The Doldrums and the Helmsley Curse

by Nicholas Gannon

  “What’s going on?” Adélaïde asked, setting two mugs on the desk.

  “It’s Archer. He’s still in Rosewood. We need to get him. Do you have a map?”

  “There’s one in the delivery truck.” Adélaïde rushed out.

  ARCHER: What happened after I left?

  OLIVER: The police were questioning your grandparents. Then Mr. Dalligold showed up. I’m not sure what he said, but the police left immediately. There’s something odd about him, isn’t there? Adélaïde’s got the map. What’s the name of the hotel?

  ARCHER: North Canal Hotel.

  OLIVER: You’re . . . north of Howling Bloom Street and west of the Society.

  ARCHER: When can you come?

  ADÉLAÏDE: Archer, this is Adélaïde. The storm is supposed to hit at seven. Amaury is closing the café at six to be safe. I don’t want to give him the Doxical Powder until he locks the door. If everything goes well, we can meet you by six thirty. Will that work?

  ARCHER: Yes. The Inquiry is tonight. We have to get there before it ends. I’ll wait for you on the south side of the canal. I have to figure out how I’m going to escape.

  ♦ TICKTOCK, TICKTOCK ♦

  That day could not have passed any slower. After breakfast, Archer discreetly searched for the room key while his mother sat at the table, reviewing a list of potential new homes. The key wasn’t anywhere to be found. It must still be in his mother’s pocket.

  After lunch, Archer stood on the balcony, craning his neck to better see the hotel’s facade. There was a drainpipe. If he held on to that and used the stone windowsills, he might be able to climb down. It wouldn’t be easy descending eight stories, but that’s what he’d do.

  At that same moment, on Willow Street, Oliver pulled a fresh batch of raspberry strudels from his mother’s oven. He slipped the jar of Doxical Powder back into his pocket while waiting for them to cool and then piled the pastries into a paper bag, keeping the two with Doxical Powder on top. He’d put a thumbprint on those so as to avoid any mixup.

  On North Willow Street, Adélaïde grabbed the Greenhorn uniforms, slipped into her boots, and knocked on Kana’s front door.

  As dinner neared, Archer heard a great commotion outside. He went to the balcony and watched a massive crowd of Society members leaving the hotel. They got into Society trucks, which lined the street. One by one the trucks set off, rumbling over a bridge to cross the canal. The clock tower above Rosewood Station tolled six o’clock. A snowflake landed on Archer’s forehead. He looked to the sky. It was a giant sheet of cold gray steel.

  Inside Belmont Café, Amaury stood at the window, also peering up at that sky. The café was as desolate as the streets of Rosewood. Adélaïde, Oliver, and Kana were seated at the bar, ready to do something they didn’t want to do.

  ♦ AMOUR OR LESS AMAURY ♦

  “Time to close up,” Amaury said, turning from the window. “All of you need to get home safely.” His eyes widened when Oliver opened the bag of raspberry strudels.

  “Would you like one?”

  “I told your father we need to sell these, Adie,” Amaury said, taking a huge bite. His second bite was much smaller. “Did your mother change the recipe? Or was the milk a bit rancid?”

  “I don’t think so,” Oliver said.

  It was obvious Amaury didn’t like the pastry as much as he had during the Glubs’ Christmas party, but he politely finished it, gagging slightly, and then left for the back of the café.

  Adélaïde’s, Oliver’s, and Kana’s eyes were glued to the clock while their ears listened to Amaury tidying up. In almost exactly ten minutes, an eerie silence settled, followed by a loud bang and a crash. A very different Amaury returned to the bar. Adélaïde had never been frightened of Amaury before. She was now. His kind eyes had been emptied of all goodness and his considerable mass, which usually made him warm and approachable, had become menacing.

  “What are you still doing here?” Amaury demanded, clamping his hands onto the bar and glaring at them with dead eyes. “I told you to leave!”

  “We—we were about to,” Adélaïde promised, leaning back and wiping a speck of spit from her nose. “But we were wondering if we could—”

  “You don’t look like you’re about to leave, you liar! You told me you’d tell your father I needed help. I believed you! But have you said a word to him? No! I’ll bet you like watching me drown in this sea of coffee!”

