To the Eternal (Away From Whipplethorn Book Five)

by Hartoin, A. W.

  A wave of disappointment rolled over me. I’d been hoping that Delphine was wrong that the archduke hadn’t sent word about me to the three remaining horen.

  The Commander regarded me quietly and took a long puff on his stick. “When you sent that message about Golok—”

  “Victory!” shouted Victory.

  “Quiet, boy. I’ll deal with you later,” said The Commander. “I went to Vienna when your message arrived. Didn’t see a dang horen, but I found Bentha healed, and we came to Rome. Don’t change the dang subject.”

  “I’m not going to kill a baby,” I said.

  “A horen baby,” said Gerald.

  “Any baby. We’re going to figure out how to make everyone immune to the venom.”

  The Commander shook his head. “You and your morals. First, you make medicine from that horen arm and now this. This better not come back and bite us in the shell, Matilda Whipplethorn.”

  The cardinal came to my defense. “Her Highness did the moral thing. His Holiness is grateful.”

  “He ought to be after what he pulled,” said The Commander. “What about the rest of the Whipplethorns in France? Is he gonna help with that or look the other way and hope for the best like he did with that horen?”

  The cardinal looked at me. “Pope Joyous is convening his council. He will come to a decision soon.”

  “How soon?” asked The Commander.

  “Within days. With The Reich’s Fae in the city, there can be no delay.”

  “You’re sending troops after those kidnapping rascals?”

  “Yes, and I would like to ask for your help with the permission of Her Highness,” asked the cardinal.

  I shrugged. “Like I said, The Commander is in charge. I have a dragon to see.”

  “Yeah, you go see about that egg,” said The Commander. “My boys and I will find some Reich’s Fae. Should be fun. I love a good hunt. Now, have you got any flies? We need a good feed.”

  I left them, discussing the merits of blue flies versus fruit flies. Nobody wanted to hear that except Horc. He tried to talk me into letting him stay for fly, but we needed to be together, all us Whipplethorns. Our dragon needed us. It was time to see how badly.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  WE FOUND PENELOPE sleeping on a small dog bed in the corner of Aldo’s office. Margarite and Suzanne stood close by with their heads together. Rufus was attached to her belly, red hot and pulsating, next to a long wound closed with spiderwebs. Fidelé had coiled himself around her neck. He was purring so hard, I could see the vibrating from a distance. Reptiles stick together, except Ovid and Percy were no where to be seen.

  Suzanne and Margarite turned around when we landed. They were covered in blood and some other stuff I didn’t want to think about. Gerald made a face. “What is that?”

  “The miracle of birth,” said Margarite with an exhausted smile.

  “Birth is gross.”

  “I won’t deny it.”

  “How is she?” I asked. “Did you get the egg?”

  Suzanne nodded. “Margarite knew just what to do.”

  Aldo came in through the swinging door, carrying a paper dish. “Is our mother ready to have some spices?”

  Penelope was always ready to eat, but this time, she didn’t twitch.

  “She won’t wake for some time,” said Margarite.

  Aldo plucked a stink bug out of the dish and dangled it by a leg in front of Gerald and Horc. Gerald turned green around the edges, Horc lunged for it. “Mine!”

  Gerald set him on the floor and backed up. “Nobody else wants it.”

  Horc tore off a leg and nibbled the foot. “Toasty.”

  “I found it on the windowsill in the sun,” said Aldo.

  “With a nice, piquant aftertaste,” said Horc. “I approve.”

  Margarite came over to Gerald and took his hand. “You’re shaking. Is it the stink bug?”

  “It’s the horen,” he said and she went pale. “What happened?”

  “Nothing,” I said, quickly. “Gerald just has a thing about horen.”

  “A thing,” he said. “They killed my parents.”

  Margarite let go of his hand and backed away. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  Gerald started to cry. “Matilda won’t kill it. Maybe there’s going to be immunity someday, but it’s a horen now. I know what they do.”

  Suzanne looked back and forth between them. “You don’t mean there’s a horen in Rome.”

