Inn on the Edge

by Gail Bridges

  “Here, drink this,” Valerian said, handing me a mug of hot spiced cider. It smelled just like the cider my mother used to make at Halloween. “Maybe it will help. Then you should rest.”

  I sipped, and it did help.

  “Yum. Thanks.” I took another drink. Now I noticed the alcoholic tang, unlike my mother’s cider. I held the warm mug in my hands. Black splotches still floated across my vision and the world still lurched unpredictably, but things were getting better. I swallowed, wondering if it was a great idea to drink cider when I’d just had a coma-seizure-near-death experience. Or whatever it had been.

  What the hell. It tasted good. I took another drink.

  They were watching me.

  “Um,” I said, suddenly shy. “Thank you. You guys are the best. Help me up, Josh?” I settled into my chair again. Zora handed me the mug. Vane took a lap blanket from the couch and tucked it over my legs. “I mean it. Thank you. I’m feeling much better now. Back to business. What were we talking about before I had my…ah, episode? The flowers?”

  “Yeah,” said Valerian, “the flowers.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right, Angie? You’re still awfully pale,” said Zenith.

  “I’m better. Thanks.”

  Josh peered at me. “Your color is coming back.”

  “And my vision. Finally.”

  “Good,” said Valerian, digging around in his pocket. He pulled out a limp cluster of bedraggled flowers. “It’s time again. We ought to keep eating them. Just in case.”

  We ate another petal. Just in case.

  Even me.

  And then we hit the books again. What else could we do?

  Chapter Thirty

  An hour later—we’d just eaten another petal—I stood up and stretched, yawning. I hadn’t had another seizure. That was good. But I was exhausted, my back and neck ached and I hadn’t found anything even remotely useful. Not the tiniest little thing. Which was not good at all. I put my current book—Noises in the Closet—back on the shelf. “This isn’t working,” I said, to no one in particular.

  Vane looked up from his book, A Thousand and one Spells. “Give it a chance, Angie. We haven’t searched for long enough. You’re tired. Maybe you should lie down.”

  “No. We’re wasting time!”

  “How is this wasting time?”

  I didn’t have a good answer. I just knew it was. I snatched a random book from the shelf—Milton’s Hexes and Curses—and tossed it onto the table, throwing Vane a dirty look.

  “I’m not wasting time,” Vane mumbled, “I don’t know about you.”

  “Kids,” said Valerian. “Cut it out.”

  We went back to our books.

  “Zenith,” I whispered a few minutes later. “That book you’ve got. Which one is it?”

  “Ancient Spells. See?” She held up one of the small, hand-bound pamphlets I’d noticed earlier. “I’m about halfway through it. Might be something here, I don’t know. But there are so many…how do I know which to study? How do I know which will work against Mr. Abiba?” Her shoulders slumped. “It’s hopeless, Angie.”

  “Page seventy-four,” I said, “look at page seventy-four.”

  Giving me a quizzical look, she flipped through pages. Then she put the book down and stared at me. “Ringing spells! How did you know? I’ve heard of those. Let me read a bit…”

  I went back to my book but found it hard to concentrate. How had I known what page to send her to? How odd.

  About ten minutes later, Zenith stood up. “I think this might be it,” she said quietly. “Maybe. It’s from this booklet. Page seventy-four, just like Angie said. I found a spell. A ringing spell.” She bit her lip. “It’s an all-around spell that’ll work on a wide variety of demon types.” She let out a small laugh. “I can’t believe I just said that. The spell looks encouraging but the book doesn’t say exactly what it does.”

  “Read some of it for us,” I suggested.

  “Well, all right.” She sat down again and propped the booklet up in front of her. “It’s long. And it’s kind of hard to understand. It doesn’t sound like a spell but it is. It’s this guy, Tobias, and he’s getting advice from an angel. Here goes.” She began reading, her voice clear and strong.

  “What are these remedies good for, he asked of the angel Azarias. I beseech thee, tell me why thou hast bid me to encircle the demon with the fruit of my imagining? And the angel, answering, said to him, If thou createst a circle around him and cause him to thusly complete it and therefore make it whole, the smoke thereof shall drive him away so that he comes no more.”

