by Ken Brosky
And boy oh boy, did he take his sweet time. I can only imagine what the two were doing in the relative privacy of the old narrow alleyway, but I suspect Seth was cashing in his rain check, so to speak. No worries on my part, although I couldn’t help but get the jitters. What if Seth was in danger? After all, she was the prince’s adopted daughter …
“Quiet, fool!” I told myself. “Be optimistic for once. For Seth’s sake!”
Yes, I thought, perhaps we could all enjoy a happy ending.
“Oh,” I whispered despondently. “But when has there ever been happy ending with these things?”
When they finally reached the doors, I was well out of the way on the other side of the narrow street, my eyes temporarily distracted by a variety of flaky pastries sitting in the display window of a particularly wonderful bakery.
“Oh!” Seth said. I turned back, smiling when I saw that he’d spotted the strange symbol:
%
“What the heck is that?” he asked.
Sanda leaned in close. “Hmmm. It’s a Wallachian ward.”
“Like … something with magic?” Seth asked.
Sanda shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
“Oh.” He stuffed his hands in his coat pockets. “Uh … you sure?”
The pretty girl simply nodded. Seth, quite confused, glanced at me with wide eyes. Eyes that rightly asked What do we do now?
I had no answer, and so was forced to shrug.
“We should return to the castle,” Sanda said quickly, hurrying across the street and walking past the cathedral without giving it another look. Her breath came out in quick, frustrated clouds of steam.
“Wait!” Seth called out, but the girl had apparently taken quite a dislike to the entire excursion, anxious to return to the limo waiting at the edge of the medieval quarter. Seth crossed the street, glancing longingly at her posterior before turning to me. “What the heck did I do?”
“I admit I’m at a loss,” I told him.
He sighed. “What the heck is the deal with that symbol, anyway?”
“Er … well …” My whiskers twitched. “Seth, it seemed quite possible that Sanda was lying.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I mean that given her body language and abrupt response … she seemed to recognize the symbol but was unwilling to tell you about it.”
To my surprise, Seth’s face hardened. “That’s crazy, dude. Why would she lie?”
“Perhaps she is protecting the prince?”
“No.” He shook his head. “You’re wrong. She’s awesome.”
“Yes of course, but …”
He turned. “I’ll meet you back at the castle. And I’m going to prove you wrong, Briar.”
I watched him go, sighing a melodramatic sigh. “Oh, I do hope so, my friend. I do hope so.”
Chapter 4: Alice
But as he approached the tree, a lion leapt from beneath it, shook himself, and roared till the leaves on the trees trembled. “He who tries to steal my singing, soaring lark,” he cried, “will I devour.” [vii]
Dinner. Gawd, how I was dreading dinner. My mind was reeling, trying to make sense of this new danger that the prince posed. Meanwhile, my stomach was telling my brain to just shut up, shut up, the food is way too delicious to worry about ancient evil and Corrupted and all that crazy stuff. Just eat the food.
And then there was everyone else. We’d splintered. The boys’ team sat on one end, outright ignoring us and talking heatedly with each other about a dozen different things at once. Their conversations were dizzying in speed, no doubt a side-effect of the Jump. Dejected by the day’s losses, the girls team sat on the other side, along with Sanda and Seth, the two of whom looked just about punch-drunk in love. At the head of the table was the prince, leaning back in his expensive chair with a bored expression, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. One gloved hand clutched a glass of wine. The food at his table sat untouched.
Mr. Whitmann and Mrs. Satrapi sat in the center of the long table, about as oblivious as adults can be in the secret lives of teenagers. And heroes.
“So,” the prince said in a low voice, his eyes square on the rambunctious boys at the other end of the table. “Tomorrow is your first test. Is this true?”
“Yup,” Chase said. He was already half-finished with his meal of duckling and mashed potatoes, dealing with his nerves by adorably trying to power his way through dinner so he could get out as quick as possible. I didn’t blame him, either—the prince looked different now, as if he’d been wearing an invisible mask and now that mask was off. And it creeped us out.
Excluding Seth, who was madly in love.
