Читать книгу The Longest Halloween, Book Two - Frank Wood - Страница 3

Halloween: King Leonidas’s palace grounds, Portugal, at the close of the nineteenth century

Leonidas strode through the ruined palace doors. It was hard enough to see his kingdom in smoldering ruins but to also see his palace gutted and desecrated … it was almost too much for him. He could feel the mounting tension in his ten sons, who followed him into the palace, talking of vengeance and restitution for this grave insult. Leonidas focused on the women and children who had been left behind to stand up against this plunder.

His first stop was the anteroom where his oldest grandchild was recovering from wounds sustained in the battle with the interlopers. “Grandpapa,” he called from the bed amidst his worried attendants, “I fought bravely against the pirates.”

“There’s my little warrior,” Leonidas said, his eyes filling as he gently stroked his ailing grandson’s dark locks of hair. “Never will I be worried to leave my kingdom in such small but capable hands.”

“He got away with Tia, though,” the boy said.

“You don’t worry about Tia,” Leonidas assured, “we’ll see to her safety. You rest. Get your strength back, wolf.”

“Yes, Grandpapa.”

Leonidas rose from the bedside, more incensed than ever.

His sons clustered about him. “We must destroy this one, Papa,” one son seethed. “Say the word, we’ll amass our navy and chase him to the very gates of Sheol!”

“You stay with your son, mi hijo,” Leonidas ordered. “The pirate will not escape us.”

“Papa, he has our women and he has our treasure, the treasure of Venga Tu Reinu!”

“I know what he has, son,” Leonidas returned vociferously. “He will not escape!”

Elsewhere, Sebastian Silverbeard tended to the wounds he had received in the battle with the young prince, the prince who had dared to stand in the way of his ultimate plan to make off with the Forever Kingdom treasure. Above him on the deck, the boys had begun the merriment and the carousing. He glanced at the treasure chest, carefully stowed away with his traveling wares. He hadn’t had second thoughts about what he aimed to do until just now; and while the mateys would indeed hate him for it, it had to be done, nonetheless. They weren’t his native crew anyway, he didn’t owe them a thing; and in the end, it was always every pirate for himself.

“Take this to the boat,” he ordered his accomplice—the ship’s cook, Anderson.

“Cap’n!” a loud voice called from outside the cabin.

“Wot now?” Anderson asked.

“Just take that and go,” Silverbeard ordered. “Wait for my lead!”

Anderson disappeared with the bags that Silverbeard had shoved in his direction.

“Cap’n!” a voice called again. Jeremiah Needlander, his would-be first mate, flung the door open and lolled his long body against the doorframe.

“The boys ‘ave warmed the deck, won’ ye come and join us in splicin’ the mainbrace?”

“Aye, matey, I can think of nothing I’d desire more,” Silverbeard replied.

“She’s beautiful, ain’t she though?” Drunk, Needlander sloppily crashed to his knees before the ornate treasure box.

“That she be, matey.” Silverbeard forcibly removed his mate’s hand from stroking the treasure chest. “She’ll serve us for many a year to come.”

“Yes, she will at that,” Needlander agreed, hoisting to his feet. He threw all of his considerable weight about the captain’s thick neck. “Come an’ join us, Cap’n.”

“Aye, and bring up the lassies too!” Silverbeard said.

“Capital suggestion!” Needlander returned with a smile.

With his crew distracted by the lovely prisioners taken from Portugal, Sebastian Silverbeard saw his opportunity and took it. It didn’t take him long to complete the gathering up his wares, including the treasure chest, and load them into one of the lifeboats, aided by his loyal cook Anderson. By the time he and Anderson made contact with the waters below, the celebration was in high gear. It was no small thing for a captain to leave his ship, but Silverbeard had captured the ultimate treasure. All else was pittance.

“Farewell, me hearties,” he growled low as he heaved away from the ship, “fair winds and high seas to ye.”

Back in Portugal, Leonidas completed his ritual, one that he he didn’t perform as often as he would like. Rare was the time now when he tapped into his wizarding background, but current circumstances had forced his hand. With eyes deep in concentration and muscles of his face drawn taut, the king murmured an inscrutable incantation to enchant the purloined treasure chest. With the spell complete, though the pirate believed himself to be the victor, he would never be able to enjoy the spoils of his triumph. The chest would not open to him or to anyone, not for at least a century, far past the time of natural living. In the end, Leonidas would have the last laugh. The spell pronounced and the treasure chest sealed, Leonidas’s heart was a bit lighter as he emerged from his chambers. But such news greeted him next that would dispel any respite from the debacle.

“Sire, we tried to alert you, but you were predisposed,” one of his stewards spoke.

“What happened?” Leonidas asked.

“The princes,” the steward sighed, “all of them … they’ve taken our best galleons… . they’ve given chase to the pirates!”

