by R K Dreaming
“Unless what?” said Nan.
“Nah, it was a crazy thought.”
“Tell me,” Nan insisted.
“Unless it was Octavia all along, wanting to sabotage your pageant so that her Ice Cream Quiz would be best!”
The two girls stared at each other. And then they both shook their heads at the same time and chuckled weakly.
“It can’t be her,” said Nan firmly. “This shows we’re just too tired.”
“I told you it was a crazy thought,” said Percy.
Nan yawned widely. “I have to get home,” she said. “Mum said I couldn’t stay long. I have to get in to school early tomorrow to run through all the safety checks and stage setup again.”
“Your mum doesn’t like me very much, does she?” said Percy. This thought made her sad. Mrs Gooding had used to like her well enough when she had been small.
“She’s just a bit worried that, er, that…”
“That I’ve gone off my rocker,” said Percy. “She thinks I’m mad for spouting all that stuff about a murder.”
Nan flushed. “She’ll get over it,” she said. “She wants to like you really. It’s just that she hasn’t really seen you in years and everyone… everyone… You know,” she trailed off.
“Everyone is talking about how odd and irresponsible and awful I am,” Percy finished. “Your mum thinks I’m a bad influence on you.”
Nan side-eyed Percy. “Well, aren’t you?” she said with a small smile.
Percy threw a cushion at her. “Whatever, Cherub-on-my-shoulder. You’re supposed to be incorruptible. You can tell your mum that you’re curing me of my dastardly ways.”
“Ha! I’ve tried long enough., If it were possible, you’d be cured by now.”
Percy insisted that she would walk Nan home, but Nan insisted that someone might try to cosh Percy over the head again on her way back on her own.
“I’ll be ready for them this time,” said Percy, narrow-eyed.
“It’s not worth it.”
In the end Nan agreed to call her mum for a lift, since Percy was worried about letting Nan walk home alone.
Mrs Gooding did not come inside the house. She gave Percy a tight-lipped smile from inside the car and seemed relieved to drive off with her daughter safely back in her custody.
The next day at lunchbreak, Percy finally had a flash of inspiration and hurried to find Nan, who was already on stage working. She was distractedly eating her sandwich while checking off tasks from a long list on a clipboard.
Percy took her aside and said, “We should speak to Nilgun. Someone must have given her a tiny amount of the Draught of Doom right? Just enough to cause all that bad luck?”
“And give themselves a clear run to the win,” said Nan angrily.
“Or someone who wanted to give one of the other contestants the best chance of winning. Or we still think Judge Alice might have done it right? Maybe Nilgun upset her somehow.”
“Maybe she just hates all frontrunner contestants,” said Nan darkly, “like that girl who won the TV dating show instead of her. Bet she loved it when Nilgun’s hair caught on fire!” she added bitterly.
“Either way,” said Percy, “Nilgun might know something without knowing she knows it.”
Percy and Nan went to find Nilgun in the dining hall. They cornered her before she could wheel herself over to the table she usually shared with her friends.
“We need a private word,” said Percy.
Nilgun did not look happy about being cornered, and she frowned at Percy in particular. She glanced anxiously over at her friends who were looking equally anxiously over at Nilgun, as if they planned on coming to rescue her from Percy at any moment.
“Relax,” said Percy. “We’re not going to abduct you or anything.”
Nilgun waved reassuringly at her friends.
“How are you doing, Nilgun?” said Nan. “How’s the leg?”
“Itchy,” said Nilgun with a grimace. “I can’t wait until this cast comes off. I hate it. And I read online that breaking a leg at our age might stunt its growth and make it shorter than the other!” She looked horrified at this thought.
“At least you’re alive,” said Percy. “Unlike Judge Emma.”
“Percy!” hissed Nan, shushing her for being so callous.
“What? It’s true. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”
Nilgun scowled at Percy. “If you’ve come here to talk about your crackpot murder theory then I’m not interested.”
“Just hear us out,” pleaded Nan.
She glared at Percy who was pacing to and fro in front of Nilgun in an almost menacing manner.
Percy forced herself to take a seat opposite Nilgun, though sitting was the last thing she felt like doing.
She was filled with a blazing impatience. The day was running out. Nan and the final contestants had been given the afternoon off lessons so that they could sort out their hair and makeup and practice their talents and all of those things. And while they were doing them, while they were potentially mingling with a murderer, Percy was going to be stuck in Double Math.
What if someone had more of that Draught of Doom and did something with it during the pre-show preparations? Percy was the only one who might be able to spot it, but she would not be around to keep an eye on things.
And she didn’t trust Lucifer one bit either. She was worried he might decide to go along to the preparations to interfere. And what if he saw Bella there and forgot the promise he had made to Percy?
What if he decided not to wait?
Lucifer had never been very good at resisting temptations. Patience was for saints, he had always said. Gluttony was for Lords of Hell, and the sooner the better.
“Look, Nilgun,” Percy said in what she hoped was a reasonable tone of voice. “I know that you and everyone else think I’m an oddball, a mosshead, a crackpot loser. I don’t even care.”
Nilgun had the grace to flush a little at this.
