Once Upon a Quest

by Anthea Sharp

  “What you did last night was extraordinary, Stevie. If you’d consider being part of my team, it would be an honor.”

  There was an odd pain in my chest. I’d never had a family, one that I remembered. I wasn’t used to the idea of anyone wanting to have me around.

  “I have to take care of Jack. He’s all alone. If not for me, he’d be …”

  Vale was quiet as she stared at me. “Do you know where the glass box came from or how it ended up in the woods outside Acadia Falls? Do you know who made it?”

  Anger flared inside me. “No!”

  “Did you put him in the box?”

  “No. God, no. All I did was find him. My foster parents had been driving me up a wall that day so I went hiking to get out of the house. That’s when I found him. He was just this beautiful boy in a box. I couldn’t leave him there, alone, looking like he was dead. I couldn’t do it, so I woke him up. I didn’t want to hurt him. I wanted to help him.”

  “What would you have done to the person who did that to him?”

  There was a sudden pressure in the back of my throat. I clamped down on it. “I would have stopped them. I would have done anything to stop them.”

  “That’s what my team does.” She shoved a lock of dark hair back from her forehead. “We fight the darkness. I suspect you’ve been fighting the darkness on your own for a long time. You know there are monsters in this world. You’re not the sort to hide under the covers or cry for help. When a bell rings in the night, you come running. Stop fighting alone. Join us.”

  She handed me a business card stamped with an image of a castle and the words Castle Manhattan on it along with a phone number and email address.

  “The dude with the sword and the—angel—work for you?”

  “Anne Sophie isn’t an angel in any sense of the word, but yes. She is part of the team and so is Baraqiel.”

  “And me,” JD added.

  I turned the card over in my hand. The back was smooth and creamy and as blank as my childhood memories. “Can you help me find out who I am? If I have a family?”

  “I don’t know,” Vale said. “Learning about your abilities will provide clues. We can try, but I can’t make any promises and the work must come first. ”

  “All right. I have a few more conditions.”

  A grumble erupted from JD’s chest. I ignored him.

  “I want my name on the list at AFAR so I can get in to see Jack any time I want. My friend, Eddie Carson, I want his name on the list, too. I also want him to know whatever he needs to know so I can talk to him about … things.”

  Vale shrugged. “Those things sound fine. We can work it out.”

  JD stood. “Let’s get you home.”

  On the way back to Acadia Falls, I had a lot of time to think. Vale and JD hadn’t told me everything. I was also certain they’d barely scratched the surface and sooner or later, things were going to get scary and weird and dangerous. There’d be a moment, I imagined, when something monstrous was chasing us down the street and they’d say something like, oops, sorry we forgot to mention the rabid, serial killer werebear …

  The other thing I’d realized was that my life had always been scary and weird and that only included the parts I remembered. No family, no memories from before the age of twelve, growing up in a series of foster homes, then finding a boy in a glass box in the forest, and discovering I can detect and walk on invisible lines of power …

  Strange was too small a word, but I could live with that.

  * * *

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Sleeping Beauty and Snow White used to duke it out in my five-year-old heart for top honors as Favorite Disney Movie. The conflict resolved itself in what I now think of as typical for little kid thinking: both movies win if you pluck your favorite things from each one.

  That’s how “A Bell in the Night” came about. Magical glass box? Check. Prince and princess? Check and check. Death-like sleep reversed? Done.

  I also had to take into consideration the hard truth that I loved Maleficent more than Princess Aurora. Sure, Maleficent had her issues and was sometimes wicked, but if I had to pick someone to have my back, I’d tap Maleficent and let the princess snooze.

  What also fired my imagination as a writer was wondering how things would play out if a strong, flawed young woman discovered a beautiful boy sleeping in a glass box in the forest. The waking would be the problem because, a) magical kisses do not make everything all right; b) no one emerges from long, death-like sleep without consequences; and c) the character performing the waking is making a life-and-death decision for another person without their consent, which might be a problem.

  Is it a foregone conclusion that anyone would want to be awakened? I wondered …

  Then there’s the question that interested me most: Wouldn’t it require some variety of magical power to open the magical box and wake the sleeper? Something in addition to the power of insta-love? In that case, opening the box would only be the beginning of a quest to discover one’s true nature and abilities.

  Stevie’s story continues in the books of the upcoming (at this writing) Castle Manhattan series. You’ll get a chance to learn more about the seraph, Anne Sophie, the giant dude with a sword, along with more from Vale and JD.

  Jack’s journey picks up with The Chronicles of Jack series, releasing soon.

  You can find out more about my books on my website: evelynsnow.com

  * * *

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Writing about all things magical and mysterious comes naturally to Evelyn Snow since she is descended from the family of one of the women hung during the infamous Salem Witch Trials. Happily, there are no nooses involved in her more recent history. She lives with her family in the Pacific Northwest and can be reached at her website: evelynsnow.com.

  Mistress Bootsi

  Anthea Sharp

  There are tales that begin Once upon a time, and I suppose that is a fine enough start for my own story, though I am not, perhaps, the usual sort of hero. I am not a knight, or sorceress, or princess in disguise, but merely a cat.

