Alex stuffed several T-shirts into his large brown suitcase and grabbed a pair of pants slung over a bent wire hanger. Ness, his little sister, twisted a strand of her reddish brown hair around and around her pinkie finger and watched the wire hanger swing back and forth. How forlorn it looked, swerving back and forth in the sparse closet.

"This isn't right and you know it," she said softly. Alex turned, his dark eyes still haunted from the memory of the flitting black shadows pecking at his skin, his eyes, prying open his mouth. Long white scratches ran across his bare skin from where the strange dark creatures had ripped at him. "I can't risk you getting hurt, my dear little sister," Alex said, the angry fire dying in his eyes. Ness tried to stop the quivering in her chin as she let his strong arms encircle her and pull her into a tender embrace. Ness was brave; she could stand against this new devilish opposition that had overtaken Dale like a plague. The very essence of Evil lurked in the shadows of the house, within every alleyway when she turned her face to look out the window. It was so strong...perhaps it was indeed a time for falling back, getting more support. The horrible sudden attack had drained Alex and Ness both of energy and optimism, and it was time they had a break. They needed to sit back and look at the situation rationally.

Ness gave a shuddery sigh and wiped her tears away from her freckled cheek. She got up and walked into her room. Alex had already phoned his parents to make sure they agreed to their going to their grandparents' house by the lake for a few days. He didn't tell them about the living shadows; it was something he couldn't explain, somehow. If his parents could have seen the look in his eyes, they would not have let him remain silent about what was bothering him, but thankfully both his mother and father were out of town.

Half an hour later, the two siblings stood outside in the biting cold wintry air, scarves wrapped around their necks, the fringe trailing out behind them. They stood waiting for the tiny shuttle bus that would take them to their grandparents'. Ness had hastily penned a note to Lucy, explaining their situation and why they wouldn't be there when she and Joy came back from the store. Alex slipped one arm around his little sister and whispered in her ear.

"It is going to be alright, my sister," he said. Ness looked into her brother's face and saw, like she had so many times before, the makings of a knight. He even slipped into their eloquent speech when he was serious about what he was saying.

Ness felt urged to burst into relieved tears. Her brother was strong. They would be fine.

All of the sudden Alex let go of her and drew his heavy medieval sword, always at his side, and faced the tall gray-branched oak growing in the middle of the road. Ness was startled to see a tall dark figure leaning against the tree, looking at them.

"What do you want, R.K.?" Alex asked. He would have sheathed his sword, but for a sudden creeping sensation of darkness that resonated from the man's presence and seeped through his wary soul like honey slipping into a hot cup of tea. Ness clenched her jaw as the villain came nearer, his long black cloak brushing against the cold cement road. A car whizzed by, narrowly missing him, but he did not flinch and the car did not swerve because the driver was not able to see him.

"I want your help," R.K. said, and his teeth gleamed as he smiled. Behind a tree, like a grey shadow, Foulmarke rubbed his hands together as he watched the black cloaked figure and laughed cruelly. "You are now under our power..." he muttered, his stinking breath dancing away on the wind. He turned on his heel and slunk into the alleys of Dale, his putrid essence fading.

Liz walked along the cold asphalt, kicking tiny pebbles out of her way. She grinned as she remembered Pickle, a wild character of hers, dancing on the coffee table at her house. She would have stayed to dance with him to eat cookies...but for some reason, she just wanted to walk. The young girl skipped along the roadside, humming to herself. Perhaps she would go visit her friend, Leah. Or perhaps Jo, Leah's sister. They both lived close by. Liz looked up at the bare stark tree branches above her and thought something poetic. She hated the fact that she hadn't brought along any paper to write down whatever it was she had thought, and muttered about her characters to console herself.

A car passed her and she nearly fell over from the chilling spray of slush that threw itself at her red wool skirt. She was about to thumb her nose at the driver but stopped when she saw a tiny shadow creeping in the gutter. When she bent down to observe it, Liz saw that it was a tiny turtle, no bigger than her outstretched palm. She gave a small cry and carefully picked it up. It disappeared into its shell and she tucked it under her arm to keep it warm. "You're coming with me," Liz said, all thoughts of visiting or poetic walks forgotten, and she trotted quickly back to her house, blissfully ignorant as to what she found find when she got there.

Sarah gave a sharp cry as Mariella, her blue eyes glinting with a strange light, leapt out and waved a short metal sword over her head. Gabrielle was right behind her, coming out from the shadows behind Sarah's bookcase. They both moved with jerky motions and their breath came fast and raspy. Laura drew back in shock and grasped for her sword, lying on the floor in its sheath. Laura's sword was named Comfort, given to her y her God-character Adonai several months ago during a difficult time in her life. She kept it always near her, for indeed it was a comfort. Ian gave a snort and bolted up. He took one look at the two wild girls and said "That's it, I'm sure of it now. Girls are WEIRD."

Cherise put a protective arm around Sarah's shoulders as Mari pointed an accusing finger at the girls. "Surrender to your betters or face the consequences!" she snarled, in a voice much unlike her own.

"Mariella, what has happened?" Laura cried. Her face was distraught and her fingers trembled as she held Comfort aloft. "Where is the sweet Empress we all know and love?"

"Sweet?" Mari thundered. Gabrielle gave a bitter laugh as her companion continued. "I have no idea of what you speak, this Empress. I tell you, Goodness is not going to win this battle."

Sarah leapt up and faced the two girls. "Stop this nonsense, now!" she demanded. Gabrielle only laughed again and suddenly lunged for Ian. The young boy shouted in surprise as Gabrielle shoved him up against the wall and drew a small switchblade from her coat pocket. "Say you will leave White's characters alone and the boy lives," she growled. Laura gasped and stared at her brother, wriggling helplessly. "Stupid girl, get your hands off me!" he yelled, but Gabrielle only pressed the switchblade closer to his throat until he could not move for fear of cutting himself.

"We have no idea what you're talking about, leave Ian alone!" Cherise said. Her voice was frightened but she stood tall and faced the two girls. "Professor White wrote to the Inklings and asked for our help!"

"Mr. White is a poor fool," Mariella said with a toss of her brown hair. "He wants you to get his characters under control so he can write good things. But we don't want that, do we Gabrielle?" Switchblade pressed firmly against Ian's throat, Laura's furious silver-blue eyes boring holes into her, the girl nodded.

"Writing can be a tool used by darkness. Come to the darkness, Inklings, the pay is so much better. You will be treated like something instead of always having to be under the authority of Goodness and thrown around at every whim, toys for the haughty light to play with." Mariella's voice was harsh and sharp and Sarah could only stand and stare at her. What had twisted her mind so dramatically? Write for darkness?

The door crashed open and Syd, followed closely by Lucy who was wielding a bow and a quiver full of arrows, and Joy with her long blue cape flung hastily about her shoulders. Sarah gasped in relief. "Mari and Gabby are going mad!" she cried out. Syd's eyes glittered and she moved to stand in front of Laura, protecting her.

"What we speak if far from the babbling of a mad person!" Gabrielle shouted and Ian winced. He hated being pressed up so rudely against the cold wall of Sarah's bedroom, especially by a girl. "We were given the glorious chance to see what it would be like to serve the Renegade side; we have been wasting time so long on the side of the Peacekeepers, and look where it got us. Look at yourselves! Sniveling, stupid cowards whose pathetic attempts at wowing the world with your 'amazing' writing skills flop and die!"

Laura suddenly lunged forward. "That's enough!" she yelled. She pushed Gabrielle away from her little brother and stood between them. "What you speak is treachery! This is not who you were meant to be, this is not the way Inklings were created to be! Please, Gabrielle and Mariella, come back to the light!"

Mari threw back her head and gave a wild shout. "NEVER!" Almost before the shout had faded away, Lucy and Joy raced up and shoved Mari to the ground, pinning her arms to the carpet. Syd jumped at Gabrielle and smacked her upside the head. "Get a grip!" she shouted frantically.

"Far be it from the Inklings to write for darkness and Evil!" Laura's voice was sharp and commanding, and Gabrielle blinked. "What is this that has poisoned your minds, that you should think such a dreadful thing? The Inklings were created by Sybil to write for God and for Goodness because there is such a lack of God-honoring writing out in the modern world." Her bright eyes flashed with passion. Syd, who was sitting on Gabrielle, slowly got off as she saw the wild look in the girl's eyes fade into a mournful kind of sorrow. Gabby arose and shook her head as if to clear it.

"What is going on...where are the flying monkeys?" she declared.

Laura wrapped her arms around Ian. "To write for Evil is to die," she said. Sarah and Cherise nodded in agreement. Laura carefully sheathed Comfort again with a nervous smile. At that moment, Beth, Cherith and Sam nearly broke the door down and stormed into the room.

"What is going on?" Cherith shouted. Her glance darted from Gabby, who had begun sobbing, to Mariella, who stood with heaving chest in the center of Sarah's room. Beth slowly walked over and put her arms around Gabby. "It's alright, it's going to be fine..." she muttered soothingly.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." Gabby was sobbing again and again. Syd bent down and handed her a Kleenex. Cherith walked to Sarah and hugged her.

"You are all fools!" Mariella's voice came sudden and surprising. "You have no idea how hard the days are going to become, because you would not write for us!"

"Us?" Lucy said, arrow nocked to her bow, green eyes flashing. Syd clenched her strong hands into fists and set her jaw. She could sense the darkness as if it was something tangible, and though it frightened her, she was brave and would not show her fluttered nerves.

Laura gripped Comfort's hilt. "Bring it on," she said, her eyes flashing. Ian, still shaking, for once didn't mind being held onto.

Mariella ran out the door into the cold late afternoon with a mad cackle. "You can be sure that we will!" she yelled.

For a few moments, the girls and Ian all looked at each other, too shocked and relieved to say or do anything. It was Sam who spoke first, and her voice was serious.

"I think the time has come that we should all go to Mr. White's house," she said. Joy nodded her approval and Syd thoughtfully handed around more chocolate from her blue book bag.

The other girls agreed that it was the right thing to do; events were quickly spiraling out of control and the Inklings would all need to band together and fight against it. Donning coats and cloaks, the Inklings set out on foot through the sharp icy winds in the direction of White's manor. Only then did Sam remember the apple pancake in the oven.

"Where is Pip?" Sybil's question interrupted the laughter of the Inklings as they stepped into the brightly lit foyer.

"Pip?" repeated Mr. White, surprised. "I thought I saw her last night when I was locking the house up."

"Where was she?" Meggy's voice betrayed her anxiety. White shrugged.

"Just walking around. Mr. Big was with her, so I don't think there is anything to worry about."

