“It’s stained. Won’t wash off.”
“A stain? From what?”
With a shrug of his shoulders and honesty-plütz still in his veins, Vincent said, “My inheritance was . . . scattered. I was retrieving some of it from a hotel in Venzelemma when I was captured and treated to this.”
“Your inheritance? So you do have money after all?”
“Accessing it proved difficult.”
Babak turned Vincent’s hand over again before declaring, “Stain it again, darker now. It will be your symbol. Your rallying cry. Your signature, eh?”
Vincent curled the corners of his mouth down in thought, then found himself nodding in agreement. “Good idea. A blue hand for Brugel.”
“It will link you to Elmaree,” Melody offered.
All three looked at her like she’d spoken in Craviçian. Melody explained. “Your ancestor, Grand Duchess Elmaree. She had a blue hand, after she broke her writing quill and refused to sign her marriage contract with . . . oh I can’t remember who it was. But I remember reading about her blue hand. They called it Elmaree’s Stain.”
Of course, Elmaree’s Stain, Vincent thought back to his history lessons and remembered it now. The someone Elmaree had refused to marry was a Slaegalese prince. No point mentioning that while standing here in Slaegal, getting himself shackled to this neon-Slaegalese heiress.
“Ha! Excellent,” Babak grabbed Melody in a fierce hug and kissed both her cheeks. “A blue hand, it is a sign from above that Vincent is the true Duke of Brugel. And Ruslana darling will be his Duchess.”
Chapter Four
Weak sunlight tried to warm the ground as Ondine, Hamish and Old Col walked several blocks towards the dance hall. The icy northern winds pinched their ears. Snow landed in Hamish’s hair, making him look so much older than he should. Ondine chastised herself for being so superficial. Everyone looked older in winter, what with all the frowning at the dark clouds above.
Turning her collar up, Ondine shuddered. “Is it just me, or is spring not coming at all this year?”
“You’re getting soft,” Old Col said. “Plenty of winters that wouldn’t let go back in my day.”
On they trudged, the ballroom coming into view as they reached the next intersection. At first, Ondine thought its stately stonewalls and arched windows had been decorated in that modern ‘distressed’ look. On closer inspection, it really was a distressed building. Peeling paint curled along the walls and orange streaks ran from the rusty guttering above. The windowsills were no longer flat, having become lumpy and white from decades of bird droppings.
Inside offered no respite from neglect. It was a draughty place that had seen far better days. Leaky stains drizzled down the walls, bubbling the paintwork. The floorboards creaked and whined with age. As did the masses of people assembled for rehearsal.
With a shrug, Old Col said, “It will look better on the night, and you won’t hear the floorboards over the music.” [292]
Two young instructors wearing shiny black leggings and tank tops, with sheer, fluttery pink skirts tied around their hips swanned in. “Places everyone,” one of them said. [293]
The men and women paired up. Slowly. Old Col looked like the spriteliest one there. Ondine giggled at the thought of the big night having defibrillating machines and ambulances on standby.
A tinny stereo filled the air with classical music. One of the instructors stepped forward. “Positions! Gentlemens, take your ladies for the Brugelish three-step. Ahhhhhhnnnd One two three, one two three, one two three, rest! One two three, one two three, one two three, rest! Excellaimont!” On the instructor went, counting and resting and exclaiming. The dancers, who previously moved at glacial slowness to get up from their chairs, glided around the room like youngsters. The music and movement did, as Col promised, drown most of the creaky floorboard noises out.
“Excellaimont!” The woman said again.
No such word. Ondine promised to look it up later.
“No, no, no!” The lady moved to Hamish and slapped her palms hard on his upper arms. “No touching your ears with your shoulders. Down. Down. That’s better.”
“With all due respect, it’s noat like I’m interested in a career in dancing.” Hamish shot back.
Where was the heating? Ondine wondered, because the snow from Hamish’s hair hadn’t thawed.
“That may be,” the instructor said, “but your partner here needs her night to be special, and if you are not in the right position, arms held the right way, you will not guide her properly when she twirls.”
“Oh,” he said.
Watching from the sidelines, Ondine couldn’t believe it when the instructor produced a twisted bar, which she slotted over Hamish’s shoulders to force him in the shape of a warped scarecrow.
“Are you sure we need that?” Old Col voiced Ondine’s thoughts.
The instructor tut-tutted. “He must hold himself like a gentlemans!”
From where Ondine sat, Hamish looked more like a yoked cow than a ‘gentlemans’.
“The more you fight it, the deeper the bruises,” the instructor said. “Now, off we go again, one two three, one two three, one two three, rest!”
All dancing came to a sudden stop as somebody important walked into the ballroom. Instantly everyone made a gracious bow or curtsey to acknowledge Duchess Anathea’s entrance. Beside her stood a dashingly well-preserved man, his hair streaked with silver.
“Who’s that?” Ondine whispered as Old Col and Hamish stood to the side of the assembly.
“I think it’s an old beau,” Old Col said, trying to get a better look. “Don’t stare, it’s rude.”
Was he a former husband? Ondine recalled a conversation she’d had with Anathea many months ago, about an ex who had dumped her because they’d only produced girl children. “I thought he left her because he wanted boys?”
