by Shae Hutto
“You trying to make me jealous?” she asked playfully.
“Never in life, macushla,” said Roger as he stood up with a grin and started dusting himself off.
“Your heart?” asked Amanda with a grin. Roger looked at her in guilty astonishment. “Hey, I saw Million Dollar Baby,” Amanda said when she saw his surprise. She looked from him to Claire who also bore a look of astonishment. “Shame, shame,” she said as her grin turned into a full-fledged smile. “I can’t leave you two alone for a minute.”
“Shut up,” murmured Claire with embarrassment. “Idiot,” she said to Roger and punched him in his arm. He rubbed his arm, looking slightly resentful. She apologized mutely by grabbing his hand and stubbornly holding it, refusing to meet his gaze. He gently tried once to pull his hand free, only to find that she wasn’t going to let it go. He grinned despite himself. Claire met Amanda’s eyes squarely, challenging her to say more about it. Amanda shrugged in acceptance and turned toward the cottage.
“Wait,” said Claire. Amanda stopped and turned back, her eyebrows raised in question. “Tell me about my brother.”
“Oh, yeah,” said Amanda with a sigh. “Turns out the little pest stole a dagger from the Queen some time back. It was from an abandoned city from some book. Or, rather, a world from a book. Wheel of Time or something like that. Anyway, the dagger is slowly taking him over. I haven’t read the book, so I don’t have a clue how to stop it. She might know, though.” Amanda gestured toward the cottage.
Claire thought for a moment that Amanda meant Auntie Ginger and shuddered in involuntary revulsion.
“She, who?”
“The female twin,” Amanda clarified, failing to give Claire any idea who she meant.
“You lost me, ‘Manda,” said Claire. Amanda sighed again, dramatically.
“You remember the firetruck from hell that tried to run us over?”
“Vaguely,” said Claire who had not had a firetruck try to run her over. “Wait, you mean the same one that somehow got itself parked in the Ramses’s cargo bay?” Roger nodded his head enthusiastically to indicate that yes, it was the same firetruck, and definitely yes, he remembered being chased by it.
“Not likely I’ll ever forget that one,” said Roger, who definitely had had a firetruck try to run him over.
“Right,” said Amanda. “Well, it turns out it was being driven by two twins. Sorcerer slash assassin types who were working for you know who.”
“Voldemort?” asked Claire incredulously.
“No, you moron,” said Amanda. “The Evil Queen. Earth to Claire, come in, Claire,”
Claire chose to ignore Amanda’s less than diplomatic comments. She thought for a second or two.
“So, how did the firetruck get on board a space ship?”
“Magic would be my guess,” said Amanda. “We can ask her, but I doubt she’ll give us many answers.”
“They were following me,” offered Connix who was listening to the conversation but had yet to try and participate. They all looked at him, waiting for an explanation. He shrugged his gargantuan scaly shoulders in a comically human manner. “I first noticed them when they were in that red vehicle. But when I started paying attention I noticed that they were using my exit points to follow me into different worlds. I didn’t care. At least not until they dropped in and tried to steal mein Eye.” Nobody seemed sure how to respond to that.
“Right,” said Roger uncertainly. “Thanks?”
“You found the Eye?” asked Claire.
“Indeed,” replied Connix.
“Yeppers,” said Amanda. “And I promised to give it back to his scaliness, here.” Connix snorted.
“You said ‘female twin,’” said Claire. “That implies a male twin. Where’s he?”
“Pushing up daisies in the Minotaur world, curtesy of your possessed brother,” replied Amanda.
“You went to the Minotaur world?” asked Roger. “Any sign of the Horn?”
“Let’s go inside,” said Amanda. “I think we can answer a lot of your questions more easily that way. The trio made their way into the picturesque but now dilapidated cottage.
“I’ll wait out here,” mumbled the dragon. Claire wasn’t sure if that was an attempt at humor.
Claire felt her skin crawl as they entered through the front door and she remembered being drugged by the crazy lady who had lived there. She recalled the fear that her brother had been eaten by the fiendish hag and had to fight down the anger that rose up inside her. Roger seemed to know what she was thinking and squeezed her hand reassuringly. She squeezed back and tried to smile at him. It was more of a grimace. She figured it probably looked like she had gas. Once through the door, she forgot about Auntie Ginger.
