by Margs Murray
Manon picked up a small square package. She tore the paper away. “Cubox of your very own.” Manon flipped the box several times and pushed a nearly invisible button. A small flame hovered over the box. She handed it to me. “Here, blow.”
I did. “Can I get the news on this?”
Manon nodded. “You can but—“
“News,” I demanded, and red flames erupted into my room, red and oddly silent. My gut reaction was to run, but there was no smell, no heat.
A reporter’s voice broke the silence in the room as the flames shifted to singed rubble. “While there are still many questions surrounding the attack, one thing is for certain; replacing the material goods is easy, but the loss of life—”
Manon turned off the cubox. Tears ran down her face. “There will be an investigation, but the Galvantry have already taken credit. Things will move fast from here on. Bollard is coming.” Manon’s shoulder’s slumped, her head hung down, and she held the bedpost to support her. “He is furious. He thinks someone here is to blame for your attack.”
“He thinks Claudette may have something to do with it?” I asked.
“Non.” Manon went back to my piles of gifts and picked up another. She tore the paper at a corner. “He would never blame Claudette, and you shouldn’t either. No good will come from it.”
“But I think she did. She was the one who took me away from the guards. She intentionally dropped my hand, leaving me with the crowd.”
Manon shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters now. This will not end well.”
“I’m not afraid of her.” I attempted to force my voice to sound sure, but the words came out shaky.
“You should be.” She slowly put the half-opened gift back on the table. “You should be afraid of Bollard, too.”
“You don’t have to be with my uncle if you don’t want to be. Break up with him. If it’s about money, I am sure you could make the money performing.” I thought of Lothaire’s warning. “We could go together. We could go to my home.”
“No, Waverly. You don’t understand.”
Yelling came from the hallway like a cat screeching at the moon. It was Claudette. “Here fishy, fishy. Minnow, come out and play!”
Manon’s eyes filled with tears. She furiously wiped them away. “I did not sign up for this,” she mumbled. She paced the floor. I knew why she was there then. Sure, she wanted to check up on me, but more than that, today scared her. No, terrified was more like it.
“Fishy, fishy, swim your tank, fishy, fishy, you’re not safe. Fishy, fishy, swim your caves, fishy, fishy, in the grave. Come out, little minnow, I know you’re in this hall somewhere.” Claudette taunted Manon.
“Stay here,” I said.
“Please don’t.” She took my arm. “We will be safe in here. She wouldn’t dare come for me in here.”
I didn’t know if Manon was right. I took a deep breath. I had overcome Claudette’s efforts at controlling me at the restaurant; I could do it in the hallway too. I just had to remember to avoid her eyes.
Out in the hallway, Claudette was barefoot, her hair disheveled, and she had a long gray streak of dirt on her cheek. A liquor bottle swayed in her hands.
“You have a lot of nerve showing up here after today.” I confronted her.
“Ha! Dear cousin, you made it back. No hard feelings, right?” She held out her hand. I didn’t take it.
“Dog has a little bite in her.” She gnashed her teeth. “Growl. You should send the minnow out, I want to play. Ah, there she is.”
Manon stood in my doorway.
“Minnow, I want to introduce you to someone.” Claudette’s arm rested on a giraffe carving.
“This is Ms. Lisa Sanders of Barnbury. She loved lollipops, the poor dear. Lollipops and gold bracelets.”
“And this. This…” Claudette rolled her body along the animals, finally resting on a bear. “This is Mrs. Nancy Marr of New York City. She liked watercress soup and wouldn’t be caught dead eating sugar. She was so bony.”
“And what, the lion’s Sir Francis Diggory? You’ve had too much to drink,” I said.
“Don’t be silly. That is Ms. Doreen Nicholas of New Port.”
I wanted to mention that Ms. Doreen was clearly a male, but I didn’t want to be talking with her. I backed away towards my room.
“You like the Minnow, don’t you? She’ll be gone like the rest, another animal to the wall, and what then?”
