by M. E. Castle
“Raa!” Gabe said in frustration. “Wan snacksta-peez!”
Kyle frowned. That last word had sounded suspiciously like snacksterpiece. Had his brother discovered his secret dessert stash? Mom always said that Gabe looked up to him … Kyle wondered if he’d accidentally taught his little brother unintended lessons about sugar intake.
“We’ll discuss nutrition later,” he said apologetically to Gabe. “Right now, we don’t need you any more hyper than … wait a minute.” Something was sticking out of Gross Gabe’s mouth, and it wasn’t a sweet skull. It was a wadded-up piece of paper.
Kyle gritted his teeth, reaching for it. He grabbed the paper with the tiniest parts of his fingers possible. It felt like picking something out of a lion’s teeth. A really extra-slobbery lion. The ink was running, but he could just make out the words prince of skulls.
“It’s the poem from the book!” Kyle yelled.
“You know what that m-means…,” Halley spluttered.
“YES,” Kyle said.
Then he thought about it. “Wait, no. What does it mean? That my brother finally found something he can’t destroy with his mouth? That the Narrator cast an anti-baby spell on the poem?”
“No,” Halley said. “It means there might be a clue in the poem to tell us how to get home!” She quickly held it over the candle until it dried enough for her to open it and read again:
Listen! A prince of skulls cries in the dark—
Beware, for none see the ghostly mark.
To read or not to read, that is the question,
But first off, you must end the prince’s oppression.
Then flip the final page and reach “The End”
And soon enough, you will be home again.
“I’m pretty sure the bit in the first line, ‘prince of skulls,’ is about him,” Halley said, pointing to Hamlet. “The next line is about a ghostly mark … which must be about Hamlet’s ghost. Or whatever it really is.”
“Like, the ghost is named Mark?” Kyle said.
“I don’t think so,” Halley said, and Kyle could see her fighting not to roll her eyes. “Probably it means ‘mark’ like writing, like a message or signature. Though with all the weird stuff going on, who knows?”
Kyle squinted. “It also says ‘you must end the prince’s oppression.’ I don’t think we can just find the book and leave. We have to help Hamlet before we read the end.”
Halley sighed. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re probably right.”
“So,” Hamlet said slowly and carefully, “you’ll help me?”
“Yes,” Halley groaned. “I guess we have no choice. What’s first?”
“First,” Hamlet said, “you should put on dry clothes before you two get pneumonia.”
“Noomona!” Gross Gabe said, reaching for another skull. Kyle grabbed it off the floor and Gabe glowered at him.
“I’ve got some spare stuff in here,” Hamlet said. “Follow me.”
He led them past a few shelves to a small back room, where he opened up a big trunk and started tossing out a variety of shirts, vests, and tights. Kyle held up the tights and stared at them. “These are for Halley, I guess.”
“Nope,” Hamlet said. “Those are for you! Girls wear long dresses. Only peasants and workers wear pants. If you want to blend in around the castle, you need these.”
Halley laughed as Kyle shimmied into the tights. He knew now why they were called tights. They were tighter than a Gross Gabe welcome-home hug. He didn’t understand why superheroes wore them. He could hardly breathe, much less stop a gang of reptilian men from robbing a bank.
When he was done adding a puffy shirt and vest, he wrapped his brother in a dry cloak.
“So,” said Halley, an ice-cream-cone-shaped hat stuck on her head, “where do you, er, find a ghost?”
“Where there are dead people, I guess,” Kyle said. “Hamlet, is there a graveyard nearby?”
“Yes, and that was the first place I saw the ghost,” Hamlet said. “Come on.” He picked up a big shovel. “We can’t get caught,” he said, hefting the shovel. “I’m going to pretend I’m a grave digger. Halley’s hat should help her go unnoticed. And as for you…” Hamlet held out a spear.
Kyle’s heart leaped with excitement. “Oh man!” he said. “Let me test out the spear!”
“Hold on,” said Hamlet. “This thing’s sharp, you know, and made for somebody a lot bigger. Here”—he handed a metal knight’s helmet to Kyle—“you look like a guard now.”
