The Specter Key by Kaleb Nation

name to the bottom of the sketch, and she stood before her likeness, still staring at it.
    “Like it?” he asked.
    “Nim,” she replied. She crawled off, and Bran pulled the drawing up to put on the board, sticking it in the bottom corner so she could see it from the desk.
    What am I going to do with her? he wondered. He hadn’t wanted to ask the question, but he knew the real danger he had brought to himself. If she was seen he would be off to jail in no time. He heard a sound and glanced at the box and was startled to see Nim peering into the keyhole.
    “Wait, no!” he burst, leaping forward and seizing the box from her. His rush of motion caused her to fall over. He dropped the box onto the desk again with alarm.
    “Are you all right?” he asked frantically, but she was already getting up. She shook her head, looking to be very dizzy.
    “You can’t touch this, understand?” Bran said severely, but the harshness in his voice caused him to stop. She blinked up at him, confused, and he bit his lip.
    “Listen, this is just very, very dangerous,” he tried to explain. “There’s something in here, and I don’t know what it is. It could hurt you—or me.”
    She didn’t look as if she really understood, but the fear in her eyes told him that she knew from his reaction that it was something important. He covered it with the old blanket again. Nim fluttered up to pull the corner over the other end. When he was finished, he glanced at the clock.
    “It’s late,” he said aloud. “I’ve got to get to sleep. Since you’re staying here you probably should as well.”
    He reached to the lamp switch and turned it off. Instantly, two circles of blue appeared as a glow in the night, resting on the edges of Nim’s wings, almost like eyes. Bran was surprised to see the color. As Nim breathed in, it went green, and when she breathed out, it went to blue again, like a softly pulsating lamp. She had flown to the window and was looking out again.
    “What’s out there now?” he asked. She shifted her head, crawling up the window and then tapping on the sill. He sighed and went back over.
    “Look, there’s nothing out there,” he said after studying the lawn and road again. “There’s not even a squirrel or a cat.”
    “Nim,” she insisted, trying to keep his attention.
    “Look, it’s really late,” Bran said, checking the window one final time. “I need to sleep. Tomorrow we can go out there and look if you want.”
    Nim sighed and gave up trying. She settled down into her cotton ball bed and folded her wings softly over her like a blanket. The glow of her wings continued, but it was so soft and Bran so tired that as he settled into bed, even it didn’t keep him from falling asleep.
    Very early the next morning, Bran awoke to a huge racket downstairs. He almost leapt up but felt something on his cheek. He didn’t move, expecting a wasp or a mosquito, but found Nim curled up on his face, sleeping.
    “Wake up ye and feel the cheer! Tonight’s the feast ’cause Fridd’s Day’s here!” a chorus of voices roared in song downstairs, banging bells. Bran blinked and shifted his eyes up—not even daylight out.
    “Fridd’s Day Eve already?” he groaned. The singing voices were far too in tune to be the Wilomases; it was probably Ms. Hattie and Her Roaring Chorus out caroling and paying back the neighbors for never going to her parties. Bran very gently slid Nim onto his pillow, stealing down the ladder. He overheard Sewey give a nervous chuckle by the front door.
    “Thank you everyone, thank you and bravo!” Sewey called out, the front porch light illuminating the visitors in the dark. “Wonderful performance. Five stars. Stupendous.” He clapped frantically. “I feel practically full of Fridd’s Day cheer already and it’s not even four o’clock! Not even four o’clock!”
    The people laughed and whacked their bells, not catching Sewey’s drift. He winced at the clamor and gave another fake