The jellyfish’s skin expanded to encompass her entire body. She stood, placing one hand against the side of the bell to steady herself. The only sound was the soft patter of water dripping off her clothes. The air was warm and smelled of roses, though not overpoweringly so. The sides of the bell breathed in and out ever so slightly.
Her legs trembled with sudden exhaustion. She sank down, then flopped onto her back. She couldn’t run or fight or swim or plan any longer. The relief of being somewhere that wasn’t the ocean was immense. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. More than anything, she wished she were back home in her bed, snuggled down warm and safe under her pile of faux furs, with Cake asleep in the dresser drawer beside her.
When she opened her eyes, one of the black fish things was floating almost directly above her face. It stared down at her, the tips of its feathers quivering. It radiated tranquility. One of its feathers dipped down and touched her forehead.
A heavy, comforting weight settled over her body. She glanced down. A blanket had appeared on top of her—and not just any blanket, her blanket, her favorite from home. She sat up in shock, clutching at the fur. It looked right, felt right, even smelled faintly of stale meatloaf. She glanced back at the fish thing.
“You know what I’d really like?” She enunciated each word carefully. “A cup of hot energy drink. Honey flavor. With whipped cream. And sprinkles. And marshmallows.”
The fish thing touched her forehead again and a steaming mug appeared in front of her eyes. Fionna reached up and wrapped her hand around it. It was warm, and the fragrant steam filled her nostrils as she took a deep breath.
“Wow.” Fionna ran a finger around the rim of the mug. “I wish . . . Cake was here,” she said slowly.
A dark shape grew out of the floor. Slowly it changed shape. It grew pointed ears and a pair of almond-shaped eyes in a face that was a pretty good likeness of Cake’s. Then it slumped to the side. Three arms extended out of its sides and tails grew the entire length of its spine. Maybe it was having trouble mimicking both Cake and her shape-changing abilities. Its mouth melted as it opened.
“Bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee,” it said as its jaw pooled on its liquescent feet.
“Oh dag, forget it. Thanks but no thanks. I don’t want to see Cake anymore.” Cake’s form melted back into the jellyfish’s side.
“Hmmm . . .” Fionna glanced at the fish thing as she slipped off her hood and wrung out her hair. “Do Gumball, but with three heads. And make him sing.”
Gumball’s lanky body grew up out of the floor. For a minute he stood there, handsome and regal looking. Bulbous growths developed on his head, one on each side, just above his ears, and each of the growths turned into a new head. Each of the heads’ mouths opened and a warbling birdsong emerged from their throats.
Fionna took a sip of her drink. “This is so wrong.” She waved her hand. “Okay, enough, enough. I . . . probably shouldn’t tell anybody about this.”
She pulled the blanket around her shoulders, tucked her legs up to her chest, set the mug on her kneecaps, and thought. Anything she asked for appeared, more or less. Though the jellyfish seemed to have less trouble with inanimate objects than people. Cake and Gumball certainly hadn’t been real, though thankfully her blanket and drink appeared to be. She frowned and watched the fish things. She counted them. There were ten. But when she’d first entered the jellyfish’s bell, hadn’t she only counted six? Where had the other four come from?
One of the fish things floated to the side of the bell, brushed up against it, quickly sank into the pinkish flesh, and disappeared. Fionna’s eyes widened. She’d thought the fish things were independent organisms, perhaps some kind of parasite, but were they actually part of the jellyfish, like blood cells or boogers? She downed the rest of her drink and squashed a series of tiny Marshall Lees that she conjured up out of the floor. If she could control the inside of the jellyfish, was it possible she could control the outside as well? She jammed her thumb down onto one last Marshall Lee and set down her mug. As soon as she let go, it disappeared into the floor. The same thing happened when she set down the blanket. She stood and willed a plushy green chair into existence, then sank back onto its cushions with a sigh.
“How about a window?” she said, stretching her arms out on the padded armrests. A large picture window opened in the jellyfish’s flesh. Outside, the storm raged on, lightning and rain and wind, and thank glob she wasn’t stuck out in the middle of that mess anymore.
