Compass of Dreams Read online

  Chapter One:

  BAD NEWS, A MEAN MAILMAN, & HIS NEW VAN

  Chapter Two:

  UNEMPLOYMENT, THROWING STONES, & TOTAL PANIC

  Chapter Three:

  VERTIGO, HIGH WALLS, & FALLS

  Chapter Four:

  FLOWERS, EMOSSIFICATION, & ADELE BABELE

  Chapter Five:

  FRAUNANKEN! MURZEN! VAZ!

  Chapter Six:

  JEALOUSY, SHOCK, & AWE

  Chapter Seven:

  BEACHES, DISTRACTIONS, & WORK

  Chapter Eight:

  A BAD DRIVER, A STRANGE MEETING, & MCBLACK

  Chapter Nine:

  A MAN, A BOY, & A FATHER

  Chapter Ten:

  A WEIRD MAN, MORE MYSTERIES, & MAGIC COOKIES

  Chapter Eleven:

  LATIN, INSTRUMENTS, & DREAMS

  Chapter Twelve:

  BOOKS, BROTHERS, & GREEN MEN

  Chapter Thirteen:

  SECRET DOORS, DEMONIC DOGS, & MAGICAL FLUTES

  Chapter Fourteen:

  THE MCBLACKS, MONTECRISTO, & SOMERLED

  Chapter Fifteen:

  A COMPASS, BIRD POOP, & GEMSTONE EYES

  Chapter Sixteen:

  THE WOODS, VOICES, & THE DEAD

  Chapter Seventeen:

  FISH BONES, A WEATHER VANE, & BARLEY GRAINS

  Chapter Eighteen:

  THE GREEN MAN, SILVER BULLETS, & BLACKJACK

  Chapter Nineteen:

  TORCHES, AN INTRUDER, & NIGHTMARES

  Chapter Twenty:

  ADELE, CURIOSITY, & AN ASKELL

  Chapter Twenty-One:

  DEAD EYES, A DEADLY CARD, & DEATH

  Chapter Twenty-Two:

  DARKNESS, STILL LIFE, & A SCRATCH

  Chapter Twenty-Three:

  TEARS, LAUGHTER, & DREAMING

  Chapter Twenty-Four:

  ONE BROTHER, TWO BIKES, & THREE ACES

  Chapter Twenty-Five:

  DREAMS, PROMISES, & ME

  After barely a month of work, the post office fired me. Even though Reverend Prospero didn’t use the word “fired,” and he assured me that I was good at my job, it didn’t change the fact that I was no longer the mailman in Applecross.

  “Come with me, boy,” Reverend Prospero said. He gestured as if politely inviting me inside, but it felt more like he was pushing me along. “Let’s go talk to Jules.”

  Then again, Reverend Prospero wasn’t completely aware of his own strength. At almost six feet, six inches tall, he was the kind of man you wouldn’t argue with. His wild eyes and loud voice didn’t encourage dissent, either.

  “Come on, Patches,” I told my dog. He immediately bounded after us.

  The person we were going to see, Jules, was the real mailman in Applecross — the one I’d been covering for. We delivered letters to all the farms on the mainland, and sometimes even on the islands. Often the addresses were wrong, which meant I’d have to bike all the way to the other side of the bay to deliver them.

  Except for the locals, the world didn’t seem to have the slightest idea where Applecross was. I can’t blame them, though. Applecross is a small village in the northern part of Scotland. There is just one road that leads to us, and on that road there’s a sign that reads: Watch out, danger ahead. Do not drive on this road if you aren’t familiar with it. No, it’s not a joke — that sign actually exists.

  But that summer, the real danger didn’t come from driving on our roads, though that could be fatal near the rocks of Small Peak. And it wasn’t even because of all nineteen sharp turns along the way, nor because of the rabbits crossing the road whenever they heard cars coming (no one knows why our rabbits seem to love engines, but they do). It’s not even because of the fog that can come so thick so quickly that it blocks your entire view of the road.

  So, what was the real danger, you ask?

  Jules the mailman.

