“He does indeed.” The ghost nodded seriously. “Every All Hallow’s-Eve, he rides up the river from Sleepy Hollow, arriving at midnight exactly. You lot had better be safely back behind the wards of your academy before he gets here.”
“Why should we be afraid of the Wild Hunt?” asked Rachel. “Doesn’t it just round up ghosts? Back home, the leader of the Hunt is Gwyn ap Nudd. He’s a distant relative.”
“The Hunt is different here than in back home in Mother England, child,” the ghost said. “This Hunt rounds up mortals so foolish as to be out on All Hallow’s Eve, and ’tis not kind to them. Oh, no siree!”
“Oh!” Rachel looked around nervously. She leaned toward Gaius. “What time is it?”
“So annoying not to have a cell phone,” murmured Gaius. He tipped his head back slightly and spoke aloud. “Vlad, what time is it?” He paused and then gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s only quarter after ten. Plenty of time.”
Rachel gave her boyfriend an appreciative gaze and then turned back to Percy Cornelius Taylor. Gazing up at the ghostly gentleman, she asked hopefully, “Do you ghosts know anything about the afterworld?” She leaned forward and added almost at a whisper, “Or about angels?”
Percy Cornelius Taylor shook his head gravely. “I cannot speak to you of the other side. Only of those caught in between.”
“What about demons? Do you know anything about what they are up to?” asked Rachel.
“About what?” The ghostly cello player cupped his ear and leaned forward. “I’m sorry. I don’t know that word.”
“I guess not.” Rachel bit her lips. Then, she looked up again. “As to those caught in between, is there hope?”
“There is always hope, Miss Griffin.”
“I feel so sorry for them.” She gestured toward the ghostly entities haunting the mansion. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Most of those caught in between—that I know of—are trapped deep beneath the waves. You would not be able to reach them. And, frankly, little can be done for them now. They have been lost for so long, they don’t even remember where they were headed. All you can do is hope they will eventually notice where they are and decide the time has come to move on.”
Rachel nodded slowly but added, “If there is ever something, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”
Before he could reply, a mass of boys in robes, and two rather attractive young ladies in long, flowing ball gowns came plowing into the mansion. They threw salt and cast cantrips, shouting a bunch of different things. Many of the ghosts and ghouls scurried backward. Unfazed by the salt and sorcery, the young girl with the enormous black eyes and the long tendrils of hair, which spread out about her like kelp, floated towards them. She opened her mouth, revealing a mouthful of pointy, shark-like teeth.
Efrick Ferret shouted, “They’re too powerful! Cheese it!”
They all went piling back out the gaping hole in the porch wall. A moment later, Winifred Powell popped back in. “Sorry about the disturbance. Have a nice Dead Men’s Ball.” She curtsied quickly, turned, and left.
Rachel blinked. “I hope they had fun doing that.”
Then, she began to giggle. The difference between her world—worrying about the demon Morax summoning his master Moloch, or saying the wrong thing and killing her Elf—and their world—jumping a few innocent ghosts for excitement and finding them too terrifying—suddenly seemed terrifically funny.
“Third year in a row,” mused Percy Cornelius Taylor. “I guess it’s become a tradition.”
“You think, after three years, they’d be better prepared,” Gaius drawled, amused.
As she watched the vampire-hunting club flee down the hill toward the river, an idea struck Rachel, a splendid idea.
“Mr. Taylor,” she asked shyly, “may I ask you a question that might be a bit…er…indelicate? I hope you will forgive me. I don’t know much about ghostly etiquette.”
“You may ask. We are not like these others.”
“I have a friend who is very dear. He’s my blood brother.” She held up her arm and showed him her scar. Gaius looked on with interest. “He has done such kind and wonderful things for me, and I have done very little for him. He has his heart set on finding sunken treasure. Is there a ship somewhere you know of that has treasure on it? A ship where he could send his pet dragon to collect the treasure without troubling any ghosts?”
Percy Cornelius Taylor thought for a bit, absently strumming his cello. Gaius said nothing, but he listened intently.
