The Stroke of Eleven

by Kyle Robert Shultz

  I raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

  “That is actually what they’re called,” said Cordelia. “It’s a concept in theoretical magic. A hole in reality, connecting one location with another.”

  “They couldn’t have come up with a less stupid name than that?”

  She pursed her lips. “Well, some people call them ‘worm holes’ instead.”

  “Ugh.” I made a face. “Never mind. Let’s stick with rabbit holes.”

  “But I can’t create those portals in here,” said Kanin. “The barrier always blocks them.”

  I dug my claws into the table. “There has to be something we can do!”

  “Nick.” Cordelia’s tone was stern as she met my gaze. “Listen to me. I know exactly how you feel. I care deeply about Crispin too, and Molly’s the only family I have left. But we have to focus on stopping Beatrice first. We don’t have a choice.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. The idea of Crispin and Molly being held at the mercy of the Council was enough to drive me insane. In our little team, I’d always been the voice of reason and caution. Cordelia, Crispin and Molly were all prone to impulsive decisions. I was generally the one holding them back, telling them to calm down.

  I didn’t want to be calm now. I wanted to go crazy and attack Beatrice; force her to free us from this nightmare.

  But you’re a detective, not an animal, I reminded myself. You can’t save Crispin if you throw common sense to the wind now. Don’t be emotional. Take a breath, count to ten, and focus on the facts.

  I took a breath, counted to ten…and roared at the top of my lungs.

  Everyone already had their ears covered before I started.

  “I do that every time, don’t I?” I panted, once I ran out of breath.

  “Pretty much,” said Melody.

  “Good thing I cast a spell to sound-proof this room,” said Cordelia.

  “Now that you’ve gotten that out of your system,” said Kanin, “let’s get back to the business at hand.”

  “Right.” I exhaled slowly. “At the risk of repeating myself—which is apparently all I’m doing right now—I do have two more questions.”

  “Go ahead,” said Kanin patiently.

  “You mentioned something before about Beatrice sending people to the dungeons. How does that work, then? They stay there, even when the clock turns back?”

  “Yes. Beatrice can alter where people are when the loop begins. If she discovers that someone has started to remember the prior loops, she usually imprisons them downstairs. Then they all start out in the dungeons at the beginning of the loop instead of arriving at the ball at their usual time.”

  “They’re all locked away down there,” said Alan. “All the people who remembered and tried to escape—or who went mad.”

  “Ah.” I shuddered.

  “And the other question is, what about Cinderella and Prince Matteo, right?” said Malcolm.

  I ground my fangs. It was getting to be tiresome, having everyone know what I was about to say before I said it. “Yeah. That’s it.”

  “There are many stories about what happened to them,” said Melody. “Legends, I suppose you’d call them. This place has become like a little civilization over the centuries, with Cinderella as a mythical figure.”

  “Some say she’s a hero who escaped the castle and will one day return with an army to vanquish Beatrice,” said Bryn. “Others claim she’s a heartless monster who doomed us all, and who’s now suffering for her crimes down in the dungeons.”

  “Either way,” said Kanin, “people tell stories about her to make themselves feel better about their own fate. Anyone who knew the facts about where she ended up is long gone.”

  “Everyone remembers eventually,” said Alan. “They all try to keep it hidden from Beatrice and the clockmen for as long as they can, but sooner or later, somebody cracks under the strain. It’s exhausting, putting up with these loops over and over again and pretending it’s new every single time. The people who don’t remember yet are the lucky ones.”

  A solemn hush fell over the White Rabbit Society. “So what do we do?” I asked. “You’ve all been meeting and planning for this long, you must have at least a few ideas.”

  Kanin reached up to straighten his mask. “We—and by ‘we’, I mean all of us including you and Cordelia—have tried practically everything.”

  This complicated matters. It was demoralizing to try to think of a clever idea while knowing I’d already failed countless times. “We did all that, and we’re still not in the dungeons?”

