Midnight Law

by Geanna Culbertson

  Magdalin laughed as if Jason had told a joke. “Lucky for you, I am familiar with many different time zones. The Giants’ Keep runs about twenty times faster than the O.N.C.”

  Jason looked to Chance. “That’s Oz, Neverland, and Camelot. Those realms run four and a half times slower than ours, which means . . .” He did the math in his head. “The Giants’ Keep runs four and a half times faster than Book. Nine hours here is like two on our timeline.”

  “That’s great news,” Girtha said.

  Chance stood, causing the demon dog at his feet to get extra excited and wag his tail. “Okay. We’ll bring you the magic flute. Then we get the flame. Deal?” He stuck out his hand.

  “So formal,” Magdalin said, but she shook Chance’s hand. “Yes. That is the deal.”

  We trailed Chance to the door. The demon dogs pursued us devotedly. Jason tried to pet another one, but the creature darted away from him.

  I knelt to pat each of the three dogs obsessed with me before we departed. They nearly peed themselves with joy at my touch. “What’s the deal with these dogs?” I asked.

  “They’re Guilt Hounds,” Magdalin replied. “They’re a rare, magical breed, used by the police in our villages to sniff out anyone acting suspicious. The dogs are drawn to the smell of guilt. They really seem to like you three.” She pointed a bony finger at Chance, Girtha, and I.

  My face suddenly got hot and I stood. Chance, Girtha, and I looked at each other. Then we glanced back at Magdalin and she gave us another toothy, overly happy grin.

  I read the wooden sign hanging outside the boot aloud: “The Little Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe – Bed & Breakfast.”

  My friends and I stood in front of the tall brown combat boot at the edge of Dashi Valley. It had eight floors and who knew how many rooms. For a boot inherently designed to be rugged, the owner of this business sure had amped up the cuteness factor. All the windows cut into the shoe featured white lace curtains. Colorful flowerbeds surrounded the perimeter. A porch swing and garden had been built into the space between the boot’s heel and the rest of the sole.

  A cobblestone path and tall, old-timey lanterns led up to the front door, which Jason proceeded to knock on. The sounds of children playing and laughing could be heard coming from the inside. The smell of soup poured out of the ground floor open windows.

  After a moment, the door opened and a woman with a face as round and inviting as a sugar cookie stood in the entrance. Her short white hair matched her apron, though the latter had been inadvertently decorated with splotches of red, yellow, and orange sauces. Though old, the woman was not hunched over or bony like Magdalin. Rather, she was full of gusto and natural energy.

  “Oh, hello! Welcome to my inn! Come in, come in,” she said, ushering us inside.

  We stepped into the boot bed and breakfast. I leaned in close to Jason and whispered. “I hope it’s not bootleg.”

  He smirked.

  The woman shut the door and gestured for us to gather on the only empty floral print couch in the sitting room. The others were occupied by couples and groups chatting, reading, and drinking warm beverages from green mugs.

  Wood floors had been built over the shoe’s sole. Paintings of babies playing in gardens decorated the walls. On the left, a large staircase twisted upward into the leg of the boot to the other floors. Near the stairs children played with blocks or chased each other around with plastic toy horses. To our right I spotted a check-in desk with cubbies for room keys. A pair of female teenagers sat behind the desk—one gabbing while the other filed her nails.

  Just then a trio of young men wearing aprons as stained as our hostess’s emerged from a side door with platters in hand. A blond boy came over to us, presenting golden meatballs with a little toothpick sticking into each one. He set the platter on the table in front of us.

  “Please enjoy our complimentary Happy Hour,” he said. His smile was even warmer than the steaming appetizers. “These are our pineapple teriyaki meatballs.”

  “Thank you, Ben,” our hostess said. The young man departed, and the woman stood in front of us with her hands folded. “I am Hildegard Swanson. You may call me Grandma Hilde; everyone does. What brings you children to Dashi Valley?”

  Girtha opened her mouth, but I held up a hand and gave her a cutting look before turning back to Grandma Hilde. “Business,” I responded on the group’s behalf.

  “How professional,” Grandma Hilde said cheerily. “What a treat to have young entrepreneurs staying with us. If I could just see your IDs, I’d be happy to get you some rooms.”

