by E. G. Foley
No doubt the evil warlocks would like to get their hands on some of the rare grimoires tucked away in the restricted section.
So would Prue.
The rebellious notion had occurred to her (they often did) when she’d first heard the whispers in the darkness around her.
“Lord Badgerton betrayed us to the enemy…”
“…He dug a tunnel and let them in!”
Her brothers must’ve heard the murmured rumors rippling through the crowd as well, because all three shapeshifter triplets began glancing around uneasily to find people everywhere giving them shocked glances and dirty looks.
“What are they looking at us for? We had nothing to do this!” skinny Welton whispered, pushing his spectacles up higher onto his big nose.
“It can’t be true,” huffed Charlie, the second-born, as he gripped the shoulder straps of his knapsack.
Prue had ordered him to carry it for them when the evacuation order had come.
Charlie, of course, had tried to load it up entirely with sweets and snacks, while Welton had tossed in the adventure book he was reading, but Prue gathered more practical supplies and put them in there as well. Honestly! What would the pair of dunces do without her?
Poor Charlie wasn’t very bright, but at least he could be intimidating to people she didn’t like.
Largest and huskiest of the litter, though by no means the leader, he glared back at the onlookers to warn them what they’d get if they kept gawking.
No denying, this was bad.
Prue knew, moreover, that her sharp tongue and Charlie’s fists could only protect the three of them for so long.
Welton began gnawing his lower lip with his bucked teeth the way he always did when he was scared. Which was often. He was, obviously, the runt. “What are we gonna do, sis?”
Prue’s quicker mind was already churning on the problem. To be sure, her animal instincts smelled serious danger to the three of them, though (for once) they’d done nothing wrong.
Charlie might deny that Uncle Boris had done this, but it didn’t sound like much of a stretch to Prue.
She was furious. What an idiot! How could their uncle—who supposedly loved them!—go off like this and ruin their stinking lives? Didn’t it occur to him that his actions would turn their whole family into total outcasts?
Even if Uncle Boris was innocent—which, deep down, Prue rather doubted—if the Elders believed he was a traitor, they’d probably send some Guardians at once to take the skunkies into custody to find out whatever they might know.
Which was zero.
But who was going to believe them now, if their own kinsman, the patriarch of their clan, turned out to be a traitor and a liar?
Besides, people always discriminated against skunks and weasels, ferrets and polecats, wolverines and badgers of all kinds as it already was!
Sometimes the ignorant even mistook them for rodents—ew—which could not be more insulting, thank you very much.
So, with one unfair strike already against them on account of their very natures, plus their own somewhat deserved reputations as…Prue preferred rambunctious…who knew what all they might be subjected to?
Hours of interrogation, probably.
Maybe even torture. Well, no, the Order was too squeamish to torture people.
Not like the Dark Druids.
It made you wonder who would win sometimes, because one side wasn’t afraid to do anything, and the other side was.
“Do you think this might actually be true?” Charlie asked in a low tone.
“He was acting really weird at supper tonight,” Welton said. “Remember how he lost his voice all of a sudden at the table? What on earth was that about?”
“No idea,” Prue replied. “But forget about him. We have to worry about ourselves now. We’re clearly on our own.” She sent a hard-eyed glance around the dark stone basement. “We need to get out of here.”
Charlie furrowed his brow. “But Prue, there’s a battle going on outside.”
“Yes, I know that, genius. Not this instant. I mean as soon as they let us out.”
Her brothers stared at her uncomprehendingly.
Prue fought for patience. “Don’t you get it? Uncle Boris has betrayed the Order! Everybody’s going to hate us now!”
“Uh, don’t they already?” Welton mumbled.
“Maybe you, but not me!” she shot back, refusing to believe it. “At least, not until now. And it’s all our stupid uncle’s fault, so he can go hang for all I care. As for us, we need to get away from Merlin Hall before they send the Guardians to arrest us.”
“What?” Welton gasped so hard that he choked on his own spit.
Charlie’s eyes widened. “Arrest us? But we didn’t do anything!”
“They’re not gonna care!” Prue said angrily. “They need a scapegoat to cover up their own failure to be properly prepared for something like this. Someone’s always got to take the blame, and I don’t see Uncle Boris down here, so that only leaves us!”
Charlie gulped. “M-maybe he’s up there fighting?”
Prue scoffed. “Are you serious? There’s no way. He might be a badger, but he’s fat and out of shape. He’s not going to risk his own life unless he’s got absolutely no choice. He’d be down here pretending to protect us, but he’s not.
“The logical conclusion is that either the Guardians already caught him or he ran away. And that’s exactly what we’re going to do,” she said. “But we’re not leaving empty-handed.”
“What do you mean? Where are we gonna go?” Charlie asked.
“And what about Mother?” Welton whimpered. “Do you think she’s going to get arrested, too?”
“Probably,” Prue said.
“We need to help her!” Charlie cried.
“We can’t.” Prue looked at him matter-of-factly. “Oh, come on, she’s annoying, anyway. All she ever does is nag.”
“But she’s our mother. We can’t just leave her behind.”