“YES!” Kyle said, dropping the helmet onto his head. “I AM INVINCIBLE!” He triumphantly hoisted the spear into the air. It was much heavier than expected, and he immediately dropped it …
… onto his own head.
The echo of the spear smacking against the helmet rang in his ears and threw him off balance. He crashed to the floor, which only made it ring louder. Hmm, he’d have to take noise into account next time he drew a helmet for Mal or Cal.
Hamlet helped him to his feet, and Kyle took the spear in a shaking hand.
The helmet was made for a big man, and Kyle wasn’t even particularly big for a boy. It came down too far over his eyes and ears. He could barely see or hear.
As they walked, Hamlet did his best to guide him by looking back over his shoulder at Kyle and giving directions.
“Left,” Hamlet said. “Wait—go right! Right!”
Kyle clattered into a wall to his left, stumbled, and went right.
“Thanks a lot,” he grumbled.
“Sorry,” Hamlet said. “Duck.”
“Where?” Kyle said. The helmet smacked into something and rang like a bell. “Oh, duck.” He ducked under the wall and kept going, more slowly this time.
“Door,” he barely heard Hamlet say a minute later. He stopped as Hamlet reached past him to open a door.
At last, Kyle saw grass beneath his feet. He felt like he was finally getting the hang of walking with the helmet on—when … thud!
“Uh-oh,” Halley said.
Kyle pulled the helmet off his head to see what he’d hit.
And saw a wagon full of manure and chicken bones rolling down the hill away from them …
Oops.
Kyle followed the wagon’s path with his eyes. With horror, he saw that it was going to collide with a tall, broad man standing at the bottom with a number of guards.
“Oh no,” Hamlet said. “Oh no oh no oh no oh no!” He held the blade of the shovel up in front of his face to hide.
The tall man heard the cart just in time to turn around and watch it hit a rock, flip on its side, and dump its entire contents onto him and his guards.
Dun dun baaa!
“Really?” Halley said into the air. “That’s the worst narrating I’ve ever heard.”
Sorry, it’s all I got.
“I hope that wasn’t someone important,” Kyle said nervously, through gritted teeth.
“Oh, um…,” Hamlet said. “Just my uncle Claudius. The king.”
Kyle had just covered the king in manure.
CHAPTER EIGHT
OF ACCORDIONS AND KINGS
The king’s long, slow march up the hill seemed to last forever. Every step shot a puff of dust into the air like a tiny meteor impact. They could hear his teeth grinding from twenty feet away. Every move shook little clumps of horse manure off him, rolling down his royal cloak and pattering around his feet.
Hamlet’s knees shook. He pulled his hat as far down over his head as he could. Then he scooped up some dirt from the ground and rubbed it on his face until he looked like a grave digger who’d broken his shovel and had to finish with his teeth.
“Mmm urt!” Gross Gabe said, copying the prince and smashing a clump of grass into his forehead.
King Claudius pulled a wishbone out of his hair, looked down at it, and crushed it to a hundred tiny bits in his hand. He was a huge man—his dark red robes could’ve made a tent, and his nose looked like it could plow a ten-acre field.
Thanks to Kyle’s fumbling, the king smelled like a ten-acre field. One growing a fresh crop of outhouses.
“I once had a man’s head for sneezing on my green-bean casserole,” he said in a half hiss through his teeth. His hands were curled into tight, twitchy fists. “Who are you, and why should I not use your skulls for flowerpots in my delightful balcony garden?”
Kyle wished he could put his helmet back on and disappear into it. Instead his shaking hand let it thud to the ground.
“We’re, um, from far away,” Kyle said. “Uh, wagons are different where we come from. They’re … more stable.”
“And why were you touching one of my wagons to begin with?” Claudius asked, one eyebrow arching like a dark, fuzzy caterpillar. “Do you know the penalty for unlawful wagon-touching in this kingdom?” He finally let loose and screamed, “DO YOU?”
“Well,” Kyle said, “well, um, we don’t, but the wagon was—was…”
“S-s-s-scenery!” Halley chimed in, her teeth chattering worse than they had been in the freezing moat. “We’re t-t-traveling performers, you see. W-we were r-rehearsing.”
