by Kyle Shultz
Crispin eyed Whitlock with a confused expression. “What are you made up for? A fancy-dress ball?”
Whitlock smiled. “Oh yes, I know,” he said, looking down at himself. “Quite ridiculous. But you see, there are many traditions governing an audience with Madame Levesque. And sadly, looking like a complete idiot happens to be one of them.” He looked down at his attire with a dark frown. “When I take her place, the dress code for these occasions will be quite different.”
Crispin’s brow furrowed. “Madame Levesque? Never heard of her.”
“She is the head of the Council of Scions. The leader of all the great Charmblood families, and the most powerful enchantress in the Afterlands. For the moment.” He chuckled at this, like somebody in on a private joke. “You’re very fortunate, you know. Few people ever get the chance to meet her in person.”
“And why exactly do you want me chained to the wall here during your meeting?”
Whitlock shrugged. “Décor, mainly. One strives to make a good impression.”
Though I knew perfectly well that it was useless, I growled and swiped at Whitlock. My claws vanished in the folds of his robe, striking nothing.
“Now,” said Whitlock, rubbing his hands together, “what say you and I have a little chat while we wait? I can tell you more about my plan to take over the world, and you can tell me more about what the Rose did to your brother.”
“I’ve told you everything,” said Crispin through clenched teeth. “I even drew you a sketch, for pity’s sake. What more do you want?”
“Ah, yes,” said Whitlock. “I’ve been meaning to compliment you on your skill with a pencil.” He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and scrutinized it. I peered closer and saw that it was an excellent likeness of me.
“However, I must say,” Whitlock went on, “for a Beast, your brother is really quite a disappointing specimen. He should have ended up a lot more terrifying.”
“I’m sure he’d be crushed that you’re not impressed with him.”
“What’s more,” Whitlock went on, “you mentioned that he could still communicate intelligently. No loss of human comprehension, no surrender to predatory instincts. He should have torn you limb from limb and devoured you the second he transformed.” He shook his head. “It really makes no sense.”
“Well, he wasn’t any too pleased when he woke up this morning, but he wasn’t quite furious enough to eat me. Though I can’t say he won’t do something along those lines to you, if he gets the chance.”
Whitlock eyed him sternly. “And, finally, there’s the fact that I can’t control his mind. I can’t even sense him.” He tossed the drawing aside. “Why doesn’t he have the same intrinsic connection to the Rose that I do? Is it because the Rose was nearly dead when it enchanted him? Or because he was only changed by a thorn that had been broken off the Rose?”
“I hope you’re not expecting me to answer those questions,” said Crispin.
Whitlock snorted. “Of course not.”
“Why do you even care about Nick? You seem to be getting along perfectly well with whatever your evil plan is. What does he matter?”
“Well, you see, my dear Christopher—”
“Crispin.”
“—your brother represents a rogue element. A loose end. I won’t tolerate some untamed mongrel in my new empire.”
Crispin’s good eye widened. “Empire?” he mocked. “Sounds very exciting.”
“It does, doesn’t it? I will forge an entire army of Beasts. Real, authentic ones, of course, not pathetic mutts like your brother. Living nightmares that bow to me alone.”
“Fascinating,” said Crispin. “And what is this Madame Levesque of yours going to say about that?”
Whitlock chuckled. “She’ll soon find she doesn’t have much choice in the matter. Your brother will come to realize the same thing, I imagine.” He spoke to Crispin as if he were talking to a small child. “You see, Crispin, I only want to offer Nick Beasley a chance to become a part of my new world. But to do that, I need to find him.”
Crispin rolled his eyes. “Look, while I’m sure Nick would be thrilled beyond repair at the prospect of joining your monster army, the fact remains that I don’t know where he is.”
Whitlock never stopped smiling, but a cold, cruel light came into his eyes. “Is that so?”
Crispin’s jaw clenched. “If you’re going to punch me again, go right ahead. It won’t get you anywhere.”
