A Monster's Paradise (Away From Whipplethorn Book Three)

by A W Hartoin

  “Just avoid them and the king’s guard. They’ll shoot anyone.”

  “Fine. We’re not talking to anyone.” Mom took a deep breath. “Just two flights down and out.”

  I backed away and looked beyond my parents to the other side of the stairs. Clear sailing. I’d be in the Napoleon apartments in a few minutes.

  Dad tapped me. “Not that way. We’re going down, remember?”

  “Not me, Dad. I’m going all the way.”

  Horc jumped around in his bag and his hand shot out of a gap in the flap. Dad hastily stuffed it back down. “Quiet. She’s not going and neither are you.”

  “I am going,” I said.

  “Over my dead body,” said Mom.

  “I came here to find the vermillion. The apartment’s just through there. I can’t stop when we’re this close. How could I face Miss Penrose? What would I say? It got hard, so I came home. I don’t think so. Not today. Not ever.”

  “The red caps know we’re here. We can try again tomorrow,” said Mom.

  “If you think this place is going to be all clear tomorrow, you’re crazy.”

  “It’s not crazy to try and keep my daughter safe.”

  “It is if your daughter is me.” I turned to Dad. “Just get them out and home. I’ll be there when I find the vermillion.”

  “Not a chance. You’re not the only one around here who knows their own mind.” Dad took Horc’s bag off his shoulder, took out my sword, and handed the bag to Mom. “You take Horc. I’ll take Matilda.”

  “Now that is crazy.”

  Dad flew close to Mom and cupped her face in his hands. “We can’t go back with nothing. This town is getting more insane by the hour. It’s now or never.”

  “There has to be a safer choice,” said Mom.

  “The vermillion serve the king. The king lives that way.” He kissed her softly and for a second the luminesence of their wings bounced off each other and made a lovely rainbow glow.

  “Alright, but please hurry.”

  Dad nodded. “Go now. That tour group is an excellent place to hide, like Matilda said.”

  Mom shot a look at me that I couldn’t interpret. For once, she didn’t look mad and I didn’t know how to take it. Horc thrust his face into the gap in the bag. “I must assist. Matilda requires my superior ears.”

  “Not today,” said Dad, pushing at his lumpy forehead with a finger.

  “I am not afraid.”

  “You should be.” I tucked my sword into my belt and covered it with folds of material the best I could. “Those red caps wanted you in the worst way.”

  “I know.” Horc grinned. “I am valuable.”

  I smiled back. Spriggan babies weren’t considered valuable at home in America. Their parents routinely traded them away to get more saleable merchandise, just as Horc’s parents had done.

  “You are valuable. You always have been. I knew it right away. Why do you think I kept you? Now you have to stay with Mom. We can’t afford to lose you.”

  He mulled it over. “I agree. Bring me back some meat.” Then he snuggled down out of sight.

  Meat. Right. I’m sure Napoleon had a good supply.

  Mom flew away to the center of the tour group as it descended the stairs. Soon she too was out of sight.

  “Lead the way,” said Dad.

  We crossed the stairs and entered the Richelieu wing. It was as amazing as the Sully Wing with every area unique and beautiful. There were no red caps patrolling the corridor. The king was in control of his wing. Let the revolutionaries have Denon. This was his.

  I swooped around a man taking a picture of the sign saying Napoleon III blah blah blah. The vermillion were in there. I glimpsed red velvet drapes and a nutty amount of gilded woodwork.

  The cure was this close.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  NOTHING IS EASY. I should know that by now. The apartment was huge. It was a royal apartment, but, seriously, Napoleon III had a palace inside the palace. I couldn’t imagine any human actually living there. It almost seemed like it was designed to be a museum, not a place to really live in.

  So far Dad and I had gone through the royal bedroom, some antechamber/halls, two dining rooms, and had finally ended up in the living room, if you could really call it that. Each chandelier was bigger than Tess’s bathroom and had so many red upholstered chairs in it, I began to wonder how big Napoleon’s family was. I’d never seen so much gilt, red velvet, vases, and potted palms in my whole life. It was all beautiful, but somehow oppressive and demanding. As if the weight of being king lay in his very rooms. If that was what it felt like to be royalty, I’d pass.

