The Transylvania Pocket Watch

by Tyler Jolley

  “We need to find the others!” Ali searched frantically. “Where is Tristan? And Chicaletta? And the Goose man?”

  “I am over here,” Chicaletta said. Her usually fluffy, gold hair was matted to her thin, gray body as she swam over to them. Her machete, slung on her back, flopped as she swam. “I have not located the enemy.”

  “Put me down,” Tristan yelled. Glenda flew above the water with Tristan in her clutches. “You’re always trying to ruin my fur, Glenda.”

  “You want down? I’ll totally put you down.”

  Glenda released him from her claws, and Tristan plummeted into the water on the opposite side of Ali.

  “Ah!” he yelled. “Not in the water! It stinks.”

  “Sorry.” Glenda giggled. She flew around the basement dungeon.

  “Wait, Tristan, swim this way.” Glenda swooped down to him.

  “Why?” He lay on his back, floating. “It’s not that bad actually. It’s like a pool. I feel like I’m on vacation.”

  Then he bumped into something.

  Or someone.

  Glenda dive-bombed toward Tristan and picked him up like a pelican plucking a fish out of the water.

  “Glenda,” Tristan screamed. “No! What did I ever do to deserve this?”

  Glenda gingerly deposited him on the stone floor next to the water. Then she pointed with her perfect, red-polished claw. “See?”

  “It’s the Goose man!” Tristan yelled. “Is he dead?”

  “I don’t know,” Ali said. She swam over to him. He was on his stomach. Unconscious. She turned him onto his back. Blood gushed from his forehead. “He must have hit his head on those cages on the way down. Help me get him out.”

  Figgy dog-paddled over to the man. He dragged a rope in his mouth with him. Ali placed the rope around his midsection and tied it tight. Figgy swam out of the pool, followed by Ali and Chicaletta. They stood behind Figgy. Within a minute of heaving, they slid the Goose man out of the water and onto the edge of the pool.

  “Now what?” Bait asked.

  “Let’s put him in there,” Ali suggested, pointing to the cells.

  Three of the cells had long-forgotten prisoners in them. Rotting old clothes, probably from the 1800s, hung limply on the skeletons.

  “Excellent idea,” Chicaletta said. “We will let Chuwen decide his fate when we are finished with the adventure.”

  “Are those dead vampires?” Tristan asked. “Glenda, I’m so sorry for your loss.” He burst into laughter.

  “I’m not a vampire,” she said. “But if I were, you’d be the first thing I’d bite!”

  “That’s enough, you two,” Bait said. “We have real, pressing matters.”

  With the rope still attached to the Goose man, they lugged him toward the cells. The man stirred and groaned. They pushed harder than ever. Glenda and Bait even pitched in as best they could, although Bait just pretended to pull on an imaginary rope. Finally, they shoved him into the dungeon. Ali slammed the cold bars shut. She scanned the area for a key. The warden’s desk! A small, rotting wooden desk sat on the opposite side of the pool against a wall.

  “Hold it shut!” Ali yelled. She jumped back into the water and swam as fast as she could.

  The oily water stuck to her clothes as she emerged from the water. She ran to the desk, slipping on the stone floor.

  Ali looked over her shoulder and saw the Goose man roll to his side; but he was still unconscious. Figgy stood with his backside firmly placed against the bars.

  “Come on,” Ali said to herself.

  She pulled on the drawer, but it stuck, swollen from moisture and age. She pulled the crossbow off her back and used the butt of the weapon as a hammer, slamming the top of the desk until it splintered and a hole revealed the contents of the drawer. Inside, a rusted ring with eight keys lay like a small treasure.

  “Yes! I found them!”

  Ali jumped back into the water and swam to the other side, rejoining her friends.

  “Hurry, love,” Bait said. “The man is coming to.”

  Ali threw the keys to Chicaletta. The monkey caught them and plunged the brass metal into the hole. Nothing.

  “If there’s one with a skeleton on it, try that,” Tristan said.

  “Good idea,” Chicaletta said.

  She rattled the key, turning it with an audible click. Ali released a pensive breath. The Goose man was sealed in.