"But she's been gone for a long while," Jules said slowly as he pulled his shirt on. He was still shivering slightly. "I think we ought to look around." He could not help but notice a darkness, like a too-strong perfume, permeating the spirit of the other Inklings; something was wrong, something was going to happen. Hating the feeling, Jules turned on his heel to follow the others through the hallway back into White's sprawling mansion.

"Just a minute," said Mr. White just as everyone was heading up the stairs. The Inklings turned back. Mr. White had opened the front door and was pointing to the sky.

"Look, Inklings, look!" he said excitedly, "This is something you won't want to miss!"

The writers rushed back to the door and looked into the sky, streaked with reddish tints . At first they could see nothing, but after scanning the horizon Rose pointed and shouted. "Goodness! What is it?"

Everyone looked. A small black speck was flying low over the hilltops in their direction. As it came closer, the details became clearer. It was obviously a bird of some sort, and a very big bird at that. A hawkish screech vibrated through the air, and shuddered through the house. The glass walls threatened to shatter and the Inklings stepped further outside. Rose repeated her question. "What is it?"

"A gryphon," answered White, grinning, not taking his gaze off of the flying creature. "MY gryphon. He is one of my finest characters."

The gryphon had now grown from a speck till it soared right over their heads, making the hair fly into their mouths and their eyes to water with the rush of wind. Jules was immediately transfixed by this fabled creature, who was both beautiful and terrible at the same time. A new meaning of freedom was opened to his mind, like a gust of fresh, cold wind that rushes into a dark stagnant room when the window is thrown open. To fly; to be free of the troubles of below that wingless creatures must surrender to helplessly. He could only stand and stare in awe at the wonderful beast.

"Oh!"

Jo's exclamation shook Jules back to his senses. The gryphon wheeled about sharply, revealing the figures of two girls lying prone on it's back. It laid the long muscular wings to it's side and kneeled, snapping it's wings open like a parachute right before touching the ground. The girls rolled off of the gryphon onto the ground under an old oak tree and lay there, breathing hard. One of them was crying. It was Justyne.

Jo said "Oh!" again, and this time her voice was filled with horror. Everyone rushed over to the girls. The other girl was Leah, and the Inklings were shocked to find her shoulder flowing blood. It had spattered like so many crimson flowers onto her skirt, and Leah's breath came raspy and fast. Mr. White was talking to the gryphon, his voice harsh and strained.

"What happened, Hruntu?" he asked.

"A renegade bullet, I suspect," Hruntu the gryphon answered. His voice was strong and light at the same time, but it, too, was shrouded with worry. "Where is Sylvanus? Only he can cure such wounds."

"I do not know," said White, shaking his head. "He disappeared a few days ago."
Sybil happened to look up and bit her lip at the shadow that had crossed White's face; his fists clenched and unclenched, and his chest heaved. What could he be thinking behind those piercing eyes that were fixed upon the young girl lying wounded before him.
"Will someone help?" Jules almost shouted. He suddenly had an intense urge to put an arm around his little brother Mark, who was trying to act as if he saw blood on a young girl every day. Leah gave a hacking cough and Jo jumped at the sound.

Behind him the girls were comforting Justyne and making a poor attempt at bandaging Leah's shoulder. There was a soft cry from the house, and the dryad and naiad that the girls had seen earlier that morning ran out from the house to them. The Inklings made room as the two faeries knelt beside Leah. Tearing the torn cloth away, they held their hands over the wound. The dryad started singing softly in what Christina thought was a form of Gaelic. The faeries began to move their hands in complicated winding motions, sometimes linking their fingers, sometimes passing their hands swiftly over the wound and then back into the strange dance-like movements. As they moved their hands, skin began to slowly grow over the wound until it closed. Leah's breath came gentler and she gave a small smile. The strange dance and music stopped when the wound was completely closed over. Leah gave a contented sigh and leaned her head against Justyne, who began sobbing with relief.

"The bullet is still there," said the naiad to White. "She is in no more pain, but we need Sylvanus to extract the bullet and ensure that the wound does not become poisoned." Her beautiful face fell into a graceful sorrow. "You know how a Renegade weapon can be..."

"Excuse me." Everyone looked up to where the sudden voice was coming from. Nevermore the raven was perched on a branch just above Mark's head. "I think I'm well enough to go and find the Satyr." He ruffled the wing bound up in the white cloth and his black eyes were beady.

White looked doubtful. "Are you sure?" he asked.

Nevermore fluffed his feathers so he looked twice as big as he really was. "I am sure."

White did not hesitate longer but nodded, gently untying the cloth from the raven's wing. Nevermore moved it experimentally and gave a curt nod. "Go ahead, then," he said, "and Godspeed."

Nevermore cocked his head to one side. "What did you say?"

White looked puzzled, and then his face twisted in something like fear. "You must make haste!" he said loudly, throwing his arms up. Christina looked at him with one eyebrow raised.

Nevermore chuckled. "Godspeed," he repeated, "GODspeed. That is exactly what we must hold onto, Tobias." He flapped his wings and shot up into the air like a black arrow.

White turned on his heel and strode into the house, his face carrying upon it both anger and confusion, as if perhaps his own words troubled him. The dryad and naiad both carried Leah carefully and went in the house, followed by the girls and Mark. They began singing in their own language and the shadows danced with their lithe figures walking along the hall, into the depths of White's house. Jules and Hruntu were left outside, watching the first red streaks of the sunset smear across the sky. Jules was reminded of the blood on Leah's body and felt a chill creep up his spine. Hruntu was looking after the direction Nevermore had taken.

"I hope he will make it, but somehow I doubt it," said the gryphon, half to himself.

"Why?" asked Jules.

"Look west toward Dale." The creature cocked his feathered head.

Jules looked west, and his hand went instinctively to his side where his sword should have been; he realized with a sinking feeling that he'd left it lying in the doorway of his room in White's mansion. A black seething cloud hung in the sky directly above Dale, looking to Jules like a horde of locusts. A part of the cloud branched out from the rest and formed something that looked uncannily like a great sneering skull. It must have just appeared, for such a thing had not blighted the winter twilight sky beforehand.

"What is it?" he asked, surprised that his voice was so hoarse.

"White called it Zalangoth," said Hruntu. And then more softly added, "the Living Shadow."

Looking back at the Living Shadow, Jules wondered with a sickening feeling that once the sun had set, he might never see it again.
Mark came trotting out of White's house. "We gotta find Pip, Jules, 'cause Mr. White wants to talk to all of us about something." Mark's face suddenly got confused. "He said it was of the utmost importance that we all understand...what we're going to face? And then he shut himself up in one of his rooms."

"That is odd..." Hruntu muttered to himself. The gryphon slowly turned and melted into the blackening woods, feathers ruffling in a fresh wind that whispered through the gray bare branches. Jules shrugged off the strange essence of life and shadows that drifted on the winds; he wondered how White was able to live among so much...brilliance. Everything seemed sharper, starker and dangerously real on the grounds and inside the mansion. Everything was amplified, enlarged, wilder. Even time did not have the same feeling of passing that it did in the streets of Dale.

"I'll find Pip," Jules said. He turned to go, but then stopped and asked his little brother, "do you see that black cloud...there..." Jules had been pointing to the morbid bulge of darkness in the sky, but let his hand fall to his side. The cloud and the ghostly form of the grinning skull had vanished. The sunset flamed across the sky unblemished. Mark looked up at him. "You okay?" he asked. Jules passed a hand over his eyes as a dull, thudding pain filled the space behind his eyes. "I...I think so...you go inside, it's cold out here." Mark raised one eyebrow but went inside.

Shivering in the cold wind, Jules walked around the side of the mansion, through the shadows of the forest and underneath a jutting balcony. He tried to calm his rippling nerves, but though he tried whistling and ramming his cold hands into his pocket, nothing would still the chilly fear that had gripped his heart. It was the oddest sensation; he was not often this frightened by something. Pondering his strange emotion, Jules suddenly wondered what exactly he was afraid of. Was it the way the wind was rasping through the trees? Was it the memory of Leah's blood spilling out and he helpless to do anything for her? Or was it the shadows that had passed across White's face when he had spoken just a few minutes ago?

A sharp crack sounded from behind him, in the woods, and Jules whirled around. There was no one there, but he stood for a short moment, trying to peer into the darkening shadows within the forest, the spicy scent of pine needles and the musty haze of old leaves tickling his senses. Finally he turned around to round the corner of the house and was drawing his breath to call for Pip when a rough, muscular hand slapped over his mouth and a corded arm wrapped around his waist. Jules gave an angry cry and struggled madly, but the thing, whatever it was, was almost twice his strength and he was helplessly dragged along. His vision was blurred by fear and rage, so he only heard a heavy door as it closed behind him and his assailant, and he could only feel the blackness that suddenly enveloped them. Water trickled beside his ear and the ground beneath his kicking feet was rough stone. Slowly a reddish light pierced his clouded sight, and Jules instantly grew limp. This must be some kind of basement, he thought, but deep down he knew what it was. It was a dungeon, plain and simple, and he'd been taken to it. Memories of the so-called dungeon in Sybil's attic, the one Pip and Alex had created last summer, filled his mind...but this was the real thing. He could tell by the dank, rotting smell and the drafty air, the blackened stone walls and the spitting torches bracketed to them. The huge creature that had grabbed him from behind lifted him off his feet, swung him around, and threw him to the ground. Jules struggled to regain his composure, his breath coming furious in dancing white clouds.

"Who are you?" he managed to gasp; he could only make out the burly shadow of a man. He heard a long, low chuckle.

"He is my servant, as you are about to become," came a harsh, grating voice from the darkness. Jules looked around and blinked; his eyes were still not adjusted to the semi-light. "Perhaps you were too stupid at the time to think and look at Mr. Small a little closer," said the voice, and a tall man stepped from the shadows into the sporadic flickering torchlight. He took in the black-clad man in one glance and his eyes were drawn to a sharp notched sword, bare at his hip. The longish yellow-blond hair was pushed from his sweat-beaded face, and the man's cat-like green eyes were burning with a feverish passion. The dark feeling Jules had been trying to push away flooded his soul like a deluge, and he involuntarily stepped back a few paces. In his hand, the man help a long twisting whip, and scarlet blood was dripping from it onto the flagstones. Jules swallowed down his horror and turned to look more closely at the man who'd brought him to this evil place. It was indeed Mr. Small, but instead of two eyes like a human, Small had one giant eyeball in the center of his forehead. He must have worn a mask earlier, for now his shadowy essence filled the room with his sheer brutality and hugeness.

"And you are Jules, I suppose," said the tall black-clad man. "I am Scorpious Sands." Jules turned to see him make a mocking bow. Anger seethed in him, and yet the fresh blood spattering the ground and the heavy rank breath of Small on the back of his neck held him from punching Sands in the smirking mouth. He nodded and licked his dry lips. "I am Jules, yes," he said. "You are one of White's Renegades?"