  The one thing we didn’t find was fairies. Not a single one, winged or unwinged. Dad and I both thought there would be guards, servants, somebody bustling around to serve the king and his family. Instead the rooms contained only humans and not many of those.

  A bead of sweat ran down my side. I didn’t like it. Where was everyone? I supposed Camille could be wrong and the king didn’t live here. He seemed to think it was a secret, but how could a king govern when no one could find him? It didn’t make sense, but it was the only lead we had.

  We hovered over a grand piano and I wished I’d thought to take my drinking flask out of the bag. I really could’ve used a dose of Lucrece’s tea. My leg ached and had swollen up so much that the boot had gotten very tight and uncomfortable.

  “Are you alright?” asked Dad.

  “Fine. This search sucks.”

  “Definitely less successful than I would’ve hoped.”

  “Only one room left. If they’re not in the throne room, we’ll have to start from scratch.” I started for the door, but found Dad wasn’t beside me. He stayed over the piano with a creased forehead.

  “What?” I asked, flying back.

  “Did you mean what you said about Penrose? Is it really days that she has left?” he asked.

  “Unless Marie gets ahold of Lucien and he has something up his sleeve.”

  Dad put his hand over his mouth and I thought he would start crying.

  “Dad, it’s not over. I’ll never stop fighting for her.”

  That’s when Dad’s eyes filled. “I know you won’t. You never stop trying. You never have, even when you were little.”

  “Then don’t look so sad. We can do it.”

  “If you had enough time, I absolutely know you would find a way, but you have to realize that this time…this time it might not work out. I want you to be prepared.”

  “It hasn’t worked out before and I handled it okay.”

  “You mean your leg. I’m sorry about that. I wish I could fix it.”

  “You and Mom think it’s all about the leg. It’s not. I got injured. I’m not happy about it, but it was a battle. I made a mistake and I payed for it. Lots of other fairies paid a price a lot higher than mine. But I handled it. They’re dead. It’s my fault.”

  “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

  “There’s no other way to feel. It is what it is.”

  Dad looked, I don’t know, disappointed. I don’t know what there was to be disappointed about. If he was waiting for me to break down and cry, it wasn’t going to happen. I’d done my crying when Grandma Vi told me to. “Save the crying for when there’s nothing to be done,” she said. And just then there was plenty to do.

  “Let’s go,” I said. “That throne room won’t search itself.”

  Dad nodded. Maybe he didn’t trust himself to speak. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear whatever it was that he was thinking. It didn’t look good.

  We flew out of the room, gliding around gilded chairs and awestruck humans. The throne room wasn’t as over-the-top as the rest of the apartment. It was almost spartan in comparison. We hovered by the door. Two human families stood in clusters in front of the throne, a blocky-looking chair with a circle back, blue embroidered cushions and, yes, more gilding. Flanking the throne were two vases. They were the vases to end all vases, ten feet at least. What were you suppo
sed to put in there? Trees? It was so odd. Would the king rule here? It wasn’t much to look at. My hand tightened around the sword grip and began to sweat. It felt bad, but no one was there. No one that I could see. We should go around the perimeter, not into the open.

  “Dad, I want to—”

  He was already gone and gliding toward the humans.

  “Dad, stop!”

  He looked over his shoulder and waved me over. He flew between the two families. Something hit him and knocked him sideways out of sight. I darted to the right and made a fast arc around the room. Once I cleared the humans, I saw Dad with his nose rammed into the floor by a gold-winged fairy and surrounded by another four. They were nothing, if I used my fire, and everything, if I didn’t.

  I flew in closer and stayed by a human man’s head and watched them from under a hairy nostril. I could see their mouths, but they must’ve been speaking French. They definitely weren’t red caps. They had the same golden feathers in their hair that I had seen during the battle at Notre Dame. So revolutionaries, but the wings looked like the king’s guard. Except these five wore navy blue uniforms with an odd symbol on the front. A gold circle with a pointy oval inside. It looked very familiar. Where had I seen that before?

