Clash of the Worlds

Copyright

First published in hardback in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2016

HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,

1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

The HarperCollins website address is: www.harpercollins.co.uk

Text copyright © Novel Approach LLC 2016

Illustrations copyright © Tom Percival 2013

Jacket Illustration © Cliff Nielsen, 2016

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780007465859

Ebook Edition © 2016 ISBN: 9780007465880

Version: 2016-04-05

For Ned

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

Chapter 76

Chapter 77

Chapter 78

Chapter 79

Chapter 80

Chapter 81

Chapter 82

Chapter 83

Chapter 84

Chapter 85

Chapter 86

Chapter 87

Chapter 88

Chapter 89

Chapter 90

Chapter 91

Chapter 92

Chapter 93

Chapter 94

Chapter 95

Chapter 96

Chapter 97

Chapter 98

Chapter 99

Chapter 100

Chapter 101

Chapter 102

Epilogue

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About the Publisher

Brendan Walker knew this story wasn’t going to have a happy ending.

He stood on the beach near his home on Sea Cliff Avenue with his sisters, Cordelia and Eleanor, and stared out at the San Francisco Bay. Not at the whole bay, but rather at the exact spot in the water where they had just seen their friend, a colossus named Fat Jagger, standing a few moments ago.

Cars were stopped on the Golden Gate Bridge. Several people peered over the edge, likely wondering if they had really just seen a massive, fifty-storey tall, overweight version of Mick Jagger in the middle of the San Francisco Bay, howling at the moon.

But it simply couldn’t have been possible. Fat Jagger wasn’t real, at least not in the same way that he and his sisters were. He was just a character in an old novel by Denver Kristoff. Or so Brendan had thought. Then again, the Walker children had witnessed enough “impossible” things in the past few months to convince them that literally anything was possible.

Most kids would probably run away screaming if they saw a huge colossus wearing a loincloth rise up out of the ocean. Or at the very least, call 911. They certainly wouldn’t try to lure the massive giant even closer. But the three Walker children were definitely not like most kids. At least, not any more. Not since they had moved into Kristoff House and found themselves thrown into the magical world of his books – engaged in a seemingly endless battle with the evil Wind Witch, frost beasts, Nazi cyborgs, bloodthirsty pirates, and a variety of other horrors from the depths of the author’s imagination.

“Well, now what?” Brendan asked. “We could call my English teacher, Ms Krumbsly, to lure him out. She’s still single and almost as big as Fat Jagger. They might make a cute couple?”

His younger sister, Eleanor, slapped his arm. “Bren!” she scolded. “Fat Jagger’s our friend! You should be nicer to him; he did save our lives a couple of times. Ms Krumbsly is way too mean – I wouldn’t even wish her on my worst enemies.”

“Yeah, I know, Nell,” Brendan said. “I guess what I’m saying is that we don’t exactly have a good plan.”

“Since when have you ever worried about having a well-structured plan in place before acting?” Cordelia asked.

She was the oldest of the three Walker kids at nearly sixteen, although she tended to sometimes talk and act like she was at least twice her age.

“Hey, I can make plans and be the leader sometimes too,” Brendan protested. His sisters just looked at him. They knew, as well as he did, that he was much better at making jokes.

The three Walker children were standing on the beach directly below the cliff upon which the Victorian, three-storey Kristoff House was precariously perched – the same house that they would only be able to call home for one more night. Because after once again barely escaping from the fantastical book world with their lives, they had returned to a reality in which their father had managed to gamble away a ten-million-dollar fortune. And so the next morning they’d be moving back into a cramped apartment near Fisherman’s Wharf.

“Come on,” Cordelia said, pulling her coat closed to fend off the biting ocean breeze. “Let’s at least try to get closer to the bridge, in the vicinity of where he surfaced. Standing around talking certainly isn’t going to accomplish anything.”

Brendan and Eleanor followed Cordelia along the beach towards the bridge. There was still no sign of Fat Jagger.

As the three Walkers moved further along the beach, they passed a homeless man with a long grey beard sitting in the brush at the base of the cliff. He watched them walk by, but said nothing. The moonlight seemed to make his eyes shine like diamonds in the darkness of the shadows. For a split second, Brendan thought it was the Storm King, which was what Denver Kristoff had been calling himself ever since The Book of Doom and Desire had corrupted his soul years ago.

