Kiss of the Spindle

by Nancy Campbell Allen

  She sniffed. “Apology accepted. And I forgive you, as you do not know me very well.”

  “You’re the second person today to tell me that,” he muttered, trying to find leverage on the boot heel with his fingers.

  “Who was the first?”

  “Your besotted airship captain.”

  She gaped. “You’ve seen Daniel? Today?”

  He nodded and smacked the boot on the floor. “He’s here. So is Lewis.”

  “Nigel!” She stumbled pathetically to the bars, grasping two of them and trying to peer out into the hallway. “You might have said something!”

  “Figured you knew. How do you think I escaped?”

  She turned back to him, still holding the iron bars. “She locked you up before?”

  “Well, yes,” he said, his exasperation clear. “How do you suppose this happened?” He gestured to the bruises on his face. “I left you in the cabin, came here, mixed a spell in the library to confound her blasted crystal ball, and was in the process of gathering ingredients for your cure when she caught me.”

  Isla turned and leaned against the bars. “You located the cure?”

  “It’s in her spell book, which we have yet to locate, but I know enough of the basics she would have used that I decided to at least gather those as a start.”

  She sighed. “I am sorry you’ve done all this for my sake. You wouldn’t even be here, if . . .”

  “If what?” His cynical smile returned. “If I hadn’t agreed to spy on you for my mother to ensure that a nasty sleeping spell would mature and then put you into an eternal coma?” He shook his head. “Do not absolve me of anything. A good thrashing is the least I deserve.”

  “How did the others know you were here?”

  “They spoke with Port Lucy’s oldest resident gossip. Found the house and then me in one of the storage buildings.” He pulled the heel loose, revealing a U-shaped row of spikes protruding from the bottom of the boot. “These on the ends may be long enough.” He made quick work of pulling out five nails, and using one of them, began working on the manacle at his wrist.

  “How odd that this was your home,” she observed as he worked. “And how bizarre it must be to find yourself locked in the dungeon.”

  “This isn’t the first time,” he said and frowned at the manacle. “Spent half of my childhood in here.”

  “What?”

  “Well, perhaps not half.”

  “Even a quarter, an eighth, is too much! Once is too much! She is truly an evil person. And she is so beautiful, it’s disarming.”

  He laughed. “Yes. I learned quite early to mistrust beauty.”

  “Learned to mistrust many things, I suspect,” she observed quietly.

  “Stay out of my head, Dr. Cooper. There are places in there best left alone.” He paused. “There!” Metal clanked as the manacle dropped from his wrist.

  “Why does she not lock these with charms?”

  He grinned. “I can disarm those. She figures there’s always a chance I can’t pick a plain lock.”

  “How long do you suppose we’ve been in here?” she asked as he began working on her shackle.

  “If I had to guess, an hour, maybe more.”

  “Then why haven’t Daniel and Lewis found us yet?” The thought swam uncomfortably in her head. “She may have caught them.”

  “She may,” he acknowledged. “But this room is hidden behind the kitchen on the first floor. They wouldn’t think to look here. My guess is they may be hiding, waiting for her to either leave or turn her back. There are two places where she would have hidden the spell book. I disarmed the protective spell outside her bedroom so they could examine her cabinets in there, while I went to the library in case there were more protective spells there. That’s where I was when Malette swooped in with you.”

  “Is there a definitive escape plan?”

  “Before we entered the house, Pickett telescribed Samson to be ready with the airship, but not to hover within sight of the house. It was a loosely formed plan, but the best we could manage at the time.”

  “So they know I am here?”

  “Not yet. None of us knew for sure. We thought you were somewhere in the swamp. Bonadea and the Port Lucy constable are searching for you as we speak.” He shook his head. “I tried to scribe Daniel from the library when I heard you in the other room with Malette, but my charge had gone out.” He shook the chain attached to her manacle. “Sit, will you please?”