“Hursin!” Gross Gabe yelled.
“Yes, right,” Kyle said. “We came, er … here to perform a play for … for you! Your Highness … ness.”
“Hmph,” Claudius said, fishing a drumstick bone from his robes. He dropped it to his feet and squashed it into the ground with his heel. “Plays are boring. My parents used to drag my brother and me to them. He loved them, the stuck-up little bookworm. All that fancy language and those silly gestures.”
King Claudius was a very harsh theater critic. The last theater company that came through got buried up to their necks in sand next to a colony of fire ants before being banished from Denmark. The only thing Claudius cared about was Claudius.
“Yes, that’s it!” Halley said. “This play is all about you! You and all of the amazing stuff you’ve done!”
“Yeah,” Kyle said. “The true story of the great King Claudius! Our troupe travels to many countries around the globe, and people far and wide will know of your greatness!”
“Reeeeeally?” Claudius said, revealing rows of chipped, crooked teeth. “That may be a little different, then. I’ve accomplished so much in my short reign. Making it illegal to brew tea on Tuesday. Making it mandatory for boiled stale radish to be included in every dinner. Taxing the use of the name Gary.”
“Of course we’ll be sure to include all of those,” Halley said.
“Excellent,” Claudius said. Kyle’s trembling began to subside. Claudius cocked his head. “But why is this young grave-digging apprentice with you? Surely he is no actor.”
Hamlet stayed still, not daring to budge from behind Halley, the shovel, or his hat.
“We’re doing as much research as we can on your kingliness,” Halley said, on a roll. “Including seeing the tombstones of everyone you’ve executed for their various terrible crimes.” Kyle really didn’t want to admit it, but Halley was in great form. He had to give her that, at least—she was helping save them from a horrible death.
“Ah, I hadn’t thought of that!” Claudius said. “What a lovely idea. Be sure to look at Martin Anderssen’s. I had his melon lopped off for daring to insult the accordion in my presence. I wanted to spit him on a pike, but my advisers suggested I reserve that for more serious crimes. As if there were such a thing! Next time I’ll stick the offender myself. Just like this!”
Claudius yanked the spear from Kyle’s hand and began to demonstrate, hopping around and stabbing the air.
Kyle’s stomach tied up into knots. The king may have been more nuts than a family of squirrels in a pecan tree, but he could fight.
“Shineeey shineeeeey!”
Kyle had been so focused on the spear that he didn’t see Gross Gabe crawl toward King Claudius until he was right under the spear tip.
“Look out!” Kyle cried.
His yell startled the king, who did a funny half leap to avoid tripping over the tiny warrior. Claudius tumbled to the ground … and so did his crown.
And his hair.
Kyle, Halley, and Hamlet were as still as stone, staring bug-eyed at the king’s naked head. He would have looked fine bald, except his head was covered in weird bumps and grooves. It looked like the surface of the moon.
Claudius’s expression was totally blank, but Kyle imagined lava rumbling and boiling behind his eyes. The king’s eyes went from Kyle to Halley to Gross Gabe—sizing each of them up for the chopping block. Even the royal guards were speechless and stood frozen with fear.
“Ba!”
Kyle jumped at the sound that erupted from King Claudius’s mouth.
“Ba-ha ba-ha BA!”
At first Kyle thought Claudius was trying to impersonate a sheep, but then he realized the king was laughing.
“This child is a born jester!” he got out between bas. “Brilliant! BA! You must have him perform, BA! Before your play! BA-HA BA-HA!”
“He’s not really part of our act—” Halley’s voice closed into a tiny squeak as the king’s eyes narrowed to slits.
“I’m afraid that he must be in the play,” Claudius said coolly, no longer baaing. “Actually, I’m not afraid. He will be part of the act—or else.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “Do I need to remind you what else means in my kingdom?”
Kyle and Halley shook their heads very quickly.
“Good.” Taking his crown—and wig—back, he shoved them onto his head and swept away, guards in tow.