  One of the fairies put a sword to Dad’s neck and sliced it open under his ear. I zoomed down so fast I must’ve been blurred. I took off that fairy’s head in one stroke and kicked the one holding Dad down. I stabbed him in the shoulder. Flames sprouted under my palms, but were still hidden. I engaged a third fairy and slashed open his sword arm. By now the other two had recovered from their shock and attacked me. One slit open my shoulder and I kicked him between the legs. He turned purple and staggered backwards. A human stepped toward the throne. I flew backwards. The foot came down and crushed him. I turned to the last one. But he wasn’t looking at me. He flew at Dad, sword raised to strike. Dad stumbled back. He had no weapon. I threw the sword and … missed. By a lot. But it was enough to throw off the gold feather. He jolted away from the sword clattering on the floor. I rammed him with my fists, right in the kidneys. He went down and Dad kicked him in the face. Arms went around my chest, locking my arms to my sides. We were surrounded by a dozen gold feathers. They had Dad by the throat in a choke hold. He watched me as his face turned blue.

  “Stop!” I screamed.

  One with dark hair flowing onto his shoulders landed and walked across the wood floor in pointy-toed boots. “Aren’t you the little fighter?”

  “You’re killing him.”

  “That’s the idea, mon ami.”

  That French I remembered. “I’m not your friend. Let him go!”

  “So demanding.”

  Dad’s face was completely purple.

  “Where’s the king? I screamed.

  That got them laughing with big guffaws and the leader waved off the one holding Dad. He fell to the floor gasping.

  “Let go of me. Where is the king?”

  More laughing. I screamed myself hoarse. The leader came over and slapped me across the face. “Enough. Who are you? How do you know the king?”

  “I don’t know him. I just thought he lived here.”

  He leaned in and placed the point of a stiletto under my chin. “And how would you know that? No one knew that.”

  I said nothing. I suspected there was no right answer. Best to stay quiet.

  “Answer me!” He glared at me and pushed the stiletto’s point into my skin. I didn’t flinch. He liked that. “You’re very interesting, but you will tell me.” Then he jerked his head to the right and lifted his lip in disgust.

  A formation of phalanx wove between the humans’ feet and came to a stop beside us. Camille popped up and said, “Back off, Rogier. She’s mine.”

  Rogier spread his wings slightly. “I captured her. She’s mine. Go patrol the gutters.”

  “I had her first at the cathedral,” said Camille. “She fought with us.”

  “Really? How did she get away, do tell?”

  “I let her go.” Camille popped off his shell and sat on it.

  “Your mistake.” Rogier gestured to another gold feather and he brought forward a rope. “Tie them up. We don’t want to repeat Camille’s mistake.”

  The other gold feather tied my hands behind my back and then tied Dad’s. The rope was cotton. Very flammable. Yes!

  Camille leaned back on his shell, smiling and playing with a dagger he’d produced from a pocket on his abdomen. “So where are the other two?”

  “What other two?” asked Rogier.

  Camille laughed. “She has a sister and a mother. Where are they?”

  Rogier returned the stiletto to my neck. “Where are they?”

  “Why should I tell you?” I asked.

  “Matilda,” said Dad in a warning tone.

  “Yes,” said Rogier. “Listen to your father.”

  “Camille, do I seem like the kind of girl who listens to her father?” I asked.

  He laughed again and came over to me without putting on his shell. I tried not to look at him. Walking around without his shell, he almost seemed naked. “You never listen to anyone, I suspect.”

  “For good reason.”

  “Who is she?” asked Rogier. “What happened at Notre Dame?”

  Camille looked into my eyes, weighing the options. He could lie about me or tell the truth. I had no idea which way he would go. Had it been the commander or any of the phalanx from the mall, I would’ve gone with the truth, but Camille wasn’t like any of them.

  “She led us in battle.” He smiled at my surprise.

