by Caleb Krisp
“And what of Miss Frost?” I said.
“I will make sure no harm comes to her. You have my word.” Justice Hallow glanced back at Rebecca. “As for the girl, she is far too weak and would not survive the crossing. I will ensure that she has every comfort.” She pushed the sceptre at me again. “So, Ivy, what’s it to be?”
“Say yes,” said Rebecca, her voice ringing with urgency. “You must be with your mother, Ivy, for nothing else matters.” She nodded. “Accept the offer and go home.”
“Listen to the girl,” said Justice Hallow.
I took the royal staff from Granny’s hand. The crowd let out a mighty cheer. I checked my watch. Seven minutes left. Then I stepped past my grandmother and stood at the edge of the terrace. The boisterous throng fell quiet.
“The portal has been poisoned,” I said loudly.
The crowd erupted in furious chatter. Then Justice Hallow lifted her hands, and they fell silent. I looked down and saw Miss Always, dripping wet, standing by the monument. I thought in that moment of my mother. Of going home. Of old friends. And finally, of doing what I had to do—no matter the consequences.
“Miss Geraldine Always is the poisoner,” I declared. “I saw her do it.”
The gathering exploded with a wail of righteous anger. The mob turned on Miss Always, pointing, pushing, and shouting. Miss Always looked up at me in bewilderment. I glanced at Justice Hallow and saw the wicked delight on her smooth face.
“At least, that is what my grandmother wanted me to tell you,” I said next, using the sceptre to point at the old rotter. “But the truth is, it was Justice Hallow who poisoned the portal!”
“Well done, Miss Pocket!” cheered Miss Frost.
Gasps and cries of disbelief rang out across the great lake. I glanced down at Miss Always—she offered the faintest of smiles and a small clap.
Justice Hallow was now at my back. “Do not do this!” she hissed.
“The reasons why are rather ugly,” I continued, ignoring the villain, “but the only way I can really explain it is this—she wished to punish her daughter. My mother ran away from Justice Hallow, many of you must know that. And why does a child run from her mother right when she needs her the most? Because her heart was cold. Because her heart was closed.”
I saw heads bobbing. And murmurs of agreement. I looked at my watch. Four minutes left.
“The girl is a liar!” thundered Justice Hallow.
“Earlier today, Granny tried to kill me,” I said just as loudly, “so that I would never be able to rid you of the Shadow—which I did rather brilliantly, you must admit.”
“God bless you, Queen Ivy!” shouted a delightful young girl. And others soon joined in. Wonderful peasants!
“What I do now,” I said next, “I do for the good of Prospa and its people.” Then I spun around and threw the sceptre as hard as I could. It twirled through the air and hit my target in a brutal fashion. Professor Finsbury cried out as the gun was knocked from his hand and flew across the terrace. He clutched his hand, whimpering like a hungry puppy.
“Get her!” barked Justice Hallow to her guards.
One guard lunged at Miss Frost—but she made short work of him, clocking him in the face, then sweeping him from his feet. Then the other guards did something astounding—they stood down. Refused to attack Miss Frost or me or Rebecca.
“Traitors!” spat Granny.
“Miss Pocket, watch out!” cried Miss Frost.
I turned just as Granny charged toward me—she had pulled a dagger from one of the Orange Coats and had it lifted, poised to strike. Her face glowing with rage and hatred. I froze in that moment. But Rebecca didn’t. She was already running. Diving to the ground and catching Justice Hallow’s leg. Granny stumbled. Which gave me time to twist around, thrusting my boot into her buttocks—sending her tumbling down the cracked stairs. Granny landed facedown. But quickly rose to her feet, a large gash on her cheek. The crowd closed in around her, calling her a host of rather unpleasant names.
“You wretched fools!” she hissed at them. “I have kept the best of you alive, and this is my thanks?”
Miss Frost picked up the sceptre. Handed it to me with a bow of her head. “Queen Ivy.”
“For my first and last ruling as monarch,” I said, turning back to the crowd, “I pass this glorious stick to Miss Frost and declare that as I must return to my world. She is now the Queen of Prospa. Long may she reign and whatnot.”
