What? Sherlock lunged forward and snatched the soggy paper from her. That—That’s not mine. Someone must’ve left it here.
“Sherlock, it’s filled out with your name and ‘My office at the Apples’ house.’”
No, someone is playing a trick on me, I swear. I don’t like cats. Yuck!
Now everyone else was laughing, mainly because they saw how flustered Sherlock was in trying to cover his reasoning of requesting a subscription to a cat magazine, even if the rest of them couldn’t understand what he was saying.
Damn it, he muttered. I’ll be back. Gotta go burn this card.
But as Sherlock went up the hallway toward his so-called office, Maria leaned around the living room doorway and saw him slip the note through the mail slot before disappearing. All she could do was shake her head.
“That was Sherlock in a nutshell,” Gramps said to Freida.
“He’s seems nice for such an…odd creature.”
“He’s okay,” Maria said with a wink. “Now, what’s going on? Why are you back with a witch and not a Gnome?”
Gramps walked toward Maria and took her hands. “Our situation has become dire.”
“More dire than before?” Maria sat on the couch, her head spinning. “I find that hard to believe.”
“I wish it weren’t true,” Gramps answered. “Our friend Gelbus Cogspark may be in danger. Seeing how he is our one chance—aside from hiring a Willen to break into the Gnomes’ vault, that is, and that’s quite risky…never trust a Willen—we must get him out of said danger before it’s too late.”
“How does Frieda play into all of this?”
“She’ll be our guide,” Gramps answered.
Frieda bowed, her dark skirt flourishing. “At your service.”
“Frieda and I have worked out a deal. We can trust her,” Gramps said.
Behind him, Claire and Tabby made kissing noises. Gramps whirled around on them, and they shrank against the television, which was now showing a yogurt commercial with Jamie Lee Curtis talking about gut bacteria and her good digestion.
“Sorry, sorry,” Claire said.
“Yeah, please don’t turn us into frogs,” Tabby echoed.
Maria couldn’t help but smile. “Where are we going?” she asked once everyone settled down.
Gramps sighed. “I wish it was just me going, but I will need you, Maria. This will be no easy task.”
“Never expected it to be. So far, it’s been anything but easy. Giant spiders and blown up clown heads.”
The dark witch gave Maria an inquisitive look.
“Long story,” Maria answered, waving a hand.
“We are traveling to the town of Ashbourne. It’s a small fishing village not far from the Light Castle,” Gramps said.
“When you say ‘not far,’ do you mean like walking distance…or portaling distance?” Maria asked.
“Nearly everywhere in Oriceran is portaling distance.”
“Yeah, why walk when you can just portal?” Tabby said.
“Ooh, you should sell that technology to Google!” Claire squee-ed. “Make a killing.”
With a deep sigh, Gramps rubbed at his temples. “Magic is not for exploitation, nor is it something that can be learned by those who do not already possess some of the ability in their DNA. Google would not be interested in doing business with the magical community again.”
“Why not?” Maria asked, honestly curious.
“Long story.” Gramps waved a hand. “But since Google Plus never fully took off like they expected, they’ve been wary of dealing with magical folk.”
“You mean we had a hand in creating Google Plus?” Maria asked.
“Oh, we’ve had a hand in everything from The Rolling Stones’ success to the moon landing.”
“What the hell?” Claire said, amazed.
“That reminds me,” Gramps said, bringing a hand up to his beard, “I should give Mick a call. It’s been too long.”
“Mick as in Mick Jagger?” Tabby said. “Oh, my God, my mom loves him! Could you get me an autograph? If I gave her that for her birthday, I’d definitely become her favorite child.”
“I’m sure I can—” Gramps began, but Frieda cleared her throat and cut him off. “Right, we’ll see after our mission is complete.”
“Yeah, Ashbourne, right,” Maria said. “What exactly are we doing there?”
Gramps grinned, a slight amusement in his eyes. “We, Maria, are doing something not many people have done before.”
