escape?” she asked loudly as the witch revved the engine, trying to catch up with the Cybernetic Cyclops.
“We do not know much about Thomas,” replied Miss Broomble. “We know that he has a beginning and an end, because all things have one of each – sometimes two. But no one really knows whether Thomas à Tempus was born in the past or in the present or in the future. We know only that, at this time and place, he is Mostly Dead.”
“How does Thomas à Tempus time-travel?” Key asked. “With the Eye of DIOS?”
“It’s more like time-cavorting —” Miss Broomble had begun to respond when she suddenly banked the MotorHog hard. A group of unruly, teenage gremlins had come speeding by on Mechacopters – which looked like helicopters, except made from any junk a gremlin might happen to find. As these teenage gremlins sped by, they called out cruel names to Key and Miss Broomble, laughing and making rude gestures, too. Next the gremlins started throwing all sorts of things at the MotorHog, like fireworks and food and lady fingers (and not the biscuit either). In response, Miss Broomble pressed a button on the steering column. A burst of purple light shot out from the front of the MotorHog. The light hit the teenage gremlins and formed into a cloud. The cloud then solidified into a mass of ice, which now hurtled through the Necropolis like a meteor. Inside, the frozen gremlins looked confused and concerned as they began plummeting down to Nethermare Street, where there were several shops for Mostly Dead Mystical Creatures, one being Faridoon’s Fright Night Firewood, which would chop up anything, including teenage gremlins.
Looking ahead, Key observed now that Silas was much farther along. She had no idea how they would catch up with him. Miss Broomble saw this, too, and she called back to Key, “Hold on,” as she pulled a lever on the dashboard and pressed another button on the steering column. Streams of fire shot out through the smokestacks behind them. The MotorHog was suddenly flung through the air like a missile speeding towards the Cybernetic Cyclops.
“To answer your question,” Miss Broomble shouted, as if this were all perfectly normal while Key was hanging on for dear life, “yes,” the witch went on, “Thomas à Tempus travels through time by the Eye of DIOS. That’s why the Eye is kept at the Grave of the Grim Goblin, far from Thomas’s Tomb. We do not want him to escape again, nor for anyone else to turn into a time-traveling paradox like him.”
“Except me,” said Key.
“Yes,” said Miss Broomble, concern in her voice. “How you became a paradox is still a paradox.”
Key had only begun to ask, “How will the Queen escape using the Eye at the Tower Tomb —” when suddenly the MotorHog’s thrust gave out with a sputter.
The engine stopped working. A dreadful silence surrounded them, and then Key could only hear the rush of air fill her ears as she and Miss Broomble plummeted straight down to the Necropolis streets. She held on tighter to Miss Broomble while the witch pressed a few buttons and rewired circuitry. With every second they plunged nearer and nearer to the streets below. A tourist ghoul from the Darkling District with a cadaver camera slung around his neck snapped a photograph of them for the Welkin City News. Zombie students from Cobweb Academy led by a distinguished-looking sorceress in a tall hat looked up together, saw the MotorHog nose-diving straight towards them, screamed wildly, then scattered, their hands flailing in the air. Mostly Dead bystanders wearing sunglasses and flip-flops saw them and panicked, too. Others started carrying placards that read: THE END IS NEAR – AGAIN. Soon complete pandemonium began breaking out all over the place.
Key feared that she and Miss Broomble were certainly done for this time. But right at the last second, when the witch had done all she could to rewire the MotorHog, she held her hand over the damaged circuitry and
Legs McNeil, Jennifer Osborne, Peter Pavia