Curse of the Red Evil

by Zel Spasov

  “The consequences of us failing to protect Cayden could be disastrous.”

  Although Doctor Dimitriou said the last word quietly, it echoed in the room. Her gaze was drilling a hole in the director's head like an electric screwdriver. The tension was unbearable. So much responsibility... Doctor Petrov couldn’t handle it alone. He needed someone like Persephone Dimitriou to make the important decisions. He surrendered to her will.

  “Yes, Doctor Dimitriou,” he said. “You can start the experimental treatment. You have my permission as the director of this hospital.”

  The last part he said to save what little dignity he had left. No real power remained in his hands—he had just transferred it to Doctor Perfect. He would give her anything she asked for as long as she left him alone.

  “You made the right decision,” she said. It was not an opinion, but a statement.

  Persephone stood up from the chair, having perfectly estimated the speed at which this action had to be executed, neither too fast nor too slow. She exited the room in the same mechanical way. The clicking of her red heels pierced the silence with every unmistakable step. After she had left the room, Doctor Petrov collapsed in his chair and exhaled. She reminded him of a movie villain, probably because of the red heels. The doctor was almost surprised that she didn’t have horns and a flaming tail, which, of course, would have been a massive fire safety issue. Nevertheless, he wanted the part about the tail to be true. Then he would have a reason to fire her.

  In fact, the director didn’t want to have anything to do with either Persephone Dimitriou or Cayden Starosta. Several months ago, however, he had received a call from the Ministry of Health, during which he had been informed that soon there would be a new addition to his hospital. If he did not feel that the hospital had the capacity to take on another psychiatrist, they said, they would find a more accommodating person for his position. Doctor Petrov had assured them that he was the most accommodating person there was.

  The new member of staff had, of course, been Doctor Dimitriou. As soon as she’d appeared, life at Mercy Hospital had changed for the worse. She’d arrived at about the same time they had brought in Cayden. At first, this coincidence had puzzled Director Petrov. The large amount transferred to his aunt's bank account, however, had helped him dispel his doubts.

  Whatever Persephone’s true motives were, he didn’t care. He preferred to stay away from such things.

  Chapter 2

  O nce outside the alley, Cayden looked around and was astonished by what he saw.

  Although the sun had already set and night's darkness had come, the street was well lit by many torches carried by a motley crowd of unusual creatures. They were an odd mix of different animals, walking on two legs and dressed as people. The street itself looked like a painting by Salvador Dali. Colorful bricks made up the road, and wooden stalls lined both sides of the path. Creatures that looked like giraffes, with the longest legs in the history of legs, were walking gracefully in the crowd. Their thick bodies, somehow balanced on their delicate legs, were adorned with golden flags depicting a roaring lion. The giraffe-like creatures carried small buildings on their backs, from which smaller creatures were throwing confetti, blossoms, and white clouds into the crowd. Cayden caught one of the clouds and inspected it closely. It looked exactly as he imagined a cloud would look like if he could reach out and snatch one from the sky. He released it, and the cloud soared into the air.

  The crowd consisted of badgers dressed in T-shirts, jeans, and sneakers; some big, scary-looking creatures with large skulls on their faces; foxes sneaking around, veiled by their hoods; huge bears with angry expressions; lions with leather jackets. A giant, gray, elephant-like creature was making its way through the crowd. He was as tall as a four-story building. A long and thick tail, covered with spikes, extended from his back. For the safety of the crowd, each spike was carefully covered with a piece of sturdy cloth. A rope coming from the creature's muzzle wrapped around his entire body and tail. Small creatures balanced on his back, each one holding a long rod. Small riders used sticks to lower baskets full of tasty treats into the crowd after they had received a leather pouch filled with money in exchange.

  Cayden spotted bright masks, weird costumes, and ribbons colored like the rainbow in the mass. Everyone was joyful. They were singing songs, accompanied by mellifluous instrumental music. A particularly unruly group of celebrating badgers made an impression on Cayden with their song:

  “Oh, the poor drink their watered-down wine,

  and the rich drink their fancy drinks, oh so fine.

