Alistair Grim's Odditorium

by Gregory Funaro

  “The Black—?”

  “Fairy, yes. Quite an unpleasant chap as you might have gathered, but a shrewd one, nonetheless.”

  Another blast shook the building, and the Black Fairy shrieked outside.

  “It won’t take him long to figure out that the Odditorium is impervious to his fire,” Mr. Grim went on. “Therefore, I suggest we get moving before Prince Nightshade arrives to help him.”

  “Prince Nightshade?” asked Lord Dreary, stunned. “What are you—?”

  Nigel shut the old man inside the birdcage. Mr. Grim threw a lever, and then he and Lord Dreary quickly began their ascent.

  “Take the boy with you to the engine room, Nigel,” Mr. Grim called down. “Gwendolyn is fond of him, and we don’t have time to risk her temper.”

  “Right-o, sir,” Nigel said, and Mr. Grim and Lord Dreary disappeared into the ceiling. “Come on, then, Grubb,” Nigel said, and I followed him over to the large portrait of Mr. Grim that hung between the staircases.

  “Stand back,” Nigel said. He placed his palm on the glowing blue orb in Mr. Grim’s hand and pushed it gently, upon which, along with the muffled sound of gears grinding under the stairs, the portrait slid sideways to reveal a secret chamber beyond.

  “Cor blimey!” I gasped.

  The cavernous space into which we entered was spherical in construction, with a small landing and a steep staircase leading down to the floor below. A line of red-burning furnaces ringed the outside walls, and hanging from the domed ceiling was the Yellow Fairy’s dollhouse. Directly beneath it, at the center of the room, was an enormous crystal sphere with a massive tangle of pipes branching out from it in every direction. At the top of the sphere, a porthole with a hinged steel cover stood open.

  “It’s time, miss,” Nigel said as we descended the stairs, and the Yellow Fairy appeared in one of the dollhouse’s upstairs windows.

  “Oh really?” she said mockingly, batting her eyelashes. “The Black Fairy has got your twiggy boss worried now, has he?”

  “Now, now, Gwendolyn,” Nigel said. “No need to call Mr. Grim names.”

  “And what are you going to do about it, baldy?”

  The Yellow Fairy hurled a shimmering ball of her fairy dust and hit Nigel square in the chest, encasing him in a glowing yellow bubble. The bubble began floating up into the air with Nigel inside, but the big man appeared unconcerned, and calmly lifted his goggles to reveal a pair of eye sockets filled entirely with blue animus.

  My mouth fell open in amazement.

  Mack had told the truth. Nigel was Odditoria after all.

  The big man blinked once, and beams of bright blue light shot from his eyes. They burst apart in sparkles against the inside of the Yellow Fairy’s bubble, and then the bubble turned green and began to fizzle and pop until it dissolved completely and Nigel dropped to the ground.

  “We don’t have time for this, miss,” he said, replacing his goggles. And as if on cue, another blast from the Black Fairy shook the Odditorium.

  “What’s going on down there?” shouted Mr. Grim, his voice crackling behind me. “Why don’t we have power?”

  Nigel rushed over to the wall, where he flicked the switch on yet another of the Odditorium’s mechanical talkbacks.

  “It’s Gwendolyn, sir!” Nigel shouted. “She won’t get into the sphere!”

  “Good heavens! Tell her she can’t break our alliance now!”

  “I can hear you loud and clear, twig!” the Yellow Fairy shouted. “And our alliance said nothing about me spinning around in some big glass ball!”

  “The Black Fairy is retreating!” Lord Dreary said on the talkback. He sounded farther away than Mr. Grim.

  “Gwendolyn, please,” said Mr. Grim. “If you don’t get into that sphere and start spinning, the Black Fairy will return with the prince and destroy us all!”

  “Ha! A big bully is all he is. Besides, I’d rather stand and fight than run away like a bunch of lily-livered humans!”

  “Be reasonable, will you?” said Mr. Grim. “Even a fairy of your power is no match for Prince Nightshade and his army!”

  “So says you, twig! But I’m beginning to think this Prince Nightshade doesn’t even exist. Just another one of your tricks to use me—like that jig yesterday with the samurai!”

  “Alistair, look!” Lord Dreary shouted in the background. “There’s something happening in the clouds!”

