by Lucia Ashta
“As you imagine, I’m quite interested in seeing this dragon, especially since you say he was dominated by a magician so great as Count Washur.”
Beneath my elegant dress, bodice, and delicate shawl, I bristled. ‘Dominated’ was a very strong word for a magnificent creature such as a dragon.
“Very well then, let’s go, brother.” Grand-mère moved to the edge of her seat. “Would you like to join us?” she asked us. “It’s a beautiful thing to watch Gustave interact with dragons.”
“Yes, that would be wonderful,” Mordecai said, speaking for everybody. Like Grand-mère, we scooted to the edge of our seats. Regardless of whatever wasn’t right about this man, none of us wanted to miss viewing the interaction between a skilled magician and a magical beast.
“Do you think there’s enough time before dinner, darling?” Grand-mère asked Marcelo. He reached across his chest with his good arm and fumbled for his pocket watch. Upon examination, he spoke. “I believe so, Lady Ariadne. We have sufficient time to enjoy your dragon and still change into dinner attire. I’ll indicate Anna to notify Mrs. Bumrose that there might be a slight delay with dinner, just in case.”
“Marvelous.” Grand-mère stood and we all moved to follow.
Gustave reached out a hand to halt his sister. When his flesh touched her hand, she startled and looked down, as if the hand of her darling brother were somehow offensive. I held my eyes steady, afraid to make eye contact with any of my friends.
As if in slow motion, Grand-mère looked down at Gustave’s pudgy hand, resting atop her long, fine-boned one. She studied it for longer than normal. Finally, without a word, she withdrew hers from his touch and took a quarter step back from him. From there, she squared her shoulders to him, and I thought she looked like the embodiment of a confident witch, both powerful and beautiful. She waited for him to speak.
For the first time since he arrived, he skipped a beat. But when he spoke, his composure was once more wrapped around himself neatly like a cloak. “My Ariadne, perhaps we could go see the dragon tomorrow. As anxious as I am to see Humbert, I’m also worn from my travels, and my work that preceded it. I would much rather enjoy a nice meal with my family and sleep before any more excitement.”
Grand-mère smiled at her brother, even though the smile was different than the ones she’d offered him when he first arrived. A lady trained in the polite ways of the nobility couldn’t deny such a request. It wouldn’t be reasonable no matter the dubiousness of the circumstances. The rules were a thing apart, in their own way that ran as an undercurrent throughout the families of the region.
“Bien sûr, mon frère. Why don’t you take a bit of a repose and clean up before dinner? We shall see the dragon tomorrow.”
“And also see to the transformation of Gertrude. It is that which I’ve been most intrigued by.”
Carefully, I held my body still. The only sign of the churning of my insides was the complete stillness that I didn’t normally possess. Marcelo tightened his grip around my hand.
Grand-mère didn’t say anything. Rather, she reached for the bell atop the table next to her and rung it. Even though Marcelo was the true lord of this castle, Grand-mère was too used to being the lady of a house. Since Marcelo would soon be part of her family, she took advantage of the benefits of being family to the lord of the castle already.
Anna soon appeared. “Yes, Milady?”
“Anna, please show my brother here to his chambers. I presume that you’ve put him near me?”
“Yes, Milady. He’ll be in the room next to yours.”
“Good. I’d like to be near him if he should need anything.” Or to keep watch of him, I thought. It seemed that Grand-mère was regaining her usual wits.
“Yes, Milady.”
Grand-mère, normally quite free with her affections, kept her hands neatly folded in her lap. “Go rest now, Gustave. I’ll let you know when dinner is near to be served.”
“Thank you, Ariadne.” Gustave stood with all the mannerisms of the gracious brother. When he passed Grand-mère, he bent over her and brushed a kiss against her cheek. Grand-mère didn’t move.
As Gustave followed Anna from the parlor, I wondered who, if anyone, had won this skirmish.