  She slowly lowered herself to the ground and bit her lip to keep from crying out as she stretched the leg she’d twisted earlier. He was able to turn her other foot for easier access to the locking mechanism, and as cold as his skin was, the warmth of his hand on her foot was a welcome relief. She closed her eyes and leaned against the bars, breathing deeply. He stilled, and she opened her eyes to see his battered face tensely drawn.

  “I am sorry. I am so sorry.” He held her foot in both hands. “I’m never sorry about anything, Isla, never bothered to see the aftermath of my actions.” He shook his head as if warding off discomfort. “You are an absolute mess, and it’s my fault.”

  She laughed, her voice still raw. “We shall review your lessons on how to best express criticism to a woman.”

  He smirked. “Do you believe Malette ever bothered with such lessons? There is no ‘review’ involved.”

  “Do not trouble yourself about it, Nigel. The fact that you have a conscience, that you mean well, that you feel remorse—those are good things. Things that prove you are nothing like your mother. And once we get our hands on that spell book of hers, we’re going to scour it until we find a way to untether you from her.”

  “Mmm,” he said noncommittally as he resumed work on her manacle lock. “I’m not certain there is such a spell.”

  “Of course there is. By now I’ve realized that if there is a spell, there is a counter for it somewhere.” She frowned. “Unless it involves death, I suppose.”

  “Even that is reversible, if you consider Resurrectionists.” He grinned and twisted the nail around the locking mechanism.

  “Ugh. Nasty business. Even the good ones can raise only an approximation of the original person. A shadow of a soul is still just a shadow.” She shuddered.

  The manacle clicked, and he opened it with a smile of satisfaction.

  “Nicely done, sir.” She moved to stand.

  “Wait.” He held up a hand and removed his other boot, and then both socks. Before she could protest, he put the socks on her feet. “Not the prettiest, perhaps, but they’re warmer than what you have on your feet now.”

  She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat, reveling in the temporary physical comfort. “Thank you.”

  He held up the boots. “I would offer these as well, but they’re substantially larger than your feet.”

  She shook her head. “This is wonderful. Thank you.”

  He reattached the heel of his destroyed boot with the nails that remained, slipped both boots back on, and, grabbing a fresh nail, made his way to the lock on the iron bars. “It is past time to leave this place. When this business is finished, I shall burn it to the ground.”

  Daniel peered around the far corner of the library where he stood with Lewis. They had lost all contact with Nigel, had been unable to locate Isla, and had drawn the fiery focus of the home’s owner. A blast of fire shot toward him, and he retreated. He telescribed Samson to move in closer with the airship, uncertain where the most ideal spot for extraction would be.

  “The roof?” Lewis suggested, reading the message over his shoulder.

  “I don’t know. We need to find Crowe before then, and as he’s not answering his scribes, I’m assuming Malette has done something to him.” Daniel and Lewis had arrived in the library over an hour ago, and he’d been nowhere to be found. The one positive light in the past ten minute
s was Lewis had finally found the right spell book.

  Lewis nodded toward the open area beyond the library. “He said she can’t kill him, but she can certainly scorch him with that.”

  Daniel nodded, grim. “So, there are dragons,” he muttered. “I owe him an apology.” They were safe in their corner only because the dragon was too large to enter the room. They had been disabling charms and searching multiple-locked cabinets when the enormous whoosh he’d heard outside the night before had sounded in the outer room. Daniel had looked around the corner and then grabbed Lewis, making a run for cover.

  “Not a bat, then,” Lewis had commented breathlessly.

  The dragon stayed just out of reach, but close enough to heat the area like a blast furnace with the fire that she shot from her mouth.

  “Once I gather the ingredients, we can leave,” Lewis said. “I am not familiar with all of them, but I saw many of them on her shelves. This may be our only chance at locating some of the more rare items.” He paused. “What shall we do about Crowe?”

  Daniel rubbed his eyes. “I am not decided. We can’t leave him here indefinitely, but we may need to return with reinforcements. Have you deciphered all of the spell?”

