“Not anymore,” said the prince. He opened Mack and tapped him on his XII.
“What time is it?” Mack cried, and the prince held him up for all his subjects to see. A chorus of gasps exploded behind me.
“What the—?” Mack sputtered when he saw me with the Shadesmen. “What are you bone bags doing to Grubb?”
“Behold the animus!” shouted the prince, and the monsters oohed and aahed.
Mack spun around in the prince’s hand. “Not you again!” he cried upon seeing who held him. “Run, Grubb, run! He’ll turn you into a purple-eyed Shadesman!”
Prince Nightshade chuckled and tapped Mack out on his XII.
“Extraordinary,” said the prince. “I suspected something like this when the doom dogs led me to the street urchins. But a pocket watch that radiates an unlimited supply of animus? Even I dared not dream of such a device!”
“Don’t you touch him!” I cried, struggling against the Shadesmen’s grip. But the prince just ignored me, and upon returning McClintock to his belt, he shouted up at the ceiling:
“Bring him!”
Something roared and hissed above my head, and then a Red Dragon emerged from the opening between the rafters. It appeared to be carrying something—or someone, I realized as it swooped down toward the dais. The trolls made room for the beast, and as it landed with its quarry beside the prince’s throne, I gasped with horror.
The dragon was carrying Judge Hurst!
“Oh no,” I moaned, my heart sinking. The judge’s face was deathly white, his lips curled in a bloodred snarl. And his eyes, ringed with black circles, glowed a devilish purple. Judge Mortimer Hurst had been turned into a Shadesman!
“A fitting end for the old judge,” the prince announced to his subjects. “In life, he made a career of turning people into corpses. Now in death he shall do the same!”
The prince and the monsters howled with laughter—cheering and clapping as Judge Hurst, oblivious to it all, just stood there staring vacantly ahead.
“So you see, young Grubb,” said the prince, silencing the crowd, “this dragon and I owe you much gratitude. By bringing along Alistair Grim’s pocket watch, you have not only guaranteed me my army of purple-eyed Shadesmen, but you have also secured this dragon here a promotion to general.”
The dragon lowered its head and growled at me.
“In addition,” the prince said, “you have saved me the arduous task of extracting the banshee’s animus by force. And for that I am most grateful.”
“Where is she?” I cried, rushing for the steps. “What have you done with Cleona, you devil!”
The Shadesmen pulled me back and forced me to my knees.
“Watch your tongue,” said the prince. “Remember to whom you’re speaking.”
Judge Hurst hissed at me and lurched forward, but the Red Dragon batted him aside and said, “Let me kill him for this impudence, Your Highness. He helped the shinobi slaughter my brothers!”
“Kill him?” said the prince. “Is that how you treat a fellow soldier in our army?”
“Fellow soldier?” the dragon gasped.
“But of course. After all, the boy brought the animus, did he not? Therefore, you and Grubb shall serve your prince together.”
“Serve with my brothers’ murderer?” the Red Dragon snarled. “Never!”
“As you wish,” said the prince, and in a flash he flew straight for the dragon. The beast gasped with terror, but before it had time to escape, the prince drew a sword from his belt and cut the creature down.
“MINE!” the prince roared, and the dragon was reduced to a shimmering explosion of bright red light.
But then something strange happened. The explosion immediately appeared to reverse itself. The light contracted, getting smaller and smaller in front of the prince’s face as if he was inhaling what was left of the Red Dragon into his mouth.
Mr. Grim was right, I realized with horror. Prince Nightshade is absorbing the dragon’s magic!
And with that the last of the red light disappeared between the jagged edges of the prince’s mouth. His eyes brightened, and then Prince Nightshade let out a long, satisfied “Buuurrrp!”
“That takes care of that,” he said, sheathing his sword, and he sat back down on his throne. The Great Hall was silent as a tomb, and the monsters, even the most fearsome of them, cast their eyes down at the floor.
“Very well, then, Grubb,” said the prince. “Looks like you shall serve in our army without the dragon.”
