by Lucia Ashta
“It’s more likely that she would have found the books once she came out of the water. The brothers’ collection of magical books is vast and close to complete. Their ancestors collected them long before the brothers did.”
I gasped.
“Clara, what is it?”
“I just thought of something. You don’t suppose more merpeople came out of the water with Mirvela, do you?”
Marcelo frowned. “I’d considered that, and all I can say is, I very much hope not. Their opportunity to do so likely happened when Albacus called on all the castle creatures capable of defending us, during the battle, and let loose the pixies, the satyr, and, it looks like, the merpeople—or at least one merperson.”
“Oh, Marcelo, it’d be awful if all the merpeople were loose in the castle. Or worse, outside of it where we might not be able to track them.”
“Yes, Clara, it’d be terrible. I agree with you on that. But it’s possible that Mirvela, being the most daring, might have been the only one to come out of the merworld. Let’s hope that’s the case, at least.
Marcelo was well aware of my distress. I’d done much to forget about the years of life the merpeople stole from me. But in moments like these, when the threat of a reoccurrence was real, it was all I could think about.
He pulled me toward him and drew my head to his shoulder. “Clara, we have enough very real and very big problems right now without imagining how many more we might have. Let’s deal with one problem at a time, so they don’t become any more unmanageable than they already are.” He ran his hand down my hair. “It’ll be all right, Clara. Somehow, it will be.”
I nodded against his chest and closed my eyes.
“Mirvela might have been able to overpower us in her underwater home, but she’s on land now. And the earth element is one we know better than she does,” he reassured.
I liked where he was going with this. “Even in the merworld, you defeated them. You were able to break free of the magical hold they had on you and rescue me.”
“And it was Mirvela who chased us when I came to get you.”
“I don’t remember much of my rescue.”
“No, you wouldn’t. The merpeople had a firm grip on your mind. But it was Mirvela who pursued us the most rabidly; it was she who almost grabbed you away from me.”
“But you got me away from her.”
“I did. Just barely,” Marcelo said.
“But you did. How did you manage it?”
“With a blasting spell. The blast was enough to push her back a few feet each time. But she’s a strong and fast swimmer. She’d catch up to us again quickly.”
“You’ve beaten Mirvela twice before. You can do it again.” I almost had myself convinced of the fact.
“We’ll have to.” He ran his hands across his spring sweater. The outline of the crisscross of scars was easy enough to feel through the thin undershirt and cotton. Mirvela left her mark, that was for sure. She made certain he’d never forget the cost of escaping her clutches.
“If we find the spell book Mirvela consulted for her mind control spell, will it give us the way to counteract it?”
“It’s likely, but not a guarantee.”
“Where would Mordecai keep such a book, one that’s either dedicated to dark magic or so old that it precedes a dark magic classification?”
“Well, it depends. If Mordecai or Albacus hid it, I have some ideas. But if their ancestors did, I’ll just have to guess. Their great-greats were pretty eclectic, odd magicians. And then, the other thing to consider, is that the castle might have hidden away the spell book all on its own.”
“But if the castle hid it, then Mirvela wouldn’t have been able to find it either. The book has to be somewhere for her to find, which means it has to be somewhere we can find it. Right?” I hoped I was right.
“Unless she’s hidden it now.”
“Unless she’s hidden it.” Each time I thought we were getting somewhere, I discovered we weren’t.
Then the voice of salvation rang in an unlikely soprano. “Where am I?”
Chapter 22
Marcelo was up and pacing again. “This is excellent news. Truly excellent. Do you realize what wonderful news you’ve given us, Sir Lancelot?”
“I don’t think Sir Lancelot realizes much of anything yet,” I said. Poor Sir Lancelot. He looked like he’d just woken up from a dream and couldn’t figure out what was real and what wasn’t.
Marcelo wasn’t waiting for Sir Lancelot to catch up. “Clara, you realize what this means, don’t you?”
“I think so.” But the uncertainty sang out in my voice.
