“Well, a day or a week, I would bet you’re hungry by now,” Ignacio pointed out.
Charlie heard his stomach growling in agreement and realized that he was definitely hungry, as hungry as he had ever been, maybe.
“I’ll throw something together for you,” Ignacio said, adding some wood to the fire. “I’ve had some time to forage and was pleasantly surprised at the findings.”
They ate leafy greens and roots that the Ranger had found among the trees around the coast and fish that he had spent the week smoking. As they ate, they told Ignacio of what they saw—the strigoii and the strange sensation of being in the woods. They told him of the swirling dust and Billy. Abigail again wasn’t hungry but sat near them in the sand by a gnarled root and hummed to herself as she fiddled with her ragged clothes.
“So, what now?” Ignacio asked, offering Franklin some tobacco for his pipe.
“We will see what this night brings and decide in the morning,” Franklin said, accepting the pouch. “I am not sure that we have seen the last of what this island has to offer.”
WHEN THE SUN FINALLY SET, THE MIST CLEARED TO REVEAL the stars high overhead. A short time later, a flock of magpies appeared from the woods and flew out over the water, followed by the Prime Minister, who slowly walked up the beach and approached their camp.
“May I join you?” he asked.
“Always a question worth considering,” Franklin said. “But, of course. Please, warm yourself by our fire.”
The Prime Minister sat with them, and Franklin and Charlie recounted their experiences once more. The Prime Minister was not the least bit shocked by the time that had passed since their departure for the woods.
“Just a day to you all,” Ignacio said. “While I sat here in the rain all week.”
“I saw Billy,” Charlie said.
“I can see that,” the Prime Minister replied. “I can see in your eyes that a burden has lifted.”
“He said he would be back tonight.”
The Prime Minister looked over to Abigail. “This much I have gathered.”
They sat around the fire and spoke well into the night. As the hours wore on, Abigail curled up in a blanket to sleep. A low, heavy rumbling soon said the same of Franklin and the Ranger. But Charlie did not sleep. He was simply too excited by the day’s events. He sat with the Prime Minister, listening to the sound of his friends sleeping until the vampire broke the silence.
“You know, Charlie, I knew when we met what ailed you. I could see it in the way that you carried yourself. I could see the anger, the sadness in your eyes . . .”
“I guess so,” Charlie admitted. “At least, that’s what they said back at school.”
“I cannot speak for them, Charlie, but I could see it, because I understand. I too was like you. Out of love, I held on to someone after they were gone.”
“You did?”
“Yes . . . she was my love, my one true love . . .”
Charlie remembered the last portrait of the Prime Minister that hung at the foot of the stairs in his castle. He pictured the girl standing next to him and her warm smile.
“A long time ago but to me, like this place, a mere blink of the eye,” the Prime Minister said. “My love was there, there the night when this happened, the night I was turned. Only she did not survive . . .” The Prime Minister seemed to lose himself in thought as he stared deeply into the fire. “I held her hand as our attackers left us for dead,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. “I can still see her there, covered in her own blood as I was covered in mine.”
The Prime Minister turned to Charlie; he could have sworn there were tears in his sullen eyes.
“But then moments later, we were here, here in these woods, Charlie. And she looked magnificent. She was no longer hurting, no longer in pain. Her hideous wounds were healed, and I will tell you, she lit the forest. Truly, a vision . . . a thing of beauty . . . but then, as quickly as we were here, reunited, I was gone again. Pulled back to this world, back into the pools of our blood, able to rise but cursed to rise alone . . .”
The Prime Minister clicked his long fangs, but this did not frighten Charlie as it had when they first met.
“I held on to her, Charlie, and with my anger I swore a path of vengeance. Vengeance that I saw served, but that ultimately hurt her more than the brutality that saw to her end. My rage is what held her here, Charlie. It held her, until I was able to find some semblance of peace . . .”
The Prime Minister looked away, out toward the open water.