The poor woman looked positively stunned. I practically had to force the sceptre into her hands. “Are you sure?” she said faintly.
I shrugged. “You can’t be any worse than Granny.”
A tremendous roar, a great wave of joy, swept up from the concourse. It was so loud I almost didn’t hear the clock tower chiming the hour. It was noon.
“Ivy, you have to go!” shouted Rebecca.
“It is too late,” bellowed Justice Hallow, pointing at me. “You will never get home! You will never know your mother!”
I met her gaze and held it. “Just watch me, you mad cow.”
But she never got the chance.
I heard startled cries. Then saw Miss Always leaping out of the way. I wasn’t at all sure why. Then the solid silver statue capped by an enormous Clock Diamond came down. Right on top of Granny. The poor fossil had just enough time to twist around and throw up her arms. Then the stone smashed into the ground with her underneath, cracking the green bricks on every side. Then the cheering began. But it was brief, as the ground shuddered violently. One of the pillars holding the roof above our heads split open, sending great clumps of stone to the terrace floor.
“Come, Miss Pocket!” shouted Miss Frost.
I might have felt a tinge of sorrow for my dead grandmother. For how she hated me so very much. And what a waste all that bitterness was. But by then we were running at speed into Prospa House—the terrace crumbing behind us.
“It is noon,” I shouted. “The hour is up!”
“As long as the tremors continue, the portal is still alive,” said Miss Frost.
We tore down the hallway. Prospa House trembled. Walls were cracking. Windows shattering. Plaster dropping from the ceiling. The portrait of Justice Hallow lay in ruin on the dusty carpet. We rushed down the back stairs. Through the labyrinth of corridors. Then down the spiral staircase and into the darkened chamber. The windowless vault smelled stupendously awful.
Rebecca ran first to the pool of murky water. Miss Frost and I were by her side in seconds, followed by two guards now loyal to the new Queen. The water was a sickly purple. Only the odd bubble rising from below. “Is it still alive?” I said. “Is it still open?”
“I believe so,” said Miss Frost. “But not for long.”
Rebecca clutched my hand. “Oh, Ivy, we are going home!”
“Didn’t I say that we would?” I said brightly.
The walls groaned and shook. Therefore I got straight down to business.
“There is a boy called Amos Winter,” I said, turning to Miss Frost. “He is a young man of great courage and spirit who had brains enough to bring my natural remedy to the city today. I would like you to take him under your wing.”
“I will see what I can do,” said the ginger queen.
“Now to Miss Always.” I thought of everything that had happened today. All that I had learned about that evil librarian. So I said, “She was married?”
“Briefly,” said Miss Frost. “The marriage was conducted at her fiancé’s sickbed—Edward died that very night. I don’t suppose Miss Always ever recovered.”
I suddenly remembered the picture at Miss Frost’s house—of Miss Frost and her brother and Miss Always. And the tree house with the initials carved into it. “Was the young man she married your brother, dear?”
Miss Frost nodded. Closed her eyes briefly. “As for Miss Always’s fate, it was her perseverance and belief that proved you were the Dual. Her contribution should be honored and her cruelty punished.”
“How?”<
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“Since Miss Always has an appetite for power, I shall make her my minister for waste disposal.”
I frowned. “What on earth is that?”
“The sewerage plant on the outskirts of the city. The conditions are rather grim.”
“Just to be utterly clear,” I said hopefully, “you do mean poop, don’t you, dear?”
Miss Frost allowed a faint smile. “She will hate every second of it.”
It’s entirely possible that I squealed then. But not for long—as the curved ceiling began to crack. A handful of bricks dropped like rain. I wondered if the entire city would fall in a heap. Miss Frost read my mind.
“The ground will settle once the portal is closed,” she said.
“The remedies!” I shouted, ashamed that I had not thought of them sooner. “Justice Hallow had them sent away—we must find out where they are so that they can cross back with us!”