“I’ll never serve you,” I said, bracing myself for an attack. But Prince Nightshade only nodded his head and smiled wide.
“So there you have it!” he shouted, addressing his court. “By refusing to serve in our army, young Grubb has proven himself a traitor and is thus sentenced to fight in the tournament!”
The crowd of monsters hooted and cheered. The Shadesmen released me, and I staggered to my feet, confused.
“Don’t look so bewildered, lad,” said the prince, silencing his court. “Since your pocket watch radiates its animus perpetually, I no longer have need of the banshee. And thus, as you might expect, I shall consume her magic as I did the dragon’s. Publicly.”
“Cleona,” I whispered, my heart in my throat.
“Your death in the tournament shall be our main event,” the prince said. “And of course, the banshee shall provide your funeral dirge.”
The crowd of monsters laughed.
“I wonder if Alistair Grim will mourn the loss of you as he did Elizabeth,” the prince said thoughtfully. “A bit of a sentimental fool, he always was.”
I gazed up at the prince in shock. Did he just say Elizabeth?
“Sentimental and selfish,” the prince went on, more to himself. “All that time and effort spent to get her back, when all poor Elizabeth wanted was to get away from him.”
My mind was spinning with confusion, but my tongue got the best of me. “You take that back,” I said. “Mr. Grim is not selfish. He gave me a home. He—”
Prince Nightshade chuckled. “Your loyalty to your master is charming, young Grubb, but naive nonetheless. Alistair Grim would never have given you a home if he didn’t think he could get something in return for it. Same with the banshee and everything else at the Odditorium.” The prince sighed remorsefully. “All of it for Elizabeth.”
I just stood there, fumbling for a reply.
“How delicious,” said the prince, noticing my confusion. “Alistair Grim didn’t tell you—did he—the reason why he acquired the banshee in the first place?” I shook my head. “Well, I must confess, I had no idea myself until I learned that the Odditorium was actually a ship that could transport him to the Land of the Dead.”
“The Land of the Dead?” I gasped.
“But of course, lad. That nasty little hole in the sky through which you escaped. Why else would Alistair Grim invent an interdimensional Sky Ripper if not to travel to the Land of the Dead?”
I did not know how to answer.
“You mean, Alistair Grim didn’t tell you about all that, either?”
I said nothing, but at the same time remembered Mr. Grim exclaiming, I’m here! during our space jump. And hadn’t he whispered, I was there, Elizabeth, upon our return to Earth?
Who was this Elizabeth?
“Nevertheless,” said the prince, “given that the Land of the Dead is merely another dimension that occasionally intersects with this one, it’s quite obvious that Alistair Grim should use the banshee’s animus to create a bridge between the two. And why else would he want to go there if not to bring back Elizabeth’s spirit and keep her in the Odditorium, safe from the doom dogs and protected by his magic paint?”
“But who is Elizabeth?” I asked.
“Why, Elizabeth O’Grady, of course. The woman Alistair Grim was to marry.”
I gasped. Mr. Grim was to be married? Could Elizabeth O’Grady be the Lady in Black, the woman from the portrait in the parlor?
“Then again,” said the prince,
“in order to put the pieces together, one would have to have known the circumstances surrounding Elizabeth’s disappearance in the North Country twelve years ago.”
“The North Country?” I asked.
“Of course,” said the prince. “That is where Elizabeth’s family settled when they came from Ireland. So, naturally, that is where her family’s banshee settled too.”
I could only stare back at him dumbfounded.
“A tragic story,” the prince went on, sighing. “Then again, all the best love stories are. A broken engagement, a scandalous affair, and a terrible misunderstanding that sent Elizabeth fleeing London in despair. Rumor had it she was already heavy with Alistair Grim’s child, and for months he searched for her in the North Country, until one day word came that her body had washed up on a beach near Blackpool. Drowned, they said. The child, if there ever was one, was never found.”
“Poor Mr. Grim,” I whispered, my heart breaking.
