Airships, Crypts & Chocolate Chips

by Erin Johnson

  The king scoffed. “Colin would have died years before had I not rescued him from that jail and taken him to the swallow. He owed me all those years he got, and his was my life to take away when I deemed it necessary. He died for science.”

  “You’re admitting eet.” Urs turned gray.

  Gunter Braun shook a finger. “He needn’t haf died. None of za ozers, neizer.”

  “They needed to die, because I said they needed to die!” The king’s face glowed red with his own anger and the light of the setting sun.

  I shrank back. His wild eyes showed nothing but madness.

  “When you are a king, you are put in charge of the lives of your people. You ingrates want all the privileges—keep us safe, build our city, provide us food and jobs. Bah!” he spat. “It goes both ways. I give and I take! And if I decide you need to die or spend your life rotting in Carclaustra, that’s what you do. You obey your king!” He thumped his chest. “And I am KING!”

  Hank shook his head. “That’s not a king. You’re a tyrant.”

  The king sneered at Hank, an ugly look. “You are nothing!”

  “Then make him nothing,” Horace goaded.

  Hank lifted his chin.

  The king snarled. “Bow to me.”

  Hank squared his shoulders. “Never.”

  “Bow!”

  “Make him bow!” Horace spat.

  Whose side was he on?

  The king’s lip curled and maniacal light shone in his eyes. As the last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon the king drew out his wand and leveled it at Hank. “By my blood and bones.”

  “No!” I screamed.

  “I disown you!” A flash of light emitted from the king’s wand and a rush of wind swept through the room.

  26

  Cut Off

  Hank dropped to his knees, his shoulders heaving. I ignored any consequences and rushed forward, leaping over the bodies of unconscious soldiers. I dropped beside Hank and wrapped an arm around him. His shoulders shook.

  “Are you okay?”

  He nodded, though he didn’t look up.

  I lifted my chin and bared my teeth at the king. “You’re a bully and a murderer! How could you do this to your own son? And I—” I frowned as I glimpsed Francis grinning from ear to ear behind the king. “Why are you smiling like that?”

  He chuckled and the king and everyone else turned to look at the vampire. His shoulders shook and he pinched the bridge of his pale nose.

  Rhonda clicked her tongue. “Baby, you okay? You seem to be having a maniacal laughter breakdown at a real weird moment.”

  Horace snickered, then broke into a full belly laugh.

  “What in the wide waves is happening?” Iggy muttered.

  My brother wiped a tear from under his deep-set eyes and let out a long breath. “I suspect, Hank, you will find that you still have your powers.”

  Gasps sounded around the room.

  “Hank, do you?”

  He straightened and looked at me, then at his hands. He turned his palms up and two twin balls of light formed in them. He jerked his head up, his eyes round with shock. “What is—how is this possible? He disowned me—I felt it.”

  “Yes, he did. Father of the year.” Horace dipped his chin while the king paled and recoiled. “But way back when, the swallow gave you a different source of power than your bloodline. So while you’ve lost the magic that runs through your veins due to genetics, you still have the powers the swallow gave you, which are the only ones you’ve ever known.”

  “You mean…?” Hank blinked.

  “That’s right.” Horace grinned, his pale eyes full of light. “Ever since the swallow healed you, you’ve been free of your father’s control. I think he suspected as much, which is why he’s always feared and hated you. And why he hesitated to officially banish you before this moment—I think he knew it would only confirm that he had no control over you.”

  “And now,” Francis grinned, his fangs glinting in the torchlight, “I too am free.”

  The king jumped and whirled in his seat. “What are you saying?” he growled.

  Francis floated up and over the heads of the seated royalty and landed in front of the king. “I’ve been bound to your family’s line in the same way as your children ever since your grandfather’s time. A slave to your every whim.”

  The king snarled.

  “For over a hundred years I’ve searched for the exact spell your grandfather used to bind me—the devil is in the details, as they say.”

  I lifted my brows. Guess that was one saying that crossed over.

  Francis narrowed his black eyes. “I couldn’t figure a way out of it unless I knew the way in. Turns out, the spell forbade me from finding it, which is why I never did. But over the years you’ve ordered me to kill and to hide your messes and dirty deeds. I got around your orders with technicalities. If you told me to make sure no one ever learned of something, I didn’t destroy the evidence—I hid it.”

  He rotated to me and Hank, his toes dangling just above the mosaic tiled floor. “You two found my hidey hole, as Sam would say, the other day.”

  I gasped. “That was you who came in?”

  He nodded. “I felt it, in the magic that binds me. I’d broken a pact; someone had seen all these things that no one was ever supposed to see. So I had to scare you two out of there.”

  Francis swiveled to Horace. “I have evidence to contribute to your case against the king.” He turned and nodded at Madeline as well, who grinned. She’d pulled out her own pad of paper and quill and wrote alongside the magical one that scribbled next to her head. Lots of good stuff to get down, apparently.

  “So that’s how Colin ended up in the attic?” Hank asked.