  Margarite straightened up and looked like the fierce mom she was. “Yes, and her name is Angelica. I’ll tell you all about her.”

  “I’d like to hear that,” said Aldo, looking at Gerald, who was shaking harder.

  I took his hand. “Let’s go get some tea.” I picked up my traveling bag and pulled him away.

  “No,” said Gerald, wiping his eyes. “I want to see the egg. Where’s the egg?”

  “Percy has it,” said Aldo. “He was flying around the neighborhood, announcing it with Ovid.”

  “He took the egg?” I asked.

  Suzanne held up her hands. “He’s a dragon. We couldn’t say no.”

  Great. Percy was a good dragon, but I wouldn’t say he was a careful dragon. Eggs were delicate.

  There was a tapping on my neck.

  “What is it, Victory?” I asked.

  Victory stalked, much like his father, out to my hand. “Percy is at the coffee bar.”

  “Well, let’s go see the egg.”

  Victory didn’t move. I expected him to leap off my hand and lead the way.

  “Victory?”

  “Do you think The Commander approves of me?” he asked.

  Gerald and I exchanged a look. I wasn’t sure what to say.

  “No,” offered Horc.

  “Horc!” I exclaimed.

  “No one in their right mind could approve of that pipsqueak. His egg cracked. It was not a good sign.”

  “Quiet,” said Gerald. “Victory’s okay. Right, Matilda?”

  Well…

  “Victory’s special,” I said.

  “But does The Commander approve of me?” asked the little phalanx. He’d taken off his shell and was turning it in his hands. “Mother approves of me.”

  “Iris pretty much approves of everybody. She is love. The Commander will…get used to you.”

  Horc snorted and shoved an entire bug foot in his mouth.

  “He will,” I said.

  “Did your parents get used to you?” asked Victory, still turning his shell.

  “We’re working on it, but they do love me.”

  Victory popped on his shell. “I will make The Commander love me and call me by my name.”

  “Demanding is probably not a good idea,” said Gerald.

  Fist pump. “I will it! Take me to the dragons!”

  I rolled my eyes and flew out through a crack in the door to the main part of Aldo’s place. It was now packed with humans at the coffee bar and small tables, sipping coffee and eating porchetta or pasta. The fairy area in the front window was completely full with ashrays and wood fairies, but no dragons.

  “Where’s Percy?” I asked, looking up to see if he was circling. He wasn’t.

  Gerald tapped my arm. “On the coffee bar.”

  We sailed over and found the dragons on the bar opposite a couple of handsome business men, who were on their phones. Ovid and Percy lapped up the mens’ espressos with glazed expressions and twitching tails.

  “Dragons are disgusting,” said Gerald.

  “It could be worse,” I said. And then it got worse. Ovid turned around and positioned his green rump over the cup.

  We ran down the length of the bar, yelling, “No!”

  Ovid looked at us and peed, filling the little cup to the brim and then waggling his head back and forth, cackling. The human, an incredibly handsome Italian with dark eyes, looked up from his phone and decided that was the moment to drink his espresso.

  I beat his fingers by a split second and heated th
e cup to burning. The human touched it and jerked back his fingers, exclaiming, “Merda!”

  Dario ran from the other end of the bar, apologizing. He looked at the cup and then looked at Ovid, who preened, acting like he had no idea what was in that cup.

  Dario muttered something about dragons under his breath, picked up the smelly cup, and threw it away. He ordered a fresh espresso for the confused human and then wiped down the counter. He was really trying to wipe off Ovid, who was too fast for him and kept jumping over his hand. The customer started looking at Dario like he was nuts, so he gave up and gave the man his new espresso while pushing a hissing Ovid toward me.

  “Ovid! Why are you so bad? This is Aldo’s place. He let us stay and this is how you repay him?” I sounded like my mom. It was so annoying.

  Ovid tucked his head under his wing like he was ashamed, which he wasn’t. Dragons don’t get ashamed, no matter what Iris said.

  “Stop being gross. Why can’t you be more like Percy?” I asked and turned to look at the spice dragon. Percy was just turning around to aim his rump over a cup. “Percy! I will tell Iris!”