  I’d taken over Jules’s mail route that summer because he twisted his ankle while riding his bicycle. He didn’t get a lot of sympathy for his injury because, well . . . he’s a cranky guy. And lazy. Case in point: in the four weeks I covered for him, I delivered more mail than he had in the previous six months.

  Upon hearing this fact, Jules was predictably angry. “What do you think you’re doing, boy?!” he cried. “You’re ruining my big plan!”

  “And what’s your big plan?” I asked.

  Jules didn’t answer my question. Instead, he got even crankier and swore that he’d make me pay for what I’d done (whatever that was). Then Jules limped out of the post office (he only limped when he was angry) and went to complain to Reverend Prospero, just like everyone else in Applecross did when they had a problem. And as usual, Reverend Prospero found a way to solve the problem — which was why the two of us were talking that day.

  “So what do you think?” asked the reverend. He pointed at a red van just outside the post office. It had the Royal Mail’s insignia on its side. “Modern technology has finally come to our village.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” I asked.

  The reverend continued speaking as if he hadn’t heard me. “The central office just sent the van to us,” he continued. “Isn’t it a beauty?”

  I laughed. “Who’s supposed to drive it?” I asked sarcastically. “Jules?”

  The reverend raised an eyebrow. “And why not?” he asked. “He’s the mailman, after all.”

  The red van looked like a cross between a toaster oven and a death trap. I shivered at the thought of that thing speeding down the roads in Applecross or Belanch Ba, the oxen road, with Jules at the wheel.

  “Jules can’t drive . . .” I mumbled.

  “Neither can you,” the reverend pointed out. Which wasn’t true at all. I was sure I could drive — it’s just that it was illegal since I was only fourteen years old. “Which, I’m afraid, means you’re out of a job, boy.”

  I grumbled and handed over the mailbag. “As you wish,” I said. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I paused. “Can I at least keep the bike?”

  The reverend didn’t even look at me, seemingly entranced by the sparkle of the shiny, red van.

  “I have to find a new job for you,” he said. “Let’s meet again tomorrow morning at my house, boy.”

  He never seemed to use my name. “My name’s Finley McPhee, you know,” I said. “With an ‘F.’”

  The reverend just grumbled and kept his eyes on the van.

  “Come on, Patches,” I mumbled. “We’re leaving.”

  Getting fired was kind of a bummer, I’ll admit it. But thankfully I had a pretty good backup plan for that afternoon . . .

  I spent the rest of the morning gathering rocks, then throwing them at a sign hanging from the high-voltage power lines. Patches ran to get the rock every time I threw one, but he didn’t bring them back. Patches played by his own rules.

  After a couple of hours, the sign finally detached from the lines and fell, splatting in the mud below. Even though it was summer and it hadn’t rained much, the mud still came up to my knees. Luckily, I’m Scottish and therefore immune to mud.

  I plodded over, dragging my feet through the muck. There was a lightning bolt on the sign. The words beneath it were: HIGH VOLTAGE — FATAL IF TOUCHED.

  Patches whimpered, meaning he wanted to see it too. So I went back to get him, held him above the mud, and slogged back toward the sign. I held him close to the sign so he could sniff it.

  “What do you think, Patches?” I asked. “Do you like it? Maybe we can put it at the entrance to Applecross. Or maybe write Jules’s name on it, or the license plate number of the post office’s new van.”
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  Patches tilted his head at me, which meant he agreed. “We have to do it this afternoon, then,” I said. Whatever new job Reverend Prospero had in mind for me would probably prevent me from doing it tomorrow.

  After failing nearly all my classes in school last year, my dad and the reverend agreed that I should spend the summer working. I guess they both hoped that I would absolutely hate it and end up begging to go back to school after summer break was over. Luckily, the Lily family had arrived and opened the Enchanted Emporium. Before then, Applecross was just a sleepy fishing town, and my dad and the reverend would have been right. But since the Lily family arrived, the town’s been turned upside-down.

  I heard my stomach rumble. “Guess it’s time for lunch,” I told Patches, and began to trudge my way out of the mud.

  The Greenlock Pub was the only place to eat within fifteen miles. Thankfully, the food there was great. Past Greenlock Pub was the McStay Inn. Their food was . . . not great. Past that was the Tourist Information Office, where Blind Jacky worked. He wasn’t friendly, although he loved to tell stories to visitors — like when a giant, silvery fish jumped into his boat and tried to eat his eyeballs. Tourists didn’t tend to linger long in the Tourist Information Office.