But that book was gone now; Eleanor had banished it for ever, using its own magic against it. And so was the Storm King. The three Walker siblings had seen him get hit and killed by a city bus outside the Bohemian Club in downtown San Francisco – killed by his own daughter no less, Dahlia Kristoff, aka the Wind Witch. But in spite of the online news article claiming his body had been buried in a nearby mausoleum under an assumed identity, Brendan wasn’t completely convinced that the crooked old wizard was actually dead.

“Fat Jagger!” Eleanor screamed, shaking Brendan from his thoughts.

For a moment, he thought the colossus must have reappeared. But Eleanor shouted his name again, calling out across the bay like she was looking for a lost dog.

“Fat Jagger, come out, we can help you!” Eleanor yelled.

Cordelia cupped her hands around her mouth and joined in. “Fat Jagger, we’re here now!”

“Come on out, Fat Jagger! It’s us, the Wallllk-errrrs!” Eleanor shouted, drawing out the pronunciation of their last name the way he always did.

“Nice Fat Jagger impersonation,” Brendan said as he looked around the beach. “Let me try.”

Brendan stepped up to the water and began to sing,

“You can start me up, if you start me up I’ll never stop …”

“Just because you were a rock star when we travelled to ancient Rome doesn’t mean you’re a great singer back in the real world,” Eleanor said.

“You’re just jealous of my sterling pipes, Nell.”

Eleanor didn’t bother responding.

A young couple jogging along the beach slowed and watched the three kids warily. They kept a safe distance from the Walkers as they passed.

The water lapped gently at the kids’ feet as they continued to shout, but there was still no sign of their friend. Several other people taking an evening walk on the beach were now looking at them with a mixture of curiosity and confusion.

“Guys, let’s take it easy with the shouting. People are going to think we’re a few noodles short of a spaghetti dinner,” Brendan said, borrowing one of his dad’s favourite lame jokes.

The first few times Dr Walker useAd that line, Brendan had groaned. But after hearing it at every holiday and birthday party for so long, he had come to love it. Those had been simpler times back then, though. Back before the Walker family was in financial ruins, before they had gotten themselves tangled up in the dark magic and secrets surrounding Kristoff House. Back before the three kids had to spend their evenings on a beach trying to lure a fifty-storey colossus named Fat Jagger out of the San Francisco Bay.

“What are we going to do?” Cordelia asked. “Why won’t Fat Jagger surface again?”

“Maybe he can’t hear us?” Eleanor suggested, fighting tears. “Under all that water.”

“Maybe we never even saw him at all?” Brendan said. “Did we just imagine him?”

“You’re not helping,” Cordelia scolded. “We all know what we saw. Even if one of us imagined it, there’s no way we all did simultaneously. Three people don’t just randomly have the same hallucination!”

Brendan sighed. She had a point.

“Well,” he said, “we know Jagger can hold his breath for a really long time. So he probably won’t drown.”

“That’s right,” Cordelia said, turning towards Eleanor’s panicked face. “Remember? The first time we were sent into Kristoff’s books, Fat Jagger walked all the way across the huge sea to Tinz … just to save us.”

Eleanor nodded and took a few deep breaths, still struggling to fight back her tears. She didn’t quite know what it was about Fat Jagger that she connected with so much, but she had truly come to view him as one of her best friends, in spite of the fact that they’d never really had a conversation longer than one or two words.

“I mean, we could try to go fishing for him or something,” Brendan suggested, only half kidding. “We could use one of Mrs Deagle’s cats as bait …”

“That’s horrible!” Eleanor shouted.

“But she’s got like twenty-seven cats,” Brendan said. “She’ll never miss one!”

“Not funny, Bren,” Cordelia chided.

“Sorry, comedy is in my blood.” Brendan shrugged. “I can’t just switch it off.”

“I would hardly call it comedy,” Cordelia muttered.

Eleanor wasn’t really listening to her older siblings squabble. She was lost in her own thoughts. And then the solution suddenly hit her – she knew how they could lure Fat Jagger out of the bay.

“I’ve got it!” Eleanor said. “I just need to get to a Safeway.”

