by E. G. Foley
The sea-witch was already in the middle of changing back into her true, ugly form. Gladwin winced at the sea-hag’s hobbling gait over the dry ground.
The transformation from beautiful opera singer back to squidy hag looked awfully painful. Fionnula shrieked and gnashed her sharp teeth as her shapely human legs morphed back into a mass of thick, writhing tentacles. A dainty red shoe clattered down the steps. “Oh, please, Waldrick, quickly! I must have another feather!”
“You need to get back in your tank and do your blasted work. Did anyone see you like this?”
“No! Oh, I’m so ugly! I hate those mermaids! Look what they’ve done to me! I’ll fix them one day. I’ll curse them all, do you hear me?”
“Yes, yes, I hear you,” he muttered.
She leaned her hefty bulk against Waldrick as he helped her down the dark stone stairs toward her pool.
“Quickly, Waldrick! I’m drying out!”
Fionnula Coralbroom swore like the luckless sailors she had once devoured as the earl helped her squish her way back to her alcove, scolding her all the while.
“I told you not to dawdle. You do this every time.”
They reached the waist-high edge of her stone pool and he struggled to give her a boost.
“Where have you been?” he demanded, grunting with exertion as he helped her get her large girth over the stone edge of her pool.
Gladwin covered a laugh with her hand.
At last, Fionnula plunged into the water with a splash. She came up with a sigh. “Oh, Waldrick, you should’ve seen me! I went to Drury Lane Theatre and nearly caused a riot with one little tune!”
“Well, your fun is over,” he snapped, wiping drops of water off his face in disgust. “We’ve got work to do.”
“Too tired.” Fionnula floated on her back and closed her eyes.
He splashed her in annoyance. “Don’t you dare go to sleep! I want my questions answered! What happened at Newgate? Where are my men? They haven’t returned!”
“Haven’t they?” She opened her eyes and looked at him curiously.
“Look in your Seeing Bowl and tell me where they are!”
“You don’t have to be so pushy about it!”
“What happened at the jail?” he repeated.
“How should I know? I did what you told me. I sang my tune and put them in a trance. Your men went off around the building, and I left to go amuse myself. That’s the last I saw them.”
“Well, find them!”
Fionnula huffed but obliged him, peering once again into the magic waters in her divining bowl, made from the shell of a sea-turtle. “Oh, dear.”
“What?”
“You’re not going to like it.”
“Tell me!”
Fionnula frowned. “Your men have run away. They’re afraid to come back for fear of what you might do to them.”
Waldrick’s cold gray eyes glinted. “As well they should be, if they failed. Derek Stone?”
“Alive.”
“What of the boy?”
She waved her hand over the water’s surface with a murmured chant, then said, “I see him escaping with the Guardian to Beacon House.”
Waldrick slammed his fist down on the table, but Gladwin received this news with joy. The boy was still safe! A roar came from the beast below, but Waldrick bellowed “Silence!” like he might explode.
Gladwin grinned at her fellow prisoners, but they were cowering, as usual. The creature in the dark cell below the workshop grew quiet. The earl leaned his hands against the table and stared into the candle flame, collecting his thoughts. Its flickering dance seemed to soothe him.
“I’ll never reach him there,” he said at last. “Beacon House is nearly impregnable, guarded by many spells and fearsome animal spirits.”
“They’ve already left Beacon House,” Fionnula reported hesitantly, as though afraid to anger him again. She waved her warty hands over her divining bowl once more. “They’ve moved on. The boy is now at—”
“Don’t even say it.”
The witch looked over at him.
Waldrick’s eyes shot sparks as he glanced over at her. “Griffon Castle.”
“Yes, my lord! But the boy is there alone! You should go at once and finish him off tonight!”
“I cannot do that, Fionnula. Surely you have not forgotten my charming brother’s parting words? How he cursed me right before he died, so that never again would I be able to set foot on the grounds of our home? Griffon Castle is the one place in this world where I cannot reach the brat. He’s even safer there than at Beacon House.”
Gladwin absorbed this while Waldrick paced.
