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  After taking the colander from me, Meghan got back to work washing and peeling the potatoes. My brothers continued to shoot imaginary fireballs at one another, and that icy chill still clung to my skin.

  Aaaiiidennn ...

  I jumped and felt my eyes grow wide and the blood drain from my face. A voice, like the crackle of dry bones snapping under heavy feet, had called my name. I spun around, wondering if Logan and Bradley had heard it.

  “Die! Die you orange mutant!” Logan was hissing at the TV, as he pressed the button on his controller with the enthusiasm of a woodpecker.

  Bradley only laughed, a maniacal cackle. “I don’t think so! You can’t get past my shield!”

  No. As crazy as their conversation was, it hadn’t been them who’d said my name, and clearly, they hadn’t heard it.

  I glanced up at Meghan. She was still peeling the potatoes. She hadn’t heard it, either. The voice was in my head.

  As if it read my thoughts, the voice spoke again.

  Little Fae-child ... it crooned in that eerie whisper.

  This time, I didn’t check to see if anyone else heard. All I wanted to do was not be scared anymore. Taking three steps forward, I flung my arms around Meghan’s leg and held on tight, burying my face against her jeans right above her knee. I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed. Please, please go away, whoever you are!

  My plea was answered with a raspy chuckle, followed by, Hello, little Fae-child. Do you know what you are?

  It was such a cold voice, with the kind of tone that witches used in movies when they were trying to make kids think they were nice, when really they just wanted to stick you in a great big cauldron and turn you into stew.

  I used to think witches and goblins and monsters were all make-believe, especially since Logan and Bradley had always try to scare me and Jack and Joey with stories about them. At first, I thought they could see the monsters too, but when they started describing what they looked like, I knew they were only teasing. If they really knew about them, they would be even more scared than me, I bet. The ghoulies didn’t scare me so much anymore, since I had grown used to them, but this strange voice terrified me.

  I clung to my big sister for a long time. When the voice didn’t return, I stole a glance upward only to find Meggy standing unnaturally still, the potato peeler gripped tightly in one hand, her other palm pressed against the rim of the sink. Her eyes were fixed on something outside the window. Curious, I followed her gaze. What I saw then frightened me so much I gasped, letting my sister’s leg go. It was the black bird, only it looked as if it had grown in size. The strange, dark red glow had grown, too, seeping from the bird like some demon fog. Long, wispy tendrils of it crawled down the trunk of the tree and over the branches, the pointed ends looking like earth worms seeking damp soil to burrow into. One of the tendrils had pulled away from the tree and was stretching toward the window.

  My instincts told me to run, even as my conscience insisted I stay and guard my big sister. I took several steps back and opened my mouth, wanting to scream. I must have made some sound because Meghan snapped out of her daze, her hands jerking up as if returning to the chore she had forgotten about. Her hands must have moved too fast because instead of peeling the potato skin, the peeler slipped and cut her knuckle.

  “Crud!” Meghan hissed, dropping the peeler and clutching her hand.

  “Meghan? Are you okay?”

  I jumped. When did Mom get home?

  “Bradley! Logan! Turn those video games off and finish the potatoes. I need to see to your sister’s hand.”

  All around me, chaos erupted. Groaning, Logan and Bradley obeyed, shuffling into the kitchen with glum looks on their faces. Mom was pulling Meghan down the hallway toward the bathroom and Jack and Joey, recently released from the captivity of the day care center, started chasing each other around the house, screeching in delight.

  As my two older brothers commenced with the potato peeling, resuming their fight, this time using soggy potato peels instead of fireballs and magical shields, I quietly snuck out of the kitchen and headed for the room I shared with the twins. Jack and Joey hardly noticed as I disappeared down the hallway, having abandoned their chase game for the toy basket kept next to the couch.

  I passed the bathroom on the way, peeking in to make sure Meghan was okay. Mom was clucking like a hen while my sister tried to assure her it was only a nick. Meggy didn’t see me as I passed, but she looked shaken, no matter how she tried to reassure Mom. Her skin was pale, and her eyes were shifting color faster than usual. Had she heard the voice as well? Had she seen what I’d seen?