“Actually, I had something more sophisticated in mind.” Whitlock snapped his fingers. Instantly, a thorn-covered vine burst out of the stone floor at his feet, curving up towards Crispin’s neck.
“No!” I shouted, snatching in vain at the green tendril.
“Perhaps you’d like to become the first soldier in my army,” Whitlock suggested.
“Father, stop!” Cordelia cried.
“How many times do I have to remind you?” said the wraith. “He can’t hear you.”
I watched in horror as Crispin struggled against his chains. He fought in vain to pull away as the thorns neared his skin. “Do something!” I shouted at the wraith.
“I can’t,” she snapped. “I have no influence on the physical world. I can only watch.”
“Where. Is. Your. Brother?” said Whitlock, slowly and deliberately.
“I don’t know,” said Crispin.
“Where is my daughter? I know she rescued him.”
“I don’t know!”
Whitlock waved his hand. The thorns began to press into Crispin’s skin, stopping just short of drawing blood.
I advanced on the wraith. “If you don’t let us go right now, I swear I’ll—”
“Don’t bother, Nick,” said Cordelia. “You’re not a threat to her. But I am.” Circles of fiery red runes swirled around her as she raised a hand toward the wraith. “Let us out, or I’ll destroy your mirror - and you, in the process.”
The wraith laughed. “You think you can get rid of me that easily? Not to mention the fact that if you destroyed the mirror from inside, you’d only trap yourselves here forever. Besides, events are about to take an interesting turn, I think.” She pointed to Crispin. “Watch.”
More vines had exploded from the walls and floor, coiling around Crispin in a monstrous cocoon. They pulled tighter, preparing to plunge their thorns into his flesh.
“One last chance,” said Whitlock. “Tell me what I want to know, or I’ll decide you’re more useful to me as a Beast.”
“Stop this!” I shouted uselessly at Whitlock.
I could just barely see Crispin’s face through the hedge of thorns. Beads of sweat trickled down his brow. “For the last time,” he said, “I - don’t - know!”
What happened next surprised me more than anything I had seen over the past few days. As Crispin’s voice rose to a shout, red fire flashed in his eyes. For a split second, runes appeared along the vines, as if they had been illuminated by a bolt of crimson lightning. Then red light exploded from Crispin, blasting the vines into charred fragments and scattering them across the room.
Whitlock staggered back and threw up a hand to shield his face. I recoiled as well, on instinct, even though I had nothing to fear.
“What in the world?” Cordelia exclaimed.
I made a similar remark, though I used somewhat stronger language.
“You,” said Whitlock, pointing a finger at Crispin. “You’re a Charmblood.”
Crispin was breathing heavily and staring down at the incinerated vines. “No,” he said. “I’m really not.”
“He really isn’t,” I agreed.
Whitlock nodded emphatically. “You are. You must have known already.”
“I didn’t!” exclaimed Crispin. “I don’t have powers. Nothing like this has ever happened before!”
“A Charmblood’s powers often awaken in moments of great danger,” said Whitlock, rubbing his chin in thought. “Though it’s unusual for them to remain dormant so long. You’re what, nineteen, twenty?�
��
“Twenty-three,” said Crispin, annoyed.
“Interesting. But not interesting enough for me to care right now.” He waved his hand, casting a string of runes toward Crispin. As they encircled his throat, Crispin tried to speak, but a surprised look came over his face as he apparently realized he couldn’t.
“There,” said Whitlock. “That silencing spell will keep you from disturbing my meeting. Unfortunately, it won’t last long.”
At that moment, a tall, thin man in a butler’s uniform stepped into the room. “Milord,” he said, “Madame Levesque has arrived.”
Whitlock nodded. “Show her in, Trask. And see that her entourage is properly attended to. I’ll see to them in a moment - as well as you and the other servants.”
A worried look came over the man’s face. “Y-yes, your lordship,” he stammered.
Whitlock frowned. “Surely you’re not having second thoughts, Trask?”
“No, sir! Of course not.”
“Very well, then. Go upstairs and get ready.”
With a slight shudder, Trask turned to leave, his face pale.