“Who will you face?” Vontescue asked, one black eyebrow raised.
“Mostly the Germans in the first round,” Chase answered. He shrugged. “A couple from the Romanian team. Japan, too.”
“And Slytherin,” Seth added, counting off on his fingers, “and the Galactic Empire, and Mordor, and the Klingons …”
Sanda giggled, pulling his hand down. I watched her watch Seth, wary. If what Briar said was true, then the girl was totally hiding something. But what? Why would anyone want to help the creepy prince?
Unless she was forced.
Or didn’t know the truth.
“Alice.” Vontescue’s voice seemed to cut through me like a cold blade. I shivered, turning to him. His dark eyes were on me. “Who did you draw in the first round?”
“A girl from Austria,” I answered slowly.
The prince wrinkled his nose. “Austria! A land of foolish kings, just like Hungary. Daughter, how many kings have the Vontescue family fought?”
“Seven, father,” Sanda answered. Happily, I might add.
“Seven kings,” Vontescue said, staring at his glass of red wine. “Seven who have trespassed on our land. Seven who have failed to take it.”
“Or close enough,” Sanda added.
My head snapped to her. “What do you mean?” I asked.
“One man managed to breach the castle,” Sanda said. “A Hungarian cleric. This was in the 1800’s. It took an army of the best knights money could buy, but they fought their way into the castle, surrounding the keep. The Vontescue family line has never been so threatened.”
I turned back to the prince. A foul sneer had infected his face. Boy, if looks could kill …
“What happened?” Seth asked excitedly. “Oh crap, I bet it was some craziness for sure.”
“The knights were killed,” Vontescue snapped, cutting his daughter off before she could answer. “Hundreds of them met their death that night. Not a single man penetrated the keep.”
“It is said that a foul disease spread quickly through their ranks even before they attacked,” Sanda said.
Vontescue sipped his wine. “The man who led them was no king,” he said in low, gravelly voice. His teeth ground together. “He was a nobody. A worthless cleric who thought himself more important than he truly was.”
“Do you plan on attending tomorrow, Mr. Prince?” Mr. Whitmann asked. He grabbed one of the rolls sitting on the plate in the center of the table, tearing the bread in half with his hairy thumbs.
Vontescue shook his head. “I fear my presence might cause a stir. There are many enemies of the Vontescue family, unfortunately.”
“Come on,” I said. “Just a few matches wouldn’t hurt.”
The prince looked at me. “I shall consider it. I would be more inclined to say yes if one could guarantee a win, but I fear from the looks on your faces that your team is not confident in its abilities.”
“We’ll put up a good fight,” Chase said, not looking up from his meal. He used his fork to cut up a chunk of duck meat, sliding it across the dark sweet sauce. He was so nervous; it would have been cute under different circumstances. “And we’ll do it honestly. That’s the most important thing.”
“How very … honorable.” The prince said the word with such contempt that I was pretty sure he’d throw
n up in his mouth a bit. “The sport of fencing knows honor well. Nay, its very history is one of honor. In the old days, a man would challenge another to duel over the smallest of insults. Voltaire, the famous philosopher, found himself the unfortunate recipient of a merciless attack by thugs and responded by training with a fencing master with the full intent of regaining his honor no matter the cost.”
“And he cut them up?” Seth finished.
Vontescue shook his head. “He was arrested before the duel and expelled from the country. It seems his enemies were not quite so interested in respecting his honor.”
“And his enemies won,” Sanda finished. “Is that the sad moral of your story, father? Hardly a story I would tell at dinner. Our guests deserve better.”
Vontescue glared at her, saying nothing.
“I’m done,” Chase said. He wheeled back from the table. “I’m going to sleep.”
“And how are the crutches I’ve provided?” the prince asked him before he could wheel his way around the table. I felt my entire body tense when Vontescue’s eyes landed on Chase. Not my boyfriend. Don’t even look at him, you bastard.
“They’re good,” Chase murmured. “I’m getting used to them.”
Vontescue turned to me. “Do keep it up,” he said in a low voice. “Your well-being is so important to Alice.”