Sands walked thoughtfully back and forth under the blazing torch, the light glittering in his eyes. "To say that I am a mere Renegade, a naughty character, is insulting to my reputation. More like..." he turned around, and Jules was taken aback by the wild look in his eyes, "more like, I am Evil incarnate." Small gave a harsh laugh and spoke, his voice deep and rumbling.

"Shall we show him the extent of the power of Evil?" he asked. Sands stroked his sharp chin and looked at Jules. "I did have different plans for this one...but I suppose we can demonstrate a little..." Jules squared his shoulders and frowned at the man. Either he was crazy...or he was being truthful about his being White's symbol of Evil. He'd heard of such things; R.K. was a representational ego of Evil manifested within one person, but Pip had always hidden his true nature before anyone got hurt. To think that Evil itself stood before him blew Jules away.

Sands gave a curt nod and motioned for Small to grab Jules again. Jules elbowed him in the stomach and was stunned a moment later by a vicious slap across his face. He fell against a table in the middle of the room and looked down to see a long metal rod lying half-cool across it. "Think you are any match for us, boy?" Sands hissed, putting emphasis on the last word and letting his whip trail along the ground. It left a bloody trail on the stones. "Don't be a fool; you will all fall in the end. You will break under our vices, or join us."

"Perhaps we should begin the Convincing now, master," Mr. Small grunted. He spoke the word as if it held great meaning.

Sands leaped forward, his black cloak swishing, and gripped Jules's chin with his long fingers. "Write for Evil, let us guide your pen," he snarled. "Or die." Jules couldn't believe this was happening. These weren't frustrated characters, this was real. Evil was playing itself out in the form of White's characters, and it had the capability to harm them.

"I write for God," he said, jerking away from Sands's sharp fingernails. The man drilled holes through his skull with his green glowing eyes, and then threw his head back and gave a loud laugh. "You little ingrate!" he shrieked. "You wouldn't say that so quickly if you realized what you're risking. Just look what happened to her!" Sands whipped a torch from its bracket on the wall and held it into the shadows.

"Pip!" Jules yelled, although he hardly recognized the limp figure chained with arms pulled wide to the stone dungeon wall. She had been severely flogged and blood seeped through her blue shirt. Her torn shoulders slowly moved with hoarse breathing. Jules winced as he looked at her and again the anger reared up inside of him. Small gave a hearty bellow that was perhaps meant to be a laugh, and wrenched Jules's arms behind him. Jules growled and tried to break free of the iron grasp, but Small gave such a twist that he nearly snapped bone and Jules grew still before the pain overwhelmed him.

"Ah yes, you are beginning to realize Evil's power." Sands wore a smug grin on his face. "But I'm not sure you are ready to recant your ridiculous vows to write for Goodness. You need a little more convincing. The Inklings mean something to you, don't they?"

Jules swallowed several times before answering. "They are my friends, and we all use God's gift of writing to fight against Evil like you and Small." Sands waved his reply away.

"So...there is a chance that you would be upset if I did this?" Sands turned quickly and lashed his sharp whip across Pip's back again; it left a red streak over the others like a paint brush of red paint sweeping across a piece of paper. Pip leaned her forehead against the wall and didn't make a sound.

"No! Please, don't hurt her anymore!" Jules said, trying to keep the rising despair out of his words. If Sands was willing to unleash his power in so violent a way, what would stop him from venting it upon the other Inklings? The faces of the others sped through Jules's mind, each one unique and special, and he knew this Evil must be stopped. "Torture me instead," he demanded, jerking his arms away from Small's suddenly loose grip. "Pip would never write for Evil and if you keep trying to convince her otherwise, you're going to kill her."

Sands chuckled, cold and cruel. "That's the idea, boy," he answered. "And we're going to 'convince' each and every Inkling until you are all servants of the darkness and the shadows...or dead."

"Then to God be the glory," Jules spat through clenched teeth. "We're not afraid."

Sands regarded him for a moment, then a morbid smile split his face. "Small, proceed."

Small grinned and took the long notched blade Sands handed to him. He threw Jules onto the table and shackled his wrists and ankles to the sides.

"This is ridiculous," came Pip's weary voice. "You already have me, let Jules go." Sands gave a deep snarl and brought the whip down across her shoulders again.

"Shut up, little Authoress!" he commanded. "I have plans for each individual Inkling, and either they submit to the power of Evil, or they suffer the consequences."

Small, in a motion too quick to follow with the naked eye, jumped forward and raked the long knife-like sword across Jules's shoulder. Jules twisted against his shackles at the searing pain that bit into his flesh but refused to cry out. He heard Sands begin beating Pip again, who was furiously spouting in her invented vernacular. Small grinned at his victim's pain-contorted face and dragged the knife slowly down his bare arm. Jules gritted his teeth and began praying desperately. Suddenly he heard Mark's voice calling his name from outside on the mansion grounds. Jules was frantic; his younger brother did not need to be prone to Evil. Sands looked at Small and jerked his head towards the door with a wicked grin. He stopped flogging Pip, who hung limp and exhausted against the chains. Jules could no longer hold back a cry as Small walked for the door.

"I beg of you, have mercy on my little brother!" he shouted hoarsely. Small made a choked sound of anger in his voice and knifed Jules on the cheek. Jules's pleadings tapered off into a gasp of pain as warm blood ran down his cheek onto the table.

Suddenly the door crashed open, and there stood Hanz, Jane and Katie. There were dark circles under their eyes and their hair was damp and tangled, but they held swords and brandished guns, all trained at Small and Scorpious Sands. Sands gave a startled cry and dropped his whip, where it twisted and curled like a snake.

"That's enough," Hanz said, and his voice was strong. Sands shrank back against the wall in terror, not only because of Hanz and his companions, but because from the deepening shades of the winter night stepped a satyr.

"S-s-s-Sylvanus," Sands stammered.

"Yes," answered Sylvanus. "We have come to stop you."

Thank you for your patience awaiting Chapter Four; we've had some things happen amongst the Inklings that have prevented us from posting this sooner. Please note, if you are not in a chapter, you wil be in the next chapter. It'll all straighten out eventually.

Sarah's fingers caressed the keyboard and her eyes were wet with tears. She had quickly run over to her house where several of the Inklings were staying over. There had not been any sight of the missing Mariella nor of Gabrielle. As much as her soul yearned to be cheery, Sarah could not even bring herself to smile. It was as if the Inklings were falling apart. She knew they could not fight back White's Renegade characters if they were divided, they all needed to stand and fight together!
Ian was asleep on the floor, snoring loudly and muttering in his dreams, and Laura, Cherise, and Syd were all curled up peacefully in the bed. As much as she wanted someone to talk to, Sarah let them lie sleeping. They had been up most of the night, searching the town and probing about the alleys for the two missing girls. Sarah was glad, however, that Katie had been found. She would have stayed with her, Hanz and Jane, but she was needed here to keep the others reassured.
Sarah sighed as a fit of sobs gripped her. Then she shook herself. Maybe this was all a dream. Maybe everything would be alright when she woke up. Maybe. . .
Someone put an arm around her shoulders. Sarah looked up and saw Cherise smiling sadly at her.
"It's going to be alright," she said, her eyes twinkling with sympathy.
Sarah sighed. "I hope so. It's just. . . I don't want to lose any of you! You're each and every one important to the Inklings, and to have your lives endangered..." She lowered her head to the desk next to her computer and cried fresh tears.
Syd woke up with a contented sigh. "Yo. . . What's . . .? Um. . . Oh," Syd faltered when she saw Sarah crying. She reached over Laura, waking her up, and dug around in her blue book bag. Syd drew out a big partially melted bar of milk chocolate and broke it into small pieces, giving everyone a little except Ian, who still snored thunderously and was mumbling something about pirates. Laura threw him a cock-eyed glance and put her arms around Sarah.
For a couple of moments they stood there in silence, Sarah choking down her sobs, the other girls hugging. Syd was the first to look up, grabbing for her glasses.
"Hey!" she exclaimed. "Why is the window open?"
"Open!" Cherise tramped over to the gaping window and shut it. Snow had drifted into Sarah's room and was slowly melting in piles upon the window sill and in lumps upon the floor. "Who would've opened the window in winter?" Sarah sniffed.
The girls shrugged. Laura looked around Sarah's room nervously. She felt as if something was staring at them form behind the bookshelves.
Suddenly Sybil came on the Chocolate Box. "Sarah?" she typed.
The girls turned to the computer. "Here," typed Sarah quickly.
"Any sign of the girls?" Sybil typed in.
"Actually, Hanz and Jane and I found Katie."
"Oh, that is so good! How is she doing?"
"She's alright," typed in Jane, "she's traveling with Hanz and Jane, and one of Mr. White's characters to his house. They should meet up with you before too long."
"I will tell the others and pray for their safety," Sybil typed in a moment later. "Thank you for holding down the fort, my dear!"
Sarah suddenly felt an odd, creeping presence. "SYBIL?" she typed madly.
The c-box remained silent for a moment. Syd shifted her weight from one foot to another, chewing her bottom lip and feeling restless.
"Maybe. . . Maybe we should pray?" Laura suggested. "I think it's high time we all did. We must never forget Who brought us all together in the first place."
Everyone agreed, and so all the girls bowed and sent silent prayers up to the King Who sits enthroned beyond the stars.




