“So when I look at Keir, I see a friend. As do Natalie, and Henry, and even Barnabas.” As I said their names I looked at them in turn, and in turn they each got up so that we stood together, a legion of friendship. “We’re all his friends,” I said to the jury, “and we all came to this place out of friendship to try to save him, despite the danger. Just like Travis tried to save his friend. Does that answer your question, Dr. Van Helsing?”
There it was, my little speech, like the closing argument at a trial in the Court of Uncommon Pleas.
I looked up at Keir and saw a sea of emotion washing across his face. I smiled at him and then examined the jurors for the final time. I thought I saw a couple of encouraging nods. Then Mrs. Calabash said, “You’re finished, I hope. Another long speech and I’ll be cutting off Dolp’s ears just for sport.”
She turned around to look at Keir on the wall. “I think we’ve all heard enough. How say the rest of you? Are we ready to make our decision?”
“I am,” said Pili, who was looking at Olivia.
“I’m with her,” said Mr. Jack, who was looking at Pili.
“When’s dinner?” said Dolp, who was looking at his thumb like he had never seen it before.
It was time to stop. That’s one thing the goat incident taught me: stop when it’s time to stop. But something Dr. Van Helsing had said was scratching at my brain. Is it scratching at yours, too?
“I have one more question, if that’s okay with the jury.”
“Go ahead, miss,” said Mr. Jack with a kindly smile.
“Dr. Van Helsing,” I said. “When I asked about a warrant, you said you had no court-issued arrest warrant specifically for Keir. That answer implies that you hold a valid warrant for someone else. Whose arrest warrant do you have?”
The answer would send us all back to the château.
TEA, FINALLY
As dusk fell, Keir McGoogan and I stood side by side before the great iron gate of the Château Laveau.
Keir wore his plaid jacket and blue cap, his green pack slung over one shoulder. He had just announced his presence into the speaker and asked for the gate to be opened so he could come back home. I stood gripping a briefcase I had swiped from my stepfather’s home office. I needed to look like a lawyer, and I thought a briefcase would do the trick.
As the sky darkened, the motor started churning churning and the gate slowly swung wide.
I glanced to the left of the stone arch, where Charlie Frayden, wearing goggles, oversized rubber boots, and yellow rubber gloves, gripped a giant cable cutter. Doug Frayden stood beside Charlie, leaning on a shovel. He had dug up the wire feeding power to the gate as Keir and I stood and waited. At the moment the gate was opened to its widest, Charlie squeezed the handles of the cable cutter.
A bang and a burst of sparks sent Charlie sprawling backward as the moving gate died. The cutter was still in his hands, its blackened and twisted blades pointing now at the sky. Charlie’s hair stood on end. And was that smoke coming from his boots?
Still on the ground, Charlie smiled and waved to let us know he was okay.
Keir gave him a nod, and then Keir and I passed through the frozen gate and began our long walk up the drive. Against the darkening sky we could see the kettle of vultures circling over us as we started climbing the hill. In the distance the dogs howled.
When we reached the trees, I looked behind and saw Henry hurriedly pushing a wheelbarrow through the open gate. Henry was followed by Young-Mee and Natalie, the two looking quite stylish in yellow raincoats and rain hats as they lugged heavy buckets. In the wheelbarrow was the carcass of a deer for the birds. In the buckets were livers and hearts bought from a butcher shop for the dogs. Everything had been doused with animal tranquilizer.
When we emerged into the open area before the mansion, the sky was clear. I wondered what was currently filling the sweet dreams of the turkey vultures. Bright skies? Dead chipmunks? Cranberry sauce?
Egon was waiting for us at the red front door. “Welcome back to the château, Keir McGoogan,” he said in that high-pitched voice. “I’ve made up a spot for you in the attic.”
“I won’t be staying in that cursed attic,” said Keir.
“You said you were coming home.”
“With conditions,” said Keir. “That’s why I brought the lawyer. We’ll be hammering out my future with the countess.”
