is my job to know these things. After all, I am the Professor.”
“Professor what?” asked Peter.
“Oh, I’m much too busy to deal with names,” said the Professor. Then he paused. “But I seem to recall my surname starts with the letter M. You may call me Professor Em, if you wish.”
“What do you do, here, Professor Em?” asked Rosemary.
“Well, I’m afraid I control the forces of evil.”
There was an uncomfortable silence. Finally, Peter said, “Well, at least you’re honest about it.”
“It is who I am,” said the Professor. “And as for how I knew of your imminent arrival, let me show you something.”
He beckoned Rosemary around the house, with the others following, and pointed to the wall. A bank of screens covered the expanse of brick. Some of the scenes she recognized, having passed through them, seemingly ages ago. At the base of the screen, a long console held keyboards, displays, and printouts.
“This is my control centre,” said Professor Em. “My eyes and ears, the centre of my web, and all that.” Something caught his attention and he turned to the screen. After a moment staring, he smiled, pressed a button, and spoke into an intercom. “Prince Valiant is heading down the path to the swamp. Cue the crocodiles!”
“Crocodiles!” cried Rosemary.
The Professor smiled at her. “I can’t let him off easily. If he wants to rescue his fiancée from the quicksand, he’s got to go through the crocodiles.”
“His fiancée?” said Rosemary.
“Quicksand?” exclaimed Peter.
“You put his fiancée in quicksand?” said Rosemary.
“No, that was just bad luck,” said the Professor. “But I arranged for his so-called friend to lead him into the crocodiles’ path.”
Rosemary stared at him, appalled.
“So, I have been watching you, Miss Watson,” said the Professor. He tapped a screen that showed images of Rosemary at the beach before the Sea of Ink, at the bridge of the Black Knight, in the haunted house, and on the Magical Mystery Tour. “I knew you would come this way. I’ve met lots of heroes, you see. Speaking of which, are you hungry? Would you like a sandwich?”
Rosemary gave him a nervous glance. “No. Thank you.”
The Professor smiled. “Never break bread with the enemy, eh? I suppose that’s wise, but it’s hardly civilized. Why don’t you relax? Sit down. Talk with me. So few people do, and I appreciate the company.”
The Professor’s eyes were the colour of a pinstripe suit. Rosemary shivered. “No. W-we should be going.”
“You’ve hardly rested,” said the Professor. “You haven’t even sat down. I haven’t fetched new shoes. Come, have some lemonade. I made it myself.”
“No, thanks,” said Rosemary, backing away. “We really need to go, now.”
“I worry you, don’t I, Miss Watson?” said the Professor. “You think that I’ll lead you into the path of the crocodiles as you attempt to rescue your brother.”
“Well, wouldn’t you?” said Peter. “Of course,” said the Professor. “But it would be for your own good. The truth is, you need me. You both need me.”
Rosemary stopped. “I don’t need you!”
“Certainly you do. Where would you be without me?”
“A lot happier!” said Peter.
“Are you sure about that? Are you really sure? Imagine, for a moment, a world without villains. Would you remember Robin Hood without the Sheriff? Superman in a perfect world? Behind every great hero is a great villain. Holmes had Moriarty. King Arthur had Morgaine. These legends would be nothing without their enemies.”
“We’re not talking about a book,” said Rosemary. “We’re talking about real life; we’re talking about my brother!”
“Then let us consider real life,” said the Professor. “Where would you be if not here, Miss Watson? Hiding in your study cubicle, I’d wager, reading your encyclopedias, running away from your books.”
“Stop it!” Peter pulled Rosemary behind him. “We’re leaving. You are not going to keep us here any longer.”
Professor Em straightened up. His tongue, forked like a snake’s, flicked out and tasted the air. “You’re right, my boy. I’ve kept you here long enough.”
There was a whine of engines, and out of the valley, three Zeppelins rose into view, taking their places in the sky. Their grapples dipped and weaved like dangling cobras.
“You tricked us!” Rosemary shouted.
The Professor shrugged. “My dear child, whatever did you expect?”
Rosemary could see the girl with the horn-rimmed glasses in the cockpit of one of the Zeppelins. The girl sneered at her.
“Ah, yes, there She is right now,” said Professor Em. “This was Her idea. She is very new to the villain game, playing against type, in fact, but She has adapted. People do when they’re angry.”
The grapples lunged.
“Both of you, flee! I shall hold them off!” Puck picked up a stone the size of a soccer ball. He took three running steps and hurled it over his head. It sailed high and punched through the skin of the nearest Zeppelin. A hissing noise filled the air, and the Zeppelin sank out of view, its engines struggling and the cabin dropping ballast. Seconds later, there was a thump, and a fireball erupted skyward.
The other Zeppelins’ engines surged, and they floated higher. The grapples descended, jaws open, and struck at Puck, who dodged.
Peter and Rosemary ran for the road, but the Professor flung his arms wide. They turned into tentacles and wrapped around Rosemary’s and Peter’s bodies. He hauled them back, their feet dangling in the air.
“What was it you read off the idea tree?” he said, his tongue flicking across Rosemary’s cheek. “What if we could fly?”
“What if rugs could fly!” Rosemary cried, feet flailing. “Rugs!”
“Pity you don’t have rugs, then. Bye-bye!” Peter and Rosemary screamed as he tossed them over the edge.
The girl with the horn-rimmed glasses came sliding down one of the grapple cables. She jumped to the ground and joined Professor Em at the cliff edge.
“Hey, you were supposed to capture them,” she said. “Why did you throw them off the edge?”
“All the better to crunch their bones to make my bread. Have you ever tried to put unbroken bones through a grinder? Dear, dear, it is a bother!”
Rosemary fell. The tumbling air deafened her, carrying her screams away. Her hair whipped her face, and the long fringe of her dress lashed her arms and legs. Peter fell beside her, grey and unreadable as a shadow.
Suddenly she saw something plummet towards her, huge as a shark. It swooped past and swung beneath her, spreading tremendous wings.
Rosemary struck the eagle’s back. It knocked the wind out of her. In her whirling vision, she saw Peter hit, and slide. She saw his pale hands pull out huge feathers. Then he fell again. “Puck!” she screamed.
“Hold fast!” the eagle cried. It folded its wings and dove after the falling boy. They passed Peter and swept under him. Rosemary dug her knees into Puck’s back and caught hold of Peter’s collar as he thudded and slid past. Peter grabbed desperately, plucking more feathers before steadying himself. He lay gasping. Rosemary held him.
His knuckles white, Peter looked back. “They’re following us!”
“What