“Nell, we can eat later,” Brendan said, but then put a hand on his stomach. “On second thoughts … now that you said it, I could go for a couple of Lunchables.”

Neither Cordelia nor Eleanor had the chance to respond, because their mother’s voice called out from behind them.

“Kids, there you are!” she called. “Don’t sneak off like that, I’ve been looking everywhere for you three! Let’s get back home. Our plans have changed.”

“We can’t yet!” Eleanor said. “We’re, uh … not finished saying goodbye to the neighbourhood!”

Eleanor knew she needed to buy more time to execute her plan to lure out Fat Jagger and get him away from the city, to head north up the coast where he’d be less likely to get spotted. She had seen enough movies to know that a colossus running loose in San Francisco would not end well. She could already envisage Fat Jagger chained up and on display as a part of some sort of travelling freak show. Or even worse, swatting at fighter jets as they swooped in to destroy him.

“I’m sorry, sweetie, there’s no time!” Mrs Walker said, crushing Eleanor’s hopes. “Things have changed and we need to move into the apartment tonight. The moving truck is waiting for us. We’re leaving right now.”

The Walker kids looked at each other with expressions that ranged from complete despair to outright panic. Their looks said:

Now what would they do?

How could Fat Jagger possibly stay hidden throughout the night?

Man, I could really use a Lunchable.

But they had no choice. Mrs Walker clearly wasn’t going to allow any debate on the matter, and she already looked harried enough as it was. So they slowly followed their mother up the hill towards their street, Sea Cliff Avenue. Or, more accurately, their former street.

As they trudged up the steeply sloping hill, Eleanor took one last look back at the bay. That’s when she saw a disturbance in the water out near the centre of the bridge. At this distance, it looked like a small ripple, perhaps just a swirling current, or a seal or dolphin. But she knew better. To her, the ripple had looked more like a pair of pronounced colossus lips poking out of the water to get another breath of air.

As they followed Mrs Walker back towards Kristoff House, the three kids lagged a few feet behind. Brendan and Cordelia were surprised to see Eleanor smiling.

“I just saw Fat Jagger poke his lips out of the water to breathe,” she whispered to them. “Which means I think he knows that he needs to stay hidden. If he can just stay out of sight until tomorrow morning, I have a plan to lure him out.”

“But what are we going to do even if we get Fat Jagger to shore?” Brendan asked dubiously. “Invite him over for a slumber party? Play Twister, make microwave popcorn and then spill our most embarrassing secrets?”

“We could bring him to school!” Eleanor said excitedly, totally missing her brother’s sarcasm.

Brendan imagined Jagger rolling up the school bully Scott Calurio between his thumb and forefinger like a booger and then smashing him to the side of the school building.

“That would be pretty cool,” Brendan admitted. “Plus, he would absolutely crush it in lacrosse.”

Cordelia glared at Eleanor and Brendan, but before any of them could say anything else, their mom interrupted the conversation.

“Kids, there’s something else I have to tell you,” Mrs Walker said, looking a bit nervous. “It’s certainly not going to be easy – but it’s for the best. It’s the reason we need to move tonight instead of tomorrow.”

The Walker kids stopped and waited anxiously for her to deliver the news.

“I know this will be hard for you, and it is for me too,” Mrs. Walker said slowly, her eyes looking red and tired. “But tomorrow morning, your dad is going away for a few days, or maybe even a few weeks. To a gambling addiction treatment facility.”

“Wait, Dad is a gambling addict?” Cordelia asked.

Guilt began to stir inside her as she realised that her first thought was how this was going to affect her – what would people think? Would all the prestigious colleges she hoped to get into somehow find out that her dad spent time in treatment? Cordelia had always focused on her future, doing everything the “right” way and trying to be the best. But now she saw her dreams quickly fading in the face of this news. Did kids with addict fathers actually get into places like Harvard and Yale and Stanford?

“Dad is going away?” Eleanor asked, her voice breaking. The thought of potentially losing Fat Jagger and her dad in one night was more than she could stomach.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Mrs Walker said, pulling an arm around Eleanor and trying to force a smile. “It’ll just be for a little bit, and we can visit him this weekend. And when he gets back, everything will be so much better. I promise. You kids are so strong and independent, you always have been. I know you’ll … we’ll get through this, together.”

