Enter a Glossy Web Page 23

  Arlo growled and shifted, causing Henrietta to stumble back against him.

  George inhaled so sharply she almost choked. Her gaze darted from Henrietta to Nero, and then to Constantine.

  “Choose now, Constantine,” Nero said. “Your wife or the Els—one must go.”

  Henrietta gasped with outrage, finally showing a bit of temper. “Shame on you, Nero! Shame on you for asking such a thing of him! Especially you!”

  Lucy remained silent and watchful, but a storm began to brew behind Mr. Night’s face.

  Constantine looked tortured, and his voice cracked when he replied. “I cannot sacrifice one to save the other, Nero.”

  “Not even when one is your wife?” Nero asked, for half a heartbeat seeming truly bewildered. “Then you deserve to lose her.”

  “Nero, you must fight against your grief and madness! Without the Council, the worlds will be destroyed by the showers, and I will not allow that. I do not want there to be bloodshed between us. Do not force my hand!”

  “But I must. Don’t you see? I have no choice. I have nothing. No title, no authority, no people, no place to belong in all the countless worlds. I am Loeta. Alone.” He paused and took a deep breath, and his eyes began to burn with anger. “I will not be alone, Constantine. Not anymore. Vo.”

  “Sir?” the man with the wild hair asked.

  “Secure the room for me. If they resist,” Nero said, “kill them. Arlo, get rid of the old woman and assist Vo.”

  Henrietta’s breathing quickened.

  A bitter taste rose in George’s throat, and she tightened her fingers around Cavendish so hard he squeaked. Caleb and Mikal exchanged a quick, meaningful look.

  Nero lifted his cane and tugged on the handle. A long, razor-sharp blade slid out, and he leisurely withdrew it. “Leave the Timekeeper to me.” He tossed the sheath aside, took a step forward, and thrust the sword into Constantine’s belly.

  Or it would have been Constantine’s belly, but Yorick, who had been standing next to him, leapt clumsily forward. Nero’s blade glanced off Yorick’s spine, missing Constantine by inches. Nero wrenched the sword within Yorick’s rib cage, and the loyal skeleton collapsed noisily into a jumbled pile of bones.

  The geese honked and scattered at the ruckus, and a wicked smile split Nero’s face, but Constantine didn’t see it.

  As soon as the skeleton hit the ground, Constantine had gone down after it, limber as a dancer. He rose in an instant, holding one of Yorick’s long femurs in his hand. “I didn’t want it to come to this, Nero.”

  Nero laughed outright as he saw Constantine’s makeshift sword, and he attacked viciously with his gleaming rapier.

  But Constantine hadn’t lied about his skill, and he deftly fended off each of Nero’s strikes with the giant skeleton’s oversized thighbone.

  Before Arlo could decide how to “get rid” of Henrietta, she drove her sharp elbow into his gut, stomped down hard on his instep, and slammed the back of her fist into his nose.

  He doubled over and blood spurted from his nose as the knife fell from his grip.

  Then, in a blur of orange curls, George charged and set to pummeling him over the head with Cavendish. “You leave my aunt Henrietta alone! Leave her alone!”

  “Take THAT, you behemoth! And that too!” Cavendish bellowed as George smacked him against Arlo’s ear.

  He roared and rose up to his imposing height.

  Caleb sprinted to the fireplace and returned seconds later wielding a fire shovel in one hand and a poker in the other. He swung the shovel at Arlo’s chest, but the henchman batted it away and knocked Caleb to the ground with a single blow. Before Caleb could recover, Arlo lifted his giant foot and put it firmly against Caleb’s throat.

  Caleb’s legs kicked and his fingers clawed at Arlo’s boot as he fought for breath. He heard George and Mikal yelling, but he couldn’t see them because his vision started to go hazy.

  Constantine’s and Nero’s weapons rang as they dueled their way around the library, each determined to gain the upper hand. Constantine advanced on Nero, but Nero rapidly parried the attack, forcing Constantine back between two bookcases, where he floundered, too long-limbed to defend himself in the tight space.

  Mikal scrambled for the poker Caleb had dropped and jabbed the sharp end as hard as he could into Arlo’s thigh.