  “We are friends of Magdalin’s.” I tilted my head at Grandma Hilde. “She said you’d take care of us.”

  Grandma Hilde’s face shifted slightly, taking on the tiniest amount of fear. “Oh . . . I see. Well then, your rooms are on the house. Follow me and we’ll get you checked in.” She scurried over to the reception desk and snapped her fingers at the two teens. One scampered away, while the other put down her nail file and sat up straight.

  I grabbed a meatball on our way to the desk, popping it into my mouth. My eyes widened.

  Holy jamoca, that is AMAZING.

  Grandma Hilde looked at the logbook the girl presented her with and furrowed her brow. She glanced up at us. “I do not mean to be intrusive, but I don’t suppose there are any couples in your group?”

  “Absolutely not,” I said tersely.

  Jason shot me a pained look. “Was the ‘absolutely’ really necessary?” he muttered.

  “Sorry,” I mouthed. And I really was. My reaction had been an embarrassed reflex. Instead of dealing with the awkwardness of that, I pivoted back to our hostess. “Why do you ask?”

  “We only have three rooms available and there are four of you.”

  Girtha glanced at me. “You and I could—”

  “Pass,” I interrupted. I readdressed Grandma Hilde. “Can I camp out in your lobby?”

  “Chance and I can share a room,” Jason said. He looked at Grandma Hilde. “Thank you. We may not stay the full night anyway. It depends on how we decide to . . . handle our business. We’ll keep you posted.”

  “Fine. Here are your keys.” Grandma Hilde handed keys to me, Girtha, and Jason. “One room is on the seventh floor; the other two are on the second. Apologies in advance for any noise those of you staying on the second floor may hear around four o’clock in the morning. Many of my grandkids and great grandkids head to work at that time for their jobs with the giants.”

  “What kind of work?” Girtha asked, interested.

  “Very important work,” said Grandma Hilde proudly. “Dashi Valley is the closest Human-Only Zone to the Giant King’s palace.” She tapped both her shoulders, kissed her fingers, and pointed at the ceiling—some sort of symbolic gesture, I guess. “Long may he reign.” She straightened her apron. “Their shift starts at sunrise when the Giant King,” she repeated the gesture, “long may he reign, starts his day, and it takes an hour to get there by TRAM from the nearest Service Exchange Zone. So again, apologies for any noise at that early hour. Now then, I have some cooking to do. Enjoy your time with us, however long that may be, and let me know if we can do anything for you. And as you are friends of Magdalin’s, I do mean anything.”

  The four of us gathered in one of the bedrooms on the second floor. Jason sat on the bed, Chance had situated himself in an armchair, Girtha stood by the door, and I sat on the windowsill. Darkness had fully settled outside.

  Jason’s axe sheath rested on the end table beside him. I noticed him staring at it periodically. He loved that axe, but it once belonged to his brother. I guess with all the stuff about Jack that had been stirred up, it complicated Jason’s view of the weapon. I worried about him, but I wouldn’t ask him about his feelings in front of the others.

  I reached over and grabbed another meatball from the platter I’d positioned on a table beside me. Before leaving the lobby, I’d snatched the tray. One of my better decisions on this quest so far.

  Chan
ce gave me a look. “I’m not sure you were supposed to take those.”

  “Ben did say it was Happy Hour. These make me happy. They are fulfilling their destiny.”

  “Yeah, but I think they were meant for everyone.”

  “Not everything should be meant for everyone,” I said, plucking another morsel from the tray and gesturing with it. “Meatballs, leading quests, making life or death decisions, catching sacks of magic sand when people throw them to you . . . lots of things really.”

  Chance’s face soured and he shut his mouth. Mission accomplished.

  “On to more important matters,” Jason said curtly. “I hate that we have to do this, but we need to decide how and when we’re going to break in to the Giant King’s castle.”

