The Dreadful Tale of Prosper Redding

by Alexandra Bracken

  It was like a little electric zap. I could feel Al’s entire spirit clench and shudder when the bells played. The pressure in my legs and good arm released, like he had lost his grip.

  “And if he can’t sleep at night, he’ll have to sleep during the day, or he’ll be too exhausted to take over,” I finished. “Nell, that’s genius.”

  “The class bell made me remember last week—it’s just too bad it’s an annoying beeping and not a true bell sound.” She grinned. “Anyway, it’s just a temporary fix for now. Be careful a teacher doesn’t catch you with it, or they’ll take it away.”

  Hey, I wasn’t going to complain about a temporary fix. Even a little bandage can stop a cut from bleeding.

  The day got so much better once I knew I could give Al a friendly little jolt. I slipped the bud in and out of one ear when I saw the teachers weren’t looking. In between classes. When I just wanted to feel him squirm.

  The only class I begged out of was PE, which Coach didn’t really appreciate. But how could I run with my injured hand? Nell had asked. What if his future track star never fully mended? What if he couldn’t run come spring? (Nell was really good at acting.)

  I sat beside Parker on the sidelines in awkward silence before working up enough nerve to ask, “How’s your ankle?”

  The other kid grunted. “You care?”

  “I just…never mind. I just feel bad, okay?” I said, watching the other kids run by. “I feel like it’s my fault.”

  It is.

  Those two words from Alastor came like a kick to my chest.

  “Nah,” Parker said with a long sigh. “It’s not. I knew it was stupid of me. Just trying to prove something, I guess. But it’s just the latest in a long string of bad luck.”

  Hmm.

  My heart was in my throat when I asked, “What do you mean?”

  “My dad lost his job, my parents are divorcing, I might have to get surgery on my ankle, which means I might not be able to run track for a few months,” Parker admitted, his voice tight. “But it’s fine. It will be fine.”

  Al. I could barely get the thought through my mind. Did you do this?

  Of course I did, Maggot, as did you. Luck isn’t infinite. Even in this form, even limited to your body, I can manipulate those close by. To gift you luck, it first needed to come from someone else.

  For a second I was sure I was going to throw up.

  I didn’t ask you to do that! I thought, furious.

  But you enjoyed it, didn’t you? Al sounded almost wistful. Tell me, do you think you truly are a good artist, or that I helped to align the right pieces to convince other people they were seeing something great when it was only truly mediocre?

  I stood suddenly, feeling like my entire face was on fire. I mumbled some excuse to Parker and the coach about needing to use the bathroom. Once I was in the empty locker room, I collapsed against the nearby wall, shaking.

  Stop pretending to feel sorry! Al hissed. Stop pretending to be anything other than another Redding wretch!

  “I wish I had a singing bone,” I muttered. “So I could figure out when you were telling the truth—”

  What did you just say? Alastor’s voice jumped in pitch again, alarmed.

  Singing bone? I repeated. What about it?

  No, nothing—nothing at all. He sounded relieved. But where did you hear such a thing? A…dream, perhaps?

  Now it was my turn to be alarmed. Yeah. You didn’t already know?

  I cannot see your dreams when I, too, sleep.

  Wait—what was it that Uncle B and Nell had told me about fiends and their realm? That they traveled between mirrors…

  And used dreams to communicate.

  “Do you think it was one of your siblings?” I whispered. “Trying to tell me something? Something like, oh, I don’t know…your name? Do I need to find a singing bone in order to reveal it? I’m sure that Nell and Uncle B could help with that too—”

  Rather than wind him up, my words only seemed to deflate that anger and glee I’d felt running through my veins and nerves all day.

  Prosperity, he began, taking on an even more formal tone. There is something I wish to say to you. I ask for a moment of your consideration, for I believe we are in grave danger.

  It was hard not to roll my eyes at that one. Are you asking for a truce?

  Alastor snorted. If you wish to call it such. A temporary understanding.