“But what will we do for money?” Brendan asked.

“Brendan!” Mrs Walker said, glaring at her son. “Is that all you can think about right now?”

Brendan hesitated, perhaps a moment too long, before finally shaking his head no, feeling bad that he was more worried about family finances than his own dad’s mental health.

Of course, there was always the Nazi treasure map they’d brought back from the book world. But that was a long shot. According to the red X on the map, the treasure was hidden somewhere in Europe. Which, the last time Brendan had checked, was a long way away from San Francisco. Plus, they still had no idea if the treasure would even be there in the real world at all. It might only exist inside one of Denver Kristoff’s fictional books.

“In the meantime, I am more than capable of taking care of our family,” Mrs Walker continued, struggling to sound positive. “Which is why I will be starting a new job in the shoe department at Macy’s tomorrow.”

Just a few weeks ago the family lived in a beautiful Victorian home overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge and had a ten-million-dollar bankroll. Now they were moving into a tiny apartment with virtually nothing to their name. Well, except the embarrassment that their father, Dr Walker, had brought by losing his medical licence and then gambling away all their money in just a few short months. The family still had that to their name, of course.

Brendan suddenly felt horrible giving his mom such a hard time about money. None of this was her fault, after all. She was the one Walker who was probably least responsible for any of the family’s recent and ongoing problems.

“Well,” Brendan said, “if you need your first customer, I’ve got some birthday money saved up. I always wondered what I’d look like in a pair of red heels.”

In spite of the sombre mood, all of the Walkers laughed. The sound of their laughter almost seemed to lift some of the darkness draped across Sea Cliff Avenue that evening. As if the moon had suddenly switched to a higher setting.

“I think I would actually pay to see Brendan in heels,” Mrs Walker laughed, hugging them all. “I love you guys, you know that? No matter how bad things get, you always find a way to make me smile. Anyway, you won’t have time to shop for shoes tomorrow.”

“Why not?” Cordelia asked.

Mrs Walker then delivered what Brendan and Cordelia thought to be the worst news of the evening so far.

“Because you’ll all be going back to your old schools tomorrow morning.”

Later that night, Eleanor tossed and turned in her tiny bed inside her tiny room that she shared with Cordelia in the tiny apartment they had moved into. Nightmares haunted her sleep. Nightmares of Fat Jagger fighting off massive great white sharks in the dark waters of the San Francisco Bay. Nightmares of Fat Jagger getting caught up in a fishing net and drowning. Nightmares of Fat Jagger getting discovered and then hunted by men with giant harpoons in whaling ships. And in all her nightmares, there was nothing she could do to help him.

Brendan, however, was not even trying to sleep.

He was sitting at the small desk in his room with his head in his hands, thinking about having to go back to his old school and seeing all of his old friends and teachers. They would all ask him why he had to transfer out of private school and come back. He’d have to tell them the truth. That his dad gambled away all their money and they got kicked out of their home. It’d be especially hard to face them after the way he’d left – admittedly (now) a little too cocky over how much better his new private school was going to be “than this dump”.

This reality somehow filled Brendan with more fear than most of the crazy book adventures he had been on. He realised death was almost easier to face than total humiliation – which was a startling and sobering revelation.

Brendan distracted himself by switching on the fifty-five-inch TV that he’d brought with him from his not-quite-a-man cave in the Kristoff House attic. They could take away his cool attic bedroom and his old school and the money and his chauffeur (which was probably his favourite part of their old life). But nobody was getting their hands on the TV he bought with some of the money Eleanor had wished for using The Book of Doom and Desire. He and the TV had been through a lot together already, including the Giants’ most recent World Series victory. He’d been so excited on the final out, that he almost accidentally threw his half-full can of soda right through her beautiful and flawless screen.

Brendan flipped through the channels, looking for the reruns of Family Guy or South Park that always seemed to be on late at night. He was just about ready to settle on ESPN as a consolation, when a headline on a news channel caught his eye. For a second, he figured maybe he was watching a parody news show, because there was no way the headline could be true.

But the channel was CNN. The news story Brendan watched play out on-screen was most definitely real. And it caused him to literally fall out of his bedroom chair and land on the floor with a sickening thud.