For the first time, Chase looked at him. I could see his jaw clenching, his expression a mixture of anger and helplessness, as if he wanted to say or do something but didn’t know what. The prince ignored him, keeping his hold on my eyes, his gloved fingers gently spinning the glass of wine on the surface of the table.
“I’m going to take him down,” I said later, pacing beside my bed. “I’m going to draw a big sword—no, no! I’m going to draw a big trapdoor with spikes underneath. No! I’m going to draw a dragon that’ll eat him.”
“Hardly doable,” Briar murmured. He was lying on the bed, nibbling on a carrot I’d snuck from the kitchen. “Even if you could draw a dragon, I don’t think it would want to eat that terrible man.”
“Creature,” I whispered. “He’s a creature. Ugh, and why is the floor so cold all the time?”
Briar glanced down. “It’s wood covered by a very thin rug. A very thin expensive rug, I might add.”
I stomped and dug my heel into the soft fibers of the rug, right between two dark red swirling wave-like designs. “Here’s what I think of his rug!”
Briar’s whiskers twitched, then he hopped off the bed and followed suit, digging the heel of his big foot into the rug as well. We both chuckled.
“Well, now that that’s taken care of, I suppose we can go back to the states …”
I shook my head. “The Brothers Grimm tried to warn me about this guy, Briar. Me. There has to be a reason for it.”
“Yes,” he said, nodding briskly. “And the reason was to warn you. As in: get away from this terrible man. Run far, far away and never come back. Alice, I’m not sure how to tell you, but … I simply don’t know how to help you with this. As far as I can tell, the Malevolence is a force of evil whose history has been lost to time. He has covered his tracks well.”
“But we do know some things,” I said, pacing again and gently rubbing my shoulder. I hadn’t told Mr. Whitmann about my cuts or my rib. I hadn’t told him anything, and as far as he was concerned, I was healthy and ready to go for the match tomorrow. But I was anything but healthy. My shoulder was sore. My ribs were sore. The muscles in my legs had stiffened up overnight. The stress from Chase’s experience with the ghost princess had caused my face to break out. The cool air inside my room seemed to penetrate the muscles in my arms, giving them a dull ache.
“We know the symbols are Wallachian,” Briar said. “We know their origins.”
“And we know Sanda knows.”
“Yes, but Sanda doesn’t know that we know.”
“But Sanda knows that Seth doesn’t know.”
Briar’s whiskers twitched. “Say what now?”
“I don’t know either. Gawd, Briar!” I grabbed my hair, pulling gently. I was too afraid to pull hard because I was pretty sure my hair might just give up and come right out. And then it really would be the end of the world.
“Perhaps Sanda is not quite so knowledgeable as we suspect,” Briar said, rubbing his chin. He sat on the bed, crossing his legs. “You say she mentioned a time the castle was invaded by this mysterious Hungarian cleric … perhaps the Hungarians have some history on the subject. I shall investigate post-haste, but I may need to travel to Hungary to find any answers.”
“Do it.”
We looked at each other. I crossed my arms. Briar’s ears perked up. “Right now?”
I shrugged. “Do we really want to wait?”
“We!” The rabbit scoffed, hopping off the bed. “Hardly a ‘we’ situation, since you will be sleeping on your wonderful, comfy bed all night.”
“I’ll pack you a big meal.”
“With cookies?”
I nodded.
Briar stood straight, adjusting his vest. “Well. That changes things a bit.”
“I thought it might. BRB.”
“Say what?”
“I’ll be right back,” I clarified, pulling on a pair of thick socks. I left the bedroom, making my way through the creepy dining room and into the kitchen. When I turned on the light, I was surprised to see Sorin sitting at the cutting table.
Eating dog food. Or … what looked like dog food.
“I’m just getting some cookies,” I said. “Maybe some milk.”
