The four of them rose and made their way glumly across the grounds to find Master Galan waiting for them outside of his laboratory. He had them each performing different tasks while he attempted to create a new concoction to cure Dropsy ― a strange condition that had afflicted Veerasin earlier in the day. Her face, arms and ankles suddenly swelled up while she was working in the kitchens. She had a strange bite mark and she said she thought perhaps a spider had bitten her. Grim couldn’t help but wonder about that.
Quinn interrupted Master Galan as he mumbled to himself.
“What is going to happen to the Gargoyle?”
“Hmm?” he said, pulling his head up from a large book in front of him. “Oh, yes, well I suppose he will be tried for murder. There hasn’t been such a murder in Madam Malkim’s. Master Cobblepot is studying the city laws on the matter. Madam Malkim is a city magistrate and will be overseeing the trial herself.”
“Murder?” Grim said. “Does that mean Valeria’s dead?”
“Gargoyle petrification has no known cure. She will remain stone for eternity. She is as good as dead.”
Treena peered around the corner from the large vat she was cleaning. “And what if it wasn’t a Gargoyle that petrified her. Could she be cured?”
The old man frowned. “Do you think someone else petrified her?”
“No,” she said, “but what if it wasn’t Dorian? Is there a cure?”
He shook his head. “There is certainly none that I can speak of.”
“What if he is guilty?” Quinn asked.
“I do not know,” he replied. “It’s possible he will be sent to Gravenhurst to serve his sentence.” Master Galan hung his head. “And likely they will turn him to stone.”
“He couldn’t have done it,” Rudy said. “He’s too kind.”
“Who can speak to the hearts of the wicked.” The old man’s eyebrows furrowed. “I think we’ve done enough. I will take things from here,” he said, and dismissed them so that he could see to other matters.
The next day word went around that Aunt Patrice and Madam Phoebe had returned from their trip to the Rowanwood. It reminded Grim that he needed to speak to his Aunt of his suspicions about Festrel. The boy may have left, but she still needed to know. He felt anxious about facing the old woman, but he knew he had to do it.
Then, on their way to chores with Madam Adelaide, more news showered upon them with the light drizzle that saturated the air. Eevenellin had been appointed as the new assistant to Master Galan — taking over for Valeria Bellow. She was also Madam Malkim’s Head Orphan, a new position since the death of the Sylph. Madam Malkim wanted a closer eye placed on the comings and goings of her orphans.
The four friends inched their way across the grounds, their feet dragging. They had been up late again discussing how to deal with what they had learned. Yet, they had no solid proof of anything.
Rudy was the most troubled. “Now we have to be extra careful. Those books have to go back right away. Eevenellin has the right to inspect our rooms at any time. We could get caught trying to find her out.”
“Do you really think she would have done it?” Grim asked. It didn’t make any sense.
“Maybe she held a grudge against Valeria. She got the new role as assistant,” Treena suggested. “And it’s not like Grundels have always been good. They’ve been known to tunnel a little too deeply into the Hawshorn Mountains, if you know what I mean.”
“No, what do you mean?” Grim asked, but the conversation ended there as they approached Madam Adelaide. The brawny woman waited for them with scrub brushes by the Academy wall. She looked foul.
“Let’s begin,” she grumbled, towering over them. Treena trembled under the woman’s gaze. “Today the walls on the north side need scrubbing. I’ll need someone at the top of the tower to scrub off the bird droppings,” she said, and handed a bucket and brush to Treena. “And I’ll need someone who’s a little more agile to climb up and take care of the windows.” She handed Grim another bucket and a brush. “The other two can help.”
The stone wall glistened with moisture and was heavily coated in green moss. He pulled out his rod with the grappling hook and fired it. It took seven attempts before it finally took.