  “Getting to the last of it now.” Lewis winced at the creature’s deafening shriek and the blast of fire that followed.

  Daniel rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes. He didn’t know if Isla was even still alive. She could be dead in the swamp from an insect sting or snakebite. She could have been attacked by a predator in the dark. She could . . .

  “Blast,” Lewis muttered.

  Daniel opened his eyes. “What is it?”

  Lewis rubbed his forehead. “We need a drop of the witch’s blood, a drop of Isla’s blood, and a drop of blood belonging to the one who can break the curse.”

  Daniel frowned and peered around the corner again. “Who can break the curse?”

  “One with whom the victim ‘shares equally true love.’” Lewis scratched his head and angled the book toward a window in the alcove. “I don’t even know what that means.” He traced his finger along the words. “Three drops combined . . . traced along the forehead . . . a kiss from the beloved . . .”

  Daniel swallowed. “Very well, we need Malette’s blood. I’ll nick her with my blade, and we’ll collect the drops in a vial.” He nodded toward shelves on the library’s far wall that contained ingredients and supplies.

  Lewis eyed him and turned back to the spell book. “How are you going to get close enough to nick her and collect the blood?”

  “We only need her to bleed, yes? I’ll throw my dagger at her, if enough blood drips onto the floor, we can use that. If it’s spilled while she’s still alive, that qualifies, I should think.”

  Lewis nodded, and then frowned. He raised his voice to be heard over the constant roar of both the dragon and the raging storm. “You won’t be able to simply throw it at her. It says the same implement must be used on all three people to draw the blood.”

  “Blast. Why is nothing ever simple?” Daniel created a mental list.

  Distract the dragon so Lewis can grab the supplies from the shelves.

  Draw Malette’s blood, drip it into a vial, and retrieve the knife for future blood-letting pertinent to the spell.

  Find Crowe.

  Get out of the manor.

  Meet up with Samson and the airship—assuming the dragon hasn’t blasted it out of the sky already.

  Find Isla.

  Administer the cure.

  Suddenly the roar stopped. A fluttering of giant wings echoed in the room, and the dragon’s shadow, visible from the alcove, shrunk down into the form of a person.

  “So,” Malette’s voice echoed, “you’ve escaped the dungeon.”

  Daniel frowned. Who was she talking to? He ventured a quick look around the corner, and his heart stuttered. Isla stood with Nigel, and she was battered and ragged from head to toe. Lightning forked across the sky, illuminating the grim scene with a garishly bright flash. Daniel’s fingers curled into a tight fist, and he forced them to relax and grasp his dagger at a sheath at his side.

  “Quite industrious, really. Impressive to see you both upright.” Malette slowly advanced on the pair. “Your wits are clearly dulled, however. Did you truly think to sneak in here and I wouldn’t realize it?”

  Lewis joined him at the corner. “There’s an empty burlap sack on the floor,” he whispered. “Behind the spinning wheel. I’ll grab it and sweep the lot on the shelves into the bag. Everything.”

  “Suppose something breaks?” He glanced at Lewis before turning his attention back to the witch. He couldn’t allow himself to look at Isla, not until they were somewhere safe.

  “Have to chance it.”

  Daniel nodded. “I’ll distract her, hit her with the dagger, you sweep the shelves. Do not forget that spell book.” He nodded at the worn, leather-bound volume they’d risked everything to obtain.

  Lewis nodded.

  “Right, then. On my mark,” Daniel said, but stopped when Nigel leaped at Malette, clearly catching her by surprise and taking her to the ground. “Go!” Daniel told Lewis then ran from the library and into the open room as Nigel rolled away from Malette, grasping her staff.

  Malette shrieked in outrage and transformed, rising and stretching, becoming a dragon while they watched.

  Nigel broke the staff in half over his leg, and when Malette blasted an explosive flame in his direction, he tossed the two pieces directly into the fire. Lewis ran for the shelves in the far corner of the library and grabbed the empty sack. Isla dodged beneath the dragon and slipped her way across the rain-slicked floor, where she collapsed in Daniel’s outstretched arms.