  “Gwendolyn, I beg of you!” cried Mr. Grim. “We don’t have time for this nonsense!”

  “You talk to her, Grubb,” Nigel said, pushing me forward. “You’re a child. She’ll listen to you.”

  “But what shall I say?”

  “Well, you might start by asking her to get in that sphere!”

  “Er, uh, begging your pardon, miss,” I said nervously. “But would you be so kind as to get into that sphere?”

  “Ha!” said the Yellow Fairy. “Playing the child card, are you? Nice try, baldy!”

  “No one’s trying to trick you, miss,” I said. “You see, all of this is my fault.”

  “Your fault?” asked Gwendolyn and Mr. Grim together.

  “Yes, sir—uh, miss,” I stuttered, spinning in place. “You see, it was I who tipped off the doom dogs.”

  “Doom dogs?” asked Mr. Grim from the talkback. “Did you say doom dogs, Master Grubb?”

  “Yes, sir. It’s a long story, but the nub of it is I accidentally brought Mack outside and got my pocket picked. The lads what done it opened him, and, well—”

  “He’s telling the truth, Miss Gwendolyn,” Nigel said, holding up Mack. “This pocket watch here runs on the blue animus.”

  Mack must have been shaking in Nigel’s pocket, because when he opened him, the watch cried, “What time is it?”

  Nigel immediately tapped Mack’s XII and closed his case.

  “Let me guess,” Gwendolyn said, her disposition softening. “Without the magic paint to protect them, the lads who used the animus fell victim to the doom dogs.”

  “That’s right,” Nigel said, slipping Mack into his pocket. “And after those devil hounds took their souls to the Land of the Dead, Prince Nightshade turned their corpses into Shadesmen.”

  “Shadesmen?” asked the Yellow Fairy.

  “The walking dead. Soulless creatures what serve only their master. The lads knew Mack here had come from the Odditorium, and so they led the Black Fairy straight to our doorstep.”

  “And where are these lads?” Gwendolyn asked sadly.

  “Mr. Grim’s samurai put them to rest. They’re at peace now.”

  The Yellow Fairy pondered this a moment. She looked close to giving in, I thought.

  “I know you to be a protector of children, miss,” I said. “It’s too late to save them other lads, but should you find it in your heart to save this one”—I pointed to myself—“well, I’d be forever grateful, miss.”

  The Yellow Fairy batted her eyelashes and studied me. Then, without warning, she flew from her dollhouse, circled it once, and hovered above the sphere.

  “If this is another one of Grim’s tricks,” she said, her eyes locking with mine, “child or no child, I’ll gobble you up too!”

  And with that the Yellow Fairy swooped down into the sphere and, closing the porthole behind her, began to twirl herself into a whirlwind of sparkling yellow light. For a moment she changed into the monstrous, toothy ball that I had seen the night before in the library. But just as quickly the teeth disappeared, and the ball expanded and brightened until it filled the entire sphere.

  “Thank you, Gwendolyn!” Mr. Grim cried from the talkback, and all at once the Odditorium began to tremble. “Nigel, you and the boy get back up here immediately!”

  “Right-o, sir,” Nigel said, and we dashed across the engine room and up another flight of stairs, at the top of which was a large red door.

  Suddenly I heard a muffled burst of organ music, and the entire Odditorium tilted and shifted—first to one side, and then the other.

  “
Is the Black Fairy attacking again?” I asked, steadying myself.

  “Not yet,” Nigel replied. “But he will soon. Come on, Grubb. Through here.”

  Nigel opened the door, and once we were on the other side, I realized it was the same red door that Mrs. Pinch had warned me about earlier that morning. Nigel and I hurried down the hallway past Mr. Grim’s shop and into the lift. Nigel shut us inside and pulled the lever, and as the lift began its ascent, I couldn’t help but ask: “What shall become of me now, Nigel?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Mr. Grim said that if I told anyone about what goes on inside the Odditorium, Gwendolyn wouldn’t always be around to protect me.”

  “But certainly the boss didn’t mean protection from him. More likely he meant protection from something like what’s going on outside.”

  “You think so?”

  “Of course. Everyone makes mistakes, Grubb. Even Mr. Grim. But you owned up to it without being asked. And that takes courage and character. And if there are two things Alistair Grim prizes above all else in a person, it’s courage and character.”

