by Clayton Wood
But that’s where the cliché ended…and the unusual began.
For although the main portion of the castle had its foundation on the stone of Dragon’s Peak, much of it was supported on huge mushroom caps at various elevations below this. Long, elegant skybridges connected each of these to the main part of the castle. And while the castle had plenty of windows, it also had many window-shaped paintings where windows would’ve been expected to be. What’s more, there appeared to be parts of the castle that were hovering in the air, connected by skybridges and supported by nothing more.
It was all quite fantastic, and Bella found herself having to remember to close her mouth on several occasions. Gideon clearly noticed her expression.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” he said.
“You created all this with a book?” Bella breathed, glancing at Grandpa. Grandpa chuckled.
“Never underestimate the power of a story,” he advised. “Stories are the language of minds and hearts…and Havenwood is a story from when my heart and mind were young.”
“Huh?”
“A haven from the most powerful and insidious force of all,” Grandpa explained. “Public opinion.”
“I didn’t miss your riddles,” she grumbled. Grandpa smiled, stopping in the middle of the bridge crossing the moat.
“Have you ever felt…strange, Bella?”
Bella glanced at Gideon, then back at Grandpa. She nodded.
“Hmm,” Grandpa murmured, scratching his beard. “Why?”
“Because I don’t fit in,” she answered.
“Go on.”
“I like drawing creepy things like bone dragons,” she continued. “I’m not…normal.”
“But why?” Grandpa pressed. Bella shrugged.
“How should I know?”
“Ah ha!” Grandpa exclaimed, his eyes brightening. “And there it is. That is the right question!” He leaned in closer, arching an eyebrow dramatically. “And I’ve already told you the answer.”
Bella crossed her arms, giving him an annoyed look. Grandpa chuckled turning to Gideon.
“She looks just like her mother there, doesn’t she?” he said. Gideon nodded.
“I used to dread those glares,” Gideon mused.
“Art!” Grandpa cried, lifting his arms to the heavens. He beamed down at Bella. “That is the answer. The ‘how.’”
“Art is how I’ll know why I’m not normal,” Bella stated. “That doesn’t even make sense!”
“Tell me, when you draw a sketch, or paint a painting, do you want someone to watch you do it?”
“No.”
“How do you feel right before you show it to someone for the first time?” Grandpa pressed.
“Like I want to crawl into a hole and die,” Bella confessed.
“Why?”
“Because it’s…personal,” she answered.
“It’d better be,” Grandpa agreed. “All great art is. Your art is you, Bella. Pieces of your heart and mind…”
“…lost to the ravages of time,” Bella recited. “Right.”
“You do listen,” he proclaimed, not without a hint of pride.
“I listen to everything you say,” Bella replied.
“Well that’s mildly terrifying.”
“She certainly doesn’t get that from her mother,” Gideon interjected with a smirk. Grandpa ignored the comment, clearing his throat.
“You see Bella, people have this awful compulsion to fit in,” he continued. “The Terrible Force of Public Opinion,” he added, clearly capitalizing the words, “…compels us to be less like ourselves and more like everyone else. We lose bits and pieces of our souls, and bury them deep within ourselves. Art is excavation, Bella. Art is self-discovery!”
“So I don’t fit in because…I’m not like everyone else.”
“Because you’re too yourself,” Grandpa corrected. “And neither your classmates, nor Mrs. Pittersworth, would accept you until you conformed. Until you sat in your chair all day like a good little zombie, dutifully pretending to care about things that have no meaning to you.”
“That’s why he didn’t want you to go to school,” Gideon piped in. “But there is value in fitting in, Thaddeus. And in developing discipline.”
“Water has value in proper portions, and when put in its proper place. But too much is poison, and in the wrong place we call it drowning.”
Gideon smirked.
“I’m not going to even try to win a battle of words with you,” he stated. “But I think we’re boring my poor daughter. Care to see the castle, Bella?”
“I’d love to,” Bella replied. “Um…Dad,” she added.
“You said that like it felt weird,” Gideon noted.
“It did feel weird,” she admitted. “Would you be offended if accidentally called you Gideon once and a while?”
“Not at all,” he replied with a smile. He offered his arm, and Bella hooked hers in his, continuing across the bridge to the other side of the moat. There were colorful fish darting about in the water, which was crystal-clear. Bella turned her gaze forward, seeing the entrance to the castle ahead. There were no guards, nor people, really. Everything seemed…empty.
“Where is everyone?” she inquired.
“Inside,” Grandpa answered. “We’ll have to make an appearance, I’m afraid. After that, we’ll get down to business.”
“What business?” Bella pressed. Grandpa gave her a mischievous grin.
“The Collector hunted us for ten years,” he replied. “I think it’s about time we repaid the favor!”
Chapter 27
Piper sat at the edge of his bed in his small room in the eastern wing of Castle Under, watching as Kendra smoothed non-existent wrinkles from the silky black cloak she’d been given. The Cloak of Ascension, the official garment worn by those who had earned the right to ascend to the great upside-down castle in the sky. Kendra’s work at Blackthorne – fifteen years of faithful service – had finally paid off. She smiled at him, giving him a little twirl.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“It’s a robe,” he answered.
