The Transylvania Pocket Watch

by Tyler Jolley

  Thud.

  Ali sat straight up, locking eyes with Chicaletta, who now stood next to her.

  Thud.

  Glenda flew down from the doorjamb and gripped Chicaletta’s shoulder with her claws. “Is that—” The bat’s voice shook.

  “Someone knocking?” Ali finished Glenda’s sentence.

  “It could be Herning,” Figgy offered.

  “Or the Geese,” Bait said.

  Thud.

  Thud.

  Thud.

  “Herning?” Ali asked.

  Silence.

  This time the door handles jiggled with a fevered pitch. The doors shook violently.

  “The Geese,” Glenda squeaked. “But how? The painting—I thought we were safe.”

  “One must not get lost in the minutiae but focus on the present. We must go, but do not run past a standing shelf until you see there is not a wave approaching. Do you understand?”

  Ali swallowed hard and nodded. Figgy galloped up onto the sea of wood, books, and carpet. He nimbly jumped from one wave crest to the next, like a mountain goat prancing up a steep mountainside. He leapt off the final one and onto a wave. He rode it like a skilled surfer past the remaining upright bookshelves. Water sloshed out of the small holes in Bait’s jar, but he seemed no worse for the wear.

  Chicaletta flipped onto the debris, tiptoeing from piece to piece even as the waves jostled the broken wood around. She waited and bid Ali to come forward.

  “Ready?” Glenda asked.

  Ali nodded as the bat took flight. Ali pulled herself up and walked with her arms straight out for balance. A wave crept up underneath, moving the pile. Her feet slipped out from under her, and she landed on her side. Pain shot up her elbow.

  As she pulled herself up to her hands and knees, she grimaced but stood, trying to regain her footing. By now six more bookshelves had fallen. Ali was too far behind, holding her friends up. She tried to run but only succeeded in slipping and falling again. The waves were too big. Tears filled her eyes.

  Crash.

  The final bookshelf fell. An eerie silence encompassed the room. The back door shook with a violent fervor. Chicaletta and Glenda had already crossed the entire room and joined Figgy, Bait, and Tristan at the exit of the undulating room.

  Ali closed her eyes and whispered, “Mom.” Then she pulled out her grappling hook and loaded her crossbow. Releasing it toward the center beam, Ali bit her lip to suppress a smile. I did it. All that was left was for her to swing to the other side. She took a few steps back while holding the rope. A violent wave of wreckage knocked her down again.

  “Ugh!” Ali yelled.

  She righted herself, ran and propelled herself forward, and caught the rope. Sailing through the air, Ali clung tight, though rope dug into the fresh hotspots on her hands. Closer than ever, she couldn’t hide her smile any longer. Until disaster struck.

  A wave larger than she’d previously seen surged up under destroyed shelves, smashing broken pieces of wood and heavy books into her. Alison Liv Isner fell from her rope and landed unconscious on the broken wood below her.

  Chapter 12

  When Ali started to stir, she expected to see the Persian rug in the backroom of her dad’s store. She’d had some close calls on past adventures but had never been hurt. Her cloudy vision started to clear. The sensation of being pulled over a jagged surface helped jar her awake.

  “Hurry!” She heard Glenda’s high-pitched voice. “Oh, Miss Isner, you have to be all right. Please wake up!”

  Ali gently turned her head and tried to raise an arm to her face. That’s when she realized she was, in fact, being dragged. Chicaletta pulled on one arm; Tristan and Glenda had grabbed the sleeve of her other arm. Figgy had ahold of her collar with his teeth and yanked her the hardest.

  “Ali, love, are you waking?” Bait asked, just inches from her head.

  She rolled hard, and her friends lost their grip on her as a wave rolled under them. She sat up, then tried to stand but wobbled back and forth. The vein in her temple felt like it was trying to pulse out of her head.

  “Can you walk?” Chicaletta held both sides of her shoulders. “Alison, my child, can you hear me?”

  Ali slowly nodded. “Yes and yes.”