  Oh, how I dream of being rich too, one day.

  Then I’ll drink their fancy drinks by the bay.

  I want to be rich, rich, rich,

  richer than the king.

  I don’t want to die in a ditch,

  but to sing, sing, sing.

  We get up early in the morning to work,

  and the rich get up to drink and sing.

  Ah, how I dream not to have to work,

  Then I will drink too, like a king.

  I want to be rich, rich, rich,

  richer than the king.

  I don’t want to die in a ditch,

  but to sing, sing, sing.”

  The crowd was moving toward a radiant ray of light that pierced the dark, cloudy sky in the distance. Its source was the castle built on a hill, rising above the city as a majestic guardian—a promise of security and prosperity.

  Cayden couldn’t shake the feeling he’d seen all of this before. Not only that, he was sure he’d been inside the palace on multiple occasions. A thumping in his head tugged him toward the castle, like an itch at the back of his head that he couldn’t scratch. “Come to me,” he heard a whisper in his ears say. He turned around but didn’t see anyone. “Come to me,” whispered the voice again. Cayden realized it was coming from the palace. Someone or Something was calling out to him. He joined the crowd.

  The festivities were spectacular; the crowd was buzzing with excitement. He overheard parts of conversations about the celebration. Apparently, the king was arriving tonight. Music flowed from every house. Sounds of drums, trumpets, and guitars flooded the streets. At least a hundred creatures huddled in one house, drinking beer and joking between themselves, some dancing, others just hanging out. In the wooden stalls, merchants sold a variety of goods from candy to all sorts of trinkets made from bones, crystals, and wood. Dozens of odors mingled in the air, creating new scents Cayden couldn’t identify. Creatures made merry on every corner, every street, and every square, with frantic tunes and frenzied music.

  Something bothered Cayden about it all. Everybody celebrates to forget their everyday worries. Presumably, the celebrating citizens were also trying to get away from their problems. However, a tingling, unpleasant smell in the air came through Cayden’s nostrils, rotated several times around his heels, and stuck in his heart. The only way he could describe it was as fear. The laughter of the creatures was fevered, their games were forced, and the mood underneath it all was heavy and tense.

  Cayden’s attention was drawn by mesmerizing music coming from a nearby inn. The place was called The Happy Drinker. Cayden made his way through the crowd and entered the packed tavern. The patrons appeared to be hypnotized by the music played by skillful jazz musicians on the tavern’s stage.

  The trumpeter, a tall and lean mink dressed in a wide shirt and trousers, drew sorrowful tones from his instrument. “Pa-paraaa-pa-paraaa.” With each note, he swayed like a drunk from left to right. An untouched glass of whiskey stood on the chair beside him. The drummer lightly used his brushes on the drums—“badum-tss, badum-tss”—and nodded, as if the music was talking to him and he was agreeing with everything she had to say. The bassist pulled the strings of his contrabass with gentle force. The three of them were in synchronicity, each absorbed in his own world but at the same time a part of something bigger than himself. Little by little, the trumpeter’s grief gathered and overflowed. The drums sounded
louder: “Thump-dadum-tss.” The pianist, who had been listening carefully up to this moment, struck a few chords and then walked through the piano keys, telling a story only his instrument could express. The bassist swung his long hair back and forth. He couldn’t see the audience or the other musicians, and he didn’t have to. The heartbreaking melody grew stronger The trumpeter played lengthy, sad notes, and as soon as he caught a good one, he held it for a long time: “Pa-rara-paaaaaaaaa....” Behind him, the pianist hardly kept his notes inside of the piano; the melody took on a life of its own and floated around the room like heavy smoke, an invisible presence that caressed Cayden's ears and then slapped him in the face.

  Lost in the vortex, the musicians came to the absolute peak, and those in the audience who hadn’t become unconscious due to excessive drinking started banging on the tables and yelling, “Yes! Yes! Come on, brother, do it!”