  “I’m sorry,” Adélaïde said. “I meant to tell him, but I forgot. I’ve been busy with—”

  Amaury’s laugh was as cruel as it was cold.

  “Busy? You’ve been sitting around ever since that lamppost fell on you!”

  Adélaïde looked as though a hot coal had been dropped down her dress. Kana whispered in her ear. “Remember, this is not Amaury.”

  “I don’t like secrets!” Amaury insisted.

  “It wasn’t a secret,” Kana explained.

  “It looked like a secret.”

  “Secrets don’t look like anything,” Oliver said. “They’re just words said quietly.”

  “Then take your quiet words and . . . Actually, you can stay.” Amaury ripped his apron off and nearly cracked the counter in two as he slammed it down. “I’m done spending my every waking hour surrounded by your father’s coffee.” He marched to the door and almost tore it from its hinges.

  Oliver spun on his stool. “Wait! Can we use the delivery truck?”

  Amaury dug into his pockets and tossed him the keys. “Do me a favor and push it off the Rosewood cliffs. I’m done with deliveries. I’m done with this coffeehouse of horrors.” He turned and slammed the door behind him.

  They all felt terrible. Especially Adélaïde. And that’s exactly how they should’ve felt. When you turn someone who is very kind into someone terrible, technically you’re the terrible one.

  “We shouldn’t have done that,” Oliver said, fiddling with the keys.

  “We can’t take it back now,” Kana replied.

  Adélaïde was staring at Amaury’s apron, strewn across the counter. She had known he’d be nasty. But she didn’t think he’d dig up her past.

  Oliver grabbed the pastry bag and handed her a strudel. “That might cheer you up.” He gave another to Kana. And took one for himself.

  Adélaïde and Kana finished theirs before Oliver had even taken a bite. He stared at the strudel, then, almost in one gulp, swallowed it. “We’d better get ready,” he said, crumpling the bag.

  Adélaïde slapped his arm. “Why is the bag empty? You put Doxical Powder into two pastries! You wanted a backup just in case!”

  Considering the situation, Oliver didn’t look tremendously surprised. He simply closed his eyes and dropped his forehead onto the bar. Adélaïde and Kana frowned at each other.

  ♦ THE DUMBWAITER ♦

  Archer and his mother finished their dinner.

  “Please return the trays,” Mrs. Helmsley said, and stepped into the bathroom.

  Archer carried them to the dumbwaiter. He was worried about scaling the icy facade of North Canal Hotel, but he didn’t have a choice. His friends would be here soon. He clicked the return button. A light came on—both above the dumbwaiter door and inside Archer’s head.

  Why hadn’t he thought of it sooner? He’d been staring at it for two days. He could escape inside the dumbwaiter! It was small and he wasn’t sure it would support his weight, but his only other option included a high probability of plummeting. If Archer was going to plummet, he preferred to do so in darkness inside the hotel wall. He set the trays back on the table and dug the Society map out of his trunk.

  ♦ FOR GOOD LUCK AND GOOD MEASURE ♦

  “I don’t get it,” Adélaïde said, staring at Kana. “Something should have happened by now. You look fine. I feel fine. And Oliver is . . .”

  Oliver hadn’t said a word. His head was still resting on the bar. Adélaïde put a hand to his shoulder. “Are you feeling okay, Ollie?”

  Oliver peeled his face from the b
ar. Kana giggled. Adélaïde groaned. Oliver’s expression said it all. He was perfectly serene. He hadn’t a care in the world.

  “I love it when you call me Ollie. And to answer your question, yes, I feel perfect. Better than perfect, really. I feel perfectly perfect.” His words were both delicate and sweet, like a whispered lullaby.

  “You ate the wrong pastry,” Adélaïde explained.

  “Wrong pastry?” Oliver smiled and tapped his finger on Adélaïde’s forehead. “Don’t. Be. Silly. Silly,” he said with each tap. “There’s no such thing as a wrong pastry.”

  Adélaïde turned to Kana. “I vote we leave him behind.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Kana said. “He might wander outside and get lost in the blizzard. Or what if he goes home? I don’t think his parents should see him like, well . . . look at him.”

  Oliver was spinning his finger in a sugar bowl. “It’s like sand—sugar sand. I wonder if stars are filled with sugar sand? Maybe stars are sugar sand.”

