The Key (The Magnificent 12 3)

And they saw it, too.

Not all the tourists did. But some did. At least half of those standing there were looking up with their jaws down and their eyes wide and their cameras forgotten for a moment.

“What are you all staring at?” others demanded, frustrated.

One of the bus drivers said, “I’ve lived here all my life: I’ve never seen this. It’s … it’s impossible.”

“No, not impossible,” Dietmar announced somewhat grandly. “It is the castle of William Blisterthöng MacGuffin, long concealed by fairy magic.”

The crowd continued the jaws-hanging, eyes-wide thing, but now some were pointing their cameras and others were moving toward the castle.

A scream pierced the air.

A cannonball flew from the castle’s highest tower.

The cannonball was writhing and yelling.

Xiao, Jarrah, and Dietmar all saw it at the same instant.

Stefan cried out in anguished recognition.

No chance to use Vargran! The three Magnifica had used up their enlightened puissance revealing the castle.

“Noooo!” Xiao cried.

Mack flew in a long, flat arc straight toward the unyielding stone walls of Urquhart Castle.

“Halk-ma simu (ch)ias!”

The Vargran spell rang out clear and loud.

And it came from the goth girl, who stood legs apart, both hands together, and pointing with her clenched fist, like she was aiming a gun or something, as Mack flew overhead.

* * *

Eleven

* * *

What do you think about in the seconds before death?

Have you ever considered that? You’re probably considering it right now.

In Mack’s case he was thinking about his life. Which, prior to Grimluk suddenly informing him of his importance in an age-old struggle between good and evil, had been pretty boring.

And Mack was thinking about how great boring is. Boring is excellent, compared to dying.

In those last seconds he was thinking about his mom. And screaming. And his dad. And screaming.

And he was feeling guilty because now the world would not be saved and the Pale Queen would enslave all of humanity. She would probably outlaw video games and movies and fro-yo and Toaster Strudel and all the truly good things in the world.

And then there was the screaming.

And suddenly Mack heard a voice, audible even over the shriek of the wind whipping past.

He didn’t think he recognized the voice. Then again, it’s sometimes hard to recognize voices when you’re screaming and hurtling to your death.

“Halk-ma simu (ch)ias!”