8 The Reluctant Beast-Keepers

The Reluctant Beast-Keepers Okey dokey, let's get going," Mr. Nickle said to the guard, pointing at the cage's control panel with one of his sticks. "Time to shut down the laser walls." The beast clapped its tongues together in delight. Bethany and Ebenezer did no clapping whatsoever, because they both felt

like they had been told the unfunniest joke in the world. "As we shut down the walls of the laser cage, we need you to remain completely still," Mr. Nickle said to the beast. "Don't make any sudden movements, and don't step outside the cage, until I say so." The old man nodded at the guard, who shut down the first of the laser cage's four walls. A few moments later, she shut down the second. "Look at my besties, Nickle-Wickle—they're speechless with excitement!" said the beast. It smiled a dribbly smile as the guard shut down the third wall. "Oh, I am gladsies. I was ever so worried." The beast's face was the picture of sincerity. It looked like butter wouldn't melt

on its tongues, even though Ebenezer knew for a fact that several things much worse than butter had been in its mouth. He looked over at Bethany, trying to decipher what she was thinking about all this. He'd half expected her to start kicking Mr. Nickle's shins, but she just stood there, motionless—her hands still bunched into fists, and her mouth closed tighter than a wrench.

"I told you not to move!" barked Mr. Nickle. The beast was wobbling on its little legs. If Ebenezer hadn't known it so well, he would have said that the beast was wobbling out of nervousness. He also spotted a pair of small D.o.R.R.i.S. rain boots on its feet. Unfortunately, being shouted at did nothing to settle the beast's nerves. Its little legs wobbled even more, as the final wall of its cage was shut down. "Okay—step out slowly now," said Mr. Nickle, coaxing the beast with one of his sticks. It took a while before the beast felt strong enough to take its first step out into the wild. When it did so, it fell flat on its face, and a nail from the metallic floors got jammed in one of its eyes.

"Owwwsies!" The beast pulled the nail out and licked its eye until the cut healed. It climbed back to its feet. It was still a little shaky, so it held out its tiny, sticky hands for help, which it received in the form of one of Mr. Nickle's sticks. The beast looked pitiful—so completely removed from the petrifying presence Ebenezer had experienced over the centuries that his brain could barely believe his eyes. "I'm so excited to become a do-goodinger!" said the beast. It pointed two eyes at Ebenezer and the third at Bethany. "So what do you thinkywink? Will you helpsies?" Ebenezer had often wondered what it would be like if he could persuade the beast to vomit out an occasional dribble of good into the world. He had long ago abandoned

any hope of it actually happening. He looked at Bethany, but she was still quiet—as if silenced by the shock of it all. "I think… I have a question for Mr. Nickle," said Ebenezer. He turned to the old man. "I just wanted to know… when did you start being a nincompoop?" The joyful expression that had been on Mr. Nickle's face all day gave way to a far less friendly arrangement of wrinkles. "I am not a nincompoop," he said. "I'm the head agent of the world's most powerful secret agency." "Okey dokey. Then you're a nincompoop with a fancy title," said Ebenezer. "Because I can tell you now that there's not an ounce of good in the beast's whole body. I should know better than anyone. I lived with it for five centuries."