Sybil ended her prayer aloud with an "amen".
"Amen what?" Rose asked, stretching and pulling on a dark red sweatshirt. Her hair stood up in a tangled cloud around her head and Christina, fingering the frosted glass walls of their room and thinking how she should write a story set in a place just like it, bit back a wry chuckle.
Sybil looked over her shoulder at Jo, who was sitting on the side of the bed, striving hard to put her shoe on without untying it.
"I was just praying. For the girls. Did you know Katie's been found?"
"Oh!" grunted Jo, pulling hard at her shoe, that seemed to insist on being untied first. "That's wonderful!"
Sybil said her goodbyes to the girls on the c-box, and shut her laptop. "I wonder where Pip and R.K. went to?" Gently she slipped her laptop into her big canvas book bag.
"I haven't seen them since last night," replied Rose. "I thought I heard her leave the room right before I went to sleep. I wouldn't worry, Pip can hold her own."
Meggy burst into the room. "Girls!" she almost yelled, "You'll never guess who's coming this way!"
"Josh Groban," said Jo sarcastically. She had finally got the shoe on, but her fingers were caught in it. Sybil smirked at her.
"Don't you wish?" Meggy laughed wickedly. "No, this is way better!"
"Well, who is it?" asked Christina. She fastened a Celtic knotwork belt about her long skirt and sat on the edge of the bed.
Before Meggy could answer, there was a quiet knock at the door. Meggy wrenched it open excitedly.
In stepped two female creatures. One was tall and dark skinned with flowing brown hair and emerald-green eyes. The other was shorter, with sparkling blue eyes, fair white skin and golden hair that fell in waves behind her. Sybil stared breathlessly at them. One feeling told her to bow to them, and another feeling told her to laugh, sing, or dance. Then it struck her. They were Nymphs. The tall one was obviously a dryad, and the other a naiad.
"Um. . ." stuttered Sybil, still not sure what to do. "Hi?" The other girls smiled shyly. To have a fantastical creature like these two actually standing close to them was too incredible to grasp all in one glance. They had to stare.
The dryad smiled a slow, beautiful smile, and the naiad laughed. Her voice was like bells tinkling in the sharp glassy air.
"Hi to you!" she said, still giggling. "We have come to tell you that breakfast is ready."
"Oh," Christina gasped. She was enchanted.
The girls stood there unmoving.
Then the two Nymphs curtsied slightly and left as quietly as they had entered. Still, the girls just stood there. It was Jo who broke the silence.
"That was AWESOME!" she breathed, "I wonder what kind of make-up they use. . ." Meggy wrinkled her nose at her and snickered.
"I don't know about you girls," said Sybil, standing, "but I'm hungry."
With that they dressed in a hurry, and ran down the spiral stairs into the Glass Room, where they found the glass table full of food. Jules and Mark were already there waiting for them, dark circles under their eyes, their shirts wrinkled.
"Good morning!" the girls greeted.
"Mornin'," Jules grunted as he and Mark stood to pull the high carven cedar chairs out for the girls. Christina looked closely at a carving on her chair and saw that it was a tiny rabbit being pursued by a shadowy fox, who was hiding in the bushes. Somehow she felt sorry for the little creature, even if it was only a carving.
"What's wrong with you two?" asked Rose.
"We didn't get any sleep last night," answered Mark. They told everything that had happened to them the night before. "And THEN," Mark growled, "we were so jumpy that someone would come and slit our throats that we didn't get any sleep!" Rose shuddered.
"Interesting. . ." mused Sybil, "It might have been R.K. who tied you to the ceiling."
"Speaking of R.K.," said Jules, "have y'all seen Pip?"
"No, she left our room late last night, and didn't come back," Christina answered, coming out of her reverie. She was looking across the thick glass table at the huge plates of pancakes, bowls of fresh fruit, and cups of something deliciously steamy sitting at each of their places. A dozen smells arose to meet her nose as she and the other Inklings peered at the food. There was so much of it!
The glass door on the far end of the room opened and Mr. White entered. "Good morning, young writers," he muttered, rubbing a long-fingered hand across his thin sharp face. He was dressed in a black shirt and dark brown pajama pants, and his snow white hair was wilder than last night. He sat down between Jules and Jo. "Magog?" he called.
Mr. Magog Big appeared at the bottom of the spiral staircase. "Your breakfast, sir? It's coming."
"Thank you," replied White. "Now," he said to the Inklings, "help yourself."
While the young friends began to eat (Mark was hogging all the bacon), Mr. Big came back with a silver platter, on which was a small golden loaf of bread, and a glass of the same thick steaming liquid for White.
"Is that all you're gonna eat?" Jo asked, piling pancakes onto her plate. She picked up a tiny keg of syrup and poured it all over her pancakes.
"It's all I need," replied White. "You, on the other hand, seem hungry to the fullest extent of the word."
Jo reddened. "I'm. . . . just saving some for my characters. . .?" Meggy smothered a laugh into her apple. It was a strange apple, very crisp and round and juicy, unlike any other she'd ever tasted. But then, this whole thing was a strange experience.
"I see," said White, chuckling warmly.
Throughout breakfast there reigned a happy silence. The Inklings were struck with awe at how the glass room looked with the sunlight streaming through the transparent ceiling, and reflecting off of all the glass surfaces in the room. It bounced into their eyes and they laughed to see each other's faces suddenly lit up by the light from a cup or a small tabletop.They were so mesmerized that they did not notice how long breakfast lasted. It seemed like five minutes, but was actually an hour later when White stood.
"I am going to wake myself up," he said drowsily. "You are welcome to come with me and try out my new invention, so to speak."
"Aren't you awake already?" asked Mark. He stuffed the last few pieces of bacon into his pocket and Jules rolled his eyes at him.
"That depends on your definition of awake," said White sardonically. "But come, before it gets too warm."
He led them up the spiral stair and down a dimly lit corridor, which had huge portraits of strange looking people hanging from the walls, among whom were Mr. Big, Mr. Small, and the two nymphs they had seen that morning. Christina resisted the urge to stand and stare at the beautiful creatures, she somehow didn't want to be left all alone in the dark shadowy corridor.
They came to a door which opened onto a small balcony. Rose placed her hand on the thick marble railing and jerked it back, shocked at the searing cold that met her palm. The balcony overlooked the front lawn. Snow lay in a blanket over the wilted brown grass, and tall evergreen trees with dozens of low branches good for climbing stood in tidy rows on both sides of the lawn. Several trees grew so close to the balcony, Sybil could reach out her hand and touch the rough prickly bark. The Inklings shivered in the cold wind.
"It's too cold to be out here!" Rose said, teeth chattering. She wrapped her sweatshirt closer around her.
"Naturally!" said White, smiling. "That's the whole point!" So saying, he pulled off his black night shirt. "Now." he said. "Let whoever dares, follow me!" He leapt onto the railing with surprising agility, grabbed a nearby vine, and jumped. Sailing through the air he looked like a piece of laundry that had blown off the clothesline. The girls gasped and laughed, and Mark and Jules shuddered. White had landed in a large pile of snow, and he was swimming around in it yelling at the top of his lungs.
"AMAZING!" he shouted. "It works! I'm awake! I'm such a GENIUS! Come on, Jules! Your turn!"
Jules hesitated, but then smiled crazily. He took off his hat and plopped it onto Meggy's head. Meggy held onto it tight and laughed wildly. "I have Jules's hat, muahaha!" she crowed. Then Jules tore off his shirt, and swung down to White. His yells were deafening, and nobody else tried the jump. They all laughed heartily to see Jules climb out of the snow, his bare skin red with cold, his teeth clicking loudly. White went into a loud guffaw to see him weakly raise a thumb to Mark and the girls on the balcony.


The dark woods seemed not to be touched by the blinding winter sunshine. Roiling black mists arose from the wet forest floor, bringing with it the smell of mould and mushrooms. R.K. strode in and out between the tall evergreen and oaks, shoving aside any branches that got in his way. As he walked, he fingered the wickedly sharp silver dagger that was always at his side, and tugged his long black cloak from the tangled bushes. He wondered to himself how he had managed to slip out of White's mansion into these sun-deprived woods. There was a certain eeriness to the semi-silence and the wind gently whispering through the frozen branches. He loved it. It made him feel wild and he held his dagger and fingered it lovingly.
Suddenly Pip's SAE heard a noise behind him. He froze, his black eyes piercing the shadows flitting back and forth through the shaded woods. Deciding it was nothing, he walked on until he came to a wide quiet glen overlooking a shallow dip in the land. He took in all twinkling lights in a single glance. The illustrious tiny-town of Dale...ha! Overrun with crazy teenagers who called themselves authors. He hated the very sight of a pen, unless it was put into his hand.
A twig snapped and he whirled around, only to face a man slightly shorter than himself, with a raggedy cape of dark grey tatter and conniving yellowish black eyes. R.K. nearly stumbled back into a bush in surprise, but then regained his icy composure and stared the man in the eye.
"Lost?" he snarled sarcastically.
"Hardly," the man returned. His voice was smooth and rough at the same time, the very voice of a liar. "I am here to help you."
R.K. immediately became suspicious. "Oh yeah?" he drawled, and leaned insolently against a tree. "How so?"
"You're part of a writing group called the Inklings, right?"
R.K. was silent for a moment, liking the way the man wriggled under his unblinking black stare. "I might be."
"I hear you're having some trouble with them. Let me introduce myself...I am called Foulmarke."


Beth snickered and tossed a big shiny apple at Sam's head. "Catch!" she bellowed.
"More flour!" Sam shouted out, and Cherith hauled the flour back out of the cabinet. "Boy, if I do too much tugging and pulling, I'll look like Popeye by the time we're finished!" Her voice held a charming lilt to it and Beth relished listening to it.
Sam clapped her hands together, sending up a cloud of dust, and barked, "We don't have all day, you peoples, let's get this apple pancake in the oven and baking for when Christina and the others get back!" She smeared the recipe book with a streak of white flour and squinted at the tiny print. But she was used to it, she read books with small print all the time, so it only took her a moment to figure out she should have added a fourth teaspoon of cinnamon. "Oh, well..."
Cherith snapped a dishtowel happily at the ceiling and after hanging it on the oven door handle, she decided she would see the recent messages on the Chocolate Box. Setting Sam's sticky laptop on the dining room table, she opened it up and typed "Heyloo?" just in case, then proceeded to see the most recent things said.
"Hey, Katie's been found!" she yelled. Beth rubbed her forehead-she was tired after staying up til unholy hours last night watching Prince Caspian with her friends-and grinned weakly. "Good!" she mumbled. Sam looked over at her and burst into giggles. Beth laughed and picked up a banana from the fruit bowl on the counter, holding it to her ear like it was a phone. At that very moment the real phone rang and all three girls exploded into a gale of laughter.
"HELP!" came the sudden message on the c-box. Cherith happened to look down, still laughing, and notice it. Her forehead wrinkled. "Huh?" she typed in.
Sam flapped her hand at Beth for silence, and, still trying to smother her laughter, answered the phone. "Hello?" she said delicately.
"I AM MONSTERSAURUS, ROOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRR!" shouted a young girl's voice in Sam's ear. Sam jerked the phone away and burst into laughter again. "WHAT?" she yelled back.
Beth happened to turn around and saw the sudden look of horror cross Cherith's face. She rushed over to the laptop and peered at the c-box.
"we are being attacked" had been hastily typed into it.
"WHAT?" typed Cherith quickly. "By whom?"
Sam giggled and didn't notice the two girls hovering anxiously over her laptop, awaiting an answer. She listened with bemusement as the young girl on the other end of the line babbled away.
"PICKLE, get OFF the TABLE!" the girl screamed shrilly.
"Pickle, whu'???" Sam wondered aloud. "Hey you, is this a-" Her words were broken off by a distant crash on the other end. "Is everything alright over there, miss?"
"by gabrielle and mari!" came the hasty answer on the Chocolate Box. Cherith slowly looked up at Beth, a creeping terrified sensation shadowing her usually happy eyes.
"Sam, we got to go, NOW," Beth shouted, grabbing her denim coat and putting it on backwards and then upside down.
Sam turned to stare at her. Seeing Cherith's fear-stricken face, she rabbled something unintelligible into the phone and flung it to the counter.
"Well," came the voice from the phone as the front door closed with a bang, "my name is Liz and I'd like to...hello?"


