Valerie snorted derisively. “I am a fearless reporter girl who fought a demon’s servants, and my boyfriend here has fought Veltdammerung. The word children really doesn’t cover it.”
“Maybe for Griffin,” Zoë gestured at Rachel. “She’s only thirteen.”
“Nevertheless,” the princess spoke primly, “children we are, and we would do well to remember it. A time will come when it is our turn, but that time is not yet. If we wish to live long enough to reach it, we should heed our elders and not put on airs regarding our age and abilities.”
Nastasia’s words made Rachel’s skin crawl. She wanted to shout: Where were these adults when I was facing Azrael? Where were they when Dr. Mordeau nearly killed Mr. Chanson? Where were they when Serena O’Malley kidnapped you and Sigfried? But she did not wish to quarrel with her best friend, especially not in front of the others. Zoë, Valerie, and Joy were sure to pile on against one side or the other.
Instead, she said, “As far as a name, Sigfried has already called us the Fire-Breathing-Tutor-Hunting and Vigilante-Retaliation Club and the Dreadfully Violent Adventuring Club.”
“Only you would remember that!” declared Joy, her hazel eyes dancing with playful amusement. “I know: The Die Horribly Club! Sigfried and the Princess and Rachel are all super important, I’m sure. They probably have a great destiny awaiting them. But Zoë and I are going to die horribly. I can feel it!”
“Thanks a lot for the vote of confidence,” grumbled Zoë.
“What am I?” murmured Valerie. “Already dead?”
Zoë said, “How about the: Going To Die Horribly Defending The Princess And Joy Club?”
“Hey!” cried Joy.
“That is not the official name of the club,” objected Siggy sternly. “The club is officially called the Giving Up All Chance For A Comfortable And Normal Life Club In Order To Die Horribly And In Lingering Pain Defending The Princess And Joy. You left out the ‘and in lingering pain’ part. That is what makes our club different from the Vampire Hunting Club and Von Dread’s clique. Their enemies will wipe them out instantly, without paralysis, killing family members, dismemberment, and torture.”
Valerie rolled her eyes.
“I’ve been thinking,” Siggy continued, “that the Giving Up All Chance For A Comfortable And Normal Life Club In Order To Die Horribly And In Lingering Pain Defending The Princess And Joy takes too long to say. We need something short and snappy: What about the Skunk Tossers? Or the Egg Beaters? What about Zoë and the Pussycats?”
“Zoë and the Pussycats it is,” quipped Valerie. “Everyone will have to wear cat suits and furry ears berets.”
“I still vote for Die Horribly Club,” pouted Joy.
“We do spend a great deal of our time arguing,” the princess said thoughtfully. “Perhaps the Dream Debate Society?”
“Oh, I know!” Joy bounced with excitement, nearly knocking over a chair. “The Die Horribly Debate Club!”
“That’s great!” Sigfried declared, “The Die Horribly Debate Club!”
“No!” Rachel exclaimed, “Please let’s call it…”
But it was too late.
The name had stuck.
The others began repeating Die Horribly Debate Club and laughing—everyone except the princess, who looked pained. Rachel completely sympathized.
“Enough about this,” Valerie interrupted finally. She turned to the dragon. “Let’s get down to the proverbial tacks of brass. Lucky, did the experiment work?”
“Yep, only the boss was talking super-duper fast. Faster than a singing chipmunk.”
Siggy said, “You were really slow. Every word you said, Lucky, took an entire ice age.”
“You really can talk to your dragon in your head?” Zoë blinked. “Creepy!”
“You talk to your dragon in your head, too,” Siggy countered. “The only difference is my dragon is real, and yours is imaginary.”
“How did you know I have an imaginary dragon?” quipped Zoë.
“You have an imaginary dragon?” asked Joy, wide-eyed.
Zoë rolled her eyes. “O’Keefe, you are so naïve.”
Valerie snickered, while Joy pouted.
“We have successfully performed experiment one: the communication of Mr. Smith and his familiar,” said the princess. “Before we move onto our next step, I would like to speak privately with Miss Griffin.”
“Certainly.” Rachel stepped aside with Nastasia. They stood in a corner next to a painting of some ancient tutor in green and black robes.
