by Неизвестный
“Okay, but you have to close your eyes,” Carly said.
Edwin said, “Some sort of magic?”
Carly and Delilah both nodded. Something about the way Carly stood there, with her hands behind her back, made Opal suspicious, but she closed her eyes anyway.
Something twisted and snaked around Opal's wrists, and she opened her mouth to complain, but found her mouth completely sealed. This made her want to scream, but all that happened was her cheeks bulged out painfully as the scream resonated through her sinus cavities.
Edwin made a similar, but more manly noise.
Something green, a vine similar to the one Opal had tangled with in the conservatory, entwined around both of their wrists and mouths. She tried to take a step forward and found she was hobbled, with vines around her ankles that let her take only the tiniest of steps. She still took those steps, toward Carly, who looked as terrified as Opal felt.
“Mm mm mm?” Opal said.
“I'm so sorry,” Carly said.
“Standard practice,” Delilah said.
The vines were still moving, growing, and the vines around Opal's wrists sprouted new tendrils and connected with the ones around her head and mouth, so her hands were now held high in front of her, just below her neck. When she tried to move her hands down, her head followed. Edwin's vines looked similarly tight, and he did not look happy. In fact, he looked like a pit bull with a piece of bacon balancing on top of his nose.
“Don't worry,” Carly said, wringing her hands. Visible sweat beaded on her forehead. “We'll have you out of those in no time, I promise. Just come with us, be quiet, and we'll get you on your way.”
Edwin said, “Mm mm?”
Carly seemed to understand him well enough, and said, “Yes, with Peter. Either we'll get him woken up or we'll load him in a cart for you.”
Edwin's eyes flashed and his arms shook as he fought in vain at the vines wrapped around his wrists.
Carly said, “Oh, Edwin, it hurts me so much to see you like this, but don't struggle, because resisting only makes them cut in deeper.”
“Careful,” Delilah said, and she reached out to stroke Edwin's cheek, the way a person might soothe an upset animal.
He gave them both a deeply-wrinkled frown and made a head gesture toward the door, as if urging them to get it over with.
* * *
Carly led the way and Opal and Edwin followed, bound and hobbled as they were and consequently slow, while Delilah trailed along behind, on guard for what, Opal couldn't imagine.
As they shuffled down the dim hallway, Opal thought of head-butting the witches so they could make their slow motion escape, not that she had any idea where the exit might be.
From behind them, Delilah kept apologizing and rambling, saying, “I'm sorry, Edwin. I didn't know. Please understand that my heart is pure.”
Opal wondered grumpily why she didn't deserve an apology. She'd thought the girls were her friends, after their bike ride and fun trip to the chocolatier. They'd even showed her just enough magic to save her life, and she was grateful for that, but the vines twisted around her hands ate into her goodwill for the witches.
After a quick sulk and stew, she forced herself to think harder of escape. The grabby-hands vines in the conservatory had released her when she'd sung to them, so Opal tried quietly humming to see if the sound had any effect. She hummed louder and louder, the general tune of Itsy Bitsy Spider. Edwin turned and gave her a quizzical look, his forehead wrinkled in a friendly manner. Despite her terrific humming, the vines didn't respond.
At least the leaves had a pleasant taste against her lips, like spearmint gum.
Up ahead, a foreboding woman in dark robes came from a doorway, cursing.
Opal threw her shoulders back defiantly, because she hadn't done anything wrong.
The woman, who had pale, freckled skin and red hair, spoke to Delilah, saying, “We're too late! The protestors are at the door!”
Delilah shrunk against the wall. “Mom, what are we going to do?”
The woman grabbed Delilah's arm and shook her. “You three shouldn't have done what you did.”
Carly said, “We didn't do anything!”
The woman ignored Opal and Edwin and continued to berate her daughter and Carly.
Opal caught Edwin's gaze and jerked her head that they should make a run for it. He shook his head, turned, and pressed his backside against her. She didn't move, unsure what he meant, and he pushed into her again.