“Unless—” he suddenly turned to Fionnula, “you have some notion of how I could lure him away from the castle? Make him come to me…? Then I could finish him off for once and for all.”
“Hmm.” Fionnula looked impressed at the suggestion and opened her thick, leather-bound grimoire. She began thumbing through the ancient, yellowed pages, considering different spells. “Well, this might work…the Oboedire spell. Very old, very powerful. If we use this spell, the boy will be forced to ‘obey’ your every command.”
“Really? Some sort of mind control! How perfectly delightful!” He let out a low, diabolical chuckle and straightened up from leaning on the table. He turned to her, his fists propped on his waist.
“But there are drawbacks, as with every spell.”
“Like what?”
“This spell creates a sort of link between two people’s minds, the controller and the slave. Just as you’ll be able to see inside of his mind, he’ll be able to see…inside yours.”
Waldrick frowned. “I’m not sure I like that. But then, it only has to work long enough to lure him away from the castle. Then I’ll kill him.”
“There is another drawback.”
“What’s that?”
“An essential ingredient in this potion is a hair from the boy’s head,” she said, scanning over the recipe. “Seems a bit of a problem. If we could get close to him to pluck one of his hairs, we’d be close enough to kill him. How are we going to steal one?”
“You and I can’t, perhaps, but I know someone who can.” Waldrick sent her a cunning smile and strolled over to the cage that rested on the table. He opened it, and the dreadful spider crawled out onto his hand. “Malwort can do it easily.”
Gladwin ducked instinctively when she saw the spider.
“He is extremely stealthy, aren’t you, boy?” Waldrick smiled as the spider crawled up his arm. “Malwort can get close to the brat without anyone even noticing. You are willing to help, aren’t you, my friend? There’s an excellent juicy horsefly in it for you. Or a few!”
“Oh, yesssss, Master, yesssss! Tasty morsels! Malwort will help.”
“Capital spider! You shall come along with us on our little holiday out in the countryside.” He put the arachno-sapiens gently back into its cage and closed the door.
“Very well,” Fionnula said uneasily, lifting a tentacle and wriggling it at him. “But I cannot go with you in this form.”
“Oh, yes. Don’t worry about that—”
“Don’t worry?” she retorted. “If those horrid water nymphs catch me near one of their inland rivers or streams, they’ll tear me limb from limb! Barbarians.”
Waldrick smiled broadly. “My sweet Fionnula, nobody’s going to tear you limb from limb. I’ll bring plenty of extra feathers, so don’t fret. You can maintain your lovely disguise for as long as it takes. Now, then, make sure you assemble all the other ingredients you’ll need in order to brew this potion while we’re there. We shall leave later this morning. When we get there, we’ll take lodgings in the village of Gryphondale, near Griffon Castle. Any questions?”
Fionnula shook her head.
“Then if you’ll pardon me, I must go and pack my things for our little holiday.”
“Yes. And I need my beauty sleep.”
“That you do,” he mumbled.
“What did
you say?!”
“Oh, nothing. Good-bye for now, my dear.” He hurried out of the dark underground lair, and before long, the horrid Fionnula Coralbroom was reclining in her stone pool, snoring.
Gladwin was brimming with excitement over the information she had overheard. If only she could get out of here, she could warn Guardian Stone to keep Jacob at the castle, where he’d be safe until the Order had dealt with Waldrick and Fionnula. Gladwin was perfectly willing to testify against the odious man for kidnapping her and the other magical creatures, and for harboring the sea-witch—a dangerous wanted criminal and fugitive from justice.
These crimes alone were enough to get Waldrick locked up for a very long time, never mind his attempts to kill his innocent young nephew.
Gladwin’s immediate problem, though, was how to escape. She had bruised her arms and worn out her muscles yesterday trying to pry the lid off the jar, holding onto its air holes. She tried again now, but the thing wouldn’t budge. “Crocodile!” She banged her head against the glass in frustration so hard that the jar rocked. “Ow.”
As she rubbed her head, the answer came to her all of a sudden.