“Rachel,” Nastasia lowered her voice and whispered seriously, “I have a matter that I wish to discuss with you. It is on the subject of the boon Mr. Von Dread offered to us in return for our having saved him and his friends from death at Dr. Mordeau’s hands. I have thought of something I desire, but…I do not want to impose on you, to tread on your toes, so to speak.”
“My toes.” Rachel wiggled hers. “Um…how would it affect me?”
“I was thinking I might ask him for membership in the Knights of Walpurgis, but I did not wish to do this if you felt the Knights were your special project.”
“I would love to have you in the Knights with me!” cried Rachel, absolutely delighted. Then she would no longer have to worry about getting in trouble with the intimidating Dread because she repeated something she learned there to her friend.
“I am relieved to hear you say that.” Nastasia looked shyly pleased. “I am certain we shall enjoy attending together.”
“Yes, we shall!” Rachel declared. The two girls smiled at each other in delight as they walked back to join the others.
“Shall what?” Joy asked eagerly.
“I shall be cashing in my boon with Mr. Von Dread to join the Knights of Walpurgis.”
“Oh! Me, too! Me, too!” Sigfried raised his hand. “I adore Dread. He’s totally boss. I want to be a Knight! I even have a wand.” He lifted the length of cherry wood and gold with a ruby tip and waved it back and forth over his head. “He owes me a boon, too!”
“Certainly, Mr. Smith,” the princess smiled happily. “We would love to have you join us, wouldn’t we, Miss Griffin?”
“Indeed,” Rachel nodded, eyes sparkling.
“Then, it’s decided,” decreed Nastasia. “Back to current matters: what’s our next step?”
“Let’s experiment with The Spell of Bedazzlement,” replied Rachel.
“Let’s dazzle O’Keefe,” quipped Zoë. “She said she was expendable.”
“Told you this was the Die Horribly Debate Club!” groaned Joy.
“Yeah,” murmured Valerie, “and now we get to debate who is going to die horribly. Aptly named club.”
“I’ll do it.” Joy heaved a sigh. Spreading her arms, she squeezed her eyes shut. “Zap me.”
“None of us know The Spell of Bedazzlement,” the princess reminded her. “Miss Black performed it. She is an upperclassman.”
“Maybe I can do it,” Rachel said slowly. “I seem to be good at defensive enchantment, as hexes are officially called, I believe. Actually, it’s the only thing I’m good at.”
“Other than flying,” smirked Joy.
The corners of Rachel’s lip quirked upward. She nodded shyly. “I meant sorcery-wise.”
Rachel recalled the moment when Xandra performed the hex on her oboe. She listened to the notes. Then, she whistled them. Magical energies rushed through her lips, tickling terribly. Her cheeks and mouth ached painfully, sore from her recent efforts on Gaius’s behalf.
Nothing happened. She tried again.
After three tries, the princess said, “Apparently not. Why don’t we adjourn until after…”
“What do you mean, apparently not?” Rachel interrupted, taken aback. “I’ve hardly begun! Give me a moment.”
It took her thirteen tries before her sore lips could maintain the five notes long enough to produce blue sparkles. Remembering what Gaius had told her about the paralysis hex, she concentrated. Blue sparks flew from her mouth and d
anced around Joy.
Joy’s eyes glazed over. She began to weave around the classroom, bumping into chairs and giggling uncontrollably. The elkhound barked excitedly.
“Ooo. Siggy. You’re so cute. I love your golden curls. Kiss me again.”
Zoë and Valerie burst into laughter. Siggy frowned and ran a hand through his hair as if he had not previously noticed that he had thick golden curls. Then he saw Valerie watching and put his hands behind his back, trying to look nonchalant.
Valerie stomped on his foot.
“What? It’s not my fault,” he scowled. “I’m not Zoë. I didn’t pick my hair color.”
Joy’s performance was terribly embarrassing. Rachel felt weak at the thought that she might someday make such a spectacle of herself. She whistled again, the paralysis hex. Her sore lips and cheeks hurt, but more blue glints of light played over Joy’s body. Joy froze.
“In the future,” Rachel stated, her cheeks afire, “let’s paralyze the person first.”
“The victim, you mean,” Valerie stated cheerfully. “Paralyze the victim! Rule noted.”