A scream from elsewhere rang through the hall, startling everyone, and the hallway filled with dark, billowing smoke.
The witches coughed and pulled their robes up to cover their faces, but Opal and Edwin both had their hands tied and mouths sealed, and could only breathe through their noses.
The smoked seared Opal's nostrils, unlike any smoke she'd encountered before. It seemed designed to cause pain, and she fell to her knees in agony.
The three witches argued amongst themselves and didn't seem to notice that Edwin had also dropped to the ground. He flailed, yet seemed to be pushing his body into Opal's on purpose.
She could barely keep her stinging eyes open, but when he pushed his hip once more against her hands, she realized what he was trying to communicate.
She squirmed down and found something with her fingertips—the top of a pocketknife. She angrily cursed Edwin in her head for not trying to cut them out sooner, but of course, with the way his hands were bound, he couldn't have reached the knife at his hip.
Holding her breath to block the acid-like burning sensation of the smoke inside her nostrils and lungs, Opal pulled the knife out and popped it open. To her shock, the blade sliced through the vines on her wrists as easily as a weed whacker lopping the heads off dandelions.
She freed Edwin's hands next, then he took back the knife and removed the gag on her mouth, the shackles around her feet, and then his. They both pulled their shirts up over their mouths.
The thick smoke obscured the three arguing witches, mere feet away. With the thin cloth of her shirt over her mouth, Opal could breathe a little, but their eyes were tearing, and they needed to get out of there, fast.
They crouched together and Edwin said, “What direction?”
Before the smoke had appeared, Opal had noticed something interesting about the stone floor in the hallway. Years of use had worn down some areas more than others, mostly in troughs along the hall, but there were a few points that diverged and disappeared into the wall. Because of this clue, she was able to deduce they were right near a hidden door.
She reached up and pressed her hand against the one different-looking stone in the wall, the one that felt like soft clay, and a hidden door opened.
Edwin led the way and they both crept through, still crouching, into fresh air. Edwin pushed shut the door behind them.
Gasping, Opal said, “Do you think we should call them in here? Out of the smoke?”
Edwin said, “So they can tie us up again and leave us to suffocate? Hmm, let me think about it, well, on one hand—NO!”
“I guess you're right.” She shook her head. “Sorry. I thought they were my friends.”
“Don't feel bad. This thing is bigger than both of us.” He glanced around. “See any fire exits?”
This room was smaller than the one they'd been in before, and seemed to be a bedroom or dorm room. By the view from the windows, they were on the other side of the castle, the side facing inland. They poked their heads out the non-barred window and looked down. The grounds, which Opal hadn't seen before, were beautifully landscaped, with all manner of plants and trees, plus a maze made from hedges. The pretty view was occupied by about three dozen people, along with some horse-drawn carts and what seemed to be a medieval weapon of mass destruction.
They both pulled their heads back in to avoid being noticed.
Opal said, “Am I seeing things, or is that a catapult down there?”
“I always knew this day would come,” he said. “Of cou
rse I thought I'd be at the office, or safe at home, and not in the actual castle when it happened.”
“What exactly is happening?”
“Surely you've heard of angry mobs? You do have those on the mainland, right?”
“Some, though people don't get all pitchfork-y these days. More like signs and living in tents.”
“That would be preferable,” Edwin said. “The witch haters are more, as you say, pitchfork-y. By the looks of that catapult, they've finally snapped. Word of this daemon being let loose on the island must have been the spark in the grain silo. Now come the flames.”
“But the castle is stone. They can't burn it down.”
“I meant flames in the metaphorical sense.”
The angry crowd outside the castle was yelling, but the words didn't carry up clearly over the height. Opal edged over to the window and took a quick peek below, at people hoisting rocks into the catapult. “So, they'll rescue us?”
