Return to the Isle of the Lost

by Melissa de la Cruz

  Just as they reached the other side, Jay turned around and zapped the remote control again, and the bridge disappeared.

  “Don’t drive into town,” said Mal. “We should hide the car somewhere.”

  “Good idea,” said Carlos, who veered off the main street and into one of the dusty, unfinished roads. But it was hard to steer the large car on such rocky terrain, and Carlos tried to overcompensate by turning the wheel left when he should have turned right, and his passengers screamed as the car swerved and plunged into a ditch, sending everything flying as the limousine crashed into a copse of dead trees.

  The engine died and the smoke cleared. “Everyone okay?” Mal called from the backseat. It looked as if their seat belts had saved them from serious injury, and Mal was thankful they had picked up the habit of wearing them in Auradon.

  “Sorry, sorry!” said Carlos, coughing from the front.

  Evie nodded that she was all right and Jay offered a thumbs-up from the passenger side. “A-OK, except I think we lost the remote to the bridge,” he said. “It must have flown out the windshield.” He pointed to the huge hole in the middle of the glass.

  “We’ll just have to find another way to get back,” said Mal.

  “I guess we could swim?” joked Jay.

  “Well, at least the crash took care of one thing. The car’s definitely hidden now. No one will find it here,” said Carlos.

  They took turns changing inside the roomy back passenger area into their normal clothing and began the long walk into town. Mal checked the time. After all of their delays, they still had a few hours before the Anti-Heroes meeting was supposed to start. “Let’s meet at Evie’s castle a little before midnight,” said Mal. “For now, let’s split up. Each of you, see if you can locate your parents. Once we know what they’re planning, we’ll figure out what to do about it.”

  “What do we say if anyone from the Isle asks why we’re back?” asked Evie, looking uncomfortable at the thought.

  “Yeah, I bet they’re not exactly going to be excited to see us,” said Carlos.

  “Tell them the truth, that we’re visiting our aged relatives,” suggested Jay with a grin. Soon they had reached the outskirts of town and passed Dragon Hall, following Woeful Way down to the familiar town square, cornered by shabby buildings on all sides and the Bargain Castle looming over everything.

  “Don’t let anyone know we know about this Anti-Heroes club,” said Mal. “Until we find Cruella, Jafar, and Evil Queen.”

  The group agreed. “Wow, this place is worse than I remember,” said Carlos, looking around. “And what is that smell? Did you guys ever notice that before?” He made a face. “It smells like…”

  “Poisoned toads,” said Mal, who remembered what went into the daily coffee brew.

  “Goblins,” said Jay, who seemed to have the foul creatures stuck in his mind.

  “Garbage,” said Evie, who recoiled at the memory.

  “Actually, it smells like a combination of all three,” Carlos decided.

  Mal had to agree, even if a small part of her was happy to return to the familiar “comforts” of home. The outdoor bazaar was closed for the day, but the Slop Shop and Ursula’s Fish and Chips were doing brisk business. It was kind of sad to see how terrifically ramshackle everything looked, though. Mal used to revel in dirt and decay, but she’d been in Auradon too long, and now everything was grimier than she remembered. She really needed to chug a cup of toad coffee before she got too soft.

  “Look at that,” said Jay, pointing to a poster of Maleficent pasted to the side of a wall. Someone had drawn a mustache on her face, and another person had scrawled MISTRESS OF LIZARDS over her forehead.

  “Whoa,” said Carlos.

  “You said it,” said Evie. “I guess they saw the Coronation; it was broadcast live to the whole kingdom, even here.”

  When Maleficent was, well, Maleficent, no one would dare even think to vandalize her likeness. There were other changes too. Goblins seemed to have taken over the square. There were dozens and dozens of them, living in cardboard boxes and gathered around little trash-can fires.

  “Where did they all come from?” wondered Evie, who had never seen so many.

  “The Forbidden Fortress maybe?” Jay guessed. During their quest for the Dragon’s Eye scepter, they had run into a rather large and unfriendly goblin horde.

