by Joyce Lavene
“If you’re the Bailiff, why is Canyon still living in the Dungeon?” he asked in a surly tone.
“Not that it matters, but I’m staying at the castle right now.” I was attempting to be polite.
“Well I think you should take your place where you belong, young lady. You have an image to uphold. Living at the Dungeon is part of it.”
He stalked away, disappearing into his cute cottage.
What a grump. It seemed someone hadn’t found a fair lady to spend time with him since there was so much upheaval that day.
“Goodnight to you too,” I called after him.
I walked over to the Dungeon. The outside door was locked. That was a surprise. It was never locked. Even when Chase and I were in bed, we locked the apartment door, not the outside door. I pounded it in case Canyon was inside. There was no response. I couldn’t turn off the noisy prisoners without getting inside.
Not sure who to call about the problem—Chase had keys for every door in the Village—I had forgotten to get them from Canyon. Maybe Bart knew where another set was located. I didn’t want to trudge across the wet grass again, but Sam wouldn’t be the only one complaining if the tortured prisoners didn’t stop moaning.
I pounded on the door again. No answer. If Canyon was inside, he was asleep. I started to head back to Baron’s with a few mumbled curses, when I heard another sound from inside that wasn’t part of the endless repetition of tortured prisoners.
Was that Canyon? Had he hurt himself?
“Canyon? Are you in there? Did you fall down the stairs? Pound on something if that’s you.”
I listened again. No pounding. The prisoners kept crying and begging for help. But in that sound, I still heard something that was different than the taped responses. It wasn’t anyone calling for help, and there was no pounding.
But what if Canyon couldn’t pound on something? What if he was injured? I couldn’t just leave him.
There wasn’t anything I could use to open the door in a conventional manner. But there was a loose cobblestone that was in this Village and mine. I’d noticed it right away—a pet peeve I frequently complained about. Maintenance never seemed to repair it well enough.
I picked it up and hit the lock on the Dungeon door as hard as I could. I knew it wasn’t very solid. It didn’t need to be since they wanted people to go in and out. I had to hit it three times before the lock broke and the door opened with a chilling creak that also wasn’t part of the soundtrack.
“Hello?”
Chapter Twenty-four
It was dark inside. The light switch was near the stairs to the apartment. I didn’t have a flashlight, but I knew this place well. There shouldn’t have been a problem walking from the door to the stairs. The prisoners in the jail cells were further inside.
I put my arms out and scuffed my feet, trying to make sure nothing was in the way.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Starshine whispered. “Go get help. You need help.”
“I can reach the light switch without help,” I told her. “I’ll be fine.”
“No, Jessie—”
I lost that argument as I tripped over something on the floor. Maybe nothing should’ve been there, but it was. Worse, it was lumpy and soft…like a body.
Falling hard over the top of it, I heard a muted cry. Tension and fear raced up my spine as I crawled the rest of the way to reach the light switch and flipped it on.
Isabelle was tied and gagged on the floor. Her dark hair flowed across her face, but I would have known that green gown anywhere.
“Are you all right?” I untied her and she removed her duct tape gag.
“Do I look all right? Reginald has gone insane. He hit me in the head and grabbed me out of my room. Then he brought me here. Where am I anyway? Why are you here, Jessie?”
I helped her to her feet, immediately thinking about her death in my Village. I shivered at her touch and hoped this wasn’t going to be one of those crossover moments. This wasn’t how she’d died, but that didn’t mean anything.
“You’re in the Dungeon. Sir Reginald didn’t know to shut off the prisoners.” I turned off the soundtrack as I explained. “Why did he bring you here?”
“Because he’s insane. Why do you think? Let’s get out of here and tell someone.”
“I’m the Bailiff,” I reminded her. “I’m the one you’re supposed to tell.”
She laughed. “And you’re going to save me from him? Where’s Canyon?”