“I know of a wreck that might suit,” said the ghost. “It has a great deal of treasure, and the pirates who plundered it had no fear of death, so none remain. Access to those waters is blocked by ice at the moment. But the way will thaw in the spring. I could come find you when it’s passable again.”
“Sounds perfect!” Rachel clapped her hands.
“If I lead this…er…dragon to this ship, I shall require services in return. Five tasks which, honestly, should not be too much of a burden. Especially for one with the resources of the ship of which I speak. Do you agree?”
“I agree,” Rachel replied, without hesitation. “Though I can only agree for myself. I suspect that Sigfried will agree with me, though. So, you will have the resources of both of us at your disposal.”
She put out her hand to shake. The ghost accepted, and the two of them shook hands, though Rachel could not feel the insubstantial ghost. A pleasant tingle ran through her body.
“Oh…” Rachel moistened her lips. “I should mention…um…I’m not a person who is good at hurting people. If these favors involve harming someone, I don’t know if I can do them. Otherwise, we’re good.”
Percy Cornelius Taylor replied gravely, “I would not ask you to harm anyone, young woman. I need two items returned to the families from which they came. I believe it will help two of my brethren to pass on. One is an engagement ring, and one is a necklace. They rest at the bottom of the sea. I will lead the—ahem, dragon—to them. I shall tell you the names of the people they should be delivered to. I know you will remember.” He smiled at her and gave her two names with exact addresses, which he declared to be current residence of the ghosts’ descendants. Rachel nodded, though she wondered how he knew about her perfect memory. Maybe he had heard her speaking to Old Thom.
“The second two favors require that money, from the treasure I will direct your friend to, to be given to two additional families.” He gave her the addresses of these two families, one in Ireland, one in California.
“The last favor is: a violin was stolen from the London Philharmonic Orchestra. It once belonged to one of us, and we hate the idea that it isn’t with its proper owner. We know who stole it, and his address. Could you please pass this information on to the authorities? The, um, Unwary authorities that is. The thief is not of the World of the Wise.”
Rachel memorized the addresses and faithfully promised that the objects and the money would be delivered when the time came. She also promised to immediately write a letter to the Unwary authorities.
The other band members gathered around them now and bowed to Rachel. Their leader, a young man with brown hair and a pleasant smile spoke up.
“Lady Rachel, in life, I was Wallace Hartley,” said the youthful ghost. “I knew your grandfather. I see his good character has been passed down to his children and his children’s children. You do him proud.”
“Thank you!” Rachel beamed. “He was a great man. I miss him very much.”
Wallace Hartley smiled. “When the day comes that I see him again, I shall tell him.”
“Wait? You knew Grandfather! Are you his friend who used to play ‘I’m Shy, Mary Ellen, I’m Shy?’ The one who died tragically!”
The band leader gave a bright smile. “That I am.”
“He spoke of you,” said Rachel. “I never realized you were the same friend who went down with the Titanic.”
“We had some good times, Blaise and I, hunting phooka and brollachan on the moors, b
etting on horses at Ascot. Some mighty fine bangtails out of Gryphon Park! We went to sea together once and managed, between us, to defeat a kraken that had been terrorizing the shipping lines. Quite a big blighter it was, too!”
“Did you…” Rachel’s voice faltered. “Did you know Myrddin and Vivian and his other children. The ones who were…lost?”
The band leader shook his head gravely. “I did not meet the general until a decade after that sad event. When I knew him, he was a grim man carrying a heavy burden. Though he labored to keep his personal sorrows from interfering with his performance of his duties. However, I have heard that, soon after I perished, a woman he had loved in his youth brought the sunshine of happiness back into his life.”
Rachel blinked. It was hard to imagine her stern grandmother as the source of anyone’s “sunshine of happiness.” She turned to the whole band, curtsying.
“It is an honor to be able to help you,” she said.
“On the contrary,” Hartley spoke on their behalf. “Thank you for your help with our work. It has been a long time, and, sadly, shall be longer still. With the help of people such as yourself, I am confident we shall accomplish our goal.”