  Fine. What is it?

  The malefactor took his time making sure his words were as dramatic as possible. As both of our lives depend upon it, I must ask you to reconsider the trust you have placed in the little witch and your uncle. I do not think their aim is to help you.

  Well, it’s definitely not to help you, I shot back. Why am I supposed to trust you over them?

  Because our lives are tied together. What befalls me, befalls you. I speak to you now in all honesty, as if you were my own brother.

  “You hate your brothers,” I muttered.

  Well. We cannot choose our family, as you yourself are well aware. Last night proved my suspicions to be true—as I said, I do not think they wish to help you. I think they mean to keep us imprisoned here in this city, while they wait for someone—or something else.

  “What makes you think that?” I whispered.

  The howler. They are controlled by whoever sits on the Black Throne. Did you not notice that we are still alive? The fiend repeated its command to find and take me. These beasts are trained to kill or retrieve wayward fiends who have snuck into the human realm and threatened the balance of life.

  The balance of what? How was it possible this kept getting worse and worse? Wasn’t there a limit to how awful things could get? A rock bottom we could hit before heading back up?

  Each kind of creature—human, fiend, specter, and Ancient—is bound to its own realm, for if too many of one kind pass into a realm that is not their own, the balance is thrown, and the realms collapse on themselves. This is the one law we are all bound by, and the sole reason for the howlers’ existence.

  That dog could have easily killed us last night, I thought. Or dragged us back to the fiend realm, right?

  The moment we passed the threshold of the house, it backed away, even before the changeling, yes? It has been ordered not to attack us while we reside there. This only proves the witch and your uncle’s involvement to me. If they themselves cannot control it, then they are allied with the one who can.

  “They’re my family.”

  Ah yes, family. You and I both know how dangerous a family can be.

  After PE, Nell went to her last class, theater. But instead of heading to art, I returned to my old friend, the library.

  “Singing bone,” I muttered, sitting down at one of the open computers and logging in. “Singing bone, singing bone, singing bone…”

  Stop this at once, Maggot. You meddle in matters you do not understand.

  Why would one of your siblings try to contact me? Why would they use that phrase?

  It’s as I’ve told you: my brother, the one who betrayed me to the witch Prufrock, is determined to make sure I do not return Downstairs to reclaim my throne.

  So they are trying to lead me to your true name.

  Alastor, as expected, said nothing. But I could feel his own thoughts spooling as I loaded the Internet browser.

  So. Three people—well, living creatures—knew Alastor’s true name. His brother, who then gave it to Goody Prufrock. And Alastor himself.

  And my mother, Maggot, who whispered it into my ear as a child. She’s been gone for centuries, however.

  And the only other person who knew Alastor, or at least of Alastor, in our realm was…Honor Redding.

  If I couldn’t get access to Goody Prufrock’s grimoire in the Cottage, then maybe Honor’s journals were the next-best thing.

  I quickly typed in the address for the Redhood Museum, clicking over to their special-collections section. My great-great-grandfather had bequeathed Honor Redding’s journals
to the museum to keep and preserve, and the museum staff had taken nearly a decade to scan and enhance them enough for visitors to read. I’d never looked through them, mostly because I hadn’t cared enough to try.

  Someone, at least, had taken the time to transcribe the faded, tiny cursive writing from the scanned pages into normal text below. We arrived in America this day past, and already trouble is upon us….

  I skipped ahead, through a number of entries charting rampant sickness, cold, and the colonists’ inability to grow the crops they’d brought with them. The first mention of the tide turning was a hastily scribbled Fate has brought us a boon, we shall survive, we shall survive, we shall survive!

  And then four weeks of entries were missing. If that “boon” was Alastor, then the details of his contract with them had been torn out of the journal, if it had ever been noted at all.

  What was he like?

  You speak of Honor?

  I was a little surprised Al answered.

  Yeah. He must have been a terrible person to do the things he did.