“This means that Mirvela’s spell wears off, either with time or with distance, or a combination of both. How long has it been since we left Mirvela and Mordecai in the dining room?”
“I’m not sure. An hour? Maybe an hour and a half?”
“So it’s been somewhere between an hour and an hour and a half since Sir Lancelot was around Mirvela. And her charm has now worn off. It’s either that her spell can’t work on Sir Lancelot when he’s this far away from her, or that she hasn’t tried to continue her charm on him since we left her. Either way, we know about how long the effect of it lasts.”
“If we can get Mordecai away from her, then we only have to wait it out!” I said.
“Yes! Precisely. Even though Mirvela is surely staying close to Mordecai as much as she can, we may get an opportunity to get him away from her. Once the effect wears off, he might already know of an easy counter charm. It’s night already. I don’t know if Mirvela sleeps, but he does.”
What light-heartedness had begun to infuse me seeped out of me like a leak. “Marcelo.”
“What?”
“If we get Mordecai away from Mirvela, there’s a chance that she’ll disappear into the castle. Once she doesn’t have him to keep track of, she could go anywhere.”
Marcelo grunted. Every one of his instincts urged him to snatch Mordecai away from Mirvela.
I continued, “And then we’d have no idea where she was or what she was up to, and that would be worse than the threat she poses now. At least now we know what she’s doing.”
He huffed. “You’re right.”
I could see the defeat hovering over Marcelo.
“Still, Sir Lancelot’s recovery gives us good news, even if we can’t use it to get Mordecai away from Mirvela—right away,” I said. “For one, we know it’s temporary. And it also seems that it allows the mind to return to the way it was.”
The owl was still googly eyed, making him look cute instead of distinguished as he usually did.
I stood to put a hand on Marcelo’s back. His hair was standing on end in places, and he was looking for something new to do with his hands. “Let’s go find the book that Mirvela used to cast the spell,” I said. “It’ll be all right. We can do this. Once Sir Lancelot recovers completely”—and I left out the thought that flickered vividly across my mind, if he does—“maybe he’ll have some more insight into how her spell works. The book has to be in the castle. I doubt Mirvela would’ve left in the short time we were gone. It’s a big world out there for a merwoman used to an underwater environment. Even for someone as bold as her, it’d be a lot to handle. Don’t you know some spells that could locate a hidden book?”
Marcelo took my hand and led me toward the door. “I most certainly do.”
I smiled. I had to. We were going to save Mordecai. It was written all over Marcelo’s youthful, vibrant face.
Marcelo opened the door. I said, “Wait. What about Sir Lancelot? Should he stay here? Or should we take him with us?”
Before Marcelo could decide, Sir Lancelot spoke in an uncertain owl voice. “I’d like to come with you if that suits you, Lady Clara, Count Bundry. I feel most unlike myself and would appreciate the company.”
There was no way Marcelo would be able to resist such a request. “Come on then, Sir Lancelot,” I said, patting my shoulder.
The owl flew with l
ess than his usual grace, but as soon as he took his place, we tore across hallways and staircases I didn’t recognize. Even if I did, I wouldn’t have been able to navigate the passageways alone. I was still wary of the castle’s tricks and how much they could cost me. I probably always would be. From the firm grip Marcelo kept on my hand, he felt the same.
We were going so fast that Sir Lancelot wobbled on my shoulder. It didn’t help matters that he was still aloof and not fully back to himself. Mirvela’s grip on him had faded, but his usual wit and sharp intellect hadn’t returned.
Marcelo stopped at a crossroads. We could go left, or we could go right. In a castle such as this, the decision would make a great difference, maybe even the difference between life and death, or at the very least an unpleasant detour we couldn’t afford right now.
Marcelo took a right. But when we reached another turn, he changed his mind. We retraced our steps. This time, at the crossroads, he went left, and we soon reached the room he had in mind.
We raced through the threshold to the open doorway.
I sensed the heat before I registered where the danger to us was coming from. Instinctively, I brought a hand to secure Sir Lancelot against me and ducked quickly. And just in time.