  “I think Beatrice finds our efforts entertaining,” said Malcolm. “She only got rid of Sylvia because she went completely stark-raving bonkers and started trying to beat all the clockmen up. Our plans are usually more subtle than that.”

  I recalled the incredibly-annoying rules of magic that Cordelia had taught me after I’d first become a Beast. “All magic spells—”

  “—have living sources,” Alan finished. “We know.”

  I fought to keep from snapping in irritation. “All right. So have you—”

  “—tried to find the source of this one, so we could disenchant it?” Melody inspected her fingernails. “Of course we have; we’re not idiots.”

  “And?” I snarled.

  Alan shook his head. “No luck. If it’s inside this castle at all, it’s extremely well-hidden.”

  “For pity’s sake, why are we even bothering any more?” Malcolm drummed his fingers on the table in impatience. “We’ve tried every spell we can think of; magic so intricate and powerful that most people can’t begin to comprehend it. And it still wasn’t enough to stop Beatrice. Isn’t it about time we admitted defeat?”

  I wasn’t remotely ready to accept that. “Have you tried—”

  “Yes.” Everyone spoke in unison.

  Except Cordelia, that is. She pounded on the table to get their attention. “Now, wait a minute. If we’re ever going to get out of these loops, then we need to do something different from what we’ve already been doing. Right?”

  “Obviously,” said Malcolm.

  “Well, there’s one thing that hasn’t changed in every loop. All of you ignore Nick every time he tries to come up with an idea.”

  “He’s not a Charmblood,” said Kanin. “And this is extremely high-level magic we’re talking about. No offense, but I’m not sure he has much to contribute to the discussion.”

  “Offense taken,” I grumbled.

  “But don’t you see?” Cordelia said to Kanin. “That’s exactly the problem! All the magical brains in this room have been trying and failing for no one knows how long. Perhaps we need an ordinary, non-magical detective’s input on this problem.”

  I twitched my tail. “Not sure I’d describe myself as ordinary or non-magical right at this moment.”

  “Never mind that. Go back to your roots. Nick Beasley, private investigator. Set aside all the magic, all the strangeness, and think about how you’d get us out of this mess. Your awareness will be different now that you’ve started to remember, so perhaps you’ll finally be able to get us out of here.” She slapped me on the back. “Take all the time you need.”

  As if on cue, the big clock out in the ballroom struck ten.

  My eyes widened as an idea exploded in my mind. “That’s it,” I murmured. “That’s the answer.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Because I Could Not Stop for Death

  Everyone waited eagerly for me to continue. Everyone except Malcolm, who probably assumed I was going to say something he’d heard before. He leaned his head on his hand and regarded me wearily.

  I ignored him and pointed at Melody. “You said the spell is channeled through the clock in the ballroom, right?”

  “Yyyes.” She was hesitant, as if worried I was somehow going to trap her.

  “Then that’s the solution!”

  “Nick,” said Kanin, “if you’re suggesting we destroy the clock, that’s a bad idea. Time’s already in a sorry state;
we don’t want to make it worse. Smashing the clock—assuming that’s even possible—could be catastrophic.”

  “No, no. That’s not what I had in mind at all.”

  “Oh, really?” Malcolm stretched and leaned back in his chair. “I suppose you’re going to suggest that we turn the hands forward to after midnight, or something.”

  “Yes!” I applauded him. “Spot-on.”

  Everyone was quiet for a few seconds.

  “Well,” said Malcolm, “that’s new, at least. Though only because it’s a new level of stupidity.”

  Cordelia gave him an austere look. “Quiet, Malcolm.”

  His eyes flashed. “Where do you get off talking to me like that?”

  “You’re going to kill my boyfriend in about a hundred years from your time, so yes, I have the right.”

  Melody gave him a reproachful look. “Malcolm, how could you?”

  “I haven’t!” Malcolm spluttered.

  “Nick,” said Cordelia, “I understand what you have in mind. But I don’t think something that simplistic will do much good.”

  “Really? Has anyone tried it yet?”

