Angor Reborn Read online

“Hang on, little guy,” Jim said softly.

  He knelt and gradually extricated the young wolf from the web of carelessly discarded garbage. As soon as he was free, the pup ran away.

  “Uh, you’re welcome?” said Jim in annoyance.

  The pup stopped in his tracks and looked back. Jim stayed crouched and slowly offered out his hand. The wolf’s big ears piqued in curiosity as he crept back and gave Jim a few tentative sniffs.

  “There you go,” said Jim in a sweet, singsong tone.

  Feeling more at ease, the small wolf sat on his haunches and looked up at the Trollhunter. He started petting the pup, scratching behind his ear and saying, “I’d be worried that your mama is sizing me up for dinner right about now, but I’m guessing you’re all alone out here. Me too.”

  The pup cocked his head at Jim and started barking, as if in answer.

  “Geez, listen to Sir Barks-a-Lot over here,” Jim joked.

  Another gust blew through the woods, and the trees creaked around them. Jim looked up at the sky, and saw moonlight filtering between the growing storm clouds. He stood up and said, “Well, later, Sir Barks.”

  Jim started heading to where he thought the main road was located. He’d only walked a few feet, when he heard another bark. Turning, Jim saw the pup behind him, tail wagging.

  “Uh, you probably don’t wanna go where I’m headed,” Jim said. “I don’t know what their feeling is about dogs, but Trolls sure think cats are delicious.”

  The Trollhunter resumed on his way, and Sir Barks followed. Jim tried to shoo him away, saying “Go on, skedaddle! Run free! Live la vida lupa!”

  The wolf didn’t budge an inch.

  “Seriously, Sir Barks, you’re better off keeping your distance,” Jim pleaded, pulling the Amulet from his pocket. “Ever since this thing found me, my life’s gotten pretty unpleasant—”

  High above them, the thunderclouds parted, revealing a low, full moon—a Hunter’s Moon. Jim’s body suddenly seized with agony. It felt like his every nerve ending was on fire. He fell over, dropping the Amulet and startling Sir Barks. The wolf pup ran back to the trees. Jim was grateful, but not for the intense pain shooting through his muscles and bones that made his jaws clench, his eyes water.

  Through his tears, Jim thought he saw something approach from the woods. It wasn’t Sir Barks. It was a large, lumbering figure that soon became two. Jim couldn’t tell if the double vision was due to his bleary eyes or if one body had been walking behind another. He fumbled for the Amulet, but his hands couldn’t coordinate, wouldn’t respond.

  It was almost as if the Trollhunter’s body wasn’t his own anymore.

  CHAPTER 2

  A FISTFUL OF BEARD

  “What—have—you—done?” asked Doctor Barbara Lake through gritted teeth. “I did not just escape that Dark Trollmarket only to be separated from my son all over again!”

  “Well, technically, the boy did it to himself,” Merlin began.

  Barbara wasn’t having any of it. She shoved the wizard against her bathroom wall with her forearm against his windpipe. He wheezed and said, “Perhaps I did play some small part. . . .”

  She looked away from the bearded wizard in disgust and over to the tub. Inside, Barbara saw bathwater and the remnants of Merlin’s elixir . . . but no Jim. Behind her, Toby Domzalski and Claire Nuñez stood by the bathroom’s splintered doorjamb, trying to process what had happened to their best friend.

  “I don’t get it,” said Toby. “One minute, we’re out in the hallway, begging for Jim to let us into the bathroom. And not in a Taco Tuesday–related way!”

  “We know he didn’t use the door—we were too busy breaking it down,” added Claire, her face almost as white as the streak in her hair. “And the window’s locked from the inside. There’s no other way Jim could’ve slipped past us.”

  “Not unless you count this fancy chamber pot,” said Merlin, indicating the toilet.

  Barbara pressed harder against the wizard and said, “Are you going to give us a straight answer? Or do I have to start breaking bones?”

  “Trust me, Merlin, she knows how to do it,” said Walter Strickler.

  Jim’s dapper former teacher had appeared behind Toby and Claire, consulting The Book of Ga-Huel. He flipped through the accursed pages and said, “Blast! This Gumm-Gumm tome is a record of the past, present, and future. Yet there’s no mention in any of its chapters as to what might’ve happened to our young Atlas.”

  Barbara asked, “Claire, can’t you use that shade stick to—?”