  The melody went down only to get back up after a moment; she made a few turns until finally, exhausted, the musicians took her down to the ground, themselves coming out of the ecstasy that had overtaken them.

  The instruments relaxed, and the trumpeter played an adagio, caressing every note that came out of his instrument. Finally, he dropped the trumpet to the side, while the exhausted audience applauded loudly, and took a large sip from his whiskey glass.

  Cayden once more felt he had been here before. This place meant something to him, or at least to the person he had been before he’d lost his memories. If only he could remember who he was, he would know why it all felt so familiar.

  He stepped outside and was immediately surrounded by the crowd. He felt lost and alone—even in the hospital, he had at least had Jean. Here, in this foreign world, he didn’t know anyone. There was no one around to help. Maybe he should just turn back and find a way to return to his room at the hospital. However horrible the institution was, at least they had breakfast. And faces he could recognize.

  The beam of light piercing the night sky in the distance drew his gaze. “Come to me,” the voice in his head whispered again. Cayden sensed that inside the castle he could find the answer he craved. There, he somehow knew, he would find out who he really was. Surely that was worth a few more hours. Yes, he told himself, and after he had regained his memories and learned the truth about himself, he would go back to the hospital. Totally.

  Encouraged by this, he started to walk in the direction of the beam, when a presence on his shoulder startled him.

  “Are you going to the palace?”

  Cayden jumped in the air, trying to shake the amphibian off his shoulder. Then he stopped, realizing it was the bearded Frog from earlier, the one who had fallen with him from the sky. He seemed visibly interested in Cayden.

  “Do you have an invitation to the ceremony?” the Frog asked.

  “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Cayden asked. “What ceremony?”

  “King Fraud arrives in the city today. Count Porcius has arranged a celebration for his return.”

  “And I need an invitation?”

  “Of course you need an invitation. Do you think they just let everyone in the castle?”

  “I don’t know; I've never been to a castle before. I didn’t even know there was a celebration tonight.”

  “If you are not going to the palace for the party, then why?” asked the Frog. “Do you want to see the ruby?”

  “What ruby?”

  “You know…” said the Frog quietly, “… the ruby. Everyone’s talking about it. It’s supposed to be a magical stone of great power. They say that if you get near it, you can feel it pulsating.”

  The thumping inside Cayden’s head became even more powerful. It was beckoning him toward the castle. Could the ruby be its source?

  “Can it bring back memories?” Cayden heard himself asking. He immediately regretted it—he shouldn’t have revealed this much to the unknown Frog.

  “Maybe,” said the amphibian. “If you want it strong enough. Is that what you want?”

  “No, it’s not that,” lied Cayden. “It’s something else. And it’s none of your business.”

  “All right, have your secrets,” said the Frog. “Then we have a deal: I'll help you get in the palace if you take me with you.”

  “Really?” Cayden was pleased. “That's awes... Wait. I never agreed to that. Why do you want to go to the palace?

  “I have my secrets too,” said the amphibian. “You'll hide me in your pocket, and I'll help you find an invitation once we get there.”

  “Why do you need to hide?”

  “The guards and I have had a misunderstanding. They think I stole some gems, and so now there’s a warrant for my arrest, but it’s all just a big mistake.”

  “Of course,” said Cayden. “Happens all the time.” He picked up the Frog from his shoulder and placed him on the ground. He didn’t want to be seen together with the amphibian and be thrown in jail. “Well, it was nice talking to you, but I really have to go now…”

  “I understand,” said the Frog in a sad voice. “Well, goodbye, human. The next time you see me, you probably won’t recognize me, because I'll be cut into slices by the city guard and then served up at some restaurant.”

  Guilt immediately flooded the pit of Cayden’s stomach. His conscience couldn’t let him leave the poor amphibian in the streets, awaiting his death by the guards. On the other hand, he was a criminal who could put Cayden’s life in danger.