  Percy glared at me but didn’t pee. The human picked up his cup and looked into it. Empty, of course. He shook his head and ordered another. Dario gave me a little wave to get them out.

  I marched over to Percy and looked to the right and left of him. No egg. He must’ve stashed it somewhere. “Alright. Where’s Penelope’s egg?”

  He gave me the stink eye.

  “Percy! You didn’t lose it, did you?” I asked.

  More stink eye. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought he was insulted. The red dragon sat up on his haunches and wrapped his long tail around his feet as he watched Dario’s assistant make another shot of espresso.

  “Can dragons drink coffee?” I asked Gerald.

  “Why not? They eat poison.”

  “Good point. But still, that human’s paying for coffee. He ought to get some that hasn’t had dragon tongue in it. Percy, come away from—” That’s when I noticed the lump on his abdomen. I panicked. I really did. “Gerald. Gerald. Gerald.”

  Gerald looked around. “What? What? Is it the horen?”

  “He ate it,” I said.

  “The horen?”

  “The egg!” I bent over. “I’m going to be sick.”

  Victory tapped my neck.

  “Go away. This day stinks. We lost Volotora. We’re no closer to freeing Mom and Dad or getting the vermillion for the empress. We finally get Margarite to get the egg out of Penelope and then Percy eats it. It’s unbelievable. Does anyone have worse luck than us? I don’t think so. You have to tell Penelope because I can’t do it. I can’t. I just can’t.”

  More tapping.

  “Go tell her. You speak dragon.” The marble of the counter was swimming.

  Then a wrinkled hand reached down and took mine. I looked up at the long red muzzle of Volotora and the kind face of Pope Joyous. “Breathe, Your Highness.”

  “Volotora!” I threw my hands around his warm neck and sobbed into the red fur.

  Pope Joyous rubbed my back and then pulled me away. “It will all be well.”

  “You don’t know.” I said, gulping down air.

  “It just so happens that I do. Your dragon didn’t eat the egg.”

  “Then what’s that lump?”

  “The egg.”

  “Huh?”

  “You see, when I was a young priest, my first posting was in Morocco. I got to know the dragons pretty well. I couldn’t help it. They’re everywhere.”

  “They’re disgusting,” said Gerald with a wrinkled nose.

  The pope sighed. “Yes, it is their nature. But in this case, the egg is safe in his pouch.”

  “Percy has a pouch?” I asked.

  The pope and Victory nodded.

  “Victory, why didn’t you say something?”

  “I thought you knew. Percy has always had a pouch. He stores things in there like snacks.”

  “Weird,” I said, looking up at the imperious dragon. “So you didn’t eat it.”

  He gave me the stink eye.

  “Sorry. You can see how I thought that. You eat everything else, including Klitzeklein trolls.”

  The pope looked at Percy in horror.

  I shrugged. “It’s the only way to get rid of them.”

  “I suppose that’s true.”

  I flew over to Percy’s belly lump and asked, “Can I see it?”

  He snorted and then used a claw to pull open the pouch. The enormous egg was nestled deep in the pouch and heat radiated off of it. “It’s purple with red spots. Does that mean it’s a girl?”

  Victory walked down my arm. “I will ask it.”

  “You can talk to it while it’s in the shell?” I asked.

  “Yes, and I will tell it that it is the best dragon ever and the smartest and the most beautiful.” Victory leapt off my hand and landed on the egg.

  Percy snorted fire and tried to reach in the pouch to snag Victory, but his claws were too big and the pouch was hard to hold open. The dragon looked at me and I said, “Enjoy fatherhood. I’m sure she won’t be anything like Victory. Percy hissed and called Ovid over. The two of them went to work, trying to get Victory out of the pouch. It was a losing battle.

  I turned to Gerald, Volotora, and Pope Joyous.

  “That isn’t going to turn out well,” said Volotora.

  “At least Victory is small,” said Gerald.

  “I can’t think about it,” I said.

  The pope watched us quietly and I got nervous. “Um…Your Holiness, you’re here without guards? What about protocol?”

  “This is no time to worry about proper protocol.”