  “Nope,” grunted a goblin when he overheard their conversation. He was a stout, runty fellow, and looked as if he hadn’t had a good meal in a long while. His green skin was sallow, and his yellow eyes red-rimmed. “We used to work the barges, but with the embargo, there’s a limit on how many of us can bring in supplies from the mainland anymore. Maleficent promised us freedom and a better life, but she got turned into a lizard, so here we are.”

  “Sorry about that,” said Mal.

  “You the one that did that to her?” the goblin asked.

  “Sort of,” she replied as Evie pulled her away.

  “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to talk to strange goblins?” her friend scolded.

  “Of course not,” said Mal.

  “Mine didn’t either,” admitted Evie.

  They walked through the streets, feeling the eyes of the island’s citizens following them. Mal realized that even if they were dressed casually, they were still better dressed and much cleaner-looking than anyone else. Their clothes, unlike their former neighbors’ wardrobes, weren’t patched and frayed, or ill-fitting and holey. Mal felt a new wave of emotions—a little proud, a little bittersweet, a little abashed that they looked so different from everyone else. And a little scared to think what their old neighbors now thought of them. Did the people of the island now despise them like they did the fancy princes and princesses of Auradon?

  In Auradon, people stared at them because they came from somewhere else, and now on the Isle of the Lost, everyone stared at them because they’d left. In a way, it was just the same. Now they were outsiders in both places. Some of the townsfolk looked at them balefully, while others were merely curious.

  “Hi, Gaston, and, um, Gaston,” said Evie, seeing the burly duo across the street.

  But the Gastons simply scowled.

  Evie backed away. “They used to be pretty friendly back in Dragon Hall,” she said. “They even offered to share their lunch with me.”

  “Not anymore,” said Mal. “I bet they don’t even share a crumb with you at this point.”

  “Let’s keep going,” urged Carlos. “Everyone’s staring. I feel like they’ll start throwing rotten tomatoes at us.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time,” said Jay, but he looked nervous too.

  “Well, well, if isn’t the heroes of Auradon.” The four of them turned at the sound of the voice and saw a girl with dark frizzy hair leaning over a balcony. She had piercing gray eyes and wore a soiled red dress with tattered golden piping at the neckline.

  “There’s that word again,” Evie whispered. “Heroes.”

  “Ginny Gothel!” said Mal. “Get down here!” Ginny had been a friendly acquaintance back in Dragon Hall, and Mal remembered with a hint of shame that they had often enjoyed making fun of smaller, weaker people together. They watched as Ginny shimmied down the edge of the building and walked toward them.

  Mal wasn’t sure what she was expecting when she returned to the Isle of the Lost, but it certainly wasn’t to find Ginny Gothel, of all people, looking down at her.

  “Don’t you guys clean up nice,” Ginny sneered, crossing her arms and studying each of them in turn. “What do you call that?” she asked, pointing at Mal’s outfit.

  Mal flushed. “Preppie punk,” she explained. She was wearing a purple argyle sweater underneath her favorite jacket, along with a clean denim skirt and boots.

  “Huh. I’m not sure I’m a fan, but then Auradon style is best for goody-goodies. So, what are you guys doing back here?” Ginny asked, her arms crossed and a skeptical look on her face. “Slumming?”

  “Visiting,”
said Jay. “Which reminds me, I should probably go check out the Junk Shop and let Dad know I’m here.” He waved and quickly jogged away.

  “Yeah, Evie and I are gonna head over to our side of the island,” said Carlos, as they peeled away from the group.

  “Going home too, are you, Mal?” asked Ginny. “What would your mom say, I wonder, if she could talk again? To see that her nasty little girl grew up to be so good?” She shook her head. “If you can change, I guess they’re right, there’s hope for all of us,” Ginny said in a soft, sweet voice, batting her eyelashes mockingly.

  “Who’s they?” asked Mal, but Ginny, apparently bored with the conversation, was already walking away.

  Evil Queen had been exiled to the farthest, most remote, and practically abandoned part of the island, so by the time Evie and Carlos made it past Woeful Way and turned onto Hell Street, both of them were panting from the long walk. Without the fear of Maleficent, chaos had settled upon the Isle of the Lost and it appeared even the island’s mostly undependable, rinky-dink transportation system had completely broken down. The goblins had abandoned their rickshaws, which were left to rust on the side of the roads.