  “Courage and character.”

  “Besides, if it wasn’t for you, Gwendolyn might never have gotten into that sphere.” Nigel pulled the lever again and the lift came to a stop. “Then again, if it wasn’t for you, we might never have needed her to do so in the first place.”

  Nigel chuckled and slid open the doors. But as we stepped out into the parlor, we nearly tripped over Mrs. Pinch. She was on her hands and knees, searching for something on the floor, and upon her head she wore a samurai helmet.

  “Pardon us, mum,” Nigel said. “On your way down, are you?”

  “I was,” the old woman said, irritated. “But blind me if all this thrashing about hasn’t knocked off my spectacles.”

  Another burst of organ music caused the Odditorium to shift. Nigel and I lost our balance, and I heard a distinct crunching sound beneath my feet. The three of us froze, and then I bent down and peeled something from the sole of my shoe.

  “Oh dear,” Nigel said. “I think Grubb found your spectacles, mum.”

  The hearth was now ablaze with the same strange red fire I had seen in the kitchen, and in its light I could see that Mrs. Pinch’s spectacles had been completely crushed.

  “My apologies, ma’am,” I said, terrified.

  Mrs. Pinch rose to her feet, snatched back her spectacles, and stared down at me crossly.

  “Nigel, where are you?” called Mr. Grim from the talkback by the lift.

  Nigel flipped the switch and said, “In the parlor, sir. We’ve run into a little problem with Mrs. Pinch’s spectacles.”

  “You mean she’s not at her station?”

  “No, she’s not, sir. And from the looks of her spectacles, she won’t be much use to us there.”

  “Oh, what next!” cried Mr. Grim. “All right, then, you take the lower gunnery. Mrs. Pinch can go up to your station with Lord Dreary.”

  “Don’t change the subject, man!” shouted Lord Dreary in the background. “What’s all this about magic paint?”

  “What shall I do with the boy?” Nigel asked.

  “Oh yes, the boy. Send him into the control room with Mrs. Pinch. I could use an extra pair of eyes. And be sure you take the stairs. I don’t want you getting stuck in the lift should the Black Fairy return.”

  “Right-o, sir,” Nigel said. He flicked off the talkback and twisted one of the blue burning sconces above it. A secret panel slid open in the wall next to the lift, and inside I could see a narrow shaft containing a spiral staircase.

  “You heard him, Grubb,” Nigel said, descending. And as the secret panel began to close, he called back, “And don’t let Mrs. Pinch go bumping into anything!”

  “Of all the nerve,” she said with her hands on her hips. “Why, I could find my way around the Odditorium blindfolded!”

  And as if to prove it, she took me by the elbow and led me into Mr. Grim’s library.

  The room itself had come alive with movement. The desk was in the process of sliding back into its original position over a hidden trapdoor in the floor, and disappearing into the ceiling above it was the large birdcage in which Mr. Grim had dropped down into the reception hall below. The wall behind Mr. Grim’s desk had been raised so that the library now opened directly onto the balcony. All the samurai were gone, and a wide, glowing blue energy shield had been lowered over the balcony’s balustrade. Finally, Mr. Grim’s pipe organ had turned around so that it faced the street.

  Mrs. Pinch and I stepped out onto the balcony to find Mr. Grim and Lord Dreary in the midst of a heated discussion.

  “Magic paint made from dragon’s scales and troll’s blood?” Lord Dreary exclaimed. “You can’t be serious, man!”

  “Don’t you see? Without the protection of my magic paint, the Odditorium could not exist. Even the smallest use of the animus would have given me away years ago!”

  “But—but—”

  “I don’t have time to argue with you,” said Mr. Grim, and he tossed the old man a samurai helmet. “How’s your aim, old friend?”

  “How’s my aim?” Lord Dreary gasped, confused.

  “Mrs. Pinch is the only person who knows how to operate the upper gunnery. You’ll have to talk her through her targeting.”

  “Talk her through her targeting?”

  “Mrs. Pinch,” said Mr. Grim, ignoring Lord Dreary, “you’ll be able to find your way to the upper gunnery and operate the controls effectively?”

  “I outfitted the gunneries myself, didn’t I?” replied the old woman. “Blind me if I couldn’t operate the entire Odditorium with my eyes closed!”