  “Of course they haven’t,” said Kanin.

  “And why not?”

  He addressed me as if I were a child. “Because, Nick, it’s a ridiculous idea. I’m sorry, but undoing a spell as powerful as this one can’t possibly be that easy.”

  I folded my arms. “Give me one good reason why not.”

  No one replied, which didn’t surprise me.

  “Maybe it isn’t that simple,” I consented. “But, on the other hand, maybe it is. I don’t think we’ll know until we give it a try.”

  “It’ll be very dangerous,” said Cordelia. “Those clockmen are watching us all the time.”

  “All we have to do is distract them,” I said.

  Kanin raised a hand. “If you recall, the last person who tried to distract the clockmen ended up in the dungeon.”

  “Yeah. I was coming to that.”

  Malcolm looked worried. “Please don’t tell me you’re suggesting that one of us should—”

  “Exactly. Make a scene and get yourself captured. That way Cordelia and I can make it to the clock.”

  He scoffed. “Well, I’m certainly not signing up for that.”

  “Might be better if two of you distracted the clockmen, actually. Or three. Or maybe all of you. That way more of them will be kept occupied.”

  “Nick,” said Bryn, “I don’t mean to seem selfish, but do you realize what you’re asking of us?”

  “Yeah. I do. I’m asking you all to risk being locked away in a dark and horrible dungeon for all of eternity if this idea doesn’t work. And I’m sorry about that. But I still think we need to try it.”

  Alan pawed at the floor with his metal hoof. “Why do you and Cordelia get to be the heroes? Why can’t you be the distraction? We’re all just as capable of fiddling with a clock as you are.”

  “And I suppose you’ll be willing to accept whatever horrible punishment Beatrice dreams up for the person who does the fiddling? Because I imagine it’ll be a lot worse than whatever she’ll do to the people who only created a diversion.”

  “Aha. Right. Good point.”

  I looked at Kanin. “So? You appear to have the final word in this little society. What do you think?”

  He was silent for a moment. “It’s an utterly ridiculous plan.”

  “I’ll concede that.”

  “But,” he went on, “I can’t say for sure that it won’t work. And it’s different from anything we’ve attempted before. Since all those ideas ended in failure, perhaps we ought to give this one a chance.”

  “It’s not safe,” Malcolm argued. “Casting a few spells to see if we can break the loop, that’s one thing, but a scheme this brazen could get us all killed. Repeatedly.”

  “I know that, Malcolm,” said Kanin. “But none of the ‘safe’ ideas have done us much good, have they?”

  “I think we should do it,” said Melody.

  “Me too,” agreed Bryn. “I’m not very happy about it, but I believe it’s worth the risk.”

  “I’m in,” said Alan.

  “Me too,” said Cordelia.

  I turned to Malcolm. “Looks like you’re outvoted.”

  “Votes don’t matter,” he grumbled. “This isn’t a democracy. Kanin gives the orders, we follow them. Thought I can’t begin to explain why.”

  Melody elbowed him in the ribs. “Hush, you.”

  Kanin got to his feet. He didn’t bother to acknowledge Malcolm’s snide remark. “We’ll proceed with Nick’s plan. But we should hurry. This loop won’t last very much longer.” He pointed to the revolving panel we had come through. “You know the drill. We carefully leave the room one at a time. Malcolm’s illusion spells won’t be enough to divert the clockmen’s suspicion if we all march out of here together.”

  “Why can’t you use those spells to hide us while we try to change the clock?” I asked Malcolm. “Then we’d be invisible, and we wouldn’t have to bother with the distraction.”

  “I wish,” said Malcolm.

  “Invisibility magic is tricky,” Cordelia explained. “It doesn’t really work if you’re out in plain sight of everybody. Something tucked away in a corner, like the door to this room, is easy to keep hidden so long as nobody draws attention to it. But an illusion spell won’t keep you invisible if you march right into the middle of a crowded room with it. It can’t hold up under that kind of strain.”

  “All right,” I said. “I’ll take your word for it.”