A stream of fire shot across the threshold, near where our heads had just been. I snapped my gaze to the source of the fire. “Sylvia!”
She didn’t do anything that indicated remorse, although she did stop hurling fire at us.
I stood. “You almost killed us!” I tried again to make her see how dangerous what she did was.
She hiccupped smoke and turned in a circle before settling back down in her alcove above the door to the brothers’ study. Lazily, she lowered eyelids to half mast over horizontal slits of pupils.
Obviously, I hadn’t manage to impact her with how serious her actions were. Marcelo didn’t appear particularly appalled either. If they thought that in a castle replete with concealed threats one more didn’t make a difference, they were wrong.
Marcelo dropped my hand and walked toward the bookshelves that lined the far wall. “Hello, Sylvia,” he said, as if nothing had happened. “Your master’s in danger.” He’d already begun rifling through titles while I stood there, waiting to recover from being nearly burned to a crisp by a mythological creature that wasn’t supposed to exist.
I turned to look up at Sylvia again, and immediately I was glad I had, my anger abandoning me in a whoosh. It wasn’t often that humans got to study firedrakes, and Sylvia was an incredible specimen. Her skin glowed opalescent while her red eyes steadily followed Marcelo’s every move.
Marcelo continued talking to the firedrake. “The woman that’s with him, Mirvela, isn’t a lady at all. She isn’t even a woman, I don’t think. She’s a merwoman, who somehow managed to leave the merworld and shift her tail into human legs.” Marcelo met Sylvia’s red eyes and added, “She’s controlling Mordecai’s mind.”
I wasn’t sure how much of this Sylvia would understand. After all, she was a firedrake. But one look at the smoldering fury in her eyes confirmed that she understood every single word Marcelo said. She flicked her tail methodically with righteous anger. Flick. Pause. Flick. Pause. Flick. Had I not known she was on our side, with proof of it from the recent battle fresh in my mind, I would have backed away.
If we didn’t find the book in this study, we’d still have accomplished something valuable. I couldn’t believe we hadn’t thought to come to Sylvia. Her loyalty to her master was strong, and she was an incredible creature.
Marcelo was running from one bookshelf to another. He trailed his finger across the worn spines to ensure he didn’t miss a single title. The minutes passed, but I didn’t offer to help. I didn’t know what to look for. I might miss the book even with its title staring back at me.
He climbed the moving ladder next to each bookshelf and slid it across. He didn’t miss a spot. He even pulled a row of smaller books out from the shelf to find a second row of even smaller books shelved behind them.
The book we were looking for wasn’t there, not anywhere between ceiling and floor. Marcelo slunk to the floor, legs spread out before him. His hand went to his forehead, and he leaned his head back against a shelf. Some of the books inched back on the shelf to accommodate his head.
I sat next to him. “Why did you think the book would be here? I thought you said the castle has many libraries.”
“Oh, it does. A great many. So many that we might never be able to go through them all in time.”
“But you could still use a locating spell, right?”
He nodded unenthusiastically. “Yes. It will take some time to construct, but yes. I was just so certain the book would be here. The brothers kept the most esoteric and advanced books of magic here because those books fascinated them. When you’ve lived as long as the brothers have—well, as long as Mordecai has—you can grow bored with basic magic. If it’s strange or forbidden, they would’ve kept it here.”
“Could you have missed it?”
“It’s possible. Though I don’t know where it could be. There are no obvious places to hide things. And if they hid it in a non-obvious place that they didn’t want anyone to discover, we might never find it, not even with a locator spell. The brothers are very good at what they do. They taught me everything I know, and it’s not even half of what they probably know of magic.”
I slumped back against the bookshelf too and blew a few loose strands of hair from my forehead.
I pushed my head further against the soft spines of old, worn books. My eyes traveled the room, not really looking for anything.
They landed on Sylvia. She was alert, waiting for her opportunity to save her master, just as Marcelo was.