“The countess is unavailable for hammering.”
“Then some other time,” I said. “Let’s go, Keir. I told you this was a waste.”
“Don’t go,” said Egon. “What about your tea, Elizabeth Webster?”
“Tea?”
“We know that Elizabeth Webster loves her tea. And freshly baked biscuits.”
“Biscuits?”
“He means cookies,” said Keir.
“Cookies?”
“Please stay for tea and biscuits,” said Egon. “And I’ll see if the countess can be roused.”
“Well, since there’s tea,” I said.
As Egon waited, bent over in that bow of his, Keir and I entered the house. Egon closed the door behind us and turned the lock with the telltale snap-click. “This way, please,” he said as he began to lead us down the center hallway.
“I have to tell you, Egon,” said Keir, “it is so good to be back!” He said the last part with such enthusiasm that his voice masked the snap-click of me turning the lock open again.
“We’re glad to have you back, too, Keir McGoogan,” said Egon as he kept walking. “We missed you somewhat.” He turned his head stiffly to catch me hurrying to Keir’s side. “And maybe we’ll find room for your lawyer, too.”
The checkerboard floor. The coffin-shaped birdcages where, beneath the covers, I could hear the winged hunters shifting and stirring. The great portraits of the Countess Laveau dressed all in black, with the fierce Miss Myerscough always standing behind her.
“Miss Myerscough is waiting for you both in the sitting room,” said Egon as he led us beneath the soaring staircase. “When she heard Keir McGoogan had returned, she couldn’t wait to greet him.”
“Did she bring the chains with her?” said Keir.
“Only her joy,” said Egon, in a voice as joyful as rock. “I’ll be bringing the chains.”
Miss Myerscough was standing before the fireplace. Her hands were clasped tightly, her braid of hair lay on her shoulder like a dead snake, her smile was dangerous. We sat on the couch in front of her.
“It is so lovely to see you again, Keir,” said Miss Myerscough. “And you, too, I suppose, little Elizabeth.”
“We’ve come to discuss the terms of my client’s return to this house,” I said.
“Terms, terms, terms,” she said. “What care I about terms? All I know is one of my children has come home.”
“I’m coming back on my own terms or not at all,” said Keir.
“Of course you’re coming back,” said Miss Myerscough. “Whatever else could you do? The hunger grows, doesn’t it, my dear? It gnaws at the bones. And we can’t survive on little animals forever, can we? How long would it be before you inflamed the mob? But you are always safe in the château.”
“The first term you must agree to,” I said, playing my role as lawyer in our little play, “is that Keir will be able to come and go from this house as he pleases.”
“Oh no,” said Miss Myerscough, shaking her head. “That can’t be allowed. Safety demands that we have control over our wards, both for their sakes and for yours.”
“And there will be no more chains or sessions in the attic,” I said.
“I don’t see why not,” said Miss Myerscough. “Rules are rules, and they must be obeyed or there will be consequences. Anything else is anarchy. You are not an anarchist, are you?”
“And Keir will no longer do your bidding against the other members of this household,” I said.
“Of course he will,” said Miss Myerscough. “We all must do our share. If you knew how hard I work, day and night, night and d
ay, to keep this house of mercy running, you would be ashamed of your efforts to allow Keir to shirk his duties.”
“Those are the terms,” I said. “I have an agreement in my briefcase for the countess to sign so that the settlement can be approved by the Court of Uncommon Pleas.”
“Have you not heard me, girl?” said Miss Myerscough. “There will be no terms!”
An instant later she was back to the calm and smiling Miss Myerscough. “Oh, look, Egon has come with the tea.”
Egon entered with a silver tray covered by the large silver dome. You remember what was squirming beneath the lid last time I visited, don’t you? As he placed the tray on the table in front of the couch, I was braced for mayhem.
But the only thing escaping when he yanked up the silver dome was steam from the blue ceramic teapot. Along with the pot were three cups on saucers, a bowl of sugar, a pitcher of milk, dainty silver spoons, and, yes, cookies. Finally!
