The Doom of the Haunted Opera by John Bellairs

Author:John Bellairs [Bellairs, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781101659687
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 1998-02-28T16:00:00+00:00

Lewis looked up. Rose Rita was frowning. “‘King of the Dead,’” she repeated slowly. “Wasn’t that what the ghost said?”

Lewis nodded. “I won’t read it all, but the magicians got together and surrounded the theater when Immanuel Vanderhelm was there alone. Mr. Mickleberry went in to see him. There was some kind of wizard’s duel between them. This doesn’t go into any details, but at the end everyone thought Vanderhelm was dead. To be safe, the society persuaded the town to close the theater. Some things aren’t explained. For instance, nobody ever found Mr. Finster or learned what had happened to him.”

“Does it give the spell the good magicians used?” asked Rose Rita.

“No,” replied Lewis. “And what good would it do? We’re not magicians. And this time Henry Vanderhelm has taken care of all the good magicians in town first.”

Rose Rita’s glare was teary behind her spectacles. “You think rotten old Vanderhelm has us licked, don’t you? Well, I don’t! I don’t know how, but I’m going to save Mom from his clutches, and keep him from conducting his creepy old opera, and ch-chase him out of town—” She broke off and began to cry.

Lewis had a helpless, wretched sensation of dread. “Maybe we can do something,” he muttered. “There has to be some way.”

Rose Rita blew her nose. “What time is it?” she mumbled.

Lewis looked at his watch. “Five after three.”

“I have to go home,” Rose Rita said. “Mom asked me to make Dad’s dinner, and he’ll be home at four. You want to ride over with me?” When Lewis hesitated, Rose Rita almost pleaded: “After what happened in the cemetery, I’m scared. Please.”

“Okay,” said Lewis, but his heart was in his shoes. If Rose Rita was afraid, where did that leave him? Rose Rita was the brave one. He was just a worrywart. He got on his bike and rode beside Rose Rita down to Mansion Street.

When he returned, Mrs. Holtz still wasn’t home, which was unusual. Normally she would not spend more than an hour or so shopping. Lewis tried the radio again, but just as he expected, he could only pick up WNZB.

He sat in the green armchair and tried hard to think of something to do. The study was warm and drowsy, and before he knew it, Lewis drifted into an exhausted sleep. He woke with a start hours later and saw that night had fallen. Edgy and afraid, he left the study and went looking for Mrs. Holtz. She still was not home, and by now she should have been cooking dinner.

Lewis called Rose Rita and told her that he was all alone. “Dad’s home,” she said, “but Mom’s still at the stupid audition. You want to come over here?”

“Okay,” Lewis said. Anything was better than sitting in the huge old Barnavelt house all by himself, jumping at every creak of wood or whisper of wind. He got his coat and went out front. Just as he was wheeling his bike down to the street, he heard a woman laughing.

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