“Claudette, you’re drunk.”
“I always am and always will be. Dear, dear Waverly, wait until Bollard‘s done with you. You’ll have to drink to be rid of the shadows, to forgive yourself for what you must do, but here is a secret. They never go away, no matter how much you drink. They will follow you until you die of madness or until they kill you themselves. That’s the way most Merrics die, covered in shadows, screaming for mercy from their damaged souls. You think I am mean? Your death would have been a gift to not only you but to humanity. But look, I’ve said too much. Uncle will be cross. Have you ever seen an angry Rivenor? You don’t even know what a Rivenor is.” Her face lit up with false shock. “You don’t know the first thing about what you are.” She stepped towards Manon. She stared at her, or at least tried to, but she was having a hard time focusing.
Manon put her hand on my shoulder. “Come on, Waverly.”
“Run away.” Claudette took another drink from the bottle. “Not that it will do you much good.”
We rushed into the room, and I slammed the door shut. “What’s that Rivenor thing she mentioned? What is that?”
“I don’t know.” Manon sat by the presents and bit her thumbnail. “I don’t understand half of what she says. Waverly, we are friends, yes?”
I nodded. We hadn’t known each other long, but I cared for her.
“If Bollard asks, will you tell him we are friends?”
“Yeah, sure.”
That made Manon smile. “Good. Good. Can we finish opening the gifts now?”
“Sure, I guess. Why is it so important though?”
“It will make Bollie happy.”
Manon opened gifts with me for an hour. She enjoyed it much more than I did. After that day and the attack, no gifts could make me feel better.
“Manon, do you know if King Lothaire is okay?”
Manon shrugged her shoulders. “I have not heard.”
Chapter 19
A Clear Indication of Mistrust
His shirt untucked, his bowtie loose, Doc staggered into the room. Something was off. He looked tired and his hair stuck to his head with sweat like he’d woken up from a restless sleep or a nightmare.
I ran to his side. “Are you okay, Doc?”
He took a deep breath and sat on my bed, his hands kneading his temples. “I am sorry, Waverly. How are you feeling tonight?”
“Doc, what’s wrong? What happened? You look terrible.”
Eyes dilated, and face flushed, Doc said, “Exodrodinal, otherwise known as The Truth Serum, is the cause.”
“Truth serum is real here?”
“It’s real here as the sky is blue, among several horrifying drugs. Like Lotuslye: it can make you live in a dream for weeks on end. Or Guitimin, which slowly turns your organs into liquid unless the antidote, Sitamill is given. Of course, they would never use Guitimin on you.”
“Why would a place have drugs like that?”
“To torture traitors, although these methods are far more humane than other things.” Doc put his hands before his mouth. He was trying to stop himself from talking, but he couldn’t control what he was saying. Doc would tell me the answer to anything I asked.
But, no. Doc had been there for me, had held me when I cried. I could be here for him now. “Doc, please go lie down. We can talk later.”
“I can think clearly. It’s just I can’t lie. Besides, I need to check on you. I am so sorry about what happened. I can’t help feeling it was my fault. I should have protested. Claudette is not a good person.”
“Do you think she had something to do with what happened too?”
Doc nodded. “Yes, and no. She wanted to lose you in the commotion and cause chaos for everyone else. But truly harm you? No. Claudette likes to play with her food before she devours it, but she wouldn’t do that to you. You are too valuable to the Royals. See, they need you to be the weapon like your grandmother was.”
“Grandma was a weapon?”
“Oh yes, and I am sure her shadows are thick.”
“You mean the Tennabris or something else?”
Doc shook his head. “The Tennabris is something else.” Doc was saying far more than he wanted, and I realized I was overstepping a boundary I shouldn’t. Doc would be in danger of telling me all of this.
“Why were you given Exodrodinal?” I asked, unsure if the question crossed that boundary.
Eyes squinting, Doc looked at me and shook his head. “Ah. The drug indicates mistrust.”
