The Last Ever After

by Soman Chainani

  Merlin flicked back a dismissive smile, only to see the caboose of his train missing and Tedros and Agatha on the ground inside the school gates.

  “The wand, Merlin!” Agatha hollered. “Use Dovey’s wand!”

  Merlin frantically pulled off his hat, rifling through it and yanking out champagne bottles, throw pillows, an empty birdcage—

  “God help us,” Tedros breathed.

  Agatha looked back and saw Captain Hook, Jack’s giant, and Red Riding Hood’s wolf closing in on Sophie, the latter’s jaws snapping at her behind.

  “Aggggieee . . . I’m hallllluccinnattinnggg!” Sophie squealed. “Therrre’sss faaamous villlainnssss chassinngggg meeeee!!!”

  Agatha whipped back to Merlin. “Hurry, Merlin!”

  The wizard pulled out a bowl of cashews, a chain of rainbow Christmas lights—“Oooh, these are lovely!”—before he heard Sophie’s screams and glimpsed the wolf rip the hem of her dress as Sophie skidded towards her best friends, who were still trapped behind the gates.

  Pursing his lips, Merlin dug deeper into his hat, his arm all the way in, and fished out Professor Dovey’s wand with a relieved smile. “Goodness, this really should come with a case.”

  “MERLIN!” Agatha screeched.

  Merlin wheeled and stabbed Dovey’s wand at the glowing green gates, which slid open on command—

  Tedros swept Agatha through in his arms and they collapsed together face-first into dirt.

  “Close the gates!” Tedros wheezed at Merlin.

  “No!” Agatha yelled.

  Because Sophie was still bungling towards the opening, the wolf shredding more of her clothes with every second, and the rest of the villain army nipping at the wolf’s heels, poised to stampede through the gate with Sophie. “DON’T STAND THERE LIKE LUMPS!” she shrieked at her friends. “DOOOO SOMETHINGGGG!”

  Tedros drew his sword, but it was shaking in his hand. “There’s too many of them!” he said to Agatha, watching Merlin awkwardly trying to turn his cloud around. “They’ll tear us apart!”

  Agatha saw Merlin flash the same panicked expression, because the prince was right. By the time Merlin turned, the villains would be picking their bones. The three of them needed a place to disappear . . . a place the villains couldn’t get to . . . a cave or a tunnel or a—

  “Wait!” she cried, waving at the wizard. “Your cloak!”

  This time, Merlin understood. He stripped off his purple robe, hurled it into the air like a kite, and with Dovey’s wand, shot it down like a comet into Agatha’s hands.

  Standing in the gate opening, Agatha flung open Merlin’s cloak like a bullfighter, the childish stitching of a night sky shimmering in the moonlight. She and Tedros climbed into the wizard’s cloak, half their bodies magically disappearing into the silk, before the two Evers gripped on to the collar with both hands, like miners about to drop into a cave.

  “Sophie, hurry!” Agatha shouted, holding open the cloak lining.

  Sophie staggered through grass towards the gate opening, the wolf clawing into her petticoat, a giant about to throttle her from the left, Captain Hook hacking at her from the right—

  Only there was another shadow coming from the other side of the shore . . . tall, muscular, and astonishingly fast, smashing out of the trees. “Oh my God! He’s coming!” she choked, as she raced towards the magic cloak, waving madly at Tedros and Agatha. “Help! The School Master’s coming!”

  But it wasn’t the School Master at all.

  It was a pallid, dark-haired boy, weasel-quick and charging towards Sophie, black eyes aflame.

  Agatha gasped. “Hort, no!”

  Forces collided into the cloak, knocking Agatha into free fall. Losing consciousness, she looked up in horror as four bodies, not three, tumbled through a starry purple sky . . .

  Then a blast of white sun blinded her and the universe went dark.

  PART II

  21

  Peer Pressure

  Sophie dreamt of the strange man again.

  She was in the same pitch-black tunnel, her path barred by the towering gold ring.

  Only this time something waited for her beyond the ring. It was Tedros, a king’s crown of silver and diamonds upon his head. Bathed in sunlight, he stood before a white-rose altar in a royal blue jacket, the spires of Camelot rising behind him. Between his hands shimmered a matching queen’s diadem, casting sun flares on his cheeks. The young king met Sophie’s eyes and smiled.