  Valerian scratched his head. “Jeez. That’s the kind of stuff you’re reading?”

  She marked the place with her finger. “Yes. Dense, isn’t it? They’re all like that.”

  “Zenith,” I said quietly, “can you read it again?”

  She did.

  “Sounds like gibberish to me,” said Josh.

  “What does it mean?” Zora asked.

  “I have no idea,” admitted Zenith. Then she made an irritated harrumph sound and grabbed the candelabra. “This thing is driving me crazy—I can’t see you, Zora!” She plunked the candelabra onto the sideboard where our food waited, mostly uneaten. A drop of hot wax splattered on top of the basket of dinner rolls. “There. That’s better.” She sat down again and picked up her booklet, frowning at the entry in question. “Too bad. It sounded good. It had potential but I don’t understand it.”

  “I do,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

  “You do?” said a very dubious Josh.

  “Yes.” I looked at each of them in turn. It was so clear to me—how could they not see it? “I do understand. Listen—it says to encircle the demon with the fruit of my imagining. Get it?”

  They didn’t.

  So I repeated the line, slower this time, placing emphasis on the words “encircle” and “fruit of my imagining”.

  The others stared at me. Zenith put her booklet down.

  “It’s so obvious!” I fairly shouted, “It’s me! My paintings! On the walls of the Fine Arts Room. All connected by painted vines of ivy to make a circle—the fruits of my imagination!”

  “Holy shit,” whispered Valerian. He ran a hand through his short hair.

  “She’s right,” said Josh.

  “Go on, sweetie,” said Zenith. “What else? Is there more?”

  “Yes. A lot more.” I couldn’t sit still. My knees jiggled so hard they set Milton’s Hexes and Curses to wobbling, and now it was in danger of sliding off the edge of the table. I shoved the book to a safer position, then stood up to pace around the table. “We have to ring the Fine Art Room with my artwork…with him inside it! Encircling him. Trapping him. Just like it says. And…then what? Something about smoke? About vanquishing him? He’ll never see it coming!”

  “Not exactly, honey,” said Zenith.

  “Yes, exactly!”

  Zenith picked up her booklet again, frowning slightly. “It’s not that easy. You can’t just paint the room and…what? Hope that Mr. Abiba wanders into it? That won’t work. He has to trigger the spell himself. He has to close the circle. See? It says you have to ‘cause him to thusly complete it and therefore make it whole’.”

  She was right.

  I stood near the bonfire, quivering. She was right.

  But there had to be a way. I looked out the cave’s entrance, pondering the problem. It was snowing even harder now, a blizzard almost. I could no longer make out the mountains in the distance or even the crags and cliffs that surrounded our dragon’s lair. All I could see was snow. Lots of it. Swirling, billowing, frosting the outermost part of the opening ledge, blowing in almost as far as the bonfire. I shivered.

  “Angie,” said Josh, “what are you thinking?”

  I faced them again. I felt the warmth of the fire on my cheeks. “We trick him.”

  “How?” said Zenith, leaning forward.

  Something—everything—changed, just like that. I wrap
ped my arms around my stomach, excited now. The dragon’s cave seemed alive with possibility. I felt it and I knew they did too. I saw the hope on their faces. We were tense, wound up, ready for action. Our lethargy of only a few moments before vanished into thin air.

  And just like that, I knew exactly what had to be done.

  “We lure him into the Fine Arts Room,” I said, going back to the table and sitting down again. “We tell him the surprise we’ve planned is a special performance in his honor.”

  “Oh,” said Vane, “he’d totally go for that. What kind of performance?”

  “We’ll get to that in a moment.”

  “What’s the trick?” asked Zora.

  “Picture this.” I closed my eyes, imagining it. “My paintings ring the room. The performance starts and it’s amazing, like nothing seen before at the inn. We call for Mr. Abiba.” I start to talk faster. “He arrives. He’s thrilled! He’s enchanted by the performance. And then he sees the best part of all, something I’ve planned just for him…the surprise within a surprise!” I open my eyes and see them hanging on my words. “When he sees it, he gets so excited he can’t think straight, he’s blown away…and—here’s the trick. He doesn’t know it but I’ve painted the backs of the doors. It’s the final part of my ‘ring of imagining’…and it’s hidden from view.” I was out of breath, panting with excitement.