  “It’s called the Skathe-Hrün,” Merlin corrected hoarsely, recognizing in Claire’s hands the very same weapon Angor Rot once wielded against him.

  Claire ignored the wizard and said, “Already on it, Dr. Lake.”

  She extended her Shadow Staff and concentrated on the space between its tines. A black hole opened, and Claire searched through it—not with her eyes, but with her heart. Toby and the others took a step back as the portal dilated, taking up half of the crowded bathroom. Claire’s eyebrows knitted, but the vortex sputtered, then shrank into nothingness.

  “I . . . I don’t understand,” said Claire. “Jim’s always been my strongest emotional anchor. I know him so well, I could track him across the planet.”

  Barbara’s eyes grew as she loosened her chokehold on Merlin. Strickler said, “Is it possible he ventured into the Darklands once more?”

  “No way,” Toby answered adamantly. “Jimbo promised he’d never go there again without us.”

  Merlin cleared his throat and said, “Rest assured, the Trollhunter remains on the surface world. Though his exact location escapes me, at the moment. . . .”

  “But how could you be so reckless?” Strickler asked. “How could you expose him to something this unpredictable?”

  “That’s a bit like the cauldron calling the kettle black, isn’t it, Changeling?” Merlin said.

  Strickler’s eyes flared yellow before the shape-shifter looked away in shame.

  “Besides, unpredictability is the very essence of magic,” the wizard continued while adjusting his emerald skullcap. “Worry not. He’ll be fine.”

  Barbara laughed flatly and said, “Merlin, you may have had many champions, but you’ve clearly never been a parent. Worry comes with the job, especially when you have a kid as amazing I do. It’s my responsibility to protect Jim. Not the other way around. But you’ve lost him, so now you’re going to help find him.”

  Before Merlin could protest, Barbara grabbed a fistful of beard and dragged him out of the bathroom.

  “OW!” was all the wizard could manage to say as they went downstairs.

  Shrugging, Strickler turned to Claire and Toby and said, “Nomura has yet to report in. She may be under the misapprehension that Barbara and I are still Gunmar’s prisoners. I’ll make contact and have her search for Jim instead.”

  “While I spend some time in the Shadow Realm,” said Claire, opening a new portal with her staff. “As much as that place makes my skin crawl, being cut off from outside distractions might ‘signal boost’ my connection to Jim—like a really freaky sensory deprivation tank.”

  Claire disappeared into the black hole, leaving Toby alone in the bathroom. He opened the window and said, “I guess that makes me in charge of aerial surveillance!”

  Toby got a running start and jumped out the window. Normally, this would be a problem for anyone escaping a second-story bathroom. But Toby’s Warhammer activated at once, halting him in midair. He floated higher and higher above Jim’s house, scanning their neighborhood like a human drone. Toby saw his own home across the cul-de-sac, Claire’s place two blocks away, and Main Street just beyond that. Thunder rumbled overhead, and Toby became aware of the storm gathering on the horizon. He gulped nervously and said, “Aw, Jimbo. I sure wish Blinky and AAARRRGGHH!!! were here. They’d know what to do.”

  • • •

  “I have absolutely no idea what to do!” shouted Blinky. “Other than—RUN!”

&nb
sp; The six-eyed Troll ducked the Parlok Spear that was aimed for his head and broke into a sprint across the Quagawump Swamps. AAARRRGGHH!!! galloped on all fours after him, swatting away another incoming volley of spears and grumbling, “Good plan.”

  “After them!” commanded Queen Usurna, her feathered crown trembling. “The Eternal Night must proceed quickly, or Gunmar will add all our skulls to his throne!”

  Krubera soldiers chased after the fleeing Trolls. Blinky looked back at them and said, “And here I thought the worst thing about this place was its music!”

  “Boom, boom, shake the room, say whaaaaa?” sang AAARRRGGHH!!!

  The tune made Blinky think of happier times and he smiled, despite the spears whizzing past him and AAARRRGGHH!!! Had it only been a few months ago when they first escorted Claire, Tobias, and Master Jim to the Quagawump Swamps? Their team had been in search of the second Triumbric Stone needed to defeat Gunmar, and the Wumpas were initially hostile to all foreigners. But in deposing their false king and restoring order, Team Trollhunters had believed they’d made friends for life with the grateful Wumpas. It was the very reason for Blinky and AAARRRGGHH!!!’s latest visit here. They believed the Wumpa Queen would be more than willing to pledge her forces to the Trollhunters’ cause—to band together to join an army large enough to thwart the Eternal Night.

