Mazarine smiled bravely up at her like she used to, with a special beautifulness Cecelia vowed to protect, and then closed her eyes.
“Right.” Cecelia scooped her mother up effortlessly—she weighed no more than a bouquet of daisies—and hurried down the rest of the stairs.
At the bottom, Cecelia found another door, this one of iron and wood. The torch above this exit illuminated a crushed, heart-shaped lock that someone—or -thing—had smashed open before their arrival.
Strange. Cecelia wondered if the gnomes were strong enough to break an iron lock. The disturbing paper dolls wouldn’t help them escape, yet someone seemed to be.
Cecelia set Mazarine on the landing before the door. “I’m going to get us out of here. You wait and see.”
The ground buckled. They sank into the collapsing stone.
“Cecelia . . .”
The walls disintegrated. Bits of rubble fell like hail.
“Don’t worry,” Cecelia replied. “I can do this.”
“Cecelia, the mists . . .”
Monstrous streams of black fog rolled down the staircase toward them, larger and uglier than ever. The torches on the walls extinguished at once.
Inside the slithering darkness, Cecelia focused on her brother—that he had once lived—and that her father and mother needed her now more than ever. Cecelia whipped around, faced the mists, and roared, “We are stronger than forgetting, fiercer than the Land of Yesterday. We are hope. And hope thrives in the hopeless dark!”
Cecelia’s lantern flared. A beam of light blasted into the mists. The black vapors shrieked and writhed and shrank back from her shine.
Mazarine cried out, “Cecelia, something’s wrong. . . .”
Cecelia kicked open the door as the desert began to crumble like an earthquake at the end of the world.
Chapter 20
An Unlikely Ally
The door flew open with a crack and a bang. Riotous winds ripped it free of its hinges and sucked it into oblivion. The mists on the stairway scattered into a million black smithereens and vanished with an angry shriek.
“Mother!” Cecelia called into the tempest.
Mazarine sat hunched over on the floor, eyes closed. Sand, blown in with the wind, coated her mother in a glitter of onyx dust. When Cecelia knelt before her, she noticed her mother’s boots had papered. And that paper, like the rest of her mother’s paper skin, didn’t seem as strong as Cecelia’s. Choking on desert, wind, and death, Cecelia knelt at her side. “Are you okay—can you walk?”
Her mother didn’t answer. But just when Cecelia feared the worst, she witnessed a miracle. Mazarine Ignoscentia Dahl forced her eyes open, and stood.
“Oh souls,” Cecelia exclaimed. “You’re okay!”
Mazarine didn’t look well. One of her hands was severely crumpled, her legs wibbled and wobbled unsteadily, yet she stepped into the door frame, regardless. Dress flapping like a paper flag, blue-and-silver hair whipping sharply sideways, she replied, “I’ll be fine, thanks to you. A bit weak, but I think I can make it.” Then, like magic, her mother’s lantern sparked to life. The flame was small, but there.
“Wonderful.” Cecelia’s grin lit up her whole face. “Take my hand, let’s—”
A terrible rumble, low and slow, issued from under their feet.
Rip.
Shred.
Shimmy.
Poised to walk through the door frame, they shared a what was that? glance.
CRACK.
The floor vibrated and lurched. Their cages rattled, lanterns trembled, and teeth chattered. The stairwell broke away from its foundation. The castle was shattering around them, and soon it would fall. “Take my hand,” Cecelia shouted to her mother. “Hold tight and don’t let go, even if my hand breaks!”
Mazarine nodded, squinting into the black storm. And then, with one last groan of rock tearing from earth, the hidden stairwell divided from Never More and Once Again. The turret of stairs and stone lifted with a groan and a whoosh.
“We’re heading up,” Cecelia hollered, hair flying. “Hang on!”
The stairwell pitched and swayed. Cecelia held her mother closer and peered into the thrashing desert below. Higher now, Cecelia saw everything—the castle, the wastes of Yesterday getting farther away, and the Haunted Galaxy of cobwebs and dust. The only thing left to wonder was, who was helping them escape?
The familiar hissing of a rocket blasting off roared overhead.
“What’s that sound?” asked Mazarine.
Cecelia puckered her brow.
Could it be?