They lay Joy on the table and left Lucky to watch her. Valerie sat her elkhound down and told her to “guard.” Beauregard retreated back into the corner. The rest of them followed Zoë into the mist. When they emerged, they found themselves in a dream version of Joy’s bedroom.
Joy was bouncing on her bed while chatting animatedly into a round talking glass. The walls were covered with posters. Among the K-pop bands, which Rachel recognized because her sister Laurel’s room had similar pictures, was a poster of the rock star Red Ryder, grinning in his skin-tight red and blue glittering garments with gold safety pins piercing his ears. The poster was only visible for an instant, and then was replaced with something else. The other posters, too, seemed to flow from one to another as Joy dreamed. The room got fuzzier as it moved father from where Joy sat. The far side was just a brownish blur.
Joy’s bed was covered with a collection of bobble-headed, pastel Witch Babies and a big, white, cat plushy that was the spitting image of Joy’s familiar—a big, long-furred, white cat she had creatively named Fluffy. Her sister Charity’s bed was neater, but scattered with issues of Original Tongue Today and Wise Wear magazines, along with an issue of the comic, James Darling, Agent. The posters on her side of the room featured popular broom jockeys.
At first, Joy’s gaze did not track them, as if she did not see them. Zoë leaned over and shook her shoulder. Joy gave a little cry. The talking glass in her hand vanished, but the rest of the room became slightly sharper. It was a small room, cramped. With two desks and chairs taking nearly all the available space. It could have fit in Rachel’s bedroom at least three times.
“Is this your room?” Siggy gawked, staring around him.
“Yeah, it’s not much.” Joy blushed and looked like she wished she could hide the room.
“It’s huge!” Siggy’s eyes bugged out. “And you share it with less than four people? Wow. At the orphanage, fourteen of us lived in the same dorm room. And the new guy always had to sleep on the floor. This is wicked cool!”
Rachel thought Sigfried was kidding, but his eyes were so wide, his expression of admiration so sincere that he must have been serious. Her heart went out to him. She wished she could give him one of the hundreds of rooms in her family’s huge, drafty, nearly empty mansion—any of which were bigger than this one, including the closets.
“I share it with Charity, the youngest of my six older sisters,” explained Joy.
“You have a sister,” Siggy sighed dreamily. “I’d like to have a sister.”
Valerie snapped a picture, illuminating Joy’s dream room with her flash. The whole room grew lighter, a pleasant view of the sky replacing one wall. “Okay. That worked. What now?”
“We now know we can find our way into dreamland at any time, so long as one of us is willing to be bedazzled,” replied Nastasia.
Rachel said thoughtfully. “Right now, if we were in Transylvania, at least one of us would still be stuck. Let’s try Valerie’s idea: bedazzle one of us inside your house, in your purse, Nastasia. Then, you can try to carry the bag into the dreamlands. If this works, we can leave anywhere, at any time.”
“That’s a brilliant idea!” Siggy grinned. “Then, we’d never be stuck. Good thinking, Griffin!”
“It was Valerie’s idea.”
Siggy gave his girlfriend a huge grin. “Good thinking, Goldilocks! I knew you were the smartest girl in the girl-pack! Or do you call it a herd? Gaggle? Huddle? What’s the term for a gathering of girls?”
Zoë shook her head and took them back to the waking world. Lucky nudged Joy’s sleeping body. She sat up on the table.
“Ow.” Joy rubbed her elbow and her side. “Why do I hurt?”
“Sorry,” Rachel murmured. “After we bedazzled you, you walked into a chair.”
“What else did I do?” Joy’s face went from pink to bright red. She looked so embarrassed, Rachel suddenly found that she liked the other girl more than she had before. Recalling Joy’s earlier comment, Only you would remember that, Rachel made a decision.
“Use me,” she said aloud. “I want to show you all something.”
Nastasia said, “But you’re the one casting the enchantment. You can’t bespell yourself.”
Sigfried grinned and pulled out his battered trumpet. It was a school loaner and had streaks in the brass where it had once been bent and hammered back into shape. He played the notes Rachel had whistled. Blue sparkles swirled around the mouth of his instrument on his very first try. Rachel smiled and sighed and froze that way.