  “Heads up,” warned AAARRRGGHH!!!

  He snatched another spear out of the air before it harpooned Blinky, and hurled it back to its sender. The weapon skewered the Gumm-Gumm who had first thrown it, turning him into a lifeless stone statue.

  “You have my thanks, as ever, Aarghaumont,” Blinky said in gratitude. “Just as I would have thanked the Wumpas not to ambush us!”

  For no sooner had Blinky and AAARRRGGHH!!! returned with their plea for aid, than the Wumpa Queen revealed they’d been beaten to the punch—by Usurna and her dedicated squad of murderous Kruberas. The betrayal irked Blinky to no end, but he realized there were more pressing concerns at the moment.

  “Look, old friend!” said Blinky, pointing his four arms straight ahead. “A fire bog!”

  AAARRRGGHH!!! nodded and hefted Blinky onto his mossy back. The musclebound Troll bent his legs and jumped with all his might, carrying both of them over a field of smoking peat. They landed clear on the other side, and the pursuing Kruberas had no choice but to race after them.

  As soon as they set foot on the bog, jets of flame shot out from the ground. The intense heat burned the Kruberas, keeping them at bay . . . for now. Blinky and AAARRRGGHH!!! took off again. After putting some distance between themselves and Usurna’s scorched soldiers, they rested in a cave far off the beaten path.

  “Great Gizmodius, what a week!” Blinky exclaimed, catching his breath. “As our human friends might say, I am royally cheesed off!”

  “Royal cheese sauce?” asked AAARRRGGHH!!! uncertainly.

  “No, no, ‘royally cheesed off,’ ” Blinky corrected. “It’s a surface world expression that means . . . oh, it doesn’t matter what it means! We’ve landed in a most hopeless predicament this time—and in our line of work, that’s really saying something!”

  “Not all bad,” said AAARRRGGHH!!!

  Blinky followed his teammate’s gaze and saw a series of deep pools glowing within their shelter. Together, they peered into one of the pools and saw their own burdened reflections on the surface . . . until its waters rippled, seemingly disturbed from within.

  “How odd,” Blinky said. “It’s almost as if the pool responded to our emotions.”

  “Troubled waters,” AAARRRGGHH!!! grunted in understanding.

  “Just so, old friend,” Blinky agreed with mounting worry. “Though our fate appears most dire at present, I somehow feel an even greater concern for our allies. Especially Master Jim . . .”

  CHAPTER 3

  STAR-CROSSED SHOVERS

  Before he opened his eyes, Jim heard the crackle of flames. He smelled at least two different kinds of wood burning—oak and some kind of pine. Jim didn’t know how his nose could distinguish such subtle scents in the smoke. It never could before.

  He sat up and looked around the lakeshore. A bonfire flickered in front of him. It warmed Jim’s body, which no longer throbbed with pain. All he felt now was soreness in his muscles . . . and tightness in his clothes. Jim figured the combination of the lake water and heat must’ve shrunk his sweater and jeans.

  Sir Barks-a-Lot sprang from the nearby woods, followed by two Trolls. The wolf pup jumped on Jim, who recognized the Trolls’ silhouettes as the ones he saw before passing out cold. They dumped the logs in their arms onto the bonfire. In the rising glow, Jim saw that one of them was a Garden Troll, flowers blooming in a delicate crown from her head branches. The other clearly hailed from the River Tribe, given the large, squat boulder atop his skull. Once they noticed Jim was awake, the Garden Troll clapped her hands together excitedly and said, “Look, Ronagog! The human isn’t dead after all! Can we keep him? Can we?”

  “I dunno, Junipra,” answered Ronagog the River Troll. “You think he’s cave-broken? ’Cause I’m not cleaning up any of his ‘accidents’!”

  “Excuse me,” said Jim as he stood on unsteady legs. “I’m not going to be your pet.”

  “Oh. So, you’re not cave-broken,” said Junipra, looking crestfallen. “I guess that’s why his clothes were drenched when we found him.”

  “No!” yelled Jim. “I mean, yes, I’m ‘cave-broken’! I haven’t wet myself since I was in preschool. Well, maybe a little the first time I laid eyes on Bular. . . .”