I looked at Cordelia. “What just happened?”
She was gazing at Crispin in astonishment. “I don’t know.”
“How is he a Charmblood?”
“The same way anyone else is. He was born with it.”
“But I’m not a Charmblood.” I hesitated. “Unless I am, and just don’t know it.”
“No, trust me, you’re not. If you were, I’d have sensed it when we first met. But you did say he’s your half-brother, so perhaps his mother—” She shook her head. “Never mind. We can worry about that issue after we rescue him.”
I tried to put the revelation that my brother was some kind of wizard out of my head for the time being. But it was difficult.
A tall, grey-haired woman with severe, angular features suddenly breezed into the room, her black robes trailing behind her. Unlike Whitlock’s garb, hers was embroidered with intricate designs in gold thread. An amulet - with a large gemstone that resembled a sapphire - hung around her neck. Her gaze fell briefly on Crispin, then turned to Whitlock.
“Well?” was her only word of greeting.
Whitlock bowed low. “Madame,” he said, in an oily voice. “Such a pleasure to see you again. It has been far too long. Please, have a seat.”
“No,” she said curtly.
“I greatly appreciate you taking the time to—”
“Shut up.” She folded her arms. “Where is it?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Don’t be coy. The Rose. Hand it over. You should have informed me the moment you discovered its location instead of going after it yourself.”
Whitlock grinned like a hungry wolf. “I’m afraid I can’t simply give it to you, Madame.”
Levesque’s eyes flashed. “Don’t be an idiot, Jackson. After the Crimson Sisterhood failed to recover the Rose, you promised you’d find it for me.”
“I promised I would find it. I said nothing about finding it for you.”
Levesque’s lip curled in a sneer. “You may be powerful, but you’re not on my level, Alastair. Don’t be foolish enough to think you could best me.”
Whitlock raised his arms. Vines burst from the walls and ceiling of the meeting hall, weaving together like a nest of serpents.
Gasping, Levesque staggered back. “What have you done?” she cried.
“You see, Madame,” said Whitlock, “I can’t give you the Rose because it’s now linked to my blood, and rooted into the very foundations of this house. And soon, it will spread much further than that.”
“Oh, no,” said Cordelia.
“It was meant for so much more than we believed, you see. It doesn’t just transform one person. Now that I’ve bound it to my will, I can use it to create thousands of Beasts - and to make myself into the most powerful monster of all.”
“You fool! You actually awakened it? Without the Council’s knowledge or consent?” Levesque clutched at the amulet around her neck.
Whitlock laughed. “Summoning your bodyguards from upstairs, I presume? Let me help you with that.”
There was a blur of motion from the archway - shadowy forms moving too fast for my eyes to follow. A second later, we were surrounded by creatures that looked worryingly familiar. Beasts, identical to the terrifying monster Bastien had become. In unison, they gave an unearthly hiss, forming a circle around Madame Levesque. They gazed balefully at her through arachnid eyes, scratching at the floor with their long, clawed fingers and twitching their barbed tails as if longing to sting her.
All the color had drained from Levesque’s face. “My guards,” she said, clenching the amulet in her fist. “Where are my guards?” But from the look in her eyes, I could see she already knew the answer.
“These are your guards,” Whitlock cackled. “Or rather, they were. Now they work for me.”
“No,” she whispered.
Whitlock tilted his head to the left, trying to work out a crick in his neck. There was a loud crack of bone against bone, and he grunted in pain. “I must say, it’s been very tiresome maintaining a veneer of decorum just to lure you in. I’ve had to delay my own transformation for far too long. The Rose has already made me younger and stronger. Now it’s time to go all the way.”
“How could you do this?” Levesque stared in horror at the creatures surrounding her. “They were innocent!”
“I sincerely doubt that anyone in your employ is innocent. But why are you complaining? Consider them a gift from me. As bodyguards, they’re far more effective in this form. And I intend to see that all the other Scions get the same level of - protection.”
“So all the Charmblood families will be under your control. Held prisoner by your monsters.”