  Very well, there is nothing mere about the feline state, I’ll grant you that. And yes, I imagine you might be surprised that I can speak. My great-grandmother was a Cait Sidhe who strayed into the mortal world and decided to remain, and her offspring have been part of the Miller family ever since—though I’m the last of them, it seems. My kittens, so far, are all of the normal, non-speaking variety of cat, with so little faerie blood as to make no difference. My own fault, I suppose, for choosing that strong, stupid Tom… but that is not this tale.

  As a youngling, my mother warned our litter to be careful with our talents. Humans are strange, untrusting things, and she made us swear to only reveal our abilities in great need, and only to those whom we could trust beyond a doubt.

  Many of my brothers and sisters, in fact, never spoke a word in their lives. But I did, and soon enough you’ll understand why.

  When I was scarcely full grown, father and mother Miller decided to leave their lives as flour-grinders and retire to the warm southlands. After selling what they could, they divided their remaining possessions among their children. The oldest inherited the mill, which he was most pleased about, having the inclination to continue the family business. The middle daughter received the horses in the stables, and she was glad to add them as breeding stock to her own fine herd.

  And the youngest daughter? Well, Elisetta had ever craved adventure, and I thought it a fine thing to be bequeathed into her care. Elly always knew precisely where to scratch behind my ears and under my chin, and she’d smuggled more than one dish of cream to me, when her parents weren’t looking.

  One bright summer morning, the parents bid farewell to their offspring. My own mama groomed me one last time (though I was certainly too old for it) and told me to take good care of myself, cautioning me once more to be careful with my secrets.

  I purred and butted her head with my own, and reminded he
r not to worry. My last sight of her and my older brother was the two of them curled up in the bed of the cart, content in the sunshine, as the Millers drove off.

  Elly’s siblings had each offered to house her and give her work, but she declined. Instead, she prepared to take to the road herself, to see what adventures lay in store. I was happy to join her, especially as she’d devised a comfortable sling to carry me in.

  In addition to myself, Elly carried a pack with some provisions and changes of clothing, and a pouch worn next to her skin with a few silver and copper coins.

  As she was a strapping lass, and I a small cat and not too much of a burden, we made good progress. Soon we’d left the village behind and were striding briskly along toward the capital, where Elly hoped to make her fortune.

  “I’m a good worker,” she told me, though she didn’t yet realize I could understand her, and reply if I chose. “I’m clever with my hands. I’d wager I can save up enough for a house of my own some day, if I find the right profession.”

  I simply purred up at her and nudged her fingers, hoping she’d pet me under the chin again.

  “I know I don’t want to grind flour, or tend horses, at any rate,” she said, absently petting me. “And maybe I should keep going. Take a ship and see the entire world!”

  I gave a short, unhappy meow to that. The idea of being surrounded by water was not particularly appealing, even if it meant plenty of fish to eat. I was much more fond of staying dry than I was of a fresh piece of salmon.

  Elly laughed. “Why, Bootsi, sometimes I almost think you can understand me. What a funny cat you are.”

  I kept myself from making any reply, but merely settled down more comfortably in the sling, and soon fell asleep.

  It took us several days to reach the city. Elly and I bedded down in a number of barns, where I was happy to catch mice (I’ve always been a most excellent hunter). Elly did a bit of work in return for supper, a place to sleep, and breakfast the next morning. The farmwives were generous with their provisions, and we never went hungry at lunch.

  One afternoon we crested a hill, and Elly halted.

  “There it is,” she said, her voice hushed with wonder. “The city.”

  I peeked over the edge of the sling, then blinked to see so many buildings spread out over a green valley. Not all of them were simple one and two stories, either. There were towers and steeples, turrets and minarets jutting into the sky. The sea winked, flat and silver, beyond.

  I was not altogether certain coming to the capital was a good idea.

  But Elly, with a little skip to her step, started down the hill. I had no plans to abandon her, and so I was carried along with her into the noisy, smelly city.

  At first it was not so bad, but the deeper we went into the streets, the more uncomfortable I became. The stink of humans made my whiskers twitch, but the dogs were even worse—leaping and barking until my nerves quivered.

  A few other cats slunk about the alleys, hissing when they caught sight of me. I felt very young and untried, and could tell by the slowing of Elly’s steps that she felt the same. The sun was starting to go down, and so much of the sky was covered by tall buildings that darkness fell very quickly.

  The crowds we’d been traveling though dissipated as the city dwellers made their way home, and a cold wind blew in off the water.

  “Surely there’s somewhere we can stay the night,” Elly said, glancing about the nearly empty street. “Perhaps I’ll ask that fellow there.”

  I gave a little meow of warning, but she paid me no heed as she strode toward the rough-looking man leaning against a nearby wall.

  “Pardon me,” Elly called. “Do you know where a weary traveler might spend the night?”

  The man looked her up and down. “Have ye any coin?”

  “A small bit,” Elly admitted, which I thought was rather unwise.

  He uncrossed his arms and took a step forward, and I did not at all like the way he regarded my human.

  “Give it over, then,” he said.

  “I don’t think so.” Elly backed away, one arm protectively around me.