Miss Myerscough sat down in a chair beside the table and asked, “How do you take your tea, Ms. Webster? Do you prefer arsenic or strychnine?”
“Sugar?” I said.
“Pity.”
I watched as she lifted the pot and poured, so focused on what she might be adding to my cup that I didn’t notice the goings-on in the hall.
“Egon,” said Miss Myerscough without looking up, “go check on the birds.”
“As you wish,” said Egon, before leaving the sitting room.
It was then that I heard the cawing and shuffling, as if some great disturbance had just walked through the front door. And while you know what that disturbance was, Miss Myerscough simply continued pouring and serving the tea, unconcerned about the fuss, until Egon rushed back into the sitting room.
“It’s him!” said Egon in his high-pitched warble.
“Who?” said Miss Myerscough. “Collect yourself, Egon. Calm down and speak up.”
“It’s Van Helsing!”
She suddenly stood, dropping the teapot so that it smashed into bits. Hot tea washed across the tray as she turned to me. “What have you done, child?”
“He has a warrant for your arrest,” I said as calmly as I could. “He has promised you a fair trial.”
“A fair trial, you say? There will be no fair trial. He will kill us all!”
“He’s only coming for you,” said Keir. “The rest will be left alone. He promised.”
“The only thing he promises is death!” she shouted, hatred spilling out her suddenly red eyes like the tea spilling off the tray, before she spun into a great fat bat and flew out of the room.
We were so shocked by the whole scene that we sat and watched it all in silence, until Keir said, “She didn’t take it so well.”
“And what about our tea?” I said. “Why is it so hard to get a cup of tea in this place?”
THE LIBRARY
As soon as Keir ran for the open door of the sitting room, I grabbed the briefcase and followed. When we reached the doorway, we slowly stuck our heads through the gap.
Van Helsing and his crew were in a tight defensive circle as hawks and ravens, falcons and owls swerved and swooped above them. Mrs. Calabash pointed her sword, Dolp swung his shotgun loaded with silver pellets, and Mr. Jack cocked his pistols loaded with silver balls. Waving two flaming torches, with a trail of black smoke rising from each, were Pili and Olivia, shoulder to shoulder. Van Helsing himself held the two fancy knives that were used to kill Count Dracula over a hundred years ago.
And outside the circle stood Barnabas with his hands behind his back, calmly watching it all.
After the jury had voted to free Keir—a win for moi, how surprising is that?—Van Helsing showed us the arrest warrant for Miss Myerscough, issued by the Court of Uncommon Pleas for the District of Great Britain. If Keir helped him get inside, Van Helsing promised to capture, not kill, Miss Myerscough and ensure she had a fair trial in the court that had sat for centuries in the upper reaches of the Tower of London. Olivia had joined his crew to once again stand with the great friend of her childhood. And Barnabas was there as a noncombatant to make sure Van Helsing kept his word.
As Van Helsing and his crew shuffled in formation toward one arm of the stairway, Egon pulled off the cover of a coffin-shaped cage and opened the cage’s door. The condor stuck its head out of the opening.
The great bird looked left, looked right, and then flapped itself free before landing heavily on top of its cage. It stared at us as it preened its wings, like a costumed supervillain about to go into battle. Then it jumped off its cage and circled just under the high ceiling. It grunted once, whipping the swarm into a frenzy, before it attacked.
“Follow me!” shouted Keir over the hiss and caw, the shouts and the gunfire. He hustled across the hallway to a black door and pulled it open. I sprinted after him and found myself at the foot of a dark staircase that Keir was already climbing. I climbed quickly behind him. As the two of us approached the door at the top, we slowed down, sneaking up the final steps together.
Beyond was a commotion of sorts, something loud, fierce, and definitely unhealthy.
“Wait here while I check it out,” whispered Keir. He opened the door, crept through, and closed it behind him.
The seconds it took for him to come back felt like hours, like days. And when he did return, shutting the door quietly behind him, his forehead was creased with worry.