  One by one, the members of the society trooped out of the room. Soon, only Kanin, Cordelia, and myself remained.

  “Ladies first,” I told Cordelia. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  She bit her lip. “I hope this works.”

  “You and me both. Now, hurry.” I gave her a gentle push. “And be careful.”

  As the panel swung shut behind her, I addressed Kanin. “Look, I know I already asked you this, and you weren’t very forthcoming about it, but for some reason I feel I have to try again. Who are you?”

  Despite the mask, I could read his expression enough to tell he was irritated. “Please, don’t start that now. We haven’t got the time.”

  “Why are you wearing that mask?”

  “Because I like it.”

  “It looks uncomfortable.”

  “It’s not.”

  “Who are you trying to hide your identity from? Beatrice?”

  “Yes.” He blurted out his reply a little too quickly.

  “I think you’re lying. Besides, she’s so powerful that I doubt a mask would be enough to keep your face hidden from her.”

  “It’s an enchanted mask.” He reached up to straighten it.

  “Wouldn’t a glamour spell be more effective?”

  “They’re not really my style. Can we please drop the subject now? We need to get back to the ballroom.” He headed for the door.

  “Certainly.” I sidestepped so that he bumped into me on his way past. “Oops, sorry.”

  Just as he was about to activate the revolving panel, he patted his jacket, then froze and clenched his fists in anger. “Give it back.”

  “What?” I held up the color photograph I’d picked from his pocket. “This?”

  He spun around. “That is none of your business.”

  “I’m only trying to get to know you better.” I took a better look at the photo. It showed a chestnut-haired girl in a jacket and trousers, leaning against a tree and smiling. She appeared to be in her early twenties. “Pretty. A little young for you, perhaps, but I’m assuming this is an old picture.”

  He snatched it away from me. “Like I said, none of your business.”

  I rubbed my chin. “She looks a little familiar, but I can’t place her. What’s her name?”

  “If you must know, her name’s Alice.”

  “Doesn’t ring a bell. Any last name?”

  “No.”

 
; “Oh, well. You know…I could swear I’ve met you before, somewhere.”

  “You have. Weren’t you listening when I explained about the time loops?”

  “Yeah, about those—you always show up at the ball after us, in each loop. So, logically, that must mean you’re from sometime in my future, right?”

  “Not necessarily,” he demurred. “The arrival times can be random. From what I’ve observed, people from different time periods don’t always arrive at the ball in the correct order.”

  I frowned at him. “Why are you being coy? I didn’t ask for another one of your long-winded explanations about time-loop magic; I’m just asking what year it was when you came to be here.” I squinted at him and tried to access my jumbled memories again. “Because I’m sure I remember you from somewhere other than this castle, which should mean that you’re from before my time.”

  “That must be it, then. I’m from your past.”

  “But—”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” He pointed to the door. “Go already, will you, Nick? Let’s not bungle your bright idea by being late.”

  With difficulty, I succeeded in tearing my gaze away from him. There was something familiar about him…but it was also deeply unsettling. I wanted to know who he was, but at the same time, something deep inside me didn’t want to know.

  Our little group scattered across the ballroom, mingling with the crowd. Beatrice was nowhere to be seen, thank goodness, but I did notice her clockmen lurking on the fringes of the dance floor. The hoods of their cloaks were pulled up to hide their mechanical-skull faces once more.

  Kanin moved closer to me and Cordelia, but kept his back to us. “This is it.” His voice was barely audible above the rich classical strains coming from the orchestra. “Get ready.”

  “We are ready,” I replied. “Would you like to start the diversion, Alan?”

  A mischievous grin spread across the centaur’s face. He turned to the orchestra, which was right in the middle of a stately classical waltz, and held up his hands like a conductor.

  Like all centaurs, Alan had the ability to control the motion of objects. The ones he had his eye on now were the orchestra’s instruments. They rose out of the startled musicians’ hands, high above their heads, and began to play a very different song—a swing tune from modern times.