Surely, the war had only just begun.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Once I heard Gustave’s steps fading up the staircase, I turned toward Grand-mère expectantly, wondering if whatever strange effect Gustave had over her had passed. From her final comments to him, it seemed as if it had.
Yet Grand-mère’s eyes were vacant. A glazed expression replaced her usual intelligence, at once making it apparent that there was no point in discussing our concerns about Gustave. She wouldn’t be able to hear them.
I first looked to Marcelo. My concern for Grand-mère was echoed in his own features. I looked to Mordecai. It was then that I first knew he’d fallen in love with her. Somewhere along the way of our retreat from Washur, Grand-mère had bedazzled him.
He took the seat Gustave had just vacated and waited, beaming compassion at my elegant grandmother. I noticed just how sharp and clever she normally looked now that she didn’t. She seemed lost and confused, and fully unaware that she was either.
I whispered as I imagined one did when discussing a person whose mind was no longer there: with respect though with impunity. “What happened to her? Her expression changed completely once he walked past her. Did he do something to her?” I didn’t want to use Gustave’s name in case it triggered something in Grand-mère.
Mordecai responded over his shoulder, not removing his eyes from Grand-mère’s features, still sensuous regardless of her age. “He must have. It’s obvious that there’s some kind of witchcraft in play. This isn’t normal.”
Grand-mère began to make several comments, but abandoned them as false starts, completing none of them. “There, there, Ariadne,” Mordecai said. “There’s nothing for you to concern yourself with. We’ll take care of everything.” He rubbed her hand, too fast, with two fingers. “Perhaps you might want to sit back and close your eyes. A little rest might do you some good now.”
Grand-mère didn’t seem to hear Mordecai, and I immediately grew agitated. It was one thing not to like my great uncle and to feel uncomfortable in his presence. It was quite another to witness how he confounded a person I loved. I rose and went to her.
“Grand-mère, let me help you. Lean back.” Carefully, I encouraged her to sink into the seat behind her. “Brave, will you please bring over the ottoman by the window?”
“Let’s lift your feet, Grand-mère. It will be much more comfortable for you.
“That’s right. There you go. Now just rest. Close your eyes and don’t worry about what we are saying.”
“Très bien, ma chérie. Je suis fatiguée.” It probably wasn’t a good sign that she’d reverted completely to her native French.
“Sleep if you can. I’ll stay with you as long as you need.”
Grand-mère nodded, but I had the sense that she was already gone behind closed eyelids. I rounded the men in the room. “What on earth is going on?” I whispered more harshly than I meant to. “There’s something very, very wrong happening.”
“Undoubtedly,” Marcelo said, and stood to begin his pacing. “What proof do we have that this man is who he says he is?”
“None apart from Ariadne’s,” Mordecai said.
“Wait. Wouldn’t he have come with attendants? Where are they? In the staff’s quarters?” I looked to Marcelo. He snapped his fingers and nodded. “I’ll check on that in a moment. I was just thinking. You know what this reminds me of? When Mirvela had Mordecai and Sir Lancelot under her spell.”
“Yes!” I said.
“The feel of the situation was similar, wasn’t it?”
“It was very similar. So that would mean that Gustave has placed Grand-mère under a spell of some sort. That also means he can likely do it to anyone else.”
“Brave,” Marcelo said with urgency, “please go up
to the room Sylvia is in and warn the creatures of the situation.”
“All right.” Brave was already in motion.
“And Brave? Please stay with them and keep guard.”
Brave nodded and was off.
“Mordecai, what was it like for you when Mirvela had you under her spell? Was there any part of you that knew what was happening?” I asked the question gently. I knew Mordecai felt chagrined by how effectively Mirvela had used her charms to play him.
“I knew nothing but what she implanted into my brain. I believed the story with which she presented me free of doubt or question.”
“Could any danger come to Grand-mère through our interference with Gustave’s spell? Is there any way that breaking his spell could hurt her?”