Percy continued, “But just imagine that I’m not for a minute. Just imagine that I have my reasons for saying what I said about murder. Just imagine that someone else gets hurt in this final—”
“What happened to me was just bad luck!” said Nilgun.
Percy had to bite her lip to stop from telling Nilgun that she didn’t even know the half of it. And Nan was shooting Percy a very significant look that told her to tread carefully.
Nilgun was a Humble, and Percy could not tell her about the Draught of Doom. Even if she did, Nilgun really would think that Percy was off her rocker. Percy was going to have to find some way of communicating it without mentioning magic.
“Imagine someone else gets that same terrible so-called bad luck as you today in the final,” she said. “Maybe even one of your friends. And you could have done something to stop it.”
“Like what?” said Nilgun skeptically.
“Just tell us what happened the day of the rehearsals before you had your… er, accident.”
Nilgun shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. It was just a normal day. Are you saying that what happened to me wasn’t an accident? That someone made that lighting stuff fall on me?”
Nilgun’s voice had risen in sharply in pitch. She was looking at Percy and Nan with alarm.
“Not exactly,” said Percy quickly. “I’m going to cut to the chase. Do you think someone might have put something in your drink that might have made you … a little bit clumsy that day? Something that made you trip over and break your leg after the lighting stuff hit you? I mean, you’ve got great reflexes. You’re quick and agile. You should have been able to dodge it, right?”
Nilgun frowned. “I didn’t even see it coming.”
“Didn’t you feel weird at all when you were doing your talent bit with the fire batons? Woozy or anything?”
“Nope, I felt completely normal,” said Nilgun. “In fact, I thought it was all going really well right up until it wasn’t.”
The memory of Nilgun at the drinks
table suddenly came back to Percy. “Do you still have that little bottle of the herbal stuff you were taking for your sore throat?” she asked.
Nilgun’s eyebrows shot up. “My echinacea. You think someone tampered with it? I’d been taking that for days! It was fine.”
“Can I see it?” said Percy.
Nilgun shrugged and took the little bottle out of her bag. Percy was disappointed. There was no faint mist hanging over it as it had been last time.
“I had to replace it,” said Nilgun. “I must have misplaced it after the accident happened. I couldn’t find it anywhere. It’s just a normal tincture that you can buy in any pharmacy.”
Percy and Nan looked at each other in dismay. That bottle could have been proof to take to Councilor Strickt.
“On the day of your accident, during or before the rehearsal,” said Nan hopefully, “did anyone have a chance to get hold of the bottle? Did you leave your bag lying around?”
“Of course not!” said Nilgun. “After the girls were joking that they might put laxatives in someone’s drinks for the fun of it? Do you think I’m stupid?”
“Who said that?” said Percy sharply. “Was it one of the Three Bees?”
Nilgun shrugged. “Not them, actually. Someone was joking they might do it to them. That would have been kind of funny. Can you imagine Bella rushing to the—”
Suddenly Nilgun gasped. “Oh my gosh!”
“What?” said Percy and Nan together.
“Judge Emma was asking me the same thing on Tuesday when I came in to visit during the first round show in my wheelchair!” she said. “We were talking about my accident, and then she asked me if anyone could have put something in my drink, and I thought she was talking about a laxative or something!”
Percy and Nan looked at each other, both realizing at the same time what this meant.
Judge Emma had been suspicious. There was only one reason she could have been questioning Nilgun that way. She had found out someone had sabotaged Nilgun.
And she had been killed for it.
21. The Pageant Final
The clock was ticking towards the talent show final. School was over for the week. Friday night – or at least Friday late afternoon – had officially begun.
A buzz was in the air. Students milled around the corridors of the school, waiting for their parents and siblings to turn up so they could get seats together, or hung around in groups of friends chatting animatedly before the start of the show.
Percy had tried to get in backstage but all the doors leading there had been barred and teachers had been standing guard. Percy had approached Mrs Delancey, thinking the kindly English teacher would be the best bet to let her in, but even she had turned Percy away.
Percy should have been glad at this sign that the headmistress was taking this potential threat seriously, but she was miffed — she had been planning to sneak backstage to keep an eye on the girls.
She and Nan had discussed what Nilgun had told them, and both agreed that the only people who would have been able to spike Nilgun’s echinacea before the rehearsal on Sunday were the girls who had taken part or anyone else who had been present that day.
Which meant the best place for Percy to be was backstage.
There was nothing for it. She was going to have to find some other way in.
The problem was that all entrances to the assembly hall had been blocked off with velvet ropes and senior students acting as attendants, as if this really was a prestigious show.
The only way to get in now was to go outside and come in again via the school’s main entrance, filing in with the rest of the audience.
So Percy joined the queue, and waited impatiently with all of the other students and their parents, and took every opportunity to skip a few spaces forward when people were not looking.
She heard a boy exclaiming that he had left his group’s tickets in his locker. As he hurried off to get it, Percy realized she did not have a ticket.
She looked towards the entrance and recognized the girl and boy standing there checking tickets – they were two of Nan’s helpers. Older students. They knew she was a co-organizer. She was sure if she told them that Nan had her ticket they would let her in.