Pushing her face into the gale, Cecelia spied two ropes hooked to the turret currently hurtling toward space, and one extra-large black-and-white-striped hot-air balloon carrying them. “Trystyng and Phantasmagoria!” Cecelia cried. “It is them!”
Phantasmagoria and Trystyng, back to their nondog selves, clapped and cheered from the odd new Dröm Ballong. And beside them stood another someone as stalwart as the gnomes.
“Caterwaul! You came, too.” The Caterwaul heaved the ropes attached to the turret until it could heave no more. Extending one giant arm, first to Mazarine, and then to Cecelia, the Caterwaul hauled them into a black wicker basket, twice the size of the last. The Cat Guardian set them down, and welcomed them each with a bow.
Cecelia ran at its furry girth and hugged it tight. “I’ve missed you.” Then she moved on to the gnomes, who seemed to have given up their feud with the great cat. “And my dear friends, Phantasmagoria and Trystyng, I was so worried about you both.” Cecelia embraced them at once. “Sorry I left you in the desert when I entered the castle. I didn’t realize you’d gone. Still, you came back. Thank you.” They shook their heads and waved her apologies away.
The Caterwaul cut the ropes to the staircase with one slice of its razor-sharp claws. The balloon lifted, wobbled, and swayed. And thanks to the stones piled high on one side of the basket to compensate for the Caterwaul’s weight, it didn’t upturn. Together, the motley crew watched the turret plunge through the black depths below. It crashed into a mountain of sand. Another lost, curious thing in Yesterday’s desert.
Once the Dröm Ballong had steadied, Cecelia rejoined her mother and led her toward the gnomes. “Trystyng, Phantasmagoria, I’d like to introduce my mother, Mazarine Dahl.” Cecelia glowed with pride. When Mazarine stepped forward on wobbly legs, Cecelia hurried to help her.
“Hello, brave masters.” Mazarine nodded queenly to each gnome. “It is my absolute pleasure to finally meet you.” After Phantasmagoria and Trystyng gave her an aww, shucks look, they removed their hats, bowed like gentlemen, and kissed the backs of her hands. Mazarine giggled and kissed their cheeks in return.
The gnomes blushed so furiously, Cecelia thought their ears might whistle and steam.
Next, Mazarine turned her attention to the Caterwaul and gave a chivalrous bow. “And I am honored to see you again, Caterwaul, especially under these pleasanter circumstances.” Mazarine smoothed its great whiskers and planted a smooch on its cheek, too.
The tips of the Caterwaul’s fur turned tomato red. “Heeellloooo, Maaazzarriiiinnne,” the Caterwaul purred, and offered the sweetest grin. “The hoooonoooor iiis miiiiinnne.”
The Dröm Ballong bounced and bumped in the high winds, and nearly knocked her mother off her feet. Once again, Cecelia—and her hair—reached out to help her.
“Where did you get this balloon, anyway?” Cecelia asked. “It’s so much bigger than those before.”
Trystyng and Phantasmagoria, busy checking this gauge and that lever, paused to point at the Caterwaul. The fur at the Caterwaul’s cheeks blushed even darker than moments before. “Maaade it forrr yooooooou,” the Caterwaul replied.
“You”—she paused—“made this, for us?”
Clasping its paws behind its back, the Caterwaul nodded and shuffled its feet. Stray daisy petals clung to the Caterwaul’s furry coat. Mazarine plucked a few free, her lantern shining a little brighter.
Cecelia�
�s hair blew forward and stroked the Caterwaul’s fur. “You broke the Law of Yesterday and helped us, didn’t you, Caterwaul? You braved the mists and left us a trail to the exit.”
Trystyng and Phantasmagoria pointed at the Caterwaul, nodding so fast their hats tilted and spun.
Cecelia lunged at the giant bewhiskered beast and mumbled, “Thank you,” into its soft coat. “And you two,” Cecelia laughed. “You literally ripped the castle to bits to rescue us.” Trystyng and Phantasmagoria shrugged nonchalantly and glanced at their feet. Cecelia hugged them once more.
Mazarine pulled the Caterwaul aside. “You are quite the hero, aren’t you?” she commented with a sly glance. The Caterwaul growled pleasantly. “Why did you risk your position as Guardian to the Land of Yesterday to help us?”