  Sophie lost her breath, gazing at the crown in his hand.

  This was it.

  Her heart’s wish come true.

  All she had to do was destroy the School Master’s ring.

  Without thinking, Excalibur was suddenly in Sophie’s hands, the jeweled hilt warm against her clammy fingers. Lifting the blade over her shoulder, she crept towards the giant gold circle . . .

  But as she drew closer, she saw a familiar reflection in its broad surface, blocking her from her prince. It was the dark, fiendish man she’d seen once before, with untamed hair, skin like rawhide, and a bulbous nose.

  Sophie bared her teeth at him, undaunted. She hoisted Excalibur higher, poised to shatter the ring and the stranger inside it—

  But the man’s eyes stopped her cold: two onyx pools, dead and devil-like, as if daring her to strike.

  Sophie’s hands weakened on the sword.

  “W-w-who are you?” she whispered.

  The stranger grinned cryptically.

  Paralyzed, Sophie looked between Tedros and the devil man . . . between a queen’s crown and a gold ring . . .

  Do it!

  Do it now!

  With a rousing cry, she raised the blade over the ring—

  Two hands stabbed out and caught Sophie by the neck.

  As she choked, the dark man smiled sadly from inside the ring, as if she’d given him no choice.

  Then his eyes turned punishing and he ripped out her throat.

  Agatha woke, gripped with terror, wheezing for air. Peeking down at her black-and-green uniform, it took her a few frantic breaths before she realized she was still alive and sopped in sweat on a hard, thin mattress. She looked up, but her surroundings were washed out by blinding red-orange light.

  Camelot, Agatha panicked, shielding her eyes.

  I’m in Camelot.

  She squinted into the fiery glow—

  A fat face shoved into it, splotched with rouge and emanating bacon breath.

  “I ate your breakfast and there ain’t no more, so don’t bother asking,” Cinderella spat and trundled away.

  Agatha jolted to her knees to see she was back at League Headquarters, the burnt-red glare coming from a sliver of sunrise through the cave hole. The muggy, dusty den was a hive of activity, with all thirteen League members packing up and stripping the cave bare, readying for a company move. On one side, Hansel and Gretel were magically storing furniture in Merlin’s hat, Peter Pan and Tinkerbell were stuffing a dozen satchels with snacks and tins of water, and Pinocchio and Red Riding Hood were scrubbing the last of the breakfast plates clean. On the other side, Yuba studied a spread of open storybooks, Princess Uma and the White Rabbit swept up scraps of black satin scattered on the floor, and Jack and Briar Rose pretended to be working while huddling over a notebook, finalizing their wedding guest list.

  Amidst all this chaos, Hort lingered in front of the moth-eaten curtain shrouding the far cave wall. He was eerily still, biceps folded over his chest, as if standing guard over something. He met Agatha’s gaze for just a moment, then narrowed his eyes coolly and glanced away.

  Meanwhile, near Cinderella’s mirror, Merlin was having an intense conversation with Tedros, who looked clean in taut white breeches and a cerulean shirt, the laces open down his smooth, bronzed chest, marred by a long scar near the heart. Agatha noticed Excalibur sheathed at the prince’s waist, while Sophie was nowhere to be seen.

  “What’s going on?” said Agatha, approaching the prince.

  Tedros turned, his stare
brilliant and blank. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

  Agatha gaped at him.

  “I’m Tedros of Camelot, Heir to Arthur Pendragon, Guardian of Good, and Eligible Bachelor, seeking my future queen.” He extended his hand. “And you would be . . .”

  Agatha didn’t take his hand. “Bachelor?”

  “You wanted a ‘New Beginning,’ remember,” Tedros joked, irritated she wasn’t playing along.

  Agatha felt sick, the events of last night flooding back. Her prince had thought she was in on the lie to pretend to question their happy ending . . . when deep down, Agatha knew they should be questioning it. She didn’t want to be a queen. She wanted an ordinary life, away from the spotlight and people judging her and the pressures of having to look and act a certain way. That’s all she’d ever wanted since she was a child in Gavaldon, condemned by its people as a “witch” and a “freak.” Besides, who was she kidding? She couldn’t be queen of a potato sack, let alone King Arthur’s Camelot! Not without disappointing its people, who deserved a real queen who would restore the kingdom to glory. Not without disappointing its new king most of all.