“Did you see her again? Here in the woods?” Charlie said.
“I did,” the Prime Minister replied. “And now she is finally able to move on . . .”
It was Charlie’s turn to stare at the fire.
“Is that why you helped me? To get here for yourself?”
“No, I could have come at any time like I am here now. But I recognized that part of myself in you, Charlie, the anger, the pain. I knew then what I had done and knew that if I could help you, I should. In turn, you inspired me to do what I knew I had to do all along . . . and now I have.” The Prime Minister threw a small piece of driftwood on the fire. “I thank you, Charlie. As I am sure my true love thanks you and Billy thanks you. And soon so shall young Abigail.”
“Abigail?”
“Those chains were what held her, Charlie. They interrupted her journey. The chains were Abigail’s burden. And you helped her find her way here. You freed her, as I gather you have now freed yourself.”
Charlie’s thoughts turned back to what he and Billy had talked about under the towering trees. He thought about what his parents and Old Joe and Ms. Hatchet and the counselors back at school had all said, trying to help him over the course of this particularly long year. And he thought about Abigail.
“What happens to her now?” Charlie asked softly.
“You know, Charlie. Just as you knew but couldn’t accept about your Billy.”
The Prime Minister turned, and the firelight danced in the pearly white of his pointed teeth.
“Abigail is home now. Though we may never know what happened to her, we can rest knowing that she is now where she belongs.”
Charlie looked over at Abigail. She did look happy as she slept.
“Let us all take solace in that . . .”
Charlie and the Prime Minister walked down to the shore and stood looking out at the moonlight that danced on the water. It was cold away from the fire, but Charlie did not mind. They stood there until they felt a sudden shift in the wind and then turned to face it as it blew heavily from the woods.
There was a glow to the trees that whirled onto the beach and spun toward them near the water’s edge. Charlie felt the warmth wash over him again and saw Billy’s shape form in the swirling light. But as the whirl subsided, Charlie saw that Billy was not alone. There was Abigail Rose, also aglow, standing next to him, holding his hand.
“I checked. No one is sure how she lost her way. Maybe it was those chains,” Billy said, echoing the Prime Minister’s words. “Either way, it’s good she finally made it.”
Standing there, next to Billy, Abigail looked as happy as Charlie had ever seen her.
“Thank you, Charlie,” Abigail said, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek. This time, her touch was not cold. Instead, warmth spread from his cheek to his fingertips as she pulled away.
“Of course,” Charlie said with an awkward grin.
“I’ll never forget you, Charlie.” Abigail smiled. “Not ever.”
The Prime Minister stepped forward. “Billy, before you depart, a question.”
“Sure.”
“The Monster of all Monsters, the newly named Franklin Prometheus. With my own predicament I have always wondered, does he have a soul? A spirit of some sort, as we have seen here?”
Billy thought for a moment.
“It’s kinda cloudy with that one. Might be up to him,” Billy said with a laugh. “Who knows? You keep helping kids like you did Charlie, and maybe you’ll make your way back here as well.”
The Prime Minister straightened. “A generous thought, but I have accepted my fate.”
Billy looked at Abigail, and then squeezed her hand tight.
“All right, we’ll see you around,” Billy said.
“Thank you,” the Prime Minister returned, adding a slight bow. “Safe travels to you, Miss Rose.”
“Why, thank you, Prime Minister,” Abigail said with a curtsy.
Billy turned to his cousin. “I’ll see you too, Charlie. You hear me? Checking in, you know, on what we talked about . . .”
Charlie looked up at Billy and felt the tears gathering in his eyes again.
“Hey, hey, no more of that,” Billy said, letting go of Abigail to walk closer to his cousin.
“I think it’s because I’m happy,” Charlie explained.
Billy got a good laugh out of that and wiped the tears from Charlie’s face.
“Come on, I’m not going anywhere, so don’t worry so much.”
“You’re not? I thought after all this you’ll be moving on,” Charlie said.
