Envy and Jealousy
September Rip-out-their-Hearts 15
I’ve just seen this in a magazine. Those psycho fools Wings and Randle are up to their old tricks.
Hannibal indeed! Bah, I am above such petty evil! And Damien? As if I were the son of the Devil? I am the Devil!
Dirk sat at his desk, staring emptily up at the ceiling, worrying about Sooz. Around him sat many human children, listening to Grotty Grout the social studies teacher drone on and on about the Second World War.
Normally Dirk loved history lessons—well, he didn’t love them, rather it was one of those classes that he found the least dull, especially when it was about evil dictators and huge battles with tanks and planes and big guns and all the rest. Oh, what he wouldn’t give for a few tanks back in the Darklands!
But today he couldn’t concentrate. He got the DarkPhone out of his pocket and checked it. No, nothing.
“Dirk Lloyd, no phones in class! How many times do I have to tell you!” said Mr. Grout.
“Sorry, sir,” said Dirk, putting the phone away, while also mouthing the syllables to the Spell of Utter Annihilation and imagining Grotty Grout being smeared all over the whiteboard like strawberry jam.
Grout narrowed his eyes. Something was up with Dirk. Normally he would have come back with a smart comment or corrected him on some historical point to make him look bad in front of the class but today he seemed different somehow. Somehow normal. Almost.
Suddenly, a scream of terror filled the air! Grout and the rest of the class started in shock, except for Dirk, who knew it was the text message alert on his phone. Dirk leaped to his feet, and drew his phone out again.
“I said no phones!” yelled Grout. Dirk just waved him into silence, as if he were an irritating fly.
“How dare you!” said Grout. “That’s a detention right there, boy!”
“Of course, sir,” said Dirk, “but don’t you think you should send me out of the class as well? Only I have an important call to make. If not, I will simply sit here and loudly sing ‘The Star-Spangled Banner,’ easily the best of all your absurd earthly national anthems, until you do.”
The rest of the class started to titter and giggle at this. Grout just stared at him. What was he thinking, comparing him to a normal boy? Then he sighed. What was the point?
“All right, Dirk. Get out. And stay after school for detention,” said Grout, knowing that the best the teachers could ever hope for was that Dirk would at least pay lip service to the rules.
“Thank you, sir,” said Dirk, “I deserve it, I really do.”
“Ha, I’m sure you do, boy!” said Grout, shaking his head. Only Dirk would thank you for giving him a detention.
Dirk rushed out. In the hall, he checked the latest text.
DRK! CLL ME!
And that was it. “By the Nether Gods, I hope she’s all right,” he muttered to himself as he put the phone up to the side of his head, waiting for the comforting feel of the little arms as they reached out to grasp his ear. He put his hand down after it had done so. The phone remained in place. See, hands free!
It rang only once before Sooz took the call.
“Dirk!” she said.
“Yes, it’s me. Are you all right? What’s happened?” said Dirk.
“Yes, I’m fine, more than fine in fact! It worked per-fectly! I got the Black Slayer’s Bane from the Library—all that stuff about the ghost of his first love, the woman he sacrificed to evil and all that—I mean, wow, what a bad dude that Black Slayer was, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, he was a most useful lieutenant, it’s true,” said Dirk.
“Anyway, we met face-to-face with Hasdruban and his army and everything. It looked really, really bad, but I did it, I released the ghost, and she got rid of the Slayer! And then Belchvile came over to me with the whole Legion!”
“What, Captain Belchvile and the Legion of Merciless Mayhem?” said Dirk in amazement.
“Yeah, and they all swore that oath thing to me as well,” she said.
Dirk’s jaw dropped. The Legion of Merciless Mayhem! They were one of his elite legions, one of the best in the whole Darklands horde. He couldn’t believe it! They’d sworn an oath of fealty to a twelve-year-old human girl-child? Incredible!
“So we won, and Hasdruban had to get lost with his tail between his legs, and then everyone started chanting ‘Queen Sooz! Queen Sooz!’ Even my paladin and my human soldiers!” said Sooz in a rush.