  There wasn’t much else to do in Applecross. There was a small square, a small church, a parsonage, one souvenir store owned by Mr. Everett (also known as The Professor), one school, Meb’s dress shop, and few other buildings. Then there were all the farms in the countryside and along the coastline. Oh, and the sheep. Sheep were everywhere in Applecross. And all they did was eat grass and complain about the weather.

  At least with Aiby Lily’s arrival, things actually started happening in Applecross. Oh, and she’s beautiful. A little bit taller than me, sure, but still really pretty.

  Patches whimpered. I saw a shadow appear near my bike. I looked up to see a tall, thin man with hair so blonde it almost looked white. He had an oval-shaped face, and his nose was long and big. He wore a fancy orange cape and a pair of aviator goggles. His hands were long and thin and they were holding an ornately carved cane.

  He was Locan Lily, Aiby’s father. And seeing him appear out of the blue like that was always a bad sign. The cane he held was called The Trip Stick and it was one of the many magical objects that the Lily family kept safe at their store.

  I quietly dropped the sign behind my back. “Good morning, Mr. Lily,” I said, wearing my most innocent smile.

  Locan Lily scared me a little. Maybe it was because he was very tall, had weird hair, or the fact that he just didn’t talk much. I always felt nervous around him, like I’d just walked through his living room in my muddy shoes.

  “Is Aiby with you?” he asked, anxious as always.

  “No, I haven’t seen her today,” I said. “Actually . . .”

  “Actually?” Mr. Lily repeated, narrowing his eyes.

  “I haven’t seen her in over a week,” I said.

  “And you don’t know where she is?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Sorry, Mr. Lily.”

  “Curses,” he said.

  He stared out into the distance.

  “Is there a problem?” I asked.

  “Yes. Adele Babele will be here in less than one hour and we’re missing a bookmark,” he said casually, as if I had any idea what he was talking about. “A Flower of Vertigo.”

  “I see,” I said and nodded. You see, it was never a good idea to look shocked or curious with the Lily family members. And you definitely didn’t want to ask questions. Both Aiby and her father were pretty eccentric. Then again, owners of a store that sold talking swords, charmed rings, magical beans, and stuff like that probably had to be a little weird.

  A light breeze blew by that made Locan’s white-blonde hair stick up. Annoyed, he tried to smooth it back into place, but didn’t have much luck.

  “Maybe I can help you?” I said and immediately wished I hadn’t.

  Locan shrugged. “Maybe you can,” he said. “Do you have your key with you?”

  I silently cursed my brother Doug for giving me a necklace for the key. He always said that girls loved boys who wore necklaces. My brother wasn’t too bright, but that didn’t stop girls from being obsessed with him and his rugby games, so I’d taken his advice.

  With a sigh, I lifted the necklace out from beneath my shirt. The breeze seemed to grow colder as I held it up.

  Mr. Lily looked around suspiciously. Patches started to paw at the dirt. More wind came and it started to bend the trees. The high-voltage cables squeaked.

  “We should probably be on our way,” Mr. Lily said, pulling me in close. He raised the Trip Stick in front of him. I grabbed hold. Patches sat on my feet.

  Mr. Lily pulled a small object out from a hidden pocket inside his cape. It looked like a weird little silk ladder. He held it out in front of him and the ladder started to grow bigger.

  “Let’s go get that flower!” he said.

  “I’m sorry, go where and get what?”

  As an answer, Mr. Lily folded the Silky Ladder around my waist and grabbed my wrist tightly.

  Mr. Lily yelled a strange word, then beat the Trip Stick on the ground. Our surroundings gave way to complete darkness. Then I realized we were falling.

  Mr. Lily was flipping head over heels in a circular motion as he fell through the darkness. “Not again!” he yelled.

  I screamed and Patches dug his teeth into my pants as the three of us fell together.

  The weirdest thing was that, while I was falling, I thought about my bike. I’d left it in the grass, near the power lines, without even locking it up. It might seem stupid to worry about a bike while you’re presumably falling to your death, but I couldn’t help myself.