There were cracks between the stones so Grim inserted his feet and tried to pull himself up the rope. He didn’t get very far. His feet and hands slipped and he fell to the ground with a thud and a grunt. He tried again, over and over, and every time the result was the same; with a little more groaning each time. It didn’t help that Quinn was screaming out instructions to him, suggesting everything under the sun.
“Put your foot on that stone! Step on that large metal spider web! Put your feet in that dark crevice! Stand on that slimy moss!”
Grim almost screamed at him that he didn’t need advice from someone that could barely climb a ladder. He just grunted a little more in frustration.
Madam Adelaide harrumphed and flicked dirt from under her fingernails.
“I see I was mistaken about you ― not as agile as I thought. Close to useless, actually, just like your friends.”
She dismissed them all and assigned them further sewer duty for later in the day.
Grim massaged his hands as he headed to clean soiled bed sheets. His fingers were scraped from trying to scale the wall and he was hardly looking forward to cleaning the sheets on the ribbed washboards. He always caught his knuckles on them.
He marched across the grounds in a foul mood, ready to go something very close to Banshee on anyone who might cross his path. He couldn’t wait to run into someone like Gorkin or Ninnipence. He nearly growled when he heard his name being called out, but bit back his frustration when he saw that it was Finneas Keltin. He hailed Grim, huffing and puffing as he ran to catch up to him.
He stopped to catch his breath. “Please come with me,” he panted. “Your brother is not well.”
“Which one?”
“Sam.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“I think you should just come with me. Madam Patrice will explain.”
Grim followed him across the grounds and some of the students whispered as he passed. Finneas ushered him through the door of the Infirmary where Aunt Patrice waited for them.
“Where’s Sam?” Grim asked.
“Come with me, dear,” she said, and guided him to a bed that was surrounded by curtains. Sam lay in it with Toby nestled next to him. Rudy was already there, tears running down her face. She ran up to Grim. He hugged her.
“Is he okay?” he asked.
She shook her head as they approached the bed.
“Sam,” Grim said. “Are you all right?”
“Sick,” he muttered. His face and arms were covered in misshapen brown splotches.
“What’s wrong with him?”
Rudy continued to sob.
Aunt Patrice shook her head. “He woke up this morning with this strange rash and was bed-ridden.”
“What is it?”
“We don’t know. We’ve never seen anything like this before. And we’ve seen bite marks on Sam’s leg.”
Bite marks?
“Master Galan and Master Cobblepot are checking the books. We’re doing everything we can.”
Rudy stopped crying and sat down on a chair beside the bed.
“How do you feel, Sam?” Grim asked, and reached towards him.
His Aunt stopped him. “Don’t touch him.”
“Is it contagious?”
“We don’t know,” she said. “We’ve looked over some others. We can’t seem to find the twins and we’re looking for Ellenova.”
“Will he get worse?”
“I’m afraid we don’t know that either.”
Aunt Patrice turned as Madam Zelna swept into the room. She was a Goad like Madam Sloan ― barbed tail, horns, and all. The thin woman zipped between tables and shelves, grabbing elixirs and mixing them together. Half of her face was sinth. Aunt Patrice had to change locations to keep up with the
speedy woman.
Sam shifted under the covers and coughed until he gagged. “Toby,” he whispered.
“Don’t worry, Sam. We’ll take care of him,” he reassured him.
Aunt Patrice returned.
“Have you sent a message to Dad and Pop?” Grim asked.
The old woman nodded.
“Can we stay with Sam for a while?” Rudy asked.
“Madam Zelna wants to examine him some more. Come see him tonight,” she said and shuffled towards the door, attempting to chase after Madam Zelna once more.
“Aunt Patrice, there’s something —”
His Aunt waved him off. “Another time, dear. I must see to helping Samsonite now.”
Grim reached over to touch his brother, to offer him some comfort as he squirmed on the bed, but Rudy grabbed his hand. Grim awkwardly withdrew it.
“We’ll come back and see you later, Sam. Get some rest,” Grim said.
“Scarlet...,” Sam muttered, and dozed off.
