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.”