Claire was forced to release Roger’s hand to ward off a flurry of tail-wagging, exuberant, spotted canine love.
“Whoa, boy,” she said, laughing, as she caught Weenie in mid jump. She supported him awkwardly while he licked her face in ecstasy of reunion. Gently, she put him down and kissed his forehead, while his tail beat a wild rhythm on the floor.
“What about me, then?” asked Roger with his arms outstretched.
“Woof,” agreed Weenie and then leapt into Roger’s arms. Roger caught the Dalmatian and after a few moments of heartfelt embrace, he too put the dog down and kissed his head. He dug out some beef jerky and gave it to Weenie who began to wolf down the tough meat like he hadn’t eaten in days.
“Wow,” commented Roger. “When was the last time you fed him?”
“Oops,” said Amanda apologetically. “In my defense, we’ve been busy. And I haven’t eaten either.”
“Where’s this twin lady?” asked Claire as she peered around the gloomy interior of the little cottage. Amanda pointed to a heap of black in the corner and Claire approached it cautiously. The heap proved to be a woman with dark hair and smoldering eyes. Her pouty lips were even puffier than normal due to contact with Amanda’s body. The woman lay on the floor, no restraints apparent. Her hateful eyes followed Claire menacingly from behind a mask of dried blood and livid bruises. “Why isn’t she tied up or something?”
“She’s not going anywhere,” replied Amanda confidently. “Let’s just say that she has some traumatic injuries that preclude coordinated movement.”
Claire looked a little more closely at the woman on the floor and noted that one leg was bent unnaturally at the knee and an arm was both twisted backward and seemed to have too many joints. It was turning a nasty shade of purple.
“Did Nick do that, too?” she asked, concerned that her brother’s violent tendencies might be getting out of control.
“No,” replied Amanda happily. “I’ll admit I may have gotten a little too, ah.. enthusiastic in my dealings with that skank. But I enjoyed it.” The woman’s eyes dropped to the floor, refusing to meet Amanda’s vengeful glare. Claire watched her closely and noticed her lips seemed to be moving slightly, like she was silently mouthing something. She was also moving the fingers on her good hand in some sort of pattern. There was a sudden frisson in the air and Claire felt some sort of magic start to build. Amanda apparently noticed, too. She took two steps to the lady and stomped on her twiddling fingers. Claire heard at least one of them break with a snap. Amanda cheerfully kicked the woman in the stomach. The magic that was building abruptly burst like a soap bubble. The woman groaned involuntarily and retched as she doubled over as best as her injuries would allow.
“What’s this, then?” asked Roger from behind them, either oblivious to the violence or pointedly ignoring it. Amanda and Claire turned to see what he was talking about. Roger was holding a golden saxophone that he had picked up off the table where they had eaten a poisoned meal so long ago. “Learning to make a little music in our spare time, are we?”
“That little trinket is the Minotaur’s Horn,” replied Amanda as she took it from him and placed it firmly back on the table. “And it’s an instrument straight out of Hell. Let’s not play with the magical artifact, shall we?
”
“Fierce,” replied Roger.
“That’s the Minotaur’s Horn?” asked Claire incredulously, the twin forgotten for now. “I thought it would be… you know? Like a horn horn.” She put her fingers on her forehead to simulate bull horns.
“Yeah, well,” said Amanda. “If you had been there, you would have no doubt. Wait ‘til you hear this devil’s Horn played.”
“Don’t leave us hangin’, like,” said Roger enthusiastically. “Play us a tune, then.”
“I can’t play it,” protested Amanda.
“Stall the ball,” said Roger. “We have to have someone what knows how to play the poxy thing?”
“It is a musical instrument,” said Amanda like she was explaining something to a small child. “I would think knowing how to play it would be a prerequisite to actually making music come out of it. Wouldn’t you?”