  Ronagog gasped and said, “You’ve seen the son of Gunmar? And lived to tell of it?”

  “Well, yeah, but—” Jim began before Junipra shoved Ronagog.

  “Aw, are you scared?” teased the Garden Troll.

  “So what if I am?” asked Ronagog, pushing back.

  “Stop!” yelled the Trollhunter. “There’s no need to fight like this!”

  Junipra and Ronagog stopped tussling and gave Jim a confused look.

  “ ‘Fight’?” Ronagog repeated. “This isn’t a fight, fleshling. It’s our courtship dance!”

  “Look how cute the incontinent human is when he’s confused!” said Junipra. “This is how we show affection in Troll culture. We’re in love!”

  “Oh, I know what you’re thinking,” Ronagog said to Jim.

  “I seriously doubt that,” Jim muttered with a shake of his head.

  “She’s a ‘grubby Garden Troll,’ and I’m a ‘rotten River Troll’!” Ronagog went on, winking at Junipra in some a private joke. “We’ve heard it all before. How we’re crazy. How us being together is forbidden by our feuding tribes.”

  “Yeah, about that feud,” said Jim. “It’s ancient history. My friends and I just—”

  “Exactly—ancient history!” Junipra cut in. “That’s what we’ve been saying! But our elders are sooooo old-fashioned. And Ronagog and I . . . we can’t fight what’s in our hearts. Do you have any idea what that feels like?”

  “I . . . I think I do,” Jim said softly.

  The Trollhunter looked up at the stars glittering between the clouds and wondered if Claire was doing the same. The brightest points in the constellations reminded Jim of her eyes, of the streak in her hair, of her perfect white teeth whenever she smiled at him. He flashed back to the first time he saw Claire, when their moms chatted at some city fundraiser in Barbara’s hospital. Jim then winced, recalling his pathetic attempts months later to “unleash his Español” and talk to her. But then he allowed himself to smile, remembering the first time she made him guacamole, the first time they slow-danced at the lookout point, the first time Claire called Jim her “boyfriend.”

  “ ‘O, swear not by the moon, th’ inconstant moon,’ ” Jim whispered to himself. “ ‘That monthly changes in her circle orb, lest that thy love prove likewise variable.’ ”

  “That’s beautiful,” said Junipra, overhearing. “Is it from the Venerable Bedehilde?”

 
“No, the venerable Shakespeare,” said Jim.

  The line came back to him, one of many Jim and Claire had rehearsed for Ms. Janeth’s high school production of Romeo and Juliet. At the time, he’d worried he’d never be able to remember all that dialogue, but Claire always found a way to make Jim believe in himself. Jim sighed and wished he could hold Claire’s hand in his . . . his surprisingly hairy hand.

  “Whoa! Where’d that come from?!” Jim blurted out.

  Sir Barks and the two shoving Trolls looked at him. He inspected the wiry hairs sprouting from his knuckles, so black they were almost blue. Those weren’t there yesterday. Neither were Jim’s long fingernails, which looked as though they hadn’t been clipped in months.

  Have I been so busy Trollhunting, I forgot about basic grooming? Jim thought. Maybe my dad was a hairy guy too. I barely remember him, but I’m pretty sure he wasn’t a yeti!

  Sir Barks started growling, and Jim saw the hackles on the puppy’s back rise. Ronagog and Junipra stopped wrestling and turned to the woods, where several Garden Trolls emerged.

  “Mother! Father!” Junipra said to her tribe’s oldest members. “What brings you here?”

  “Preventing you from making a terrible mistake!” answered Junipra’s father. “Remove your hands from my daughter, river riffraff—lest I remove them from your wrists!”

  “How dare you speak to our son that way, garden garbage!” shouted someone from behind.

  Jim saw a handful of River Trolls wade out of the lake. Ronagog let go of Junipra and said to them, “Please, parents, stay out of this! I’m old enough to make my own decisions!”

  “Decisions that bring shame to our entire tribe!” declared Ronagog’s mother. “Or have you forgotten our blood feud with Garden Trolls since time immemorial?”

  Jim jumped between both camps and yelled, “WAIT! Everyone relax for a second. My friends and I ended that feud a few days ago. But I’m guessing you guys didn’t get the memo. . . .”

  “I got your memo right here!” hollered a River Troll before he punched a Garden Troll.