“You have a paladin? And humans?” said Dirk, even more astonished.
“Yeah, Rufino. He and the rest of the humans live with my Orcs and Goblins in Soozville, the new town we’re building. They live together in peace and everything!” said Sooz, gushing.
Dirk frowned. He was starting to get annoyed. And jealous! She was taking over, pushing him out! Not only that, she was forging unheard-of alliances, and even founding cities. She was doing better than he had!
“Dirk, are you there?” she said.
“Yeah,” he muttered resentfully.
But Sooz didn’t notice the tone of his voice, she just gushed on. “They call me the Queen of the Dark now, the Magnificent Moon Queen, and stuff like that. It’s great!”
“I’m so happy for you,” said Dirk sarcastically. “I hope you’re having fun, taking over my life!”
“What? No, it’s not like that, Dirk, really. I don’t want to take over—I want to come home, I want to see you. I’d much rather you were here, really I would, so that you could do all this ruling stuff.”
“Yeah, right, well for someone who doesn’t want to take over, you’re doing a great job of doing exactly that—your Magnificence,” he said bitterly.
“Oh please, Dirk, please don’t be angry with me … Wait a sec, something’s up. Hold on—RakRak’s back from patrol.”
Dirk frowned. Things went quiet for a moment or two, and then Sooz came back on, her voice full of fear and panic.
“We’ve been set up! Whole thing was a trick! An army of Elves or something has turned up from the other direction while we were doing in the Slayer! And Hasdruban has come back, with the rest of his army, even bigger than before! They were just behind him, hiding behind some hills or something! Help, Dirk, we’re surrounded! What do I do?!”
“Bah, don’t ask me, Sooz, you’re the Great Queen of the Dark, you figure it out!” replied Dirk, and with that he hung up, stuffing the phone back in his pocket. Maybe Hasdruban would be doing him a favor, getting rid of this little upstart usurper for him!
He stood there blinking for a moment. He could hardly believe what he’d just done. All right, he’d been angry and jealous—she was doing far too well for her own good, but obviously she was out of her depth now. Hasdruban had managed to get rid of the Slayer, and get most of the Army of the Dark in one place. Clever. An army of Elves and humans in a pincer movement? She was doomed. He’d be doomed if it was him! Well, no, he wouldn’t, he’d have found a way—he always found a way. Dirk sighed. He couldn’t leave Sooz to her fate like that, he had to help her, put aside his anger and jealousy or he could lose her forever and he couldn’t bear that. And none of it was her fault, not really. She didn’t ask to go there, any more than he’d asked to come to earth.
He pulled the phone out and called her back. But nothing happened—it didn’t ring. After a few seconds, he received an automated message.
“This is the DarkPhone Network. That person’s phone is turned off or is unreachable at the moment. Please try again later.”
Dirk froze. Sooz’s phone had run out of power. Desperately, he tried texting, but again it came back with “Unable to deliver message.” Dirk put his face in his hands. What had he done? Had he just abandoned his friend to almost certain death?
Dirk shook his head in despair. He had to get back to the Darklands. But how to do it? How?
Vengeance of the White Witch
Christopher and Dirk sat in Dirk’s room, poring over various maps and notes scattered all over the room. Dirk had
drawn a big map from memory of the various planes and dimensions around the Darklands, and had written a list of all the possible spells and ceremonies that could conceivably be used to travel between them. Everywhere lay jottings and scribblings, usually explaining why this or that spell or ritual wouldn’t work.
Dirk put his head in his hands. “It’s no good, Christopher, I just can’t find a way to get through to the Darklands. The Ceremony of the Eclipse of the Gates of the World is the only one we could even think about getting the ingredients for, but that also needs an eclipse, and there isn’t going to be one of those any time soon. What are we going to do?”
“You say that, Dirk, but what about this one, The Sundering of the Walls of the Worlds? It needs the blood of an evil dictator—well, that could be you, right, the feathers of a Black Storm Crow—we’ve actually got one of those right here!”
