CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

GHOULS

O’Toole and Malley stepped out from the darkness, using their Shillelaghs as a lantern. Abby rushed to Alexander’s side. O’Toole sidestepped gooey troll guts as they plopped from a branch. He picked up Alexander by the ear without as much as a how-do-you-do.

“You’ve wasted enough of our night with your shenanigans,” O’Toole scolded the boy. “We were worried about you. Luckily, Abby found us near the pond. She’s already filled us in on the details about the dead body and the pond squirrel.” His eyes narrowed. “The fact that a messenger rat dispersed the rodents causes me great concern.” He sighed and looked Alexander over from head to foot. “It doesn’t look like anything is broken. The bruises will heal over time. Do they hurt? That cut on your elbow could prove to be catastrophic if not taken care of immediately.”

“No,” Alexander lied.

O’Toole blinked. “That surprises me. You’re lucky. Troll injuries usually hurt to high heaven.” To Alexander’s horror, O’Toole picked a leaf oozing with troll goo and applied it to his elbow. “There’s no need to go to a hospital. An ointment from the remains of the troll that bit you is always the best medicine.”

Alexander gagged and nearly passed out as O’Toole applied the troll innards. It helped the pain dissipate and then made the wounds disappear altogether.

“Are you hungry?” Malley asked with his hands fumbling around in his pocket.

Alex rubbed his empty stomach. “A little. But I’m more tired than hungry.”

Malley gave Alex a ham and cheese sandwich and a bag of chips from his pocket, “I can help with the hunger, but the tired is out of my realm of expertise.”

“You can eat while we walk, there’s little hours left. As usual, we need to be at our destination before sunrise,” O’Toole instructed. “There is plenty of time for sleep if you should die.” He smiled, but Alexander knew he wasn’t joking.

“Where are we going this time?” Alex’s mouth was full of ham, and a sliver of lettuce hung from one corner of his lips.

O’Toole ignored the question. “There’s something evil in the park. I can feel it.” He sniffed the surrounding air. “We need a little less talking, and a lot more walking.”

                                                                 

A bone-chilling wail came from inside the park, followed by an arctic wind.

“I suggest we leave at once,” Malley said hastily, shoving chocolate malt back into his pocket.

The air grew colder. They could see their breath. It felt as if the dead of winter arrived recharged and dead-set on another round of “freeze-the-human” game.

Abby didn’t need any more coaxing. She sprinted to the nearest exit as fast as her freezing, shivering, bare knees would carry her. O’Toole, Malley, and Alex watched her run away, instead of following her.

The apparitions didn’t budge. They just shimmered and wailed.

“What was that? I don’t want to stand around long enough to find out,” Malley whispered, sprinting after Abby as fast as his stubby legs would allow.

O’Toole drummed his fingers on his belly. “I suddenly remembered we are late for an appointment.” He was several feet away when he turned towards Alexander. “Are you coming? You’ve already caused us a considerable amount of delay.”

Alexander found his friends huddled together waiting for him on the sidewalk, warming themselves over a tiny ball of fire coming from Abby’s hands.

 “Do you have a warm coat hiding in your pocket?” Abby asked.

Malley shoved his hand deep into his magical pocket, but it came back empty. “Sorry.”

 “We should be on our way,” O’Toole ordered, a tuft of steam flowing from his mouth. The surrounding air grew frigid again. “It seems as if our woes followed the boy.” He faced Abby and placed his arms around her. “And, my dear, I believe your coldness could be the least of our worries if we stay here much longer.”

Alexander, who until recently never forgot to follow the rules, could wait no longer. He darted across the street without looking both ways. O’Toole and Malley followed Alex’s lead, leaving Abby alone on the corner.

                                                                 

 Abby waited for the light to change; she didn’t want to explain to her father why they arrested her for crossing against the light.

The apparitions halted at the edge of the grass. It was as if an unseen barrier stopped them from crossing over to the sidewalk. The obstacle, however, didn’t prevent them from taunting Abby or throwing snowballs at her. The snowballs hurt, unseen or not.

Abby was fed up when the ghouls targeted her legs with the ice-cold projectiles. The first one sent shivers up her spine. She glared at the ghosts after the second snowball hit her knees.

“Go away.” She used every magical spell she could muster, but no spell worked. The ghosts kept throwing snowballs at her.

“Dad can bail me out of jail,” Abby whispered and ran across the street, reaching her friends on the other side.

 “Don’t get caught up in the boy’s bad examples and choices.” O’Toole scolded.

Abby bit her tongue. She knew arguing with leprechauns seldom, if ever, came to a real end.

“We’re close to completing the first part of our journey,” O’Toole continued as if Abby didn’t exist.

“What would that be?” Malley quizzed O’Toole.

“You know very well,” O’Toole snapped, without missing a step. “I’ll be surprised if any of us survive the night. But the journey is young. All things are possible.”