He laughed, then stopped abruptly. “These aren't the kind of people you want rescuing you.” He tapped his forehead. “I gotta use my brain. Besides the magic door, what other magic can you do?”
“If I had some purple blades of grass, I could blow bubbles. Of course I don't have any purple grass on me.”
He scratched his nose. “What else?”
“Nothing. I'm not a witch.”
Edwin looked around at their surroundings and said, “I shouldn't be here.”
This room was pink, with two sets of equally pink, frilly bunk beds, and stuffed animals everywhere. Framed pictures of unicorns, rainbows, and kittens graced the walls.
“I don't think we'll find any weaponry in here,” Opal said. “We should probably sit tight and wait the battle out. This place is basically a fortress, right? I mean, aren't all castles? Isn't that the point?”
He nodded and perched on the edge of a sparkling, pink reading chair. “The castle has been here longer than the city. It's like a mountain.”
The shouting outside grew to a fevered pitch, then shut off.
A deafening rumble echoed through the space and Opal fell back onto one of the bunk beds. At first she thought the fright of the noise caused her to lose her balance, but some toiletries tumbled off the dressing table next to the bunk bed.
“Even mountains can crumble,” she said.
Edwin glanced at the doorway. “That's not a good sign. Perhaps we ought to check the smoke situation now.”
Opal scanned the room one more time. The sun would be setting soon, and being in the dark only made the idea of being under siege more terrifying. She picked up an electric lamp from the floor and clicked the switch. To her surprise, the light came on, but she swore and turned it off again just as quickly, realizing the angry mob outside would see it.
“I'm sorry, that was so stupid!” she said.
Edwin said, “Did you hear that? They're quiet out there. Too quiet. I think they saw the light, and we're about to find out how well that catapult works for lobbing in smoke grenades.”
Opal pointed to the ceiling, which had a dark circle the size of a manhole, with a latch. “If that hatch opens, where do you think it leads?”
“In this crazy place? Well, it's on the ceiling, so it probably leads to the dungeon, through some magical gravity warp.”
Opal stared at Edwin. “Really?”
“That's not a real thing. I just made it up. In any case, I'd love to see the dungeon, or anything that isn't this room.”
“Great,” she said. “Gimme a boost.”
Edwin picked her up and held her high enough to grasp the latch. When the circle door opened, a telescoping ladder came down as well.
They both raced up the ladder and pulled the trap door closed behind them.
Now they were in a pantry. “Better than a dungeon,” Opal said.
Edwin stuffed his pockets with wax-paper wrapped treats. Opal didn't know the names of the squares, but they looked delicious. “For the road,” he said.
Opal grabbed some finger bananas, but put them back, for she had no pockets, and even if she did, the bananas would bruise too easily and be all icky. She was hungry, but she wasn't that hungry.
Edwin pressed his ear to the tiny pantry's only door and reported unhappy yelling noises. “I suggest we continue our way up,” he said, pointing to the ceiling, which also had a hatch.
He boosted Opal up and she opened the next circular panel. They climbed up and found themselves in a room with no doors at all, just filing cabinets, so they continued on through the next hatch.
They surfaced through the third trap door, into a garden. Opal thought they might be in the conservatory where she'd first encountered Mr. Grabby Hands Vine, but the bright pink all around them was the sky. The open sky. They were on the roof.
And they weren't alone.
Chapter Twenty-One
Opal and Edwin had emerged from the castle and found themselves on the roof, in a garden.
Opal said, “The roof! I guess up is still up after all.”
Edwin moved to stand in front of Opal. Softly, he said, “Retreat.”
Other people were on the roof, and a beautiful woman in a green robe approached them, moving quickly. Before they could introduce themselves, the woman flicked her hand at Opal and Edwin, knocking them back to the ground.
The breath knocked out of Opal, and she gasped, unable to pull in air. This had happened to her once before, when she fell out of a tree house at the age of twelve, and it had been almost as scary then.