  “Yes, yes!” said Valerian, nodding, gripping the edge of the table, his knuckles white.

  “And I say, ‘Hey, Mr. Abiba, can you please close the door?’”

  “Oh!” said Zenith.

  Vane blew out air through his pursed lips. He sounded disappointed. “That won’t work.”

  “No,” agreed Josh, “he’s way too smart. He knows every trick in the book.”

  “It will work,” I said, putting both hands flat on the table and leaning forward. “He will fall for it.” I had their attention now. “He will fall for it because I will be standing in the middle of the room, wearing my wedding dress and that engagement ring he gave me,” I looked at my husband, “offering myself as his bride.”

  This was greeted with silence.

  “Shit, Angie,” said Josh, “you can’t do that.”

  “I’m not going to marry him, Josh! I just want to throw him off his game! I’m a distraction, nothing more. All I want to do is surprise him so much that he’ll do what I ask. I want him to shut the fucking double doors of the fucking Fine Arts Room and close the fucking circle! Just like in Zenith’s book!”

  They stared at me. Josh looked away. “You don’t have to swear,” he said finally.

  “It’ll work,” said Zenith. “He’s an Amorous Demon, remember?”

  “Yes,” said Vane.

  I took Josh’s hand in mine. Lifted my fingers to his lips, where they’d been so many times before. “But I won’t do it if you don’t agree.”

  His kissed my hand. His eyes met mine. “I don’t like it…but you have to. It’s the only way.”

  We sat in quiet at the table for a long moment.

  “Angie, what do you need from us?” asked Zora.

  I closed my eyes, trying to envision the Fine Arts Room. “Okay. I need to have the ring of paintings finished by the time we call for him. It’ll take a while, but he already knows I’m painting in there so he won’t be suspicious.” I mentally filled the room with pictures connected by painted vines of ivy, working out how much time it would take to complete the job. My paintings would be no masterpieces, but what did that matter? “Three, four hours. It shouldn’t take much longer. I’ve got a lot done already. I’ll dash off the rest, using the big brushes he just gave me.” I flexed my fingers, imagining myself actually painting with a Tennenbach brush. “Ironic, isn’t it? That he gave me the very brushes I’m going to use to ring him with? Anyway, we won’t let him in until I’m ready. We’ll tell him we’re doing prep work for his surprise. That he isn’t allowed.”

  “That won’t stop him,” said Josh. “If he really wants to go in, I mean.”

  “I know,” I said. “But I think he’ll stay away.”

  “How long until you’re ready?” asked Zora.

  “Several hours. This afternoon. How about we plan it for just before dinner?” It was early afternoon. That gave me plenty of time, if I worked faster than I’d ever worked in my life. My breath caught in my throat as I realized something else had just changed. Our escape now had a timeframe. It was scheduled. It was truly happening.

  “Go on,” said Valerian. “What’s the rest? What about the performance?”

  “Actually, Valerian, you gave me the idea.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “A while ago, you told Josh and me something very interesting about Zenith. Remember? When you came to collect us for breakfast on Monday morning.”

  “Ah, so I did.”

  I turned to Zenith. “You’re a flamenco dancer!”

  “I am.”

  “I forgot about that!” said Josh, half rising from his seat.

  “Oh my god,” breathed Zenith. “Josh—you play flamenco guitar? I had no idea.”

  “Why would you?” he said, his fingers making a showy rasgueado strum on imaginary strings. “You’ve never heard me play any! I studied flamenco for years. I even went to Spain for a summer.”

  “So there you go,” I said. “Flamenco dancer, meet flamenco guitarist.”

  “We’ll need to practice together,” said Josh.

  “And I’ll need to choose a dress and do my hair and makeup…”

  “I’ll help with that,” offered Zora. She turned to me. “And I’ll help you to get ready too.”

  “I’ll help as well,” said Valerian. “I’ll do anything else we need. Stage. Set. A flower-covered arbor for Angie to wait under. Whatever. I’ll do it.”

  “Yes!” I said, nodding. “You can hide me in your arbor until the perfect moment.”

  “That’s good,” said Zenith.