“Come on,” she complained. “I worked hard for this, Piper.”
“I know, I know,” Piper conceded. “I’m happy for you hon.”
“Are you?”
“I mean, I’m happy you’re happy,” he clarified. “It’s just…you know what I think about all this crap,” he added, gesturing at the robe. The cloak, rather.
“Pomp and circumstance?” she inquired, arching an eyebrow.
“Where I come from we call it ‘bullshit,’” he groused.
“Well now, usually I’m the killjoy,” she mused. “Honey, I think I’m rubbing off on you.”
He gave her a wicked grin.
“I’m all for that,” he told her. She rolled her eyes.
“Later.”
“That a promise?” he pressed, standing up from the bed and sauntering toward her. He used his best swagger, reaching up to cup the sides of her face in his hands.
“Depends on what character you’ll be playing,” she replied with a smile of her own. He leaned in, kissing her gently.
“I was thinking of playing myself,” he admitted.
“Oh,” she mumbled, lowering her gaze.
“Really? Wow.”
She broke out into a smirk, lifting her gaze to his.
“You’re not the only one who can act, you know,” she teased. “If you’re you, I’m in.”
“If you’re in, it’ll only be a matter of time ‘til I am,” he quipped with a mischievous grin. She ignored him, leaning in to kiss him again. Piper savored the moment. It was, for that brief moment, like old times. But eventually Kendra pulled away, giving him an apologetic look.
“I gotta go,” she told him. “Don’t want to keep the Collector waiting.”
“Alright.”
“See you soon,” she promised.
And with that, she gave him one last kiss, then left.
* * *
Kendra followed the Collector as he guided her ever forward and upward through the maze-like corridors of the Castle Under, the marble floors cool under her bare feet. She felt rather naked in the silky black cloak he’d given her to wear, though it covered her from the neck down. It was all she’d been allowed to wear, the thin fabric unable to hold back the slight chill in the air. But she hardly minded. After all, the Cloak of Ascension was the mantle of those who had earned the right to work within the mysterious halls of the Castle Over, the upside-down castle. And after so many years, she’d finally joined their hallowed ranks.
It gave her goosebumps.
She smiled to herself, staring at the Collector’s back as he led her up yet another flight of stairs. He strode with utter confidence, wearing his usual black suit. She’d never seen him wear anything else, she realized. It had to be magical; not for the first time, she wondered what power it held.
The Collector was a mystery, and Kendra adored mysteries.
No one knew much about him. He was as opaque as his suit, never talking about himself. He revealed not a trace of weakness, not to his allies or his enemies. He spoke little, preferring to communicate through his actions.
And his actions were legendary.
Kendra had a crush on the Collector, of course. Who wouldn’t, after all? A harmless crush – she had never strayed from her husband, and couldn’t imagine doing so – but Piper’s abilities as an Actor made for a tempting scenario. Not that she’d gathered the courage to make the request.
Yet.
The Collector slowed, then stopped, having reached the Demon Gate. The only way to the inverted castle was through the Collector’s office…and the only way to his office was through the huge black stone door.
Its eyes opened, its great mouth opening without question.
“After you,” the Collector stated, gesturing her to step through.
She did so, having no fear of the door. The truly loyal had nothing to fear. Passing through, she found herself in the familiar waiting room, Miss Savage in her perennial spot behind the desk there.
“Miss Savage,” Kendra greeted, inclining her head. The woman gave a little smile, nodding back.
“Kendra,” she replied. “Congratulations on your promotion.”
“Thank you,” Kendra stated. The Collector continued forward, opening the door to his office and ushering Kendra through. They stepped around his large desk, continuing to a door on the opposite end. This was locked; the Collector produced a large key, inserting it into the lock and turning it 90 degrees.
There was a click.
The Collector pulled the door open, gesturing for Kendra to step through. She did so, finding a spiral staircase corkscrewing up a huge tower beyond. She craned her neck, looking up; the stairs led upward as far as the eye could see. This, she realized, had to be the tallest tower of Castle Under. The tower that led to the very top of the castle…and to Castle Over.
She glanced back at the Collector, and he gestured for her to lead them upward. So began the long climb up the tower, the stairs spiraling ever upward and rightward. Long after her thighs and buttocks had started to burn, they reached the very top of the stairs…but not of the tower.
For there, extending as far upward as she could see, was another spiraling staircase. One entirely disconnected from the first…a perfect mirror-image. There was only a horizontal bar set a good six feet up near the edge of the stairs they were on…and a drop to the stairs below beyond.
The Collector pushed past Kendra, then reached up to grab the bar with both hands.
“Step back,” he ordered.
She did so, and he began to swing like a gymnast, back, then forward, then back again, each time gaining momentum and height. He swung forward again…and kept rotating until he was upside-down.
And dropped onto the landing of the staircase above.
Kendra stared up at the Collector, standing upside-down on the upside-down staircase. She realized they must have reached the top of Castle Under…and the very bottom of Castle Over. The mirror-image castle had reverse-gravity, and the bar the Collector had swung on had to be right in the middle of the two.