Lucy grabbed a package of Pringles chips from the store shelf and tucked them under her arm.
"Now it looks like you're stealing!" Joy hissed. She laughed gently, seeing a store clerk staring at Lucy's long silver cloak, and shoved open the chill doors of the refrigerator for four bottles of icy cold root beer. Lucy grinned at the bottles. She was trying to be happy, but the haunted look on Alex's face and the frightened look darkening his little sister Ness's face was stuck in her mind so that she was nearly sobbing behind her sparkling eyelids. To have things falling apart, right in front of her, was madness. Her brave heart longed to help the Inklings, yet somehow she had no idea how. It drove her crazy. Joy felt the same way, strong enough to fight back the Evil that was threatening them and yet unsure of what to do.
Joy walked over to get a bag of little crusty chocolate chip cookies, and the two girls walked over to the cashier, who was a tall nerdy fellow with thick-rimmed glasses and a permanent smirk. Lucy suddenly mused over what would happen if she stared at him, really hard, with her green eyes. Perhaps he would drop that pen out from behind his ear...
Joy was just digging around in her little blue flower pocketbook and Lucy was seriously considering shouting something about cream puffs into the smug grinning nerd's face, but deciding against it, when the door banged open and a girl flew in, her cheeks ruddy with running. Joy, Lucy and the cashier all stared at the girl, who was wearing a wrinkled plaid kilt, thin ponytail holders on her wrist and her hair was all matted as thought she'd just come out of bed.
"Help, we're being attacked over at Sarah's place!" she yelled.
Lucy and Joy gave each other one look, then ran out the door, not even bothering to take their purchases. The cashier looked after them open-mouthed as the three girls hurried away into the white afternoon mists.



Pip blinked in the dim torchlight and looked all about her. Her head ached and her mouth was sore where the hand had grabbed it. She tried to get up but found that her wrists and ankles were shackled to a cold stone table. Fighting rising panic, she pulled against the iron shackles and looked about her for some clue a to where she was. It was obviously a dungeon; she'd read enough books to know that much. Water dripped down the walls and plinked onto the slimy floors like a soft death-march. A putrid haze like fog hung in the shadows, slightly green in color, and a dank stale stench, like rotting plants, was strong. A furnace blazed to her right, cut directly into the flagstones of the smoke-blackened wall, and several long metal rods lay heating on the hearth. Pip sighed and flopped once more to her uncomfortable position, lying on her back watching the water run down from the ceiling. She wondered where it was coming from.
"I trust you are Pippin Armour, of the Inklings?" came a snarly voice. Pip froze.
"Ah yes, you've heard voices like mine before, girl." Pip saw a shadow dance on the walls, sent out by a weak red torch. Suddenly a looming figure came into sight. It was a tall man, dressed all in black, with a long black cloak and a wicked notched sword sheathed at his side. For a moment Pip's heart leapt, thinking it was R.K. playing a trick on her, but when he turned the man's face was sunken and sallow, his eyes blazing green instead of black, and his hair was long and dirty blond. Pip wrinkled her nose and looked at him. "Who are you?"
The man gave her a stiff bow. "I am Scorpious Sands, White's Renegade villain. My dear, I have a great plan for you. You, and all of your friends."
Pip growled and pulled at her shackles. "Don't call me dear."
The man ignored her and walked over to the furnace, drawing out one of the red-hot fire pokers. "Yes, Inkscum, soon all of you are going to be under my power. Shall I explain? Very well. In White's book, I represent Evil. I AM Evil." Pip noticed a familiar gleam in Sands's eyes and struggled harder against her iron shackles. "Ever since he started working on the Satyr's book, I've been prowling for revenge. I rallied the Renegades together, and we revolted. I'm sure you're all acquainted with the concept of rebel characters. Of course you are. Well, here our beloved Mr. White is calling some amateur authors, surely none of them older than twenty, to help him get control of us. HA!" The laugh came out like a snort. "That will not be happening. We're going to kill the Inklings off, after, of course, offering them servitude to our forces against White. Lucky you, you're the first to go because you're too dangerous to wait around for."
Sands suddenly struck out with his hand and grabbed her wrist.
"Hey now, you can't mess with the Inklings!" Pip realized how pitiful that sounded only after she'd said it. She cleared her throat and tried again. "You are not to harm my friends, you Renegade." Sands merely laughed and with a quick motion like lightning, pressed the searing red hot poker against Pip's finger, on the finger she wrote with the most. Pip gasped and bit back a cry of pain.
"Yes," Sands hissed, bending to whisper in her ear, "we will kill you off slowly, one by one."
Moving quickly, almost as if he did not wish to be discovered, Sands unshackled Pip from the rough cold table and chained her chafed wrists to the stone wall.
"What'll it be, girl?" he snarled. Pip heard the evil slashing sound of a whip being pulled from the floor and braced herself. "Are you going to take our side and help beat back this injustice?"
"To have Goodness reign is no injustice at all," Pip replied. She said a prayer for the Inklings wildly in her mind. "Go on and try, I can vouch for their bravery and hope! You'll never win, and you're a fool to think it!"
Sands gave a high-pitched shriek of anger and slashed the whip across Pip's back.

Katie blinked through tear filled eyes at the sun shining through the thick branches overhead. A snake hissed somewhere in the tall grass and she wanted to run and hide, but bound and gagged as she was, it was impossible. How long she’d struggled against the chafing ropes, she knew not. Blood trickled from her forehead where she had struck a rock. "Katie, was it not?" said a smooth male voice. "Pretty name. You may call me Blacke."
Katie turned her head so that she could face Blacke. What she saw was a great shadow-colored cat. Her captor purred and paced around her on four padded paws. Her teary green eyes burned with anger.
"It's alright," said Blacke, morphing back into the tall black-clad man that had grabbed her in the dark last night. "I won't hurt you. But I don't speak for Scorpius Sands."
Blacke stooped down and took the gag off. Katie fought the urge to bite his long fingers. "Go ahead," he said, smiling grimly. "I see you want to; ask me who Scorpius Sands is."
Katie thought she would rather spit in Blacke's long clean-shaven face, but she was curious. "Wh-who is he?" she stuttered.
"He is the Scorpion, my master. He created me. He is the ruler of the realm of imagination and soon, the ruler of the real world too."
Katie was confused, so she remained silent. She shrank back into a shadow cast by a big pine tree.
Blacke was about to say something, but he was interrupted by the sound of beating wings. Katie looked up and saw the large form of a vulture descending down from the trees. The bird landed in front of Blacke and slowly changed into a man. He was not as tall as Blacke and he was much uglier. A foul stench filled Katie’s nostrils and she sneezed.
"What news, Foulmarke?" demanded Blacke. It was obvious that Blacke was Foulmarke's superior.
"Some of the Inkscum have already arrived at White's house," answered the ugly shapeshifter. "The Scorpion says it would be best to do away with this one." He motioned to Katie. Katie stiffened with fear and her pulse raced but she made her chin strong and refused to show fear.
Blacke sighed. "I hate my job," he said. "Especially when I have to do away with someone. A nasty business, that." His beady eyes turned upon the young Inkling. “Especially when the captive is so lovely.” Katie felt sick.
Foulmarke nodded and looked at Katie with something like disgust mixed with pity. Mostly disgust. Katie returned his look with one of defiance. She willed herself not to be weak.
"Any other orders?" asked Blacke lazily.
"No, just report back to headquarters as soon as you're done. I'll leave you to your work." Foulmarke’s fat paunch twisted and his arms grew long and feathered. His pimply face melted into a hard beak and his clothes turned into dirty tatters. With a great windy flapping and hoarse cawing, Foulmarke rose into the dull gray January sky and was gone. The shadowy pines had swallowed him up.
Blacke sighed again and drew a wicked looking knife from his wide black belt. "I'm sorry, Katie," he said as he sharpened it on a flat stone he picked up off the ground. "Truly I am. We Shapeshifters are. . . or were… decent folk. But that was a long time ago."
"Then stop," pleaded Katie. "If you were decent, you wouldn't do this."
"Things have changed!" Blacke almost shouted. He rubbed the blade hard against the stone as if he wanted to break it. "Ever since. . ." His deep voice faltered.
"Since what?" Katie thought that if she could keep him talking, she could find a way to escape. She began carefully twisting her bonds and to her fervent relief, they slowly gave way and started to unravel.
"I-I used to be Tobias White's character," he said, still sharpening his knife. The grating sound hurt Katie’s ears. "And in the story he put me in, I had a daughter."
"What was her name?" Katie was desperate for time. One of her hands was free of the tight cords, and she was wildly trying to free the other.
"Tabitha," Blacke said, smiling sadly, "She was about your age. She was just like her mother." Lost in his thoughts, the tall man stopped rubbing the knife to the stone and stared piercingly at the ground. Katie could see tears forming in his hard gray eyes.
"What happened?" Katie’s bonds were nearly loose enough for her to slip from them.
"Sylvanus happened," Blacke said with a growl. To Katie's dismay, he started sharpening the knife again. The knife sliding harshly against the smooth stone was like a grim death-rhythm. "In my story, my wife was about to have a baby. It was to be a boy, White told me. Right before the baby was born, White stopped writing my story, and began on Sylvanus's. I have always wondered what my son would have been like. But I was never to know. The pain I felt over the whole affair was doomed to haunt me to this very day. I vowed never to let a mere author cause me such anguish again!"
Blacke ran his thumb over the blade and then waved it in the air like a madman. "My new master will NOT abandon me! I serve the Scorpion!" Katie pulled madly at her bonds. Why wouldn’t they give?
Blacke towered over Katie, knife held high, his shadow chilling her. She felt frantic but scorned screaming. Katie closed her eyes to pray, and waited.
The blow never came. Slowly she opened her eyes. Blacke was still frozen above her, but the knife had been lowered to his side. His eyes no longer looked like those of a madman but they bore a mournful, wistful look.
His voice was gentle as he said, "Tabitha. . .I will not do this." Thank you, Lord! thought Katie.
A shout rang out, followed by several others, shattering the tense silence. Blacke turned to see what it was and the tall dark man was knocked roughly to one side by a great blurred Thing. Katie looked around and was surprised when she saw Hanz, Jane, and Sarah run up, looking concerned and worried.
"Oh, Katie!" cried the girls, while Hanz cut the rest of the cords with his pocketknife. Katie was crushed between Sarah, who had reported to Sybil early in the morning. Strangely, Sybil had not been at the Chocolate Box, but Sarah only had enough time that morning to run into her house, type a quick, mysterious note and then rush back out to Hanz and Jane.
"Wait!" Katie suddenly shouted. She stood up, knocking Sarah and Jane over. "Don't hurt him!"
Blacke was wrestling on the ground with something she had never seen before. The creature was slashing at his throat and wrapping its short stout body around Blacke’s ribs, breaking them. Katie picked up the stone that Blacke had been using to sharpen his knife, and threw it at the beast. The Thing leaped up with a throaty yelp, and dashed away into the woods before Katie could recognize any shape to it. Blacke stood up, gasping and clutching at his side. He grimaced as he straightened and looked around. Then he changed into a blackbird with a swish of black wind and flew away up into the tree limbs, cawing raucously.
"But Katie!" said Jane, astonished. "He was going to kill you!" Her long dark hair was tangled and fell into her eyes.
"No he wasn't!" Katie leapt to Blacke’s defense. "He is really good! He’s just…he’s had a hard life as White’s character."
"Well, he's gone now," said Hanz matter-of-factly. "And that is probably a good thing."
Katie rolled her eyes at him. "What was that. . . that Thing that was just here?"
"Sylvanus," answered Sarah, “the Satyr. He was going to help us find you, and then lead us to Mr. White's house. But it seems we will have to find it on our own, because you startled him away."
"No," said Hanz decidedly, "we will find him."
"Shh. . ." said Sarah suddenly. "Listen!"
Everyone was quiet. The sound of a clear lilting pipe drifted through the trees.
"Let's follow that music," said Katie.
Carefully making their way through the underbrush, the four silently searched for Sylvanus, following the deep melancholy notes of his pipe. It led them into a mist-shrouded group of cedar trees, and there Katie saw Sylvanus clearly for the first time. He was unmistakably a Satyr. His face was goat-like and his long horns curled back behind his head. He was sitting on a moss-covered stump with his furry legs crossed. His eyes were closed as he played on a long pipe made of polished bone. Tiny bits of light were swirling around him in time with the music; Katie supposed them to be fairies and her heart jumped with excitement.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and a twig snapped. Instantly the fairies flew away, blending with each other’s cheery twinkling light, high in the trees. The Satyr crouched ready to spring, every muscle in his body quivering. His eyes darted straight to where the four friends were hiding amongst the bushes. To Katie's surprise, he laughed. It was a somber laugh, but a kind one nonetheless.
"Oh great Satyr-hunters," he said, "your very breathing rings loud in my ears."
The Inklings came out of hiding, grinning sheepishly. Sylvanus stepped toward Katie with his hand outstretched. "So this is the mighty rock-throwing maid?" he said, offering a hint of a smile. "That was quite a nasty knock you gave me."
"I'm sorry about that," Katie apologized. She placed her small hand into the Satyr's large calloused one.
"Come," said Sylvanus after a pause, "it is time to go." And with that they left, Sylvanus leading them, playing a sad song on his pipe. As they walked, Katie had a strange feeling that they were being followed.


