by Lucia Ashta
“For what?”
“The others.”
What others?
Count Vabu walked through the portal, all alert features and blazing eyes, hands at the ready, to kill Maurisse, I presumed. He scoured the dungeon with piercing black eyes. Legend had it that vampires possessed remarkable eyesight, so it was possible he saw into the corners beyond where the light of the portal or the wisp o’ light reached. I identified the moment he concluded we were all safe because he frowned. He’d hoped to surprise Maurisse and exact his vengeance.
I couldn’t help but think he should have been relieved we were safe, not disappointed.
Clara came next. She walked through the portal looking beautiful despite hair whipped into a decent imitation of a bird’s nest. Then came Brave, who immediately scouted the dungeon space to ensure it was safe before pulling Gertrude through behind him.
Surely that was a big enough rescue party? But the portal continued to spark like fireworks.
Grand Witch Giselle strolled through the portal next as if she descended into the dungeons of evil masterminds every day. For all I knew, maybe she did. If the events of this day were anything to go by, anything was possible.
Her intelligent eyes whisked across Nando, Sir Lancelot, and me. Then on everyone who’d come through the portal before her. “Where’s Maurisse?” she asked.
Nando opened his mouth to answer, but became distracted as Trevor breezed through the portal and immediately turned to offer his wife a hand. When Delilah was through, she pulled Simon and Angelica across the portal, but no Nicholas yet.
Right away, Delilah was all business, wiping off the dust of portal travel then bringing her hands to her hips and examining Sir Lancelot and me, still huddled on the floor.
Giselle turned back on the portal and spread her arms wide. With muttered words I didn’t catch, she began to bring her hands slowly together until they met in front of her face. In precise imitation of her movements, the portal shrank. When it was little more than a handful of light, she snapped the fingers of both hands and it extinguished.
She spun around to face us again, dusting her hands off as Delilah had. “Ugh. This place is disgusting.” With no more than a lazy wave at the wisp o’ light, it quadrupled in size, throwing off enough light to reveal that she was entirely right about the state of our prison. “What is it with this man and his dungeons. Has he no more creativity than that?”
“That’s precisely what I said, Grand Witch Tillsdale,” Sir Lancelot said, wedging his way awkwardly from the place against my chest where I held him to stand on my knees, blocking my view and my face. I didn’t think the normally punctilious owl even noticed, and who could blame him? This day had been simply too much.
Giselle glanced at him. “Great minds think alike then,” she said, and I thought Sir Lancelot might faint from delight. I actually placed a hand behind him, just in case.
“Thank you, Grand Witch Tillsdale,” he crooned, but Giselle had moved on.
Hands on hips, she took control of the situation. “Why is everyone looking so happy?”
I didn’t think a single one of us looked happy.
“Where’s that ratbag Maurisse? I want to have some words with him.” From the way she said it, it was clear she wanted to have more than words with him, that she’d been looking forward to taking him down nearly as much as the vampire.
Nando looked to me, allowing me to choose how I described what happened. I hesitated, and Giselle jumped right in before I could answer her own question. “To think that fool actually believed he could hide the path of a portal from me.” She threw her head back in raucous laughter. Then she snapped her head back down abruptly, and the laughter ceased, not even a hint of it on her face. “He always did think he was the better magician of the two of us. The idiot. He believed all his minions’ groveling compliments.” She shook her head.
“Idiot,” she repeated. “So, where is he?”
I swallowed and opened my mouth. But Sir Lancelot beat me to it. “He’s dead.”
Giselle blinked at the owl. “Really?”
Everyone’s attention, including Nando’s and mine, were on the owl.
“Conclusively.”
Giselle shifted her mouth back and forth as she considered. “As little admiration as I have for the sorcerer,” she spit the word that alluded to his darkness, “I don’t deny that he has a certain level of skill. Enough, regrettably, that his death might not be as permanent as we’d hope.”
She called over her shoulder. “Enough with the long face, Vlad. You might still get your chance to kill the flea bag.”
