Free Spell of the Sorcerer's Skull by John Bellairs Page B

"When a friend of mine and I were pokin' around in the professor's study after he disappeared, we found this drawing that showed a letter L with a vine wrapped around it. My friend thought that it stood for L plus vine—the name Levine, I mean. But we should've read it the other way around: it's Vine-L, for Vinalhaven!"
    "Very good!" said Father Higgins, nodding approvingly. "And that also settles a question that has been banging around in my skull: I was wondering whether we ought to go to Isle au Haut, since it gets mentioned in that little ditty I sang for you. But all the signs seem to point to Vinalhaven, don't they?" Father Higgins paused. "Hmmm!" he said, grimly pounding his fist on the edge of the dresser. "What does that Finnick character have to do with it all? He must be in on this plot to do something to the professor. Is this Finnick a sorcerer? Is he in league with the devil? Did he create the jack-o'-lantern vision that you saw? And why on earth does he want the professor? What awful, ghastly, unnameable thing is going to happen to the poor man? As far as I'm concerned, there are about six hundred and fifty unanswered questions in this whole nutty business!" The priest turned suddenly to Johnny and pointed a knobby, hairy finger at him. His face had turned beet-red, and he looked very threatening and sinister. Johnny cringed. He was afraid that Father Higgins was going to yell at him or grab him by the shoulders and shake him.
    "What I want to know now, John, is this!" roared the priest. "Are you going with me to Vinalhaven to help rescue the prof? What d'ye say?"
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    CHAPTER SIX
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    Johnny was overjoyed. He wanted to yell and whoop and throw things around the room. Father Higgins had old him the thing that he wanted most in the world to tear. He was saying that they had a chance to find the professor and rescue him, and what was more, he was saying that he wanted him, John Dixon, to be his right-land man in this search. If he hadn't been such a polite and well-behaved kid, Johnny would have thrown his arms around the tall, grizzly faced priest. As it was, he list stood there looking grateful, tears streaming down is face.
    "Th-thanks, F-Father," he stammered in a voice thick nth emotion. "I... I'll help you if I can."  
    Father Higgins smiled happily. He was a pretty shrewd judge of character, and he had guessed that—underneath his timid exterior—Johnny was a courageous and resourceful kid. However, he didn't want Johnny to think that this expedition of theirs was going to be all fun and games. So he forced himself to frown and be gruff again.
    "You may not thank me when this little jaunt is over with," he rumbled. "We may find that we're up against something that we can't handle, or we may not even be able to locate the professor at all. But if people tried to do only those things that they were sure of succeeding at, this country would still be a howling wilderness. Anyway, I'm going to need help—lots of help—and I'm very glad you want to go along. Unfortunately, next weekend is the soonest I can get away. I'll have to phone the bishop's office and ask them to send out a substitute. Do you think your gramma and grampa will let you go on this trip with me?"
    "I... I guess they'll let me go," he said uncertainly.
    "I'll call up your folks and tell them that I'm taking you on a little pleasure jaunt," the priest said, and smiled wryly. "And I'm sure," he added, "that God will forgive me for fibbing a bit, if it's all in a good cause. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to be getting on over to the Tip Top restaurant for lunch. Father Frisbie of St. Luke's Episcopal is meeting me, and we're going to stuff ourselves with corned beef and cabbage and argue about religion."
    Johnny went home in a daze. It took him a day or two to get used to the idea that he was going on a rescue mission with the rector of St. Michael's church. At times the whole thing seemed unreal to