“Think! As our mother, the main thing she’d want is for us to be safe. And that means getting far away from here. Especially you, Charlie,” Prue added sweetly. “Everyone always blames you for everything, poor thing. If they’re going to accuse anyone of assisting Uncle Boris, it’ll probably be you.”
His eyes widened. “You think so?”
Prue nodded sincerely. She needed him on her side. But getting her main henchman in line was usually quite easy.
Not even Welton could argue with her logic.
Prue laid a firm hand on each brother’s shoulder, the caring big sis. “Don’t worry, boys, Mother will be fine. Either she’ll tell the Order what she knows and they’ll release her, or if they bully her, she’ll faint and play dead. She’s a hedgehog, remember? She’s an expert at playing the helpless female. They’ll believe her. But on the off chance that she does know something about Uncle Boris’s plan, she’s clever enough to lie her way out of it.”
Welton frowned. “Then…couldn’t we do that, too?”
“Welton, I am not going to stay here and be unpopular! Do you want to be an outcast?” Prue fairly hissed. “Look at how everyone’s staring at us already!”
The boys did.
“You two can do what you want,” Prue informed them, “but I’m getting out of here. I never liked it here, anyway! Everyone’s so full of themselves because of their stupid magical powers. They all think they’re better than us.”
The boys exchanged an uneasy glance, then gave her a chastened look.
“What do you think we should do, then, sis?” Charlie mumbled.
Relieved they’d given in, Prue beckoned them closer, and when all three put their heads together, she whispered her plan…
* * *
A plan was starting to form in Badgerton’s mind, but he still wasn’t sure it would work.
Scared as he was, he had pursed his snout with determination and pressed on down the black corridor, desperate to find a way to save himself.
Cl
early, that meant saving the other Dark Druids, so they, in turn, could save Wyvern.
Then, perhaps, if they all worked together, they might stand a chance of surviving the Dark Master’s wrath.
Though still rather terrified, Badgerton had forced himself to calm down, deciding that the first order of business was to take a stealthy look around to try to get a better picture of what exactly was happening here. A bit of spying was in order.
So he’d begun doing just that.
But he felt very sorry for himself, indeed. Honestly, he was beginning to wonder if he would ever receive the Proteus Power. False promises!
But he brushed off his impatience. The all-shapes potion hardly mattered at the moment. He’d be lucky to get out of this alive, in any form.
Limping on down the jet-black corridor, he winced over his bloodied paws and kept to the side of the hallway. Thank goodness for the darkness!
Feeble wall sconces lit the winding obsidian hallways at regular intervals, but it was easy for an animal the size of a small beagle to hide in the shadows.
Then Badgerton spotted a large, heaving lump in the middle of the floor ahead, heard groaning and gasping, and hesitated.
Another half-troll barbarian had collapsed to the floor in his death throes.
There was no getting around it. Badgerton forced himself forward and scampered past the dying brute.
As he hurried by, it was strange being at eye level for once with one of the hulking Noxu. The creature writhed on the floor, choking for air, all its armor, blades, and clubs of no use against this sort of enemy.
Foaming drool dripped off its tusks.
Ugh, the thing stank! Badgerton grimaced and hobbled on, but as he neared the end of the guest hallway, the situation grew even direr.
A pair of Zolond’s horrifying lizard men approached from the hallway ahead. Badgerton huddled down close to the floor, his pulse hammering.
He held perfectly still, fearing that if they saw him, the reptilians might try to gobble him down for a snack. Even fierce badgers had their limits against upright-walking alligators.
Badgerton didn’t even breathe as the strange creatures prowled by without noticing him, thank the gods.
After they had passed, he realized they were on their way to check the other Dark Druids’ doors, making sure they were securely imprisoned in their rooms.
Badgerton gulped and crept on. It was very easy to get lost in this endless labyrinth of midnight hallways, but he had his tunneling instincts to guide his way. Eventually, he found his way back to the corridor, where he was able to peer into the bridge some distance away.
The busy control room was brighter. He could see the crew bustling around. Judging by the orders he overheard the lieutenant give, he realized they were preparing the Black Fortress for another dizzying jump.
Where to this time? he wondered. Then he heard one of the officers mention Antarctica and could not believe his ears. What on earth? They must be joking.
But there was no sign of humor in the bridge room. No chuckles, not so much as a smile. Only a grim, businesslike quiet.
From his stealthy spot nearby, Badgerton could feel the tension in there, though the crew did their best to work in spite of their obvious terror.
He could not see the whole bridge room, however, so he lifted his head and sniffed the air with his keen animal senses. Aha. His nose told him that Zolond wasn’t in there anymore, but he could smell at least one of the reptilians.
Badgerton crept closer until he spotted the tall, scaly fellow posted by one of the control panels. He eyed the crew sternly, making sure they did their jobs—or else.
The humans smelled frightened of making one wrong move.
Badgerton’s devious mind weighed matters and quickly concluded that the set of buttons and levers the reptilian was guarding must have something to do with the locks on those big metal doors keeping the rebel Dark Druids inside their chambers.
Hmm. A possible option was becoming clear.
When the right moment came, perhaps he could use his small, unassuming size to his advantage. He could sneak onto the bridge, slip past the lizard somehow, and then quickly jump up onto the control panel and start pressing buttons until he set his allies free.