  He hauled her up against him and backed into the library.

  “No,” she wheezed, looking back at the dragon. “We must help Nigel. Daniel, he saved my life.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut and kissed her forehead. “I’ll help him. You stay here with Lewis.”

  “What is he doing?” She squinted at the far corner of the room, clutching Daniel’s shoulders.

  “Gathering things—”

  A deafening roar split the air, and Isla winced. She shoved herself away from Daniel. “Go. I’ll help Lewis.” Her voice was so hoarse he wouldn’t have understood had he not read her lips.

  Before he could respond, she pushed at him again and limped across the room. She favored one leg, and his heart caught in his throat when she stumbled and fell to the hard stone floor. He was poised to run to her when Lewis beat him to it. He motioned to Daniel and pulled Isla upright.

  Sick with worry, he turned his attention to the dragon, who had Nigel cornered. The man was in a bad way—he’d needed good medical attention before they’d returned with him, let alone now. Daniel yelled at the monster as she tracked Nigel with her eyes, and when she turned to him, Daniel ventured closer and threw his dagger with all his strength. It lodged in the creature’s shoulder, well above where he’d aimed.

  Malette roared and tossed her head, and Daniel ran as she inhaled. A wall of heat erupted behind him, and he dove toward Nigel as she took flight, screeching loudly enough to drown out the thunder from the storm.

  “Hurry!” Daniel pulled the injured man to his feet and hauled him to the relative safety of the library while the dragon bellowed and circled the crumbling house.

  Lewis hefted the burlap sack full of items from the shelves with one hand and supported Isla with the other. They made their way to Daniel and Nigel at the doorway, and he looked up at the dragon. “Is she wounded?” he shouted.

  Daniel nodded. “My dagger. It’s in her shoulder.”

  Another fiery blast drowned Lewis’s response, and all Daniel deciphered was “ . . . retrieve that dagger. We need it for the cure.”

  Isla looked up at Malette. “Does anyone have another kn
ife? A sword? Anything?”

  “Not here,” Nigel shouted and coughed, flecks of blood catching on his shirtfront. He clutched his side, still leaning heavily on Daniel. “Upstairs in storage, maybe,” he managed.

  Daniel turned, hoping Malette would fall from the sky. “No time,” he shouted to Nigel. “And if she leaves now, we may not have another chance.” He glanced at Isla, whose days were numbered. They couldn’t afford the luxury of waiting while Malette took herself off somewhere to heal and regroup. “We must keep her here.”

  Nigel nodded as Daniel eased away from him. Lewis said something to Isla, then handed her the bag and ran back to the corner of the room. He pulled the spinning wheel apart and clutched the spindle, still attached to a length of string.

  Malette shrieked, and fire poured down through the open roof as she circled high in the air, but her flight became erratic, less smooth and controlled.

  Lewis lifted the spinning wheel and hurled it back down again, smashing apart the main components.

  The dragon dove at the room, and Nigel picked up a candlestick from a dusty shelf. He stumbled out of the library and hurled his improvised weapon at her with a furious shout, grazing the end of the dagger that still protruded from the dark green scales. Daniel rushed to a shelf and grabbed a few books and debris, following Nigel’s lead and striking the creature in the back and wings to distract it. Perhaps they could wound it enough to bring it down.

  He risked a glance at Lewis and Isla, who now stood at the library entrance. Lewis grasped the spinning wheel’s spindle and tugged the attached string. He handed the spindle to Isla and said something Daniel couldn’t hear.

  She grasped the spindle tight. Lewis clasped her hand with his and, with his other hand, wove a series of small circles in the air over the item. He then pulled the end of the string and began unwinding it, letting it out as one might when flying a kite. Daniel saw the purpose behind Lewis’s actions and hoped desperately that it would work.