“Wait a second,” said Claire as she dug in her backpack until she pulled out the book Intermediate Wand Magic, placed it on the table and started looking for something specific in it. “I remember seeing an enchantment in here that might be helpful.” Amanda and Roger both watched her with interest and a little trepidation. Amanda couldn’t help but think about Claire’s magically mismatched eyes. Roger was thinking more about the way Claire threw two men out of a window with a magical fiery lasso. Weenie looked at her more hopefully. Maybe she was going to conjure a steak. Claire seemed to find what she wanted and read the enchantment through several times, committing it to memory.
“Alrighty then,” she said and zapped Roger with her wand. “That should do it.” Roger jumped and let out a yelp of surprise.
“Oy!” he protested.
“Go ahead,” encouraged Claire. “Play us something.” Nobody noticed when Spanky put his little monkey fingers in his earholes.
Reluctantly, Roger picked up the sax and twiddled with the keys experimentally. He straightened the neck piece and put the reed in his mouth. He made a face and spit it out.
“Now I know what cow tongue tastes like uncooked,” he complained. Claire rolled her eyes.
“Get on with it, Liam” said Amanda impatiently. Roger shot her an irritated glance and put the reed back in his mouth, sucked in a lungful of air and blew. A horrid screeching honk exploded out of the sax. The discordant blast felt like a nail being driven through their ears. They clasped their hands to their heads, Roger included, and gasped in pain. Roger tossed the sax back onto the table.
“Your spell went arseways,” he complained. “Again. Or the thing is banjaxed. Either way, you’ll not get me to honk it again.” Roger crossed his arms in a show of defiance. Claire growled at the criticism.
“Perhaps it just doesn’t work on enchanted instruments,” she argued. “Or Irishmen,” she added snidely. “I think we’ll have to find an actual sax player.”
“How in hell do you expect us to pull a sax player out of our butts?” exclaimed Amanda in exasperation. “You told me to get the Eye, which I did. Nick said we needed the sax, so we got it. Now we have to find a musician? I’ve faced undead, pirates, assassins and freaking dragons! What’s next while we hunt for a band nerd? Midgets with machetes? What is it with you people and side quests? Let’s just go kill that Evil Queen and be done with it.”
“Calm down, ‘Manda,” soothed Claire who wasn’t used to playing peacemaker. “I have an idea. But first, you said you have the Eye? It’s here?”
“Yeah, it’s here,” said Amanda and reached into her bag and pulled out the gleaming cat-like eye the size of a bowling ball. Claire and Roger both took a step back.
“Careful with that thing,” chided Claire. “It has a tendency to suck you in.”
“Been there, done that. Got the t-shirt,” joked Amanda, her mercurial mood swinging back toward jovial.
“You agreed to give it back to tha dread beastie, did ya?” asked Roger. Amanda nodded in affirmation. “I surprised he isn’t in more of a hurry to get it back from you, then,” he said.
“I tried,” replied Amanda. “To give it back, that is. He said he can’t take it until he helps us defeat the Queen. He said something about the terms of a magical bargain.”
“So Connix, the fire breathing dragon who has tried to eat me several times, is magically bound to help us defeat the Queen?” asked Claire who was clearly a little shocked at the turn of events.
“Seems like it,” replied Amanda smugly.
“How’d you manage that?” asked Roger who was eyeing Amanda with a lot more respect than previously.
“Easy enough,” she replied offhandedly. “I saved his life and promised to give him his Eye back. Not every problem is solved with violence, you know.” Roger and Claire both glanced at the woman on the floor who was barely suppressing moans of pain from her several obvious broken bones; bones broken by this blonde Ghandi. Well, who were they to judge?
“I don’t suppose yer brother, Nick, can play that thingy?” asked Roger hopefully.
“No such luck,” replied Nick as he coalesced from the shadows, trailing otherworldly evil from his being like a metaphysical stink. Claire looked at him, a little horrified. She saw black specks swimming in his eyes. She felt like crying all of a sudden. Why was it always her brother who was in danger?
“Hey, Nicky,” she replied and gave him a hug, trying to ignore the skin crawling sensation his dark nimbus gave her. After a moment of hesitation, he hugged her back. The darkness retreated the tiniest bit.