“Mistrust? Of you? How? Why? They can’t possibly think you had anything to do with what happened.” I wondered why the Libratiers suspected Doc.
“No, they are giving it to everyone, but there are things I have done.”
“Like what?” I asked without thinking. If I knew his secrets, who could say they wouldn’t drug me and cause me to spill Docs secrets? I quickly added, “Never mind, don’t answer that.”
“I was the one who got in touch with the king.”
“Lothaire?” It was Doc who contacted the king.
“He’s missing, you know. No one has seen him since your dinner.”
“Claudette… did she do something to the king?”
Doc shook his head and pursed his lips. He absolutely didn’t want to tell me what he knew about this.
“It’s okay, Doc. We can talk about something else.”
“I’m afraid you need a hero, Waverly.” Doc put his hand on my arm; the drugs aged him, and he appeared older, weaker.
“Do you know of any?” I joked.
His smile was devious. “Yes, but with your powers, you won’t need one for long.”
“Don’t hold your breath on those powers.”
Tears filled his eyes. “You do, child. Great powers. Whether or not you want them, they are there. Lovely little Aspen.”
“I’m sure I don’t. I mean, I’m just Waverly.”
“I should tell you everything, but I’m not sure it will save you, and it will be the death of me.”
“No, no, no.” I couldn’t let him. Doc was about to tell me everything, and then his life would be in danger. I took his hand from my arm and held it in my hand. “Can I get you something?”
He sat still for a few moments and then replied thoughtfully, “There is a small pantry for linens. It’s a go-between for the great hall and the kitchen. Under a pile of lime green napkins, I hid a vile of medicine. It will help us.”
“They drugged others too, didn’t they?” If they gave Manon the drug, she would reveal her affair and Claudette would torture her some more before my uncle enacted whatever revenge he deemed fit.
I needed to get the medicine, but Doc didn’t look good. “I’ll stay with you.”
“I’ll be fine, but this medicine matters greatly. It will help us all.” Doc rose from my bed. I had no choice.
“Doc, please sit down. Wait for me here.” I slipped my arms into my white housecoat and slid my feet into my slippers.
“Take care.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead. I had an awful feeling that Doc was saying goodbye.
“Please wait for me here. Please, Doc. You’ll need me,” I said.
“We all need you. Diamond mines, child. Diamond mines.”
I went to the great hall first. Five guards were in there, so I entered through the kitchen instead. A group of chefs and workers sat at a table playing cards and drinking. After my talk with Doc, I knew I had to move through undetected, so I waited behind a counter until I was sure no one was looking. One man said, “Bollard ain’t happy. You in?”
A man replied, “Not with this hand. What do you think, Rhett? Who’s leaving tonight?”
The man named Rhett slammed his cards down on the table. “Not me but in his mood, it will be someone.”
“Poor kid,” the first man said. “She won’t know what hit her.”
“Auch, they’re all bad.”
I peeked over the counter.
One guy, he looked like the chef, poured himself a new drink, finishing the bottle. Before he downed the glass, the man to his left stopped him. “Not so fast. You emptied it.”
“You can’t finish a bottle without a song. It brings bad luck,” the first man said.
“Fine,” The chef stood up, and I lowered completely to the floor as he began his song. “Where does happiness dwell, halfway to heaven, the final farewell?”
The men all replied in song. “It’s not in the port that the Merrics sell. So I’ll see you in hell, in hell, if we’re lucky enough to die.”
“Where has happiness gone? The end of the bottle? The start of a song?”
“The army will rise be strong, be strong. So I’ll see you in hell, in hell, if we’re lucky enough to die.”
“Why has happiness died?” And the chef continued the song. I raised up again and chanced another look. The men all stood, arms over each other shoulders. Thankfully, they were all facing the other direction, and I crawled to the pantry.
The pantry was large, with row after row of shelves. Wherever Doc hid the pills, he’d hid them well. By the time I found the green napkins, I was clear on the other side of the room near the entrance to the dining hall. Not wanting to crawl again, I checked the great hall. The officers had cleared out, so I could leave through there rather than the kitchen.