Ohhhh, Gladwin, you dolt! Why didn’t you think of that before? The solution was suddenly obvious!
It might be a little dangerous, but…
Backing up, she ran the two or three steps across the jar, ramming the opposite side with her shoulder.
Again, she did it. Again and again.
The jar skipped closer toward the edge of the shelf. She kept running back and forth, rocking the jar with all her tiny weight, until suddenly it tipped off the shelf and fell, plunging toward the floor.
She lifted her wings, poised to fly, and brought up her arms to shield her face from broken glass.
Smash!
The jar hit the floor and shattered into pieces, but Gladwin’s feet didn’t even touch the ground; she flew up from the broken jar, clearing the jagged edges of glass by a hair’s breadth. She zoomed toward the ceiling.
Free!
Unfortunately, the crash of the jar hitting the floor had awakened Fionnula. The witch sat up with a walrus snuffle, then cursed when she saw the trail of golden sparkles revealing Gladwin’s path.
As Gladwin flew wildly toward the exit, the witch grabbed her petrified starfish wand and began hurling bolts of magic at her, shouting some spell meant to stop her in her tracks.
Gladwin dodged this way and that, ducking the jaggedy currents of blue energy that flew out of the wand like little bolts of lightning. She bumped her head on the ceiling and nearly bruised one of her wings.
Meanwhile, the other captive creatures had awakened and were yelling at her, “Higher! Lower! Watch out! Behind you! Let us out, too!”
But it was too late.
All of a sudden, a current of energy engulfed Gladwin; she found herself suspended, unable to move, floating inside a blue bubble.
“WALDRICK!” the sea witch bellowed at the top of her lungs. “Come down here, you useless human bumbler!”
He came running. “What’s all the commotion?” he shouted, charging down the steps.
“Do something with that thing! Your stupid fairy woke me up!”
He gasped when he saw Gladwin hanging motionless in midair. Gladwin gulped as he narrowed his eyes at her. She couldn’t move her arms or legs, couldn’t flap her wings.
She couldn’t do anything as he sauntered over to her and looked her in the eyes—the bubble hovered at about his eyelevel. “Well, well. Thought you could get away, did you? That wasn’t very smart.”
“You take care of her,” Fionnula complained. “I’m going back to sleep.”
“Oh, believe me, I will.” He reached into the blue bubble and popped it as his giant hand closed around her.
Gladwin’s head and shoulders were free above the base of his thumb, while her toes fluttered out by the heel of his hand. Fighting and cursing against him in her fairy language, she pushed against his grasp, to no avail.
“Maybe I’ll feed you to Malwort, after all,” he said.
“M-m-master,” the satyr spoke up, bleating like a sheep in his fright.
“What is it?” Waldrick snapped.
“Respectfully, sir, fairy blood is poisonous to spiders.”
The cherub nodded earnestly. “I’ve heard that, too, my lord.”
“Is it really?” Waldrick looked surprised. He eyed each of his prisoners skeptically. “Hmm, I will look into that. You had better not be lying. In the meanwhile, I suppose we can’t take any chances of anything happening to our dear little Malwort. He has an important job to do.”
Thanks to her fellow captives’ quick thinking, Gladwin was spared the fate of being fed to the spider. Instead, Waldrick took a small wooden box down off the shelf. It had wire mesh for a lid. “Ha, you won’t be able to break this.”
Gladwin panicked when he started to put her in the box. She had to get out of here!
Unable to wriggle free of his grasp, she had one last means of trying to make him release his giant hand from around her.
She bit him.
“Ow! Why you miserable little gnat! How dare you?”
Her attempt didn’t work—he only gripped her harder. He lifted her up to glare in her face, his cold gray eyes shooting sparks of rage, like a blade being sharpened on a spinning stone. “Foolish little fairy, you should not have done that. Now you’ve made me angry. Thought you’d fly away? Well, I’m sorry to say, your flying days are over.”
The blood drained from Gladwin’s face as he picked up the pair of scissors lying on the worktable. Then he brought them toward her, opening the blades and eyeing up her delicate gossamer wings.