“I might. But there are others like Abigail out there, so I may just hang around a little longer, see if I can help ’em out. Besides, it’ll give me something to do.” Billy tousled Charlie’s hair. “Now, you better remember, just because you can’t see me, it doesn’t mean I’m not there.”
Charlie smiled. Billy had been there, he thought. Even though he’d disappeared that day at the river, Charlie still had his memories—the good times they’d spent together, even the worn photograph he kept in his pocket. Billy might be gone, but he was still Billy. And all that they had together, both happy and sad, would stay with Charlie forever.
“I know,” Charlie said. “I’ll remember.”
“See ya, Charlie.” Billy laughed as he ran backward to Abigail. “Keep that chin up.” He took her hand in his and waved before they turned and walked away. Charlie watched them until a swirl of dust rose up, hiding them from view. When the dust settled, they were gone.
“See ya, Billy,” he whispered.
The Prime Minister placed a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. It was warmer than he remembered, and Charlie could not help but wonder if what Billy had said was true. Perhaps the Prime Minister’s fate, like his and Franklin’s, was still unwritten—what came next was up to them, up to all of them. And Charlie decided right then and there that he for one was going to make the most of it.
— chapter 41 —
Lost Angel No More
THE FIRST HINTS of morning were just streaking across the sky when Charlie and the Prime Minister returned to camp. They found Franklin sitting cross-legged with Abigail’s tiny body cradled in his arms. Ignacio stood over them with a blanket to cover the girl.
“She’s left us,” Ignacio said softly. “Sometime in the night.”
“Did they come for her?” Franklin looked up. His face was taut and his eyes looked even more sunken in than usual. “This was their plan, right?”
“Yes, she went with Billy,” the Prime Minister explained. “She’s home now. Abigail will be just fine.”
“You’re sure?” Franklin gasped.
“Yes, my old friend,” the Prime Minister said, doing his best to console the Monster. “Quite sure.”
The Prime Minister left at sunrise, and they wrapped Abigail’s body in the blanket, found a spot on a bluff above their camp, and buried her at the base of a tree that looked out over the open water. Franklin dug the grave by himself, and dug it deep. He laid heavy rocks on top and carved ABIGAIL ROSE—LOST ANGEL NO MORE into the largest of the stones. He set the marker against the tree’s twisted roots and, with Charlie, planted clustered sprigs of wildflowers in the small pockets of the rock.
“A fine spot,” Ignacio said. “A fine spot indeed.”
When they turned to drop back down to the beach, Franklin did not follow. Instead, the Monster knelt, weaving the knotted rope through his swollen and misshapen fingers, and bowed his head.
“Come on,” Ignacio said. “Just let him be . . .”
The Ranger saw to the ship’s rigging as the Monster stayed at Abigail’s grave for most of the morning. When Franklin came back to camp, it seemed his usual gruffness had returned with him. He found Charlie packing up their gear and sat on a tree trunk to light his pipe.
“Well, Charlie, what now?” Franklin asked. “Would you say we have completed this task?”
“Yes, Franklin. I think we have,” Charlie said. He was rolling up a heavy canvas tarp.
“Though this was never part of the original agreement,” Franklin began, “I suppose you would like me to see you home?”
“I’d hope so, Franklin. I’d sure hate to go it alone,” Charlie replied, looking up at him with a smile.
“Well then.” The Monster stood up, took the rolled tarp, and secured it with their other bundles. “The same rules apply. You will help with the camp. You’ll do as I say. The trip back will not be any easier.”
“I understand,” Charlie said.
“There will be the usual—goblins, trolls, and ogres, more marauders. Witches, werewolves, wendigos, could be warlocks, even. Who knows what we will encounter?”
“To be expected, I guess,” Charlie replied, handing Franklin one of the crates of supplies.
“And then there’s those cursed charts, the Prime Minister’s maps, much to be done on that. I will expect your help with those as well, you know.”
“I can help,” Charlie said.
