you, Michael Butler, and demand to see you.”
He zooms up through the gloom. Races toward the light.
He sees the new necromancer. Faintly. Dimly. As if he were looking at the man through a gauzy veil.
“You will find me to be a stern but benevolent master, Mr. Butler!” the sorcerer declares. “You may remain in this realm until four a.m. Then you must return below and await further instructions! Do you understand?”
He nods.
“Excellent!” the new master decrees. “Soon I will send you out to do my bidding!”
Fascinating.
Maybe this new necromancer intends to give him back his body.
Maybe this time he will be fully restored to life.
Maybe he will once again be able to do all the things he used to do!
Maybe he will be able to kill again.
46
Judy and Zack sat with Meghan and her mother at a diner table with chrome legs and a speckled top.
“You’re Meghan McKenna!” said a fan about thirteen years old, trembling near their table, flapping a napkin and a pen.
Meghan smiled. “Hi. Would you like an autograph?”
“Yes! Ohmigoodness!” The fan had just recognized Judy, too. “You’re Judy Magruder! I’ve read all your books!”
Judy’s turn to smile. “Do you have another napkin?”
“Here,” said Mrs. McKenna. “You can use mine. No body ever asks for the mother’s autograph.”
“Or the stepson’s,” said Zack.
“Guess we’re just not very interesting, hunh?”
“True. But we do get to eat first!”
After Judy had signed about a dozen napkins (to Meghan’s fifty), she watched Zack and Meghan devour their late lunch, made even later by the flurry of fans that descended on their table once word hit the street that Meghan McKenna was “inside eating!” Both kids wolfed down hamburgers and french fries from tissue-lined baskets and sucked hard on extraordinarily thick chocolate milk shakes. The talented young movie star had quite an appetite; Judy was confident she wasn’t a ghost.
“So,” Judy said to Mrs. McKenna, “is this your first trip to Connecticut?”
“No. Meghan did a movie here once. Something about a horse.”
“Fredericka the Faithful Filly,” said Meghan.
“Don’t talk with you mouth full of food, honey.”
“Sorry.”
“Your daughter’s a terrific actress,” said Judy. “I wasn’t surprised when she was nominated for an Oscar.”
Mrs. McKenna shrugged. “She’s having fun. As soon as it isn’t fun …”
“We’re done!” said Meghan, dabbing at her lips with a napkin.
“Meghan has a gift,” said Mrs. McKenna. “However, I refuse to become a stage mother, making my kid miserable by dragging her off to auditions when she’d rather be home playing soccer in the mud. I will not live vicariously through my daughter’s triumphs.”
“What’s ‘vicariously’?” asked Zack.
Meghan raised her hand and answered: “Vicariously: Experienced through another person, rather than firsthand.”
“Very good,” said Mrs. McKenna. “I’m glad to see you studied your vocabulary words. However, we still have math homework to do tonight. Science, too.”
“Yes, Mom.”
“You’re Meghan’s teacher?” asked Judy.
“When she’s on the road, which it seems like we have been for over a year. Before my daughter became an actress, I taught middle school. My husband still does.”
“You still teach, too, Mom,” said Meghan.
“Yes, but only one student in a one-room school-house,” Mrs. McKenna said warmly. “Typically a hotel room or trailer near a movie set. I have my master’s degree in history.”
“I’m impressed,” said Judy.
“Don’t be. It’s why we almost didn’t do your show.”
Now she was confused. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” said Mrs. McKenna hesitantly, “let’s just say the Hanging Hill Playhouse does not have a very good history when it comes to productions featuring children.”
“Really?”
“The Music Man was the last show they did with any children in the cast and it closed after two
He zooms up through the gloom. Races toward the light.
He sees the new necromancer. Faintly. Dimly. As if he were looking at the man through a gauzy veil.
“You will find me to be a stern but benevolent master, Mr. Butler!” the sorcerer declares. “You may remain in this realm until four a.m. Then you must return below and await further instructions! Do you understand?”
He nods.
“Excellent!” the new master decrees. “Soon I will send you out to do my bidding!”
Fascinating.
Maybe this new necromancer intends to give him back his body.
Maybe this time he will be fully restored to life.
Maybe he will once again be able to do all the things he used to do!
Maybe he will be able to kill again.
46
Judy and Zack sat with Meghan and her mother at a diner table with chrome legs and a speckled top.
“You’re Meghan McKenna!” said a fan about thirteen years old, trembling near their table, flapping a napkin and a pen.
Meghan smiled. “Hi. Would you like an autograph?”
“Yes! Ohmigoodness!” The fan had just recognized Judy, too. “You’re Judy Magruder! I’ve read all your books!”
Judy’s turn to smile. “Do you have another napkin?”
“Here,” said Mrs. McKenna. “You can use mine. No body ever asks for the mother’s autograph.”
“Or the stepson’s,” said Zack.
“Guess we’re just not very interesting, hunh?”
“True. But we do get to eat first!”
After Judy had signed about a dozen napkins (to Meghan’s fifty), she watched Zack and Meghan devour their late lunch, made even later by the flurry of fans that descended on their table once word hit the street that Meghan McKenna was “inside eating!” Both kids wolfed down hamburgers and french fries from tissue-lined baskets and sucked hard on extraordinarily thick chocolate milk shakes. The talented young movie star had quite an appetite; Judy was confident she wasn’t a ghost.
“So,” Judy said to Mrs. McKenna, “is this your first trip to Connecticut?”
“No. Meghan did a movie here once. Something about a horse.”
“Fredericka the Faithful Filly,” said Meghan.
“Don’t talk with you mouth full of food, honey.”
“Sorry.”
“Your daughter’s a terrific actress,” said Judy. “I wasn’t surprised when she was nominated for an Oscar.”
Mrs. McKenna shrugged. “She’s having fun. As soon as it isn’t fun …”
“We’re done!” said Meghan, dabbing at her lips with a napkin.
“Meghan has a gift,” said Mrs. McKenna. “However, I refuse to become a stage mother, making my kid miserable by dragging her off to auditions when she’d rather be home playing soccer in the mud. I will not live vicariously through my daughter’s triumphs.”
“What’s ‘vicariously’?” asked Zack.
Meghan raised her hand and answered: “Vicariously: Experienced through another person, rather than firsthand.”
“Very good,” said Mrs. McKenna. “I’m glad to see you studied your vocabulary words. However, we still have math homework to do tonight. Science, too.”
“Yes, Mom.”
“You’re Meghan’s teacher?” asked Judy.
“When she’s on the road, which it seems like we have been for over a year. Before my daughter became an actress, I taught middle school. My husband still does.”
“You still teach, too, Mom,” said Meghan.
“Yes, but only one student in a one-room school-house,” Mrs. McKenna said warmly. “Typically a hotel room or trailer near a movie set. I have my master’s degree in history.”
“I’m impressed,” said Judy.
“Don’t be. It’s why we almost didn’t do your show.”
Now she was confused. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” said Mrs. McKenna hesitantly, “let’s just say the Hanging Hill Playhouse does not have a very good history when it comes to productions featuring children.”
“Really?”
“The Music Man was the last show they did with any children in the cast and it closed after two
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