Tracked by Terror

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time.”
    â€œBut he might,” said his wife.
    â€œNot,” Junius replied with a smile, “if I take away his mouth, his ears, and his eyes before I send him on his last journey. Not then, I fancy.”
    Â 
    Jarvey could not sleep that night. The Midions threw him into a small room and tossed in some blankets, but sleep was impossible. He worked at the door, but although it seemed to have no lock at all, Junius had enchanted it and it would not open. It had become only a painted illusion of a door, like part of a stage set, and not a real door at all.
    The room gave him nothing to work with, no tools for escape. It was hardly more than a closet, with shelves of shoes and hats lining three of the walls. One of those uncanny candles emitted a little feeble light. Jarvey clenched his hands. If he had his way, he thought, the evil magicians like Junius would all be banished from the pages of the Grimoire. If he ever mastered the art of magic, he could use the book for good, not evil.
    He could destroy all the chapters created by the evil magicians of the past. Then he could re-create his own world, and his parents would live there, happy and rich. And he would be the best baseball player in the world, he’d win game after game. And there would be no one, no one at all, with hateful or angry feelings, because if there were, he’d banish them forever.
    Jarvey crouched in a corner and lost himself in fantasies of magic and revenge. If only ...
    If only he could get his hands on the Grimoire.
    He took a deep breath. Zoroaster had warned him about this. The Grimoire could corrupt a Midion, could make him believe that he was only acting for the best—but the evil book would trap its user in the end. No, there had to be some other way.
    Hours passed before the door opened and Augustus kicked his shin. “Come on, you. Father wants you in the theater.” The older boy reached in, grabbed his shoulder, and hauled him to his feet.
    Jarvey hadn’t eaten in a long time, but Augustus let him pause only for a quick drink of water. He felt sweaty and dirty as Augustus prodded him down the hall and into the wings of the theater. Junius stood on a bare stage there, the sailing-ship set gone. The only piece of furniture remaining was a tall kind of desk or book stand, and on top of it lay the closed Grimoire, its reddish-brown cover gleaming dully in the stage lights.
    Jarvey heard a muted sound of low voices, and squinting against the light streaming down onto the stage, he saw a shadowy crowd in the seats: the audience. “We shall find her, you know,” Junius said casually to Jarvey. “She must be here somewhere. You could save us so much time by calling her to come out from hiding.”
    Jarvey balled his fists and stared sullenly at the floor.
    He heard Junius sigh dramatically. “No? Very well, then, it is up to the patrons of the theater.”
    He raised his voice: “My friends! We have here in our midst this young man. He has lost his dear friend, a young lady with red hair, clothed in gray and white. This will be an exciting game of theatrical hide-and-seek! My friends, you are to explore this theater and find that girl and bring her to me now!”
    The audience stirred, rising from the seats, trudging through the auditorium. Junius turned to Jarvey. “And if they do not find her in thirty minutes’ time,” he said softly and almost pleasantly, “I shall begin to maim you, my boy, very slowly, with much pain, here on the stage. Your screams of anguish will bring her out, I believe. Then we shall have our little farewell party for you two.”
    Some of the milling crowd climbed up onto the edge of the stage, while others roamed the auditorium, looking under seats, going out through the passageways, even scanning the high ceiling. Jarvey shuddered as the mindless things plodded past him, splitting into two streams, one going off into the wings on the left, the

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