  Arlo yelped and stumbled, freeing Caleb, who lay blue-faced and limp as a wilted daisy.

  Henrietta snatched the poker from Mikal and, with careful aim, swung it so hard across Arlo’s shins that it broke in two. He howled with agony and collapsed to his knees.

  As Arlo went down, Mikal caught a glancing blow from the man’s elbow on the side of his face. He tumbled to the floor and lay stunned for a moment.

  George shrieked with fury when she saw Mikal land next to Caleb, and with all the strength a twelve-year-old girl can muster, she bashed Cavendish straight against the back of Arlo’s head.

  Cavendish’s case cracked, and Arlo went very still. Then he let out a sigh and fell forward in a limp daze.

  “I’m okay! Nobody panic!” Cavendish called.

  Henrietta, in a flurry of motion, yanked off her apron and used it to tie Arlo’s wrists behind his back.

  George sank down beside Caleb and Mikal.

  Mikal, left eye already swelling shut, had shaken off the blow from Arlo’s elbow and was kneeling by Caleb, who lay terribly still.

  Henrietta crouched low and took Caleb’s wrist. She felt his pulse, leaned close, and put her ear next to his chest, then his mouth, listening hard for any sign of life.

  Across the room Constantine was still cornered, and his assailant was closing in quick. Nero struck out with his slender blade, faster than a diving falcon, but Constantine managed to raise the heavy femur before his face just in time to catch the worst of the impact. A sliver of red appeared above his cheek where the needlelike tip of Nero’s rapier still vibrated with the force of the crash.

  “WELL?” Cavendish demanded frantically as Henrietta pulled away from Caleb.

  “Is he.…” George began, but couldn’t get the words past her lips.

  “He’ll live,” Henrietta said, and then she darted off to help the others.

  George and Mikal looked down and saw Caleb watching them, his gray eyes mischievous. “Did we win?” he asked in a rough whisper.

  George’s whole body drooped with relief.

  Mikal grinned so wide his good eye squeezed shut too. “Not yet.” He retrieved his poker and scampered across the room to where the battle still waged.

  “I’ll be back!” George said, leaving Cavendish and springing up to follow Mikal.

  “Wait for me,” Caleb croaked, and began to struggle to his feet.

  Before Nero could rally, Constantine shoved him back hard enough to send him flailing away. Constantine dodged around him and back into the open.

  By this time Vo’s first victim, Mr. Night, was out cold and slumped over the desk. Mr. Neptune, squealing with panic, had taken refuge beneath it.

  Vo had Lucy cornered when Henrietta arrived. She barreled into the giant henchman, throwing him off balance just enough for Lucy to escape. He spun around, grabbed Henrietta by the elbow, and tossed her aside like a rag doll.

  “Constantine!” Lucy shouted.

  Constantine took in the situation with a glance. He dashed away from the fight with Nero, straight through the flock of geese, toward Vo.

  Nero attempted to follow his prey, but now the geese were angry, and they assailed him with a vengeance.

  As Constantine reached Vo, he struck out with the femur. The knives Vo had unstrapped were knocked from his grasp.

  “Constantine!” Lucy shouted again. “The stairs!”

  Constantine understood at once, and he began fencing Vo toward Lucy so rapidly, it was all the henchman could do to keep his feet under him.

  Lucy flung open the dungeon door, and with one last thrust of Constantine’s weapon, Vo lurched backward, his arms windmilling a
s he tried to regain his balance on the top step.

  But Lucy didn’t give him a chance to recover. She reached out and shoved against his barrel-chest.

  With a wordless cry, Vo tumbled down the stone stairs and into the darkness.

  Lucy slammed the door and turned the key in the lock.

  Constantine spun on his heel and rushed back to his fight with Nero, who had finally escaped the wrath of the geese.

  Mikal ran up to join Constantine.

  Nero stood panting under the glass ceiling. Stray feathers were clinging to his sweaty face, and he was covered in welting goose bites. His sword was lost, claimed by the fowl, and he no longer laughed.

  Constantine shook with exhaustion as he held the femur before him.

  “What’s this?” Nero said. “Two against one? That isn’t very sporting.”

  Mikal scowled at him and mimicked Constantine’s posture, using the poker.

