by Sarah Noffke
The ropes in her hands shook as she swayed. The bridge felt seconds away from flipping over, and there was little to save her from falling into the lava in the sky.
That was when the simplest yet still revolutionary idea occurred to her. “Lava can’t flow in the sky.”
“And a castle can’t hover above a mountain,” Plato added. “What’s your point?”
“My point is that this is all an illusion. It’s not real,” Liv stated with confidence. She hovered her foot above the next step, where the board was missing.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” Plato asked.
“No, I’d rather be playing video games with Sophia and eating Spicy Hot Doritos, but since that’s not an option presently, I’ll try this.”
“Maybe Rooster has Doritos,” Plato suggested.
Liv glanced up at the snow-covered castle, realizing that it probably wasn’t a castle at all. It might have been a hovel built into the side of Mount McLoughlin for all she knew. Rooster had to be an incredibly powerful magician to surround his home with such strong illusions.
“I don’t think he’s the type to stock junk food,” Liv said, realizing she was stalling. “And I doubt that he has video games, either.”
“Whenever you’re done stalling, I’m interested to see if your theory about the illusions holds up.”
“Seriously Plato, it’s creepy how much you’re in my head lately,” Liv said, drawing a breath.
“You think that’s creepy, but you’re the one who won’t get rid of the spiders living in the apartment,” Plato fired back.
“They aren’t doing any harm,” Liv argued.
“But you think of them as roommates.”
“I do not,” Liv stated flatly.
“Then why did you name three of them Phoebe, Monica, and Rachel?” Plato asked.
“Seriously, Plato, my head is already crowded enough without you in there.”
“Yes, your head is a cramped and dark place. I can attest to that.”
Liv tried to shake off the ridiculous conversation and focus on taking the next step. “It’s not real. The lava isn’t real. The bridge isn’t real. It’s just a path.”
She could hear her heart beating in her ears. If she was wrong, then this would be how she’d die. There would be no time to recover and cast a spell before she tumbled to her death, and Plato probably wouldn’t be able to save her. The lava was too close and the fall too short.
“There is no lava,” Liv repeated to herself. She held her breath as she let her foot come down. It hit something solid.
Jerking her head down, Liv noticed that she was standing on what appeared to be nothing. She was walking on thin air. Yet again.
“Far out,” she said in a hushed voice.
“Yes, very good,” Plato commended. “There also isn’t a spoon.”
Her chest suddenly abounding with adrenaline, Liv shook her head. “Oh, shush it, Plato. You knew this all along, didn’t you?”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Yeah, you’re definitely the glitch in the matrix. I’m convinced.”
Liv took another tentative step, grateful when her foot met a firm surface.
“So what would have happened if I hadn’t figured it out and actually fell?” Liv asked.
“You would have burned to death,” Plato answered.
“But the lava isn’t real,” she argued.
“It doesn’t matter if something is real or not. Things are constructed based on how we think about them. Our thoughts shape our reality. The way we perceive things makes it dangerous or harmless. To some, the sight of the ocean is peaceful, while to others, it is turbulent and scary. The ocean didn’t change in either scenario, though.”
“So, our thoughts are what can get us killed?” Liv asked.
“If we allow them to,” Plato answered. “We always have a choice, though.
Liv was grateful when she came to the end of the rickety bridge. She realized Plato was right in front of her, standing beside the castle door.
“Hey, you didn’t cross the bridge. Are you going to be able to enter the castle?” she asked him.
“Remember, there is no bridge,” he said, looking behind her.
She turned to find she was standing on the edge of a cliff and had just traversed a narrow and steep path that was barely two inches wide. The rocks crumbled underfoot, falling into a deep ravine.
Liv’s head jerked up. She knew at once that what she was seeing was the real landscape. The bridge had been fake, which meant what was at her back should be real.
She turned, mesmerized by the castle that stood at the top of the mountain.
Chapter Sixteen
“Do you think I should knock?” Liv asked the lynx at her side.
“You can try,” Plato offered.
Liv had a hard time wrapping her mind around this strange castle. It was confounding to her that she’d stepped off the side of the mountain, walked on thin air, and arrived at a seemingly real castle at the actual top of Mount McLoughlin.
Pulling out the parchment, Liv decided to consult it. To her surprise, it was blank.
“I guess Bermuda doesn’t have any words of wisdom about what to do next,” Liv stated, raising her fist to knock on the broad door that towered over her. “Oh, well. I think this next part should be easy.”
“I really wished you hadn’t said that,” Plato stated dully.
She shook her head at him.
The magic that formed the House of Fourteen was impressive, disguising it and also making it into more of a living creature than a building. But the magic at work on Rooster’s castle was just as unique. Strangely, it didn’t put Liv on edge. Instead, she felt a weird sense of welcome, like the castle wanted her to enter.
Just before she rapped at the door, something threw her backward. The force was so great it made her tumble, her feet going over her head as she did a clumsy flip. Liv’s legs flew over the side of the cliff, spurred by the momentum of the assault.
