by Nic Saint
Severin nodded. “An apt punishment for their heinous crimes.”
“It’s going to be pretty crowded down there,” she said. “What with Virgil Scattering, the Number family and Chief Whitehouse still locked up.”
He shook his head. “They’re no longer prisoners of Allard. Virgil Scattering and Curtis Whitehouse are enjoying much loftier companions than the dungeon rats of Allard. And as far as the Numbers goes, very soon now they will enjoy their first breath of fresh air since they fell through the cracks of this world and into mine.”
Her lips creased into a wide smile. “So you’re releasing them?”
“Yes, I am. Or it would be more correct to say that I’m releasing the Number family. Your lovers have managed to escape the dungeons of their own accord, which is a testament to their determination and my negligence for not taking away their weapons when I sentenced them to prison before.”
She laughed. “You can’t keep a good Happy Baysian down, Severin.”
The golden man now directed a look at the others, all gathered around, and said in his deep, authoritative voice, “You’re all invited to Allard.”
Felicity’s father held up his hand. “I think I’ll politely decline, Severin. I’m not in the mood to visit your dungeons, I’m afraid.”
But Severin smiled. “No dungeon for you, Peter. Today you’re all invited to join in the celebrations at the castle. Allard is going to be all right, and it’s all thanks to these brave men.”
At this he gestured at Chazz, Jerry and Johnny, who still looked quite dazed. The rain had finally stopped, and for the first time since this ordeal began, the sun came peeping through the deck of clouds, warming the earth. “It’s this rain,” said Chazz in his defense. “I didn’t see where I was going!”
“And a good thing, too,” said Severin, “for if you had, you might have missed the man who singlehandedly almost brought both Allard and Happy Bays to its knees.”
Chazz frowned. “So that guy I hit…”
“He was pure evil,” said Felicity. “You saved all of our lives, Chazz.”
“What do you know?” he asked, dumbfounded. “So I did good?”
“You did what you were supposed to do,” said Severin. “Guided by your inner light you righted a terrible wrong today.”
Chazz seemed unsure about this whole ‘inner light’ thing, but when even Rick gave him a bone-crushing hug, he finally seemed to realize he wasn’t going to go to jail for murdering a man with his reckless driving.
“Name your reward, Chazz Falcone,” said Severin. “Ask me anything and your wish will be my command. For I’m rejoicing in Allard’s rebirth.”
Chazz eyed him thoughtfully. “You know, there’s one thing I would like more than anything.”
“Name it and it will be yours,” said Severin simply.
Chazz’s lips quirked up into a grin. “Now I don’t know if this is possible, but if you could make me president of this realm, you’d make me very happy.”
“Oh, come on, Dad,” exclaimed Rick. “That’s not fair.”
“Done,” said Severin curtly, ignoring Rick’s outburst. “You, Chazz Falcone, will be the next president of the United States.”
“Oh, God…” Several Happy Baysians could be heard groaning in agony.
But then Chazz held up his hands. “I’ll be the best president I can be!” he said with a sly grin. “Isn’t that right, boys?” he asked Johnny and Jerry, who also stood grinning in the knowledge that their boss had just secured top billing in the race for the White House.
“Sure, boss,” said Johnny. “You’re my number one!”
“That’s right,” echoed Jerry. “Chazz Falcone for president!”
Severin raised his hands again. “You’re all invited to Allard! So gather around, people, for we’re leaving right now!”
He seemed so much nicer than before, Felicity thought, and she said as much to her mother now, whose hand had stolen into hers.
“Oh, but Severin is very nice,” Mom said. “In fact if I wasn’t married already I might consider him for a husband!”
“Mom!” Felicity cried, but then had to laugh when she saw that her mother was smiling widely.
“Do you think he’s married?” asked Marjorie. “What?!” she added when the others all turned to her with falling jaws. “I’m a widow! I have needs!”
“And here I always thought Virgil was the only man in her life,” muttered Alice.
