by Tyler Jolley
Bait’s jar bubbled. “This isn’t a tomb. This is a resting place, like Ali stated.”
Tristan scurried along the rough stone floor.
“Careful,” Ali said, coughing. “Don’t knock anything over.”
Hundreds of red candles littered the floor, casting the room in a crimson glow. Dried, waxy puddles filled the spaces between them. A smoky haze lingered in the room. A clear and deliberate void in candles created a path, leading to a small set of steps and a platform. Ali’s eyes followed the platform up to what rested on top. A plain wooden box housed the corpse of the former vampire. From her vantage point she could only see the profile of his face and his hands resting upon his chest, along with a spike sticking out of his chest cavity. She swallowed hard.
Tristan pointed with his thumb. “So that’s the stiff?”
“Tristan, you are so rude,” Glenda said, stifling a giggle.
“Sorry.” Tristan shrugged. “Where are my manners? I should have said, that’s the stiff that was undead but now is super dead?”
“Better.” Glenda smiled.
“That is enough for now,” Chicaletta said. “We must not waste another minute on foolish banter.”
“Foolish?” Tristan was on his two hind legs and flung his arms into the air. He marched upright. “Well then, let me be the first to say hello to him.”
The rat continued to march until he was at the stairs. He scurried up all three, then onto the edge of the coffin. Ali jogged behind him. She heard Figgy’s hooves and Chicaletta’s feet pad against the stone behind her, both of them carrying their own stowaway friend.
A strong breeze forced a window open. Its wooden frame banged loudly against the wall. At least half of the candles extinguished in an instant.
“We need to hurry.” Ali tried to steady her words, but they still came out shaky.
“Human is right,” Figgy said.
She grasped the sides of the wooden box and stared into the vampire’s frozen, dead black eyes. Ali had never seen a dead body before, not even at her mom’s funeral. His pallor was whiter than anything she’d ever seen, even in the red candlelight. His black hair had been slicked back years ago, although a few strands had become loose and frizzy. He wore a dusty red suit and vest over a white shirt that had yellowed with time. In the center of his chest a wooden stake poked out. Dried blood had pooled and dried around the base of it. Black fingernails and blue lips were a stark contrast to his porcelain skin.
Tristan crawled on Gaspare’s chest and stood by his shoulder; he rested a pink hand on one of the fangs poking out of Gaspare’s lips.
“Glenda, come here. I want to see how your fangs compare,” Tristan said. He fell back in a fit of laughter. “Wow, this guy really is a stiff. He’s deader than a doornail.”
Ali touched Gaspare’s hand. It sent shivers throughout her whole body. “He’s so cold.”
“Alison,” Chicaletta said, “focus on the task at hand.”
“Of course.” Ali shook her head.
“The Nobil Fel—do you remember where Herning said it was stored?” Bait asked.
Ali didn’t answer. A chain from the right side of Gaspare’s pocket in the vest had already revealed itself. She gingerly pulled it until it was free from the slit. With trembling hands, she palmed the cool metal.
On the outside of the watch were swirls etched into the gold. She clicked the latch release on the crown of the watch, and the case’s body cover opened. Inside was the same scene she’d seen outside on the door of the castle. In place of numbers she saw a full moon at twelve, a small quarter moon at three, a half-moon at six, and a three-quarter moon at nine.
“Thank you, Gaspare,” Ali said. She turned to the group. She clicked the cover closed. “Now what? I don’t hear drums.”
Chicaletta nodded at Glenda. The bat flew to the corpse and landed on the top of the stake.
“Um, Mr. Gaspare, how do we get out of here?” Glenda asked. “Our expedition should totally be over.”
The wooden stake shifted under Glenda, then the whole room shook like an earthquake had erupted. Candles shook, and a few toppled over, but the abundance of wax quickly extinguished the flames.
“Ah!” Tristan yelled. “I’m sorry, Glenda! I was only teasing. I know you’re not a vampire! I take it back.”