The musicians clapped and bowed to her again, and then all but Percy Cornelius Taylor returned to their instruments.
“You and your band mates are extraordinary, Mr. Taylor. I’m very honored to be here,” Rachel said as properly as she was able.
“Thank you for coming.” He beamed. “We get very few visitors, besides that rowdy gaggle of youngsters. And now, my band mates are striking up. I must return to my cello.” Percy Cornelius Taylor bowed.
With that, he rejoined the others. The band began playing again, launching into the Victorian era song, “Asleep in the Deep.”
As Rachel turned around, she came face to face with a body she recognized from her trek into dreamland. As when she had seen it hanging from a noose, it was dressed in Transylvanian traditional garments: black pants, black embroidered vest, and the enormous, stiff pleated sleeves—as if the wearer had stuck his arms into starched, white accordions. Only this time, there was no black velvet bag covering the head.
Rachel looked up and gasped, shocked. She recognized the face of the transparent, shaggy-blond, Adonis who leered down at her.
Remus Starkadder.
All her trepidation, which had lifted while she was speaking with the musicians from the Titanic, came back with a vengeance. She took three panicky steps backwards.
“Gaius!” Rachel fairly shrieked.
Gaius spun around and then froze, going pale. The two young men regarded each other.
“Starkadder.”
“Valiant.”
What was he doing here? Had he come to seek revenge for her paralyzing him during the battle against Dr. Mordeau?
“What happened to you?” she cried. Frissons of terror traveled along her limbs. For the first time that evening, she felt truly frightened. “A-are you…dead?”
Rachel felt strangely disoriented. She clung to Gaius’s arm.
The ghost grew even paler. “I was found guilty of treason for conspiring against my older brother. My father the King hanged my brother Fenris and me in Corvinus Square for all to see.”
“And he made your brothers and sisters go home and watch?” Rachel whispered. She pressed her fingers against her mouth, hardly able to breathe from the horror of it. “Poor Freka!”
No wonder Freka had burst into tears, when Rachel had suggested that any sibling of the Transylvanian princess’s must be a fine person. Rachel flushed with chagrin at the memory. And to think that she and Siggy and the princess had mocked Remus, when they had heard he was to be sent home to his father. They had assumed that any punishment assigned by a boy’s own parent would be light.
How cruel the memory of that mockery now seemed.
“Yes…Freka. That is why I am here,” Remus spoke urgently. He tried to grab Gaius’s arm, but his hands bounced off the other young man’s inside-out garments. Gaius shivered. “I must reach Freka, but I cannot pass the wards of the school. Please! Ask her to come to the docks to speak to me! I waited tonight, hoping, but she did not come.”
When Gaius did not answer, Remus cried, “Please. It is urgent! I beg you.”
“Urgent why?” Gaius asked. “Don’t you have all the time in the world now?”
Remus shook his head. He looked terrified. “Fenris and I—we have been given a brief reprieve. But if Romulus does not forgive us, we will be tortured for all time! We will be dragged down to…”
Caw!
Remus looked around nervously. “I…can’t say too much. But you must tell Freka. She must come to speak with me. Tell her that she must convince Romulus to forgive us!”
“I will,” Rachel said solemnly, her initial terror fading.
She stared up at the dead young man. She recalled how she had felt when he had used black magic to torture the princes, how she had hated him with a cold, icy hatred. As she regarded him now, a frightened shade, the frozen lump inside her thawed.
A warmth flooded through her, a feeling of sorrow and pity.
Remus looked down at her. “You’re the girl who defeated me. In the Summoning Vault.”
Rachel gave a shake of her head. “Gaius defeated you. That was his spell. I just stood in the right place at the right time.”
Gaius put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. He gave Remus a smile that looked suspiciously like bared teeth. “This is Rachel Griffin. My girlfriend.”
The shade of the Transylvanian prince looked her up and down. Rachel found herself awkwardly aware of her inside-out clothing, her painted face, and her three, off-kilter pigtails. He shrugged. “Puny thing, but I suppose she’s pretty enough.”