“Can’t wait to see this castle, guys,” said Reece, clearly not interested in Marjorie’s love life or that of Felicity’s mother. “I’ll bet it looks great!”
They all watched as Severin unearthed a small disk from some unseen pocket of his spacesuit and lobbed it into the air with a casual flick of the wrist. And as he did, it swelled up into the huge flying disk they’d all become so familiar with. When he noticed their consternation, he grinned and said, “All aboard!” And before Felicity knew what was happening, the entire gang had been transported into the giant flying disk.
If she’d expected it to look like a spaceship, she was greatly mistaken. Instead, she found herself inside what looked like a giant ballroom. Sumptuous carpets covered the marble floor, exquisite paintings of what she guessed was the Allardian royal family adorned the gold-papered walls, and ornate crystal chandeliers hung suspended from the ceiling, projecting their bright lights over the small gathering standing in awe below.
“Wow,” said Alice suddenly in a low voice. “This place is like Versailles.”
“A room befitting the King and Queen of Allard,” Felicity’s dad said.
She noticed her clothes had turned dry the moment they entered Severin’s spaceship, and now she figured this wasn’t a spaceship at all but a transportation mode between the dimensions in which their worlds existed.
But then a hush descended over the company, for Severin had reappeared, looking radiant now, and as he addressed them he said, “I wanted to thank you all for your help. And as a special treat I can promise you now already a long and fruitful life and success in any endeavor you undertake. Allard,” he added with a slight gesture of the hand, “awaits you!”
At this, a section of the ‘ballroom’ slid open, and Felicity saw they’d arrived at their destination. And as she stepped from the vessel, it was as if they’d entered a different, better world, with a fairy tale castle rising up above them, and a small fairy tale town basking in the sun at their feet.
“Oh, my God! We’ve arrived at Disneyland!” Alice gasped.
Chapter 27
Virgil stared out across the vast expanse of room that stretched between himself and the actual throne, and thought he could detect on the other side a welcoming committee patiently awaiting his and Chief Whitehouse’s arrival.
There were mirrors placed along the walls, and the floor was an impressively polished parquet. Along the gilt walls, portraits of the royal family were placed, and never had he seen a more hideous collection of bearded ghouls than the male descendants of the first ruler to come out of the House of Hodd. He just hoped what awaited them on the other end of this throne room would be more agreeable than the men staring down at him and the chief as they traversed the length of the room.
The liveried servant who’d escorted them here and had opened the door for them with a flourish, had been wearing what looked like a powdered wig and a supercilious expression on his pale face, and it was obvious he felt they weren’t worthy to be even seen in the presence of his overlord and master.
And as both men’s regulation police footwear clacked on the parquet floor, Virgil was reminded of the fact that his feet were killing him. Already he’d walked from the dungeons to the castle, then up the stone steps leading to the ornate front door, and the slow slog through the many rooms the castle held—all deserted and all unheated. His only thought as they traversed the incredible acreage was that this place must cost a fortune to heat and he was glad he wasn’t the one having to spring for it on a policeman’s salary.
/> As far as he could ascertain the windows were all single glazing and the walls not insulated according to modern standards. The chief’s only remark had been a sort of snuffle, as if from some wild animal like a boar or a bear, of which he saw many heads stuffed and suspended over cold fireplaces.
The chief seemed to have fallen under the dark and gloomy castle’s spell, for even though he’d never been a motormouth to begin with, now his conversation had slowed down to a trickle of the occasional snort or grunt.
But bravely the two men trudged on. You don’t get invited to the royal palace and then decide to forgo the invitation merely because your feet hurt and the place looks about as welcoming as Count Dracula’s Romanian keep.
Happy Bays’s finest are made of sterner stuff, and when finally they’d managed to cross the large hall and arrived at journey’s end, Virgil saw that only one single person awaited them on the other side: a young woman of slight aspect with fair hair, pale blue eyes red-rimmed as if after a bout of crying and her mauve brocade-and-lace dress in slight disarray, as if her lady’s maid had unexpectedly given notice and left her post that morning.