I entered the great hall, and the room appeared even bigger, colder than before. The grand fireplaces were empty as were the long, wide tables. I needed to get out of there.
Halfway through the dining room, I heard voices in the hallway. One of them was pronouncing each syllable of his words. Bollard was on the other side of the door.
The first waves of heat hit me. Then my ears buzzed.
Uncle Bollard was radiating so much heat, I felt it all the way in the great hall. A need to put distance between my uncle and me took over my body, and I panicked. There was no time to run back to the pantry, so I darted under the table and pulled the chair back in place just in time.
From my hiding place, I witnessed Bollard and Rudolf come in.
“I want you to tell me word for word what they said,” Bollard commanded.
Rudolf kept his eyes down. “He said his men lost her in Europe.”
“Where?”
“Omsk. Pythia lost them in the city.”
“Has she contacted the girl?”
“No, nothing yet but there was a book in the library,” Rudolf said.
“What!”
“Waverly hasn’t been in the library. We destroyed the book before she saw it.”
“Pythia was here!” Bollard roared, and heat rippled through the room. “You were to scour the place.”
Rudolf loosened his necktie. I plainly saw he didn’t want to be near Bollard. “Pythia sees all things. It could have been there for years.”
“L’Autre Bête has been compromised.” A wicked smile appeared on Bollard’s face. “Where is my niece now?”
“Her doctor is checking on her in her room.”
“And what does she know?”
“Nothing so far but… she’s capable. She’s a nice kid.”
“Nice won’t matter. I will speak with her in the morning.” He wore a sinister expression when he said this, and the future discussion terrified me.
“Is there anything else, sir?” Rudolf asked, more than ready to get away from Bollard.
“No. Send him in.”
A guard pushed a person in a wheelchair; a white sheet covered their head and body. I had a sick, awful fear something terrible was about to happen to whoever was under the sheet.
The dining room was getting hotter even though none of the fireplaces were lit. I wiped the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. I needed to get out from under the table. Whatever was about to happen, I was sure I didn’t want to see it, yet I was trapped. Who was under the sheet?
Another guard placed a big brown box on the table. The box creaked. A large bird flew out. It was still young, with white feathered wings and a downy belly, barely old enough to fly. The neck was long and white.
The heat was growing. It had to be about ninety degrees on the floor. I needed to get out of there. But I couldn’t move.
The body moaned from under the sheet. Who was under there?
I kept thinking, please not Manon, or Enzo. Not Doc. Please, not Doc. I begged for the person to be a stranger, but I knew deep down it was not.
Bollard yanked off the sheet. The King of France’s chin dropped to his chest. Bollard grabbed him by his white hair and forced his head up. Lothaire’s eyes were completely shut. Bollard ripped the tape from his mouth.
“Please,” he moaned through chapped lips.
“What did you tell the child?”
“Leave her alone.”
“Why, Lothaire? I’ve waited a long time for this girl. She is lovely, is she not? You can feel the power all around her. Oh, yes. She reeks of power. You remember Helena’s powers, don’t you? Always curious. Remember how you told her they wouldn’t change how you felt.”
“No,” he croaked.
Bollard held out his arm. The bird landed on his forearm, its talons sinking into his suit. Bollard didn’t even flinch as blood trickled out the jacket sleeve. “Do you know what this is?”
“You can’t get away with this. I’m a king, for God’s sake.” The bird nipped my uncle’s arm, tearing through his black coat.
“A white-backed vulture, pretty little bird. See, he is healthy, nippy, but I am holding him, and he doesn’t like it. He wants to be free, and I want him to stop pecking me.” He lifted his arm, and the bird took flight. “See how well he flies. He is life. Remember, he is up there.”
“My son will come after you.”
“I’ve already spoken with your son. I promised to release you into the wild where you can roam free. He understands the circumstances and wishes you a good life.”