A tray table swelled up out of the floor and produced a paper bowl full of fresh french fries. The jellyfish was still floating along, tentacles trailing through the water. Fionna crammed a fistful of fries into her mouth. They were perfect—crispy, mealy, hot, with a dash of salt and the subtle heat of garlic. Her thoughts raced as she chewed, swallowed, and stuffed more fries into her mouth. She only needed to know one thing: was the jellyfish completely dependent on the wind, or could it move under its own power? Fionna wiped her greasy fingers on her shirt and leaned forward in her seat.
“Go up,” she whispered.
There was a pause, and then the ocean began to recede.
“Yes!” Fionna shouted. “Go to the right.” Slowly, the jellyfish moved in the correct direction. She took a breath. “Okay, jellyfish. Do you know where my friends are?”
The jellyfish hung, wavering, in the sky, as if processing her request. Would it be able to do what she wanted? Could it find something in the real world? Maybe it could only create copies.
A fish thing floated up to Fionna and rested one of its feathers on top of her head. After a moment, the others swam a lazy circuit around the inside of the bell. They came to a stop almost directly behind Fionna. The jellyfish swung around, its window turning to face the direction the fish things had indicated. The storm was finally starting to break up and streams of light poked through the thinning clouds. East. A red arrow formed on the window, pointing slightly to the right.
Fionna jumped up out of her chair. “Mathematical!” A gracefully curved pink crystal saber sprouted like a sapling from the floor beside her. She grabbed it. It was as light as a feather, with perfect balance. She brandished it at the window. “Take me to the Marshall Lee!”
Chapter 10
The jellyfish flew at a speed that surpassed Fionna’s wildest expectations. In less than an hour, they floated above Marshall’s ship, which had dropped anchor in a cove between two small sandy islands. A hole opened in the center of the floor, and Fionna knelt beside it, staring down at the Marshall Lee. The pale blue water glittered in the sunlight. She didn’t see anyone on deck—she supposed it was possible that Marshall and his crew slept during the day. She’d assumed his crew was alive, but they could just as easily be ghouls. Fionna frowned as she considered her options.
On the one hand, it might not be a bad idea to keep the jellyfish handy, in case she needed anything else. But on the other hand, she didn’t like the idea of keeping it separated from its swarm longer than was necessary. Besides, it wasn’t like she could count on the plant sap to protect her forever.
Fionna checked the sword she’d slung across her back to make sure the straps were secure. “I guess I’m gonna head out now.” She patted one of the fish things on the head. “Thanks for everything, dude.”
She glanced at her hands, evaluating how much of the sap remained. Enough to protect her as she climbed down?
A pair of brown leather gloves popped out of the floor beside her. Fionna grinned. “You’re the best!” She slipped them on—they fit perfectly—leaped out through the hole, grabbed onto one of the tentacles, and slid smoothly down it. She landed in the water with a splash.
There was no reaction from aboard the ship. No one poked their head over the railing or raised an alarm. Marshall obviously hadn’t bothered to set any lookouts.
“Arrogant,” Fionna muttered as she let go of the tentacle. Treading water, she wave
d good-bye to the jellyfish. It floated away, back up into the sky, while Fionna breaststroked to the anchor and grabbed onto the thick, barnacle-encrusted chain. The water was practically balmy, as warm as bathwater, and so clear she could see straight down to the clean white sand interspersed with mounds of pink and blue coral. She refused to think about what might be in the water with her. Placing her hands carefully to avoid cutting her palms on the barnacles, she shimmied up the anchor, then its chain, and flipped herself up over the railing. She landed on one of the lower decks. She crouched on the sun-warmed planks, heart pounding.
No one came to investigate. All she heard were the ship’s creaks and groans.