  Everywhere they went, they were met with frowns and scowls. Evie tried not to look too nervous for Carlos’s sake, since he was obviously extremely uncomfortable with all the attention.

  It didn’t help that she was also exhausted and her feet hurt. Evie told herself exercise was good for the skin, and wiped her forehead with her handkerchief. She was still wearing her fancy dancing shoes with the high heels, and she almost fell in relief when they finally reached the familiar tall, gray stone walls of the Evil Queen’s castle. Then she remembered she was afraid to face her mother.

  She knocked on the heavy fortress door. “Mom?” she called nervously. “Um, it’s me? Evie! Are you there?”

  “It looks deserted,” said Carlos, glancing askance at the cobwebs and dust.

  “Oh, it always looks like this,” Evie assured him. “Mom’s big on personal maintenance, but housekeeping, not so much.

  “Let me see if I can find the key,” she said, walking over to the nearest wall and feeling for a brick that had come loose. “Here it is,” she said, holding up an ancient rusted key. “Maybe she’s out getting ready for the Anti-Heroes meeting?”

  “Maybe. Wow, this place really looks like no one’s lived here for centuries,” said Carlos as they walked inside.

  Evie bristled. “It’s the height of Gothic style!”

  “More like the bottom of it,” said Carlos, scrunching his nose.

  “Okay, fine, maybe it is a bit dark and dreary,” said Evie, who had never been too bothered by the gargoyles and cobwebs until now. She looked around. Hmm. Maybe Carlos was right. It was a little dustier than she remembered. She took another step and sneezed.

  “I’ll wait here,” said Carlos as Evie went off to check the bedrooms.

  “Mom?” she called, gingerly stepping into the Evil Queen’s room. Her mother kept it the way it had always been, when she had been queen of her kingdom and bent upon destroying Snow White. There was a dark silhouette in the middle of the room where the Magic Mirror used to hang before it had been broken into pieces, and a little podium in front of it where her mother would pose and preen, as if the mirror were still there to showcase her reflection.

  The closet doors were open, blue gowns and black capes in disarray, white ruffs strewn over the floor. Her mother’s traveling trunk was missing from the topmost shelf, and from the looks of the mess, Evil Queen had packed in a hurry. That was odd; where had she gone? Didn’t she have to be back in time for the meeting tonight?

  Evie noticed something else. In the center of her mother’s dressing table was a large ebony box, one that Evie knew well. Her mother had schooled her in the art of beauty regimes from the pots and brushes, paints and blushes, eye makeup, foundation, and mascara in that very chest.

  It was strange. Her mother had left behind her most prized possession? Where could Evil Queen have gone without her makeup?

  Evie walked down the grand staircase, still sneezing from the dust. She couldn’t believe they had lived this way for so long, forgotten and unloved.

  Carlos was nowhere to be found. Evie got a little worried and called his name, but there was no answer. Where was he? Evie didn’t scare easily, and she was in the house she had grown up in, but it was strange to be here all alone, without her mom bustling around and pressuring her to try the latest exercise fad. She didn’t even know where to start looking. The castle was so big that Evie never even knew how many rooms it had. She and Evil Queen had mostly stayed in the main area in the middle.

  Maybe he was outside. She walked out the front door. “Carlos?” she yelled again.

  “Over here!” he called. He was all the way on the other side of the castle, hidden by the overgrown weeds. In the moonlight, she could barely make out the tips of his black-and-white hair.

  She walked over and found him standing in front of a series of stone steps that led to a cellar door. “Well, this is the place all right,” he said, pointing to a sign that was hung on the front.

  ALL ANTI-HEROES WELCOME,

  MEETINGS ARE SATURDAYS NEAR MIDNIGHT

  How strange, Evie thought, and for a moment wondered nervously if Evil Queen was just out at the market buying provisions for this very mysterious gathering.

  “Is anyone inside? I don’t even know where that door leads,” she told him.

  “No, I don’t hear anything,” he told her. “Any sign of your mom?”