  Hoping that the horrible bird was gone now and the strange voice with it, I slipped into my room and climbed onto my bed. Although the window on the far wall looked out over the opposite side of our yard, I closed the blinds anyway. It took me a long time to get the plastic rod to twirl in the right direction, but once I could no longer see any daylight, I breathed a sigh of relief. Selecting one of my favorite comic books, one sporting a hero wearing green, I had curled up on my pillow and read until Mom called us all into the kitchen for dinner.

  “Aiden, honey, did you hear me?”

  I blinked and glanced up to find my mom turned in the driver’s seat and giving me a worried look. We were home and parked in our driveway. When had that happened? I shook my head. No. I hadn’t heard her. I had been so preoccupied with recalling the incident in the kitchen with Meggy and the weird voice that I hadn’t even noticed most of the drive home, let alone what Mom had been saying.

  She smiled kindly and said, “We are going to see Dr. Sellers tomorrow morning. We are going to try this medication, and if it doesn’t help, you won’t have to keep taking it, okay?”

  Will it make me sick? Will it make me different? Will it make the creepy voice go away for good and make it so I don’t see the ghoulies anymore?

  Knowing none of those words would ever come out of my mouth, I simply said, “Kay.”

  Mom smiled and ruffled my hair, then released her seat belt and stepped out of the car. Although it had scared me, I was glad I remembered everything. If the black bird and the ghoulies were really trying to hurt me or Meghan, knowing as much about them as I could might help someday.

  Not wanting to linger in the car, especially if the crow was back, I quickly unsnapped my seatbelt and climbed out onto the concrete after my mom. The car door slammed shut a little harder than I had meant it to, but I didn’t let the guilt get to me. Instead, I hurried toward Mom, grabbing her hand as we walked the short distance to the house. I didn’t even look into the trees. The last thing I wanted to see was that black bird staring at me with glowing red eyes again.

  Part Three

  The Green Man

  Wednesday was the slowest day ever. I didn’t go to school because Mom and I had the appointment with Dr. Sellers in the middle of the morning. She said that since it would take us a while to get done with the appointment, we might as well stay home. She had called the high school the day before to get a substitute teacher, so I got to spend the morning with my mom. We watched cartoons, and Mom helped me put together my Halloween costume.

  Unlike Bradley and Logan, who had picked out their costumes weeks ago, and Jack and Joey, who were too young to care what they were for Halloween, I was a little more particular about what I dressed as. I never liked the costumes at the stores, so I always had Mom or Dad or Meggy help me make something. This year, I wanted to be a super hero from one of my favorite comics, but I wanted to make it a little different by adding a cape and a mask instead of a helmet. I had my old green sweatpants and sweatshirt (since green was my favorite color), and while we had been shopping for my older brothers’ costumes, we had stopped by the bath aisle where I’d found a nice, big, bright green towel to use as a cape. With a little bit of glue, glitter and paint, Mom was now helping me finish up my mask.

  At ten o’clock, we left for the doctor’s office, my mask drying atop a paper plate on the kitchen table. Dr. Sellers
was really nice, and she always gave me a sucker when we left, especially if I had to get a shot. Today, I didn’t need a shot. She mostly talked to my mom and then scribbled something on her clipboard. On the way out, my mom picked up a bag from the lobby. The new medicine I was going to try.

  “Dr. Sellers says you can start taking this tomorrow,” she said, as we returned to the car.

  I nodded somberly, my mouth too full of lime sucker to say anything.

  When we got home, it was lunch time, so Mom made us some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and I drew and colored in my sketchbook while Mom did some work on her laptop. Later that afternoon, we had to pick up Logan, Bradley, Jack and Joey, and by the time we returned home, we were all bursting to get out of the car.

  I looked for Meggy when I walked through the front door. It was after three, so she should have been home, but she was probably in her room studying. Meghan studies a lot, but most of the time I think she just likes the quiet of her bedroom. It can get pretty noisy with all us boys running around the house. Sometimes, I wish it was just her and me, and then I feel bad for wishing it. I love all my siblings, but I think I’m more like Meggy when it comes to quiet time.

  The twins had scattered all of their toys over the living room floor, and Bradley and Logan were on the side of the house where the basketball hoop was attached, practicing their shots.