  “Your men are down, Nero. You have no choice but to surrender,” Constantine said.

  Lucy and Henrietta came up then, Henrietta limping and Lucy supporting her as best she could. George ran up beside Mikal, and even Mr. Neptune crawled from his hiding place.

  Nero looked at all their faces, but his gaze lingered on George. “You…,” he muttered. Then he swallowed hard and began edging away. “It has just occurred to me that today may not be a good day to sort out old misunderstandings.” He reached one hand into his pocket and glanced down at his wristwatch. “Ah! Ten forty-nine PM! If you let me go, you might have time to re-form your precious Council. Besides, you still hope I’ll repent someday, don’t you, old friend?” He gave Constantine a cocky wink.

  “You can’t escape, Nero,” Constantine said. “The way is sealed.”

  “Ah, but I am a man who always has a plan!” Nero pulled his hand from his pocket, and in his palm sat a tiny crystal cube. “A man who always has a way out!”

  The adults gasped with dismay, but George and Mikal just watched in confusion, and then with great interest, as they noticed Caleb creeping feebly up behind Nero. He had caught his second wind, gotten to his feet, and was ready to rejoin the fight.

  “I had hoped to avoid using this. I’m sure you can imagine they’re harder to come by now than they used to be, and I haven’t got many left. Oh well. I suppose it can’t be helped. I’d like you to remember, Constantine, that this was only a battle. I excel at wars.” Nero began to squeeze the crystal cube just as Caleb attacked.

  They fell to the floor in a thrashing heap. Caleb grabbed at Nero’s hand, inadvertently crushing it around the cube. Then an empty black rectangle appeared below Nero, and he fell into it with a thud, disappearing into darkness.

  Caleb scrambled back, startled and disconcerted.

  Then Nero’s laughter came from the blackness. “I told you, Constantine. I’m a man who always has a way— What is that?” His voice was edged with panic. “Where have you sent me, boy?” And then the screaming started, only to cease immediately as the rectangle disappeared.

  Tension sizzled in the room as echoes of Nero’s cries died away.

  “What did I do?” Caleb asked, still struggling on the ground, a horrified look on his face.

  Constantine shook his head sadly. “You’re not at fault, boy. Nero held a Portable Moor within his hand. You activate it by touch while thinking of where you want to go, and that is where it’ll take you. By grabbing Nero’s hand, you must have rerouted it. Where could you have sent him?”

  “I didn’t mean to send him anywhere!” Caleb insisted.

  “Yes … I’m sure that’s true,” Constantine said, twirling the end of his mustache as he stared thoughtfully at the place where Nero had vanished. Then he sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “We can discuss that later, I suppose. It will need to be discussed.”

  Caleb shoved his hands through his hair, his expression confused and unsettled. George helped him to his feet. “But I thought Portable Moors were illegal. Cavendish said—”

  “They are illegal!” Cavendish interrupted from where he lay on the floor.

  Mikal scurried to retrieve him.

  “I’m afraid Cavendish was right,” Constantine said. “They’ve long been forbidden because they allow unrestricted access to places they ought not.”

  “How would Nero have gotten ahold of something like that if it’s illegal?” Caleb asked.

  “Yes, Constantine,” Henrietta said, giving him a strange look. “How would he have gotten ahold of one? Production has been forbidden for ages now, and punishable by lifelong incarceration. The last of them were supposed to have been destroyed.”

  “Nero’s had a lot of time in the past hundred years to get up to mischief. Perhaps tracking down what few Portable Moors remained was part of that mischief. It would certainly explain some things. I’m afraid to imagine what other outlawed devices he may have collected.” He tugged hard on his collar.

  “Do you think he got away?” Mikal asked, returning with Cavendish.

  “It sure didn’t sound like it,” Caleb said.

  “But if he did, what’s to keep him from being drawn here like he was before?” George asked. “Won’t he try to come back?”

  “I’m rather sure the bond that drew him back to Chrone Cottage will be officially broken when the Els replace him as Judge,” Constantine said. “You can deactivate the invisible door now, Phinneus. I believe we’re secure.”

  Suddenly George realized she had her aunt Henrietta back, and she launched herself into her aunt’s arms. “You’re safe! You’re back, and you’re safe!”