“The suspense is killing me,” Maria replied, twirling her index finger. “Go on.”
“We are going to slay a dragon.”
“What? No way, you’re messing with me.” Maria looked from Gramps to Frieda. There was no hint of a lie on either of their faces.
“No, no, I swear it.”
Now, Maria saw the expression on Claire and Tabby’s face. They were stark white, their eyes as big as plates.
“The Rogue Dragons were beasts raised by ancient evil. Long, long ago, they ruled over certain areas of the world. Those who opposed them were burnt to a crisp or eaten, and those who did not oppose them became followers of the Dragon’s rule. They are called Dragon Tongue,” Gramps said.
“Weird name.”
“Our friend Gelbus Cogspark was directed to the town by a Dragon Tongue. My guess is that they had heard of the Gnome’s firing from the library and hunted him down until they found him at Ves Ielan. And if Mr. Cogspark is in Ashbourne, there are only three possible outcomes for the poor Gnome,” Frieda said. She listed them off on her fingers. “One, he is being tortured until he spills the secrets of the raising of a Rogue Dragon. Two, he has already spilled the secrets and has been murdered by the followers. And last, the dragon has risen and swallowed the town whole.”
“So our prospects are looking pretty grim,” Maria said. “Sounds right up my alley.”
“Of course,” Gramps said, being the ray of hope in all the darkness, “there is another option… Gelbus held his tongue, and the dragon has yet to rise.”
Suddenly, Sherlock darted into the room, another slobbery piece of paper in his mouth. Maria took it mostly out of reflex, too lost in the idea of becoming a dragon slayer. If only her mother could see her now. She wondered if she would be proud. I’m doing the right thing. Of course she would be proud, Maria thought.
There it is. One Dog Prom invitation, Sherlock said.
Maria read the paper over and didn’t even bother to laugh this time. “Sherlock, this is a bill for the vet…for when you had to have your nip—”
Barking cut her off. Sherlock jumped up and snatched the paper back, chewing on it until it was nothing but a wet wad. Then he swallowed.
I don’t know what she’s talking about. I never had to go to the vet because anything went wrong with my nipples. What’s the point for males to even have nipples, you know?
Slowly, he was backing out of the room, his eyes searching everyone else’s.
“They can’t hear you, you do know that, don’t you?”
I promise. My nipples are all good. All in perfect working order.
“We both know that’s a lie. Don’t you remember when—” Maria said.
Can it, Maria! That’s it. Dog Prom is officially off! With that, Sherlock stormed out of the living room and back down the hall, softly growling to himself.
“It was never on in the first place because it’s a made-up thing,” Maria whispered to herself. She looked back at Freida and Gramps. “Right, okay, dragon, Gnome, crazy dragon worshippers.”
“Starting to sound like just another regular day in the life of Maria Apple,” Claire said, a smile on her face.
“I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a really weird thing,” Tabby said. She rubbed the bandage around her neck.
Maria shrugged. “Well, let’s go slay a fucking dragon.”
“Language, Maria!” Gramps snapped.
“Oh, please, we are about to do the impossible; I think I earned the righ
t to cuss a little.”
Frieda nodded. “I cannot argue with that logic, Ignatius, especially if what you told me happened here the other day was true.”
Gramps sighed loudly. “Fine. Let’s go save that fucking town!”
“That’s the spirit!”
Out of nowhere, using his stored power from being on Oriceran, a portal opened in the living room.
“Next stop, Ashbourne,” he said.
Maria caught eyes with Tabby and Claire. “I think you should sit this one out.”
Tabby shifted uncomfortably and Claire looked quite disappointed.
“You know, stick around here and report on any weird, ghostly spider legs. If things are real slow, head on down to Salem’s. I’m sure he will need some back up when the Griffins show up, questioning him about what happened with Malakai and all that stuff.” They were Maria’s best friends, part of her family. She didn’t want to risk another near-death experience, like the one that occurred in the ruined village of Dominion. “If anyone can hold ghostly spider legs off, you two can.”