“I would like that,” he said, serious as ever.
“No,” Nando started.
“Trust me, laddie,” Giselle said. “Maurisse has skills you’ve probably never even heard of.”
Well, that was likely. That didn’t change that he was truly and irretrievably dead.
“He’s definitely messed up in the head.” Giselle tapped her temple. “But he still possesses a certain level of intelligence, though I can’t fathom how it survived all his... diplomacy.” Her expression turned to one of disgust. It was no surprise that the witch didn’t appreciate the artificial ways of much of the elite. She’d probably tell the king as much if she ever met him, and I was kind of hoping she hadn’t, or else she was certainly on his enemy-of-the-state list.
“Yes, but—” Nando tried again.
“Just show us to his body.”
“That’s just the point, you see. There is no body.”
She blinked and took a second.
“What do you mean, there’s no body?” Clara was in the middle of asking when Giselle talked right over her. “Certainly there’s a body, even if it’s in pieces,” she said.
Nando shook his head, and Sir Lancelot cleared his throat importantly. Every head swiveled in his direction. “Lady Isadora killed Duke Maurisse, and there isn’t a speck left of him,” he announced, happy both at the news and the attention.
“That’s not... possible,” Giselle said.
And Gertrude said, “It can’t be.”
I hadn’t wanted to talk about what I’d done, but this was worse. “It’s possible, and it’s true,” I said, gathering all the strength I had to keep my voice from breaking. “I killed Maurisse, and there isn’t a piece left of him, no matter how small.”
“Trust her on that,” Sir Lancelot said. “Not even dust of the foul man remains.”
Giselle’s mouth dropped open for a quick second before she snapped it shut. Then she stared at me, and I desperately wanted to squirm as she examined me with renewed interest.
I refused to cower beneath her stare, although I realized that making me uncomfortable wasn’t her intention. There was little couth about the witch, and she apologized about none of her ways.
Looking me straight in the eye, she asked, “So he’s dead dead?”
I nodded.
“You’re one-hundred percent certain?”
“There is no way he’s coming back from what I did to him.”
Giselle stared at me for so long that sweat beaded on my forehead, even though I’d been somewhat chilled earlier. But I refused to look away. For now, my qualms about what I’d done were private, and I wasn’t sure I cared what she thought. She hadn’t been here to save us when Maurisse threatened to kill us. So who was she to criticize me now?
But I didn’t properly understand the witch, a point she made amply clear when she clapped and threw her head back in a true, genuine laugh. “So the wicked wizard is dead? How about that?” She laughed so hard that she wheezed and clutched at her stomach.
No one else laughed, but she didn’t care. She singled Count Vabu out from the crowd. “I guess you won’t get to exact your revenge after all, Vlad.” She shrugged. “Sorry.”
The vampire grumbled.
“Sinter got away,” Nando said.
Giselle’s attention snapped back to us like a hawk who’d honed in on its prey. “Sinter was her
e?”
“He helped Maurisse take us.”
She arched an eyebrow and told Count Vabu, “Maybe he could be the receiving party of your revenge. Surely he egged Maurisse on, that sleazy sorcerer always did aim for the worst.”
“Maybe” was all the count said.
Giselle shrugged again. “Suit yourself. Surely by now he’s in the wind. Now, Isa. It is Isa, right?”
I nodded.
“Tell me all about it.”
I groaned inwardly. That was the very last thing I wanted to do.
“Grand Witch Tillsdale?” Nando hedged.
“Yes?”
“Would it not be better to get my sister back to the academy first? The day has been longer than any of us would like, I’m sure, and the amount of magic she used left her spent.” Nando pulled up to his full height. “I’d prefer it if she were allowed to rest before recounting what to her was a traumatic experience.”
“I see.” I had the feeling the grand witch had forgotten what it was like to be a novice witch, or what it felt like to kill someone for the first time. She did what needed to be done without apology. From her behavior since walking through that portal, I assumed that included killing when it was warranted. “Very well. My curiosity can wait until we return to Acquaine.”