  Figgy brayed. “Whew, just in time.”

  The Goose man shook his head, coughed up water, and touched the blood on his forehead. His eyes grew wide when he made eye contact with Ali. She shivered. He jumped up and gripped two bars, shaking them violently and growling like an animal.

  “Let me out of here, you fools!” the Goose man said.

  “Oh sure, we’ll do that right after we get a lobotomy,” Tristan said.

  The Goose man shook the bars again. Ali jumped back. His tanned skin was riddled with keloid scars and battle wounds. His dark eyes felt empty to her.

  He growled at them again.

  “Be nice.” Glenda shook a wing at him. “We just saved your life.”

  Stone crumbled around the barred doorframe. Ali backed up slowly.

  “Come on,” Ali said. “We need to go.”

  She walked toward a narrow hallway, then looked back. The Goose man’s headdress floated on the water. Staring at it for a moment, she felt compelled to take it, but then thought better of it. A burst of flames torched it while on the water.

  “We’ll get you!” the Goose man yelled.

  Ali and her friends turned and left the echoing howl of the dungeon.

  At the end of the hallway was a spiral staircase.

  “What do we have here, loves?” Bait asked. “Another trap?”

  “Perhaps we have the solution in front of us,” Chicaletta said. “Glenda?” Chicaletta nodded toward the steps.

  “How can I help?”

  “Look within yourself for a solution,” Chicaletta said.

  Glenda squinted her eyes. Her long lashes framed them, making them look bigger. “Oh! I can fly onto each step. If it triggers anything I can just glide away.”

  Chicaletta tapped her nose and said, “Good.”

  She flew and landed on the first step. Nothing. Then the second—nothing again. Ali held her breath as Glenda checked each stair. Tristan crawled up her leg, past the utility belt and onto her arm, and settled on her shoulder. She turned to face him.

  “Better view,” he said.

  “I think we’re good,” Glenda said, flying back toward them. “There was some writing on the walls, but I couldn’t make it out.”

  “You aren’t fluent in vampire?” Tristan asked.

  “Actually,” Glenda turned to Tristan, “it said, ‘Leave the rat in the dungeons!’”

  “Yes, yes, you two,” Bait said. “That will do. Come on, Figaro, we shall lead the pack.”

  They climbed up the winding staircase. Even after two adventures, the little burro’s agility and nimbleness still amazed Ali. He stopped once they reached a door. Ali scooted past him and opened it, revealing the same foyer they’d entered earlier. Ali checked the crystal ball, but it was hazy with white fog.

  “Let’s skip the stairs,” Figgy said. “How about that door?”

  “Brilliant idea, Figaro,” Bait said.

  Ali turned the doorknob on the door closest to the crystal ball. It led to a long hallway. Figgy was the last in, and the door slammed behind them.

  “There must be another staircase in here somewhere. We’ve got to get to the third tower,” Ali said, pointing up.

  The long hallway was filled with hundreds of lit candelabras that must have been lit for hours. Wax had dripped and left piles on the floor and streaked the pictures lining the walls.

  “Phew,” Tristan said. “T
oo many candles. I’m roasting. But I guess my fur will dry quickly.”

  “Where does this hallway lead?” Figgy asked.

  “I can’t open my journal,” Ali said. “It’s still wet. I don’t want to ruin it. When it got wet in Egypt, I kept it closed until it was dry. It is the only way to preserve it. But even so, I don’t think we’re in the right spot.” Ali’s heart sank.

  “Of course,” Bait said.

  “I didn’t want to say anything before,” Figgy said. “But that door locked behind me. There’s no going back that way—”

  A mysterious gust of wind blew out most of the candles. The chandeliers swayed back and forth, raining hot wax onto them.

  “Ouch!” Tristan yelled. “Ali, save me!” This time he crawled up her boot and stopped, sitting at the top near her calf.

  “This is awful,” Ali yelled. “Cover your eyes if you can.”

  Ali pulled her mosquito veil from her hat and placed it over Figgy’s eyes. Tristan pulled Ali’s pant leg over his face.

  Another unexpected gust burst through the hallway. Wooden candle holders exploded, dropping sharp, waxy splinters onto them.