Claire nodded.
Tabby came forward and threw her arms around Maria. She hugged her so tight that Maria could hardly breathe. Claire came over seconds later and hugged her, too.
“Uh…guys,” Maria choked out, “can’t…b-breathe.”
They let go.
“Just be careful,” Claire said.
“Yeah, don’t be stupid.”
“Carefulness and stupidity while slaying a dragon don’t really go hand-in-hand, I think,” Maria answered.
“You know what we mean.”
Maria smiled. “I do. But if I die, at least wait a few months before one of you guys goes after Joe.” She winked.
“Don’t even joke about that,” Tabby said.
“Sorry, sorry.” Maria turned and whistled toward Sherlock’s room. “Come on, fatty, time to go kick a dragon’s ass.”
Hm, Sherlock answered, coming around the corner faster than before, as much fun as that sounds, I think—
“There’s a Gnome in it for you.”
Do I get to pee on him?
“I don’t know what’s with you and peeing on things,” Maria said, bending down so she was eye-to-eye with Sherlock, “but if we slay a dragon and save this Gnome’s life, I’m sure he’d be honored to have you pee on him.”
Sherlock’s eyes lit up. What’s the situation on the food?
“All the dead squirrels and Raffins you can eat,” Maria answered. It wasn’t exactly a lie because she couldn’t be one hundred percent certain that there wasn’t an all-you-can-eat feast of dead squirrels and Raffins in Ashbourne. She had never been there. And if saying that got Sherlock to come along for the ride, then she figured no harm, no foul.
Fine, count me in. But if I miss my Dog Prom…
“Cool it with the Dog Prom, Sherlock. It’s not real.”
Neither was magic a few days ago, eh, Maria?
Maria narrowed her eyes. Behind her, Frieda said her goodbyes to Tabby and Claire, mentioning how it was such a pleasure to meet real-live Earth people.
“You got a point there,” Maria said to the Bloodhound. “If you can’t get a date to go with you, then you can take me.”
You mean it?
“Yes, but just as friends…obviously.”
Obviously. You’re with Joe now, and I like cat— Er, I mean, catalope…I like cataracts.”
“Real good save there, Sherlock.”
Thank you. I mean, I dunno what you’re talking about, catalopes is my favorite!
“I think you mean cantaloupe.” Maria emphasized the ’n.’
Sherlock brought a paw up and examined his claws. Maria…oh, sweet Maria.
“Don’t do that—” Maria started to say.
Anything is food if you’re brave enough. Including catalope.
“You’re gross.”
“Are we ready? Time is ticking on the other side,” Gramps said.
Maria stepped forward, but not before Tabby and Claire could wish her good luck. She thanked them and took one last, long look around her living room, taking in the TV playing some weird soap opera, the ratty recliner and even older and more worn flowery love seat by the window, the mismatched curtains, the 70’s shag carpet. I hope I come back. I’m gonna miss this.
Okay, Maria, of course you’re gonna come back. You’re an ass-kicking witch now, she quickly thought.
Gramps stuck out his hand, Maria took it, then she took Freida’s, and Sherlock came up behind her and caught the hem of her leather jacket with his teeth.
“Let’s go,” Gramps said.
“Woo! Slay that fucking dragon!” Tabby shouted.
“Tab,” Claire whispered, embarrassed for her outburst.
They stepped through the portal. It was the last thing Maria heard before she was sent to Oriceran.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The feeling of weightlessness, of traveling at the speed of light, that Maria felt the few times she had gone through a portal was stopped abruptly. Gramps had said that everyone experienced portaling differently; some get intense motion sickness, others get a euphoric feeling of being two places at once, as one foot catches up with the other. Maria normally seemed to be in the middle of these two extremes. If one could call portaling normal.
But now—now, something happened.
Something went wrong.
She heard high-pitched screaming drifting back to her. She heard Sherlock, barking and growling. She heard something thrashing.
She saw nothing…besides the darkness.
