How would she deal with this dog at work?
She felt around its neck, but of course, the dog didn’t have a collar. Some people were so irresponsible.
“Why haven’t you got a collar, hmm?” she asked.
The dog seemed reassured by her voice. It moved too, and as it did, she realized it was a he.
Behind her, she heard a low, wolf-like howl. The hair on the back of her neck actually stood up. Even the dog seemed alarmed. Then she realized how precarious her position was. A woman alone in the park after dark, in a secluded wooded area. There were no real wolves in Manhattan, but the human wolves were very dangerous indeed.
She looked at the dog and he looked at her. Apparently they belonged to each other now, at least for the night. She got up, picked up her bike, and straightened its mangled wheel enough so that she could wheel it along.
The dog stood with her, and as she hurried out of the park, he followed faithfully along.
Chapter Four
Blabberwort stepped out of the mirror and onto a grassland. There were trees around her, but they’d been tamed. It was dark here, but it smelled delicious. There was a lovely tang to the air she’d never noticed before. It was almost rotten, at that perfect stage when bad things became delectable.
Bluebell pushed her aside as he climbed out of the mirror, and she was about to turn around and shove him when Burly glared at her. Apparently Burly was still sore that the wolf-man had followed the dog through the mirror first.
“Suck an Elf!” Bluebell shouted from behind her. “Where are we?”
She hadn’t even thought about that. She’d never been here before. She ran her tongue over her broken teeth and stared. Rising above the trees were buildings, and they were filled with light. Even the path ahead of them had a large lamp above it, illuminating the darkness.
What a strange place.
“Get a look at that,” Burly said, pointing at one of the tall buildings. It towered over the others and had lights on its side that were multicolored. It seemed very far away. This appeared to be the only greenery in a sea of buildings.
Blabberwort knew a lot about the Nine Kingdoms. It was her one and only specialty.
“This is not part of the Nine Kingdoms,” she said. “It is a magic place. Look at all those lights.”
“They must have a ton of candles,” Bluebell said.
If this wasn’t part of the Nine Kingdoms, then it was someplace else. Blabberwort smiled at her own logic. And if it was someplace else, then it didn’t have any rulers. She could fix that.
‘ ‘Maybe we should claim this kingdom,’ ’ Blabberwort said.
“That’s a sensational idea!” Burly shouted. “Let’s grab it before anyone else does.”
Blabberwort spread her arms and said in her loudest voice: “I claim this land and all its inhabitants for the Troll Nation. Henceforth it shall be known as ...” She stopped. She wasn’t good at making up names. If she had been, she would have thought of a new one for herself a long time ago. She looked at the others. “What shall we call it?”
“The Tenth Kingdom,” Bluebell said.
Blabberwort grinned. How absolutely perfect. She clapped her tiny brother on his puny back and made him stagger forward a little. Then she looked around for something to help with the celebration of their newfound power.
Farther down the path, a pair of humans sat on a bench. They were scrawny things, fairly young, and they were kissing in that disgusting, mouthy way humans had.
They seemed quite involved.
Blabberwort pointed at them. Burly nodded his approval. He moved Bluebell’s head so that Bluebell could see, and all three of them crept toward the bench. A little mayhem, a little theft, would be the perfect celebration.
Blabberwort reached the couple at the same time her brothers did, and as if they’d planned the whole thing, they shoved the couple around. The woman—hideously blonde—screamed, and the man—with those awful, delicate human features—did nothing to save her. Instead he protected his own face.
Humans. How disgusting they were. Blabberwort decided to punish these two for being part of that ugly race. She got lost in a frenzy of slapping, hitting, and kicking until she realized that her victims were leaning on the bench and moaning.
The woman’s hideous blond hair was covering her ugly face. The man had his head tilted back as if he couldn’t stand it anymore.
“What have we got, then?” Burly asked, as ready, apparently, as Blubberwort was to get to the thieving part of this celebration.