Dave the Storm Crow gave a caw of outrage. Chris stared at it for a moment. It was almost as if it understood exactly what he’d just said.
Dirk gave a little knowing smile. “Go on, Chris, what else?” he said.
“Well, the spell has to be cast in a place that is used for travel or movement—we’ve got loads of those on earth, like a train station or a bus station or an airport!”
“True,” said Dirk. “Go on.”
“And then you need a Reality Knife for cutting the fabric of the universe itself … Oh …,” said Chris.
“No, no, we could actually make one of those, it could be done,” said Dirk, “so go on.”
“Let me see now … Ah, the still-beating heart of an innocent … recently torn from their breast with the Claw of Ripping Death … Oh … ah … I see.”
“Yes,” said Dirk. “You see the problem, huh? The Claw of Ripping Death is a spell that won’t work on this plane.”
“Oh, that’s the problem, huh? Not, you know, killing someone or anything!” said Chris.
“Well, I did consider ripping out your heart, as you’re perfect for the sacrifice, but it has to be done with the spell, and that’s that,” retorted Dirk.
Chris went pale for a moment, unsure as to whether Dirk was joking or not. Dave the Storm Crow hopped from foot to foot, cawing loudly. Chris stared at it in fascination once more. Was it laughing at him?
Chris frowned in irritation. “Anyway,” he said, “I’m not innocent, I’m really bad!”
“Oh, please!” said Dirk dismissively. “Like you’re ‘so baaad.’ I mean, when was the last time you even got a detention?”
Chris made a face. “All right, all right—but did you really think about sacrificing me like that?” he said worriedly.
“Of course,” said Dirk. “You’d make an excellent sacrifice!”
Chris’s jaw dropped.
Then Dirk chuckled and slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, old friend, I’m joking,” he said. “I’d never do that to you!”
Chris grinned with relief, that’s just what he’d wanted to hear. Of course he wouldn’t do that, of course not!
“Well, not to rescue Sooz, at any rate,” said Dirk absentmindedly as he turned back to his spell lists, his astrological charts, star maps, and inter-planar cartograms.
Chris frowned. He continued to search the spell lists, but every now and then he would glance over at Dirk, that worried look back on his face.
After a while, Dirk looked up. “What? What is it Christopher?” he said.
“You wouldn’t really sacrifice me would you?”
“No, of course not, I told you,” said Dirk.
“Yeah, but … but what if it was … Well, say if it was to save yourself or something?” said Chris.
“Ah, to save myself! Well, now, that’s a different matter,” said Dirk, and he gazed up at the ceiling, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
Chris gaped at him. Surely he wouldn’t!
Dirk looked back at him. “I don’t think I would.” Then he saw Chris’s face, and he laughed.
“No, no, I wouldn’t, of course not,” he said reassuringly. Chris smiled back at him weakly.
“That’s okay then,” Chris said. And then nodded, having convinced himself thoroughly of the matter. Of course he wouldn’t! His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden loud knock on the door.
“Hold on a second,” said Dirk. Quickly he shooed the crow out of the window and hid his strange maps and charts as best he could.
“You may enter the domain of the Great One,” he said imperiously.
The door opened, and in walked Dumpsy Deary. Dirk narrowed his eyes and prepared himself for some kind of magical assault while Chris actually flinched in his chair.
The White Lady stood there and then smiled a creepy, red-tongued smile.
“What do you want, Witch?” Dirk said commandingly.
That just made her smile even more. With a sneer of contempt she tossed a sheet of black paper at Dirk. Words were written on it in white ink. Dirk snatched it up and read it. Chris read it over his shoulder.
“Bah, I do not believe you,” said Dirk. “It’s a trick!”
The White Lady smiled again, and tossed a cell phone at Dirk’s feet.
“Sooz’s phone!” said Christopher in shocked surprise. This was followed quickly by something else.
“By the Nine Netherworlds, Sooz’s AngelBile bag! It cannot be!” said Dirk, leaping to his feet.
Christopher gasped, and Dirk’s face fell. “Noooo!” he cried. “They have her, they have my Sooz!”
