmares about that freak.”
“That’s what a freak mask is for,” Nick said. “To turn your dreams into a nightmare. But don’t be afraid. Today, I’ll be a dullahan.”
“A what?”
Nick lowered his voice to imitate a TV commercial. “The headless rider on a black horse who carries his own head under his arm. Whoo.” He raised hands above his head, moved fingers and swayed in slow motion.
“Falconara! Stop fooling around.”
Mrs. Rosanna, their biology teacher, gave Nick a disapproving look as she passed by to the classroom. Lisa and Nick followed her.
♦
The best part of Halloween was trick-or-treating. There was a time when Nick, like all other kids, used to dress up in a costume and go door to door asking for candy. Two Halloweens ago when his father went on a business trip, Nick hatched up a better idea. He dressed up as a dead man and colored his face with face paint. Green smudges around his eyes made them look creepy. With the white blanket over his head and a flashlight illuminating his face from below, he greeted the guests.
When Lisa and Jam joined Nick last year, the Falconaras’ house gained popularity. This year Jam was an alien android. Dressed in all black, with plastic elbow and knee pads, wearing a helmet with flashing LEDs, and covered from head to toe in cables and tubes, he looked intimidating. On the other hand, Lisa looked totally harmless in her fluffy dress. Jam told her that her costume belonged to a fairy rather than a witch.
“You won’t scare anyone with this!” Jam argued. “Get yourself a broken nose or a hump. Everyone knows that a witch is a hag.”
“I’m not a hag. You can get a nose for yourself, but I like it this way,” Lisa said, spinning in front of a mirror and straightening her flowery dress.
In the evening Mrs. Zubrowski brought the pumpkin pie and apple cider. Before leaving, she reminded Lisa to be home at ten o’clock.
“Mom! Tomorrow’s Saturday,” Lisa pleaded.
“At ten,” Mrs. Zubrowski said with a tone of finality.
Ethan showed up without a costume. Lisa threw a meaningful look at Nick. He shrugged but decided not to say anything. Jam, however, could not resist.
“Ethan, where do you think you are? This isn’t math class. This is a Halloween party. Halloween, do you understand? What are you going to do without a costume or at least a mask?”
“Who said I don’t have a mask?” Ethan said.
He turned away, pulled several items out of his pockets and did something with his face. Then he wrapped himself in the sofa blanket and turned back.
Nick flinched.
“Wow!” Jam whispered.
Ethan had gone and instead they saw a dwarf wearing a cloak and a pointy hat. His cunning eyes watched them cautiously from behind a pair of the thick-rimmed glasses. When he shook his head angrily, the tip of his large rubber curved nose jumped up and down over the menacing bushy mustache that covered his upper lip. Now they all were ready.
♦
The first visitors appeared around six o’clock in the evening. They were the youngest kids who came with their parents, and Lisa handled them in her usual way. She babbled or murmured something that was supposed to sound like incantations, waved her magic wand and handed out candy. The boys, meanwhile, watched the old black-and-white Dracula, looking forward to nightfall.
When the first stars appeared in the violet-blue sky, the older kids from the neighborhood began circling around. Lisa had her observation post on the second floor in the loft and was quick to spot the next approaching group.
“They’re coming!” she announced and picking up her dress, hurried down the staircase into the lobby.
The fun began.
Jam, in a robotic voice, was demanding from the visitors an immediate surrender while a laser pointer attached to his helmet was shooting a red beam into the night sky. He reached out with his arm, his hand in a hockey glove equipped with blinking LEDs. A grumpy dwarf was peeking out from under his elbow insisting on selling to the visitors an outdated math textbook and becoming agitated and angry when people refused to buy anything from him. Wrapped in a bed sheet, Nick stood on a chair behind them, waving his arms and making sounds like an owl, and pretending he was about to fall out of the door on the heads of the guests. And if Jam’s glove suddenly buzzed, and the lights flashed, and if someone pushed Nick over and he actually fell out on the porch, everything would end up even better than planned.