“Ah!” he exclaimed, adjusting his dark sunglasses. Half-eaten brown chunks fell out of his mouth, causing my stomach to lurch. “Allow me. I know where all the best cookies are stored.” He started working his way around the big kitchen, reaching into stainless steel cabinets and pulling out various cookies. “Here’s oatmeal … here’s chocolate chip … here’s something that smells like cherries …”
“Great.” I opened the fridge, moving aside big slabs of meat to get at the solitary jug of half-finished milk. When I shut the door, Sorin was standing right there—like, seriously, right there. Close enough to count the little pocket scars from a decade of adolescent acne that I could just tell he picked obsessively at.
“Here you are,” he said. “Seven hundred calories or so. I’m good at these things. The prince has a very strict diet, you know. He must keep his body functioning.”
“I’ll bet.”
“But look!” He pointed to one of the seven colorful magnets sticking to the exterior of the fridge. Each magnet was for a restaurant in town. “Sanda, she can eat anything. She orders disgusting pizzas and sandwiches full of pickles and tomatoes and evil cheeses.” He made a convincing gagging noise. “She is a teenager and has a stomach of lead. But lead is not magnetic, did you know? Magnets only stick together on one side because they alternatively repel and attract. Very fun stuff. I know much more. I am useful to the prince, having so much knowledge. I got the gate outside to work again!”
“Clearly, you are a genius,” I said. “So ...”
He stood there, smiling.
“Right. I’m going to get a glass now for the milk. And you are ...”
“Going to bed?” he asked hopefully.
“Yes. Go to bed. Thank you for the cookies.”
He bowed low, leaving me alone in the kitchen. His plate of food was only half-finished.
Later in bed, I tossed and turned, reaching out blindly and hoping to find Chase’s arm or—better yet—his chest. But the bed was empty, and I felt empty, and my shoulder was sore and the room was cold and the night-light plugged into the wall needed to be about a thousand times brighter to keep the darkness at bay.
And here’s the weird thing: I didn’t exactly fall asleep. At least not right away. Instead, I simply closed my eyes and started breathing deeply, willing myself to sleep so I could get the danged hero’s dream over with. After a moment, I felt my body lift away, moving through the air.
Please be a nice dream. Please be a nice dream …
No such luck.
I was in a forest. Soft moonlight slipped in between the quiet pines. The moment I saw him, I didn’t quite believe it. I wanted to call out but it took all of my energy just to keep up, weaving between tall snow-covered trees like an out-of-shape predator. No wonder he’s survived so long …
“Briar, wait up!” I said, hearing my voice in my ears. The rabbit kept running. I floated behind him, losing ground. We emerged from the forest, traveling across a snow-covered farm field. Briar hopped over the fence, landing on the other side and sending up a plume of powdery snow. My body passed effortlessly through the wooden beams.
From behind us, there came a roar.
Briar turned, squeaked out an “Eep!” and picked up his pace.
“I don’t think I want to know,” I murmured, willing my body to spin in the air. The moon cast a dull, bluish glow over the edge of the forest, reflecting off the trees’ snow-covered limbs. For a moment, there was nothing.
Then they appeared.
Lions. Big, big lions that slipped out of the forest and burst through the farm’s wooden fence. Six of them, each with glowing golden eyes focused right on the delicious rabbit meal behind me.
“Run faster, Briar!” I shouted, stopping in the middle of the field. I’ll hold them off. No matter what, I’ll save my furry friend …
“Say what now?”
I turned. The dummy had stopped at the edge of the field, peering in my direction! I made myself visible and his eyes widened. “Don’t just stand there, slack-jawed! Get outta here!” I shouted.
“Right!” He hopped over the fence, kicking up snow.
I turned back to the lions. Two of them had already reached me and now, seeing me, had apparently changed their dinner selection for the evening. They both pounced at the same time, causing me to both scream in terror and lose control of my ethereal form. I held my arms out to brace myself, but they’d already disappeared.
The lions went right through, landing hard on the snow.
They got up, turning their heads left and right, their snow-covered manes shaking wildly. I slipped behind them, willing my hands to reach out and grab their tails. I pulled as hard as I could and they both roared, turning right into the path of two of their oncoming brethren. All four collided, kicking up snow and tempers. They pawed furiously at each other, rolling in the snow and snarling.
