Molly Moon & the Morphing Mystery

and as preoccupied as people on their way to work. Despite this, Molly sensed a thin, metallic buzz that rattled through the air. The termites were talking to one another.

Molly took a right turn, a left turn, and an upward turn, all the time not really knowing what her plan should be or where she should go to find Miss Hunroe. Molly’s guide dropped away to the right, into a burrow with high ceilings where other bits of bark and rotting vegetable matter had been dumped. Molly dropped her load, too, but instead of following the other termite again, now she chose her own direction. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was going to do, but oddly, she felt a pull. Just as the giant Logan Stones had done earlier, it was as if Molly was made of metal and there was a magnet drawing her. It was pulling her deeper inside the termite mound. She hoped that the stones from Hypnotism, Volume Two: The Advanced Arts were somehow responsible.

Soon the tunnel ended. It opened into a large oval chamber. Four other tunnel entrances were dotted about the walls, and a little weak light filtered through a hole in the side of the mound’s roof. Molly could hear the rain hitting the shell of the mound. It sounded like a frenzy of drums.

Fewer termites scurried in and out of this area. Some were busy working at the walls, regurgitating something sticky from their mouths and smudging it on them. Beyond, in the depths of the chamber, termites were dropping sweet-smelling food in front of what looked like a ginormous, sluggish caterpillar. This monstrous creature was at least two hundred times the size of the termites. It lay as still as an obese person on a daybed, oozing a slime that smelled of wood and moss. Molly knew instinctively that this revolting-looking thing was the termite queen.

Her eyes fell upon an area in front of the queen, where two big termites stood. Once more Molly felt the strange magnetic pull. And, oddly, a rush of warmth. Just as the reddish orange Logan Stone had radiated warmth, something was giving off heat here, too. Molly moved closer.

Then she saw three of the stones from the cover of the hypnotism book. They were huge now because she was so small. The green stone, the gray stone, and the red stone.

Molly was astounded. Now she knew for sure that the two monstrous termites beside the colored stones were Miss Oakkton and Miss Hunroe. And this lowly termite cave was the very nerve center of world weather control!

Molly realized she was staring. She snapped her gaze away and tried to find something ordinary and termitelike to do. Whatever happened, she must not let them know that she was in the room. So, joining the other termites who were mending the wall, Molly tried to do what they were doing. She gave what felt like a heavy burp, and a chunk of sticky spit came up into her mouth. Coming to grips with her mandibles, she prodded the stuff onto the wall and smoothed it out, just as the other termites were doing. As she worked, Molly trained her hearing on the twittering ants around her.

“Pat it pat it flat it mend it,” said the termite beside her.

“Great one we adore you,” a termite was saying to the queen termite.

“Great one we are your servants,” said another.

And “Feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed you. Feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed you,” said a fourth.

Molly now caught the sound of the Hunroe termite. She was talking in an angry, electric buzz. “I would like to put some cyclones up over the Pacific,” she was saying, “but because of stupid Miss Speal losing the blue water stone, I can’t.”

“Think zem up! You can do it, Miss Hunroe. Use the gray stone instead,” came the unmistakable reply of the Oakkton termite.

Molly watched as Miss Hunroe lay her front four termite legs on the three flat stones in front of her. The colored stones began to hum and throb and beam so that the whole chamber filled with red, gray, and green light. Both the alien-faced termites with their huge pincers and antennas were lit up. The scene was like something out of a science-fiction horror film. The termites beside Molly turned to look.

“Disturbance for queen!” one of them protested.

“O Queen are you happy?” another asked the big fat worm.

“Comp-leeeeeeeeeeeeeet-ly,” came the deep sonorous tones of the queen. “Laaaaarva-lee.”

Miss Hunroe and Miss Oakkton didn’t seem remotely bothered by the queen or the other termites. Their attention was solely fixed upon the glowing, weather-changing stones in front of them. Miss Hunroe squealed with delight, and Miss Oakkton cackled with mirth as the chamber throbbed and glowed.

Molly wasn’t sure what to do next. The termites had finished fixing the wall and were moving off. Molly couldn’t think of a good reason why she should be in the chamber any longer. Reluctantly her eyes settled on the oozing, bubbling, slimy queen. She could, she supposed, be a termite feeding the queen. Slowly, Molly moved toward the smelly, sluggy creature.

Thirty

Micky and Lily followed the friendly, scruffy dog through the rain. They arrived at a bush-covered cliff ledge where there was a low wooden stool. Micky and Lily peered over low ferns to see what was down below. Immediately they saw the collection of huts in the clearing. One hut had rabbit skins pegged out on a board outside it.

“Wonder who lives here,” Micky whispered. As though in answer, they heard a dog barking. “That sounds just like Petula!” Micky gasped. “It’s coming from that shed.” Micky stroked the mountain dog. “Good boy.”

Lily began pushing through the sopping leaves ahead. “How do we get down there?”

Micky grabbed her arm. “I think Petula’s locked up, Lily. We don’t know who lives down there. It could be really dangerous. We’re going to have to play this one carefully. “

Lily stared at him. “Who’s locked her up? Do you think Molly is with her? Or Malcolm?”

“I don’t know,” said Micky. “Let’s watch for a bit and see.”

And so Micky and Lily waited. Petula could obviously smell them, for she continued to bark. Their patience paid off. In five minutes Miss Teriyaki and Miss Speal, both holding glasses containing some sort of brown liquid,