Beware the Banshee

Chapter 17

Dipper thought he'd made an unnoticed getaway, but halfway to the bonfire clearing, Mabel caught up to him: "You shouldn't be outside the Shack!"

"Go home," he told her, stopping. "I'll be back before dark. I have something I have to do."

"Yeah, you're gonna go talk to Bill Cipher!" she said, balling her fists. "You know you can't trust him! This—whatever it is, monster, it worked for him! No way am I leaving you! It's too dangerous!"

"Not for me," Dipper said, taking both her hands in his. "I'll explain it all someday. You, though—go back to the Shack."

She kicked his shin, something she hadn't done in a long, long time. "You can't make me. You might as well give up, brobro!"

"OK," Dipper said unwillingly. "I'm going to try to make this quick. But you have to wait outside the clearing."

And so inside the clearing around the Cipher statue, Dipper sat on the fallen timber again and willed himself into the Mindscape and shrank himself down to Bill size. For a change Bill did not seem in a lighthearted mood: "Thought you'd be back, Pine Tree. You could've brought Shooting Star along, you know. I don't bite."

Dipper gave him a sardonic grin. "Maybe not, but she does. You know what we're facing?"

"Ummmm . . . that would be a big no, kid. Not omniscient, remember? And I've been concentrating on rebuilding myself, so I haven't been watching the Falls through my psychic portholes. I just know something weird's up, what else is new. However, I can read that you're more than usually upset, so it must be big."

"The Being Whose Name Must Never Be Said," Dipper told him.

The yellow triangle paled to white. "Whoa! You're joking, right? Impossible! He didn't get pulled back into my dimension when the Rift collapsed?"

Dipper shook his head. "Apparently he got buried under tons of rock before all that happened."

Slowly Bill's color returned. He hooked his cane over his left arm, crossed it over his—well, chest area—and cradled his right elbow in his left hand. He tapped the side of his—well, facial region—with his right forefinger as though in deep thought. "Yeah, yeah, that might work. Gravity Falls has a way of containing weirdness. If he was buried under Gravity Falls rock, that could've shielded him from the field collapse. And you say he's free now?"

"Yeah. He dug his way out, and he's coming to attack us in the Shack, but he's burrowing underground—"

Bill snapped his fingers. "Because the Earth's sun weakens him!" Then he drooped. "But even that wouldn't kill him. Just make him dormant until the sun set again."

Dipper got to the big question: "I know he was one of your henchmaniacs, and I don't know how loyal you are to him, but since he's a rogue now, I have to ask: How do we fight him?"

"Geeze, kid, you ask the tough ones! As for loyalty, hah! He wasn't what you'd call my best buddy, Pine Tree. Even I couldn't always control him, and now—let's be honest, OK—I got no use for him. My main job is rebuilding myself, and the last thing I want's for that dummy to sniff me out and let certain people know I'm still trapped and pretty helpless in this dimension."

"Then help us fight him!"

"I'm thinking it over!" Bill manifested a violin and scraped out a horrible tune as he mused, and then the instrument vanished. "OK, maybe if—no, wait, that wouldn't work. I'd have to give him orders personally. And he can't even penetrate the Mindscape—not enough mind there to do it—so I can't communicate with him that way. I suppose you wouldn't consent to be my puppet again—"

"Not Mabel, either," Dipper said flatly. "You're more dangerous than that thing could ever be."

"Hah! Boy, are you right about that!" Then Bill drooped. "Tell you the truth, kid, I couldn't pull off the switch anyway, not in my current state. Too weak. But talk about dangerous? Let me lay it out so at least you'll know what you're dealing with: In your dimension, Xanthar—don't flinch, this is the Mindscape! He can't even sense us here, let alone hear us—Xanthar can kill with a touch. He absorbs life energy—like all at once. So don't lay a finger on him, or let him touch you. He can also emit bursts of energy—electricity, fire, sound waves, what have you. That drains him pretty good, so he won't do those often. Hey, that barrier around the Shack—"

"Is up again. And we reinforced it," Dipper told him.

"Good! That'd be old Sixer's thinking, wouldn't it? That'll hold Xanthar off, and he's too stupid to figure any way around it. But remember—he can burrow! So protect the lower levels of the Shack, too. Yeah, yeah, don't look shocked, Sixer used to invite me down there from time to time, I know all about them. But as for getting rid of Xanthar—I'm stymied. You can't open the Rift again, and you probably wouldn't want to. Hmm. OK, this is all I got: If Sixer could somehow push him through into the dimension Mu 214/!—want to write that down?"

Dipper complained, "I can't write anything down in the Mindscape! But I got it, Mu 214, slash, exclamation point."

"Yeah. That's where his homies hang out. 'Course he's wanted by the police there, but if you throw him through, at least the authorities of his own species should be able to latch onto him, and he couldn't get back. Without me, he couldn't even find this reality in the infinity of multiverses."

Dipper groaned. "The portal doesn't exist any longer! Is there any way just to kill him?"

Bill paced on air, arms behind his back. "Killing a Muthon, killing a Muthon . . . None that I know of, Pine Tree. You can slice him, dice him, and cover him with a savory garlic al Fredo sauce and one of those little pieces will regenerate. You can stun him with Sixer's quantum destabilizer, the thingamabob that did a job on my hat if you'll recall, but unless Stanford's built one that'll fire a ten-foot-diameter beam, it ain't gonna kill him. And he'll regenerate twice as mad as he is now."

Dipper felt time tugging at his elbow. "Listen, Bill—if this is on the level, if any of it helps us beat him, I'll bring you a gold nugget."