  The fellow lunged, and Elly whirled, darting away between two of the nearby buildings. She pelted down the alley, jolting me up and down, while I thought furiously of a way to save us.

  “Oh no!” she cried, fetching up against a brick wall enclosing the alley.

  I looked up at it. Too high for her to climb, certainly. The man chasing us let out an unpleasant chuckle.

  Quickly, she scooped me out of the sling and set me on my feet. “Run, Bootsi.”

  I darted away, but only to the cover of a pile of nearby crates. As the man stepped down the alley toward Elly, I summoned my deepest, harshest voice.

  “What’s that sound?” I yelled.

  Our pursuer hesitated and glanced over his shoulder.

  “Hand me my club,” I continued. “There’s someone outside. I’ll give him a beating.”

  Then I leaped upon the crates, sending them tumbling down with a clatter.

  That was enough to send the man running back down the alley, and I watched him go, lashing my tail.

  “Who’s there?” Elly said softly, peering into the shadows.

  “It’s me,” I said. “Bootsi.”

  To her credit, she only hesitated a moment before catching me up into her arms. “You can talk?”

  “Yes. And now, we’d best find another place to be, in case that fellow returns.”

  Shaking her head with wonder, Elly tucked me back into the sling and we crept out of the alley. There was no sign of the man who’d chased us, but Elly used much caution until we’d returned to a busier part of the city.

  A night market took up most of an enclosed square. Elly and I wandered through, and I could not help drooling a bit at the delicious scent of meat and fish. To my delight, Elly paused beside a vendor selling skewers of meat and hot potatoes, and handed over a few coppers for our dinner.

  “Excuse me,” she asked the cook, an older woman with gray hair tucked under a kerchief. “Do you know where we might spend the night in safety?”

  The old woman frowned at her. “The city isn’t safe, my dear. Don’t you know that? An ogre has taken up residence in the castle and imprisoned the royal family. You’d best leave while you can.”

  Elly glanced at the crowds around us. “Why is everyone else here, then, if it’s as dangerous as you say?”

  “We’re city dwellers. Where else will we go?” The woman shook her head. “Some have taken ship, a few others gone into the country, but the rest of us suffer here, and wait.”

  “Wait for what?” Elly asked.

  “Why, for someone to come free the king and his family! Someone will, mark my words. In the last fortnight, at least ten heroes have gone into the castle to challenge the ogre.”

  “What happened to them?” Elly’s eyes were wide.

  “The ogre ate them. He’ll eat you too, if you stand about in the streets much longer.”

  With that, the old woman began closing up her cart. I glanced around, to see that the rest of the vendors were doing the same.

  “It’s late,” Elly said. “Might you have a place by the fire where I could spend the night? I’ll leave first thing in the morning, I promise.”

  The old woman wrinkled her nose, but reluctantly agreed that Elly and I could sleep beside her hearth. She led us back to her small house and shared a bit of turnip soup with us for supper, during which time she told Elly how the ogre had come to the city.

  “He can change himself into all manner of creatures,” the woman said. “As a scaly dragon, he charged the castle walls, and they couldn’t stand against him. He commandeered the army, and has got a force of soldiers guarding the castle now. Perhaps he’s not an ogre at all, but a wicked sorcerer.”

  After supper, Elly curled up in a blanket beside the hearth and was soon fast asleep. I, however, lay awake in the dim, smoky hours, staring at the banked coals in the fireplace and devising a plan.<
br />
  As soon as Elly stirred in the morning, I climbed on the blanket and butted her chin with my head.

  “Wake up,” I said quietly. “We’re going to the castle today, to slay the ogre.”

  “What?” She blinked at me.

  “As I told you.” I nudged her fingers until she began to pet me. “All we need to do is get inside the walls. Leave the rest to me.”

  She did not argue, or insist we run away from the city, and I was proud to have a human who displayed such bravery. And one who was willing to listen to me.

  Elly insisted on giving the old woman a silver coin for her hospitality as we bid her farewell.

  “After all,” Elly said as we stepped up the street, “either tonight I’ll have saved the castle or I’ll be eaten by the ogre. Either way, one coin won’t make the difference.”

  I purred loudly to show my approval.

  The nearer we got to the castle, the more empty buildings we saw. Those nobles who could, had fled, and everyone else living near the walls had moved further away. No one wanted to be the ogre’s next snack.

  Elly walked boldly up to the castle gates, with me peeking out of the sling. The guardsmen watched us with suspicious eyes, hands clenched around their pikes and sword hilts.

  “Halt!” cried the soldier guarding the small postern door. “State your business and show your weapons.”

  “I have no weapons,” Elly said. “I’m here to provide amusement for the ogre by showing him my dancing cat.”

  I extended my claws at that, pricking my human’s skin. But it was too late for her to unsay the words.

  “Dancing cat?” The guard squinted. “Show us.”

  The nearby soldiers converged as Elly brought me out of the sling. She set me on the cobbles, whispering a quick apology. I glared at her and lashed my tail, but there was nothing else I could do. We must enter the castle and be granted an audience with the ogre if my plan was going to work.

  “Well?” the guard asked. “Seems like just an ordinary cat.”