They all grabbed the couple’s feet and stared at the puny white shoes. Blabberwort squeezed one. It was soft and mushy, not at all like a good pair of boots.
“Rubbish!” Bluebell said, disgusted. “Look at these. These aren’t even leather.”
They dropped the couple’s feet, and the man moaned. Burly cuffed him. Bluebell looked at the woman’s jacket. It wasn’t appropriately Troll-like, but it had a certain charm to it. It had the emblem of some ruler across it. Bluebell pulled it off.
Blabberwort didn’t like the fact that her brother had gotten one of the choice items. She grabbed the bag that had been between the couple.
“Any more shoes in here?” she asked the semi-conscious couple. When they didn’t answer, she dumped the bag’s contents on the ground. Boxes of powder and tiny metal tubes and papers fell to the dirt. So did a big black box.
“What’s this?” Blabberwort picked up the box. It felt smooth. It was made of a material she’d never touched before.
Nice. Solid. Strong.
The man sat up slightly and she swung the box at him, hitting him in the head. He fell back, but the box seemed to come alive. It vibrated, and then high-pitched voices and music came out, singing a very catchy tune about nights and fevers.
She felt herself move involuntarily to the music. As she looked, her brothers were doing the same thing.
“More magic!” Burly shouted.
They continued to bounce to the music. How wonderful it was. But of course, Bluebell had to ruin it. He looked at Blabberwort and Burly.
“Come on, bring it with us,” Bluebell said. “We must find the Prince before he gets away.”
Blabberwort sighed. She wanted to stay here. But she knew their father would be very angry if they did.
Burly stared down at the humans on the bench. “You are now our slaves. Remain here until we return.”
The couple put their arms around each other, slowly, as if it hurt. Blabberwort followed her brothers away from the bench, but she couldn’t resist one look back.
There, on the back of the bench, illuminated in the strange light, was her brother Bluebell’s handwriting. In some kind of chalk he’d scrawled: Trolls Rool.
Blabberwort grinned. Trolls rule. Yes, indeed they did.
Virginia was feeling a little stiff and sore as she walked. In addition to the cut on her head, which ached, there were other bruises that were beginning to make themselves known. Her bike was making a scraping sound, and the poor dog was still following her.
She had no idea how long she had been unconscious. Probably long enough for someone to mug her and she wouldn’t even have noticed. At that thought, she felt inside her coat pocket and groaned.
“My wallet ...”
The dog looked at her as if she had said something important. She stopped, sighed, and turned around. She doubted she had been mugged. She was still wearing her necklace, after all, and any garden-variety mugger would have taken wallet and jewelry. Which meant that the wallet had to be lying on the ground next to the accident site.
She started walking in that direction. The dog glanced at her again, as if he were questioning her judgment. But a dog couldn’t do that, could he? She decided not to worry about it.
As she reached a small grouping of trees, she saw something. Green and flashing. It almost looked like a pair of eyes. The wind had built up and it was cold. The night seemed even darker than it had before.
The dog was st
ill looking at her as if she were crazy.
“Leave it,” she said to herself. “You’ll never find it now.” She turned around again, and this time she ran to the edge of the park. The dog trotted to keep up with her.
Fortunately, the Grill on the Green was as close to Central Park as a restaurant legally could be. She went around the back and leaned her bike in the alley. The familiar scents of grease and beer wafted out of the kitchen, and the lights were reassuring.
Virginia went inside, leaving the door to the alley open as it usually was. The cook ignored her, as usual, but as she walked by the grill, Candy came into the kitchen. When she saw Virginia, she let fly, just as Virginia knew she would.
“Where have you been?” Candy asked. “I’ve been covering for you—”
Then Candy stopped. She had almost reached Virginia. “Your head! You’re bleeding.”
She air-touched Virginia’s forehead. Virginia ducked so that Candy wouldn’t irritate the wound.
“I smashed my bike,” Virginia said. “And I lost my wallet. And I’ve picked up a new boyfriend.”