  “Very good. On your way, then.”

  “Yes, sir. Come along, Lord Dreary.”

  “But—but—” the old man sputtered, but Mrs. Pinch took him by the elbow and quickly led him out.

  Mr. Grim sat down at his organ and flicked the switch for the talkback on the keyboard. “Are you in place, Nigel? Do you have a visual?”

  “Ready, boss,” Nigel replied.

  I stepped closer to the edge of the balcony. Gazing down through the transparent blue energy shield, I discovered that not only had the buttresses unfolded themselves into a set of mechanical spider legs, but also the entire Odditorium had risen a full two stories off the ground.

  “Very well, then,” said Mr. Grim. “We’ll discuss your part in all this later, Master Grubb. But for now you must act as my lookout. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir. But, begging your pardon, sir—what am I looking out for?”

  Out of nowhere, an armored skeleton swooped down atop a skeleton steed and swiped a huge battle-ax at me as he passed. The blue energy shield flashed like lightning, and I let out a shriek and fell backward onto my bottom. Mr. Grim calmly turned to me and said:

  “Something like that, I should imagine.”

  Although many of the Odditorium’s secrets had only been revealed to me in the moments immediately following the Black Fairy’s attack, I would not actually get to see Mr. Grim’s gunneries until much later. Nonetheless, I think it best to skip ahead a bit and describe them so you won’t be as confused as I was when the battle began.

  The Odditorium had two gunneries, one upper and one lower. The upper gunnery was the larger of the two and consisted of a turret with four cannons. When not in use, the cannons stood upright in the guise of the Odditorium’s chimneys, while the turret appeared as just another inconspicuous black dome at the center of the roof. Once everything was activated, however, the chimneys tilted sideways and locked into place around the turret, a portion of the turret gave way to a blue energy shield, and the entire contraption began to track across the Odditorium’s roof.

  The lower gunnery, on the other hand, was outfitted with just two cannons, and could only be accessed through a porthole directly beneath the great sphere in the engine room. And just as the upper gunnery could track atop the roof, so too could the lower gunnery glide along the Oddito
rium’s belly.

  Of course, I didn’t know this at the time, and as more armored skeletons began to attack, I had only a vague sense of Mrs. Pinch and Lord Dreary being somewhere above me, and Nigel being somewhere down below.

  “Can you hear me, Cleona?” said Mr. Grim into the talkback on his organ. “Why aren’t you at your post?”

  “I’m here,” replied a gentle voice that I immediately recognized as belonging to the young girl I’d heard outside the trunk. Cleona the trickster. “I was looking for my comb,” Cleona said. “You wouldn’t happen to know where it is, now, would you?”

  “Oh, thank goodness you’re safe,” said Mr. Grim with a sigh. “I thought for a moment that—”

  “Pshaw. You worry too much, Uncle.”

  “Then you’re aware of what’s happening outside? You know this is not a trick?”

  “Much too elaborate a trick for the likes of you. But as for hiding my comb, that’s going a bit far, don’t you think? After all, it was just a little chalk on your paintings. It comes right off.”

  Of course! I thought. The portraits I saw last night in the upstairs gallery—it was Cleona the trickster who drew all those chalk mustaches. And A.G. has a spotty bottom—A.G. stood for Alistair Grim, which meant the portrait must be of Mr. Grim as a little boy!

  “We’ll talk about your comb and my spotty bottom later,” said Mr. Grim, flicking another switch. “How about you, Mrs. Pinch? Are you and Lord Dreary settled in the upper gunnery?”

  “Good heavens!” Lord Dreary exclaimed over the talkback. “There are hundreds of those skeleton soldiers coming our way!”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  Mr. Grim pressed some buttons on his organ and the Odditorium began to tremble.

  “All right, everyone,” he began. “Wish we could’ve had time for another drill, but things being what they are, I’m hoping you’re not rusty.”

  “Pshaw,” Cleona said. “We’ve drilled this so many times I’m full of holes.”

  Nigel and Cleona snickered over the talkback, but Mr. Grim ignored them.

  “Now remember, gunners,” he said, “until we’re clear, I ask that you take great care when firing at Nightshade’s soldiers. No need to turn our beloved London into rubble over an army of Shadesmen.”