  I padded across the carpet, sidestepping a herd of plastic triceratops and an army of small, dark green soldiers as I aimed for the sliding glass door in the kitchen.

  “Outside,” I said to Mom as I passed.

  “Okay, honey,” she responded as she chopped vegetables and tossed them into a frying pan. “Be careful. You know how competitive your brothers can get.”

  I nodded and with great effort, heaved the door open and then slammed it shut behind me. The only reason Mom let me go out with my older brothers alone was because she could check on us through the glass door every now and then.

  Outside, the air was crisp and cool, but the sky was a clear blue above. Bradley and Logan were playing a one-on-one game, and as soon as they saw me, Logan said, “Good! You can get the ball for us when it goes out of bounds. And you can make sure it doesn’t go down the hill, okay Aiden?”

  I nodded and crossed the concrete, plopping down on the edge of the low retaining wall to watch them. I was perfectly happy with this task. As much as I’d love to play basketball, I knew I wasn’t nearly nimble enough to be any good. Most likely, I’d trip over my own feet and cause everyone else to fall over me. Nope. Basketball wasn’t my thing.

  Logan dribbled past Bradley, shoving him aside and making him stumble. He sped toward the hoop, tossing the ball a little too hard. It slammed against the backboard, then bounced off the rim and headed straight for me.

  “Get it, Aiden!” Logan cried.

  I felt my eyes widen, and I stood, stretching my arms up as far above my head as I could. I guess I moved too slow because the ball bounced right over me and went flying down the hill onto the equestrian trail behind our house.

  Both Bradley and Logan threw their heads back and groaned.

  “You were supposed to stop it!” Logan pointed out.

  I glared at him. Well, at least I tried to glare at him. I wanted to tell him that I had been trying to stop it.

  When I continued to stand there, Bradley threw his hands up in the air. “Aiden!” he complained. “Go get the ball! It’s your fault it went down there.”

  I looked up at my older brother, wanting very much to punch him. I didn’t like it when he bossed me around. I hated it even more when he blamed things on me that I had no control over.

  Logan turned to Bradley and said, “Don’t be stupid. He won’t be able to find it. It went too far down the trail. I’ll just go get it.”

  Bradley made another whining sound, but I wasn’t paying attention. Sure, I didn’t like being bossed around or blamed for things, but neither of those was worse than people thinking I was helpless.

  Screwing up my face and mustering all the energy and concentration I could, I shouted, “No!” then, “Get ball.”

  Without waiting for my brothers to consider what I had said, I spun on my heel and crawled through the fence, almost tripping over the plants growing on the small slope that led down to the trail. I would show both of them I could do something as simple as find a lost basketball.

  Plucking dead leaves and tiny, broken twigs from my hair and clothes, I stumbled out onto the wide dirt path. The local horse owners used this trail a lot, so the sand was soft and deep in some places. And there were ‘road apples’ everywhere. That’s what Bradley and Logan called the horse poop. They thought it was so hilarious, and sometimes, they threatened to throw them at me when I didn’t do what they asked. Fortunately, I stayed inside most of the time. Having big brothers was such a pain.

  Sidestepping a nearby pile of road apples, I headed farther down the trail, following the large, basketball-shaped divots in the sand until I spotted a small groove that indicated which direction the ball had rolled. And my brothers thought I was an idiot. I bet they didn’t know how to track a basketball.

  I took my time locating the ball, mostly to get back at my brothers for being rude. It wasn’t hard, since it was so nice down in this canyon, what with the tall eucalyptus trees creating plenty of shade, their sickle-shaped leaves rustling in the breeze far above my head. On the left side of the trail, the hillside fell away about fifty feet down into the swamp below. Small shrubs and young trees dotted the slope and made it pretty much impossible for anyone to cross, unless they wanted to end up full of blackberry thorns and stinging nettle welts.

  Fortunately, I spotted the basketball only a few more yards down the path. It had rolled pretty far, almost halfway down to where the trail curved to the left to cross the shallowest part of the swamp. I was glad I didn’t have to go down that far. The tree branches curved overhead and made it dark and spooky, and it just didn’t feel right even from far away.

