“I’m confused,” said Daisy. “How are we going to find it here if it doesn’t even exist?”
“We are going to create it,” Walter said.
Alan stepped in for a little explanation. “A long time ago, there was a natural source where all Glop came from. When the Founding Witches left, they took the source with them, sealing it off so that no one could find them before the time was right.”
“The
Manualis Custodem
clearly states that the source must be reopened for the Witches to return,” Walter said. “And that is what we are going to do tonight.”
Spencer was deep in thought. All this time they’d been searching for a source that didn’t even exist. All the Glop in the world was being recycled by the Aurans at the landfill, but the real natural source had been closed off since the Witches’ departure.
“How do we open the source?” Penny asked.
“The return of the Witches is based on a Glop formula,” Walter said. “Every time a warlock Glopifies something, he must experiment with a formula. It usually starts with a cup of raw Glop, mixed together with a myriad of strange ingredients until we reach the desired result.”
“Like a good old-fashioned witch’s brew,” Bernard said.
Walter nodded. “Then the Glop formula is applied to the specific cleaning supply, and the magic takes effect.”
“What do we have to Glopify for the source to open?” Spencer asked.
“This time it’s a little different,” Walter said. “Instead of depending on the warlocks to experiment with a formula, the Founding Witches left the exact recipe in the
Manualis Custodem.
”
He thumbed through the pages of the translated binder until he found the recipe.
To Reopen the Source of All Glop
Fountain of pure water
Cup of raw Glop
Tail of Grime
Quill of Filth
Wing of Rubbish
Ash of the School Board
Keys of a warlock
Spit of an Auran
“As you can see,” Walter said, “we have all the ingredients we need right here at Welcher Elementary.”
Spencer took a deep breath as he saw his part in this. For someone who hated spitting, he sure had to do it a lot to save the world.
“Fountain of pure water?” Marv asked.
“Anciently, the Witches probably would have used a well or a spring,” Walter said. “But this is the twenty-first century. We’re going to use a drinking fountain.”
“We’re going to turn a drinking fountain into the source of all Glop?” Daisy asked.
Walter nodded. “There’s one in the hallway just outside this classroom. It ought to work nicely.”
“But we can’t ruin a drinking fountain,” Daisy protested. “What if someone gets thirsty?”
“Which would you rather have,” Bernard said, “a few mildly dehydrated students, or the end of the world?”
“I guess they can use water bottles,” Daisy said.
“What happens after we reopen the source?” Penny asked.
“That’s why we needed the hammers,” Alan said. “The
Manualis
says that the Witches used the hammers to lock their souls away. Whoever was holding the hammer received some of the powers and abilities of the Witches. That’s why warlocks can handle the Glop and come up with successful formulas. But the Founding Witches can’t return while their souls are tied to the hammers. To release the Witches, we have to drop the hammers into the Glop source.”
“What about the nails?” Spencer asked. “If the Witches’ souls are tied only to the hammers, then why did we need the bronze nails?”
“Holding a bronze hammer gave me abilities and inspiration,” Walter said, “but I needed a nail to have the real power. This was also true of the Witches. They were indeed gifted women, but their true power rested in their wands.”
“So the three bronze nails are just representations of the Witches’ magic wands?” Penny asked.
“Precisely,” said Walter. “Toss the hammers into the source, and the Witches return. Toss the nails into the source, and the Witches receive their wands of power once more.”
“Wands of power,” Bernard said. “I like the sound of that! The BEM won’t stand a chance.”
Chapter 51
“Leave?”
Nearly an hour had passed by the time everyone gathered around the drinking fountain in the hallway outside Mrs. Natcher’s room.
There were many ingredients needed for the Glop formula that would bring back the Witches, and everyone arrived with his or her specific assignment fulfilled.
Walter had taken Ninfa and extracted the bronze nail from its hiding place in Welcher. As a result, his domain momentarily collapsed, preventing him from using raw Glop. Since he would need that ability to reopen the source, Walter pounded the nail in a new spot: right beside the drinking fountain, next to a large hallway mirror.