After several successful pranks, Lisa called everyone to the table.
“Smells delicious,” Jam said, choosing a plate with the biggest piece of pie.
“Remember last year’s corn maze at the Apple Joe Farm?” Nick asked. “Their store smelt like this.” He took a bite of pie and sipped from a cup.
“Those were cinnamon roll smells,” Lisa explained. “My favorite.” She was an expert on rolls, as well as Danish, croissants, strudels, panettone and other delicious things. The watch on Nick’s wrist made a gentle sound and Lisa jumped in her seat.
“Your dad’s calling!”
Nick slipped from the chair and ran upstairs. “Don’t finish it without me!” he shouted over his shoulder.
♦
Communication was poor. Interference lines ran across the screen, his father’s face zoomed in and out, freezing up every other second.
“Hello, Nick.” The voice, though distorted with the background noise, was still recognizable. “How are you?”
“What happened?” Nick asked. “You haven’t called for a week!”
His father glanced over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Nick. Are you alone?”
“We’re having a Halloween party. The guys are downstairs.”
“Halloween? Of course …” He rubbed his forehead, looking tired and somehow worried. “I need you to do one thing for me. There is a small mahogany box in the safe.”
“The one with the clay tablet with the Babylonian map on it?”
His father nodded. “Yes. Take the box and hide it elsewhere, the Zubrowski house, for example. And tell no one about this.”
“Dad?” Nick asked, more alarmed than puzzled. “What’s going on?”
“All I can tell you now is the tablet must not be found.”
Nick nodded.
“I almost forgot,” his father said. “I changed the safe code before I left. It’s your mom’s birthday and your—”
The image flickered and his father’s face froze, the connection broke down and the screen went black. Nick tried several times to call but to no avail. As he was leaving the room, he came face to face with Ethan.
“Got lost in the dark. Where’s the bathroom?”
“Downstairs near the kitchen. Or you can use this one at the end of the hall,” Nick pointed.
When he returned to the table, Lisa demanded a full report on Nick’s conversation with his father.
“There isn’t much to tell,” he said, avoiding her eyes. “He’s fine.”
“Fine?” Lisa asked. “Is that all you can say?”
A sudden rustle at the front door saved Nick from the further interrogation. They looked at each other in surprise.
“Did you lock the door?” Lisa asked.
“I did. And I turned off the lights on the porch,” Nick said.
“Then never mind. They should’ve known we don’t want any more visitors.”
They returned to their pies only to be interrupted by a new rasping noise.
“Persistence is a virtue,” Lisa quoted their history teacher’s favorite saying.
“Looks like late guests,” Jam said gleefully, rising from his chair. “Well, they asked for it. There’ll be no mercy.”
He put on his glove and adjusted the laser pointer on the helmet. Nick threw the bed sheet over his head.
“Don’t scare the kids. It’s late,” Lisa reminded them.
Nick grinned, walked to the door, opened it and froze. These were not kids. A tall figure wrapped in a dark ragged cloak floated a few inches above the ground. The deep shadow of the hood hid his face. Thick fog was swirling around his feet. A sudden gust of breeze swayed the figure from side to side, like a candle flame in a draft.
Nick swallowed.
“Er—can I help you?” he squeezed out the first thing that came to his mind.
The stranger did not say a word. His hand moving toward Nick froze. Nick looked closer and realized it was not a hand at all. He saw three quivering toes, with the middle being the longest. The fourth toe was facing backward and just like other three ended with a black two-inch curved talon. The gray wrinkled skin with bumps and hairs was not human. Like the foot of a bird, Nick thought. A really large bird. Tricking the tricksters, was his second immediate thought. Some parents had decided to get even with him. The next second he jumped when the figure stirred suddenly. A hiss came from under the hood. Nick leaned over to see the stranger’s face, but it was too dark, and the hood was too deep.
“Babylon,” the visitor said in a harsh voice. He moved his hideous hand toward Nick but stopped again as though he hit an invisible barrier.