I checked upstairs in the apartment. Canyon wasn’t there, and it didn’t appear that he had been since he got out of jail, as evidenced by the moldy food on the table. Detective Almond had wanted to see what he would stir up with Canyon’s release. Was this it?
“Are you sure it was Sir Reginald?”
“I was standing in my room talking to him. He was flirting with me—like always. I turned back to get a drink, and he cracked me on the head with something. I think I’m bleeding. We need to call a doctor.”
She was right. There was blood mixed with her dark hair, and a smear of it on her pale forehead.
“All right. The first thing is to get you to safety. He doesn’t want me, so I’m in no danger.”
“He wants me?” She frowned. “What do you mean? He and I have never—would never…”
“I think that was his motivation. He has a thing about his virility and women telling him no. He might be the one who killed the fairy.”
“He killed someone? This is making my head hurt. Where do you plan to take me that’s safe from him?”
“We have to get out of here,” I suggested. “He’s changed his MO, moving you somewhere to kill you in secret. He got away with it last time out in the open, but now he’s getting sneaky.”
“Could you strategize later, and let’s hide until the police get here?”
“Yes.” I considered where we could go. “There’s a big crowd at Stage Caravan. We’ll go there, and I’ll call the police. We should be safe until then.”
“Okay. Let’s go.”
Isabelle was unsteady on her feet. She might be more injured than I’d considered. I put my arm around her so we could move quickly away from the Dungeon. She leaned against me—obviously in bad condition.
I flung open the door to the Dungeon to make our escape, and there was Sir Reginald.
He was wearing armor again. It wasn’t the red and black this time but plain dull gray. I didn’t think he was afraid of Isabelle hurting him—maybe it was a remembrance of his glory days.
It didn’t matter. His long face was as pale as Isabelle’s. I could see the disconnect in his eyes. He should’ve had that heart attack. Maybe it would’ve stopped this.
“Bailiff,” he said calmly. “I see you’ve found poor Isabelle. The man who killed the fairy and the squire attacked her at the castle. I brought her here to protect her. I had to get her away from him.”
“That’s a lie unless you’re admitting to killing those people,” Isabelle accused. “You brought me here because I told you to go away and you were angry.”
“She’s been injured. Help me get her somewhere safe, Jessie. Then we can call the police.”
“I’ve got her,” I said. “You call the police. Let’s walk toward the Main Gate so we can meet them there.”
I didn’t buy his story, but I thought I could throw him off if he believed we were working together. My hand itched to call Detective Almond, but I had to deal with this first. If Sir Reginald had already changed his game plan about strangling people out in the open and advanced to hitting them on the head, he might decide he could kill me too.
“That’s a wonderful plan.” He stepped to the side of the walkway that led to the cobblestones. “You go first. That way I can help you with her if you need it.”
“No! You’re crazy,” Isabelle squealed. “Stay away from me. Keep him away from me, Jessie. You’re the Bailiff. Do something!”
That wasn’t helping.
Sir Reginald took out a gun. “Cr
azy am I, wench? I’ll show you!”
“Now would be a good time for some fairy magic,” I muttered. “I wish I could get out of this without anyone getting hurt. Starshine?”
She didn’t appear, and there was no poof of magic that put Sir Reginald in handcuffs and left him waiting for the police. Fair-weather fairies. You just couldn’t count on them to do anything useful.
It was up to me. We had to get away from him long enough to call for help.
While he was glaring at Isabelle, I pushed him hard. He fell backward, and the gun went off. Lucky he didn’t hit anyone.
“You know it’s illegal to have a gun in Renaissance Village,” I said.
“Why you—”
“Run!” I said to Isabelle, grabbing her arm.
“Call the police!” She half ran, half stumbled out of the Dungeon.
We hid against the side of the building, caught between the sounds of the party still going on at Stage Caravan and Sir Reginald cursing and banging as he removed his armor.
I turned on the radio, but it wasn’t working. Please charge. I hit it a few times but nothing.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered. “Why isn’t it working?”