Silence sounded loudly in answer to my question. That wasn’t good. “Can our intervention harm her—permanently?”
Marcelo paced. Mordecai sighed noisily. “With magic, there are some things that are known, but those that aren’t known are more. Nothing in magic is precise or truly predictable,” Mordecai said. “There’s always danger, at times small, at others large.”
“That’s the case with all kinds of magic. Not just in this instance,” Marcelo said.
“Yes, yes, of course. It would help to know who this magician is and whether or not he’s actually Ariadne’s brother. Confirming his identity will help us understand how powerful he is and what kind of magic he’s inclined to use.”
“Are we certain that he isn’t Ariadne’s brother?” Marcelo asked.
Mordecai shook his head to the clicking sound of the beads. “No, we don’t know one way or another. He may be Ariadne’s brother. He could be under a spell of his own, one that influences his own actions as well as hers.”
“Well, he doesn’t look the least bit like her,” I said.
“Have you ever seen a daguerreotype, a drawing, a painting, anything that would indicate your great uncle’s appearance?” Mordecai asked.
“No. Never. Remember that my mother went to extreme measures to ensure that I knew nothing of the magical side of my family.”
“Then we should begin by speaking with any attendants that accompanied him here.” Already, Marcelo was nodding. “What was the name of the messenger that came to Dillbasin? His attendant.”
“Gregore,” I said. I always remembered names.
“Why don’t you go see if you can find Gregore, my son?”
“Sure,” Marcelo said and moved across the room, toward the entrance to the parlor.
“Why don’t we just make Gustave leave?” I said, with a guilty glance toward Grand-mère. She seemed completely unaware that we were speaking at all. She might have even fallen asleep based on the steadiness and depth of her breath.
“My child, it’s far safer to have our enemies close under our watch than far away, uncertain of when the attack will come. Before we do anything, we need to find out who this man is. If he isn’t Gustave, then we must discover who he is and what he wants. There’s little more dangerous than underestimating your enemies.
“Go now, my son. Come back as soon as you have news. If Gustave is indeed dangerous, we should gather in Sylvia’s room as soon as possible to ensure everyone’s safety.”
Marcelo planted a protective kiss upon the crown of my head. His lips lingered. “Be careful,” he whispered so softly that only I could hear. Then he exited the parlor.
“Oh, Marcelo,” Mordecai called.
Marcelo stopped and turned. “Yes?”
“It might be wise to warn the servants. We don’t want to scare them. But we don’t want another disappearance like Carlton’s either.”
“I’ll warn them. I’d already thought to. And don’t worry. They don’t spook easily. The majority of them worked in this castle when my father was the lord, and Count Washur his only frequent visitor. Dracula himself could show up at the front door, and the staff might invite him in for tea.”
I thought I identified a bit of pride creeping into Marcelo’s voice. And then, he was gone again, crossing the entryway toward the other side of the castle, where the kitchens occupied the floor beneath.
I took the seat next to Mordecai and slumped into the cushioned back in perfect un-ladylike fashion. I crossed my arms over my chest. “So now we wait?”
The old magician leaned back too, creaking and settling into the plump couch back with appreciation. “Ah, now that’s better.” He extended his legs out in front of him, so that the tips of his shoes peeked out from beneath his outdated cloak.
“What do we do while we wait?” I asked.
“I think, child, it’d be best if we did little to nothing at all. It seems that we might need our strength again before long.” The old man closed his eyes.
I tried to follow his example for a few beats, but it didn’t work. “Is this what magic is always like?”
“What do you mean?” he said, eyes still closed.
“Do the threats go on and on, seemingly without a pause long enough to recover fully?”
“Hmmm, no, not usually.”
“No?”
“No. Surely, I can’t claim that Albacus and I led a boring life by any means. But there were long stints of peace, when fighting anyone wasn’t required of us. It’s only since you first delivered Marcelo to us in Irele that we haven’t had much tranquility.”