  “You have a point,” Adélaïde said, jumping down from her stool. She grabbed the bag of Greenhorn uniforms and handed Oliver a pair of pants. He immediately slipped them over his arms and began flailing them like tentacles.

  “I’m the creature from the abyss! I’ve come to take you into my lair!”

  Adélaïde wasn’t amused. “If the creature from the abyss doesn’t sit down and put his pants on, he’ll be left behind.”

  The flailing stopped. Oliver placed a pant-leg arm on Adélaïde’s shoulder. “I worry about you sometimes. You can be very negative.”

  “We’re going to the Society, Oliver,” Adélaïde sighed, sorting through the bag and handing out shirts, sweaters, and ties. “You need to be a little more serious about this. Mr. Mullfort tore a hole in Archer’s house, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “Don’t you worry about Mr. Mullfort,” Oliver said, taking his arms out of the pant legs. “You leave him to me.”

  ♦ STRUGGLING ♦

  Archer clicked the dumbwaiter button a third time and put his ear to the door. The gears ground as a cable carried the box up the shaft and to their room. The grinding stopped. The light went out. Archer threw it open and hoisted himself inside. He fit—barely. His face was jammed against his knees and he struggled to reach back out to press the return button. He’d finally managed it . . . when the bathroom door opened.

  Mrs. Helmsley saw him wedged inside the dumbwaiter, but it must have taken a moment to register. Archer had just enough time to click the button before she sprang forward.

  “Archer! What in name of all that’s good and proper do you think you’re—”

  Archer wrenched the door shut, and the box began its descent.

  ♦ TO THE NORTH CANAL HOTEL ♦

  Adélaïde unhitched the cargo trailer of the delivery truck and made room for Oliver, who sat not unhappily amid crates of coffee.

  “You better get inside, too, Kana,” she said. “Archer should be up front.”

  Kana climbed in, and after shutting the trunk, Adélaïde took her seat behind the wheel. A small round hole was cut into the rear cab, and as soon as she sat down, Oliver shoved his head through it.

  “It’s like one of those carnival things!” he cheered. “You know, where you stick your head through a piece of wood with a hole in it and your body becomes a lobster or something. What do I look like?”

  “You looked like a boy who stuck his head through a hole,” Adélaïde said.

  “Oh. That’s not very fun, is it?”

  Adélaïde stuck the key into the ignition, wishing she’d had a chance to learn how to drive. As the engine idled, she studied the pedals at her feet. She pressed her foot to the gas. The truck moved forward. She put her foot to the brake. It stopped. “Simple enough,” she mumbled.

  “Lights,” Oliver said. “Don’t forget the lights.”

  Adélaïde pressed a button on the dashboard. Windshield wipers squeaked back and forth.

  “Those aren’t lights.”

  “Keep quiet!”

  Adélaïde pushed a second button and the headlights came on. Kana passed her the Rosewood map. North Canal Hotel was circled in red. Adélaïde set it on the seat next to her and peered into the side-view mirrors. Her eyes widened, not sure if she was seeing things. But Kana saw it too, through the window on the cargo door. Two figures in long black coats were rushing the truck.

  “Hurry, Adélaïde!” Kana called. “I think we’re being—” Kana shrieked as one of the figures grabbed the cargo-door handle. The other figure was outside Adélaïde’s window with one hand on the windshield and the other on her door.

  “DRIVE!” Oliver shouted, his head still in the hole. “It’s Birthwhistle’s people!”

  Adélaïde slammed on the gas. The truck flew out onto Howling Bloom Street and, a moment later, was swerving sideways onto Foldink. Adélaïde jammed on the brake. Oliver’s head was no longer sticking through the hole.

  “Is everyone okay?” Adélaïde asked, leaning out the window and looking back. The two figures had been launched into a snowdrift. Neither was moving.

  “I’m fine,” Kana said, securing the cargo door.

  “I’m fine too,” Oliver added. “The coffee boxes broke my fall.”

  “Did you crush them?”

  “It’s difficult to . . . it’s very dark back . . .”

  “He crushed them,” Kana confirmed.

  Adélaïde winced. Her father wouldn’t be happy about that.