  The malefactor was quiet for a long time before he finally said, The man was a fobbing plume-plucked hedge-pig, but he…When we first met, I…liked him fine. I respected his ambition and the way he led the settlement—these are not easy things, you understand. But he turned out to be the same as all men. His taste for power turned into a hunger, and he was not strong enough to stop himself. It is the nature of human hearts to be weak.

  Were you friends? I asked. The portrait of Honor Redding at the Cottage showed a glowering old man, but it had been painted almost a decade after his death. He looked like the kind of guy to go around stomping daises. I couldn’t imagine him having heart-to-hearts with a fluffy white fox.

  No! This time, Al answered a little too quickly. I do not form lasting bonds with my future slaves.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I muttered.

  Prosperity, it is not too late for us to leave this place. In four days’ time, my power will be at its peak, and I will be free—which means that whoever is trying to kill me, and therefore you, will show themselves before that. I am willing to make an agreement with you—not a contract in the strictest sense, but a gentlemen’s agreement. If you are willing to escape this village and these people, I will grant your family one year to enjoy their power before I send it crashing down around their ears.

  “There you are!”

  I quickly closed out the browser before turning in my chair toward Nell. She was panting, her shoulders heaving as she tried to catch her breath. I opened my mouth to ask her what was wrong, but she knocked the words off the tip of my tongue with a swat to the back of my head.

  “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

  “Don’t you have theater?”

  She turned my head toward the clock on the wall. For the first time, I noticed that the library was empty save for me and a librarian reshelving books.

  “I lost track of time,” I said.

  “No kidding,” she said, grabbing my bag. “Come on—we have to run to catch the bus.”

  But the buses, every last one of them, were already gone. The sky itself was darkening quickly, and the only brightness was my white breath fogging the air.

  “Okay…I know you said you’d never call for a car…” I started, arms crossed over my chest. I only had on one of Nell’s old fleeces, and it was just barely keeping me warm enough. “But what about calling Uncle Barnabas? Or Missy? Or Mrs. Anderson?”

  “He doesn’t have a car,” she said. “We had to rent one to go rescue you.”

  Mrs. Anderson had, of course, gone home. And Missy didn’t pick up any of the times we called her.

  “We’ll just walk far enough to take one of the city buses,” Nell said.

  If she could tough it out, then so could I. It also helped to remember, after walking a few blocks from campus, that I had a built-in internal furnace with Alastor inside me. He might have stunk to high heaven, but at least I was radiating enough heat that none of the snow falling from the trees stuck to me.

  We stopped at a corner, waiting for the light to change. A few cars zipped by, two slowing to turn left into a nearby parking lot. And when they did, it gave me the perfect view of the snarling black howler waiting for us across the street.

  By the realms…

  The walk signal flicked to the white guy and Nell stepped off the curb. My hand shot out and caught her arm, hauling her back onto the pavement.

  “Hey! What are you—Prosper?”

  Run, run, run, run! Al chanted. I barely heard Nell’s gasp.

  “What do we do?” I whispered.

  The walk signal began to flash orange, chirping in warning. A line of cars was building up, waiting for the light to turn red. I started backing away from the sidewalk, taking Nell with me. There was a roar of an engine as the white car in front jumped forward with the green light. And by the time the last car cleared, it wasn’t just the one howler that was waiting there for us. It was three.

  They all charged at once, ignoring the cars blitzing past. The drivers couldn’t see them as the howlers clawed and climbed their way over their roofs. The people in the cars were freaking out as the dogs’ bodies slammed into them, denting the metal and sending them spinning like toy cars.

  That’s when we started running.

  Let me—let me take control, Prosperity. I can get us out of this again. Give it to me! Give me control!

  “What about Nell?” I gasped out.

  “What about me?” she shouted.

  The first dog was almost on us, snarling. I felt its acid spit spray the back of my shirt. Nell had wanted it to get that close—she turned, reached into her pocket, and threw a huge handful of dizzy dust right in its eyes.