“Wow!” Jam’s voice from behind Nick’s back. “A full-size, motion-activated Grim Reaper!” He stepped forward and stood at the doorway. “Resistance is futile. Surrender and your life will be spared.” He pointed his gloved hand toward the stranger. The Reaper cocked his head as though in amusement. Nick did not see his face, but he had a strong feeling that the Grim Reaper was looking at the glove. The flashing lights on the glove gave a short crackling sound, puffed in smoke and melted.
“What? What the hell?” Jam yelled, backing away and ripping the glove off his hand. He tripped over the edge of the carpet and came crashing on the floor, knocking down the console table. The glove flew off his hand and landed at the stranger’s feet.
“What’s going on?” Lisa stepped into the foyer, holding a cup of cider in one hand and a piece of pie in another.
“I can’t believe it! Short circuit!” Jam said, pointing to the smoking glove.
“Map,” the Grim Reaper demanded in an almost unintelligible voice, his hand reaching out.
He moved, trying to enter the house, but something was holding him back. The torn rags of his dirty cloak fluttered about him as though he was facing a strong wind. As he leaned forward, the folds of his ragged robe pulled back from his arms revealing slimy greenish skin, but no matter how hard he tried, an invisible barrier prevented him from taking a step forward. Violent convulsions shook his body. The hem of his robe caught fire. The Reaper made a choking sound and slowly raised his head. Nick looked into his face and froze with his mouth open.
“What are you waiting for?”
Lisa squeezed in front of Nick and with a wide swing, emptied her cup of apple cider into the fire. Thick steam rose from the Reaper. He cringed, shivered, and began to melt like a snowman in April. The flames disappeared. The Reaper’s outstretched, clawed hand scratched the air and twitched violently. Nick, Jam, and Lisa huddled on the doorstep, watching the Grim Reaper turn into a ghost, the street lights glimmering through his fading form. After a few seconds, it was all over. The Reaper was gone, leaving behind a wet, stinking spot with a few blotches of fog.
“What the hell just happened?” Jam whispered.
“Who was it?” Lisa asked. “What did he want?”
“Said something about Babylon,” Jam muttered, stepping carefully over the threshold and peering down the empty street.
“Babylon!” Nick gasped.
He spun around, dashed through the room and sped up the stairs two at a time. When he burst into the office, Ethan was standing by the open safe, holding the clay tablet. The open mahogany box lay at his feet.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” he said, his eyes narrowed. “Let me go and everything will be fine.”
Nick lunged at him but Ethan leaped behind the table. Nick threw himself across his path, grabbed his leg and they crashed to the floor. Struggling, they rolled over and knocked down the globe. Ethan fought with his right hand, his left clutching the tablet. Nick tried to grab it, but at that moment Ethan gave him a terrible blow. For a split second, Nick lost orientation and loosened his grip. Ethan jumped to his feet and disappeared into the hallway.
“Stop him!” Nick shouted, scrambling to his feet.
He heard stamping feet followed by a scream. Something big crashed in the living room. Nick galloped down the stairs. Jam, face down, lay next to the giant overturned Moroccan amphora. He groaned and stirred, like a rhino stuck in a swamp. Lisa sat on the floor against the sofa, pinching her bleeding nose. She grimaced at Nick as he looked around.
“He’s gone,” she said grimly.
Rubbing his head, Jam crawled to the sofa and sunk down next to Lisa. Nick ran a towel in cold water and handed it to Lisa.
“Guess you don’t need a fake nose anymore,” Jam said, throwing a sideways glance at her.
“Thank you,” she said sarcastically and sniffed. “You’re lucky you didn’t put your nose out the door instead of your stupid glove.”
They laughed. Nick felt the bruise under his eye and looked at the amphora lying on its side.
“Sorry about the vase,” Jam said. “Your father won’t forgive me.”
“A couple of scratches are not the problem,” Lisa said. “What will he say about this?”
With her foot, she pushed the huge vessel. It rolled over. There, scattered in the rusty dust, lay tiny shattered pieces—all that was left of the Babylonian Map of the World.