She was still an exceedingly beautiful young woman, and Virgil, never at ease in the presence of female beauty, felt his cheeks redden, his lower jaw droop and his courage make a dash for the exit. As a consequence, it was two mute members of the HBPD who stood before Princess Tabitha now, and conversation would have been in short supply if she hadn’t decided to carry the bulk of it.
“My mother and father wish to be excused,” she opened the proceedings. “They haven’t been feeling well, as you can readily understand under the circumstances. Allard has been under attack, and we’re not coping too well.”
She had a soft melodious voice, that tinkled through Virgil’s soul like a feather gently stroking his skin. It had a musical quality to it, even though it lacked the vim and vigor usually associated with the ruling classes. Still, she carried her head high, and was obviously a proud and regal woman.
“So you are the representatives of Happy Bays who wished to have a word with me?” she continued. “Please proceed and state your case.”
“We’re police officers from Happy Bays, ma’am,” the chief stated when Virgil remained mum, still drinking in this princess with greedy gulps.
“Royal highness,” Virgil muttered.
“Thank you,” the young woman said, “for your regard to the rules of etiquette. Though I must admit that something of the luster of Allard’s royal family has waned in recent years. Are you acquainted with Peter Bell by any chance, men of Happy Bays?”
Both Virgil and the chief nodded immediately.
“Peter Bell the First enchanted me with his pastry. It was simply divine.” She’d folded her hands in her lap and bowed her head slightly, as if on the verge of tears. The throne on which she was seated was an ornate affair and one of a matching set, Virgil now saw. It was inset with sparkling stones and either solid gold or gold-plated. In any case it wasn’t something they sold at IKEA, he was sure of it. Taken in conjunction with the beautiful woman seated on it, he had the distinct impression he was way in over his head here.
“Pete’s son now runs Bell’s Bakery,” the chief now said a little gruffly. “And his pastry is pretty damn good, you’re right about that… your royal highness.”
For some reason this statement now brought real tears to the princess’s eyes, and Virgil cursed the chief for his harshness of tone. This was no way to speak to such a frail and delicate woman. He, for one, could not stand idly by and watch a woman of such remarkable beauty cry, so he took out the handkerchief his mother insisted he always carried, the one with his name sewed into the seam, and went down on one knee as he did so.
“Here you go, your royal highness,” he said valiantly, like a knight offering his lady his sword after a particularly trying duel. He was waving the handkerchief like a flag now, and added, just to be clear, “To dry your eyes.”
Princess Tabitha studied the handkerchief, all rugged white linen, and hesitated. It wasn’t that it looked soiled or used, for Virgil rarely had cause to blow his nose in the course of duty, but she probably was more used to silk hankies lined with lace. Then, seeming to feel beggars can’t be choosers, she took the proffered gift and dabbed it at her porcelain skin, mopping up the crystal tears that were glistening there as just so many dewdrops.
“Thank you, Mr…”
“Scattering,” he said. “Virgil Scattering at your service, your highness.”
She gave a single nod and Virgil rose to his full yardage once again, and as he rose up, Tabitha’s eyes followed his progress. Others had called him a stick insect or, even more unkindly, likened his appearance to a grasshopper, but in Tabitha’s eyes suddenly a light shone as she let her eyes rest on his tall form. To the casual observer it would have become instantly clear that this light was the love light. Gallantry was not a thing of the past in the kingdom of Allard, but it had been in short supply lately, due to other, more urgent matters rendering it of less importance than the mere need for survival.
And now here was this man who seemed imbibed with the chivalrous spirit through and through. Not many men these days, the light in Princess Tabitha’s eyes seemed to indicate, possessed the simple civility to offer a lady their handkerchief when in such obvious distress, and it touched her heart.
“We’re very sorry about your plight,” the chief said, casting a censorious look at his subordinate. “We’ve heard about the trouble that has befallen the House of Lobb and the Royal Realm of Allard, and it has deeply touched us.”