  “It would have been easier if I’d had friends,” continued the Frog. “Or brothers and sisters. Or a mother and a father. But, you see, my mother died when I was born. It’s not easy to give birth to hundreds of babies at the same time. Dad was turned into dinner at a restaurant. And my brothers and sisters tried to eat me. Yes, the life of a lone frog is a difficult one. No one has ever helped me. So I turned to stealing. I had to support my hungry family. How else can I feed my wife and my hundreds of children? Alas, no one wants to hire a frog to work. I am a victim of my circumstances. If you were in my shoes… webbed feet, you would understand. But no one ever does.”

  After that speech, Cayden couldn’t just leave the poor Frog. Besides, he didn’t have a lot of options. If the Frog was right, then there was no way he could enter the castle without an invitation.

  “All right, you can hide in my pocket so that no one sees you. Once we arrive at the castle, we're splitting up.”

  “Understood,” said the Frog, and he jumped in Cayden’s pocket. “I knew you were a good man. Although you look a little stupid.”

  “Don’t you know when to shut up?”

  “Frog?” Cayden asked after having walked for a while. “What is everybody celebrating today?”

  “It’s the Festival of Nine Moons,” the Frog said. “Every year, the citizens of Agapea celebrate for nine nights. War is forbidden during the holiday. This includes any disputes, quarrels, and so on. The irony is that during the holiday there are more drunken bouts than ever before.”

  Cayden furrowed his brow. The names “Agapea” and “The Festival of Nine Moons” sounded familiar. Cayden also felt that he knew the Frog from long ago, from a past life he had forgotten. A sensation of déjà vu was following him everywhere, and some mysterious Presence was beckoning him to the castle. These were all puzzle pieces he couldn’t put together yet.

  ***

  Monsieur Bernard Gèroux, the not-very-famous wolf and bounty hunter, had been following the bearded Frog for some time. The Frog, who went by the name Jean, was wanted by the city guard. They had set a large bounty on his head, which didn’t surprise Bernard. Jean had been a known criminal for a while. It was just a matter of time until the guards went after him.

  Of course, there was always competition—every headhunter worth his salt was searching for the amphibian at this very moment. Monsieur Gèroux, however, had the advantage because he knew how Jean operated. Through a wide network of informers, he had managed to find the Frog’s hideout in a matter of days. He had learned that the criminal was hiding in a
n old building, conveniently located on the main street leading to the castle. The bounty hunter was almost offended—it was as if the Frog was underestimating him, hiding in such a conspicuous place. Jean should’ve known not to do this, given their history together. Perhaps it was this fact which had prevented other hunters from finding his whereabouts. Sometimes the best hiding place was the most obvious one.

  Of course, capturing the Frog and collecting the bounty was just one part of his master plan. His real goal was the title of a Royal Bounty Hunter. The position meant a lifetime appointment at the palace, as well as the knowledge that he would be participating in the most elite group of headhunters. It also meant he would finally overcome the uncertainty of working as a freelance bounty hunter. It had been an exciting and appealing life at first. However, it was quickly becoming exhausting. The wolf was tired of constantly having to put his life at risk, not knowing when the next paycheck would come. Over the years, his responsibilities had increased. He was no longer supporting only himself. There were others who depended on him.

  He walked with purpose in his every step. Once he found his target, Monsieur Gèroux pursued it until he caught it. He was ready to put his life on the line to accomplish the task.

  Monsieur Gèroux hid behind some barrels of wine while he watched as the amphibian, now concealed inside of the pocket of an unknown man, made his way through the crowd. As far as the wolf was concerned, the man was an accomplice to the Frog’s crime. If necessary, the headhunter would dispatch him. Who knew? Maybe there was a reward for his head too.

  The wolf followed the duo silently into the crowd.

  ***

  The red wine lightly stained the woman's teeth as she sipped from the glass.

  “How's Cayden doing?”

  An old man and a young woman were sitting at a table that had been handmade from oak wood. The old man looked weak; his voice was wavery and barely audible. The room they were in was spacious, with a Persian rug with intricate design patterns on the floor, and a tall, roaring fire flickering in the fireplace like the tongue of a serpent waiting to strike. Outside, thunder rumbled in the darkness.