She stared up at the long, spiraling staircase above, then at the sheer drop below. Without her Painter’s uniform, she felt uncharacteristically vulnerable. If her grip slipped, or she tripped…
“Trust me,” the Collector insisted, giving her a reassuring smile.
Kendra gave a weak smile back, taking a breath in, then jumping upward and grabbing the bar. It felt slippery in her sweaty palms, and she gripped it so hard her knuckles turned white. She began to swing, backward, then forward, picking up momentum.
And as she reached the border between castles – on the backswing – she felt the world shift.
She cried out, holding on to the bar with a death-grip as she continued to swing backward around the bar. Within moments, she came to a stop, the staircase she’d been on above her, and this new gravity pulling her down to the landing the Collector stood on.
“You can let go now,” the Collector instructed, unable to hold back a smirk.
Kendra hesitated, not at all trusting that she wouldn’t “fall” upward the minute she let go. But she obeyed, and sure enough, she dropped to land at his side.
“Ladies first,” he prompted, gesturing for her to continue down this new stairwell. The idea that she was really going up them was disorienting. Round and round they went, spiraling downward until they reached the bottom of the great tower. This led to a room identical to the Collector’s office, at least in its dimensions. The furnishings were different, however. The desk was larger, with books stacked upon it. And there were more books on tall shelves lining the walls.
“You second office?” Kendra inquired.
“My study,” he corrected.
He led her through it, to a room identical to the waiting room in Castle Under. Then down a great long hall. Every corridor, every door exactly the same as it was below. But the hallways were utterly deserted. There were no guards at the doors, no Painters milling about the premises. No paintings on the walls.
Nothing.
The Collector was silent as they walked, and Kendra felt increasingly uneasy with it.
“Thank you for the promotion,” she said.
“You earned it.”
“I didn’t know if I would get it,” she admitted. The Collector gave her a questioning look. “After Gideon managed to escape,” she explained. “I’m sorry I…”
“Of course he escaped,” the Collector interjected. “He’s the great Gideon Myles.”
Kendra grimaced.
“Yes, well,” she grumbled. “Something’s been bothering me about what happened back in Blackthorne. It’s probably nothing, but…”
“Go on.”
“When Stanwitz and Piper found Thaddeus, he was already dead,” she explained.
“He was old, or he committed suicide,” the Collector reasoned. “To avoid working for me, of course.”
“Maybe,” she stated. “But the girl seemed to know not to trust Piper and Stanwitz. That worries me.”
“She was probably taught not to trust anyone.”
“Yes, but there was something at the scene that was…odd,” she confessed. “I went to Thaddeus’s apartment the day after he was found dead. There was a painting hung above his desk.”
“And?”
“It was a live painting,” she revealed.
The Collector stopped in his tracks, turning to face her.
“Really,” he murmured. “Tell me about it.”
“A graveyard scene,” she told him. “Set at night-time. Some tombstones…and a lot of empty space in the foreground in front of them.”
“You think something was drawn out,” the Collector guessed. She nodded.
“The more I think about it, the more convinced I am. Thaddeus was clever, and Gideon managed to hide in plain sight in Blackthorne for almost ten years.”
“You t
hink he painted it?”
“He could have,” she answered. “It wasn’t his style, but he’s smart enough – and good enough – to change it up.”
“What are you thinking?” the Collector pressed.
“Well, when Piper found Thaddeus’s body, it was already cold,” she stated. “But not at all stiff. And it didn’t smell.”
The Collector’s eyes narrowed.
“You think the body was painted,” he realized. She hesitated, then nodded.
“It’s possible.”
“Which would mean that Thaddeus Birch is still alive,” the Collector reasoned. He stood there, staring off into space, his fists clenching, then unclenching. Kendra lowered her gaze.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I…”
“You’ve done well,” he interjected, turning to her. He put a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve done very, very well. Thank you, Kendra.”
She nodded silently.
“You’ve more than earned your promotion,” he declared, giving her a rare smile. “Come,” he added, continuing forward. “I want to show you something.”
He led her through the maze-like castle, every hallway and room as empty as the ones that had come before. Eventually they came to a narrow hallway, one with windows on the right and left. Kendra looked out of them, seeing a lake far below. She gazed upward, seeing another lake. A reminder that she was upside-down.
She felt butterflies flit around in her stomach.
The Collector led her to a narrow wooden door. It was quite plain, without a doorknob or handle. The only adornment was a human skull embedded into its center, level with the Collector’s head. The skull’s eye sockets were twin voids, its mouth open in an eternal scream.
“Here we are,” he announced, stopping before the door. Kendra arched an eyebrow, eyeing the skull.
“Charming,” she replied.
“Death is nothing to fear,” he counseled. “I’ve learned that from paintings.”
“Excuse me?”
“When you send your Familiar into a canvas, it ceases to be,” he explained. “It doesn’t think, or feel. It’s as if the world pauses.”
“And?”
“I imagine that is what death is like,” the Collector mused. “Like the time before you were born. Nothingness.” He eyed Kendra with his striking green eyes. “Does your Familiar fear the canvas?”