  “Shh, child. Of course I am.” Henrietta brushed George’s hair from her forehead with a soft hand.

  George laughed with relief. “Do you want to meet Caleb and Mikal?”

  “I absolutely do!” Henrietta said.

  But first Constantine draped an arm around Henrietta’s shoulder and looked intently into her eyes.

  Henrietta stared back at him and patted his weathered cheek before turning her attention to Caleb and Mikal. She took Mikal’s chin gently and turned his face to the light. “Heavens to Betsy, would you look at that eye? I’ve never seen such a majestic shiner! And you, Caleb! Those are some nasty marks on your throat. Such warriors, these three!” Then she wrapped them all in a warm embrace.

  Caleb and Mikal blushed crimson while George grinned so hard her cheeks hurt.

  “Thank you for the raincoats,” Mikal said shyly.

  “It was very kind of you to think of us,” Caleb said.

  “Pish posh! Kind indeed!” she said indignantly. “Now, is everyone all right?”

  George looked around the room. Constantine seemed to be regaining his sense of humor. Mr. Night had come to and was kneeling next to Arlo, binding his feet securely. Mr. Neptune, looking shaken, was disabling the shield. Lucy was soothing her agitated geese. Mikal and Caleb were bruised, but bruised well enough to brag about. Cavendish was chattering away to anyone who would listen about how he had earned the crack in his casing by downing a giant. Everyone seemed to be fine. But then George’s eyes fell on the pile of bones.

  “Yorick didn’t make it,” she said sadly. “What are we going to do without a Recorder?”

  “Don’t fress, dear,” Henrietta said. She took the femur from Constantine and placed it gently onto the jumbled heap of skeleton.

  Then the pile clattered, and there was Yorick, unjumbling and reassembling right before their eyes.

  “It happens occasionally,” Constantine said. “Yorick falls right to pieces at the slightest thing. He hasn’t anything to hold him together, you see.” Then he patted the skeleton on the clavicle and thanked him for the use of his thighbone.

  “Is everybody ready to take their positions and re-form the Council?” Henrietta asked.

  There were nods and murmurs of consent all around.

  “Wait!” Mikal said. “There aren’t enough people. We’re still missing the Guide!”

  “We’re missing no such thing,” Cavendish said in a s
mug voice.

  “He’s right,” Constantine said. “When I saw how Cavendish matured on your journey, I realized he had the potential to grow into a worthy Guide. That’s why I instructed him to stay with Lucy while you entered Astria. I needed to have a conversation with him and conduct his interview.”

  “Cavendish!” George said. “Was that your secret? Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “I wanted it to be a surprise!” Cavendish said.

  “Way to go, Cav,” Caleb said, giving him a congratulatory pat.

  “I always knew you were important,” Mikal said.

  “I’m proud of you, Cavendish,” George said.

  “He still has a lot to learn, but I trust that he has what it takes. And now we should finish what we came here for, so it’s time for a bit of ceremony,” Constantine said.

  “Yes, we really should have some punch to make it official, don’t you think, my love?” Henrietta asked.

  Just then, a flaming black rock crashed through the ceiling, showering glass onto their heads and pulverizing Lucy’s desk.

  Cavendish squeaked with alarm. “The time is now eleven oh three PM DWT. You currently have eight minutes until DEATH DEATH DEATH!”

  “We’ll have punch later,” Henrietta said.

  “Of course, Chicken,” Constantine said. “Everyone to the center of the room now. That’s right. Into the circle. You too, children.”

  The kids nervously stepped into the ring of light falling from where the glass ceiling had been a moment ago.

  “Very good,” Constantine said. “We know that the Els will hold the position of Judge. Lucy, you will serve as Justice. You will dole out reward and punishment, with the advice of your sisters. Lucretia, in her great age and wisdom, will act as Mercy, pleading the case of those accused. Lue, with the brashness of youth, will act as Critic, condemning those who have done wrong.”

  Lucy, holding a book over her head to protect herself from falling shards, nodded, and Constantine continued.

  “Dear Henrietta is our Innocent,” he said, smiling lovingly at her.

  “Yes, but do hurry, my dear,” Henrietta murmured as scorched stars rained down.