Her hands caught the edge. Her fingers really had to dig into the dirt to keep her hold. She didn’t dare look down because she already knew she was dangling dangerously off the side of the mountain, seconds from falling to her death.
Her hands slipped, nearly making her lose it. Liv really thought she was a goner, but something clapped down hard on the back of her hands. She sucked in a breath, inhaling dirt from the rock where she was hanging.
The force that had stopped her from falling dragged her hands forward several inches, pulling her up. Grateful for the help, Liv swung her leg over the side of the cliff as she simultaneously scrambled on her elbows. She didn’t stop crawling until she was several feet from the edge.
Heaving on ragged breaths, she wiped the sweat from her face.
“Is it too soon for me to remind you that you shouldn’t jinx yourself?” Plato asked.
Liv gave him a seething glare. “Never is too soon.”
“Well, I’m only trying to help.”
Liv pushed herself to her feet, dusting off the dirt. “Thanks for saving me.”
“I didn’t do a thing,” he lied.
“Sure, sure,” she said, turning to face the door again. “I don’t want that to happen again.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t knock,” Plato suggested.
Liv nodded, striding fast for the door. When she was almost to it again, she felt the same force trying to push her back. This time, though, she sped up, barreling forward until her hand pushed the handle and she threw door back.
It swung, landing against the interior wall with a loud crack. Dust and other smells of old swept from the open castle, making Liv’s nose twitch.
The entryway was dark and cavernous. In the center was a round table filled with gifts covered in dust. Now that Liv was starting to catch her breath, she realized the gothic castle was decorated as if for a party.
Three hallways led in different directions and a set of steps covered in drab red carpet ran up to the second
story. However, Liv’s attention brought her over to the pictures lining the stone wall.
The first was of a young man sitting regally on a grassy knoll, this exact castle behind him. It wasn’t hanging precariously on the edge of a mountain in the photo. The man appeared happy, his blond hair pushed back and an easy smile on his face.
“Okay,” Liv said, drawing out the word and trying to figure out the clues there.
“Do you hear that?” Plato asked.
Liv glanced around. She hadn’t heard anything. Strangely, the place was incredibly quiet and still. And if Plato was there, it meant there wasn’t anyone around. He always disappeared when others showed up.
“I don’t,” she answered.
His ears arched backward as if picking up on a noise. “Be really quiet. It’s quite faint.”
Liv squinted, like that would somehow help her ears work better. Still there was nothing.
She shook her head at the cat. “What is it that you hear?”
“I’m not sure,” he said truthfully. “Maybe a drum?”
Liv blinked. She definitely didn’t hear a drum. There was only silence.
Shrugging, she continued to study the pictures on the wall. The next was of the young man with three other guys. They had their arms around each other’s shoulders and wide grins on their faces. Again, the castle was in the background.
In the next set of photos, the guy was holding a guitar or singing, and sometimes he was alone or joined by one of the other men from the second photo. They appeared to have formed a band.
As if cued by her discovery, Liv noticed that hanging on the walls were different musical artifacts. Platinum records, instruments, sheet music. Everything was so coated in dust that it was hard to make out its original color. Liv brushed her hand over one of the albums on the wall, squinting to read what was written on it.
“Moldy Oranges,” she said. “That’s the name of the band.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember them,” Plato said. “They were bigger than the Beatles.”
“How is that possible? I’ve never heard of them.”
“Well, they sort of disappeared, and all traces of them as well. Strange things happen when magicians pursue creative endeavors. Please remember that, Liv.”
“Don’t worry,” she answered. “I don’t plan on writing so much as a limerick.”
“That’s good, because I’ve heard you trying to rhyme, and it su—”
“Hey, now!” she interrupted.
“I was going to say it supersedes your ability to clean the toilet.”
She scowled at him. “I get that I’m not a great housekeeper, but you’re the one who keeps trying to drink out of the toilet, which really reflects poorly on your decision-making.”
“I’m a cat, what can I say?”
Liv continued to follow the photos on the wall. In the next, the guy was with a girl. She was incredibly beautiful, her long brown hair trailing down her back. Her eyes were on the camera, but the man seemed to see only her.
In the next several photographs, the girl was beside the band at ribbon-cuttings, concerts, and other special events. Liv couldn’t figure out what the pictures were telling her until she got to the next one.
It was a photo of the girl holding out her hand, an enormous engagement ring on it and a satisfied smile on her face. Behind her was the castle.
Liv kept strolling, expecting to find more photos, but they ended rather rapidly. Instead, there was just a long hallway that led to a large dining room.
Liv felt like she was the first guest to arrive at a party when she stepped into the area. The table was set for at least a hundred guests with the finest china she’d ever seen. Beside the place settings were trinkets and name cards.
Carefully, Liv picked up one of the items beside the namecard and read the small card attached to it.
“We thank you for being a part of our special day. May you always find the music in your own heart, as we have found it in each other’s.”
Liv dropped the party favor on the table like it was coated in germs. “Oh, I get it.”