“Something must have happened during Alistair’s search in the North Country,” said the prince. “Something that compelled the banshee to join him back in London. Sly devil, that Alistair Grim. Always was.”
The prince chuckled malevolently, and I clenched my fists, the anger burning in my stomach at his making light of Mr. Grim’s tragedy.
Presently, the Great Hall gates swung open and a loud screech echoed through the chamber. It was the Black Fairy, the wind from his wings caressing my cheeks as he flew overhead and lighted on the dais beside Prince Nightshade.
Then I saw what he was carrying.
“No!” I gasped, for there in the demon’s inky black claws was Kiyoko’s sword, Ikari, its naked blade flashing red in the light shining down from above.
My heart sank and the tears welled in my eyes. Kiyoko would never give up Ikari unless she was dead. And as if reading my mind, the Black Fairy smiled at me and handed Ikari to the prince.
“If you’re as sentimental as Alistair Grim,” said the prince, “you might want to use the shinobi’s sword in the tournament. There’d be a certain poignancy in that, don’t you think?”
The prince tossed Ikari at my feet.
“Besides,” he added dryly, “she won’t have much use for it now.”
The entire court once again erupted with laughter, but I just swallowed back my tears and picked up Kiyoko’s sword.
“Why not just finish me here?” I said. “Why go through all the trouble of a tournament when I surely won’t be able to give you much of a fight?”
“Because I’m sentimental too,” said the prince. “Chalk it up to the old gladiator in me!”
The prince for some reason thought this comical, and he and the Black Fairy again laughed heartily. The other monsters joined in, but I sensed they didn’t understand what they were laughing at any more than I did.
“But seriously,” said the prince, regaining his composure. “This will be the last tournament for quite some time, for now that I have the animus, my subjects and I are going to be quite busy gathering up our army and preparing for war—the first step of which, I assure you, will be the destruction of Alistair Grim’s Odditorium.”
An icy chill whipped through my body. “You’ll have to find someone for your tournament elsewhere,” I said defiantly. “I won’t fight.”
“Oh, but you will,” said the prince. “If you are victorious, your life shall be spared and you are free to leave this castle. However, the victor also has the choice to free someone else in his place.”
“Cor,” I said, suspicious. “You expect me to believe that if I win, you’ll spare Cleona and set her free?”
“If that’s your wish. You have my word on that.”
I looked down at Kiyoko’s sword, thinking.
“You see, Grubb,” said the prince, “as it was during the gladiatorial contests of ancient Rome, a man fights hard for his own life, but he fights even harder for the life of someone he loves. The shinobi understood this, which is why they refused to fight each other but fought so valiantly when given the chance to free one of their own. Kiyoko was the only one ever successful. As for the others…”
The prince chuckled, and his court joined him.
“How do I know you’ll keep your word?” I asked. “How do I know that you won’t absorb Cleona’s magic if I win?”
“You don’t,” said the prince. “But you know for certain that I will absorb her magic if you lose.”
“Then it is decided!” the prince announced, rising. “Young Grubb shall give us our tournament!”
The crowd cheered, and then a loud wailing rang out above the din. The entire court turned at once in its direction.
“AAAIIIEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!” Cleona wailed in the distance.
But rather than feel frightened at her foretelling my doom, a wave of relief washed over me. Cleona was all right.
“AAAIIIEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!” she wailed again, and Prince Nightshade cupped his hand to his ear as if he was straining to hear.
“Do you hear that, lad?” he said. “Your funeral dirge has begun.”
Fortunately, the tournament began at once. I say fortunately because there was no time for me to be frightened as the court prepared for the festivities.
Prince Nightshade gave the order, and the trolls again commenced their slow, steady drumming. The monsters joined in with chants of “Fight! Fight! Fight!” all the while clapping their hands and stomping their feet to keep the time.