“It needs to be plugged in.” How many times had I heard Chase complain about the radios not having a long enough charge?
“Great! What now?”
“We run.”
Not a problem for me, but Isabelle tripped on her pretty gown and fell to the ground after only a few steps.
“I think I twisted my ankle,” she moaned.
Of course. Like a bad movie.
“Not now.” I urged her to her feet. “He’s coming!”
Without his armor, and completely crazy, Sir Reginald was after us like a hound after two foxes. He kept calling Isabelle but didn’t shoot anything else. He was probably reserving his bullets for us.
Lucky us.
Isabelle and I couldn’t run, but we hobbled away in the darkness. We finally reached the relative safety of Stage Caravan. The lights were low, but there were still people talking and playing their mandolins.
“Having someone else here will protect us,” I told Isabelle. “And maybe someone has a cell phone.”
But as soon as Sir Reginald arrived, he shot three times in the air. What few people were there ran away in a panic. Isabelle and I stood on one side of the the darkened stage, but we would have to pass right in front of the stage lights to get back to the cobblestones. He’d see us for sure.
Behind the stage was only an old privy and some trees.
“He’s going to see us,” Isabelle whispered. “There’s no way around the stage with him standing there.”
“We need a diversion.” I stared at Sir Reginald. “I’ll make some noise over here and when he starts toward me, you go the other way. You’ll end up at the blacksmith’s shop.”
“I can’t do that. I can barely walk. I’ll make noise, and you get away. Find someone who can call the police.”
It was hard for me to imagine that Isabelle could be brave and self-sacrificing. I’d never known her to be that way. She was right, of course. I’d have a better chance of getting away. Except that if I left her, Sir Reginald would probably kill her before I could get back with help.
“That’s not going to work, but I have another idea. You go over there and hide in the privy. I don’t think he’s crazy enough to look in there, do you?”
“My dress will be ruined,” she complained. “I’ll never get the smell out of it.”
“You can get another dress. We’re talking about your life, Isabelle. After you get in there, I’ll lead Sir Reginald away. You find someone with a phone. Or maybe we’ll get lucky and both of us will find someone with a phone. Now get over there. This is as good as it gets.”
She still whined and complained about it, but she hobbled to the old privy and stepped inside.
I smiled as I thought of her in the abandoned wooden outhouse. No one knew who’d left it here. The Village used the modern plastic kind that a truck came and emptied every few days. The wooden one covered a hole dug in the ground. We joked about it, but most residents never went near it.
It was a gamble that there was enough of Sir Reginald’s arrogance in his addled head that he wouldn’t stoop so low to look in there. Then I realized I would have to stay and watch to make sure he didn’t find Isabelle. Maybe that was more heroic than I’d ever thought of myself, but I had taken on the office of Bailiff. Chase was strong and brave. I could be too.
“What are you waiting for?” Starshine asked. “Run away. Find someone to call for help.”
I peered from behind the back of the stage. “I have to know if she’s safe. Then I can run.”
“You’re letting this whole thing about being the Bailiff relieve you of your common sense, Jessie. You don’t even like Isabelle, and competed for Chase with her. I’m sure you would’ve been glad to duel with her like Canyon did with Chase.”
“This is different. Shh. He’s coming this way.”
The few colored lights from the stage glinted on the large gun he held before him as he walked past me and toward the privy. Starshine stayed where she was at my side. Neither of us moved as he went by.
For just an instant I thought about tackling him and taking the gun away. But even though Sir Reginald was probably in his sixties, he was in fair condition. If I was wrong in even one move, I could be dead, with Isabelle following soon after. I had no doubt that if he shot me, she would scream and run out.
I held my breath as he walked to the privy. I could barely see him glance at it, but I knew the stench was terrible. He covered his face with his free hand and quickly walked away.
Thank you.