Annoyingly, trapped in the queue as she was, she could not get away from the many people who were giving her curious or downright disapproving glances.
“Disturbed,” she heard one mother say very quietly to her friend.
The friend nodded. “They shouldn’t allow these sorts into school with our children.”
Percy wanted to laugh. They were Humbles. If they knew that their kids went to school with werewolves and a vampire they would perish on the spot from shock.
Oh how sweet it would be to tell them, but only if they believed her, which they would not. Sometimes it sucked so bad to know a truth that no one would believe, dammit.
When Percy got to the front of the queue and the ticket collectors put their hands out for her ticket, she said, “Nan’s got mine. You know I was helping her organize this thing.”
“Sorry,” said the girl, “We’ve been told not to let anyone in without a ticket.”
“That didn’t mean me!” protested Percy.
“It means everyone,” said the boy.
“Oh yeah?” said Percy. “If the headmistress turned up without a ticket, are you going to tell her she can’t go in?”
“You’re hardly the headmistress.”
“Or Nan Gooding,” persisted Percy. “Would you keep her out?”
“Funny, you don’t look like Nan,” said the girl.
“You’re holding up the queue,” said the boy. “You’ll have to move aside.”
“No way,” said Percy. “I’m coming in whether you like it or not.”
She tried to push her way past them, thinking they would let it go, but the girl grabbed onto her jacket and pushed her back out.
Percy was instantly furious. She was not accustomed to being manhandled. She pushed the girl, and the girl screeched and pushed her back.
“What is going on here?” said the sonorous voice of Headmistress Glory, walking out from behind the girl and boy.
“It is this green-haired girl,” said an unctuous voice behind Percy. “She doesn’t have a ticket and she is trying to shove her way in. Really, headmistress, is this how you let your students behave?”
Percy glared at the man who was speaking. He was wearing a ridiculous top hat and carrying an ivory walking cane, clearly for fashion since he was in perfect health. He had a very well-groomed mustache that was twitching as he looked at her. She recognized him. He was Bella Osterich’s father.
“Mind your own business, weasel-tashe,” said Percy.
The man looked at her agog, his mouth dropping open. “How dare you speak to me this way! Apologize at once.”
“Really, Miss Prince. I will not have you speaking to our guests like that,” said the headmistress. Her angelic aquamarine eyes had turned to flinty chips but Percy was sure she had spotted a flash of mirth in them which had already disappeared. Clearly Glory liked this pompous buffoon about as much as Percy did.
“Then he should keep his mouth shut, shouldn’t he?” said Percy, unrepentant.
“Mummy, daddy?” called a haughty voice. Bella Osterich had come out of the school and was squeezing her way past the ticket inspecting students.
Laying eyes on her father, she said, “Oh good! You’ve remembered it.”
She reached out to grab what looked like a hatbox that her father was holding.
She spotted Percy and glared. “What are you doing here?”
“Keeping my eyes on you.”
“You wish.” Bella looked at the headmistress pleadingly. “But I thought she wouldn’t be allowed here, Headmistress Glory. Not after what she did last time. Everyone’s worried enough as it is.”
“Worried about what?” bit off the headmistress coldly.
Bella’s eyes went misty as if she was about to cry, and she said in
a wobbly voice that Percy knew was entirely false, “About the m-murder.” She whispered this word in tones of horror as if it pained her fragile young self to be forced to say it. “Her accusing people of things when everyone knew it was an accident! The rest of the girls and I would feel safer if she wasn’t here tonight. I mean, she didn’t even make it through the first round. She doesn’t need to be here.”
Percy could barely keep from rolling her eyes at all of this melodrama. She fixed the headmistress with a particular look that said, ‘You were the one who told me to take care of things.’
“It is not for you, Miss Osterich, to decide who will and will not be permitted entry to this event,” said Headmistress Glory.
Percy gave Bella a little smirk. Bella looked furious.
“If anything goes wrong tonight,” blustered Mr Osterich, “if one hair of my daughter’s head, or any other student for that matter, is harmed, you will have me to answer to, headmistress.”
He glared at Headmistress Glory.
She gave him a contemptuous look, and said icily, “I think I can manage that.”
He looked taken aback, as if he was not accustomed to a mere headmistress speaking to him in this way. He grabbed his wife and daughter by their arma and hustled them past the ticket attendants.
But then, unable to contain himself, he turned back around and furiously said, “I’ve half a mind to withdraw my daughter from this competition!”
Headmistress Glory raised an eyebrow. “You are welcome to do as you see fit,” she said.
“No!” wailed Bella. “Daddy! I’ve worked so hard for this! And I’m going to win tonight. You know I am. Don’t you want to see me win?”
To Percy’s horror, Lucifer Darkwing emerged from the school and came to stand right behind Bella. A smile came onto his face like a predator spotting its prey.
“Of course he does, pet,” he said silkily. “What father doesn’t want to see his daughter win?”
He gave the Osterich’s his most winning smile, and reached out to shake Mr Osterich’s hand.
“Lucifer Darkwing at your service. Head Librarian here at Humble High. I’ll keep a personal eye on Miss Prince to make sure she doesn’t cause any trouble. How about that?”