With his domain quickly reestablished, Walter next needed some raw Glop. The Aurans were tasked with keeping all the warlocks stocked with the magical substance, and Walter had received an anonymous delivery from one of the girls just last week.
Daisy and Dez had gone back to the Gateses’ home, where Big Bertha was still parked. Spencer would have been worried about the two of them, but of course Bookworm went with them, encouraging Dez to be his best self so the Thingamajunk didn’t rip his wings off. They had retrieved Holga and the nail from the glove compartment and returned to the school without any trouble.
Spencer and his dad went out to the school parking lot. Walter had given them the keys to his janitorial van with instructions on how to peel up the floor mat and find the School Board he’d been hiding.
Marv, Penny, and Bernard were the last to return to the drinking fountain. They had prowled the school, hunting a Rubbish, a Filth, and a Grime. It was tricky, since they needed to bring them back alive in order to use the proper parts of the Toxites. Marv carried the three trapped creatures in an Agitation Bucket. It was probably the most secure method of keeping Toxites trapped, but the side effect of the bucket caused the captive monsters to feel relocated and grow angry.
Penny released a shot of vanilla air freshener to counteract the Toxite breath for Spencer and Daisy. Then it grew quiet, and Walter exchanged a heavy look with Alan. Spencer’s dad nodded and turned to the others.
“All right,” Alan said. “Thank you all for your contributions. Unfortunately, before the source can be reopened, we have to leave.”
“Leave?” Daisy said. “Then who’s going to mix all the ingredients into the drinking fountain?”
“The instructions in the
Manualis Custodem
are very clear about this,” Alan said. “Only two people can be present when the source reopens: a warlock,” then his gaze shifted to Spencer, “and an Auran.”
“What?” Dez moaned. “No fair! Why does Spencer get to stay?”
“The formula needs his spit,” Alan explained.
“I can spit too, you know,” said Dez. To prove his point, he spat on the floor.
Dez wasn’t the only one who didn’t seem keen on leaving. Penny was silently pouting, and Bernard was scratching his head, a look of disappointment on his face.
“Don’t like this, boss,” Marv said. “What if the BEM finds you before you can get the formula together?”
“You don’t have to go far,” Walter said to the Rebels. “You can stand guard around the school. Marv’s right: Mr. Clean and his Sweepers could be on to us soon.”
“Nobody’ll get past us,” Marv said.
“Yeah,” Dez agreed. “If anybody shows up, I’ll just burp dust at them.”
Marv set the Agitation Bucket at his boss’s feet and gave a quick nod of his shaggy head. “I’ll cover the south doors and around the outside by the cafeteria.”
Alan passed the School Board to Spencer. It was the first time he’d touched the ancient piece of wood since he had used Ninfa to pound the nail that had transformed him into an Auran.
Spencer turned the Board over in his hands to find the clumsy etching that Marv had made in an attempt to disguise the wood as part of Spencer’s desk.
Mrs. N smells like cabbige
Spencer smiled. Marv wasn’t great at spelling.
Daisy handed Holga and the nail to Walter. She patted Spencer on the arm as she passed by, Bookworm close behind. “Good luck,” she said.
“Don’t mess up the formula, Doofus,” Dez said to Spencer.
Spencer didn’t say anything. He watched his dad and friends disappear down the darkened hallway until only he and Walter Jamison remained. The old warlock put a steady hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“Ready to make history?” Walter asked.
Chapter 52
“This is final, Spencer.”
Walter laid the translated binder on the floor beside the drinking fountain. It was open to the page with the Glop recipe, and Spencer quickly read over the ingredients to make sure they had everything.
Fountain of pure water
Walter pressed the button on the drinking fountain, and a crystal stream of water flowed out of the spigot. It was a far cry from the natural spring that the Witches would be expecting, but Walter seemed to think it would work just fine.
On instruction from Walter, Spencer tore off a little piece of duct tape and pasted it over the button so the drinking fountain continued to shoot a stream of water even though neither of them was holding it. Spencer turned back to the list in the binder.