"What are you doing?" asked Justyne's dad, picking up the laptop and hiding it inside his coat. "Don't scare me like that again!"
Justyne looked up from where she was kneeling by Leah. "Dad!" she said breathlessly, "Leah's hurt!" Her friend was gasping and clutching at her hand.
"Oh, sure. What kind of game are you two playing?" Justyne’s father smiled knowingly. His daughter often played tricks like that with her fellow Inklings. A strange, creative bunch, those young writers.
"We're NOT playing! Don't you see the blood?" Justyne felt tears pricking the backs of her eyelids as she braced her feet and gently lifted Leah into her arms.
Her dad looked Leah over. "Nope, no blood. You need to stop playing violent games like this, you‘ll frighten someone." And with that, he turned and strode into the house. Justyne stared after him in dismay. It must have been a renegade character that shot Leah, because he couldn't see the blood.
"But Dad!" Justyne called after him, but he just waved it off. Justyne began sobbing; he thought it was all a game! She turned back to Leah, who was still not moving. A couple of joggers ran by, but they just ran faster when Justyne called wildly after them, "Will someone help me?” Her heart pounded achingly as she carried Leah over to a tree and laid her back against the rough bark. The blood flow was still heavy and had stained Justyne’s skirt. She was about to dash inside for the telephone to call 911 when a blast of wing-swept wind nearly bowled her over.
A dark shadow passed overhead, and a loud noise like a hawk's cry rent the air. Justyne yelped and threw herself in front of her wounded friend as a huge birdlike creature landed right in front of her, with a ground-shaking thud. It had the body and back legs of a lion, and the head and wings of a golden eagle. She recognized it as a Gryphon from a mythology book she'd read. For a moment she just stared at it.
"Well?" said the Gryphon, "What are you staring at? Come on, the young one needs medical care! I know someone who can help your friend."
"H-how do you…wh-who are you?" asked Justyne, still too surprised to move.
"Does it matter?" answered the Gryphon impatiently. "Get on my back!"
Leah moaned a little, still bleeding from her chest, and Justyne stood and lifted her onto the Gryphon's back. Then she climbed on. The creature below her felt warm and sturdy.
"Hold on tight," said the Gryphon as he prepared to jump. The muscles under Justyne’s legs rippled and braced. Justyne wrapped her arms around Leah, who gasped for breath, and gripped the thick Gryphon hair. She closed her eyes tight.
Justyne waited, but nothing happened. "When are you going to start flying?" she asked.
"About ten seconds ago."
Justyne's eyes flew open, and then snapped shut again. They were above the clouds.


Alex slumped onto the couch. His eyes were haunted. "There were thousands of them," he breathed. "They were all over the place."
The whole house was a wreck. Windows were cracked, the furniture was torn, lamps and vases were lying broken all over the floor, and dust was floating thick in the air.
"What were they?" asked Lucy in a whisper.
"I don't know. They seemed like small pieces of a shadow that moved as one."
"And how exactly can pieces of a shadow try to kill you?" Joy seemed not to realize the question sounded sarcastic.
Alex looked at her. "Darkness." There was something in his voice that stopped all other questions. The four Inklings were silent for a time.
"Well," said Ness shakily, "What do we do now?"


Mariella groaned as she rubbed her head. Her first thought was for her Turtle of Doom. Looking around, she saw Gabrielle lying slumped against a dirty white wall. They were in a small compact room that smelled strongly of peppermint, and her Turtle was nowhere to be seen.
Mari struggled to her feet, her orange shoelaces untied, and pushed her hair from her eyes. Gabrielle sighed and looked up at her.
“Where are we, why, and is there any food? Sure smells weird.” Mari smiled. “Too bad we didn’t bring along that extra toffee.” Gabrielle moaned and lazily looked around her.
“I wonder where this place is?” Mari shrugged and walked around the room. There was no door, no window or seam in the off-white paint. There was only an AC vent in the ceiling that blew out the sweet cold odor. She shivered and rubbed her arms. Why was her jacket missing?
Gabrielle laughed to herself. “Monkeys don’t REALLY fly, now do they?” Mariella turned to stare at her friend and suddenly realized. That nice peppermint wind was poisoned. They were slipping from consciousness.
“Gabrielle! Fight that warm feeling that’s creeping into your bones, it’s bad!” Gabrielle blinked at her.
“Whaddya mean?” she giggled. Mari felt her senses growing fuzzy, and she desperately fought against the numbing smell that forced its way into her nose. She crouched down beside Gabrielle and shook the girl by the shoulders.
“Wake up! Do you hear me, Gabrielle, this room is gassed and we might die if we don’t…if we don’t fight…against…ah, that lovely smell!” Mariella’s fingers slowly slipped from Gabrielle’s shirt as both girls leaned against each other.
A roaring laugh sounded from the peppermint vent. “You are MINE!” it shrieked, loud enough to make Gabrielle, even in her semi-conscious state, flinch back against the white plaster.
“No, monkeys do…not fly…” Mariella sighed as she slipped into a deep sleep against Gabrielle’s shoulder.
“I didn’t…think so.”

Thank you for your patience! We ran into some difficulties as to what our actual plot was going to be, but now Jules and I have it straightened out. Your comments have been a blessing! Keep us accountable if we make a mistake. Also, there have been so many wonderful new members joining recently that we are unable to include any more characters. Please accept our apologies, but I do believe that The Inklings books are to be a series. If you do not make it into this one, most likely you will make it into the next one or the one after that. As always, thanks to R.K. for editing.

Christina shivered convulsively as she climbed out of her warm puffy sheets. She grinned as she heard Sam, Beth and Cherith breathing gently on the floor; Beth snored. Christina looked out the window. The sunrise had not yet painted the horizon and a warbling bird sang blithely all alone.
If I were a creature on this day, thought Christina, I’d be that lone bird. It was a strange thought, but she liked it. Christina went into the bathroom, sang quietly in the shower and got dressed. She wondered lazily at the silence throughout the rest of the house; the water hitting the bathtub floor sounded like crashes. Christina emerged in a hot cloud of steam. She looked up and down the hall, but saw no one.
Perhaps they’re down in the basement. The tall elfin girl opened the basement door, but no light fell onto the burnished floor. She suddenly remembered the strange feeling from last night and a chill crept up her back. She turned and fled back into her room, slamming the door behind her, and jumped back into her bed. Sam turned over in her sleep and Cherith mumbled something quietly about flies. Beth continued to snore.
A few hours passed and the wind howled. Christina lay in her bed and listened to it. It sounded angry, like a beast that wished to pry cold fingers down her shirt. She was drifting into a warm, delicious semi-sleep when a furious pounding at the front door jolted her awake. Perhaps her parents had been locked out? She slipped out of bed and rushed barefoot to the living room. She wrenched open the door and to her surprise, found Sybil standing there, followed by Jo, Meggy and Rose. They all looked grimy and groggy, and Christina hastily let them in.
“What happened?” she asked in amazement as Sybil thrust a package of light green stationary into her hand.
“Mari, Gabrielle and Katie have all gone missing!” Her brown eyes glinted angrily and, had Maddock been there, she would have vented her anger by punching his arm hard. Christina dropped the stationary and stared at her four friends.
“You have GOT to be kidding me,” she squeaked. “Kidnapped? Are you positive?” She led her fellow Inklings to the dining room to sit down.
“Hanz, Jane, Sarah, Katie and I were all on the chocolate box last night when Katie said she heard a noise outside and wanted to go check it out.” Sybil took a breath. “Time passed, and she never came back! I called her cell and there was only that dull voicemail.”
“We were walking home,” Meggy continued as she waved towards Jo and Rose, “when Sybil comes running up with no coat and says something’s happened. We tried contacting Mari and Gabrielle, but we got nothing and when we were passing by an alley, we saw a bunch of rubble and some smashed-up boxes. And there was Mari’s Turtle of Doom, freezing by itself. He’s over at my place now.”
Rose spoke up, “If Mariella’s Turtle has been left all alone, you KNOW something’s wrong.”
Jo leaned back in her chair and shook her head. “This is weird.” Christina frowned at her for stating the obvious. “I could somehow sensed that something was wrong, I don’t know how but I could feel it…”
“We all did,” Sybil huffed. “And I think this all has something to do with that Mr. White. So here is the stationary. We must write him and, much as I hate to force my Muse, agree to helping him.” The others nodded their acquiescence and Rose got out a pen. Quickly the girls wrote a letter to the professor and they all tramped out to put it in the mailbox.
Then they all looked at one another. “Now what?”