  It skidded to a stop, shaking its huge head and rubbing at it with its paw. The others tore past it and got the same treatment, but they weren’t down as long.

  “By my flesh and by my bone, turn this creature to living stone!”

  If that was supposed to be a spell, it didn’t do anything.

  No spell will harm them, they must be banished back to the Third Realm! Tell her!

  “You…believe him?” Nell was panting hard. “We need to get back to school or get home—or Missy’s? Anywhere that has a protection spell!”

  “Missy’s is closest!” I shouted, dodging through the trees.

  Let me run! Let me run! I can save us, just—

  “Okay, okay,” I said. “Nell, get on my back!”

  She shot me a strange look. “Excuse me?”

  “Piggyback! Now!”

  It was awkward considering she was two inches taller than me, but the second I felt her arms around my neck, Al was ready.

  I wasn’t about to ask any questions, and neither was Al. It was like being at the wheel of a speeding car. He was the engine, and I was the driver, and somehow we were working together perfectly.

  I didn’t look back when I heard the howling start. The second my feet hit the next street, I launched into a jump. Al knew what I wanted to do and kicked in the power I needed. We went soaring over a house and people shoveling snow in their backyards, arcing across the moon itself before landing on the other side of it.

  Everything looked different in the dark. Nell pointed us in the right direction, through the right cluster of trees. I tore through them, letting the branches snap against my face. The old Victorian house was a glowing blur in front of us, getting bigger by the second.

  The windows were lit but the curtains were drawn. I leaped up the stairs, grateful that Missy’s protection spell let me pass without trouble. We went crashing through her front door, spilling into a heap amid the stacks of books.

  “—dare tell her, I will destroy you—”

  “Destroy me? As if you could—”

  That sounded like…

  “Barnabas,” Nell muttered, closing her eyes.

  But instead of hearing the whimper of a big, ugly dog getting thrown around by Missy’s rosebushes, ther
e was a heavy click, click, click of claws against her porch. When Nell and I looked back, we could see one of the howlers standing on its hind legs, peering down at us through the glass of her front door. Another one of them pushed the first down to get a look into the shop.

  “Who’s there?” a woman called. “Nell, is that you?”

  Nell darted forward, turning the lock. The howlers banged their heavy bodies against it, splintering the wood.

  They are here for me.

  “For us,” I muttered.

  I was right—it was Uncle Barnabas. He stormed down the stairs after Missy, his face red with fury at the sight of us there, in her shop, where he’d expressly forbidden Nell to go.

  “I can…I can explain,” I tried. “But—”

  The glass door shattered into a million pieces when the first howler crashed through it.

  Make haste! Alastor yelled. Leave this place!

  Uncle Barnabas threw himself against the wall, nearly falling over himself to get back upstairs. Missy dove forward, reaching for Nell as she all but climbed a mountain of books, knocking over a pile of them. “Nell!”

  “Here! Missy, I need your help! I can’t reach it—”

  The howler growled, pawing at the glass. The other two followed it inside, all slinking muscles and moon-white teeth.

  “Nell…” I called. “Whatever you’re doing, can you please hurry it up!”

  “Distract them!”

  “Seriously?” I said. “Seriously?!”

  I did the only thing I could—I started throwing whatever was in reach, which happened to be books, and lots of them. I might as well have been tossing feather pillows. The books whacked into their skulls, all right, but the howlers didn’t even flinch. In fact, I kind of thought they were…laughing at me. They made this awful chu-chu-chu noise, tossing their heads. One even caught a book between its teeth and snapped it clear in two.

  The leader of the pack went stiff, its ears perking up. Then it pounced. My skull knocked flat against the tile, making stars explode in front of my eyes. It didn’t matter. All I could see were teeth—hundreds of sharp, slobbering teeth. The howler’s claws pinned me where I was, sinking into my shoulders until I couldn’t hold in my cry.