Miss Deary began to cackle insanely, her maniacal laughter getting louder and louder.
“Heh, heh, heh! HEH, HEH, HEH, HEH, HEH!”
She turned and left the room, her laughter echoing down the hall. Dirk hung his head dejectedly. The Storm Crow flew back in through the window to perch beside them once more. It gave a caw of despair, as if in sympathy.
“What’s going on?” said Christopher. “What’s the White Tower?”
“It is the lair of Hasdruban. He has taken her. That means he has defeated her armies and everything. It also means he has my Ring. This is a disaster! I have to get back to the Darklands or all is lost! But how, how?”
Chris gazed at the freaky bird, thinking. He cocked his head, struck by a sudden thought.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “How did Miss Deary get Sooz’s phone and her bag? I mean, she must have gone to the Darklands, picked them up, and then come back again, right?”
“By the Nether Gods, Chris, you’re right!” said Dirk, his face lighting up with a kind of unholy glee. Then his brow furrowed. “But then again, they could have just sent her stuff over. Though actually, either way, there has to be some way of getting back and forth. We have to find out how! You are a genius, Christopher, a genius—well, as far as a puny human can be a genius, that is!”
“No problem, your Dirkness, happy to help,” said Chris, grinning. It wasn’t often Dirk called him a genius! Though he did call him a puny human fairly often.
“All we have to do is follow her, find out how she does it,” said Dirk.
Chris frowned. “Won’t be so easy to follow her, she’ll be on her bike for starters, but also, she’s … Well, she’s pretty alert. She’ll spot us!”
“Hmm, you are right, Chris, she can sense us, it is true. Holy Awareness and all that,” said Dirk thoughtfully, stroking his chin like some kind of super-villain—which of course he was.
“Ah,” said Dirk, “I have it! We’ll send Dave the Storm Crow to track her, and we’ll follow the bird! That way she’ll never spot us!”
“Awesome!” said Chris. “But how will you get the crow to follow her?”
“Easy,” said Dirk. “Dave!” he said addressing the crow. The bird looked up at him, blinking. Dirk leaned down and began to whisper something in its ear. After a short while the crow gave a caw of delight, and flew out of the window to perch on the roof gutter overlooking the Purejoies’ back porch.
“There,” said Dirk, “he is waiting for that absurd do-gooder, Humpsy Jeery, to leave the hou
se. Then he will track the Witch, and we shall track the crow!”
Somewhere deep underground …
The little girl sat on a hard wooden bench in a dirt-floored, stone-walled prison cell and cried. Her hair was a mess and the makeup on her face was streaked with dirt and tears—many tears. Her black, silver-threaded dress was ripped and torn, and her bare feet were scratched and bleeding. One of her hands was bandaged up roughly, the other was badly bruised where a ring had been roughly ripped from her finger.
She was alone.
Part Four: Into the Unknown!
The Voyage
The crow had tracked the White Witch to a back alley somewhere on the rougher side of town, and now Dirk and Christopher were spying on her through the window. So far, she hadn’t noticed they were there because she was so intent on what she was doing. She was standing in the middle of some kind of magic circle drawn on the ground in white chalk. It was made up of a complex pattern of pentacles, triangles, circles, symbols, and glyphs. Slowly “Miss Deary” began to turn on the spot, mumbling to herself. Then she started hopping and stepping on various symbols and glyphs in a complicated dancelike pattern.
Dirk held up his DarkPhone and clicked a button. A slimy-looking tendril of pale, pink flesh extended from the back of the phone toward the window. On its end was a little eye.
“Yuk!” cried Chris. “What’s that?”
“Silence, you Goblin-brained half-wit!!” hissed Dirk. “I’m filming her.”
Chris blinked. Right. The eye was the DarkPhone’s camera. Gross!
The White Witch began to chant as she danced, obviously some kind of spell or ritual song. As she stepped on certain shapes, her silver boots began to take on a spectral transparency. Suddenly, she gave a cry, and took several forceful steps and then … disappeared with an audible pop!
Chris’s jaw dropped. “Wow!” he said.
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