  I stepped onto the dead grass tangled along the side of the trail, zeroing in on the ball, its bright orange color standing out like a disregarded safety vest. The basketball had wedged itself between a tree stump and a pile of dead brush someone had piled up to make a fort. It was a few feet from the path, and I had to climb through the shrubs a little to reach it.

  Placing my foot on a large branch, I leaned forward, my tongue sticking out of the side of my mouth and my fingers stretching toward the ball. I heard the crack before I felt my weight give out underneath me. The branch, which had looked sturdy, was really rotten in the center. I pitched forward, the ball breaking loose as well, and the both of us crashed halfway down the hill. I landed in a small clump of overgrown shrubs beneath a willow tree, the ball stuck between me and the ground. I tried moving, but my ankle hurt, and something sharp dug into my shoulder. Taking a careful glance to the side, I realized the pain was caused by a blackberry branch that had come loose from the main plant several feet away.

  As I lay there, I reflected in silent misery on how I’d been so proud of myself for being smarter than my brothers. Now, I was hoping they’d come looking for me soon. I tried getting up, but my ankle twinged a little, and I rolled back onto my side.

  Just when I was about to give up and start screaming to get Bradley and Logan’s attention, I heard something rustling in the reeds somewhere in front of me. I rolled over again, trying not to make my ankle worse, and blinked out over the swamp. Most of the marsh was clogged up with reeds and cattails, with only a few pools of blackish water visible from what I could see. A small patch of the plants had been shoved aside and smashed flat, giving me a clear view of the shore on the other side.

  The opposite shore was littered with dead, brown eucalyptus leaves, the trees from which they’d fallen spread out just enough to create a meadow of sorts. A clump of poison oak, the leaves going red for the autumn, crawled up each of the trunks of the trees like scarlet lace. Beyond the meadow were more trees and shr
ubs growing thick and crowding the side of another slope.

  As I studied the view, that rustling sound from earlier returned, this time accompanied by a strange growling. Immediately, I became completely still, not daring to even breathe or blink. I knew that sound. Whatever was moving on the opposite shore was a ghoulie. Would it see me stuck under the tree? Would it try to come after me this time, now that I was helpless?

  Before I could think much more about it, the ghoulie pushed free of the reeds and scurried up onto the dry land, shaking itself like a wet dog. I didn’t see why it would. It’s not like it had any fur to keep dry. Instead, a scattering of coarse hairs, like those on a pig, stuck out from a hide that looked to be the same shade and consistency as dried tar. It had a long snout complete with bright white, pointed teeth that didn’t fit all the way into its mouth, and a tail as long and thin as one of the reeds growing in the mire.

  The ghoulie had pulled something out of the water and was now pinning it down with clawed feet and tearing at it with its teeth. I narrowed my eyes, but the only thing I noticed about the object was that it was red and brown. Some small animal, most likely.

  Just when I was certain the ghoulie would finish its meal and move on, another one came charging out of nowhere, slamming into the first with enough force to knock it off its feet. The first ghoulie tumbled into a patch of poison oak, the dead animal still clutched in its teeth as the other readied itself for another attack. The creatures were a good thirty yards or so away, and blocked somewhat by the water and the reeds, but I wanted to get out of there as soon as I could, just in case they smelled me or sensed me somehow. I jiggled my foot experimentally and was relieved to find the pain in my ankle wasn’t nearly as severe as it had been ten minutes ago. Maybe I hadn’t sprained it after all.

  Before I could roll over and start climbing back up the hill, something unexpected happened. As the two ghoulies circled one another in a game of tug-of-war with the dead thing, a long, thin object came darting through the air and lodged itself into the first creature. The monster screeched, the sound a combination of hard chalk grating against a blackboard and a rabbit screaming. I ground my teeth together as goose pimples popped up all over my skin. Another one of those long sticks came flying from the right, and I realized what they were: arrows. The second arrow struck the other ghoulie in the face, and as it added its own cry of pain, it turned its head in my direction. I felt my face pale and my stomach turn over. The arrow was sticking out of the monster’s sunken eye, the flesh smoking where the arrow shaft touched it. It staggered for a moment longer, then collapsed to the ground.