She expelled a tremulous sigh. “It is a terrible tragedy. I asked you before if you knew Peter Bell, for it was with him that all our trouble began. But then, of course, I would be remiss not to acknowledge my own careless role in our demise. It was I who offered Peter Bell assistance out of the goodness of my heart, and my genuine admiration for his baking prowess. Little did I know that he would betray my trust and abscond with my ring, the source of Allard’s power. You see, in our tradition it is the heir to the throne who carries the future of Allard on her finger.” She hung her head again. “If only I hadn’t been foolish enough to part with it. We have a tradition of lending the Ring of Hodd to those we deem worthy, if only for a brief period of time, and it never occurred to me Peter would decide to keep the ring for himself.”
“He shouldn’t have done that,” agreed the chief, who’d always been a strong proponent of law and order. Stealing a ring was not something he could condone.
“It was the first time I ventured into your realm and the first time I was led to offer the ring to someone other than an Allardian,” she continued. “Several expeditions have been sent to Happy Bays over the years to try and retrieve the ring, but it seems to be lost forever, our realm doomed to slip away into obscurity and eventually fall prey to the one Allardian who seems to grow stronger with each passing year.” She glanced at Virgil. “You may have heard his name whispered in the dark corners of our kingdom. He is called Mortdecai and is our self-declared nemesis. A mere guard who has usurped our powers to create his own realm while draining Allard of its resources.”
“The nasty brute,” said Virgil feelingly.
“He should be punished severely,” the chief agreed.
“I’m gratified you feel this way.” She hesitated. “Are all Happy Baysians as concerned with truth and justice as you are? For it was my impression Pete Bell represented the entire realm with his slyness and his lack of honor.”
“Oh, no,” both Virgil and the chief were quick to point out. “We’re not like that at all.”
“I’m all for justice,” the chief said vehemently. “No sneak thief should be allowed to act with impunity. Though it surprises me Pete did this to you. He always struck me as an honorable man, as does his son and granddaughter.”
A cold look came into the princess’s eyes. “Yes. Felicity Bell. According to my information she is your lover, isn’t she, Mr. Scattering?”
/> Virgil’s ears, one of his more distinct features, turned a pretty crimson as he vehemently stated in stentorian voice, “I can assure you that Felicity Bell is not my lover! She’s just a girl I know from, well, from kindergarten, and a dear friend. But she’s engaged to be married to another man, and I have nothing to do with her whatsoever. My heart,” he said, casting a wistful look at the princess. “My heart… what I mean is… my heart… darn it, what I mean to say is that my heart…”
“Will go on,” muttered the chief, who knew his classics, and seemed to feel that all this touchy-feely stuff was beyond the scope of this visit.
“What about your heart, Mr. Scattering?” inquired the princess, tilting her chin and looking quite haughtily down at the police officer now.
Virgil swallowed, his Adam’s apple gamboling freely as he thought of a way to convey that his heart had just sworn its allegiance to this remarkable woman, but since he wasn’t the kind of man who wore his heart on his sleeve and never less than now, when standing before one he considered the queen of her sex, he merely gulped a few times, and then was silent once more.
“Oh, for the love of God,” cried the chief, throwing up his hands. He directed a keen look at the princess. “What this nincompoop is trying to say is that his heart belongs to you now, your royal highness.” He seemed surprised by his own outburst, for he now frowned and looked away. Therefore he missed the look of rapture that had suddenly come into the haunted eyes of the princess, and the light of love once again burning brightly there as she gazed upon the tall police officer standing before her throne.
“Are you quite certain?” she asked a little stiffly, addressing Virgil.
“Yes, I am,” he said softly, and if he’d still worn his cap he would have taken it off and twisted it round and round in his hands as he looked down at his feet now, fully in the throes of an intense feeling of embarrassment.
A smile lit up the princess’s features, and wiped away the trouble that had seemed imprinted on her beautiful face. “I… I will fetch my mom and dad,” she now said, looking at Virgil almost shyly. “They… they must be told the news…”