“Besides it’d be good to get back to help the others,” Clara said.
“True. That Walt boy was quite injured.”
Walt. My heart squeezed at the thought of him. I wanted to be there when he woke up, assuming he did, which he’d better.
“And we left Nicholas and two ghosts to deal with all those horses.”
Giselle waved the concern away. “Albacus and Malachai are as effective as ghosts as the average magician when he’s alive, they’ll do fine.”
Even though they couldn’t interact with the physical world?
“Nicholas can handle all the horses,” Trevor said, and it was the first time I heard pride for his firstborn son in his voice. Maybe there was more to Nicholas than what I’d seen. I hoped so at least; no one liked a snotty wizard.
I gasped. “Elwin,” I mumbled until I gathered my thoughts. “Maurisse dropped him when he was flying. When he took us, Elwin wasn’t moving. Please tell me he’s all right.”
Clara moved to my side. “Elwin is absolutely fine. He flew ahead to the academy to warn the others of what was happening.”
I exhaled slowly. “Thank goodness.”
Clara smiled. “May I help you up?”
I didn’t feel strong enough to do much of anything, but leaving this dungeon far behind was sufficient motivation. “Please,” I said.
“Sir Lancelot,” she said, “are you well enough to ride on my shoulder?”
“I think so, Lady Clara. I feel a certain sense of, hmm, panache for life now that the head of the Sorcerers for Magical Supremacy is gone.” He hopped to her shoulder with ease, and I wondered how much of his convalescence might have been for show. Still, he was too cute to mind any potential exaggeration.
With Sir Lancelot settled, Clara, with Gertrude’s assistance, helped me to my feet. I wobbled then steadied, and leaned into both women for support.
“Can you portal?” Count Vabu asked me.
How should I know? But I said “Yes” because I needed to get out of here. Away from the dark dungeons, away from the space where Maurisse’s memory still lingered.
“Good,” the vampire said. “Because we’d better hurry before that goblin in the corner gets any cute ideas.”
“Goblin?” I squeaked and swiveled my head furiously to look for the beast. But neither Clara nor Gertrude stopped moving forward.
Giselle began her murmured chants and brought her hands in front of her, clasped together. A rainbow of lights built beneath her palms, and before long, they grew so bright I had to squint. Then she tossed the ball of light ahead of the sisters who half carried me, and it sprang open. Like a pop-up hoop, with a wyap slapping sound, the portal sprang into place, circling and vibrating and sparking away.
Never had I seen magic so effortless or so smooth, not even from Mordecai.
I craned my neck to try to find Nando, but before I could at least make eye contact with him, Clara and Gertrude walked Sir Lancelot and me through the portal.
There was nothing I could do now. So I did the only thing I could. I relaxed and was thankful that Maurisse was dead and this fight might finally be over. At least there was a very good chance the day was about to end.
I closed my eyes to the dizzying sensations of light whizzing by and my stomach lurching as it lost its ability to distinguish up from down. I didn’t resist when the portal pulled at my body, preparing to deconstruct me before piecing me back together again.
I was getting the hang of this magic business. I didn’t fight the process... I was starting to think I might love it.
Chapter 7
We probably arrived in the parlor of the Acquaine manor seconds later, though it seemed more like hours. My stomach churned as if in a stormy sea, the kind even seasoned sailors were wary of, and I felt faint. But however I felt, I was at the Academy, and as relief whooshed in, I knew that’d be enough to make up for the physical discomfort of portaling here.
I looked up and noticed that Clara, Gertrude, Sir Lancelot and I weren’t the only ones in the parlor. Wizard Meedles and Madame Pimlish sat too close to each other on the settée, and I suspected they’d been sitting even closer before the portal sputtered to life and interrupted... whatever they were doing. Madame Pimlish’s face was flushed pink, and Wizard Meedles’ eyes scanned the entirety of the parlor before settling on us. Madame Pimlish re-buttoned the top clasp of her dress, and smoothed her skirt and her hair, which was mussed.