Ali stepped off the platform onto the ground. She lost her balance and expected to land against the wall behind her. Instead, she stumbled down a few stairs—a secret room exposed. A small scream escaped her lips, then the shaking room stood still.
“Love,” Bait bubbled. “Where are you? Are you okay?”
“Yes.” Ali stood, dusted herself off. “I just fell down a couple stairs. Glenda, I think you triggered something when you moved the stake. There’s a hidden staircase. Chicaletta, will you bring me a candle? It’s pitch black in here.”
Chicaletta handed Ali one of the candles that hadn’t gone out.
“Glenda, you found our way out. Well done,” Chicaletta said.
“You’re bleeding,” Glenda said.
Ali’s face reddened. “It’s just a scraped knee. I get them all the time back home.” She wiped her palm on her ripped pants.
“Did you land on the watch, human?” Figgy asked.
“Oh no.” Ali searched the ground for it, realizing she’d dropped it in the fall. It had come to rest against the wall. The cover had sprung open. She scooped it up and examined it. To her relief the glass wasn’t cracked, and she clicked the case cover closed again. “It’s still intact. Thank goodness.”
“Shh,” Tristan said. “I think I hear something.” He walked to the edge of the stairs, tilted his head toward the darkness, and cupped his pink ear.
“I hear it too,” Figgy said. “The drums.”
Ali pointed her candle as far into the darkness as she could. Red wax dripped onto her boot.
“All right!” Tristan said. “How do we get out of here?”
They crowded down the newly discovered stairs to a small platform. On the opposite wall was an opening.
Tristan sniffed at it. “An elevator. Let’s get out of here.”
“That’s way too small to be an elevator,” Bait said.
Tristan strolled in and said, “Not for me.”
“I believe this is a dumbwaiter,” Bait said.
“I don’t care if it’s smart or dumb, as long as it gets me outta here.” Tristan walked out of the dumbwaiter with hands on hips.
“Oh, I’ve heard of these,” Ali said. “Tristan, it’s a small elevator used to transport food up and down.”
“It’s going to deliver me to a feast?” Tristan asked.
“I highly doubt it.” Ali shrugged.
“Maybe beets,” Figgy said.
Tristan stuck out his tongue. “Yuck.”
“The drums are beckoning for us,” Chicaletta said. “Let us take turns. Alison, Tristan, and Glenda, you go first. Figgy, Bait, and I will follow.”
“Sounds good to me,” Tristan said.
Ali entered with the two animals, closed a wooden door, and pulled a lever. The dumbwaiter shuddered but began to descend. The rope above creaked under their weight.
The drums grew louder. She slid the wood door open, and moonlight beamed into her vision. Cool, fresh air filled her lungs. She stepped onto the hard soil, relieved to be free of the castle. She turned and pushed the lever up to send the dumbwaiter back for the others. Within moments they were all together again.
“We did it.” She knelt and hugged Figgy’s neck and cupped Bait’s jar. A tear escaped her eye, making a line in her dirty face.
“Don’t be sad, love,” Bait said. “You’ll be back here in no time.”
Ali smiled but didn’t say anything, afraid she’d cry harder.
“That dumbwaiter is dumb,” Tristan said, turning to Ali. “It d
idn’t take us to any food at all. Dumb, dumb, dumb.”
The clouds had cleared, and the moon was full and bright. Chuwen stood about a hundred feet away. Ali took hold of Chicaletta’s calloused hand and rested her other hand on Figgy’s neck. Tristan scurried up her boot and rested in her utility belt; Glenda flew near Chicaletta’s shoulder. They walked in unison toward the high priest.
The small man stood with perfect posture. Candles surrounded him in a circle. He wore a black three-piece suit adorned with a black cape with red lining. His normally brown skin seemed pale in the moonlight. He held his gnarly staff with a sapphire the size of a grapefruit atop. He held out his hand.
“The Nobil Fel,” he said.
Ali took a small step forward and placed the pocket watch in his hand, careful not to disturb any of the surrounding candles. He opened it, then placed it in his own pocket.