She scrambled to her feet and flattened herself against the wall. She had to find Cake and Gumball. She crept to the first door, took a breath, and wrapped her hand around the cool brass knob. She was on the ship’s sunward side—she felt braver with the light on her back. She twisted the knob gently to the right. The door swung open a few inches. Fionna peered inside. Light fell around her, into the darkened room. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust, and when they finally did, all she saw were stacks of wooden crates. “Cake!” she whispered. “PG!” No one answered. Fionna shut the door and thought. She couldn’t very well check every single room on every single level of this boat. It would take forever and, unless she got very lucky, she’d probably get caught before she managed to find her friends. It wasn’t going to stay light forever. She guessed she had maybe another three hours before nightfall.
Fionna chewed her lower lip. Wait. What was it Marshall had said when he’d taunted her? He’d mentioned needing a new pillow. Her stomach sank. Suddenly she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, where Cake was.
She glanced at the sun. As long as there was daylight, there was a good chance she could get one over on Marshall.
Probably. Maybe. If she was lucky.
“Yeah, super lucky,” she muttered.
But what was her alternative? Find Gumball first, and see if he could help her? He hadn’t exactly struck her as a rough and tumble kind of guy. What could he do—bake Marshall to death?
Baking . . . Marshall had seemed like a practical person, at least as far as half-demon Vampire kings went. He’d probably assigned Gumball to the galley.
It was worth a look, she decided. Chances were she’d find the galley long before she reached Marshall’s cabin. And who knew, maybe she was being unfair to Gumball. He might not turn out to be as useless as she’d anticipated. After all, he’d been pretty handy with the survival gear when they’d been stuck in the lifeboat. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, sucking air through her nostrils, searching for anything that smelled like food.
At first all she could smell was saltwater and warm, oiled wood. Then, so subtly that at first she almost missed it, she caught a whiff of something warm and sugary. Baking cakes.
She drew her sword and ran, following that thread of scent. It led her along the side of the ship, up one level, and straight to the doors of the galley. She peeked in through the blue double doors and saw Gumball, alone, and hard at work stirring a batch of pink batter in a big orange bowl.
“Algebraic!” she whispered. It was so awesome when her hunches turned out to be correct. “Hey, PG!”
Gumball dropped the bowl onto the floor. It shattered with a huge crash, spattering his legs with batter. “Fionna!” he exclaimed. “What are you doing here? Where’d you get that sword? And what are you covered in?”
“Glob, Gumball, shut up!” Fionna said, rushing into the galley and pulling the doors shut behind her. “Where is everybody? Asleep?”
Gumball nodded. “They all turned in a little before sunrise.”
“What about Cake?”
Gumball shrugged. “I’m not sure. Marshall took her with him.”
Great. Just what she’d been afraid of.
“Okay, get over here, and let’s go get her, and then get the hell out of here.”
“That would be awesome, but there’s one problem.” Gumball lifted his right leg, and only then did Fionna realize he was chained to a big staple that had been driven into the wall. Fionna groaned and knelt beside him, examining the thick iron shackle.
“There’s no keyhole,” Gumball said, “or I definitely could have picked it by now. I know a lot about locks.” He grabbed her gloved hand as she reached out to touch the smooth band. “Be careful. I think it’s magic. I tried to chip at it with a knife a couple of times and it shocked me.”
Fionna stood and held her sword out over the chain. “Let’s see if this’ll do the trick.”
Gumball’s eyes widened. “Hey, wait,” he said as she drew back for her swing. “Are you sure that’s the best—”
The blade came whistling down, struck the chain and, in a shower of white sparks, sliced it cleanly in two. Gumball yelped and stiffened as the sparks shot up his body, before dissipating off the top of his head.
“Ooo, sorry,” Fionna said. Every strand of Gumball’s pink hair stood on end. “You okay?”
Gumball’s teeth chattered. “F-f-f-fine.” Fionna smelled something like sugar burning. Wisps of smoke rose from his head. Fionna patted at his hair, trying to smooth it back down. It felt like straw.
“Little conditioner, I bet it’ll be fine,” she said with a weak smile. “Can you walk?”
Gumball took a few stiff, halting steps, then reeled into the table.