“Why, yes,” said Whitlock mockingly, “they will, won’t they?”
“Don’t you realize how dangerous this is? With magic like this unleashed, it won’t be long before everyone finds out the old stories aren’t truly dead! The whole system by which we control the Afterlands will be destroyed!”
“Indeed,” said Lord Whitlock, squeezing his eyes shut his whole body twitched with a sudden spasm. “With an artifact as powerful as the Rose, there will be no more need for skulking in the shadows. We can finally rule the Afterlands openly. Or, to be more precise, I can.”
Levesque raised her hands, summoning a cloud of red runes. Instantly, one of the Beasts lashed out with its tail, slashing her arm with its stinger. Levesque cried out in pain and clutched at the wound as her veins stood out green beneath her skin.
“Your healing spells won’t work against that venom,” said Lord Whitlock, opening his eyes. “So if you want me to cure you, you’ll do exactly as I say. Use your amulet to contact the rest of the Council of Scions. Tell them that they now answer to me. A mere formality, of course, but I’d like to keep things official.”
Levesque tried desperately to enchant her injured arm, but the runes kept flickering and vanishing. “All right,” she finally said, taking hold of her amulet. “I’ll do it.”
“Thank you.” He inhaled deeply. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve kept the Rose waiting long enough.”
“Cordelia,” I said softly, grabbing her hand, “don’t look.”
She squeezed my fingers so tightly that they went numb. “I have to.”
Whitlock threw his head back and let out a deafening roar as his changing body tore out of the black robes, leaving them in tattered fragments on the floor. Within seconds, he was larger than any of the other beasts. His features were more terrible as well - his eight eyes glowed red, his fangs were far longer, and scaly plates ran down the length of his back. He snarled at Levesque, and his minions echoed the sound as they knelt before him, like a wolf pack acknowledging the superiority of an alpha.
“At last,” Whitlock hissed.
“Why can he still talk?” I whispered. “I thought he said the Beasts couldn’t.”
“He was th
e first one to become linked to the Rose through blood,” said the wraith. “He has dominion over the Rose and all the other Beasts it creates, and he can also retain his free will.”
“But he wasn’t the first one to become linked to the Rose,” I protested. “To get his blood on it, I mean. I was. Technically.”
“You’re linked to a thorn from the Rose; not the Rose itself. You’re an anomaly. Quite interesting, really.” She waved her hand, and the meeting hall was replaced by the mirror garden.
Cordelia sank to her knees in the white grass. “He’s gone,” she said hoarsely. “He’s completely given himself over to that thing. I never imagined he would go this far.”
I looked at the wraith. “How in the world are we supposed to stop him?”
“The same way you’re going to get your humanity back,” she said. “By finding the Rose - the source of all this fuss - and disenchanting it.”
Cordelia looked up at her. “And if we can’t?”
“Then your boyfriend stays a Beast forever.” She smiled in amusement. “Oh, and the world will probably end as well.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Don't Look Down
I looked at Cordelia with concern. “Are you all right?” Idiot, I thought, wanting to kick myself. She’s just seen her father turn himself into a monster. Of course she’s not all right.
She didn’t answer me. Instead, she jumped to her feet. “We’re done here,” she said to the wraith. “Our bargain is complete. Let us go.”
To my surprise, I saw a hint of fear flash across the spectre’s skeletal features. “But - wait.” Her thin lips twitched in a feeble attempt at a smile. “There must be something else you want to know.”
“No,” said Cordelia firmly. “There isn’t. You’ve answered our questions, so you have to release us. Rules, remember?”
“But I have so much more to tell you. So many things you’ll want to hear. Just a few more memories, and—”
I growled softly, still feeling the ache left by the lost memory of my mother. “You’re not getting any more of those.”
The wraith’s gnarled fingers clutched at my sleeve. “There are so many secrets I could tell you,” she pleaded. “So many questions you could ask. What became of the Lost Colonies? Are the Hollow Ones truly dead? What is the secret of the Thirty-Nine Thieves?”