“Sylvia, you don’t happen to know if Mirvela, the merwoman, came in here and looked at a book, do you?” I thought it funny that I was talking to a firedrake no differently than if she were a person.
Sylvia’s nostrils flared. Smoke trailed out of them in a straight line while she nodded her head up and down.
Marcelo and I both sat up, our backs erect. Even Sir Lancelot, who still didn’t know much of what was going on, mirrored our alertness.
“Did she leave the book in this room, Sylvia?” Marcelo asked.
Sylvia grunted a short burst of fire while she nodded. She stepped forward so that her talons dug into the plaster edge of the alcove, crumbling it where she gripped it, keeping her from tumbling forward.
“Do you know where she left it?” I asked, and not a breath passed between Marcelo and me while we waited for her answer.
Sylvia whinnied an unnatural clatter that didn’t sound quite like a horse or any other animal I knew. I guessed she sounded just like a firedrake, an angry, defensive, ready-to-pounce firedrake.
“Show us, Sylvia,” Marcelo said. “Show me, Sylvia. Show me now.”
Sylvia emitted another shrill cry designed to frighten even the hardiest enemy. She unfurled her ample wings in the compact alcove. She pushed them against its walls in a rain of fine, white plaster. A short burst of fire preceded her stunted flight. Through smoke, she emerged, glorious and wrathful.
She landed on the bookshelf farthest away from her, nestled on either sides of a window seat that opened on both sides of a small window.
I hadn’t even noticed the small window before. But now that I looked at it, the window and its seat seemed to stick out, as if it had been waiting for us to discover it all along.
Sylvia perched on one of the seat backs. Her talons carved a permanent groove in the wood.
Marcelo was already at her side. “Oh, good, Sylvia. Very good. You are a very smart firedrake. Mordecai will be very proud of you.”
She batted her eyelashes in such a way that left me staring at her as surprised to see the gesture of a young girl on a firedrake as I was by our imminent discovery.
Marcelo ran his hand down her head, and she retracted her wings. He guided his hand down her smooth back. She made cooing sounds.
> “Is it in this bookcase here, Sylvia?” Marcelo placed his hand on the seat Sylvia stood on. But it wasn’t. She shook her head no and then bucked it toward the seat across from her.
“Wonderful, Sylvia. You’re such a good girl.” Marcelo knelt in front of the other seat, down at its bottom, where a small bookcase had been carved out of it. The bookshelf only fit a dozen or so books. Marcelo pulled them, one at a time. He studied each one, flipped it open to make sure the cover matched the contents, and then placed it on the floor in a pile.
When eleven rejected books sat next to him, Marcelo looked toward Sylvia again. She nudged her head encouragingly. He looked more closely. “There’s nothing there, Sylvia.”
She snorted.
I moved in. Marcelo looked at me, and I shrugged. I didn’t see anything either. I crouched up to move Sir Lancelot from my shoulder so that I could duck under the wooden overhang and get a closer look when something flashed.
I gasped. “Sylvia’s right. There’s something there.” The light of the candle Marcelo held hit a slight edge that hadn’t been pushed in fully, revealing the compartment it had been designed to hide.
I pulled at the edge with my nail, but it was barely enough to catch on. I couldn’t get it open. There wasn’t enough to grasp.
“We need a knife or a pin or something.”
“No. We don’t. We need magic.”
I tore my eyes from the prize toward Marcelo. He was growing in his power. I could feel it as readily as I could feel the five elements alive and well within me.
He extended his hand to find the door to the hidden compartment. He closed his eyes, although this time he didn’t care whether I watched.
“Hidden secrets, come to rise. Hidden secrets, do not compromise. Reveal yourselves now because I ask. Reveal yourselves now, this is your task.” His voice was a low grumble that trembled with its own power.
He withdrew his hand, and I worried as nothing happened. But Marcelo didn’t seem worried at all. Instead, he shared a grateful grin with Sylvia. They were one step closer to saving Mordecai.
The panel pushed open, and Marcelo reached to pull it out.