“Not that one,” Old Col said. “This is the other one; the one her family didn’t like. Don’t they make a lovely couple?”
In that case, Ondine was happy for Anathea to rekindle an old flame.
“My Lordship, what an honour,” the instructor said as she walked towards Brugel’s ruling Duchess.
Anathea smiled to all assembled. “How are the rehearsals coming along?”
“Eh, we’ve jest started,” Hamish said with a shrug.
Ondine winced as the bar across his back held him firmly in place.
“Carry on, pretend I am not here,” Anathea said as she made her way towards Ondine.
Oh goody, now was her chance to let Anathea know about Vincent. “My Lordship, I have important news I must share with you.”
Without turning her head, Duchess Anathea said, “What deeds are being done?”
Keeping her voice low, she said, “Vincent visited his mother in the asylum, giving her a teddy bear which had the bag of vacuum dust that was full of Mrs Howser’s spirit. Then he went down the hall and saw the rest of Mrs Howser.”
Anathea swallowed, but made no outward sign of distress. “Was the bag of dust checked by anyone first?”
“Probably not, it was inside the teddy bear.”
“Oh dear me.” Anathea said. “If Mrs Howser’s body and soul are reunited, untold damage could be done to Brugel. How far apart are their rooms situated?”
“Not far enough,” Ondine said.
From her clutch purse, Anathea produced silvery coins. “Where can the nearest payphone be found?” [294]
“This way, My Lord,” Ondine said, a buzz flickering to life inside her. She had done good work today. The Duchess would order increased security at the asylum, somebody would confiscate the teddy filled with the vacuum dust bag and Mrs Howser’s soul, and then life would go back to normal. [295]
When they reached the payphone, Anathea slipped her fingers into the coin return to check for loose change.
“Sorry, old habit.” Then she picked up the handle, slipped the coins into
the slot and dialled a number.
Silently, they waited by Anathea, the dull brrr-brrr of the ringing phone echoing from the receiver. It kept on ringing.
Finally someone picked it up. “Venzelemma Asylum, how may we help you?”
With a quick clear of her throat, Anathea spoke firmly down the line. “This is your Duchess Anathea. I would like to be told of the whereabouts of a Mrs Birgit Howser.”
“Yes, of course it’s the duchess, and I’m Catherine The Great. Pull the other one why don’t you?”
“This is not the response due to me. I will be put through to the management.”
Leaning close to Hamish, Ondine whispered, “They think it’s a prank call.”
“Give me the phone,” Old Col interrupted. Then she muttered some incantation down the line about speaking the truth and the voice down the line completely changed.
So did Old Col’s expression. And her pallor. “I see. Thank you.”
She hung the phone up.
Anathea slipped her fingers in the coin return to see if any change would fall.
Old Col said, “Don’t let anybody see how upset we are. We must absolutely behave as if nothing is wrong.”
Which meant everything was completely and utterly wrong.
“Let’s have it,” Hamish said.
Old Col took a breath and squared her shoulders. “Mrs Howser has escaped the asylum.”
Gulp, Ondine gulped.
“Oh dear,” Anathea said. “Events have quickly been escalated.”
“WHAT HAPPENED BACK there?” Vincent couldn’t get enough air into his lungs as Melody drove them away from the Balakhan estate. How long had they been there? Was it late evening or early morning? He’d lost track of time and geography.
“You got engaged. That’s what happened. To an Oompa loompa.”
His breath fogged the side window as he leaned his head on the cool glass. “I think maybe you used too much magic and we all said things we should have kept to ourselves.”
“I didn’t use any.” The car took a sharp turn.
Vincent reeled. “You must have.”
“I read up on Babak. He is direct and blunt. Pouring honesty magic on that would be like tipping rocket fuel on a bonfire.”
“Not buying it.” Residual nausea from his sudden engagement grew into full-blown dry-heaves from Melody’s driving. “You used too much magic and it backfired.”
“I didn’t use any.”
“Why not?”
“Because . . . I needed to show you how life would be without me.”
A filthy curse leapt from Vincent, followed by, “You put the entire negotiations at risk!”
She gave him a sarcastic look, which meant she wasn’t watching the road and fresh panic surged inside him.
Clearly not noticing his discomfort, she kept on talking. “You’re such a good negotiator, I knew you’d be all right.”
Eyes back on the road, she overtook a slow car and accelerated away.
“Then tell me, oh clever witch, what am I paying you for if you’re not using your magic?”
“You’re not paying me, you’re broke.” They veered sharply as she overtook another car.
“Hey! Take it easy!”
She took the next bend sideways.
Vincent’s heart crashed into his ribs. “Slow down, you’ll kill us both.”
In a screech of gravel and slurry, Melody pulled over. She slammed the gear lever into neutral, but kept the engine ticking over.
Grateful she’d stopped, Vincent waited for his panicked pulse to climb down from the roof. “What the hell has gotten into you?”
“You!” She started slapping at him with her palms.
“Ow! Ow!” It didn’t hurt so much as annoy. Vincent trapped her hands in his to make her stop. The face looking back was wild. “What is wrong with you?”
