Free The Maloneys' Magical Weatherbox by Nigel Quinlan Page B

Things come to an end.
    Mum was disagreeing with Dad about something. Dad was shaking his head and saying he had no choice. His hair was a mess and his eyes moved around like they were trying to see everything at once, or avoid seeing it. He looked wild.
    â€œI have to stay,” he said, getting loud again. “I have to stay here. It’s stupid, but there’s nothing else I can do. If I leave, it’s … dereliction. I would be deserting my post. If I do that, I won’t deserve to be Weatherman.”
    I thought of derelict houses with crumbling walls and broken windows all covered in ivy, and I thought of the Weatherbox with all its glass shattered and the wood rotten and eaten and the phone pulled off and the door hanging open. I filled up with panic and fear and a kind of hurt that made me want to scream out how horrible and unfair this was.
    â€œThen I’ll go,” Mum said. “I’ll do it.”
    â€œI wish you could. But if it can’t be me, then it has to be Neil in my place, speaking with my voice.”
    â€œWhat?” I said. “Me? What?”
    â€œThen I’ll take him!” Mum said, louder. “I’ll go with him!”
    â€œNo! I’m sorry, but just look at what’s happened! The danger is here! Mrs. Fitzgerald is incredibly dangerous. I can’t even conceive of how she managed to stop the Seasons. And she tried to take Liz! Hugh has completely wrecked the house—it’s a miracle nobody was hurt. No. Owen and Liz need us both, here, protecting them. Besides, Neil won’t be going alone.”
    â€œGoing where?” I asked.
    Dad looked at Mum, and then looked at me.
    â€œYou’re going to find the Shieldsmen,” he said.
    â€œI am?”
    â€œYou are.”
    â€œHe is?” Liz said. At last she stopped chanting and dancing. Her face was pale. “No,” she said. “Not that. That’s mine. I’m the Shieldsman. He’s the Weatherman. He can’t have both!”
    â€œLiz,” Dad said. “Listen—”
    â€œThat’s not right! That’s not fair! I’ll go! I’ll find them! I’ll bring them back! I will!”
    â€œNo, Liz, you can’t,” Dad said. “They answer only to the Weatherman. Or his heir.”
    â€œHim, you mean,” she said, pointing at me. “Him. Not me.”
    â€œLiz—” I began.
    â€œShut up,” she said, jumped the wall, and ran back to the house.
    â€œWell,” Mum said, “that’s done it.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with her?” I asked. “What did I do?”
    â€œYou were born first,” Mum said. “You were born a boy. And the chain of succession for the Weathermen was established by a bunch of Stone Age men.”
    I swallowed and nodded. Today was a day for ruining things. Today was a day for everything to be spoiled and wrecked and made horrible.
    â€œNow, your Dad and I are asking Mr. Wharton to drive you to Dublin, instead of your Dad. That’s a big responsibility, so he might say no. If he says yes, then you will go to the Weathermen’s Club—we have a key if there’s no one there to let you in. Look around and see if you can find a clue or a way to contact the Shieldsmen.”
    â€œThere’s not much chance,” Dad said. “There’s probably nothing there, so you need only be away for a few hours. If you find anything, call me. If it looks like there’s a real chance of finding them, then I’ll go to them and bring them back myself.”
    â€œIs that OK with you, Mr. Wharton?” Mum asked.
    Mr. Wharton shifted, rocking slightly from side to side on the wall.
    â€œSure. It’ll be fun.”
    â€œBut Dad,” I said, “what are you going to do about the Autumn? What are you going to do about her ?”
    Dad winced.
    â€œI don’t know, Neil. I’ll sit here and wait for the phone to ring—nobody