  Francis nodded. “The spell forbade me from telling any of you any secrets. But still… I am sorry.” He sighed. “And it forced me to tell the king all your secrets… if he asked. I did my best to stay out of your prison plot, but Horace—”

  “I made him a deal. The spell for his involvement. I wanted him to tell the king. I wanted you all to get caught. I wanted this, all of it.” Horace sighed. “I needed it. The truth has been a long time coming.”

  “How are you free now?” I tilted my head at Francis.

  “Ah, right.” Francis grinned. “When Horace entered, he gave me the spell and I read it, quickly—vampires are fast.”

  “Very.” Rhonda winked and bit her lip.

  I frowned. “And that’s a good thing? You know, I don’t want to know.” I waved it off.

  “And I found a technicality. I got the king to bind me to Hank, and was cut off from the bloodline when Hank was.”

  I grinned. “That’s why you two were egging him on.”

  Francis showed off his canines and Horace gave me a slight nod.

  My brother turned to the king. “I think that about wraps up what I came here to say. Your actions have shown you time and time again to flaunt the law, kill at will, and generally act in a despicable manner. Ready to turn yourself in?”

  The king’s face reddened and he gripped the arms of his throne.

  “Not quite ready?” Iggy snarked.

  “I do not flaunt the law.” The king shoved to his feet. “I am the law!” He pounded the throne. “Now!”

  Every entrance burst open and armed guards in golden armor flooded the room. More than we could possibly take on, even with Francis and Horace. The princesses screamed and Queen Edith fainted… again. The king swept his hand at Francis, Horace, Gunter, Hank, and all of us bakers. “Kill them!”

  My heart stopped.

  Wiley yanked Maple to the ground and Yann tackled Annie and Sam. Lances flew over their heads.

  “Imogen!” Horace barked it out.

  I looked up in time to see a lance flying straight at my chest. I froze, a deer in the headlights. Hank tackled me from the side. As I landed, my temple slammed against the cool stone floor. Hank fell on top of me and cried out. In the blink of an eye Francis’s pale face
hovered above me.

  “Stand,” he commanded.

  Francis pulled Hank off me and I gasped as I noted the lance embedded in his ribs, blood soaking his shirt around the wound. His head lolled against his chest.

  “Hank!” I shrieked. The world tilted as dizziness overtook me. Horace appeared at my side and slid his arm under mine. I turned my blurry gaze toward him.

  “Hang in there, sister.”

  I reached out. “Iggy.”

  “You really want that thing?” Horace frowned.

  “I’m not a thing!” Iggy bellowed from his lantern on the floor.

  I blinked and the world came back into focus. Horace scooped up Iggy and dragged me towards the portal mirror. Francis stepped through with Hank in his arms and Rhonda riding him piggy back. I looked back. My friends dashed toward us. A guard fired a spell that headed straight toward Sam, but I reached a hand out and blasted it away.

  I heard Urs’s deep voice. “Schtop zis! Call off za guarts!”

  Even Cas, always a daddy’s boy, was shouting at his father. “Dad, this is madness! Hank’s been hit! You need to stop!”

  But the attack didn’t stop. I blasted a lance away from Maple right before Horace dragged me and Iggy through the mirror. It felt like I’d stepped through a cool shower of water.

  And suddenly it was pitch black, except for the light from Iggy and the green cast of the swirling portal mirror.

  “Where are we?” Rhonda looked around and lit her wand as Francis gently laid Hank down.

  I left Horace to kneel by Hank’s side.

  “You may want to look away.” Francis didn’t wait before he yanked the lance from Hank’s side. Blood spurted from the wound and I caught sight of something white. Francis pressed his hands to the wound.

  My stomach lurched and I turned away, afraid I might be sick.

  “Was that a rib?” Iggy muttered. He spewed a vomit of ash.

  I covered my mouth and turned back to Hank. It was hard to tell in the dim light but he looked pale—Francis-level pale.

  Screams made me look up. Maple, Sam, and Yann vaulted through the mirror, followed immediately by Wiley and Annie. Wiley spun and kicked the mirror over as a lance slid through behind him. The mirror fell over and shattered, cutting the lance in half.

  “Did everyone make it?” Wiley looked around.

  I glanced left and right.

  Sam sniffed. “We left Amelia behind.”

  Francis looked up from tending to Hank. He ripped his tuxedo jacket into strips and wound it around Hank’s middle. His head rolled and his eyes fluttered.

  I moved closer. “Can I help?”

  Horace glanced at Sam. “Your friend will be fine. It’s all out now. I sent the newspapers all the testimonies, including Gunter’s. And the Bear and Prince Caspian at least seem willing to stand up to the king.”

  A strange hoot sounded nearby. Maple jumped. “Where are we?”

  Annie, Wiley, and Yann lit their wands, giving us more light.

  Horace grinned and in the light, his deep-set eyes receded into shadow. “Welcome to the Badlands.”

  “Oh goddess,” Annie murmured.

  As my eyes adjusted to the light, I took in our surroundings. The cool, moist air sent goose bumps prickling up my arms. A dense canopy of green arched overhead, and Hank lay cradled in the twisted roots of a massive tree. I shifted closer to him, grateful for his sake that the ground was soft and mossy. Strange animal hoots and calls sounded around us. Were those the noises of monsters?