“You can’t work it out?” Melody cried. “I’m in love with you, you idiot!”
Damn. “Well,” not letting go of her hands, he shrugged, “I knew that much. Obviously. Why else would you bother helping me?”
Her face displayed utter puzzlement.
Vincent let out a sigh. “What I don’t get is why you are so upset now.”
Her cheeks turned a shade of purple and her lips thinned. “Because you’re going to marry that . . . that rich nobody you only just met.”
“Yes. I am going to marry her. Because her father is loaded and I’m broke.”
“But . . . you were supposed to get money, not get engaged.”
“You didn’t think a rich nobody with a weddable daughter would hand over a fortune with no strings?”
In a pathetic voice she said, “You were supposed to marry me!”
He could have sworn he heard something screeching to a halt. Perhaps it was his brain. “Was I? But what could you possibly bring to the marriage?”
A gasp from Melody, then a quick recovery. “I’d bring me, you insufferable turd!”
“HOW WAS REHEARSAL?” Ma asked the moment they stepped through the door of the family pub. “Ondi love, the sink is full of dishes, there’s a good girl.”
Best get the bad news out of the way early. Taking a dramatic breath, Ondine said, “Mrs Howser has escaped the asylum.”
“Oh yes?”
“I know, it’s terrible!” Ondine said. “Wait, what? Why aren’t you worried?”
“Should I be?” Ma said as she handed Ondine a pair of washing gloves. “It’s not like we’re involved in any way, are we?”
Oh, about that –
“Exactly,” Ma said, as if to answer her own question. “Back to work, now, there’s a good girl.”
Several stacks of dishes later, Old Col came sidling up to Ondine and waggled her fingers at the water to suds it up with magic. The finger waggling produced zero results, so Ondine handed her the bottle of detergent instead.
Keeping her voice low, Old Col said, “I’ve been making some calls. Mrs Howser has turned up at Fort Kluff.”
“Why does that sound familiar?”
Handing Ondine another dirty plate, she whispered, “It’s where the late Duke Pavla sent Vincent, to drum some sense into him.”
Ondine dropped the plate into the water with a sudsy splash. “There’s no knowing what damage she could do at a place like that.”
“Tell me about it. Especially as the magic is still spreading.”
“What magic?” Ondine asked.
That earned her a stern look.
“I mean, what magic in particular?”
Uh oh, Old Col’s expression told Ondine she was in for a lecture. She might not have been psychic, but she always knew when she was in trouble.
“My dear girl, do you think your ability to make people’s dreams come true has simply gone away?”
“Oh, that.”
“Yes that. It doesn’t just end when you’re not with Hamish. The people who’ve caught it still have it, and they’re still spreading it about as well.”
That horrible, plummeting feeling came over Ondine. “But I thought we stopped it when we caught Howser at the snow maze festival, and Anathea trapped her soul in the vacuum bag.”
“We did, but it was only temporary. And now her body and soul are back together, and so the spell is working its mad magic all over the place.”
“What are you two conspiring about?” Ma said as she arrived with more dirty dishes.
“Nothing,” Ondine and Old Col said together, making them both sound incredibly guilty.
It earned a suspicious look from Ma who said, “Nothing? As in ‘I have nothing to do with any of that lot any more,’ right?”
Mutely, Ondine nodded assent and wished she didn’t have to lie to her mother, because it felt so incredibly wrong to be doing that. At the same time, the news that Mrs Howser’s horrible magic was working again, and that she was at Fort Kluff, set light to the idea that she had to do something to make it stop.
If only she knew what that something should be.
“At least you’re not giving me the silent treatment any more.” Came the reply from the uptight young witch in the seat beside him. She’d spent the last forty kilometres fuming away. He could tell by the way her lips were so tightly pressed, and the huffing and the overdramatic sighs. Even her blinking was noisy.
“Take a right here.”
“That’s not the way to Venzelemma,” Melody said.
“We’re not going to Venzelemma,” he said, then mentally counted down from ten, waiting for her interjection. Which never came. Instead, she kept driving, a tightly wound bundle of fuming upsettedness.
They took the curving road upwards and onwards, the dense pine trees dripping water as the last of the snow melted. The engine whined down into a lower gear as they reached a long hill, until eventually they came to a wide gravel driveway.
Still Melody said nothing. Perhaps she’d put a stewing spell on him or something, to make every tiny thing annoy the tripe out of him. Well, she’d know soon enough where they were, especially when they saw an enormous sign, fixed on a gate next to a security checkpoint.
Fort Kluff.
“What the hell are we doing here?” Melody hit the brake.
“Catching up with an old friend. Keep driving, there’s a gatehouse coming up.”
When they reached the gatehouse, he showed his old Fort Kluff Cadet identity card to the woman on guard, who welcomed him like an old friend. A respected friend. “Welcome home, Sir.”
The gates opened, they drove through and Melody found a parking spot near the entrance.
“Right this way, sir,” the guard surprised him by opening his door. She gestured towards a security gate near the administration entrance. Here they swiped Vincent’s card through an electronic reader, which earned him smiles all round.
The Ondine Collection Page 61