“Where’s Fenris?” Gaius looked around, but there was no sign of the chestnut-haired young man he had dueled the day Dr. Mordeau attacked. Rachel counted backward from the eldest Starkadder brother and realized that Fenris would have to have been Gaius’s classmate, possibly in his core group, since they were both Thaumaturgy students living in Drake Hall. Gaius must have known the dead boy very well. They might even have been roommates.
Remus shook his head sadly. “He has reverted.”
“Reverted?” asked Gaius.
“To our old form.” Remus paused. “We Starkadders are not lycanthropes, you know. We are anthrolyks.”
Rachel took a moment to parse this out. “You mean you are wolves who turn into men?”
“Exactly.” Remus glanced around nervously. “I must go. I dare not leave Fenris alone for too long.”
“Wait, before you go!” Rachel cried. “I have a question.”
“Yes?”
Remus had grown fainter. Rachel could now clearly see the Willies and specters standing near the wall behind him.
“What does this mean?” Pulling a piece of paper and a pen from her inside out pockets, not an easy feat, she wrote: Darius Northwest átment a hold tükrön, eltûnve mindörökre.
He looked at her strangely. Rachel wondered if he was going to object to her having violated his castle. Or worse, blame her for Beaumont’s demise.
“Roughly translated, it means: Darius Northwest passed through this moon glass, never to return.” he said. “And now I must go. Please. Remember. You promised! Tell Freka to come see me. Before it is too late!”
Chapter Twenty-Six:
The Swan Who Would Be King
Standing on the ruined porch as they prepared to climb onto her steeplechaser to depart, Rachel smiled at Gaius, “That was rather amazing, wasn’t it?”
“Rachel, I suddenly feel like, even with what I am doing, I am not doing enough,” Gaius shook his head. “Those men have been dead for over a century, and they are still trying to help other people. I feel…humbled. Not that I was swelling with pride to begin with.”
Rachel gazed at him adoringly. His reaction seemed much deeper than what she would have expected from a young man his age. She could not imag
ine Siggy or even her brother Peter responding in such a fashion. “I’m sure there’s more you can do. We have a lot of resources between our groups. Maybe the first step should be to decide what help is most needed.”
“If there is anything I can do to help you complete the five tasks, I would like to do it. As a matter of fact…” Gaius turned on his heel and walked back into the haunted mansion.
Watching him, Rachel made a decision. When the time came that Lucky retrieved the treasure from the ship, she was going give a small part of it to Gaius. Sigfried could have the lion’s share, but Gaius would get a portion. She would not to mention it now, she decided.
She would keep it as a surprise.
Rachel ran after Gaius, catching up as he reached the dais where the musicians played. He stopped next to Percy Cornelius Taylor and looked up earnestly, his serious expression at odds with his blue war paint. “Sir, I would like to help you with what you are doing. I do not require treasure or payment. Please let me know what else you need.”
Mr. Taylor said, “The five tasks I asked of Miss Griffin and her friend are the ones I have thought of for now. But given time, I can, I am certain, think of others. I will need to investigate and ponder. May I come and speak with you again?”
Gaius nodded. Rachel gazed at him, her eyes a glitter with admiration.
“Thank you, Mister Valiant,” Percy Cornelius Taylor inclined his head in respect toward Gaius and then toward Rachel. “You and your young lady are both a credit to the living.”
Picking up his bow, he returned to playing his cello.
The musicians struck the opening chords of a waltz. Ghostly couples gathered, taking their places on the floor. Rachel saw sailor ghosts pairing up with Wilis. The ghost of Major Andre had returned. He bowed before Gertji, in her homespun wedding gown. The two of them took their place, waiting for the dance to start.
Rachel slid her hand into Gaius’s. “That was very noble of you. You can definitely help me with the five favors. I don’t know how to write to Unwary authorities. Or how to turn treasure into money. And then there’s searching for Old Thom’s descendants. I could definitely use your help.”
Rachel and the Many-Splendored Dreamland (The Books of Unexpected Enlightenment Book 3) Page 33