  Finally!

  “I thought you were meeting with your council. The sluagh said—”

  “Cardinal Orsino,” he interrupted.

  “Yeah, him. He said it’d be days before you figured out what to do about France and our family.”

  “Things have changed,” he said. “I have made many mistakes in the last few weeks. I have ignored the growing difficulties in France and Germany. I had hoped they would resolve themselves. The rebels and The Reich’s Fae have nothing in common.”

  “You don’t think those peace talks will work,” I said. “I’m not a fan of the rebellion, but they do believe in equal rights for all fae.”

  Gerald crossed his arms. “The Reich’s Fae don’t want rights for anybody but themselves.”

  “Nevertheless, the talks between them and the Jacobin faction are going well.”

  “I don’t get why they’d ever agree to anything,” I said.

  “My people tell me that The Reich’s Fae will help root out and kill all the royalists left in the country in exchange for broad latitude in trade agreements.”

  “That’s it?” I asked. “What’s to stop The Reich’s Fae from taking over once the royalists are gone?”

  “Nothing, and that’s what they’ll do,” said Pope Joyous. “This cannot happen.”

  “What about the Redcaps?” I asked, thinking of the horen, who was a part of them, although things were changing so fast, who knew?

  “The Jacobins took control and are much more radical than the phalanx redcaps.”

  The way he said “radical” made my stomach twist. “Did something happen?”

  “Yes. Both the king and queen have been put on trial for crimes against the people,” said Pope Joyous. “They have been convicted.”

  I couldn’t speak. I thought of Max and the empress. Queen Marie Henriette was their family. And what about the children?

  “What’s the sentence?” asked Gerald, shaking like he did when he saw a horen.

  “Death.” The pope took my hands. “I’m sending an emissary to the Loire Valley to negotiate with the French phalanx. I will allow them back into the Eternal City as a gesture of goodwill. I will invite them to talk here in the Vatican, where they haven’t been allowed in centuries. I believe this will make a difference and t
hey will intervene. The politics of the situation are difficult, so much hatred and pain going on for so long.”

  “What about my family? They don’t have anything to do with politics,” I said.

  “Ah, but they do. The rebels want you on their side. The Reich’s Fae want you on theirs.”

  “I’m not on anyone’s side but my own.”

  He smiled and ran his finger down my cheek. “They think they can control you, as I did.”

  “Good luck with that,” said Gerald. “No one controls us.”

  “That’s why I’m sending you to the Loire Valley.”

  “Me? That’s crazy. You’re supposed to do it. You have to talk to them.”

  “And I will when they come here. It has to be you,” Pope Joyous said. “You’re the one they want.”

  “They’ll capture me.”

  He laughed. “That won’t last long.”

  “It might.”

  “I see something in you. It is my gift to see potential. I saw it in Angelica. That’s why I allowed her to live. But I didn’t know what her potential was until you came and were immune. Matilda Whipplethorn, you are going to change the world.”

  I stepped back from him. I could see he believed what he was saying, but it was crazy. “I’m just Matilda Whipplethorn of Whipplethorn Manor. I should’ve never left the woods. It was an accident that I ever did.”

  “It wasn’t an accident. He made sure of it.”

  “But I don’t want to change the world. I only want to save my family.”

  The pope cupped my face between his weathered hands. “And that is why you will succeed.”

  THE END

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  A.W. Hartoin grew up in rural Missouri, but her grandmother lived in the Central West End area of St. Louis. The CWE fascinated her with its enormous houses, every one unique. She was sure there was a story behind each ornate door. Going to Grandma’s house was a treat and an adventure. As the only grandchild around for many years, A.W. spent her visits exploring the many rooms with their many secrets. That’s how Mercy Watts and the fairies of Whipplethorn came to be.

  As an adult, A.W. Hartoin decided she needed a whole lot more life experience if she was going to write good characters so she joined the Air Force. It was the best education she could’ve hoped for. She met her husband and traveled the world, living in Alaska, Italy, and Germany before settling in Colorado where she now lives with her family, a Great Dane, a skanky cat, and six bad chickens.