  Then things got even weirder: when I closed my eyes, I could actually see what was happening back in Applecross! The wind had stopped blowing. A man appeared from behind the trees and he slowly walked toward my bike. He gathered the high voltage sign that I’d dropped when Locan had grabbed my wrist. The man absentmindedly slipped the sign into an inside pocket of this really odd, mirror-covered cloak he wore. Then he put on some headphones, turned up the volume, and left the way he’d come.

  BOING! My eyes shot open again as the Silky Staircase strained like a rubber band. I felt myself being pulled by the belt so hard that I could barely breathe. A moment later, I found myself hanging upside down. I watched as some spare change fell from my pockets. Patches was hanging from my shirt by his teeth with his tail wagging furiously in front of my nose. It was not a pleasant sight.

  I tried to reach out and grab something to get my balance back only to find I was swimming in the air with nothing to grasp. “What the heck is going on?!” I cried, trying my best not to vomit. Patches wiggled his tail even faster.

  “Don’t move, you two!” Mr. Lily yelled at us from a few feet above. (Or was he below me?)

  Unfortunately I couldn’t follow his advice. You see, I’m a little afraid of heights, so I began to flail like a madman. Somehow I found a handhold and I grabbed it. I pulled myself to what I thought was an upright position. Suddenly, the feeling of vertigo forced my eyes shut. Patches released my shirt and attached himself to my belt with his teeth and sat there, growling and barking at the same time.

  I realized we were hanging from a rock wall. It was so tall that it disappeared into the clouds far above us. When I looked down, I saw that I couldn’t even see the ground. I had a quick vision of a waterfall, then I heard some strange bird singing.

  I held on to the rock even tighter and looked up. Aiby’s father was hanging from the wall in a similar fashion about a hundred feet higher.

  “Where are we, Mr. Lily?” I yelled, hugging the rock wall as tightly as I could.

  Mr. Lily reached beneath his cape and produced a black notepad. The book was surprisingly large, but somehow he managed to flip through
the pages with one hand. “Well, if I’m not mistaken . . .”

  “Mr. Lily, I really don’t want to die like this!” I cried.

  “Oh, relax,” Mr. Lily said. “A little fresh air won’t hurt you. On the contrary, it’s quite good for you.”

  “Fresh air?!” I yelled. “I’m not worried about the air — I’m worried about falling to my death! And how can you call this fresh air? It’s freezing!”

  “It’s just the altitude,” Mr. Lily said, ignoring all but the least important part of my statement. “Slow your breathing or you’ll use up all your oxygen.”

  I couldn’t decide if I was more angry or scared. “Just tell me why we’re hundreds of miles above the ground!” I begged.

  “Because this is the only place where we can find a Flower of Vertigo,” Mr. Lily said as if nothing was strange about the scenario.

  “You’re insane!” I yelled.

  In the meantime Patches dug his nails into my jeans.

  Locan Lily read from his book: “The Imaginary Travelers limited edition guide tells us that we should follow the Mallory rope line. It’s supposed to be somewhere around — OUCH!”

  I saw the large book fall from Mr. Lily’s hands, zip past me, and then disappear below.

  “Did you grab it?” Mr. Lily asked me.

  “Are you seriously asking me if I grabbed a giant book that you dropped from a hundred feet above me?” I said. “Did you really just ask me that?!” I laughed at the idea that Mr. Lily thought it would be possible to let go of the rock and catch a falling book that size with one hand. “Of course I didn’t grab it!”

  “This is a problem,” Mr. Lily said.

  “Why?” I cried. “Why is this a problem?!”

  “When Aiby finds out that I lost it, she will be very upset,” he said.

  “Aiby will be angry you lost a book?!” I cried in disbelief. “We’re hanging from a ladder made of —”

  I looked up to examine the ladder and realized that the ladder was simply floating in midair. “IT’S HANGING FROM NOTHING!” I howled.

  Mr. Lily put on his aviator goggles. A sparkle appeared on the brass frame. “It’s a Silky Staircase,” he said in an annoyed tone. “It stands up on its own without being attached to anything. Also, if you pull it twice . . .”