The thought of having to perform such ghastly heroics made him shudder with dread, but Badgerton knew he had no choice.
He wasn’t sure when he should attempt it—he was in no hurry, to be sure. But that was probably his best hope of survival.
He stifled a whimper, but only managed not to cry by thinking of his precious little skunkies. Yes. He wiped away a tear, feeling noble. I must be brave…
For the children!
CHAPTER 9
Forebodings
Jake’s uneasiness grew the longer they waited. The air of fun they had stubbornly manufactured could only last so long. By now, it was whittled down to a nub.
What do we do? he kept wondering. He had brought his friends to the relative safety of his island, where they’d at least have some shelter in the decaying gazebo.
But although he kept his thoughts to himself, he was really starting to worry.
Dani’s attempts to contact Merlin Hall through the little speaker gizmo on her Lightrider training gauntlet continued to fail.
After the first hour passed, Isabelle finally made a brief attempt to reach out telepathically to Janos.
This failed, too.
“Usually, he’s the one who creates the connection, not me,” she said. “But I can try again.”
They discouraged her from doing so. No one wanted her to push herself after she’d already overtaxed her powers so greatly. She gave in without much of an argument, admitting that she was terrified of distracting the vampire anyway. For all they knew, Janos might still be fending off dozens of enemies.
So, they waited.
And waited some more.
Jake had never been terribly good at waiting.
He felt half ready to explode with suspense.
Tick-tock, tick-tock. He counted the moments, burning to know what was going on back at the palace.
Red, meanwhile, continued circling overhead, gliding like a hawk on the currents of air as he kept watch for any sign of danger that might be approaching.
As the first hour crept into the second, Jake grew increasingly restless. As the unspoken leader of the group, he knew they could not stay out here all night.
It was the middle of October, almost cold enough for frost, and his aristocratic cousins were not cut out for a night of homelessness. Nixie had managed to conjure some blankets, but in the morning, they’d need food, and then what? Elysian Springs wasn’t up to the job.
He had to bring them someplace warm, where they’d all be safe.
Unsure where to go at this hour, he continued scanning the gloom of the quaintly faded pleasure grounds and pacing slowly over the weathered wooden floorboards of the ancient gazebo.
The warped planks creaked beneath his feet as he brooded on the question and his own sense of responsibility for his friends’ welfare. His gaze traveled past the three swan boats bobbing gently on the shore and out across the glittering black surface of the man-made lagoon. For a moment, he stared at the distant mass of straggly trees surrounding the water.
I can’t believe the Dark Druids attacked us. Now that it was behind them, he realized he was still a bit in shock. It was strange how emotions from momentous events only seemed to hit you after the fact.
Well, if his friends were experiencing the same sort of odd, delayed reaction, so far, everyone was managing to keep a stiff upper lip about their situation.
Archie and Brian sat on the boulders by the waterside, skipping stones across the lake. Those two seemed all right. But after all of Henry’s training in chivalry, Jake was growing ever more concerned about the three girls.
They huddled around the steps of the ramshackle gazebo, trying to stay warm. Maybe he should’ve allowed them to build a fire. Jake knew he was
right to forbid it, but he still felt bad.
Skinny Nixie looked particularly miserable. Without an ounce of fat on her bones, the petite witch shivered in the cold, wrapped in a blanket and holding Teddy on her lap for warmth.
Isabelle sat leaning her head back against one of the gazebo’s posts, eyes closed. Even dauntless Dani was beginning to look peaked, frightened, and pale.
She kept checking her gauntlet, shaking it like she feared it was broken, and then listening to the little gadget from which they should’ve long since heard Aunt Ramona’s voice crackling out their next instructions.
Or Derek’s voice. Or Aunt Claire’s or Uncle Richard’s or Finnderool’s or even Sir Peter’s…
Unless they were all dead.
Everyone was thinking it, though no one dared say it aloud.
Jake was starting to feel it was imperative that they find out what in the blazes was going on—aye, as quickly as possible.
Because this was bad.
And for Jake, deep down, this silence from the adults had him privately fighting his worst fears. He had already lost his parents to the Dark Druids’ schemes as a baby.
True, the recent news that Jacob and Elizabeth Everton, Lord and Lady Griffon, might still be alive after all this time had restored his faith that maybe, someday, he might find out what it was like to be part of a real family.
But he was a firm cynic…and seeing was believing.
Tonight, the possibility that the evil warlock brotherhood had also destroyed every other adult he had finally let himself care about or trust had him balanced on the very knife edge of rage.
Unthinkable as it was, though, he knew it was possible. Knew what Wyvern was capable of. He had fought the Nephilim lord himself, after all—or, at least, had tried.
The half-demon earl had quickly neutralized any threat he’d tried to pose.
As much as it chagrined him, Jake knew he wouldn’t even be here right now if the towering warlock had really wanted to hurt him.
On the contrary, Wyvern had been pleased by Jake’s fighting spirit, laughing at his efforts like a proud father. The truth was the Nephilim earl could’ve killed him with a wave of his freakish, six-fingered hand if he had wanted to.