"Really? You're not pulling my leg?" Bill popped off his right leg and held it out toward Dipper. "You're pulling it, aren't you? Give it a tug!"

"No tricks, Bill," Dipper said. "You told me that gold will help you rebuild your own molecules. If what you say really works out, I promise to bring you a nugget. Not a big one, but genuine gold."

Bill re-attached his leg. "I gotta say I'm disappointed, Pine Tree. See, you're turning into your Grunkle Ford! That was a hilarious bit, the leg bit! Even Fiddleford woulda laughed at that one! You an' Ford though—nothin'! But, yeah, what I told you's straight truth. Hurts me not to lie, but whattaya gonna do? Talkin' to you's like talkin' to myself, and I never lie to myself. Well, sometimes I do, but I can always tell the difference! Better go, kid. Xanthar ain't predictable, and you've got some shielding to put up."

"Thanks, Bill."

"Not worth mentioning, Pine Tree. Say hi to Shooting Star for me." As Dipper started to fade from the Mindscape, as if on impulse, Bill added, "Dipper! Good luck!"

Three moonstones tucked away in strategic places in each basement and subbasement; more rounds of unicorn hair ringing each one. "I hope these hold," Stanford said as they finished the last one. "An hour to sunset, and the thing is close."

Upstairs they found Wendy staring out the window of the guest room. "I think it stopped," she said. "It's not even a mile away, judging from the tree falls."

"Waiting for sundown," Ford said.

Dipper asked, "Hey, where's Mabel?"

"Dunno."

She wasn't in the Shack. Dipper found her on the back porch, sitting on the edge, legs dangling. "Why won't he come?" she asked softly.

Dipper sat down next to her. "Russ?"

She gave him a sad, sideways glance. "Yeah. I've called until I'm hoarse."

"Maybe he can't come. His folks don't' seem to like the idea."

"I'm afraid he's gonna try to stop that thing on his own," she said. "If Bill wasn't lying—Dipper, Russ could die!"

"Yeah, he needs to know how dangerous it is."

"I wish he'd come."

Looking out over the backyard, toward the Bottomless Pit and the rows of forest trees beyond, and farther still to the bluffs and the mountains already golden in the westering sunlight, Dipper thought, It's too beautiful to be destroyed. It's too quiet for a war to break out.

He was about to get up and pull Mabel to her feet—it was time to go inside—but she jumped up on her own. "Russ! There he is!"

The boy came striding out of the forest, just short of running. Dipper noticed again the peculiar grace of his stride, an athlete's power, a dancer's balance. Cat-like.

No. More like a—

"I'll stand with you," Russ said from the ground.

"Russ," Dipper said, "Mabel can't come outside. You have to come in with us."

"It's OK," Mabel said, reaching out her hand.

"I can't," Russ told her. "I'll show you why. Don't be afraid."

He must have stood at the very edge of the barrier that protected the Shack from anything occult. He thrust his right arm toward them—

And instantly it shriveled into a leg and a paw.

"You're a fox," Dipper said.

Russ pulled his arm back, and it became human again. "I am one of the foxen," he corrected. "A skin-changer. We can become human. I am part-human. My grandmother was a full human woman who went to live in the forest with my grandfather. My mother is half-human."

Dipper asked, "Are your parents controlling the animals?"

"Yes," Russ said. "They know we owe your uncle our lives. They don't understand everything about your kind, though. They are only trying to protect him from the evil that approaches." He looked at Mabel, his features writhing in grief. "You hate me now. I will go away. I have loved you since first I saw you, when I was only a cub, but—it cannot be. Goodbye, Mabel."

"Wait, Russ."

Mabel stepped off the porch and through the barrier. She hugged Russ and then the two kissed. Dipper turned his back. Her first one was when she kissed a merman. Who am I to judge?

"You have to go back inside," Russ said quietly.

"I know. But later—when this is over—"

"My mother understands," Russ said. "But not my father. He will never consent."

"People can change," Mabel told him. "We'll beat this monster and he can change his mind then. You'll see."

She came up onto the porch and took Dipper's arm.

He turned around to look at the red-headed boy. "Russ, listen: Tell your father and mother that this being's touch can kill. The animals have to stay out of its reach. We have some weapons that might help us fight it. The animals have to let my uncle do what he must if he has to come outside to face it. Will you tell them that?"

"I will."

"And remember, the animals can't fight it. It's not anything from this world. Keep them safe."

"If I can." Apologetically, he said, "Mabel, I can travel faster in fox form. You should not watch."

"I don't care," Mabel said. "I really don't."

He turned his back on then, kicked off his shoes, and stripped off his shirt and pants and then—changed. It wasn't like a movie, not a werewolf struggle with muscles convulsing and body contorting—it happened more like a magician's trick, the boy turning, beginning a stride, and in less than the blink of an eye transforming into the graceful form of a leaping fox, running full-out, not a jogging dog-trot but powerful bounds more reminiscent of a cheetah than anything canine. For a few seconds the lowering sun painted his fur bright red, and then he was in shadow and then gone.

Mabel stepped down from the porch again and gathered his scattered clothing. "He'll need these later," she told Dipper.

Neither of them had noticed T.K. O'Grady coming up to the door behind them, but he waited there, and he backed away as they came in. Mabel's head was down, her nose buried in the shirt she carried, so she didn't notice.

But Dipper saw T.K.'s face. Behind the round glasses his eyes were wet, and he looked as if someone had just broken his heart.