Ew. It didn’t take a detective to figure out that those two had been necking. Gross.
The giant of a wizard wrapped an arm around Madame Pimlish’s shoulders as if it were necessary to spare her from our scorn.
But we had bigger things to worry about than their inappropriate displays of affection.
Clara was the only one to give them a disapproving look, which surprised me, since she’d been nothing but gentle with me. I hadn’t expected her to be judgmental with our teachers, who’d apparently found love in the most bizarre of places. I couldn’t understand what the large man with a pack of hellhounds at his feet saw in the rotund, squeaky woman. Obviously, there was no accounting for taste.
But a moment later I realized that I’d misinterpreted Clara’s glare when she said, “You do realize that we were in danger while you were... doing your thing?”
Ah, why hadn’t I thought of that? Oh, that’s right, because life had been one non-stop ride of turmoil since I last stepped foot in this parlor.
Madame Pimlish dropped the demure act and scooted forward on the seat while remaining beneath Wizard Meedles’ arm, which she now wore as a badge of honor instead of shame. “How were we supposed to know you were in danger? For all we knew, you were taking your time riding back here.”
Not even I believed the mask of innocence the transformations teacher painted on her face for a few moments.
Clara blinked at her several times, and Madame Pimlish started to squirm before catching herself and stopping. She tried a different tactic. “With so much loss all around us, there’s even more reason to live the moments we have to their fullest.”
She sounded a bit like Arianne, and I supposed I agreed with the sentiment, though it was difficult to accept that while Maurisse had threatened our lives, and I’d had to kill him, they’d been smooching without a care in the world.
Clara just scowled at her and then at the wizard, who wouldn’t meet her gaze.
Ah, but I was tired, and I wasn’t in the mood for any of Madame Pimlish’s nonsense, not even another second of it. If they wanted to neck, then they could neck all day long for all I cared... as long as I didn’t have to see any part of it.
“I-I need to sit,” I said. I was having trouble standing.
�
��Yes,” Gertrude said. “Besides we need to get out of the way. The others will be right behind us.”
She and Clara led me over to the armchair on the other end of the parlor from the love birds, when Wizard Meedles asked, “Who was with you?”
He pulled his arm away from Madame Pimlish, who scowled but said nothing, and inched away from her and began to pet his hellhounds distractedly.
“Let’s see,” Gertrude said. “Trevor and his family, all but Nicholas, who’s coming with the horses. Marcelo, Vlad, Giselle, and Nando.” She looked to Clara. “That’s it, right?”
“I think so.”
Wizard Meedles stood, stepping between his hounds and rounding on us. “And what of Arianne, Gustave, Mordecai, the blonde girl and her brother? The dragon and drakes? And what of Albacus?”
That’s right. I’d forgotten that Wizard Meedles had taken off with his lover lady and hounds before we’d achieved any kind of resolution.
Clara ignored the entirety of his questions and focused on one point. “Are you telling us Grand-mère and Great Uncle Gustave aren’t here yet?” She shared a loaded look with her sister, who wore her same expression of concern.
“They’re not here. No one’s here but us, well, and the manor staff of course.”
“How is Holly?” I asked from the armchair, into which I sank farther with every passing minute. I could fall asleep right here.
The wizard’s face lit up. “She’s doing well, my good girl.” He looked down at his hounds, but I didn’t see her among them.
“So everything went well with the delivery?”
“Perfectly. She’s a brave girl. She didn’t even whine about her lost mate. She just brought his pups into the world with his strength.” He beamed as if he’d just become a proud grandfather. I doubted he saw much difference between the pups and human babies.
“Where is she then?”
“Oh, she’s resting while her pups suckle away.” He sighed contentedly, and I caught Clara staring at him with mild disapproval. I suspected she didn’t think he should be this happy with some of our own in potential danger. But I’d neutralized the main threat, hadn’t I?