  “No.” Evie told him what she found in the room. “It looks like she went away somewhere. She took her trunk, but left her makeup behind. But maybe she’ll be back for the meeting?”

  Carlos nodded. “Come on, let’s go check out my place. Hopefully we’ll be just as lucky there.”

  “But we didn’t find my mom,” said Evie.

  “Exactly,” said Carlos.

  Hell Hall was built in the style of an elegant Victorian mansion. Of course, since it had been transported to the Isle of the Lost, it was nothing but a rotting shell now. Carlos let them in through the side door. So far, everything was as he remembered. Cruella’s mean-looking red sports car was parked in the garage, covered by a canvas sheet. The kitchen was still decorated in black and white tile, the refrigerator nearly empty. He peeked into the living room, and saw that it was exactly the same—the broken-down furniture covered with dusty white cloths, the standing knight’s armor they kept in the hallway still rusty, the wallpaper still faded, and there were still holes in the plaster molding.

  “Mom?” Carlos whispered.

  Evie nudged him. “She’s not going to hear you that way. Louder.”

  Carlos tried again. “Mom?” he croaked.

  “CRUELLA? ARE YOU HERE?” Evie yelled.

  Carlos almost fell to the floor in fright. “Don’t DO that! Or at least warn me first!”

  The kitchen was untidy, with dirty dishes in the sink and crusted food on the counter. Carlos began cleaning up almost automatically. It had been his job to keep house when he lived there. Cruella spent her days eating waxy old chocolate bonbons and watching the Dungeon Shopping Network.

  “Doesn’t look like anyone’s been here in a while either,” said Evie, sniffing. “I think I’m allergic to the Isle,” she said apologetically.

  “There’s only one way to find out. Wait here,” said Carlos. He steeled himself and went through the hidden passage to Cruella’s treasured fur closet.

  There was no way his mother would leave without her precious furs. They were all she cared about in life. He flung open the door and gasped. They were all still there—mink and ocelot, beaver and fox, rabbit and raccoon, sable and skunk. Alas, not one Dalmatian coat; Cruella’s greatest regret. But he noticed that her rollers were missing from their case in her dressing room, along with the small overnight bag she often used when she went to visit the spa in Troll Town. (Apparently trolls were talented masseurs, due to their larg
e hands.)

  He walked back to the kitchen, where Evie was seated on a stool, blowing her nose. “She’s gone?” she asked.

  “Looks like it,” he said, opening the cupboards for more clues. “And the milk in the fridge expired three months ago.” He picked up the box and shook it so its contents sloshed. “Curdled.”

  “But the milk’s always expired when we get it.”

  “Oh, right, I forgot,” said Carlos, who wanted a huge delicious glass of fresh milk right now. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow move across the kitchen window and jumped. “Who’s there!” he called.

  No answer.

  “I thought I saw something,” he muttered, and not for the first time, he wished they were back home safe in Auradon. This wasn’t home anymore, and it probably never had been, not really.

  “She leave any clues?” Evie asked.

  “No, just her furs,” said Carlos.

  “Interesting. But isn’t Cruella obsessed with her fur coats?” asked Evie, who had once been stuck in that very closet, until Carlos rescued her from its bear traps.

  “Obsessed is putting it mildly,” said Carlos.

  “Evil Queen left her makeup, and Cruella de Vil left her fur coats,” said Evie. “But they’re definitely both gone. Maybe they thought they would be back quickly. I mean, they should be at the meeting tonight, right? Otherwise why would they leave the things that mattered to them the most?”

  Carlos didn’t point out how insane it was that cosmetics and furs were what mattered the most to their mothers. He was used to coming in second in Cruella’s affections—make that third, after the car. Probably fourth, after the wigs, if he was being truly honest.

  A twig snapped outside. This time Evie heard it too.

  “Who’s there?” Carlos called again, opening the door. “Show yourself!” he said, even though he was shaking in his boots. He wished Mal was with them. Everyone was scared of Mal.

  He heard snickering in the bushes, and whispering. “It’s him, it’s really him. And her, I think that’s her. The pretty one.” Two figures stepped out to the light. One was tall and skinny and the other was short and round.