“What does he mean?” Rudy asked.
Grim looked at Sam’s leg. “Scarlet may have done this,” he said. “He has bite marks. She bit me as well.”
“But that’s not like her. She’s been visiting me almost every night and she never bit me,” Rudy said.
Grim shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s just a guess.”
He took one last look at Sam as he rose. In one of his little hands Sam lightly held the figurine of the woman with the umbrella that their dads had given Grim. He picked it up and took it with him. He hadn’t noticed that it had gone missing.
Rudy left for her chores in the kitchens, but Grim couldn’t bring himself to wash dirty bed sheets. He’d likely pay for that later with extra sewage duty, but at the moment he didn’t care. He needed to think. So he made his way back to his drafty room, hands in his pockets.
His fingers brushed the pocket watch his dads had given him. He pulled it out and sighed, wondering if his parents would come once they received word of Sam’s condition. Perhaps they could take them all out of this wretched place. It made him look forward even more to the Anniversary, which was now only a week away.
As he stepped into his room, Grim caught a glimpse of Eevenellin dashing past. She ran down the corridor and swept down the stairs. Grim poked his head out the door and saw a couple of metallic legs as something disappeared down the stairs after her.
Scarlet!
Grim chased after her and as he rounded the corner he heard metal feet skittering across the floor. Then he heard the heavy sound of grating, like something was scraping along the wall. He stepped out and barely caught the painting of Lord Occularis Green sliding back into position just as Scarlet dashed through the opening.
Grim rushed to stop it, but it clicked into place before he could reach it in time. He felt around the painting, searching for a switch, a handle, anything. There was nothing, not even an indented stone. He tried to pry it from the wall. It refused to budge.
He stepped back.
How did it open?
He examined the painting.
Lord Occularis was dressed in silver and he stood at the forefront of a vast desert. Yet what was odd about the painting was that there was a single, spindly tree off to one corner, and on it were three green leaves.
Lord Occularis Green ― Keeper of the Night.
Grim stared into his green eyes. They were made of glass. They weren’t painted on.
He waved his hands in front of the eyes. They blinked. But the painting remained still.
He looked into the eyes. It blinked again.
Curious.
He studied the painting further and noticed the three green leaves. They were the exact same color as the eyes, and the only green on the painting.
Then he had a thought. He needed something green. Grim looked along the hallway and saw nothing.
Green. Green. Something green.
Grim reached into his pocket, fumbling. Then he pulled out the green scarf from Quinn and waved it in front of the glass eyes, three times for the three leaves on the tree.
Lord Occularis winked this time and Grim heard a click. He stepped back as the painting slid across, revealing a black entrance and a staircase that spiraled downwards.
“Keeper of the Night,” he muttered.
A gust of stale, howling wind blew in his face giving him a slight chill.
Then Grim descended into the catacombs.
The passageway was still, nothing to be heard except the slow, grinding sound of the painting sliding back into place. It clicked loudly behind him, sealing him in the dark.
That was dumb.
Now he was locked in the dark with nothing to light the way.
Grim groped his way down the stairs until he reached the bottom. To his left he caught a faint glimpse of blue light down the hall, so he discreetly followed with his hands guiding him along the walls.
Down the corridor he crept, the light ahead of him constantly remaining on the edge of visibility. It made numerous turns that Grim struggled to follow. Onwards he traveled, always trying to keep the light in his sight. Then the light ahead of him disappeared. Grim ran to where it vanished and discovered a winding stone stairwell that spiraled even further down. All was silent.
He descended these stairs, and when he hit the bottom the tunnel led in only one direction. It was a long black shaft with only a faint sign of the bluish light ahead of him. Again, Grim groped his way along the long corridor and felt scratch marks that scored the stone, as if a large bear had clawed its way through.
He swallowed his fear down like a bitter horse pill. As he approached the end of the tunnel, everything went black. He felt about him and found two entranceways. One on the left, and one on the right. There was no sign of the light.