I could no longer hear Cleona above the din, nor could I hear what Prince Nightshade said to the Black Fairy before the prince flew up and vanished back into the ceiling whence he came. The Black Fairy gave a deafening screech, and then took off like a shot across the Great Hall and out into the yard. Sirens and other winged creatures set off after him, and then the monsters began moving in a single mass before me.
“Fight! Fight! Fight!” they chanted, pushing and shoving one another as they led me from the hall—the Shadesmen in a protective circle around me, the trolls bringing up the rear with their low, steady death march.
Judge Hurst and the prince’s attendants were behind me too, and as the crowd of monsters spilled out from the castle, on the far side of the yard I spied a massive drawbridge closing into the castle walls. The prince’s crows were perched atop the tower, and a group of goblins was already in position on the nearby battlements. Each goblin held a long, skinny horn, and upon seeing me, they raised them to their slobbering lips and blew a drawn-out, groaning buhwaaahmp!
The drums beat on, and the monsters continued to chant “Fight! Fight! Fight!” as they formed a wide, open circle in the middle of the yard. The Shadesmen escorted me to its center, and then left me there alone with Kiyoko’s sword.
Buhwaaahmp! groaned the horns again, and the chanting crowd broke into cheers. I followed the monsters’ gaze and discovered Prince Nightshade standing on the balcony above the castle doors.
“Fight! Fight! Fight!” cried the prince, pumping his fist, and his subjects immediately took up the chant again.
The drummer-trolls now flanked the entrance to the stables, out of which emerged the prince’s chariot, drawn by four black steeds. My heart sank. Phantom was among them—the Black Fairy must have brought him back to the castle after he killed Kiyoko.
Buhwaaahmp! groaned the horns. Phantom and the other steeds reared, and a goblin attendant rushed over to settle them. A wave of panic rippled through me, and I gripped Ikari tightly with both hands.
I might be Mr. Grim’s apprentice, I thought, but when it comes right down to it, I am still just a humble chummy. What chance could a lad like me possibly have against these monsters?
The first weapon a shinobi learns to use is her mind, I heard Kiyoko say in my head. She was right. If I was going to save Cleona, I stood a much better chance using my wits than a sword.
The prince raised his hand, the drumming stopped, and the crowd of monsters immediately fell silent. Indeed, everything was silent, except for the wind in the battlements.
That’s odd, I thought. If I were going to die, wouldn’t I hear Cleona wailing?
As if reading my thoughts, the prince shouted, “Bring me the banshee!”
Everyone turned their eyes toward the tower as a loud cranking noise began overhead. Near the top of the tower, an entire section of the wall split apart and a small platform extended out over the yard. On top of the platform was a large conductor sphere like the one in the Odditorium’s engine room. But instead of glowing yellow, this sphere flashed and crackled with red and purple light.
“Cleona,” I gasped. I could see the vague outline of her form inside, but I could not see how she was faring, nor could I hear her wailing.
No matter, I thought. I am still going to die. I just can’t hear her wailing because she’s stuck in that sphere.
But maybe something has changed, I answered back in my head. Like when Mr. Grim changed his mind about riding the wasp. The future can be altered by even the most insignificant decisions made in the present, he said.
But the only decision I made was to use my wits instead of Ikari.
“The banshee!” the Black Fairy hissed, and he stepped out onto the platform beside the sphere. The crowd cheered, and the Black Fairy spread his wings and took off across the yard. All eyes followed him as he circled the battlements—but something else had caught my attention.
Neither the ground nor the castle’s outer walls were covered in magic paint. The sun was still low in the sky, so the majority of the yard was engulfed in shadow. And the stench—I would not have though it possible, but the stench out here seemed even worse than in the Great Hall.
“Mack,” I muttered, glancing over at the prince. I could see that the pocket watch was still tucked in his belt. And just like that I knew what I had to do.
The Black Fairy swooped down into the yard, snatched up Judge Hurst, and landed with him on the prince’s balcony. A handful of goblin attendants stepped out beside them, and then Prince Nightshade, leaning over the balustrade, addressed the crowd below.
Alistair Grim's Odditorium Page 20