  “Right. Sure,” she said, stiff as a board. “New beginning.”

  Tedros saw her making eye contact with everything but him. “Look, Agatha. Don’t worry. Everything’s fine. I just have to pretend to give Sophie a chance. So on that note . . .” He bowed dramatically. “Lovely to meet you Agatha of Woods Beyond, Daughter of Callis, and Friend of Sophie. I look forward to seeing whether you’ll indeed make an acceptable queen.” He kissed her hand and winked.

  Agatha yanked her hand away reflexively.

  Tedros gave her an odd look.

  “If you two are finished with your adolescent theatrics, can we get back to saving lives?” a voice snapped.

  Agatha turned to see Merlin glaring blackly.

  “Lovely. Now, Agatha, because of your quick thinking last night, you managed to hide your friends in the Celestium, from where I magically transported all of you to League Headquarters,” said the wizard. “You took quite a blow to your head in the process, so you were hardly coherent and desperately in need of rest. Indeed, you and Tedros had broken into Evil’s fortress and accomplished everything I’d asked: namely, to find Sophie and Excalibur and extricate them both safely. I know how dangerous both these missions were, but we had no choice. Since Sophie’s kiss brought the School Master back to life, only Sophie could undo that kiss by destroying his ring. But now that we are in possession of Sophie, the ring, and the sword, she could finally send him and his Dark Army to their graves, and the three of you would be on your way to Camelot, your storybook closed.”

  Merlin paused. “But I’m afraid there’s been a change of plans,” he said to Agatha. “As you fell asleep last night, you whispered that our League wasn’t safe—that ‘they knew where we were.’ I knew better than to question your babbling, given I’d witnessed the army of famous villains that chased you out of school. So we must move from our Headquarters immediately. The League will split up and hide throughout the Woods, while I escort you, Tedros, Sophie, and that surly, overmuscled Neverboy to a safe house where the four of you won’t be found.”

  “Hort? We’re taking Hort?” said Agatha, trying to keep up. “And why do we have to hide at all? If the School Master is dead, the League can all return safely to their kingdoms just like you said, and Sophie, Tedros, and I can—”

  She saw Merlin’s and Tedros’ faces.

  “Change of plans.”

  Agatha’s stomach dropped. “The School Master’s not dead?”

  Tedros shook his head.

  “Sophie still has the ring?” said Agatha.

  Tedros nodded.

  “Sophie’s still wearing the ring?” said Agatha.

  Tedros bit his lip.

  “How is that possible!” Agatha exploded. “Did anyone talk to her! Did anyone tell her what’s at stake?”

  “Ha!” Hansel pipped, rolling by.

  Merlin smiled tightly at Agatha. “We tried this morning, dear. The entire League tried.” He eyed Uma sweeping up the scraps of black satin. “Let’s just say Sophie won’t be destroying the School Master’s ring anytime soon.”

  “I don’t understand—” Agatha pressed. “She promised to do it once we left school!”

  “Put it this way,” said Tedros. “Last night, Sophie beat Hort with any utensil in the kitchen she could find, saying he’d ruined everything by coming with us and he better scram before she put the rolling pin up his you know what. But ever since we tried to make her destroy the ring, well, not only won’t she destroy it, but now it seems she isn’t in such a hurry to get rid of Hort after all.”

  Agatha followed the prince’s eyes to the buff, black-haired boy standing sentinel in front of a curtained cave wall . . . and a human-sized lump in the curtain behind him.

  “It’s why he’s coming with us,” Tedros said grimly. “She says he’s her bodyguard.”

  Hort barred her path. “Can I help you?”

  “I need to talk to her, Hort. Now,” Agatha commanded.

  “No visitors,” said Hort.

  “Sophie, tell the ape to move!” Agatha barked over his shoulder.

  “Are we going to talk about the ring?” squeaked Sophie behind the curtain.

  “Obviously!”

  “Then no.”

  Hort grinned at Agatha, bangs jagged against his forehead like lightning bolts.

  Agatha glowered witheringly. “Tried to be her roommate, tried to be her best friend, and now you’re her slave. Nice muscles by the way. If only a hot body cured spinelessness and servility.”