  Horace walked over, his footsteps quiet on the soft ground. I glanced up, then looked back at Hank. I felt I was watching the life drain out of him and my chin trembled.

  Horace knelt beside me as Francis worked to slow the flow of blood.

  “He dove in front of that lance. It would’ve hit me.” Tears poured down my face.

  “I know, sister.” Horace blinked. “Which is why I owe him this much.”

  Horace shifted and reached for Hank. Francis looked up and hissed, his needlelike fangs exposed. I lurched back, shocked.

  “Just showing everyone your O face, huh?” Rhonda crossed her arms. “I thought that was private.”

  Everyone groaned, including me.

  Francis’s face relaxed. “Apologies.” His voice came out as flat and airy as ever. “I suppose I’m a bit on edge. But if you hurt him, you die.”

  I blinked. I guess. Then again….

  I rounded on my brother. “If you hurt him, you die.”

  The vampire straightened and floated out of the way to let Horace in. Hank twitched, a cold sweat on his forehead. I wiped it away with my palm and kissed his hairline. “Please be okay.”

  Horace held his hands over Hank’s wound. “You know how I keep telling you you’re capable of more than you know?”

  I nodded, uncertain. “Yeah….”

  “Well, not all the things you should know are spells of mass destruction.” He closed his eyes and his hands glowed, subtly at first, then brighter and brighter. Hank’s side glowed as well. The blood stopped seeping through Francis’s makeshift bandages and I gasped. I hardly dared to hope but—could Horace heal him?

  Horace blew out a long breath and the glow faded, leaving us again in the dark.

  “Is he okay now?”

  My brother gave a lazy blink. “He won’t die. At least from this. The forest is teeming with monsters, so I can’t make any promises.”

  I gently tugged the makeshift bandages down as the others gathered around Hank and gave me light. Tears welled in my eyes as I took in what lay beneath. The six-inch gash had sealed and was now pink and clean of blood. Though the skin around the cut was black and purple with bruising, it was clear that this was no longer a mortal wound.

  I leapt to my feet and threw my arms around Horace. “Thank you, brother.”

  He stiffened and kept his arms at his sides, but didn’t fight me off at least. He was going to get hugged and well—he probably wasn’t going to like it, but it was happening. I grinned as he reached up and patted my shoulder a couple of times.

  “All right. Enough.”

  I let him go, though I couldn’t hold in the huge grin that spread across my face. “You know, you never stop surprising me. Every time I think, nope, there’s no way he could redeem himself after leaving me to die on a volcano or inside a prison, you come through somehow.” I grinned. “You saved Hank. I—thank you. A thousand times, thank you.” I opened my arms wide and came in for another hug, but he held his hand up and stopped me. Well, fine then.

  “Do you hear that?”

  We all froze and listened. The hoots and small rustles in the trees overhead had ceased. It was quiet. Too quiet. My eyes widened and my heartbeat picked up.

  A large fern behind Yann rustled, then another on the opposite side of our group behind Wiley. My head whipped one way, then the other.

  A smile tugged at the corners of Horace’s full mouth, his hooded eyes cast in shadows. “That’s my cue. Good luck.”

  In a blink, my brother disappeared.

  Maple cried out and Wiley jumped. “How did he—”

  Sam pointed to the forest floor. “Sssnake.”

  A black snake with thin blue stripes slithered away from the spot where Horace had just stood, into the mossy underbrush.

  I scoffed. “Is he serious? Did I not just say, every time?” I turned to face my friends and Hank, whose brow was now smooth and dry, though he continued to sleep.

  Yann shook his head and Annie snorted. “He’s a piece of bread, that one.”

  “Yeah.” I planted a hand on my hip. “And what did he mean by—”

  The ferns and bushes all around us rustled and dark shadows jumped out. My heart froze. White eyes and wand tips glowed all around us, like twinkling stars set among the greenery.

  “Hands up,” a low voice commanded.

  My eyes darted up. Whoever they were, they even hung from the branches overhead, their wands all pointed at us. We were vastly outnum
bered.

  I gulped and lifted my palms along with my friends. I let out a shaky breath and belatedly finished my sentence. “—good luck.”

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  A note from the author

  I’ve always dreamed of being a published author, and to realize that dream, and have people like you actually read my book—I can’t tell you how much it means to me. So, truly, thank you.

  If you enjoyed the story, and you’d like to help me as an author, please leave me a review on Amazon. It doesn’t matter how long or short, a review is the very best way you can help me stay in business and keep writing. Plus, you’ll help other readers discover Imogen and her adventures.

  Thanks so much,

  Erin

  About the Author

  A native of Tempe, Arizona, Erin spends her time crafting mysterious, magical, romance-filled stories that’ll hopefully make you laugh. This is her sixth book.

  In between, she’s traveling, napping with her dogs, eating with her friends and family, and teaching Pilates (to allow her to eat more).

  Erin loves to hear from readers! You can contact her here:

  erin@erinjohnsonwrites.com

  Copyright © 2018 by Erin Johnson

  All rights reserved.