  “We will evaluate your injuries once we are safe. We must go.” Chicaletta held Ali’s hand.

  The little monkey gave her extra balance, and she was thankful for that. Her panic and adrenaline rush coaxed her toward the exit. She stumbled over a pile of torn books toward the door on the opposite side of the waves.

  Her friends quickly joined her. Chicaletta helped her sit. Glenda lifted Ali’s sleeves and pant legs, inspecting for injuries. Figgy nuzzled her neck with his soft nose while Bait whispered encouraging words to her. But it was Tristan’s reaction that held her attention most. He wrung his tiny pink hands and paced nervously on his hind legs.

  Alison reached for him, and he quickly jumped up onto her arm, then scurried up to her neck.

  “My turn.” He pushed Figgy out of the way. “I said, it’s my turn.” He pushed his head into her jawline and held her cheek with his hands. “Ali, are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay. We can’t lose you.”

  “Lose me?” Ali shook her head in shock. “I just fell.”

  Chicaletta shot a stern glace at Tristan.

  “Wait, is this how you lost my mom?” Ali’s spine stiffened.

  “No,” Chicaletta snapped. “Understand that I will tell you when it is time.”

  “Human, I was so afraid when you wouldn’t wake up,” Figgy said.

  “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” Bait asked.

  “I think so,” Ali said. “I have a headache, but that’s all.”

  “Your left leg is pretty bruised,” Glenda said. She brushed over the bruise with her leather wing.

  “It’ll heal,” Ali said. “And, it’s winter at home, so I’ll just wear long dresses. Wait, will the bruise be there once I get home?”

  “Yes,” Chicaletta said. “While time works differently here, it is real life. Now, I must ask you something before we continue. Do you want to quit?”

  “Quit? No! Of course not. How would I even do that?”

  “We can finish the mission without you, leave you in a safe place, then come for you after we return the artifact to Chuwen. Then we will bring him to you, and he can send you home—for good.”

  “No.” Ali stood strong and firm. “No chance. I’m not a quitter. I’ve been sent to do the greater good—or something. Right, Chicaletta?”

  She responded with a nod and a thin smile.

  “I have to finish my mom’s expedition.”

  Chicaletta hugged Ali, then held her shoulders and stared into Ali’s eyes. “Eloise would be proud.”

  The door from the curved hallway shook harder than ever before. Chicaletta sprang into action, opened the door to the new room, and waved her friends in. Ali walked in after Chicaletta, then slammed it shut after they were all past the threshold.

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

  “Yes,” she said, taking in the grand hall.

  The black-and-white-checkered floor was polished to a high sheen. It was the only place in the castle that seemed to have been well taken care of. Thick, red-velvet drapes covered the floor-to-ceiling windows, although a bit of moonlight still peeked through. Knights on marble pedestals all wore black capes over their chainmail and plate armor. They lined three quarters of the room, as if they were guarding the spiral staircase in the back of the circular chamber.

  “But the book didn’t mention anything about these, um, knights?” Ali tilted her head to one side.

  “They have fangs!” Tristan said. He climbed onto the knight closest to them and up to its face. “Glenda, let me see your fangs.”

  “These?
” Glenda parted her red upper lip, exposing her teeth. She swooped the fat rat.

  “Ah!” Tristan said.

  “Serves you right, nutter.” Bait chuckled.

  “These are neat, right, human?” Figgy asked.

  Ali slowly approached them, mouth agape. One had a scythe at his feet, handle resting on its hip. Another had a sword over its shoulder. The most menacing one was holding an ax over its head.

  “Tristan, come down at once,” Bait said.

  “Fine, fine,” Tristan said. “But you don’t have to move the entire thing. I said I’m coming.”

  Tristan jumped down just as the knight swung its scythe inches from the rat. By missing the rat, the knight succeeded in slicing off its opposing arm. It clanked against the floor, shattering tile. Tristan turned in horror as the knight raised its scythe with its remaining hand. Glenda swooped down and plucked Tristan from the ground. After clutching him in her claws, she deposited him on Ali’s shoulder.