  “We should do it in a few hours,” I asserted. “If the Giant King gets up in time for sunrise, he probably goes to bed early. I also grabbed this from the lobby.” I pulled a crumpled pamphlet out of my pocket. “It’s the Dashi Valley TRAM schedule. Service Exchange Zones are the depots where the TRAMs arrive and there’s one within walking distance from here. It runs every hour on the hour from 4:00 a.m. to 9:00 p.m.” I gestured at the room’s wall clock, which told us it was just past seven in this realm. “We can go over there, hide in the castle, wait for the giants to fall asleep, get this magic flute, hide out until morning when the first TRAM arrives, and come back here. Easy.”

  “I think I may have a better plan . . .” Girtha ventured.

  I raised my eyebrows then rotated from my feet-up position on the windowsill so that I faced her directly. “Do you now? This should be good. I didn’t know you made plans on your own. I thought when not supervised by others you were a spur of the moment, act first and screw people over on accident kind of girl.”

  “Blue,” Jason warned.

  I waved my hand at Girtha. “Proceed.”

  Girtha’s face flushed, but she took a deep breath and continued. “I think that we should take the TRAM in the morning with Grandma Hilde’s family. She said to let her know if we need anything. Let’s ask if we can take the place of some of those kids on their shifts. It will allow us to be welcomed inside the castle, rather than having to sneak in. Working there during the day will give us access to explore different areas, which is helpful since we don’t know where the Giant King keeps this flute. And we can probably get helpful tips about the palace and the giants from the kids on our way there.”

  “That’s a great idea, Girtha,” Chance said.

  “You’ve got to be joking,” I said. “Off the top of my head I can think of at least six reasons that’s a bad plan. Starting with—how is it smarter to go inside a castle full of awake giants than going in when they’re all asleep?”

  “I see your point, Blue,” Jason said. “But Girtha’s plan has other advantages. We don’t know how hard it’ll be to break into the castle. Like she said, we have no idea where the Giant King keeps his magical instruments. And frankly, after my brother’s break-ins, I have a feeling the giants may have installed some security measures to prevent unwanted entry.”

  “Which we can handle,” I asserted. “Bottom line—conscious giants are more of an obstacle than breaking-and-entering in the dead of night. If we were caught, we’d never be able to outrun them. Plus, Girtha’s ‘plan’ requires that we wait until morning, whereas my plan lets us act now.”

  “Taking action now may not be the shrewdest thing,” Girtha said.

  “Really?” I asked. “You’re going to lecture me about the dangers of immediate action? Did my previous sarcastic comment not get my opinions of your thought processes across?”

  “Why don’t we vote?” Chance said. “All those in favor of Girtha’s plan, raise a hand.”

  Girtha raised her hand. So did Chance. Then Jason did too.

  I gave him a disgruntled look. “Seriously? We’re going to waste so much time.”

  “But with the time zone conversion, we can afford it,” Chance said.

  “Hush, Chance,” I replied. “I wasn’t talking to you. Let the more qualified questers discuss this.”

  “Blue, we already discussed it,” Jason said, narrowing his eyes at me. “Just because you don’t trust Girtha’s and Chance’s contributions doesn’t mean I feel that way. Stop letting your anger color your judgment. They’ve made mistakes, but you’re not perfect either, and you know it. Why else would those Guilt Hounds have been drawn to you?”

  My throat tightened. At a loss for words, I did the only thing I could think of that allowed me to evade the issue. I snatched my backpack and started for the door.

  “I’m going to my room.” Then I backtracked to grab the meatball tray. “Don’t follow me.”

  I stormed out and moved fast, trying to outrun the metaphoric light that Jason and those hounds were trying to shine on something my conscience kept trying to keep buried.

  At quarter to eight, I decided to make my move.

  I had taken the room on the seventh floor. Not wanting to risk running into anyone, I climbed out my window and descended the thick laces of the boot with ease. It was like a crisscrossed ladder. My feet hit the dirt and I started walking in the direction of the TRAM station. If I hustled, I could make it before the next transport left.

  I did not agree with our team’s plan. I did not want to give Girtha or Chance the benefit of the doubt. And honestly, I did not want to be around them right now, period. I could do this by myself. My magic powers worked here, and they arguably made me more powerful than Jason, Girtha, and Chance combined. I’d get this flute and earn the flame for us on my own. Maybe this contribution would alleviate some of the guilt those dumb hounds had sniffed out.