  Vane rapped his knuckles on the table. “Hey, you forgot something. Me.”

  We all turned to him.

  Zenith clapped her hands. “Of course! How did I not think of that? My teacher taught Charlie some flamenco songs! You’ve all heard him sing! He’s got a beautiful voice. But Mr. Abiba has no idea he can sing flamenco—it’ll come as a complete shock to him.” She turned to Josh, her eyes glowing. “Charlie will sing with us! He’ll be part of the performance!”

  “Mr. Abiba will love it,” said Valerian. “He’ll think he died and went to heaven. And that’s before he sees his beautiful bride.”

  I made a face at Valerian. “Fine. Great. But who is Charlie?”

  The room went quiet. Water dripped from somewhere deep in the bowels of the cave. Outside a bird of prey shrieked, its call echoing shrilly from the surrounding cliff faces. It sounded eerie. Ominous. Full of portent.

  “I am,” said Vane, sighing. “I’m Charlie. My real name is Charles Buck.”

  His real name? What the hell?

  “And I’m Margarita,” said Zenith, not sounding like herself. Her vowels had gone all soft and sultry. On second thought, soft and sultry fit my Zenith. Fit her very well indeed. She met my eye. Smiled at me. Dipped her Burnt Sienna head. Made my insides clench with desire. “Margarita Sanchez Martinez. My friends call me Rita.”

  I gaped at her. Rita?

  Valerian cleared his throat. “Um. My real name is Rodney Applegate…but Valerian is so much more exciting, don’t you think?”

  Nobody answered. Vane shifted in his seat.

  “Well. I’m Anne,” said Zora, pulling her wild blond curls into a loose ponytail and then letting them fall free again. “Anne Laurie Applegate.”

  To a person, they looked embarrassed.

  “We should have told you before this,” said Zenith… Margarita? Rita?

  No, Zenith.

  “Wow,” said Josh, shaking his head. “Just…wow. We were suspicious of the Vs and Zs when we first got here—”

  “But later, we forgot,” I
said, interrupting him, “what with all the sex. All those apexes! And those irresistible Guides.”

  “Mmm, yes, those Guides!” Josh smacked his lips. “They’d make you forget anything.”

  Vane laughed. “You guys were pretty irresistible yourselves. We all wanted to teach your first Lesson!” He turned to the others. “Didn’t we?”

  Zora giggled. Valerian blew air out of his nose. Zenith batted her eyes.

  “But Mr. Abiba chose me!” said Vane, pretending to fan himself. “My god. The Invisa-Lover…whew!”

  My insides did a flip-flop as I remembered.

  “Anyhow, about the names,” said Zenith, bringing us back. “He gave us new ones when we became Guides. There’s a whole ceremony involved. And lots of sex. We weren’t supposed to tell you they weren’t our real names. But, hey. We weren’t supposed to plot an escape either.”

  I laughed.

  “He already has names picked out for you two,” said Valerian.

  “Oh?” said Josh.

  “Valentino. You’re going to be Valentino.”

  Josh snorted. “Valentino? I’m not a Valentino! Never!”

  “You’d be surprised how painless it is to take on a new name around here,” said Zenith.

  Perhaps. But she would never be Margarita to me.

  “How about Angie?” Josh asked, pointing. “What name did he choose for her?”

  “Zenobia,” said Zora.

  “Are you kidding me?” I said. “Zenobia? I don’t want to be a Zenobia!”

  All six of us broke out laughing at the same moment.

  Then we laughed even harder when we realized what we’d done. The atmosphere inside the cave changed yet again. It grew warmer. Homier. More welcoming. The faces around me glowed in the flickering candlelight, familiar and comforting. We were easy together. We liked one another. At one time or another, we had all been lovers. We knew one another intimately, as only lovers could.

  Now we were friends as well.

  As the laughter died down, I found myself looking out of the cave’s entrance. The snow had almost stopped and I could see fleeting patches of blue sky. How much time had passed? Was Mr. Abiba getting impatient? We’d eaten two petals and were soon due for a third. “Okay,” I said, looking around the table, taking charge again. “Vane. Zenith. Valerian. Zora. Josh.” I waited a second. “Charlie. Rita. Rodney. Anne. And…Valentino.”