This time, being unable to breath while staring up at a witch with white hair that didn't match a young face, plus glowing, purple eyes, was much, much worse.
“Breathe,” the woman said.
Air rushed into Opal's grateful lungs. Next to her, Edwin coughed.
Opal put a hand back to check her head for lumps, but thankfully she hadn't hit her head too hard, so that meant she was really seeing what she was seeing. The pretty white-haired lady's eyes were glowing purple.
The woman said, “Here to sabotage? You may speak now.”
Holding her hands up and trying to look small and helpless, Opal said, “We're not protestors. We wandered here by accident, and we just want to go home. Please let us go home.”
The woman bared her teeth like an animal—a pretty but fierce animal. “I ought to send you back from whence you came before you were born, back to the void.”
Edwin sat, but didn't stand. “I'm Edwin Taxman, and I'm here on official government business. We're conducting an investigation into the appearance of a daemon phenomenon, and people know I'm here. Several people. I would be missed, as would my intern, Ms. Opal Button here.”
The woman's eyes smouldered.
“My sudden disappearance would adversely affect your tax assessment,” he said.
Opal nodded in agreement.
“Fine,” the woman said. “Sit there against that turret and be very quiet. We're doing something of utmost importance.”
Opal said, “What are you doing?”
She flipped her shining white hair back and said, “We're activating the fail-safe, so we can vanquish the MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS!” She then reached down and tapped the roof with her finger, which made the circular hatch through which they'd just come disappear. “Stay there and be quiet.”
The white-haired woman walked over to join a group of five other women, who also wore green robes. Opal looked for the girls she knew—Carly, Delilah, Zara—but didn't see them in the group.
She whispered to Edwin, “Is your last name actually Taxman? That's so odd.”
He said, “Yours is Button. That seems more odd.”
“I guess so. What about Peter? What's his last name?”
“Barker.”
She put her hands over her mouth to stifle a giggle. “His name is Peter Barker? That's one letter off from the secret identity of Spider-Man. You do know about Spider-Man, don't you? Peter's a huge fan.”
Edwin rolled his eyes. “Yes, I've heard all ab
out Spider-Man. Personally, I'm more into Batman, because of all the gadgets. I don't talk about mainland culture much, though, because it's looked down upon.”
“Right,” Opal said. “We're not in Kansas anymore.”
“You're from Kansas?”
“No, Florida. It's just an expression.”
“You're not in Florida anymore.”
“Nope.” She wrapped her arms around her knees and huddled in a ball. If she stretched her neck up, she could see the ocean glinting in one direction, and a lush-looking forest in the other. As they were on the west side of the island, the sun was just climbing into the bath tub of the ocean that bordered the island.
She whispered to Edwin, “What's that ocean called?”
“The ocean,” he said.
“I got here by boat, so it has to be the Atlantic ocean,” she said.
“The island moves around, so it might not be, even if it was the Atlantic seven days ago.”
She put her chin in her hands. “Is west always west?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Actually, yes. See, things aren't that strange here.”
She watched the group of witches as they chanted and argued. After much yelling and one face slap, they all held hands and danced around a statue. The sun's glare off the ocean had been preventing Opal from seeing the details of the statue, but now that the sun was below the sea line and the world had turned the cold blue of twilight, the statue revealed itself as a stone unicorn, holding something like a ball between its teeth. The unicorn resembled Gumdrop, perhaps in his younger days, before he'd become so round.
The witches seemed to be trying to get the ball out of the unicorn's mouth.
Edwin said, “You cold?” and Opal realized she was shivering. The thin sundress-style shirt and leggings were not the best choices for adventuring.
“I should dress in layers,” she said. “Layers would be better.”
“Come here.” He put his arm around her, and she felt strangely happy, despite everything.
Beneath them, the castle trembled again, presumably from another catapult blow. Opal tried to scoot toward the turret, to peer over the edge, but she found herself unable to move. Her butt seemed to be glued to the roof, by magic.