***
Suddenly, the breath was knocked out of her. “Oooh,” she moaned, rolling over. Her tailbone was throbbing. I thought Gramps said the landing gets easier. So wrong.
She felt grass beneath her fingers. It was short and stubbly, poking through her jeans. She opened her eyes, seeing stars floating around her vision, and something else—
The portal.
It was still open, but she no longer saw her living room or Claire and Tabby on the other side. Now there was just blackness.
“Gramps?” she looked around. Nothing. “Sherlock? Freida?” Nothing.
She then checked her satchel. The shape of the music box was there, but she opened it anyway and took it out, making sure it was all right. It was. Not even so much as a scuff. The music played as sweetly as ever.
“Where am I?” She scanned her surroundings. The grass only grew in patches because she was near a large mountain. One that stretched much higher than an Earth mountain. It wasn’t as tall as Mount Everest, but she reckoned it was close.
Not only was there no sign of her family, but there was also no sign of any civilization for as far as the eye could see. No towns, no villages, no rivers—didn’t Gramps say Ashbourne was a fishing village? She thought he did.
The portal still hadn’t closed. Maria put the music box back in the satchel and made sure it was securely closed, then she stood up with one hand on the hilt of her sword—the same hilt that had driven pretty hard into her side upon landing. Maybe she had to go through the portal again before it closed. Maybe something malfunctioned, and Gramps and the rest of them were still in the living room.
As she approached the portal, though, the blackness within shimmered. The sound of breaking glass filled Maria’s ear as something exploded through the portal. She brought her left hand up to shield her face while her right hand unsheathed the sword.
“MARIAAAAAA!” a horrible voice said.
Maria moved her hand away. From the portal stretched a spider leg as thick as the stump of an oak tree. It ended in a razor sharp point, as if sharpened by whetstone. From the leg came bristly black hairs that were as long as Maria’s middle finger.
“GIVE ME BACK WHAT IS MINE!” that voice said. Then the leg lashed out at her, seemingly coming for her heart.
It almost made Maria freeze.
Almost.
With one quick motion, Maria swung the blade. The metal was so light in her hand
that her muscles hardly strained, and the gleaming silver looked like a fan rotating at a thousand miles per hour.
The edge connected with the hard flesh of the spider leg with a clink.
Just like Malakai, she thought bitterly.
Whoever the leg belonged to screamed shrilly at the top of their lungs. Maria had cut the leg clean off. It tumbled from the portal onto the scrubby grass right in front of Maria’s feet.
The nub pulled back through the portal, and the portal snapped closed with a crackling fzzzt.
Maria took a step back from the writhing leg, her sword held up in front of her, just in case. She’d seen enough horror movies to know not to let her guard down.
But nothing happened. The spider leg didn’t magically sprout a body or jagged teeth—nothing like that. Instead, it just fizzled and crackled, much like the portal had done. Then it disintegrated right before Maria’s eyes; Malakai’s body had done the same thing.
“The Widow,” Maria said softly to herself. She prodded the ground with her sword in the spot where the leg had been. All she stabbed was dirt. The immediate danger was gone. Now she had to worry about where the rest of her group had gone.
She sheathed her sword and turned around. As she did, a scream rippled through the air, followed closely by barking.
“Sherlock!?” Maria shouted back. She took off running in the direction of the sound.
***
Maria found Gramps, Freida, and Sherlock under a nearby tree. It was mostly bare of leaves. The ones that had been shed were on the ground, deep purple and fiery red. Not like fall in Ohio, that’s for sure.
Gramps was half-laying, half-sitting against the tree trunk. Frieda knelt next to him, holding his hand. Sherlock was licking his face.
“Gramps!” Maria shouted and sprinted the rest of the distance, leaves crumbling under her soles.
“He is all right,” Freida said. “Took a nasty spill when we came out of the portal.”
One look at Gramps, and she knew it was more than that. His white and gray hair was all frazzled, his long beard twisted, with twigs and bits of leaves stuck in it. On his forehead was a deep gash.
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