Cup of raw Glop
Walter had to handle this one, since only warlocks were authorized to touch Glop without consequences. The old warlock had a dented coffee can half full of gurgling, sludgelike Glop. Not long ago, Spencer had sailed across an entire lagoon of the magical stuff. Now it was hard to be impressed by a half-empty can.
Walter took a plastic cup and dipped into the substance. Spencer crinkled his nose at the sulfuric smell. The warlock lifted the dripping cup to the fountain and dribbled the contents into the streaming water.
It hissed and threw a plume of vapor as Glop met water. Then the grayish sludge oozed down until it plugged the drain, causing the fresh water to swirl back in little eddies.
“This is where it gets ugly,” Walter said, pointing back to the ingredient list.
Tail of Grime
“Have you ever tried to hold one of these slippery monsters?” Walter asked, peering into the Agitation Bucket.
Spencer had, on several occasions through his Toxite-fighting adventures. It wasn’t easy. Grimes were designed to slip through tight situations.
“Would you rather hold it,” Walter asked, “or cut off its tail?”
The second option sounded repulsive. “I’ll hold it,” Spencer said. He pulled on a latex glove to protect his hand against the acidic fingertips of the Grime. He looked into the bucket and waited until the Grime was holding still, clinging to the plastic side.
Spencer thrust his hand inside, gripping the little creature around the middle and jerking it from the Agitation Bucket. It wriggled wildly in his grasp. Spencer felt himself losing control as Walter stepped forward, razorblade extended.
The Grime’s wide mouth clamped down on Spencer’s thumb, jagged teeth biting through the thin glove. He grunted in pain, letting up just enough that the Grime slithered free. But as it leapt to the floor, Spencer’s left hand came around, snatching the monster from its flight and pinning it against the wall. He felt the burn of venom on his gloveless hand, but he held tight.
Walter seized the tip of its slippery tail and made a deft slice with his razorblade. In Spencer’s hand, the Grime exploded in a spattering of yellow slime. But Walter quickly tossed the twitching tail into the drinking fountain.
Spencer held out his dripping hand, trying not to think about the Grime germs that had just exploded between his fingers. He wiped the residue on the leg of his jeans.
“This next one shouldn’t be so bad,” Walter said, “though you’ll probably want an extra shot of air freshener.”
Quill of Filth
Spencer pulled out his aerosol can of vanilla air freshener and sprayed a stream into the air above the Agitation Bucket. He couldn’t afford any sleepiness with a task like this.
The Agitated Filth was nearly impossible to pick up. Every time Spencer reached into the bucket, the little beast would flare its sharp quills like a scared porcupine. After a few failed attempts, Spencer changed his strategy.
He drew a plunger from his belt and, turning it over, pressed the wooden handle into the bucket. Spencer prodded the Filth, increasing its anger until finally it snapped its buckteeth into the handle. As soon as the dusty Toxite had a firm bite, Spencer pulled the plunger handle from the bucket, lifting the Filth with it.
Walter reached out, pinching a long gray quill between two fingers. He plucked the sharp spike from the Filth’s back just as the creature released its bite on the plunger handle. It dropped to its clawed feet and scurried off down the hallway.
Walter lifted the Filth’s quill triumphantly, nodding his approval to Spencer before dropping the spike into the drinking fountain.
“One more Toxite part,” Spencer said, checking the list of ingredients in the binder.
Wing of Rubbish
Spencer had learned his lesson with the Grime. If he reached into the bucket for the Rubbish, he was likely to end up with another bloody finger. Instead, Spencer drew a pinch of vacuum dust from his belt and kicked over the Agitation Bucket.
The angry Rubbish took flight, winging around and diving toward Walter’s exposed head. The warlock stepped back as Spencer threw a Palm Blast, dropping the little Toxite to the floor with vacuum suction.
Walter bent over the downed Rubbish. Spencer saw the razorblade slice, and when the warlock stepped back, he was holding a leathery, black Rubbish wing.
Walter stepped over to the drinking fountain and dropped it into the mixture. The concoction seemed to be at a full boil by this point. The individual ingredients had melted away in the Glop, leaving the liquid a disgusting muddy color.