“You know you’re an amazing child prodigy, right?” mused Valerie. “It takes the average student a month to three months to learn a simple enchantment. There are records of students graduating with less magic under their belt than you have already.”
Sigfried spun the trumpet on his finger. “Did I explain that I can do magic tricks? I have an empty mind, which gives lots of spare room to stow this stuff.”
“Then, why can’t you learn True History?” she asked.
“That name sounds familiar. Is that one of the classes we have here? I think I use that class for naptime. Because, how does knowing the date when something boring happened help you smash bad guys and set them on fire?”
Valerie sighed.
It took him three tries to get the Spell of Bedazzlement. Rachel waited patiently, unable to scratch her nose. She was reminded of standing for inspection before her Victorian grandmother.
Then…
Dreams danced through her head, or maybe she danced through dreams. The field around her sparkled with flowers under a dark starry sky. Or maybe those were stars in the meadow. A unicorn munched nearby, whinnying slightly as it swallowed a star-flower. When Zoë touched her shoulder and Rachel woke to herself, she found she was stroking the unicorn’s silky coat.
Zoë’s hand held that of Sigfried, who was stepping from the mist. Siggy’s arm trailed off to where the others were beginning to appear behind him.
“Nice unicorn,” began Zoë, smirking.
Then her eyes went wide and she uttered a strangled, ack. She and those behind her were jerked backwards, as if pulled by a collapsing rubber band. Then, they were gone. Rachel stood alone under the starry sky. The unicorn nuzzled her ear.
“Hey, cutie, want a ride?”
Gaius leaned down from the unicorn’s back, his hand extended. Or at least, the dream figment looked a lot like Gaius, though Rachel instantly knew it was not really him. For one thing, Dream Gaius was taller than real Gaius. Dream Gaius gave her a huge grin, bigger and more showy than his waking counterpart.
“Why, yes, thank you!” Rachel reached out and took his hand.
Dream Gaius lifted her up and placed her on the unicorn in front of him.
The beast raced across the meadow, sending tiny multi-colored stars flying in its wake. Rachel laughed with joy. Dream Gaius’s arms tightened around her waist.
&nb
sp; They ran across fields and through a forest that was thick and deep and filled with mystery. Dark limbs of evergreens hung low over their heads like deep green feathers. In the strange way of dreams, they were accompanied by the noise of drums and the smell of lavender. Through the trunks, Rachel caught a glimpse of the giant Lenni Lenape woman, whom she had seen the first time she had come to the dreamlands. The old lady patiently cut lopsided, five-pointed stars from yesterday’s moon and stuck them to the black velvet sky. A waterfall ran beside her. A pale face with a nimbus of dark hair peeked out from behind the rushing water. Then that scene was gone, and the forest was everywhere. From the high branches, funny little faces peered down at her, leathery, wrinkled faces that were neither animal nor human. Rachel waved.
Then they galloped again across the star-studded meadow. Her dream steed raced on. It was glorious, and at the same time, peculiar. It was not like riding any real horse. The motion of its stride was all wrong. Horses did not move like rocking chairs. Also, no wind pressed against her face or tugged at her hair.
“Whoa!” Zoë stepped from a puff of mist. “Enough horseplay, Griffin. Get down here.”
The unicorn halted. With a tiny giggle, Rachel slipped down from its back and waved goodbye to Dream Gaius.
“You should be careful about interacting with dream figments,” Zoë warned her as the others appeared behind her. “Aperahama Whetu said it’s best not to pay attention to them.”
“Oh…” Rachel frowned and glanced to her right.
The unicorn was munching grass again. Standing beside it, his hand resting on its mane, Dream Gaius stared apprehensively up at the night sky where a fleet of many-masted clipper ships sailed among the stars. In the way of dreams, Rachel understood that, as he watched the star ships, he was worried about the vision the princess had seen regarding his past.
Was real Gaius worried about his past, too?
“Which reminds me,” Zoë continued, flipping her braid in a circle. “Remember how your father told you about a dream expert coming to Roanoke? Turns out, that was Whetu. He says he won’t be able to come for months, maybe not until next year. I’m not sure if he’s really busy, or if he made up a reason to put them off for my sake. Either way, for the best.”
Rachel and the Many-Splendored Dreamland (The Books of Unexpected Enlightenment Book 3) Page 17