  Ali dove onto her stomach to take cover. It seemed like the best option.

  She belly-crawled as fast as she could. Her knees slogged through puddles of hot wax and chunks of wood.

  “This way,” Chicaletta said, flipping over a flaming wax puddle in the middle of the floor.

  Ali rose to her feet and ran, ducking and dodging. Hot wax dripped onto her arm. She jerked back and rubbed it off, pulling some arm hair out in the process.

  Ali followed a blur of gold as Chicaletta beckoned them toward an opened door on the opposite end of the candle hallway.

  Figgy hurdled over shattered candelabras and joined them.

  “Is everyone okay?” Ali asked.

  “Totally,” Glenda said. “That was like getting a paraffin treatment. I loved it.”

  “Well, I hated it,” Tristan said as he emerged from Ali’s boot. “Wax treatments are not recommended for high-end fur.”

  “Thank you, human,” Figgy said. “You saved my eyes.”

  “That’s what friends do.” Ali took the crusty veil from his head and tied it back onto her hat. She checked his face for wax and peeled a flaky white piece off his nose. Then she nuzzled it. “Does it hurt?”

  “Not anymore,” he said.

  “Chicaletta?” Ali asked. The small monkey was splattered in white chunks of wax.

  “I am alive, and so are you all. That is all that matters. You were all courageous back there. Now we must be strong once more and push deeper into the castle.”

  “Are you burned?” Ali asked.

  “Any injury I have is small compared to what the world will face if we do not save the Nobil Fel. I am uninjured. Come.”

  They crept forward, knowing full well they would have to overcome another obstacle together.

  Chicaletta stopped and said, “This way.”

  “What is it?” Tristan asked, pointing past Chicaletta. “More wax? This must be the ear of the castle.”

  Ali laughed. “I guess it’s better than the nose of the castle.”

  Glenda giggled softly.

  “Worse,” Chicaletta said. “Another staircase.”

  Alison Liv Isner puffed out her chest and chose to be as brave as her mom.

  Chapter 8

  Ali stared at the wide spiral staircase. It was big enough for them to all walk at once, but she didn’t dare take a step. The carpet runner was worn to colored threads. A dull wooden banister had lost its varnish.

  “What’ll we do?” Ali coughed from the smoke of the extinguished candles.

  “I can fly up them and touch down on each one again,” Glenda said.

  Ali looked into the bat’s weary eyes framed with gorgeous, long eyelashes.

  “I don’t know,” Ali said.

  “Human is right,” Figgy said. “We were lucky last time, but what if the threat comes from above? I should have thought of that before. We can’t risk it.”

  Chicaletta walked toward the staircase, heavy splinter in hand. She tossed it onto the tenth stair—it tumbled down, bouncing off each step. “One must understand, an obstacle in one area can present itself as a solution elsewhere. Gather the broken bits of wood, and we will throw them up the stairs ahead of us. Make sure the pieces are heavy enough.”

  “Brilliant,” Bait said.

  “Fine,” Tristan said. “But this is more work than I signed up for. Look at all these stairs! You can’t even see the top. Where does it end?”

  “Want to ride in my utility belt?” Ali whispered to Tristan.

  “Thank you.” The fat rat put a pink hand up to his forehead. “I’m delirious. Probably from lack of food.”

  Ali gathered a handful of large broken bits and filled her pockets as instructed. They started up the wide stairs, all in a row, a line of solidarity—except for Tristan, who was tucked away and gently snoring in Ali’s belt.

  After they climbed the first ten steps, Chicaletta threw another piece of wood and watched it tumble down. Ali held her breath. Nothing happened.

  Safe for now.

  “I never thought I’d be afraid of stairs,” Glenda said. Her high-pitched voice cracked. “And I don’t even use stairs.”

  “I’m traumatized.” Tristan perked up. He raised his arms dramatically.

  “Oh, Tristan,” Bait said. “You’ve seen much worse than this, chap.”

  “You have?” Ali asked. This time she threw the hunk of broken candelabra, ensuring their next steps weren’t booby-trapped. “Was it with my mom?”