  “This girl led you?” Rogier sneered. “Tell me what happened. I hear such conflicting accounts I can’t make sense of it. No one mentioned a wood fairy girl in the fighting.”

  Camille settled back on his shell and told the whole story, including all the details I’d left out like the red line on Iris’s throat and the troll mother. Dad watched me while Camille was talking. He didn’t say anything. His face just got tenser and tenser. Thank goodness Mom wasn’t there. She’d have freaked out completely.

  “She is a friend to the people,” finished Camille.

  “Sounds more like she was forced to be a friend to the people,” said Rogier.

  “No one forced her to save the troll.”

  Rogier paced in front of us. “She came here to see the king. She may be a spy.”

  “I’m not a spy. Camille said the king was here. I wanted to see for myself,” I said.

  “Why?”

  I shrugged. “I was curious.”

  Camille eyed Dad for the first time and my stomach tightened. “What do you have to say?”

  “About what?” asked Dad.

  Good answer. Make them work for it.

  “About the revolution.”

  “We’re on vacation. I don’t know anything about your revolution, except my daughters almost got killed in it.”

  “Ah, yes,” said Rogier. “Back to the sister. Where is she and the mother?”

  I found myself looking to Camille, if for no other reason than to stall. Well… he told the truth. I might as well do it, too.

  “My sister is at the hotel. She can’t hear thanks to your revolution.”

  “And your mother?”

  “She went to see the Egyptian exhibit.”

  Okay. I’d tell some of the truth.

  Rogier came closer, his eyes narrowed. “Won’t she wonder where you are?”

  I snorted. “Hardly. She has to read every single placard. She’ll be there for hours.”

  “Good. I have decided that this girl is a friend to the people and as such, she will remain with me.”

  “I don’t believe she will,” said Camille.

  “Are you willing to pit your hobgoblin against our horen?” asked Rogier.

  Dad started and his eyes bored into me. I ignored him, refusing to react. That’s what that symbol was on their uniforms. It was an abstract of a horen eye. Very familiar unfortunately.

  “The horen
isn’t yours. I’d like to see you tell him that he is. Besides, Ambrosio isn’t here or I would’ve sensed his foul presence.”

  “You do hold a grudge, don’t you? Horens have to come from somewhere,” said Rogier.

  Camille flicked a look in my direction. “I couldn’t disagree more.”

  “In any case, you’re wrong. I’ve sent word to Ambrosio that there is a second spriggan in the Louvre. He’ll discover the creature and get the information we need from them.”

  I cleared my throat. “Why do you want spriggans?”

  I swear Dad’s face went white, but Rogier ignored me.

  “Thesauriser will never tell you anything,” said Camille. “He’s far too loyal.”

  Dad and I looked at each other. Loyal? A spriggan?

  Camille and Rogier began to argue about whether Thesauriser could be made to talk and what torture techniques would be most effective on a spriggan. I crept closer to Dad, moving when no one was looking. My sword still lay on the floor about a foot away.

  “What are you doing?” whispered Dad.

  “Nothing.” I had to touch Dad’s ropes, if I was going to burn through them. I could’ve tried doing it from a distance, but I wasn’t completely sure Dad wouldn’t get a hole burned in him.

  Maxime and the other brown wings flew in. “Spriggans have been seen entering the ductwork in Medieval Louvre.”

  “Leave them to us,” said Camille.

  “Never. I want to capture them, not discuss eels in aspic,” said Rogier.

  Camille picked up his shell, sharp side out. “Are you saying I didn’t interrogate that sea serpent?”

  “I’m saying you discussed cookery.”

  “Sea serpents are difficult. You have to ease them into it,” said Camille.

  “You eased him so easily, he gave us no information. We’ll get the spriggans. You wait here and discuss baking.”

  Camille attacked him and Rogier barely got his sword up to parry the blow. Then they were all fighting, brown wings and phalanx against the gold feathers. If that was the most solidarity they could show, they might as well give up the revolution and go home. I pressed up against Dad’s side and grabbed his hands, trying to look like I was up to absolutely nothing. I needn’t have bothered. No one was paying attention to us.