She reached into her pocket and very carefully took the plain key she had stolen from the box in the snow leopard room. She scratched a little at the greenish color with her fingernail and saw, engraved in small writing on its side, the number 707. She placed it back in her pocket.
In the left corridor she moved as noiselessly as she could, her heart beating in her ears. She took the superglue and unscrewed the top, and at door number 701 she inserted the nozzle in the keyhole and squeezed. She was careful with the drops. She moved to number 702 and then number 703, squeezing in the clear liquid.
When her breathing slowed and her heartbeat quieted, she could hear again. There were soft sighing sounds coming from behind the doors. She tried not to think of them. She tried not to think of the other rustlings that had now become apparent. She tried not to think of the very strong feathery smell. She glued up the locks of 704 through 714, skipping number 707. She glued up the locks of 715 through 721. She heard the clank of the elevator doors closing and the elevator going away to another floor.
Which meant that someone had called it.
Which made her freeze, with the superglue in her hands.
Maybe someone had called it and they were going to another floor, she thought. She turned the corner, where theremaining doors were, and also the little white cupboard, from which she had stolen the first key. She quickly glued up locks 722 to 730. Then she did the same for 731, 732, 733, and 734.
She was back in the first corridor when she heard the whir of the elevator motor. The elevator was returning. She wished suddenly, more than anything, that she had never met the boy behind the door—it didn’t matter how interesting or exciting he was, it didn’t matter that he had been given lessons by wizards, which she shouldn’t really believe in, or that he had been given a blessing by a great magical owl. She took the two steps she needed as the elevator doors began to open, fumbled with the key to 707, inserted and turned it. Then she stepped inside and closed the door softly behind her.
The misery bird was five times her size and hanging upside down, fast asleep. She dared not breathe. It was just as the boy had said, the ugliest, most horrible thing she had ever seen. The bird had the head of a fierce eagle, tucked tenderly into the snow-white plumage of its chest. It had the black leathery wings of a giant bat, folded neatly at its sides. Its terrifying talons gripped a bar that ran across the ceiling. Each time it exhaled slowly, the wind from its silvery beak ruffled Ophelia’s hair.
Ophelia could not take her eyes from it.
It’s a monster. It’s a monster. It’s a monster, her head said.
The bird monster slept.
She heard footsteps in the corridor. The sound of high heels clipping on the marble. Ophelia was suddenly so cold that shecould not stop herself from trembling, and her teeth began to rattle in her mouth. It must be the Queen. A phone rang. The footsteps stopped suddenly, and Ophelia heard someone sigh.
“What?” a woman’s voice said. “Can you handle nothing alone? Must I do everything?”
The footsteps receded.
It must have been the Queen. Did Snow Queens use phones? It must have been.
Ophelia stood before the misery bird, trying to think of what to do. She heard the elevator doors open and shut and the elevator clank away to a lower floor. Everything would be all right. She would find the key. There in the corner of the room was a golden box. Only that golden box could contain the golden key that would work in the golden keyhole. She would open that box and take out the key. She would open the door and then glue it shut. She’d go to the elevator and press down and tell the boy that she couldn’t possibly help anymore. Yes, that was exactly what she’d do. She took one step toward the box, as quietly as she could.
The misery bird opened its wings.
The misery bird’s wings opened so suddenly and
In the left corridor she moved as noiselessly as she could, her heart beating in her ears. She took the superglue and unscrewed the top, and at door number 701 she inserted the nozzle in the keyhole and squeezed. She was careful with the drops. She moved to number 702 and then number 703, squeezing in the clear liquid.
When her breathing slowed and her heartbeat quieted, she could hear again. There were soft sighing sounds coming from behind the doors. She tried not to think of them. She tried not to think of the other rustlings that had now become apparent. She tried not to think of the very strong feathery smell. She glued up the locks of 704 through 714, skipping number 707. She glued up the locks of 715 through 721. She heard the clank of the elevator doors closing and the elevator going away to another floor.
Which meant that someone had called it.
Which made her freeze, with the superglue in her hands.
Maybe someone had called it and they were going to another floor, she thought. She turned the corner, where theremaining doors were, and also the little white cupboard, from which she had stolen the first key. She quickly glued up locks 722 to 730. Then she did the same for 731, 732, 733, and 734.
She was back in the first corridor when she heard the whir of the elevator motor. The elevator was returning. She wished suddenly, more than anything, that she had never met the boy behind the door—it didn’t matter how interesting or exciting he was, it didn’t matter that he had been given lessons by wizards, which she shouldn’t really believe in, or that he had been given a blessing by a great magical owl. She took the two steps she needed as the elevator doors began to open, fumbled with the key to 707, inserted and turned it. Then she stepped inside and closed the door softly behind her.
The misery bird was five times her size and hanging upside down, fast asleep. She dared not breathe. It was just as the boy had said, the ugliest, most horrible thing she had ever seen. The bird had the head of a fierce eagle, tucked tenderly into the snow-white plumage of its chest. It had the black leathery wings of a giant bat, folded neatly at its sides. Its terrifying talons gripped a bar that ran across the ceiling. Each time it exhaled slowly, the wind from its silvery beak ruffled Ophelia’s hair.
Ophelia could not take her eyes from it.
It’s a monster. It’s a monster. It’s a monster, her head said.
The bird monster slept.
She heard footsteps in the corridor. The sound of high heels clipping on the marble. Ophelia was suddenly so cold that shecould not stop herself from trembling, and her teeth began to rattle in her mouth. It must be the Queen. A phone rang. The footsteps stopped suddenly, and Ophelia heard someone sigh.
“What?” a woman’s voice said. “Can you handle nothing alone? Must I do everything?”
The footsteps receded.
It must have been the Queen. Did Snow Queens use phones? It must have been.
Ophelia stood before the misery bird, trying to think of what to do. She heard the elevator doors open and shut and the elevator clank away to a lower floor. Everything would be all right. She would find the key. There in the corner of the room was a golden box. Only that golden box could contain the golden key that would work in the golden keyhole. She would open that box and take out the key. She would open the door and then glue it shut. She’d go to the elevator and press down and tell the boy that she couldn’t possibly help anymore. Yes, that was exactly what she’d do. She took one step toward the box, as quietly as she could.
The misery bird opened its wings.
The misery bird’s wings opened so suddenly and
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