  “That is enough.” Chicaletta’s normally calm voice boomed.

  “Fine. I was traumatized,” Tristan said. “But the girl, she never lets me down. Thank you, Ali.”

  “Sure,” Ali said. She petted the top of his head with her index finger, unsure how to feel. “I’m sorry I pried, Chicaletta.”

  “You do not need to apologize,” Chicaletta said. She stopped and turned. After reaching up, she grasped Ali’s narrow shoulders. “We may speak of past expeditions once this one is completed. It serves no purpose to revisit past distresses if it is meant to cause fear.”

  “I understand,” Ali said.

  “We need and value you as much as we did your mother,” Chicaletta said. She pushed both Ali’s braids off her shoulders. “We must continue. The Geese could be close.”

  “Ugh,” Glenda said. “I totally blocked that out. Yes, let’s hurry!”

  Ali and Chicaletta took turns throwing wood to ensure the path was safe. Ali’s heart pounded, and she found herself panting. They had climbed at least two stories of steps, and the end was nearly in sight.

  “Is this the third tower, human?” Figgy asked. “I’m getting tired.”

  “I’m not sure,” Ali said. “I’ll check the journal if it’s dry once we get to the top.”

  Ali’s skin broke out in gooseflesh. An odd feeling came over her. She picked up her speed, and her friends followed suit. They feel it too, she thought.

  As she got closer to the top, Ali’s hands started to shake.

  Deep, long sounds vibrated the entire staircase—tones so deep they pulsed in Ali’s belly.

  “Wait.” Chicaletta held out her arm. “Do you hear that?”

  Ali paused and closed her eyes. “Is it the drums?”

  “It’s an organ!” Glenda said. “Oh, I just love it. I could totally listen to one all day!”

  “Who’s playing it?” Figgy asked.

  “And for whom are they playing?” Bait echoed.

  Ali’s blood turned to ice. Be brave, she told herself. “I’ll lead.”

  “Are you sure, my child?” Chicaletta asked.

  “I am.” Ali thought back to Chicaletta’s advic
e. “Sometimes one must sacrifice oneself for the greater good.”

  Chicaletta nodded.

  Alison Liv Isner climbed up the last few steps onto a large mezzanine, and she couldn’t believe her eyes.

  Chapter 9

  “It’s playing by itself,” Ali said. “I don’t understand.”

  “I wonder if Herning’s witch girlfriend did that too?” Figgy asked.

  “Maybe,” Ali said, furrowing her eyebrows.

  She ran deeper onto the large landing. One side was a grand marble balcony overlooking a room that had been obscured during their climb. On the opposite wall was a large window. Ali ran over to it, peering outside.

  “Look!” Ali said.

  “Is that it, human?” Figgy asked. “The third tower?”

  “Let me check.” Ali flipped open the journal. It was still a bit damp, so she took her time turning the pages. “It says there’s a long, curved hallway that leads into the tower.” She craned her head and saw that the castle curved sharply to the right. “I can’t see past the curve from the outside, but I think this is it.”

  “Righto,” Bait said. “That’s great news. Would anyone mind if we respite for a moment? I think Figs could use a spot of water. And we can keep watch over the balcony and stairs.”

  “Excellent idea,” Chicaletta said. “Taking care of oneself is paramount in keeping a sharp mind.”

  “Finally.” Tristan rubbed his belly. A hunk of dried wax flaked onto the ground. “I never thought we’d eat. And it better not be beets. I don’t want to attract any of Glenda’s relatives.”

  “As if,” Glenda said, rolling her eyes. “Ali, can you please get my polish while you get Figgy’s water dish? I’d like to touch up my claws.”

  Ali undid a leather clasp on Figgy’s canvas pack. She placed a tiny bottle of red nail polish on the ground. Then she placed Figgy’s water dish next to him and filled it with water from a dented stainless steel canteen. She sprinkled a little fish food into the small holes on top of Bait’s jar. Chicaletta rummaged on the other side of the pack, then met Ali.

  “Pass these out,” Chicaletta said. “You keep watch over the balcony, and I’ll watch at the stairs.”