Ian awoke with a snort on his disheveled pallet; he’d not wanted to sleep in his room because of “that weird feeling”, and Laura had convinced her mother to let them both stay up in the living room. Laura sat up on the couch and shook the dizziness from her eyes. Her laptop lay shoved to one side and her lavender sweater was twisted around her shoulders. Laura pushed Ian towards the bathroom and walked over to their mother, who was fixing breakfast in the kitchen. Laura thoughtfully whisked the eggs around in a glass bowl. What a strange feeling had passed over her last night! She looked around at Ian’s tousled hair as he cocked an eyebrow at her. Now that the morning lights had broken over the gray January hills, everything seemed alright. There was nothing to fear; Laura was safe and warm within her mother’s house. She beat the eggs harder, eager to go over to Sybil’s house for the meeting.

Jane, Sarah and Hanz walked through the gray woods carrying sticks for swords. Every other step they called out “Katie!” but it had been three hours and Katie had not shown herself. Hanz had rushed over to her house and had thoroughly scoured the yard and every bush, but there was no sign of either Katie or anything that could have made the noise. Hanz was an excellent tracker and he finally had to conclude that there was nothing for it but to search Dale high and low for their friend.
Jane, her long dark hair damp and twisted with dew and twigs, sat down on a fallen tree and gave a frustrated sigh. Sarah twirled her stick and lopped off a young sapling.
“You don’t think she went into the mountains?” Jane shivered, her face haggard with weariness. She’d been searching frantically all night. The flitting shadows and pictures of what horrible things could leap out to get her friend had haunted her happy spirit.
Hanz rubbed his arms and shrugged a shoulder. “I doubt she would have made it all the way into the mountains in one night,” he said, scanning the horizon between the stark trees. “One can’t go straight into the peaks without having to take a lot of side paths and detours.”
Sarah sighed and tears glistened behind her eyelashes. “I just can’t believe she’s gone. I mean, it was all so sudden! Oooh, if only there was someone who could tell us where she went!”
“I might be able to,” said a deep voice behind them. All three Inklings jumped and brandished their sticks.

Cherise turned the doorknob carefully and shuddered as the cold air hit her chest. She closed the front door behind her and wrapped her coat tighter about her. Hopping up and down, she made her way to the end of the driveway and began walking along the road.
Nothing like a brisk morning walk to get the inspiration flowing…humph! Nothing like freezing your nose off to get it…Cherise’s grumbling thoughts halted when she saw a girl run like crazy to her mailbox and wrench it open. Cherise watched, snickering, while the girl pawed through the mail, pulled out a bright lime green envelope, and proceeded to read it right there before the street. Cherise wondered whether she should walk the other way or meet the girl, but as she was about to turn and trot back the girl looked up and noticed her.
“Yo!” she called. Cherise blinked. “Huh?”
“Hey, you!” The girl tucked the mail under her arm and ran across the street, narrowly missing a speeding car. “Yo!” she said again when she was close to Cherise.
“Um…hi,” Cherise said. The girl was tall with short golden brown hair and ruddy cheeks. She wore a plaid kilt skirt and had several plastic bead bracelets and ponytail holders on her wrists.
“My name’s Sydney Johnson, what’s yours?” she asked.
“Cherise,” she answered. Sydney pumped her hand up and down.
“Nice, very nice. You can call me Syd, though. Can I call you Cherry?” The girls looked at each other and grinned.
“Do you live in that house?” Cherise asked, pointing. She was surprised to find herself walking along the sidewalk with the girl and swinging her arms in wide arcs.
“Yeah,” said Syd. “We just moved there and today was my first time checking the mail.” She winked and held up her bundle. “We got a lotta stuff! How do these crazy folks find our address?”
Cherise laughed and noticed the purple clouds for the first time. “I have no idea, but a few weeks ago we got an ad for Papa John’s! Imagine, who’d want to bother sending us a pizza ad?”
Syd laughed uproariously and zipped up her coat. She looked around happily. “Where are we going?”
“I was taking a walk before my writing time. It seems to help me, although Mari and Gabrielle find it more helpful to take night walks and Hanz stays up until five doing chemistry.”
“Who are they?”
Cherise blushed. She’d almost forgotten the girl still had no idea of the kids her age in Dale, much less the Inklings.
“Oh…it’s just a writing group that meets together at Sybil’s house almost every day. There are a lot of us now.”
“A writing group? That sounds cool! Do you like to write?” Syd said.
Cherise laughed shyly. “I’ve already written lots of things. I want to be a writer.”
“So what do you do at the meetings?”
Cherise’s eyes glowed. “We read aloud our writing and give each other feedback, and our characters talk to each other and three members share a Muse who runs off all the time and we have adventures and kill each other and eat sardines and push each other into lakes and celebrate special occasions with wild parties and lots of root beer-” She suddenly broke off. Syd was guffawing. Her cheeks flamed; how could she have been so foolish? To someone who wasn’t a writer, everything she’d just said made no sense at all! But then Syd shouted, “That sounds PERFECT!!!” Cherise stopped walking and turned to look at the girl. “What do you mean?”
“I’m a writer and that sounds exactly like what I was hoping for!” Syd danced around on the sidewalk and spilled some of her mail.
“Y-you’re a…a writer!” Cherise declared. She was suddenly very happy and the next few hours were spent scheming with Syd to lay out plans for her membership to the Inklings.

Justyne and Leah laughed peered through the spyglass again. “Yup, he got it!!!” Leah squealed, and jumped up and down. Their father was walking mischievously out of Justyne’s garage, with what his daughter hoped was a laptop for her birthday tucked conspicuously under his arm. Leah danced up and down, happy for her friend. “This’ll be great!” she screamed in a whisper. Justyne couldn’t stand it any longer. She was about to leap out at her father, surprising him, when a great explosion rocked Dale. Leah yelled and sat down hard. Justyne covered her eyes as she heard her father give an astonished cry. The town spun before her eyes as she looked around. Then Leah gave a horrible shriek. Justyne’s friend lay on the gravel driveway, unmoving.
“LEAH!” Justyne screamed. Her father had dropped the parcel in horror. Leah’s blood was spilling out onto a shiny new laptop.

Joy met Lucy at Alex’s door and they decided to pay his little sister Ness a visit. They knocked together on the white door. “How have you been?” Joy asked Lucy as they waited. “I want to get to know you better.”
“Oh, I’ve been doing very good,” Lucy answered. She suddenly giggled. “Are you random?”
“Dearie, every single Inkling is weird, random and crazy. You fit right in.” Lucy roared with laughter as Joy knocked again. The door finally opened with a creak. Lucy and Joy gave a simultaneous gasp as they saw Alex, a Medieval sword in hand, open the door and glare at them. There were dark circles under his eyes and his usually happy face was haggard. Ness was shaking behind him. “Inklings!” she cried, and burst into tears. Lucy moved and wrapped her arms around the younger girl. Joy looked around. “What is wrong?” she demanded. Alex shuddered and sank to the floor. His words were so soft, Joy had to bend down to hear them.
“They tried to kill us.”