  “Hold me, Ali,” he cried. “Rock me like a baby. I have been traumatized. Twice today!”

  “You’re welcome,” Glenda sang.

  “She ripped out my fur,” Tristan said. “She’s always trying to ruin my hair. I think she’s jealous of my fur coat!”

  Ali put him in the crook of her left elbow and gently cradled him. She studied the knights as they came to life. They swung their swords, axes, scythes, spiked clubs, tridents, and machetes wildly. Metal on metal groaned as they moved their rusty arms. But their feet were stuck to the pedestal they resided on. Ali guessed they’d been dormant for years.

  “No one move,” Chicaletta said. “Alison, does the journal tell you anything about this?”

  Ali pulled the book from her back pocket with her free hand. She struggled to open it with Tristan shivering in her elbow, but she managed just the same.

  “No,” Ali said. “They must have added the knights after my mom did her research.”

  “Then we must proceed with caution,” Chicaletta said. She rummaged in Figgy’s pack and produced an orange. “One must always be prepared.”

  Chicaletta rolled the piece of fruit down the center of the room.

  Bang!

  Clank!

  Screech!

  Gears cranked to life. Chicaletta had awoken the rest of the magical, mechanized beasts. The knights on their pedestals slid out into the center of the room and slowly retreated back to the walls. A hydraulic cylinder plunged the knights forward and back.

  “Fascinating,” Bait said. “Where have I seen this game before?”

  “Foosball,” Ali said absently. “This is a foosball game.”

  “A deadly version,” Glenda squeaked.

  Tristan perked up for a moment. “Are we the ball?” He placed his hand over his face, palm up.

  “You stay with me,” Ali said, gently placing him in her utility belt. “Have a little rest.”

  Some knights shot back and forth quickly, swinging their weapons nonstop. Others were slower, more strategic. Ali tried watching for a pattern. Metal crashing against the floor sounded like loose bolts dumped into a running engine. Broken bits of marble became projectiles as the vampire knights smashed the floor.

  “We have to fight them,” Figgy said.

  “Figgy?” Ali’s eyes were wide.

  “The burro is correct,” Chicaletta said. “We must disarm them. Look at their armor—it’s held together in segments. If we break the wrists, they are no longer a threat.”

  Ali tried to search her brain for a solution. Her brow furrowed, and her face twisted in panic.

  Chicaletta held Ali’s chin with a calloused palm. “We all have unique yet equally important strengths. Look within yourself for a solution. Find your confidence.”

  Tristan popped himself free of the utility belt like a champagne cork. “Sounds good to me.”

  The little rat, renewed with sureness, marched on his two hind legs toward the fray. He scurried up the one-handed vampire knight and gnawed at the leather strap attaching the wrist to the arm.

  “This might take a while,” Tristan yelled in between bites. He spit out a mouthful of leather chunks.

  Chicaletta nodded.

  “Figgy, wait,” Glenda said. “I need to get something from the pack.”

  She rummaged around and pulled out rope with her claws. Fluttering toward the door, she tied the rope onto one handle of the wooden French doors, then weaved it onto the other one. The rope was heavy, and it was slow going, but she’d taken on perhaps the most important job: securing the door from the Geese.

  “Excellent,” Chicaletta said.

  Figgy ran toward the closest knight, waiting for it to slowly retreat toward the wall. He ran and kicked one arm with his back legs. The hand fell to the ground, still clutching the ax. Whipping around with momentum, he kicked the remaining hand with his front feet, then ran back to safety.

  “It’s empty.” Ali shivered. “These are just armor; there’s nothing inside.”

  “Figgy, are you a brave mini burro!” Chicaletta beamed. She pulled the machete off the sling on her back. “Do not rush. Catch your breath. You must be at your best, for this obstacle is the most dangerous yet.”

  “Yes, Figaro, old chap,” Bait said, “you did well. Chicaletta is wise; you must rest until you can run at full speed again.”