He chose the one on the right. It eventually made a sharp turn and Grim halted in his tracks. Voices echoed off the stone walls. He peered around the corner and found a room at the end of the passageway. It was well-lit and Grim had to cover his eyes from the glare. Inside he found Eevenellin facing a cell with bars.
“… Sam is infected,” whispered Eevenellin.
“And is it spreading?” asked the voice behind the bars. It was Dorian.
“Ellen has it. It won’t be long before the rest of their siblings are sick as well,” she replied.
“What about Valeria? If she is freed, she may reveal the truth.”
“No one can reverse that condition. You know that.”
Dorian growled and then sniffed the air. “I smell someone coming. You better go. We have to see this through. At all costs.”
Grim didn’t wait to hear more as a sick feeling churned in his stomach. He had been wrong. And Rudy had been right ― Eevenellin was involved, and so was Dorian. Grim shook his head, unwilling to believe that they had all been so easily fooled by Dorian’s friendly demeanor. The Grundel and the Gargoyle were working together and now Sam and Ellen were sick.
Grim stumbled back along the corridor with Eevenellin’s footsteps behind him. After dashing around the corner, Grim ducked into the other entranceway. He waited for the footsteps to pass.
Eevenellin coughed and sniffed at the air. It sounded more like snorting. Blackness surrounded him like a smothering blanket and he waited in the cold dark, holding his breath.
The light of Eevenellin’s sinth light inched towards him.
Grim backed up.
The sniffing got closer.
He held his breath.
Then two hands covered his mouth and two more grabbed him by the arms, and Grimwald Doyle was hauled backwards, into the darkness.
Grim was dragged by hands that gripped him firmly, deeper into the black corridor. He struggled to free himself, but the arms enclosed around him. He kicked his feet and tried to yell, but heard a faint whisper in his ear.
“Shh.”
He stopped struggling and the hands released him. Another voice whispered in the dark.
“Just wait,” it said.
<
br /> Grim and the owners of the voices waited as the sound of Eevenellin’s snorting moved closer. Then he caught sight of something down at the end of the corridor. It looked like Barny and Benny.
They tapped on the walls and waved at the Grundel who whipped around.
“Hey, you!” she called and ran through the tunnel after them.
Then they turned tail and ran.
Grim exhaled.
“Whew,” sighed the voice behind him. It was Benny.
Grim watched the blackness, waiting to see if Eevenellin would return. When he was convinced it was safe, he turned around. A soft green light surrounded his rescuers. They held out the watches their dads had given them. They pushed a button to turn off the projected images of themselves.
“What are you doing down here?”
“Sam said we were needed here,” Benny said.
Grim’s heart still pounded in his chest. “You know he’s sick?”
They nodded.
“We have to go back,” Grim said. “Do you know the way?”
Barny nodded. “We come down here all the time to get away from Madam Malkim. Chores stink.”
Grim laughed. Clever. It was no wonder he hadn’t seen much of the twins.
They traveled back up the corridor and hung a right. They sped through two more sets of long, dank tunnels, the twins leading the way. They stopped, and gestured for Grim to approach. Ben pointed inside a cavern where a flickering sinth torch cast barely enough light to see.
Sleeping on a stone bench was Veerasin. Her legs twitched while she dreamt and her ankles were still a little swollen. Without her hair to cover her face, he could see the other half more clearly. She was scarred horribly.
The twins crept out of the cave. Grim followed.
“What’s wrong with her? What is she doing down here?”
“Not sure,” they whispered. “We followed her down here.”
“Is this under Madam Malkim’s?” he asked.
Benny shook his head. He weaved his hands back and forth. “These go all under the city.”
Grim was distracted by muffled moans and tapping noises echoing through the cavern.
“There’s some weird things living down here,” Barny said. “We better go.”
Land of Verne Page 13
