Molly Moon & the Morphing Mystery

cold.

“I look forward to ridding the world of people like you, Miss Moon,” she said nastily. “You have no idea how wonderful the world is going to be when I have my way. You have no idea! There will be hurricanes and droughts, and disease will cull. And people like you all over the world, millions and millions of you, will die. And what an empty paradise the world will then be! With only the chosen few left to enjoy it, it will be heaven!”

Molly stiffened. Miss Hunroe’s words were cruel and mad, but she made her predictions with a horrible certainty.

“Leave zem to me,” said Miss Oakkton, baring her knife sharp incisors. “A little torture will do ze trick.”

Suddenly there was a noise from above. All the rats looked up and froze. A dog had wedged its nose under the side of the drain cover and was now wrenching off the grille. All of a sudden, lots of light poured into the sewer. A Jack Russell stuck its pointy brown-and-white face down into the gutter. To all the rats he was a monster, a huge killer monster with a nightmare mouth. His growl chilled them to the core. His growl meant death.

Eleven

The Jack Russell barked ferociously down into the well of the sewer. It snapped with a terrible fury, ready to tear any rodent to pieces. Miss Hunroe and Miss Oakkton fled up the drain. Molly and Micky pushed their backs up to the cold, wet wall of the sewage gully.

“Run!” Micky cried, and turned tail. Molly started to follow Micky. Then she saw that behind the Jack Russell was a white-faced bulldog, and behind him, amazingly, a black pug! She gasped. She’d recognize that velvety face anywhere.

“I don’t believe it!” Molly the rat squeaked. “Micky! Micky, it’s Petula!”

As Micky stopped, so did Miss Hunroe and Miss Oakkton. Molly knew that time was against her. Hunroe and Oakkton were coming back. “Quick, morph into the white dog,” she whispered to Micky. “I’ll take the Jack Russell.”

And so, slinking flat to the wall to avoid the snapping jaws of the Jack Russell, Molly and Micky focused on becoming two of the canine creatures above.

Molly landed in the Jack Russell’s body with such an intensity that as soon as she arrived, his personality was flattened. Magglorian was overwhelmed.

Sorry, sorry, sorry, Molly thought to him. Please let me borrow you just for a bit!

Molly became aware of Magglorian’s brawny, nimble hunting body. His sense of smell was hers now. She was confronted with the stench of the sewer as the Jack Russell smelled it, reading so much more from its foul odors than she had as a rat. And, of course, she smelled rat.

Recognizing Miss Oakkton, Molly as Magglorian the Jack Russell growled as though to kill, and then, with hate- fueled determination, she bit. Molly caught Miss Oakkton’s filthy rat ear between her teeth, and she tugged. She pulled the rat off the ground and shook it like a rag. Then she tossed Miss Oakkton sideways so that she flew, legs splayed, through the air into the stream of pooey water that rushed through the gutter.

Molly dug deeper into the drain. With a sharp bite, she got a nip of the rat that was Miss Hunroe. Then the two rats screeched and scurried away.

Molly barked viciously after them, watching with satisfaction as Miss Oakkton’s tail disappeared up the sewage pipe. With it, Molly realized, had gone the secret of how Molly and Micky might morph back into themselves.

Then Molly turned to see Petula looking at her.

Petula stared at Magglorian. She frowned and put her nose in her paws. Now she was feeling that Magglorian had become Molly. It must be the stress of the situation. The pressure was getting to her. She shut her eyes and shook her head.

Then a very peculiar thing happened. Magglorian said, “Petula. I know this is going to sound very strange, but this is me, Molly.” Petula opened her eyes wide and edged backward. “Don’t be scared,” Magglorian continued. “I’ve learned how to change shape—it’s called morphing. And Micky’s learned it, too. Look, he’s morphed into the body of your friend.”

Petula was stumped. She hadn’t told the two London dogs Micky’s name, so this must be true—Molly, her lovely Molly, was in the body of the Jack Russell.

“Molly?” she said unsurely.

“Yes, it’s me.”

This really was very strange for both Molly and Petula. For though Molly, with her human mind-reading skills had, on a few occasions, managed to decipher some of Petula’s thoughts, and Petula, with her dog-given extrasensory skills, had been able to detect Molly’s moods and whereabouts, neither had been able to properly understand each other and speak to each other.

Now, though, because they were both dogs, they could communicate in dog speak. They looked at each other, stunned. But there was no time to start talking now. Explanations would have to wait.

Molly’s eyes shot to the entrance of the Glitz Restaurant. Black had gone, but with her amazing sense of smell, she could tell where he had been standing. He smelled of ink and books and pinecones. And leather. Then Molly spotted Miss Teriyaki and Miss Suzette arguing on the pavement, and she caught a whiff of the hypnotism book again. Though it was far away, its smell lingered in the air. The book had the meego secret of how she and Micky might morph back into themselves. They had to get it before Miss Hunroe did.

“Petula, we’ll fill you in later,” said Molly. “At the moment, the most important thing in the world is that we follow that smell of pinecones and leather and the cab that’s carrying it!”

And so the dogs began to trot. So intent were they on following Black that they didn’t smell the two docile, hypnotized cats that sat dozing in a basket that hung on a hook outside a hat shop’s entrance, waiting for their owners’ return.

Luckily the London traffic was dense on this winter night. So although Black’s taxi had already driven away, its progress was slow, and the dogs were soon able to pinpoint the vehicle and then follow it. It weaved past restaurants, boutique shops, and gallery-lined streets.