  Figgy brayed. Mucus had built in the corners on his mouth. The long day was wearing on everyone, but more on Figgy. Although he’d never complain.

  Chicaletta ran to the next knight and readied her machete. She stopped a few feet to the side of it. The vampire knight whipped its ball and chain wildly at Chicaletta. The three-foot-tall monkey swung and swiped at its knees. Rivets sheared off, and it flailed its arms as it fell forward. The armor crashed into the floor, scattering everywhere.

  Ali readied an arrow in her crossbow and set her sight for the one with a trident. Its cape fluttered as it was pulled back toward the wall. Jutting out to the center, it blindly stabbed the three-pronged spear up, down, and side to side. She focused on the strap at the shoulder joint, then released the arrow; it sailed through the air. It stuck in the crook, but it didn’t dislodge. The metal creaked and bent.

  “I’m on it,” Tristan said. “Let me at ’em.”

  The strap Tristan had been chewing on dropped to the floor. The knight still flailed its stump of an arm as if it still wielded a weapon.

  Tristan scurried toward Ali’s target, then up its backside. The knight surged forward and back, but the arm wouldn’t budge. Tristan climbed over its shoulder, gnawing at the strap with his two front teeth.

  Ali pulled another arrow from her quiver, vowing to aim better this time. Her sights were set on the last complete knight, to her left. She caught a blur of both gold and gray out of the corner of her eyes. Figgy and Chicaletta both went toward the last two on the right. She aimed her arrow at a wrist, not even paying attention to the weapon it held.

  Success!

  She readied her arrow again and shot another in swift succession.

  The last arrow landed directly in the leather, severing the hand. Ali looked around the room and realized the stillness. Five sets of eyes stared at her.

  “We did it,” Ali said.

  “Righto.” Bait swam a victory lap in his jar.

  “It’s too quiet in here,” Glenda said. “Gives me the heebie-jeebies. What’s the saying, Chicaletta?”

  “The silence is deafening,” Chicaletta responded. “Alison, I think you should lead the way.”

  Alison Liv Isner led her friends up a spiral staircase and into the resting place of Gaspare the vampire.

  Chapter 13

  The tightly wound staircase narrowed toward the top. Moss covered the walls and stones and made each step slippery and treacherous. A flaming wall sconce was the only source of light. Ali sucked in a bre
ath. The air felt heavy, humid, and stale.

  “Are these steps too small, Figgy?” Ali asked.

  “No, human,” he said. “Just a little crumbly. But they seem stable enough. I only have trouble when the steps are too far apart and I have to jump. Burros don’t mind stairs.”

  “Did someone say burrito?” Tristan rubbed his belly. “I could go for a burrito, smothered in cheese of course.”

  “Tristan, you may have whatever you would like after this mission is complete,” Chicaletta said.

  Ali rounded the final turn of the spiral staircase. Light flooded out of a room at the top.

  “No door,” Ali whispered to herself.

  At the top she waited as her friends crowded the constricted space.

  “What are you waiting on, love?” Bait asked.

  “I wanted to walk in together,” Ali said.

  “That’s a totally great idea,” Glenda said. She perched herself on Chicaletta’s shoulder, then wiped her brow with her palm. Red-polished claws glimmered in the light from the room next to them. “Whew! I’m beat.”

  “Glenda thinks she’s a parrot,” Tristan said. “You’re not fooling anyone, vampire. Ha!”

  “You have done well, Glenda. You’ve been an invaluable part of our team and persevered through every challenge,” Chicaletta said. “You may rest on my shoulder for now. Alison, please, lead the way.”

  Ali nodded and turned right at the last step and into the room. It was a simple, round room made of stone and small slits for windows.

  “This is Gaspare’s resting place,” Ali said, placing her hand over her heart.

  No elegant window coverings, not even an ornate candelabra.

  “This looks more like a tomb,” Glenda said.

  “I liked Pharaoh Zicobus’s tomb better,” Tristan said. “But I don’t miss the zombies.”