The Caterwaul raised its silvery eyes onto Cecelia, fur blowing in the wind. “Nobodyyyy everrr hugged the Caterwauuuul befoooore Ceceliaaaa hugged the Caterwauuuul. Nobodyyyy everrr showwwed Caterwauuuul suuuch lovvvve.” It turned back to Mazarine. “Herrr giffft tooo meeee waaas the greaaaatest gifffft of aaaaall.”
Mazarine stroked her daughter’s hair, like she had when Cecelia was small. Grateful, it nuzzled her back.
A sharp gust of wind shoved Cecelia and Mazarine sideways. Cecelia’s broken ankle buckled; the bindings holding it together snapped. The Caterwaul caught them both before they sailed into space. After setting Mazarine down, the great cat lifted Cecelia, cradled her ankle in its paw, and grinned. “III wiiill fiiiix yooou.”
It produced the pen she’d given it and shook a single sorrowful tear onto her fractured leg. Immediately, daisies sprouted from her skin. Their vines twisted upward, stitching together her broken halves; the vine then cut itself free, and wove into the new Dröm Ballong’s basket, coating it in white-and-yellow blooms.
“You did it—you fixed me.” She tested her new ankle, twisting it this way and that. “It’s wonderful, thank you.”
“Thank yooou,” the Caterwaul roared. “For fixiiiing Caterwauuuul’s heaaarrrt.”
“Oh.” She blushed. “I didn’t do anything, Caterwaul. You fixed your heart on your own. And,” she whispered into its ear so only the cat could hear, “now that we’re in reasonable shape, let’s find my father. Then we can fix him, too, and be a family again.” Cecelia frowned at her mother’s frail skin as the Caterwaul set her down.
Before it’s too late.
The Dröm Ballong skirted the black desert of Yesterday like a planet moving around a sun, heading to the other side. It soared through haunted space in search of Widdendream and her father, yet came up empty. Then suddenly, Cecelia spotted the most beautiful cranberry-orange sunrise peeking up in the distance. The closer they drew to the colorful dawn, the faster Cecelia’s lantern flickered.
The last few times her lantern had pulsed that way, her father had been nearby. Her excitement mounted as the Dröm Ballong rounded Yesterday’s other side.
Directly below them was an ocean dotted with daisies, waters of purple and gold, and a man in a yellow slicker rowing a small white rowboat. The same bearded man she’d spoken with when she’d fallen through Widdendream’s floor back in Hungrig, the same one Lady and Lord Arnot claimed to have met.
“Aubergine told me once,” Mazarine said to Cecelia, staring down at the same sea, “that the Land of Yesterday has two sides. One is dark as death and means to trap you, but the other is bright as hope and wants to free you.” Mazarine cast a confident yet tired glance below. “That must be the other side of Yesterday.”
“Yes,” Cecelia answered softly. “The Sea of Tears.”
Just then, like spinning paper tops, two photographs of Mazarine sailed by. Cecelia and her mother reached out and grabbed one each.
Together they uttered, “Widdendream.”
In a lightning bolt of revelation, Cecelia knew where Widdendream was. She remembered the photographs of her mother strewn about Widdendream’s attic. She remembered how on the nightmare planet, when Widdendream shouted at her in a gust of angry wind, photographs of Mazarine blew out. And how, when Widdendream blasted off the Planet of Nightmares, its burners sputtered and its body struggled to rise.
Widdendream had crashed into the Sea of Tears and left a trail of evidence behind.
Cecelia glanced at her frail mother and knew exactly what she’d have to risk to rescue her father. But first, she’d have to come clean with her mother. Cecelia put on a brave face and told her everything. How Widdendream threatened her. How it hid her father away, hurt him, and ran. How it loathed Cecelia yet loved her mother and would do anything to have its best friend back. How it had become dark, evil, cold.
Mazarine digested Cecelia’s every word—sadly, then angrily; and finally, she held her head high with new determination and an even stronger lantern flame. “It seems Widdendream has left us no choice.”
“Follow the daisies,” Cecelia said.
“Follow the daisies, indeed.”
The battle wasn’t over yet.