The dog was standing in the doorway, his tail between his legs. He looked groggy and a bit overwhelmed.
‘ ‘Oh, aren’t you the cutest cooch’ ms?’ ’ Candy said, hurrying to the dog. She crouched by him and started petting him. “What a lovely doggy.”
“I hit him with my bike, but I think he’s okay,” Virginia said. “He’s not bleeding or anything.”
Candy seemed to have a serious dog fetish. She was ruffling the fur around the dog’s face, and the dog was looking both baffled and tortured.
“Don’t let the boss see him in here,” Candy said. “What’s his name?”
“I don’t know,” Virginia said. “He hasn’t got a collar.” Candy stared at the dog for a moment, then said, “He looks like a Prince to me.” She patted the dog. “Hello, Prince.” Virginia grabbed a tissue off a nearby counter. “Hello,
Prince,” she said, thinking Candy was right. The name did sound appropriate.
The dog preened just a little.
Virginia dabbed at her cut with the tissue, and was relieved to see it hadn’t bled any more. Candy got up and grabbed a piece of hamburger off one of the plates stacked haphazardly by the busboy. She went to Prince and waved the hamburger in front of his nose.
He looked at it with complete disgust.
Candy glanced over her shoulder at Virginia, surprised. Virginia shrugged. She didn’t pretend to understand that dog. She wasn’t really sure she wanted to.
Blabberwort smelled blood. Fresh blood. And, it seemed, Burly did so at the same time.
“Here!” Burly hurried to a spot on the path where there was the blood, yes, the smell of dog, yes, and some scraps of metal lying about. “There’s been an ... incident.”
Blabberwort hurried to his side. She didn’t want him to get all the goodies. Of course, Bluebell was lagging slightly behind.
Burly was looking at all the shiny things. But Blabberwort saw a dark shape in the grass. “Lookee look!”
She scooped it up before her brothers could get it. Leather. It was very good leather. She held it to her nose and sniffed, enjoying the marvelous fragrance.
“Calfskin,” Blabberwort said. “Nice. Squeaky clean.”
Burly watched with obvious disappointment that he hadn’t found the leather. Bluebell was standing as close as he could get without touching the prize.
Blabberwort decided to torture them with it. She held it out slightly and examined it. It wasn’t a shoe, that was for sure. It was something else. And it had strange things inside.
Bluebell grabbed the square and opened it. He pulled papers and things out of it, throwing them to the ground. Blabberwort looked at them, but they all seemed useless to her.
Finally, when the square was empty, Bluebell brought it close to his face. He squinted his beady eyes at it. “If found please return to Virginia Lewis,” Bluebell read, “Apartment 17a, No. 2, East 81st Street.”
Ah. Blabberwort grinned. Finally. A destination.
Bright lights, strange roaring sounds, a metal object three times the size of a house hurtling at him on a strangely covered street. Wolf stood at the edge of the grass and watched everything. He had never seen so many lights in his life. Or so many magical things. Carriages of all shapes and sizes that moved under their own power. Buildings with all sorts of exotic names. Smells such as he had never encountered before.
“Well, huff-puff,” he said in admiration. “What a place!”
He wanted to follow all of the smells—he even wanted to roll in some—but he banished that thought quickly. He liked to think of himself as an enhanced human, but sometimes his animal natures got the better of him.
They couldn’t here, though. He wouldn’t allow it. He had a job to do, and he would do it, just as he was supposed to.
He sniffed, separating out all the scents, labeling and identifying the ones he could. Then he caught one that made his stomach growl. “Meat!”
How long had it been since he’d had real meat? Not gruel, not that prison slop, but real, tasty succulent meat?
He honestly didn’t know.
He scanned the area around him until he saw the place where the smell was coming from. It was well lit, and even the sign above it had lights hidden behind it. Grill on the Green.
