Page 27
"You like clocks, huh?" Granger asks, eyeing the extensive collection lining every wall in the living room.
Dr. Karloff nods absently, his attention fixed on the three of us as he mutters to himself. He pulls out a notebook, flips through pages, and consults a larger stack of papers before turning back to us.
"And you say you can't remember how you got to Oz?" His eyes dart between the three of us.
"The path into Screaming Woods was familiar," Nick offers.
I frown as I glance at him. None of it seemed familiar to me, though bits and pieces have been coming back like movie clips. I shake my head, reaching for wisps of memory that remain just out of reach.
Dr. Karloff continues to pace, muttering under his breath.
"Is there a way to reverse the spell?" I finally growl.
Toto gives me a reproachful look, but I don't care. I glower at the professor, waiting for his response.
Karloff turns and shakes his head. “I don’t believe there is a spell to reverse.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
He sighs. "I can only surmise that the three of you attended the Halloween party and drank the Frankenpunch, but left Screaming Woods before midnight."
"Frankenpunch?" Granger asks, looking completely lost. His memory has always been bad, but since becoming a scarecrow, I swear it’s getting worse.
“Wait.” I stare at Karloff. "Are you saying the punch turned us into monsters?"
Karloff winces. "Yes, I'm afraid that was my doing.”
We stare at him.
“In an effort to make the party a little livelier, I added what I believed was felix semper—always happy—to the punch.” He clears his throat. “Unfortunately, I picked up the wrong vial.”
“Of course you did,” Nick mutters.
Karloff has the decency to look embarrassed. “I used immanis semper instead.”
“Which means?” Toto asks.
His gaze moves from Nick to Granger, and finally to me. “Always monstrous.”
Silence.
Granger looks down at his burlap body.
“That seems like a pretty fucking important label to double-check.”
I look down at my furry arms and sharp talons. Memories flicker at the edge of my mind.
A car.
Laughter.
Costumes.
“We were coming back from a comic convention,” I say slowly.
Nick’s head snaps toward me, and the memory sharpens.
“The three of us were roommates at college. We met freshman year and bonded over our shared love of The Brother Hunters.”