He came around the other side of the stage, moving temporary scenery and searching through chairs with his gun ready. He finally gave up a few minutes later and started across the cobblestones toward the King’s Highway. There were lights, music, and laughter at Baron’s. He was probably going there.
That was fine with me. I knew a dozen merchants who lived upstairs from their shops if I walked toward the castle. That would keep me away from him and get the police here at the same time.
But I hadn’t reckoned with Isabelle’s low tolerance for stench. She pushed open the cracked wooden door and stumbled out of the privy, coughing and complaining. I ran to shush her, putting my hand over her mouth as I saw Sir Reginald start back toward us.
“This way,” I urged her. “We can hide behind the Dungeon until he passes us again. Quiet.”
Chapter Twenty-five
The area in front of the shops and along the cobblestones was mostly kept in good repair with daily use of lawnmowers and trimmers. No one wanted a visitor to stumble or catch their costume in tall grass or weeds.
Behind the shops and rides was a different story. As long as there wasn’t any trash back here, the city didn’t care how high the grass was, and neither did Adventure Land. This was a no- man’s land scattered with cigarette butts and the occasional plastic chair or stump where residents hung out.
This was where Isabelle and I carefully stumbled behind the new privies and the big Tree Swing. Isabelle wouldn’t hold her skirt up for fear a snake would bite her, and nothing I could say made any difference. Her ankle was hurt, and she favored it heavily by leaning against me.
Of course this would be a night when no one was outside smoking, singing, or fooling around in the dark where they wouldn’t be seen. We had to keep going until we reached the back of the Dungeon where we paused to rest for a moment.
“I can’t go on,” Isabelle said dramatically. “I’m in so much pain. I need someone to carry me.”
I couldn’t see her face in the darkness to know if she was joking.
“I’m not carrying you. I’m not Chase or Canyon. You’re going to have to limp along until we find someone or I’ll have to leave you here.”
“You wouldn’t leave me, Jessie. You didn’t leave me back there. I think you have the sam
e outdated ideas about loyalty and bravery like Chase does. I guess you two really belong together.”
“Now isn’t a good time to test that theory,” I murmured, listening for Sir Reginald. I knew she was trying to get what she wanted by any means necessary. It was what she’d always done with Chase.
“I don’t know what else to do.” She sobbed. “I can only stand so much agony.”
By this time, I was certain that someone from Stage Caravan would’ve alerted the police. Or someone at the castle would have heard shots fired in the Village. Where were the police sirens? Someone should have been here by now. I shouldn’t have to drag Isabelle all the way to the castle.
She was moaning. Short of putting a gag in her mouth, I didn’t know what to do. Isabelle was small but not small enough for me to carry.
“Come on,” I said. “You’ve rested long enough. The Jolly Pipe Maker shop is next. If we’re lucky, maybe someone will be out there playing checkers.’
“Who?”
“Never mind. Let’s go.” I helped her to her feet. I could barely walk because she was leaning so heavily against me. “You have to shift some of your weight, Isabelle. We aren’t going to get anywhere like this.”
“Are you saying I’m fat?”
“No. I’m saying I’m not a pack mule. You have to move your feet too.”
“You’ve never liked me, Jessie.” She started crying again. “It was always more than just about Chase. You hate me, don’t you?”
“Of course I don’t hate you. I just want to get out of here before Sir Reginald finds us.”
“I always wondered why you wanted to take Chase from me. Now I know.”
“Shut up and walk, Isabelle. It’s not time for you to die yet—at least I don’t think it is.”
Her face was very close to mine. “Are you saying you wish I was dead even though I agreed to give up Chase for you?”
“I don’t wish you were dead. But you had nothing to do with me and Chase getting together. Please try to walk. Sir Reginald could be on us if we don’t get out of here.”
She sat down hard in the grass along the side of the cobblestones and refused to move. “I’m tired. My feet hurt. I probably have a concussion, and I smell like privy. I’m not moving until someone comes for me.”