  My path to the TRAM station took me into another part of the forest. It seemed normal at first, but bright lights emanated from the trees ahead and what I eventually found blew my mind.

  WHOA.

  It was like the forest was hosting a rave. Everything sparkled—from the glowing pink foliage to the fox-sized fluorescent teal caterpillars crawling up tree trunks to the dirt and grass beneath my feet. It was as if neon fairy dust had rained from the clouds and coated the land. The environmental glamour stood out intensely against the black sky poking through the canopy.

  I’d been keeping a pretty fast pace since I left the inn—trying to move on my solo plan before anyone noticed I was gone—but as I wandered through the glimmering forest, my heart felt less in it. My emotions were catching up with me in a non-helpful way. I paused in a clearing, the captivating nightlife shimmering around me, but my heart weighty and bleak.

  I was sad and I was mad. At the others and myself.

  The feelings made my body seem heavy and I leaned against a shining tree. Then I took off my backpack and peered inside. White light shone from the main compartment. I pulled out the object responsible. Crisa’s wand. It glowed in the dark. I held it up and stared at it. My vision of Crisa from my slumber in Bermuda replayed in my mind.

  “So you’re not still mad at me for taking the Shadow to save you?”

  “No. I get it.”

  “Are you still mad at yourself?”

  “What?”

  “You brought Crisa’s wand,” Jason said.

  I jumped in surprise. He, Chance, and Girtha stood less than ten feet away. They must’ve followed me. I quickly shoved the wand back in my bag.

  “That’s why you’ve been so weirdly attached to that backpack,” Jason realized, walking over.

  I sighed. “Crisa’s risk of being corrupted is way higher because of the Shadow inside her, right? So the sooner she gets rid of it the better. I figure when we find her we can drive the Shadow out of her with her wand. That’s how she got the Shadow out of her brother—direct contact with an object of immense sentimental value. There is no object that Crisa values more than this.”

  Jason nodded. “That’s a brilliant idea. You should have told us about it.”

  “Why?” I swung the backpack onto my shoulders beneath my cloak again and paced to the
center of the clearing. I wasn’t ready to be near them, not even Jason.

  “Because we’re a team, you lunatic,” Jason said. “When are you going to realize that? Not telling us about the wand is one thing, and a discussion we can continue later. I can’t believe you were going AWOL tonight to try and retrieve the flute on your own.”

  “My plan is better,” I insisted. “Maybe it doesn’t give us the intel or easier access that Girtha’s plan does, but I have a gut feeling that this is what we should do.”

  “You and your gut feelings,” Girtha responded dryly.

  “Do you have something to say?” I challenged her.

  Girtha stepped forward to meet me in the center of the clearing. “We followed your crazy idea for self-sacrifice when you insisted you had to give Rumpelstiltskin your name. That worked out, but we can’t follow your risky instinct every time. There’s too much at stake with our own lives and Crisa’s. If you’re wrong, then we won’t save her and we’ll all end up dead.”

  “Girtha, I’ve been friends with her way longer than you have. You may be a main character back home, but in this storyline, you’re a supporting character at best. So stop acting like you have as much of a say here as the rest of us.”

  The hard resolve on Girtha’s face melted. She kind of looked like she wanted to punch me, but she also looked like she wanted to cry.

  “Blue,” Jason said, suddenly behind me and putting his hand on my shoulder. “Maybe you should take it easy.”

  I turned and glowered at him. “Why?”

  “Because you need to get over yourself,” Chance responded, coming to square off with me. “I get it, Blue. Girtha and I both do. You’re protective of her because you’ve been closer longer and you’ve had stakes in the game since the beginning. But just because we weren’t an integral part of this story when it started doesn’t mean we can’t influence the outcome. And it doesn’t mean we don’t want to.”

  I took a deep breath. My fists were clenched tight—the tightest they’d ever been. Yet I felt like my heart and my memory were clenched even firmer. They didn’t want to loosen even a little because if they did, the truth those darn Guilt Hounds had detected would slip out and I wouldn’t be able to hide anymore. I wouldn’t be able to deflect or blame anybody else for another moment and then that would mean . . .