“I think I just saw my life flash before my eyes,” Kyle said. “It was … really boring.”
“Be thankful you’ll get to add more to it,” Hamlet said, finally emerging from behind Halley and lowering his shovel. “That was very nearly the end.”
“What a loathsome man!” Halley said.
Halley said the weirdest things sometimes. “I don’t think he’s made of bread,” Kyle said.
“Not loaf-some, loathsome,” Halley clarified. “Totally unlikable!”
Kyle scooped his brother up. His face was still covered in dirt and grass stains, and he was chewing on an acorn.
“I’m not sure if I should yell at you or thank you,” Kyle said.
“Yellank!” Gabe said.
“Sounds about right.”
“Okay, let’s get to the graveyard and find the ghost,” Halley said, “before anything else goes wrong.”
Remember what the king said. There’s a lot of “else” around here.
“Yeah, thanks,” Kyle said, shaking his head.
Always glad to help a character in need.
CHAPTER NINE
WALK LIKE A GHOST!
The oldest tombstones were so worn down, you couldn’t read the names on them. They looked like crumbling teeth, sticking weakly out of the dirt. In the very middle of the graveyard were several huge stone crypts, with statues standing guard above them.
“Who’s in there?” Kyle asked, pointing at the crypts.
“The biggest one’s for the royal family,” Hamlet said quietly. “My dad’s buried there. And his parents, and their parents, for hundreds of years. The other ones are for dukes and barons and people like that.”
He sniffed the air. “You smell that?”
“Yeah,” Kyle said, crinkling his nose. “It’s the same as the castle. Not as strong, though.”
“So the ghost is causing the smell,” Hamlet said confidently. He paused. “I think.”
“How do you find a ghost?” Kyle asked.
“Maybe we have to call to it.” Hamlet cleared his throat. “Um … Ghost? Are you here? Would you like to have a chat?”
“I think there’s more to it than that,” Halley said. “We need a ritual of some kind. Do you know any magical incantations?”
“Boodle doodle dee!” said Gross Gabe, wriggling in Kyle’s arms.
“His guess is as good as mine,” Hamlet said.
“Well, we have to do something,” Kyle said. “This place gives me the creep
s.”
“There’s one other thing I can think of…,” Halley said. “What if we pretend to be ghosts? Make it feel more comfortable, so it comes out to talk.”
“I thought being a ghost was all about haunting live people,” Kyle said.
“I still don’t think ghosts exist,” Halley said. “But if I were a ghost, I’d get tired of haunting people and would want to spend time with other ghosts.”
“Absolutely,” Hamlet said. “This graveyard has been here for centuries. There are many great Danes buried here. That is, Danish people, not dogs. They must have so much knowledge and history to share with each other.”
“Okay.” Kyle sighed and set his brother on the grass. “How do we start?”
“Can you make spooky noises, Gabey Wabey?” Halley said, bending down to be at eye level with him. “Wooooooo,” she said, waggling her fingers. “Wooooo. You try it now.”
Gabe studied her and then copied her finger waving, although it looked more like he was playing an invisible piano than pretending to be scary.
“Woooooooo!” he shrieked delightedly.
Halley dropped into a crouch, raised her arms over her head, and held them loosely so they looked like they were floating. She took slow, quiet steps.
“Woooo,” she moaned. “I am doooomed to walk the eaaaaarth.”
Kyle sighed again, thankful that the only witnesses were dead people. He followed Halley, trying to act like he was swimming through the air.
“Ooo,” he said. “I, um, used to be alive, but now I’m noooot.…”
Hamlet got up onto a larger tombstone, swaying back and forth like he was hovering over it.
“See where I lie burieeeed,” he said. “I wish they’d used a higher-quality topsooooiiil.…”
“I feel really dumb,” Kyle said.
“Woooooo!” Gross Gabe laughed.
“Shhh!” Halley said. “Focus on being spooky!”
Kyle focused on not tripping himself.
“Woooookay, this is stupid,” he said, slightly out of breath, although Gabe seemed to be just fine. Kyle didn’t know if he’d inhaled even once.