Mordecai didn’t seem particularly bothered by the recent excitement. However, I didn’t know what to say in response, so I didn’t say anything at all. What did it mean that his life had filled with danger since I became a part of it? Was he trying to say that Albacus had died indirectly because of me? No, I didn’t think so. He appeared relatively unperturbed by the tumultuousness that had taken over the last several years.
“Don’t worry, child, I’m not saying that the recent dangers are your fault. Not at all.” I swiveled toward him, staring, safe before his closed eyes. Could he read minds? I’d been debating this question almost since the time I first met him. “We all have our own destinies in life. Also, we cycle through different stages. Some stages bring understanding and peace. Others bring their opposites. There’s little sense in resisting what we can’t change. Rather, I’ve found that it’s far better to make the best of the situation as it presents itself. The only thing we can truly take responsibility for are our own actions.”
“Was it turbulent for you and your brother when you first came into your own magic?”
Mordecai chuckled. “It’s incredible to think how long ago that was. I never imagined Albacus and I would find the way to extend life and that he and I would live for centuries.” There was a pause in which I knew he was remembering Albacus and feeling the heaviness that remained from his death. “I suppose it was a bit more eventful when we were first coming into our magic. Not just for us, but also for our sister.”
“I haven’t heard you speak of her before,” I hedged.
“Yes, well, Oliana died a very long time ago, when we were quite young.”
“Will you tell me about her someday?” I said in my most respectful tone.
He opened his eyes and turned toward me. He studied me for long enough to make me wish I could retract the question that hung suspended in the air in front of us.
“I’ll tell you her story. But not today.” He turned to stare absently ahead of him. “I think we have enough excitement going on without rehashing the tragedies of the past. Now let’s try to enjoy a moment of peace before Marcelo returns. I have the feeling it might be our only chance today.”
I wasn’t about to argue, and watched him lean back farther into the couch and shut his eyes again. He ran a hand across his long beard, before laying his hands to his stomach.
Grand-mère might have been sleeping, and if she wasn’t, she hadn’t moved once since Mordecai and I began talking. I closed my eyes too. I was certain I wouldn’t be able to sleep, but I figured it would be wise to follow Mordecai’s advice. The excitement of the day had already been quite enough.
&n
bsp; Chapter 27
My eyelids were shut for no more than ten seconds when they flew open again. Marcelo very literally ran by the parlor and didn’t stop to look at any one of us before calling out, “He’s not who he says he is,” and continuing out the front door.
Mordecai stretched lazily, as if he’d just woken, refreshed, from a long night’s sleep. Then he got up. “Help me with Ariadne. We’ll need to get her upstairs. We can’t leave her alone now.”
“Aren’t you going to see if Marcelo needs help?” I asked incredulously.
“He doesn’t need my help. He’ll be back inside soon.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know him, and my brother and I are the ones that taught him magic since the time he was a boy. He’s gone outside to seal the windows with a spell so that Gustave can’t escape through the window of his room.”
Not for the first time, I was reminded of the long history that Marcelo shared with Mordecai and how recent an addition I was to it.
“And we don’t want Gustave to escape because it’s better to have our enemies close?”
“Precisely, my girl. If he were to escape, it would be more difficult to anticipate what kind of danger he might be to us.”
I just nodded, trying to catch up to the thought processes that pertained not only to military strategy, but to magical military strategy. Marcelo pulled the front door closed behind him just as Mordecai managed to talk Grand-mère into making the journey upstairs.
“Did you manage to get the windows sealed, son?”
“Yes.”
Mordecai noticed Marcelo’s gaze fidgeting toward the stairs. “Go ahead. We’ll be right behind you.” Marcelo bounded up the stairs, anxious to see everyone in Sylvia’s room safe. Be careful, I called out in my mind, even though it didn’t make a difference. Marcelo was still recovering. I seemed to be the only one to remember that fact.
Our progress was much slower.
“I don’t think I want to go upstairs. I’m quite comfortable down here,” Grand-mère argued.