“No, please! Not my wings! Anything but that, I beg you!”
But he couldn’t understand her pleading, nor would he have cared. He snickered as he brought the giant scissors up behind her.
Gladwin squeezed her eyes shut and screamed.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Of Parting Ways & Flying Machines
Derek Stone told Dani all about Jake’s shocking background as they rode to Griffon Castle astride the warrior’s towering black stallion.
Teddy poked his head out of the satchel on Dani’s back and sniffed the air when they arrived before two tall, wrought-iron gates. The giant gates were flanked by pillars topped with stone gryphon statues.
The fierce beasts seemed to stare at them as they rode through the gates and continued up the long, tree-lined drive. Holding on to Derek’s waist, Dani peeked around the warrior for a look at Griffon Castle’s towers and turrets.
She could not believe Jake had been born in such splendor. At last, Derek brought his tired stallion to a halt and jumped down from the saddle. He lifted Dani down and set her on her feet, and Dani, in turn, put Teddy on the ground.
Stretching from nearly four uncomfortable hours on the horse, Dani glanced at the boarded-up, abandoned castle. Derek walked to the front door and reached for the door-handle.
“Isn’t it locked?” She did not know why she whispered, but there was an eerie stillness about this place, as if it slept under some enchanted spell.
Derek gave her an odd look over his shoulder as she followed him. “People don’t lock their doors in the country, Miss O’Dell. I think perhaps you’ve been in London too long.” He opened the door and stepped inside with a cautious glance around. “Jacob?”
“He hates being called that.”
“Oh? Jake?” he tried again.
Teddy raced in past them and immediately began barking and running around.
“He’s found something,” she said. “Teddy! Stop that! What’s that you’re after?” She ran farther into the castle to catch the little rascal. “Teddy, no! Leave that frog alone! Mr. Stone, there’s a frog in here! There’s…a bunch of ‘em!”
Teddy was barking merrily at the frogs, whirling this way and that. He dashed off and chased another while Dani hurried after him with a grimace. “What are frogs doing in a castle? It’s
like a Bible plague!”
The panicked frogs were in retreat, trying to escape, but the wee terrier was having a marvelous time, his front half down, his haunches high, his tail wagging madly. He seemed to enjoy making them hop by menacing them with his bark.
“Teddy, that’s not nice. Drop him, now!”
Teddy looked up with a frog dangling from his mouth.
Dani put her hands on her hips. “Teddy!”
The terrier dropped the frog with a disappointed whine. She bent down and reached to pick Teddy up to keep him out of trouble, but the terrier suddenly caught a familiar scent and dashed off, following his nose.
The dog led them straight to Jake.
They found His Lordship in the great hall, sleeping on a couch across from the fireplace. Her dog, helpful as ever, was already busy waking him up, standing on Jake’s chest, licking his nose.
Dani ran over to them. “Jake! Are you all right? I’ve been scared to death! When that thing grabbed you—”
“I’m fine,” he mumbled, pushing Teddy aside. Then he sat up with a yawn. He had wrapped himself in the dust-cover cloth from the sofa and was using it for a blanket.
“I see you’ve found your way home,” Derek said as he joined them.
“It appears so,” Jake replied in a low, cautious tone.
They both looked at the painting above the mantel, then exchanged a somber glance.
Dani realized in shock it was a picture of Jake’s parents. The resemblance was unmistakable. Abruptly, she fell silent, not knowing what to say.
If Jake really was an aristocrat, he probably couldn’t be friends with her for much longer. She was just a commoner, and would soon be headed back to the rookery without him. And then what? she thought in dread.
No more magic in her life. No more adventures.
“I walked around the grounds last night and found their tombs,” Jake said. “There’s a marble mausoleum in the woods with a reflecting pond in front of it.”
Derek nodded sadly. “Are you all right?”
“Aye. Hungry.” The bedraggled boy-earl let out a yawn, but as usual, refused to admit how he really felt. “I don’t suppose either of you brought something to eat? I’m starving.”