Chapter 21
A Bittersweet Not-Goodbye
On the flip side of Yesterday, winds raged over Captain Shim’s Sea of Tears. The balloon jostled in feuding gales. Daisies and leaves ripped from the Dröm Ballong’s vines and circled them wildly. Mazarine clung to the Caterwaul’s fur; it shielded her from the winds. Cecelia stood alone in the center of the hurricane and faced the gnomes.
“Trystyng! Phantasmagoria!” Cecelia shouted over the squall. “We need to see the Captain, right away.”
Trystyng gave her a firm salute, and then did something she didn’t expect. He opened his mouth to speak.
“Oh no!” Cecelia grasped the fraying vines. Her hair twined the ropes. She squeezed her eyes tight, bracing herself for the gust about to blast from his mouth.
But the following softhearted words issued from the gruff gnome instead: “Your command is our duty, Miss Dahl.”
Cecelia unclenched.
She understood him.
His words did not blow her away.
“Anything for you, Miss Cecelia,” Phantasmagoria added with a bow. “Anything, always.”
Before she had a chance to comment on the gnomes’ lack of blustery language, Trystyng reeled about to face Phantasmagoria and the Caterwaul, all cordial niceties gone. “Well, what are you two lazy lots waiting for, Phantasmagoria and Caterwaul, do-nothing day? We’ve got a father to find, so let’s get back to work!”
“Wait!” Cecelia grabbed Phantasmagoria and Trystyng, and laughed. “I understand you. How is that possible?”
Cecelia’s hair clapped excitedly.
“You survived Yesterday, of course,” Phantasmagoria answered with a cheerful grin.
Trystyng added grumpily, “Only those who escape Yesterday understand the language of Now.” He shook his head, rolled his eyes, and said with a sigh, “Obviously.” He peeked at Cecelia then and gave her the warmest smile of all.
“Really?” Cecelia beamed. “How wonderful!” She pulled her friends to her and hugged them one more time, never wanting to let go.
The sun, the shade of fresh orange juice, hung halfway in and out of the sea.
Mazarine left the Caterwaul’s side, pulled her daughter close, and kissed the top of her head. Their faces gleamed inside the strange citrusy light. “I wouldn’t be here without your help. Thank you for coming for me, Cecelia.”
Cecelia smiled up at her mother. “I will always come back for you.”
The Dröm Ballong began its descent.
“Where will we land?” Cecelia noticed no islands or rocks.
“Don’t worry,” Trystyng bellowed. “We’ll get you to the Captain safely.”
“Hang on!” Phantasmagoria shouted. “We’re coming in hot!”
The Dröm Ballong shuddered and shook and dropped. Freefalling toward the rowboat in the center of the sea, it slammed on the brakes midair, a car’s length above the boat. The crew, shaken and definitely stirred, clambered to their feet. Cecelia helped her mother to rise.
Trystyng and the Caterwaul avoided her eyes. Their faces lowered, mournful, sad. Phantasmagoria plucked one last daisy from Cecelia’s tresses. His smile, heartbreaking and fateful, had the feeling of goodbye.
“Oh,” Cecelia replied sadly, “I see. This is as far as you go, isn’t it?”
Trystyng took Cecelia’s hand and kissed the back like a proper gentleman. Her hair wiped tears from his unusually nongrumpy eyes, which made him cry even more. “Last stop, miss,” he choked with a sob and a sniff. “This is the end of the . . . of the . . .”
Unable to finish his speech, Phantasmagoria lifted his chin and took the lead. “This is the end of the line for us, Miss Cecelia and Miss Mazarine.” He bowed, smiling kindly, new steel in his eyes. “It has been our honor to serve you both. Perhaps, someday, you’ll join us again for another adventure.” He slipped his hat from his knobby head and bowed low to Mazarine; with a gracious grin, she bowed back. He winked at Cecelia and pulled her into the greatest, gnomeiest hug of her life.
Cecelia’s lantern grew even brighter.
Trystyng and Phantasmagoria stepped aside and let the Caterwaul through. The Guardian of Yesterday dropped to one knee and held its big, fuzzy arms out to Cecelia.
“Oh, Caterwaul. You’re not leaving, too, are you?” Even as Cecelia said the words, she knew the answer. She buried her face in its warmth, trying to imprint this moment into her forever memory.
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