He hurried over to it and stopped outside. The window glass was smooth and clear, and provided a lovely view of the tables inside. Two rather plump humans had plates before them heaped with food. The woman right beside him was eating a steak. Rare.
Saliva formed in his mouth and he started to drool. Oh, those animal natures. He hated drooling, but he couldn’t stop himself. He licked his lips and could almost taste the steak that woman was eating.
How wonderful. How spectacular.
“Don’t forget what you’re here for,” he said to himself. He had to control those animal natures. Had to control those desires. Had to stop thinking about steak. “Find the Prince.” The woman took another bite. She looked at him, her expression both annoyed and disgusted. No human should look at him that way. He pressed his face closer to the glass.
“But huff-puff,” he muttered, “a wolf’s got to eat, hasn’t he? Can’t work on an empty stomach.”
He made his way from the window to the door, pushed it open, and stepped inside. It was as if he had entered a smorgasbord of smells. Chicken, fish, even a bit of fresh lamb. Mmmm. His stomach growled again in anticipation.
Then another smell wafted over the top.
“I smell dog!” Wolf said out loud. “Would you believe it? Work and pleasure combined.”
The woman stared at him as if he were a crazy man. Slowly she removed the piece of steak from her mouth. He resisted the urge to steal her meat. If she was going to waste it, he should have it, shouldn’t he? Shouldn’t he?
Maybe he should go for the dog first. Maybe he could grab a snack as he did so. Maybe.
Work and pleasure. He had been right. This job was getting better and better all the time.
Chapter Five
Virginia’s forehead still tingled where she had put some antiseptic on her cut. Now she had to take care of Prince before the boss found him. She didn’t want to leave the dog in the alley, so she led him to the storeroom. The boss never went in there.
It was dark and rather dingy, with large restaurant-quantity cans of everything from chicken broth to garbanzo beans cluttering the shelves. There was a dry-food smell in here and, like every other building this close to the Park, an ever-so-faint odor of mice.
At least, she liked to think it was mice. Although she knew it was probably rats.
Prince stopped at the door. She had to force him to come inside. He did, his tail still lowered. Was he in pain? He hadn’t really wagged his tail since she careened into him on her bike.
“Now don’t make a sound,” Virginia said, crouching so that she could face the dog. He really did have the most intelligent eyes. She almo
st believed he could understand her. “I’ll come back when I can and check on you. Don’t make a noise or you’ll get me the sack.”
Prince barked. Virginia grabbed him.
“Shhh! Or I’ll put you outside.”
He seemed to like that even less. He sat down and looked at her with the saddest, most mature expression she had ever seen on a dog’s face. She almost—almost—apologized, but she always thought less of people who apologized to their pets.
Not, she hastened to remind herself, that he was her pet. But he was her responsibility.
She left the storage room without looking back, so that the guilt wouldn’t get her. Then she took the staff keys off the wall, and locked the door. That way, the boss wouldn’t inadvertently find Prince, and Prince—with that sharp brain of his— wouldn’t figure out a way to get out.
Virginia wiped her hands, grabbed an order pad, and stuck it in her apron along with a pen. Then she went out into the crowd.
Candy had all the tables because Virginia had been so late. And, since Virginia had to clean up, Candy was taking the newcomers as well. The guilt got Virginia again. She would have to help with side orders, salads, and drinks until the workload evened out.
There were two new tables, a large group of rowdy people who were banging their menus for attention, and a good-looking guy toward the back of the room. Of course Candy went to him first. Virginia frowned. Good-looking but strange. Something about his eyes didn’t seem quite human.
She shook off the thought. Maybe her head was injured worse than she thought. She seemed to be reading a lot into eyes tonight.
She went to the rowdy table and pulled out her order pad and pen. Just as she was about to take the order, she heard a crash from in the back.
From the storage room.
She cursed under her breath and left the man, in the middle of ordering his drinks, to shout after her. She ran for the kitchen. The cook looked up from the grill, his face shiny with sweat.
The 10th Kingdom Page 4
