Molly Moon & the Morphing Mystery

“At least they’re nice,” Petula said, finding a white stone on the floor and picking it up to suck.

“Maybe they are, but if we get stuck inside their bodies and under their personalities, maybe they won’t know how to let us out even if they wanted to.”

“I can be a night watchdog,” Petula said, collecting some sacks together. “I can let you both sleep and then wake you up before too long passes.”

So that is exactly what they did.

The three dogs snuggled together and took it in turns to be guard—guard of the hut and a guard of time. Neither Micky nor Molly slept longer than two hours at a time. Then they’d stay awake for half an hour to ensure their control over their dog bodies before going back to sleep again. Petula was the last sentry. When a local church bell struck ten A.M., she woke Molly.

“Time to get up,” she said, nudging her on the shoulder. “You were tired. It’s ten o’clock in the morning.”

Molly yawned and stared at the sky heavy with gray rain clouds. It was cozy and warm now in the dog nest. Molly listened to the sound of Micky’s sleeping bulldog breath and thought how nice it was being snuggled up close to her brother and her friend Petula. And as Molly looked at Petula’s black face, she was struck again by how amazing it was to be beside her pet and to actually be able to talk to her.

“It’s really nice to be able to talk to you, Molly,” Petula said. “You’re just how I knew you would be.”

“I know,” Molly said with a smile. “You are just how I knew you were, too. A little bit cheeky and funny, a little bit bossy and very brave. It was really brave of you to follow us to London, Petula. You are a very good friend.”

“I had to, Molly. That’s what real friends do. They help each other out when there’s trouble.” Petula rubbed her nose in Molly’s fur. “We’ve been through a lot together, haven’t we?”

For a moment the two dogs lay close to each other, enjoying being together. Petula broke the silence.

“So,” she pondered, “all you’ve got to do now is get the book. And when you do get your paws on it, you have to turn into a human in order to read it. Then you can find out how to do the morph back to your own body.”

Molly nodded. “That’s exactly right, Petula. You’ve hit the nail on the head.”

“Or,” Petula replied, “as a dog might say, I’ve knocked the cat on the nose.”

Both dogs smiled, then Petula looked serious. “Molly, it’s going to be difficult for me to keep up with you as you follow Black and the book. But I’ll try. I can sense where you are, and I’ll be there for you whenever I can be. Remember these three barks.” Petula gave a short chirpy bark. “That barking means I’m safe. If I howl, that means I’m in trouble or that someone else is. If I bark incessantly and urgently, then that means you have to watch out.”

Molly rubbed her wet nose on Petula’s velvety black ear. “Good plan. Look, in a minute, Petula, we’ll probably change into birds—those two blackbirds on the lawn. We must get to Buckingham Palace for Black’s eleven o’clock appointment with the queen. He’ll be carrying that book around wherever he goes from now on. Magglorian will show you the way. And don’t worry, Petula, we’ll get through this, and after that we are all going to have a lovely time.”

Petula nuzzled into Molly.

“That’s what I love about you, Molly. Your optimism. You always trust that things will work out.”

“They will.” Molly said this far more surely than she felt it. But Petula felt Molly’s fear. It rose from her like electric smoke.

Twelve

Miss Hunroe was in her lavish rooms back at the museum. She sat in a white negligee and a sky blue dressing gown, having breakfast. Flipping her gold coin over and over the fingers of her left hand, she admired the table set before her. It was laid with a priceless Ming tea set of white-and-blue porcelain that she had stolen from the Victoria and Albert Museum. Her maid, Elspeth, who was dressed in a light blue uniform, had brought toast, scrambled eggs, and a dish of wild blueberries. A dark blue flute lay beside them, and Elspeth was pouring Miss Hunroe’s tea. The rhapsody of all the blues about her gave Miss Hunroe the greatest of pleasure. She reached for her cup. As she did so, a crack of lightning lit up the gray morning sky outside, giving Elspeth a shock. Her arm jolted, and the tea spilled. A few hot drops scalded Miss Hunroe’s outstretched hand.

“OW!” Miss Hunroe shrieked. “You clumsy fool!”

The hypnotized woman dropped her head in shame.

“I’m so sorry, madam,” she begged. “Can I get you some ice?”

“No, you certainly can’t,” Miss Hunroe snapped. She turned to the coin that moved over the fingers of her left hand and, with dexterity and a hard look in her eye, flipped it high into the air. She caught it in the palm of her right hand and smacked it down on the back of her left hand. “Heads you lose,” she declared. Then, slowly lifting her mascaraed eyes to Elspeth, she said, “For that, Elspeth, you will not eat for…hmm…for two days.”