Jules, Mark, Pip, and R.K. lay trembling on the ground as rubble showered over their heads. The shaking finally stopped. Mark was the first to look up.
"Holy taters!" he exclaimed.
The others stood. There, in the middle of the living room, was a bright red double-decker bus. Along the side in glossy yellow lettering were the words "T. White Shuttle Service".
"What the . . ." R.K. was stopped short by a loud creaking noise. The door of the bus was opening. Jules drew his sword. Pip threw back her head. Mark hid under R.K.'s cloak and the villain scowled.
A man no taller than Jules' knee got off the bus and stepped onto the glass-strewn floor. He was wearing a gray coat that was much too big for him and a black top hat was perched on his head. This he doffed, and bowed low.
"My name," he said in a surprisingly deep voice, "Is Mr. Magog Big. I am the head character of Mr. White's estate, and he has sent me to come for you. He requires your assistance immediately!"
"Sent for us?" repeated Mark, coming out of his hiding place. R.K. snarled and wrapped his long black cloak more tightly around himself.
"Someone must have already replied to his letter," exclaimed Pip. Jules tried to look intimidating towards Magog Big, but he couldn’t help liking him. “The rest of us weren’t consulted! Who answered the letter?”
"Me!"
Everyone looked up in surprise as Sybil leaned out of a window in the top deck of the bus. Her short brown hair bobbed around her worried face. Christina, Jo, Meggy, and Rose were looking out the other windows.
"And just WHY did you not tell us you were answering White’s letter?" R.K. asked with a hint of annoyance in his voice.
"I did it on an impulse," said Sybil. “We all talked about it and decided something like this couldn’t wait. Beth, Cherith and Sam are on guard duty over at my house to welcome the Inklings who haven’t heard the news yet and direct them to Mr. White’s house. And by the way, we're staying the night."
"So," said Mr. Big gesturing toward the door, "are we ready to go?"
"Oh, hang on a minute, I didn’t hear this part!” Rose said. “We’re staying the night?" She looked like she would panic. "But I haven't packed or anything! What about clothes? Make-up? And SHOES!!!!!"
"Just like a girl," Jules said to himself. He coughed as Pip turned a piercing glare on him.
"You needn't worry your head about that," said Mr. Big shaking his little head, "We have everything you fair maidens and brave warriors require at the house.” Pip turned bright red and Mark couldn’t help swaggering. “And I'm sure the Nymphs could weave you something."
Meggy’s eyes brightened. "Nymphs?" she repeated excitedly. “You failed to mention that yet!”
Mr. Big nodded. "And Elves."
Pip jumped into the bus without hesitating. "Then what are we waiting for?" she yelled. Jules was glad his parents weren't home. This was nuts! He pushed aside all doubts of what he would tell them when they finally got home and stepped into the bus, followed by Mark and R.K. Magog Big closed the door behind them. Jules looked around. Inside it looked much bigger than it did on the outside.
"I claim shotgun!" shouted Mark as he plopped down beside Magog Big.
"I claim shotgun upstairs!" said Jules.
"Not before I get it!" challenged Pip. Jules laughed wickedly. He ran up to the top deck with Pip and R.K. right behind him.
Jules beat them to the top, but his victory was cut short when he saw that Sybil was already in the front seat.
"Oh man," he said. "Well, I wanted to sit in the back anyway. I just…"
Jo laughed and R.K. snorted. Jules sat in the back row and looked out the window. "Hey!" he said suddenly.
"What?" asked Sybil looking back.
"I thought there would be a hole in the wall," said Jules, "You know, where the bus crashed through."
Everyone looked, and sure enough the house was just as it had been before the bus came. Jo rolled her eyes. “It’s a magic bus, stupid.” Jules looked around at his living room outside, and discovered that all the rubble and broken glass has disappeared. He looked at Magog Big in amazement. Was he some sort of magician?
Mr. Big's voice came over the intercom. "Are you all ready?"
"Yeah!" they all chorused.
"Okay, then! Reach under your seat, pull that metal bar and we'll be on our way."
Everyone reached under their seats and felt for the bar. Their hands only felt the smooth seats.
"You people are so gullible!" laughed Mr. Big.
Everyone but R.K. chuckled. "Not funny, little man. . ." he mumbled.
There was a jolt, and everyone buckled up in a hurry. "Wait!" said Meggy suddenly, "how are we going to get out?" The wall had mended itself and the bus sat huge and squat in the middle of Jules’s living room.
"You'll see," answered Christina, smiling.
Jules looked out the window. The bus was moving straight toward the wall. He felt sick as he thought of the long hours spent painting that ridiculous wall with his father.
"We’re gonna crash!!!" Mark yelled.
"No, just watch and see," Jo grinned. This was insane!
The bus was now a foot away from the wall. Mark looked scared, and R.K. considered laughing wildly. Jules didn't know what to do, but Sybil, Meggy, Rose, Christina and Jo were all smiling so he tried to relax. The wall was two feet away…one foot…half a foot…
The bus passed right through the wall as if it wasn't there. Gray late afternoon sunshine poured through the bus windows and fell on confused faces.
"That was…weird," remarked Pip.
"Y’think?" said R.K. sarcastically.
Mr. Big's voice came over the intercom again. "Is everyone buckled up?"
"Yes!" they all chorused.
"Then grab the person beside you and HOLD ON TIGHT!" Jo and Rose clung giggling to each other as Sybil and Christina hugged tight. Jules and Mark grabbed the seats in front of them because they was sitting alone. R.K. put a protective arm around his SAE. There was a loud creaking moan, and the bus lunged forward. Everyone felt as if they’d left their bodies behind.
Jules looked out the window and realized that the bus was going at speeds he thought impossible for a bus of that size. "And we are off!" Mr. Big's booming voice came over the intercom.
"We're FLYING?!?!" Mark called out loudly to be heard over the swish of the air. R.K. looked disgusted. “A flying bus? What is this, a kid’s cartoon?” Pip laughed and shrugged his arm off her shoulders.
"Nope, it’s called the next best thing," came Mr. Big's voice again. "Just sit back and relax. In the extremely likely event of an emergency, let me assure you I cannot do CPR or any other kind of First Aid. And also, refrain from smoking, as we have no extinguisher on board. No liquid beverages and/or iPods."
This made everybody gulp. Christina laughed delightedly and R.K. wrapped his arms around Pip and refused to let go.
Mr. Big laughed. "Just kidding. Thank you for choosing Mr. White’s Very Fast Bus Service!"
The bus raced along the quiet streets of Dale. It was evening and most people were having supper in their homes, but a businessman walking briskly on the sidewalk with a cell phone stopped short and stared after them, and a lady with a long pink dress walking a fluffy poodle got her leash tangled up. Meggy stared back after them and said “MUAHAHAHAHA!” The flickering lights mesmerized Jules and he lazily wondered whether their characters would be able to find them at White’s house.
Finally, as the foggy mountains loomed up and the streetlamps of Dale were far behind them, Magog Big's voice announced: "We're about to stop!"
Everyone sat up straight and waited excitedly. There was a jolt, and if they had been buckled, everyone would have been on the floor. Mark groaned and felt carsick. Sybil laughed shakily.
"I think…that means…we're here,” Pip breathed. Her wild curly hair was even crazier but Jules fought back the urge to laugh because R.K. had turned to stare at him.
Everyone unbuckled and went down the metal bus stairway. The cold winter air slapped them in the face as they pervaded a dark lawn. Peering ahead, they saw a large house that looked as if it was built in the 1700's. Jules counted five rows of windows peeking out of a thick growth of ivy that covered the entire front, indicating five floors. But the thing everyone noticed was the feeling in the air. Jules couldn't tell exactly what it was, but the best way to describe it was that this place was Alive.
"Where are the Elves and Nymphs?" asked Rose, looking around.
"Never fear, you will be able to meet everyone in time." answered Mr. Big "Lately things have been happening that prevents decent characters from wandering about the manor…more about that later. Why don't we go inside now?"
The shivering Inklings needed no further prodding, and they followed their little guide up the stone steps. Jo reached down and stroked the freezing rock; it was perhaps the oldest thing she’d ever touched. Magog Big halted at two huge oaken doors. He snapped and they opened of their own will with a echoing moan. The foyer was lit by a large chandelier, and in front of them was spiral red carpeted staircase. Mr. Big led them up. Meggy felt a thrill ran through her as the sound of their tennis shoes padded on the thick red carpet. Sybil loved the polished vine railing and let her hand trail along it as Magog Big came to the top of the spiraling stairway.
"Wow!" exclaimed Mark, while the others fell silent in wonder, "an entire room made of GLASS!" His voice sounded obscenely loud in the glittering room and Rose felt nervous.
It took a minute to take it all in. The walls were made of glass, the ceiling was made of glass, the table, the chairs, the candlesticks…everything was made out of clear, frosty glass.
"Incredible, isn't it?" came a rich deep voice.
The authors turned and saw a tall thin man with a shock of white unruly hair emerge from a shadow. On his shoulder sat a raven with a with cloth tied around his wing. The man was wearing a black coat with two long coattails flowing behind him.
"It is," said Meggy slowly, "but aren't you afraid it might break?"
"If I thought it would break, dear girl," answered the man, "I wouldn't have built it, now would I?"
There was a moment of silence. "So you're Mr. White?" asked Jules.
"Yes, and you're the Inklings, I gather," he said smiling.
“Some of us,“ clarified Jo. “More will be along as we decide what to do.” There was a crash from a distant room, and a resounding thud from the floor above. "Oh, dear," murmured Nevermore the raven, "they're at it again." His voice was bristly and conniving, but not unkind.
"Business must wait till tomorrow, I'm afraid," said Mr. White. “In the meantime, it is necessary to get a lot of sleep.” He turned and called down the stairway, "Mr. Small?"
A huge man appeared at the top of the spiral staircase. "Yes, sir?"
"Show these young people to their rooms. Have a few sleep with each other, I’m afraid my house isn’t safe for sleeping alone anymore.” He smiled at his guests and melted back into the shadows.
The towering bulk of a man called Mr. Small led the Inklings to a corridor of rooms at the far end of the Glass Room. The girls all settled into one room and carefully pawed through glass chests of cotton nightclothes. Sybil got out her laptop, which she’d been carrying along, and opened the chocolate box. Sarah, true to her word, was there.
“Thank you for staying there,“ typed Sybil. A few seconds later Sarah typed back, “Hey, you told me to keep the chocolate box running, that’s what I’m doing!” Sybil grinned. “Have you alerted the members’ parents as to why we’re not home and what we’re doing?” A minute passed before Sarah answered “It was hard, but they’re alright with it. I think they are under the impression that we’re just playing at a sleepover.” Rose came over, wearing blue socks and a grin. “Hi, Sarah!” she typed. “Thank you for keeping guard.” Sybil sighed and typed the question that had been taunting her all evening. “Has Mari, Gabrielle or Katie been found?” Sarah typed *sigh* and said “No. No word of any of them. Hanz and the girls are still out looking.” Christina rubbed Sybil’s shoulder as tears pricked at Jo’s eyes. “How could this happen?” she thought. Pip scratched her head. “Where did my SAE go?” The girls looked around, but R.K. was gone. Pip went out into the cold dark hallway, shivering in her pants and t-shirt. It looked ghostly as moonlight streamed in through the balcony windows. She tapped on the door across from them. Mark answered it. "Is R.K. in there with you?" Pip asked. Mark shook his head. “Nope. Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll show up. You girls rest well.” He turned away and sat down beside his older brother. “Makes me nervous, having that madman prowling around.” Jules laughed and scratched his head with his pen. 
“This is weird, having only a few of the Inklings together at one time,” Mark said. Jules nodded and tapped his pen against the blank page. “Arggh,” he grunted, “I can’t think of anything to write. Sorrin, Jason, where are you?”

Sybil’s fingers lingered over her laptop. She, Rose, Jo and Meggy had already said goodnight to Sarah, and had given further instructions. Ian and Laura had come over to her house earlier that afternoon, with Cherise and a new girl named Syd, so Sarah was keeping them busy looking around Katie’s house and along alleyways. They would spend the night together and report to Sybil over the chocolate box in the morning. Now Sybil was attempting to write something, but Maddock was apparently mad at her. She couldn’t think of a thing to say. Jo and Meggy were having the same problem. “You’re lucky,” Pip commented, looking under the bed. “At least your characters aren’t a part of you as well.” She got up and glared at the glass walls. “I hope nothing hurts R.K., I’m plumb worn out.” The girls sighed and, with a last jab at writing something, flicked off the lamp and crawled into the warm flannel sheets. The moon rose and cast its rays over sleeping faces. In the other room Jules tossed and turned, worried inwardly over something he didn’t understand. They were in White’s house, why couldn’t he be at ease? Every so often a crash and a shout came from a far room. Mark slept fitfully, snoring loudly and driving Jules crazy.
Pip lied under her covers for several hours. The moonbeams seemed to pierce into her thoughts and she gave up trying to sleep. R.K. never just disappeared without a word. She finally pulled on her green jacket and tiptoed out into the hallway. The moonlight glistened in the frosted glass like tears and the red carpet on the stairway looked like blood. She grinned as she heard Mark snoring and walked silently along the corridor to the balcony. Opening the latch, Pip shivered as the wind bit right through her t-shirt. Snow had begun whirling in the midnight air and pine trees jutted tall and dark on Mr. White’s lawn. Pip leaned over the balcony railing and searched the shadowy grounds for her Semi-Alter-Ego, but his long black cloak was nowhere to be seen. She was about to go back inside and look downstairs when a big rough hand grabbed her jacket and pulled her into a strangling hold.

In the boys’ room Jules had finally drifted into oblivion and silence reined.
It didn't last for long. Jules was awakened by the sound of frightened yelling. He bolted out of bed and turned on the light. There was Mark, bound and gagged, hanging from the ceiling by a rope tied around his ankles. There was a piece of paper taped to his shirt that bore one word in sweeping, spidery lettering:
"LEAVE!"