Miss Frost was shaking her head. “They were taken to an infirmary several hours from the city. It is too late to bring them home, Miss Pocket—in your world their bodies are gone, and they would be no more than a soul.” She saw me looking thoroughly outraged and lifted a hand. “But as they will no longer be needed as remedies, I promise you they will spend whatever time they have left here as honored citizens. We owe them that.”
And I knew she meant it. But it took a moment for Miss Frost’s words to truly sink in. When they did I was frowning, looking at Rebecca in bewilderment. “If you return to our world, you will not be alive,” I said, still unable to believe it. “You will only be a soul.”
“I know,” said Rebecca softly.
I gasped. “Then why do you wish to go?”
The girl looked at me. Her eyes welling with tears. And I knew. Of course I knew. It was the reason she had put on the Clock Diamond in the first place. “Your mother,” I said.
Rebecca nodded. It was a grim choice. But a noble one too.
Miss Frost bent down and put her hand in the water—it was thick, oozing between her fingers. “The crossing will be treacherous,” she said, standing up. “The portal is in its death throes and will not provide safe passage as it usually does. Once you pass through it, you will find yourself in the void. This is a most dangerous place, and without the portal guiding the way, there is a real possibility you might get blown off course.” She shifted her gaze between Rebecca and me. “Find the scarlet light and go toward it. Understood?”
I looked down at the poisoned water. Then at Miss Frost. “Will I see you again?”
“Once the portal dies, the link between our worlds is severed forever. Hurry, and remember—head for the scarlet light. That will lead you home.”
I waited for a speech. Declarations of undying gratitude. Great puddles of emotion. She’d never forget me. Loved me like a sister. Or an aunt. Or at the very least, a slightly repressed second cousin. Instead she lifted my chin with her finger and said, “Thank you, Miss Pocket.”
Which was rather perfect. Miss Frost and two guards took off toward the arched doorway, bound for the tunnel that led outside. Rebecca and I walked to the edge of the pool. Without a word we linked hands, squeezing tight, and dove into the water.
20
My eyes stung. My lungs hurt. My skin tingled as if it were being pricked by a thousand needles. Particles swirled through the purple liquid like a tempest. Having a dead girl with me was a great help—Rebecca’s shimmering skin bloomed within the murky water like a lamppost.
The portal was easy enough to find. A large and dark mass pulsing down at the very bottom of the pool. I kicked my legs, feeling Rebecca beside me. The far wall was covered in rock and barnacles and seaweed. And set into the bottom, among the heaving weeds and the gnarly shells, was our destination. The portal was large, plump tendrils covering its flesh, and in the center was a tunnel—though it was nearly closed. It pulsed, but just faintly, barely a bubble or two rising from within it. I went first, kicking my legs and pushing my way into the portal.
Inside was a long, narrow membrane—rather like the underside of a mushroom. The walls of the tunnel groaned deeply, like the last gasps of a dying giant, pressing in on me. I wanted to look back to check that Rebecca was close behind, but there wasn’t room enough for me to turn my head.
The farther in we went, the tighter the membrane grew. I heard a great shudder. And though I could not look back, I felt Rebecca at my feet and knew the portal was collapsing behind us. I kicked hard, pushing at the fleshy walls in the mad hope I could keep the portal open until we reached the void.
There was no air left in my lungs. Yet all I could do was kick and hope we would make it out in time. I felt a great surge from behind, pushing me forward. And just when I felt as if my chest would bust—a mighty wind was hammering my face. I gasped and took in a wondrous breath. Then looked back and saw Rebecca flying out as the dark and festering portal shriveled into a tight knot behind her.
“Ivy, help me!”
My eyes flew up as Rebecca spun wildly above me. I reached up and was able to grab her arm. Pulling her to me. It is rather difficult to describe a void. All I can say is that this place was empty and full at the same time. An endless landscape with nothing. It had color—the palest of blues. And it had weather—mighty winds that screamed in rage, churning and swirling and battering.
“Where do we go?” screamed Rebecca.
I looked about. Searching for any signs of a scarlet light. Far off in the distance was the faintest, the softest, of glows. Was it red? I couldn’t be sure. The whirlwind roared so furiously it made seeing terribly difficult.