“The fight made its way upstairs,” he whispered. “Miss Myerscough’s and Van Helsing’s crews are battling to the right. The countess will be there, too. Avoid that side like the plague. Trust me, Elizabeth, the countess would snatch your heart and feed it to her birds before you knew something was missing.”
“She certainly has the nails for it,” I said.
“The countess’s library is down the hall to the left. Look for the word Private on the door.”
“You’re not coming with me?” I said, panic turning my voice into a squeak.
“It’s gone bad,” he said. “I need to help. Miss Myerscough convinced the rest of those she saved with her bite to join the battle. She has them believing Van Helsing is after them, too. But they might listen to me. After your little speech, I don’t have any choice. They’re sort of friends, too, I suppose.”
“So it’s my fault.”
For a moment his sly smile returned. “Don’t you know, it’s all your fault, Elizabeth. Find the contract. I’ll come when I can. If you find it before I show, you know what to do.”
“But I don’t,” I said. “See, that’s the thing. I don’t know what to do.”
“Grab it and run,” he said.
And with that, he was gone. I couldn’t decide if I was impressed with what Keir was doing to help the others, or foot-stomping angry that he was leaving me alone.
I was frozen for a moment, and then, before I realized it, I was through the door and racing down the hallway to the left with the clatter of the fight behind me. The bloodred wallpaper was flickering with the reflection of firelight. The old dead people in the paintings were staring down at me like I was a scurrying cockroach with a briefcase. As I ran, I glanced behind me.
Birds flying, swords swinging, walls burning.
When the hallway turned to the left, I leaped and landed right in front of a door with the word PRIVATE printed on a plaque. Somewhere inside the library might be the contract that was the key to Keir’s freedom. I hesitated a moment and took a deep breath—I didn’t know legal discovery could be so terrifying—and then I turned the knob.
The air inside the room felt somehow alive, like it was breathing and waiting, waiting and breathing, hungry, angry, scratching at time itself. My hand shook as it bounced around the wall beside the door, looking for the light switch.
Click.
Light flooded the large room and my heart seized.
It wasn’t the old books that caused my little heart attack, or the wooden file cabinet where old contracts might be kept, or the desk on top of which a rodent with gorgeous brown fur was p
awing at the floor of its cage.
No, it was the woman sitting in the winged chair facing the door, her chin high, her black suit buttoned tight, a paisley scarf around her throat, holding in her hand a large piece of vellum covered with red writing.
“How unsurprising to see you again, Elizabeth,” said the Countess Laveau. “I assume you’ve come for this.”
THE COUNTESS
Was I scared? Terrified, actually. The image of the Countess Laveau reaching her long-nailed fingers into my chest and pulling out my beating heart remained thumbtacked to my brain. But I was there to save Keir, so instead of running, I dropped into the chair across from her, holding the briefcase as a shield.
“I would ask if you wanted tea,” said the countess, “but I believe the servants are all otherwise occupied.”
No surprise there, right? I mean, instead of Château Laveau they should have called this heap of stone the House of No Tea. I gestured to the document in her hand. “Is that the contract you said was destroyed in a fire?”
“As a matter of fact.”
“So you lied in court.”
“I was… mistaken. But knowing how important the document was to Keir, I took another look. And voilà. Here it is.”
“Voilà?” I said. It’s pronounced vwahlah, in case you’re interested, accent on the lah, and according to the dictionary every time you say it you have to pretend you just pulled a rabbit out of some lady’s pocketbook. “Is that what you’ll say after you feed the contract to the rat in the fur coat? Voilà?”
She leaned toward the cage and ruffled the animal’s neck with one of her nails. The rodent showed its sharp little teeth.
“Minks will eat anything,” said the countess, “even vellum. But no, Elizabeth, I am not going to destroy Keir’s contract. Instead, I’m going to give it to you.”
“Just like that?”
Elizabeth Webster and the Portal of Doom Page 19