“Hey, barf-breath,” he replied back with a sardonic grin as she squeezed him.
“Toad-face,” she replied with a smile.
“Aw, how sweet,” said Amanda sarcastically. “I hate to break up your little family reunion, but you said you had an idea?”
Claire hugged Nick more tightly, somehow hoping to hug the demon out of him and pointedly ignoring Amanda. He finally pushed her away.
“Idea for what?” asked Nick after he escaped from his sister’s grasp.
“To find a band nerd,” said Amanda as she stalked around the room, looking menacing in her read dress.
“Aren’t you the puss face this morning, like?” Roger asked rhetorically without turning to face Amanda. She heard him and pinched him on the butt, hard. “OY!” he exclaimed, slapping at her hand. He looked at her in irritation, his face a picture of annoyance. She stuck her tongue out at him.
“Cool it, you two,” admonished Claire. “Amanda’s right,” she told Nick. “We need someone to play this thing. And I think we should go get one. From our world.”
“I’m not riding Old Scaly again,” protested Roger.
“I don’t think he will just let us use him as a taxi, anyway,” agreed Amanda. “Just because he’s bound to help us defeat the Queen, doesn’t mean he’s a pack horse.”
“Actually, that never even occurred to me,” said Claire. “I was planning on using the corridors.” She looked at Amanda and Roger. They shrugged in near unison, then frowned at each other.
“Cool,” said Nick enthusiastically. “Let’s go.”
“I’m not sure we need to all go,” said Claire. “What good is a crowd of people going to do when one or two can take care of this pretty easily.” Weenie woofed softly in protest. “And a dog,” amended Claire. “And an alien,” she added hurriedly before Spanky could protest, too.
“You might need us to fight off death-bots,” suggested Amanda.
“You mean the rat parade and the Roomba?” laughed Claire. “I think we can handle it.”
“No, she means a metal monster armed to the teeth,” corrected Nick. “With a massive laser cannon for a hand.” He shivered in uncomfortable remembrance.
“What are you talking about?” demanded Claire. Nick and Amanda related their experiences with the robot chasing them onto the HMS Surprise. They took turns telling their parts of the story, while Roger and Claire gave each other worried glances.
“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” said Claire when they had finished.
“Self-protection
,” said Roger ominously.
“You know something, Rog?” asked Claire. “Something you need to share with the rest of the class, maybe?”
Roger sighed and looked uncomfortable. “Not death bots, no” Roger said. “But I noticed in my ramblings before I met you guys that the corridors get a wee bit defensive from time to time. The more you disturb the doors, the more strenuous the baytin, like.”
“Does this have anything to do with why you were hiding out on Inishtrahull Island?” asked Claire pointedly.
“Maybe…” he replied with a slight grin.
“But no death bots?” Amanda demanded.
“No death bots,” confirmed Roger.
“All the more reason to limit the size of our party,” said Claire decisively. “Roger, you, me and Weenie will go grab a band nerd, I mean saxophonist. The rest of you Martians hang out with Fire-breath out there. Try not to let the assassin lady escape. Or die. Or break any more bones. Any objections?”
There weren’t any.
“’Manda,” asked Claire sweetly. “Can I borrow your ray gun?”
“No.”
“Er, ok,” replied Claire, a little taken aback. “Just for a few…”
“No.”
Roger and Nick started laughing.
“No means no, Claire-bear,” said Roger between fits of giggling. Claire tried to smile but the effect was apparently a comical failure because Nick and Roger just laughed harder. Amanda looked unmoved.
“Fine,” said Claire. “Let’s go, Roger. Weenie!” The trio filed out of the cottage and headed for the corridor.
“Going somewhere?” asked Connix in a rumbling bass accented with sulfur and German. ‘Somewhere’ sounded more like ‘somevere.’
“Yeah,” replied Claire. “We’ve got to go find a saxophonist. Unless you want to give us a ride back to our own world?”
“I will it nicht,” he replied. “I could not even should I wish it. Connix can follow you to your world once he can feel you through contact with the Eye. But Connix cannot find your Welt with no guide.”