“This way!” I shouted, pointing toward the faint glow.
Rebecca nodded her head and gripped my hand. “Don’t let go, Ivy,” she cried. “Promise you won’t let go.”
“Of course not, dear!”
But it was a promise I should not have made. For just at that moment a violent gust of wind hit me from below and sent me reeling.
“Ivy!” cried Rebecca.
My hand was pulled from hers. I tried to use my arms and legs to stop my rapid ascent. But I was a leaf in a tempest, and the more I struggled, the farther from Rebecca I flew. In seconds she was little more than a dot in the great emptiness of space.
“Foolish child,” whispered a voice in my ear.
Then I felt myself being swallowed. The wind sealed off. The great wall of furious noise silenced. It was as if I was inside a ball—or a fat ghost. The Duchess of Trinity took off, flying me back toward Rebecca. “What wonderful timing you have, dear,” I said. “For once, I’m actually pleased to see you.”
“You have no business being in this void,” she sang. “Did I not warn you about meddling?”
“I’m practically positive you didn’t,” I replied.
“Foolish child,” she growled again.
I put my hands on the sides of her luminous flesh and looked down. Rebecca was in sight! She was being blown about, but when she spotted me zipping through the air inside a ghostly bubble, she began to sob madly—with relief, I assume. The Duchess did not slow when we reached Rebecca. For a moment I was terrified that we were going to fly right past her. Instead, the ghost opened her big mouth and gobbled the girl up.
“Who is she?” Rebecca asked as I pulled her upright.
“Just a chum,” I said brightly. “Slightly murderous, but awfully good in a pickle.”
The Duchess flew through the swirling winds, right toward the scarlet light. The faint glow began to brighten into a deep shimmering red the closer we got. It was shaped like a teardrop, great blooms of crimson mist rising out of it.
When we were a short distance from the light, the ghost stopped. The winds around us were pounding the Duchess on all sides. I heard her groan and noticed fragments of her luminous aura lifting off and flying away.
“What is happening, Duchess?” I said.
“Mind your own business.” The ghost’s voice sounded strained and weak. “The winds here are ferocious—crawl through the t
unnel and do not look back.”
“What tunnel?” I said.
“Ivy, look!” shouted Rebecca.
The Duchess’s blue blubber began to stretch out in front of us, making a perfectly round channel leading to the light. We took off, crawling on our hands and knees. I made Rebecca go first so I could keep an eye on her. We were just a few feet from the scarlet teardrop when the tunnel tore open. The winds encircled the Duchess like a pack of rabid dogs. Rebecca and I were spat back into the void—and almost immediately my friend began to blow away.
“Ivy, what is happening?” she cried.
Salvation was within reach. I grabbed Rebecca by the arm and pushed as hard as I could, throwing her into the scarlet light—she gave a faint cry and was swallowed within it. I felt a current at my back. I turned and saw that the Duchess of Trinity was blowing me toward the red hollow. “Are you not coming?” I shouted.
The winds had savaged her—fragments of light tore from her flesh. The ghost shook her head. “There will be nothing left in a moment or two.” She blew again, and I flew closer to the light. “Good-bye, child.”
“How did you find me here?” And in that moment, the answer dropped into my head, and I understood. “This was your last great mission—wasn’t it, Duchess?”
“I made my choice, and I am not sorry.” Starlight flew from her until I could barely make out her ghostly glow. “Rebecca will return to the place where she departed. With enough headwind, so will you.”
She gave one final breath, and I felt the warm light at my back. The wind raged, and the Duchess of Trinity, that marvelous and murderous creature, was carried away like dust on the wind. I turned and plunged into the hollow.
My landing wasn’t as dignified as I would have liked. I was spat out, tumbling across the floor. But I recovered well and climbed to my feet. Found myself in a narrow corridor—dirt floor, brick wall. I got up, dusted off my dress, and pushed on the door. The glass panel opened silently, and I found myself in the darkened ballroom. It looked rather less chaotic than when I was last there. The red velvet curtains were drawn. The place silent and still. I broke into a run, heading for the door.