“A wedding gone awry,” Plato said, strolling through the dining hall. “We’ve all been there.”
“Have we?” Liv questioned. “Wait, have you?”
He shook his head. “In spirit, mostly.”
“So this was supposed to be Rooster’s wedding,” Liv said, remembering that Bermuda had mentioned he was heartbroken and tortured about something.
“I think there is still much to learn,” Plato said, continuing to the room the dining hall led to. Liv hurried after him.
The next room was decorated almost as beautifully as Rudolf’s coronation hall. Even though the colors of the decorations were muted due to dust and age, Liv still could tell that it had once been astonishing. It was where the wedding ceremony would have been held.
Wilted flower petals covered the runner. At the front, two candles had half-burned before being extinguished. The light that filtered through the stained glass window showed a blood-red stain covering the carpet where the bride and groom would have stood.
“Oh, no,” Liv said with a gasp.
“Yes, I fear you’re right.”
“Right about what?” Liv asked Plato.
“Right about our groom murdering someone on his wedding day,” he answered.
“I didn’t say that out loud,” Liv fired back, heat in her voice.
“Oh, didn’t you?” Plato teased.
She growled, continuing through a door at the back. There she found a vanity set up with makeup and a veil strewn across the floor. There were also pieces of a picture that had been torn up.
With a flick of Liv’s finger, the pieces rose into the air and put themselves together. When it was whole, she pulled the photo closer. It was of the girl Rooster was engaged to marry, and she was happy. Much happier than she’d been in any of the photos with him. However, beside her wasn’t Rooster, but Liv did recognize the person. It was one of the band members. The drummer.
Liv dropped the picture down and stared at Plato. “Did you say you heard a drum?”
He nodded. “Or something like it.”
“What if Rooster killed the drummer of his band, Moldy Oranges?” Liv wondered out loud. “Because he found out on his wedding day that his fiancée was in love with the drummer and not him?”
“That’s a reasonable conclusion, based on the clues we’ve found,” Plato said.
The room, like all the ones so far, seemed to lead to another one. She started for the door when a noise stopped her, making a chill run down her back.
It wasn’t a drumbeat. She knew the difference. She’d recognize that sound anywhere. It was as old as she was. It was akin to her earliest memories. It was what anchored all mammals to the Earth.
Bu-bump.
Bu-bump.
Very clearly, Liv could hear the rhythmic beat of a heart. It was coming from nowhere and everywhere. It was faint and also loud. It was all around them, and also coming from the faint recesses of the castle.
It was Rooster’s heart.
She absolutely knew it.
Chapter Seventeen
“Do you hear that?” Liv asked Plato as they set back out into the ceremonial hall. It didn’t feel right to her to continue past the bride’s quarters. Something in her core told her the answers she sought were elsewhere.
He gave her an annoyed expression. “Oh, welcome to the party.”
“Talk about bad timing on your part,” she said, indicating the bloodstain on the floor. “I don’t think anyone is partying?”
“But you hear it now?”
“Well, you’re in my head. What do you think?”
“That’s not how it works,” he corrected.
“How am I supposed to know?” Liv asked. “Can you just hear my thoughts, or also see what I see or hear what I hear? It’s all very confusing.”
“Believe me, you have no idea.”
Liv rolled her eyes and continued back
the way she’d come.
“So where is Rooster?” Liv wondered. “And has he been hanging out in this depressing castle all this time, reliving this horrible day?”
A shadow crossed in front of Liv, making her come to a sudden halt. She shivered but wasn’t sure exactly why. At her core, she felt like there was someone else in the room, but when she turned around, the banquet hall was empty.
Deciding it was her imagination, she continued on to the dining area.
“Do you have a strange feeling that we’re being watched?” Plato asked her.
“You’re better at this than I am,” she answered. “Do you?”
“Well, you know how I know when others are around?” he questioned.
“You disappear?”
“Just like a good friend would,” he teased.
“And yes, I know what you mean.”
“Well, I’m not getting that feeling right now,” he stated. “I feel like we’re all alone, and yet, I have the distinct impression we’re not.”
Liv spun around suddenly as if trying to catch someone following her. There was no one there. “Yeah, well, maybe you’re losing your mind, dear Plato.”
“I’ve been saying the same about you after your recent thoughts,” he related.
“Oh, shush it,” Liv said, pausing once they were back in the entryway. Again, the shadow crossed over her, like clouds going in front of the sun, but there were no large windows to make that happen. The lights in the castle were dim, so she wasn’t sure where the shadow would be coming from.
She studied the photos once more, not finding anything new, then turned to Plato.
“What do you suppose we do now?” she asked him.
The constant beating in the background was hard to ignore, but it was also sort of soothing.
“Why don’t you see if Bermuda offered anything new about this case?” he suggested.
She consented, slipping her hand into her pocket to retrieve the piece of parchment. As soon as she pulled it from her cape, words scrolled across it.
“To find Rooster, you must first locate his heart. Reunite him with it, and he might help you. Otherwise, finding the Mortal Seven will be impossible.”