  “We need to leave,” Kana said. “They’re standing up.”

  Adélaïde gripped the wheel, and they were off.

  If you were sitting near a window, waiting to see the storm roll in, instead you’d have found yourself watching a peculiar thing. The delivery truck would speed up all at once, then stop, then begin again, slower now, then faster, then too fast! Then stop. But as they made their way up Foldink Street toward North Canal Hotel, Adélaïde was learning how to control the vehicle.

  ♦ ESCAPE FROM NORTH CANAL HOTEL ♦

  Archer was terribly uncomfortable stuffed inside the dumbwaiter box. The gears ground much louder than before. Like his heart, the dumbwaiter struggled to keep a steady pace. His mother would be getting into the hotel elevator at the very same moment. He was sure she’d be fuming. Whatever Mr. Churnick had said to convince her that he was a changed person was now out the window. The dumbwaiter stopped. The door opened. Archer’s eyes were flooded with light, and his ears with a thunderous clanking of pots and pans and hissing water.

  “It’s a boy!” someone shouted.

  Archer popped out of the dumbwaiter like a piece of toast from a toaster.

  “What are you doing?” a chef demanded. “That’s not a toy! You could’ve broken it and fallen to your death!”

  Archer bolted for the kitchen door, then sprinted down a hallway, shoved through another door, and nearly tumbled face-first into the lobby. The concierge was hunched over a sofa, grumbling and scrubbing a footprint off it. Archer raced for the doors. Behind him, the elevator dinged. He sprang out onto the snow-covered streets and never once looked back.

  CHAPTER

  FIFTEEN

  ♦ INTO A POISONOUS DREAM ♦

  Archer flickered in and out of light as he dashed beneath lampposts that lined a canal bridge. The wind was picking up and snowflakes speckled his forehead. He was breathing heavily when he reached the other side and paused to search the deserted streets.

  Archer heard the delivery truck before he saw it. It sounded like a windup toy. A headlight suddenly appeared down a narrow alleyway. The beam swerved left and right as it grew closer. Archer backed up onto a mound of snow and raised his hands over his head. The truck slowed, slid sideways, and stopped.

  Adélaïde unrolled the window and tossed him his Greenhorn uniform. “We didn’t think we’d ever see you again,” she said, smiling.

  “It’s been a long two days, hasn’t it?” Archer replied, hopping into the truck. “How did everyth
ing go for you?”

  “Mostly fine, but something happened at the café.”

  “To Amaury?”

  “No. Well, yes. We turned him into a monster. But there were—”

  “Archer!” Oliver shouted as his head popped through the hole. “I’m glad you could make it! This is exciting, isn’t it?”

  Archer blinked at Adélaïde.

  “He’s filled with Doxical Powder. And pastry. We thought about leaving him behind.”

  “But we didn’t want him to get lost in the blizzard,” Kana called.

  “It might be fun to get lost in a blizzard,” Oliver mused, and lowered his voice, trying to whisper to Archer. “But Adélaïde has been a bit stuffy since before we left the café.”

  “I can hear you, Oliver. I’m right here.”

  “See what I mean?” Oliver said, wiggling his eyebrows and disappearing into the back.

  “We’ll keep an eye on him,” Archer whispered.

  “Two eyes,” Adélaïde agreed. “But that’s not what I’m talking about either. There were two people outside the café. They tried to stop us.”

  “We think they were Birthwhistle’s thugs,” Kana called again. “They must have been following us.”

  “It could have been Mr. Dalligold’s friends,” Archer said, scanning the streets. “I told Mr. Dalligold about the communications and to keep eyes on all of you. What did they say to you?”

  Everyone was silent.

  “We didn’t really give them a chance to say anything,” Oliver explained. “We kind of, well . . .”

  Adélaïde bit her lip. “We almost ran them over.”

  “You what?”

  “Don’t worry,” Kana called. “I saw everything. They were shaken. And covered in snow. But they stood up. They’re not dead.”

  “We’ve been a little anxious. I’m sure they’ll understand,” Adélaïde said, putting her foot to the gas.

  ♦ THE ROAD SOUTH ♦

  The snow grew thicker as they sped south. Adélaïde turned up the windshield wipers. “How did you figure out where the communications were?” she asked.