  Hort thrust his face in hers, flashing sharp, yellow teeth. “As soon as she’s ready, I’m taking her back to the School for Evil where she belongs,” he hissed, lowering his voice so Sophie wouldn’t hear. “She’s not staying here with these weird old fogeys or anywhere near that . . . that . . . dingleweed.” He locked eyes with Tedros across the room and spat in his direction. Tedros made an obscene gesture at him.

  But Agatha was still gazing at Hort’s jacked-up torso and edgy haircut, her face softening in astonishment. “You really think you still have a chance with her, don’t you? That’s why you chased her. That’s why you’re still here.”

  Hort blinked back, as if she’d seen him naked. Then he sneered savagely. “If you don’t get out of my reach in the next three seconds, I’ll—”

  “Hort, dearest?” Sophie’s voice fluttered softly. “You can let Aggie through. But tell her she has to bring me new clothes and some nail polish.”

  Agatha barreled by Hort, elbowing him in the sternum, and threw open the curtain to find Sophie shivering against the wall, black gown torn to shreds, cheeks pale, hair rumpled, and makeup smeared all over her like a madwoman in an attic.

  “If only the role of Bride of Frankenstein hadn’t already been played,” said Agatha.

  “Aggie, my darling! My poopsie! You don’t know what it was like!” cried Sophie, collapsing into her arms. “I never said I wouldn’t do it. All I said is I needed a little time. And then they descended on me like wolves! Here I am, tickled pink to meet my childhood heroes, and instead Tinkerbell is stinging me, shrieking like a dog whistle, Hansel and Gretel are goosing me with wheelchairs and yammering in that Teutonic accent, Peter Pan is jabbing me with a cane and lecturing me on civic responsibility, and even Merlin—Merlin, who in storybooks is wise and just and kind—shoves Excalibur into my hands as the others yank and peck at me like magpies, trying to get the ring off my finger! And then! Then! That monstrous Cinderella corners me, stinking of a mummy untombed, and threatens in no uncertain terms to sit on me! Yes, you heard me, Agatha. A legendary princess threatening to put her voluminous buttocks upon my face and keep them there until I smash the ring. And you wonder why I find old people so repulsive! Well, now that ring is staying on my finger until kingdom come, you hear me? I will not reward bullying, terrorism, and worst of all, poor manners!”

  Agatha wa
s long used to Sophie’s overblown monologues, but this one even left her pop-eyed.

  “Sophie,” Agatha said, attempting to collect herself. “Their lives are at stake. All of our lives are at stake. The School Master is rewriting famous fairy tales so Evil wins. Every old story Evil makes new brings him and his army one step closer to Gavaldon. That’s where he’ll destroy Good once and for all.”

  “Gavaldon? What does the School Master want with Gavaldon?” Sophie asked, picking at a plate of bacon on the floor. “Do you think I can trade this for a kale omelet?”

  “Sophie!” Agatha seized her friend’s shoulders. “This is a boy who stabbed you through the heart, nearly hacked Tedros in half, came back from the grave, and has a school of two hundred undead villains fighting for him. It doesn’t matter what the School Master wants with Gavaldon. We don’t want to find out.”

  Sophie gulped.

  “So listen, poopsie. I’m going to get Excalibur and you’re going to smash that ring just like you promised,” Agatha said firmly. “Right here and now, with no one watching but me. Got it?” She grabbed the curtain to leave—

  “I can’t.”

  Agatha let go of the curtain.

  “I can’t do it, Aggie,” Sophie whispered behind her. There was a steel to her voice, the frippery and friendliness gone.

  Agatha slowly turned.

  Sophie’s face was a strange, tense mask, as if she’d prepared for this moment but was struggling how to play it.

  “This isn’t about manners, is it?” said Agatha.

  Sweat beaded Sophie’s brow. “I have dreams, Aggie. Dreams of this . . . man. A devil-faced man who I’ve never seen before. But if I try to destroy the ring, he kills me.”

  “Dreams? That’s what’s stopping you?” Agatha groaned in relief. She’d been sure it was something far worse.

  “No, Aggie. This man in the dreams knows me. I can see it in his eyes,” Sophie said, her voice still unsteady. “He’s telling me I can’t destroy the ring. At least not yet.”