“Who’s to say what the weather will do?” Franklin patted the boy on the back. “Especially in the mountain passes . . .”
They continued like this for the next few hours as they broke down the rest of the camp and loaded the boat. Charlie thought that Franklin must be feeling himself again with the return home before them. It was something he could plan and look forward to executing. Perhaps they both needed it to occupy their minds after all they had been through.
When their supplies were loaded, they joined Ignacio at the ship and set sail. Charlie sat in the stern facing the island and watched as it grew smaller and smaller on the horizon behind them. He would have guessed he might be sad as they sailed away from Billy and Abigail Rose, but he wasn’t. Instead, as he thought about the great adventure they had undertaken together, he felt satisfied. He turned to the bow, glancing at Franklin and Ignacio, and imagined the trip back, looking ahead to whatever they might encounter on their long journey home.
— chapter 42 —
The Long Journey Home
THEY SAILED THROUGH the night with Franklin carefully consulting and making notations on his maps and charts. The next day, they rejoined Rohmetall, Ringo, and the horses at the ramshackle port. Rohmetall greeted them with open arms, but Ringo was leery at first. Though he seemed to recognize Charlie, Franklin, and Ignacio, he barked at their approach, then whimpered and pulled away when Charlie reached out to pet him. After some playful coaxing, the dog eventually came around, though, and was soon back to his old self.
They slept that night at the Banshee’s Boot, and then at first light struck out again, with Franklin riding Goliath alongside Ignacio, while Charlie, Rohmetall, and Ringo followed in the cart. Like Dwight York and the princess Zalika, they avoided the desert and the salt flat by following the coastline until they reached the mouth of the river that would eventually take them back to the Agrarian Plains. They secured a broad, flat boat there and, after loading the cart and horses, were off again, the horses now resting as Franklin, Charlie, and Ignacio pushed the craft upriver with long poles that were thrown in at no extra charge. They took turns sleeping on the barge and on more than one occasion were forced to fend off a few curious predators who neede
d reminding that Charlie and his friends were not the easiest of prey.
They finally arrived at the Mumiya trading ports and were greeted with much fanfare and celebration. Their reunion with Zalika was bittersweet, though, as they learned her mother, the queen Khensa Tuya, had passed on from wounds sustained in the marauders’ raid. But there was already talk that Zalika would soon be crowned, and she promised that after her experiences in the desert, she would sit down with the Council and come up with a plan for a more permanent peace. They were treated to a banquet and given gifts of gold, silver, and jewels, and Franklin was presented with a magnificent horse. Like Faust, it was a large midnight-black horse of a sturdy breed that proved to be both strong and fast.
“A fine horse,” Franklin concluded, inspecting the stead. But behind the Monster’s gracious smile, Charlie could still see how sad he was at the loss of his beloved Faust.
Though Zalika implored them to stay, they moved on at dawn, riding through the great rows of corn and wheat toward the snowcapped mountains that loomed in the distance. With snow now in the passes, it took them longer to cross the mountains. Along the way, they encountered trolls, wayward ogres, and, on one occasion, a particularly ornery set of banshees, which is within itself a whole other story. Despite these setbacks, they plodded forward, surveying their route as they rode and seeing to the completion of the Prime Minister’s maps. Much to Franklin’s frustration, Rohmetall spent most of the journey pointing out all he could as they traveled. They met Dwight York near the spot on the river where they rescued Abigail Rose. He traveled with them as they dropped down from the mountains to the woods and the road that would eventually lead them back to Franklin’s Charnel House.
They camped in the woods that night, and in the morning, the Ranger Ignacio Santos and Dwight York said their good-byes. They promised that they would see Charlie again someday and then bounded off, the Ranger on horseback and Dwight York running as a wolf, into the high, heavy line of timber. As far as Charlie knew, the issue with Dwight York and the Ranger School was still unresolved, but that did not stop the two from singing a few choruses of the Rangers’ song before they left.
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