“You have done well, all of you. Including you, Adventurous Ali. The obstacles you have overcome are incredible and together show your strength and tenacity.”
“What about Herning? And the Goose man?” Ali asked. “What happened to them?”
“Don’t worry about Herning. He is safe now,” Chuwen said. “He was a distraction for the Geese. His bravery will be rewarded. He has been released from his duties and may live a real and fulfilling life now that the Nobil Fel has been returned to me.” Chuwen paused, blinking slowly. “As for the Goose man, his feathers have been plucked and his life as a Goose man is no more. He must return to his ordinary life.”
Chuwen took a small red candle from the ground, blew it out, then placed it in Ali’s hands. “Ready?”
“Almost,” she said, turning to her friends. “I’ll miss you. Thank you for taking me on this adventure.”
“We totally couldn’t have done it without you,” Glenda squeaked.
“She’s right, love,” Bait said. “You were brilliant.”
“I’ll miss you, human,” Figgy said. He nuzzled his head under her hand.
“I’ve learned so much about my mom. I can’t thank you enough for that.” Ali bent and hugged Figgy and Bait. Then she gently petted Glenda.
“You have been brave, Alison. You are more and more like Eloise each day,” Chicaletta said. Then she embraced Ali.
“Tristan, won’t you miss me?” Ali asked.
He stood with his back to her; his shoulders heaved up and down. “Why does she have to leave?” he sobbed.
Ali picked him up.
“No!” Tristan pretended to struggle.
She hugged him in the crook of her neck anyway.
“I’ll see you soon, I promise,” she said.
“Bring me a pastry?” he asked, his yellow, beady eyes full of tears.
“I’ll try,” she whispered.
“It is time,” Chuwen said.
Ali placed Tristan on the ground and faced the high priest. He tapped her shoulder with the staff, and Alison Liv Isner was sent into darkness.
Chapter 14
Ali woke up in a pitch-black room. She heard a commotion but didn’t understand where she was. She blindly tapped the ground until she felt the edge of the metal desk in the storage room. Home.
After fumbling in the drawers, she found a flashlight and clicked it on. Just then her dad burst into the room, candle in hand. Ali used her free hand to feel in her pocket for the candle that Chuwen had given her. Her heart skipped a beat when she touched it.
“You’re back,” her dad said.
“Back?” Ali’s flashlight shook in her trembling hands. “What, um—I mean, what do you mean ‘back’?”
“Back,” he said. “In the back storage room. I couldn’t find you in the darkness.”
“Oh, right!” Ali hugged her dad.
“That ice storm came out of nowhere,” her dad said. “Lost power. I guess we’ll be eating by candlelight tonight.”
“Sounds good to me,” Ali said. “Turns out, I kinda like candlelight.”
“You need to wash up, little girl,” he said. “How did your face get so dirty?”
Ali looked down. Her adventure clothes had been replaced by her plain, ankle-length dress. But her hands were filthy, and she guessed her face was just as bad.
“I—I don’t really know.” Ali’s eyes shifted down and to the left.
“Tommy is locking up the store,” her dad interrupted. “I’m going to help him finish up. Then we’ll eat,” her dad said. He left.
Ali retrieved the box from under her bed with the rock from Honduras and the ruby from Egypt. She placed the candle next to them, then flipped open her mom’s journal to the Romania expedition. She stared at the fresh red stamp. It read: Accomplished 11/21/1935.
The End
Tyler H. Jolley is five foot sixteen inches. By day he is an orthodontist and by night he is a sci-fi/fantasy author. He carries a curse with him each day—too many fun book ideas and too little time to write them. There isn’t a place or time that ideas don’t slam into the creative squishy part of his brain. Fun facts: he hasn’t puked since 1996, he loves pencils, and mountain biking. Writing and riding are a big part of his life.
His debut novel, EXTRACTED came out in 2013 with Spencer Hill Press, and has been a Spencer Hill Press Best Seller, as well as an Amazon Best Seller. PRODIGAL and RIVEN, the second and third books in The Lost Imperials series were released in May of 2015.