“Hey there!” Fionna grabbed at his arm, pulling him back onto his feet. “Good thing that was bolted down, huh?” Fionna slung Gumball’s arm over her shoulder and dragged him toward the galley doors. She propped him against the wall and dashed over to a stool with narrow, spindled legs. It had been screwed into the floor near one of the counters. She chopped at the legs with her sword, hacking the stool to pieces.
“Fionna, what are you going to do? Even if we get Cake, we’re still stuck on this boat.”
“It’s daytime.” Fionna sheathed her sword and picked the longest, most jaggedy-ended piece of wood from the pile. “I’m gonna stab me a Vampire.”
Chapter 11
“This is a bad idea, Fionna,” Gumball whispered. They stood before the door to Marshall Lee’s cabin.
Fionna hefted the stool leg. “It’ll work. Once I’ve staked Marshall, his ghouls will keel over dead, too, and we can take over the ship.”
Gumball swayed a bit. He gripped the doorframe to steady himself. “Have you killed a Vampire before?”
Fionna rolled her eyes. “No, but I’ve read a lot about it.”
Gumball coughed. “Touché.”
“Just wait here and stay quiet.”
“I’m not an idiot. I think I can manage both those things.”
Fionna eyed Gumball. “Just don’t be a hero.” Holding her rudimentary stake out in front of her, she gripped the doorknob. “I’ll be right back.” She pushed the door open a few inches, slipped inside, and let it swing shut behind her. It was nearly pitch black inside. She held her breath. She heard low, steady breathing.
Marshall.
She blinked and the blackness separated into different shades of gray. Fionna crept forward, skirting around the long table and chairs, careful not to bump into anything. She remembered there being a berth toward the back of the room, directly underneath the huge picture window. It was possible Marshall slept like a bat hanging from the ceiling, but then why even bother having a bed? She inched forward another couple of inches, coming in sight of the bed, and froze.
Heavy velvet curtains covered the picture window. In the thick shadows below, Marshall lay in bed, tucked under a patched quilt. Just as she’d feared, his head rested smack on the middle of Cake’s pudgy back. Cake’s arms dangled over the edge of the bed.
“Cake,” Fionna whispered. Cake’s eyes opened. Fionna grinned and pointed at the stake, then made a few quick stabbing motions in the air. Cake’s eyes wi
dened. Fionna tiptoed forward and stood over Marshall. His chest rose and fell. Her hand felt hot and sweaty around the stake. Could she really stab someone to death in their sleep, even if he was a self-professed super evil, half-demon Vampire king?
“Oh schlub, how much longer are you going to stand there?” Marshall asked, opening his eyes. Fionna yelped and stumbled back as he sat up. He yawned and stretched. “You’re seriously mucking with my beauty sleep.”
“H-how long have you been—”
“Awake? Since you opened the door.” Marshall pushed back the covers and, in one smooth motion, hopped out of bed, Cake tucked under his arm. He plucked the stake from Fionna’s nerveless fingers. “You want to surprise a freakin’ Vampire king, you’re going to have to get a lot better at sneaking around. You sound like a herd of elephants.”
Fionna flushed and ripped her sword from its sheath.
“Oh please.” Marshall sighed, tossed the stake over his shoulder onto the bed, and flicked his fingers. Fionna’s sword wrenched itself out of her hands and slammed point first into the wall. He smiled, radiating smugness. “It’s going to take more than that to put a dent in the chiseled perfection of my exterior.”
Just then, the door crashed against the wall. Gumball, flailing his arms over his head, lurched into the cabin. Marshall Lee hissed and fell back.
Fionna took her chance—she lunged across Marshall’s bed, grabbed a fistful of drape, and yanked as hard as she could. There was the soft purr of cloth tearing, then late-day sunlight flooded the room as the drape crumpled across the bed.
Howling, Marshall Lee bent double, hands pressed against his eyes. Wherever the sun touched him, his skin sizzled and smoked like pork in a frying pan.
Fionna grabbed Cake’s hands, yanked her away from Marshall, and ran for the door. “Gumball, come on! Let’s get out of here!”
Epic Tales from Adventure Time Page 5