“Fools!” Leonidas exploded. It was too late to do anything now. His sons had the advantage of a remarkable head start and would give swift pursuit to the pirate armada. Their high seas battle rocked the Atlantic Ocean; pirates and princes locked in conflict were a battle for the ages. Though the pirates had the strength of their victory, the princes not only had the furor of the wronged, but they also brought something else to the battle … the fury of the wolf. The pirates had contended without the knowledge that the sons of Leonidas were more than mere princes; they were werewolves, powerful and mighty, who could tear a man apart with their talons, jaws and fangs. And though the pirates eventually would fall in defeat to the lupine princes, the sons of Leonidas would come up empty handed in the quest for their father’s stolen treasure.

It was a cold night as the somber howls of werewolves cut the stillness of the now-peaceful, lapping water that had claimed all of Silverbeard’s mighty armada as her own … all but one small vessel whose crew had been wise enough to see that they were indeed up against a force they had underestimated. Now led by the first mate Jeremiah Needlander, that crew’s fate would be even more dire.

Among the maidens their pirates had taken from the Portugese kingdom was the sister to the king, the Princess Lavinniah. As Leonidas was a wizard, she was a witch and a devious one at that, for long had she plotted against her brother. Even as she was wont to pronounce her final curse on the surviving pirates who had plundered her home, maimed her people, stolen from her brother, escaped her nephews’ onslaught and fled the battle early, instead she devised a more devious plan. She opted to use these surviving pirates to aid her in overthrowing her brother, the king. She would feign love for their leader, the one named Needlander, in hopes of ensnaring him in her plot. But the ultimate irony would be on her, for she would indeed fall in love with the dark pirate and ride the seas with him and his crew, wreaking all sorts of horrid terror. She nearly forgot her anger toward her brother the king.

By chance, off the coast of North America one chill night, their ship the RachelleLee crossed paths with a lone vessel stranded in the cold blue seas. The pirates’ interest was piqued by the royal crest of the vessel.

“Wot did ye find?” Needlander asked his search party as the Rachelle Lee sidled up to the smaller vessel.

“Just these old baubles, Jeremiah,” Tommy Two Hands answered, holding up purple robes.

Lavinniah interpolated herself between the two. “Let me see that!” she hissed, examining the clothes.

“Wot is it, lass?”

“I know these garments,” Lavinniah said. “What else did you find down there?”

“Just a sleeping sailor …” Tommy Two Hands reported, “who’s seen better days, I’d wager, from the looks of it.”

Lavinniah insisted on inspecting the vessel, and more importantly, this sailor. She ventured onto the vessel with Needlander and they entered the cabin. She gave a start as she saw the emaciated form bound below.

“Brother!” she gasped.

“Lavinniah,” the sailor replied, ”Gracias a Deus!”

“It’s my brother,” she whispered to Needlander.

“The king?” Needlander asked.

Lavinniah and Needlander wined and dined the stranded king royally. Leonidas had set out in search of his sons and had lost all of his crew to the plague. Had it not been for the fact that he had drunk from the elixir of life, which ran bountifully in the Forever Kingdom, he too would have perished. For her part, Lavinniah’s thirst for his treasure and his birthright was sparked anew. Exceptionally grateful for rescue, Leonidas failed to reckon with his sister’s still-burning hate. Mostly she hated him because he refused to grant her what she desired most—free and unobstructed access to the fountain of youth. Lavinniah was quite vain, truth be told.

But Leonidas was oblivious to this and in one careless moment, he let slip to the devious couple that he had placed a curse on the Forever Kingdom treasure, a curse that would prohibit its opening for centuries at a time. Lavinniah promptly enlisted Needlander in a plot to destroy her brother and to take back the treasure for themselves upon its reopening one hundred years later. But first, she would persuade her brother to bestow the gift of longevity on the entire crew, as such it was in his power to do, having this elixir in his possession as well. Next to the elixir of youth, the elixir of longevity was the best thing to have swirling through one’s veins.

“It’s the ultimate revenge, my love,” she told him.”For you, against a captain who deserted you and for me, against a brother who never recognized me for my full potential.”

Leonidas indeed shared with his sister, Needlander and all of Needlander’s crew his elixir of longevity. They had rescued him from sure oblivion on the frosty Atlantic seas. “Tonight, I feel that we are as one,” he said, leading them in downing portions of the mystical juice. “Drink with me, sister and brother and all the rest of you; but understand that with longevity often comes surprises you may not have anticipated.”

Leonidas’s final words were lost on Lavinniah, Needlander and the other pirates, who were busy relishing the prospects of long and treasure-filled lives … you see, pirates as a rule did not tend to live very long, so this was quite a gift indeed from the rescued king. Once they consumed the longevity elixir, all gratitude was over and Lavinniah and Needlander wasted no time in moving forward with the next steps in their plan. They plotted to do away with Leonidas in his sleep, but as the king was a light sleeper, their intent was discovered and he was able to defend himself against their onslaught mightily.

A terrific and spectacular battle between the spurned lovers and the king without a kingdom ensued, and in the end, Leonidas was able to call upon the mighty west wind to extricate his sister up, up, and deposit her far away. Aided by the wind, King Leonidas sent Needlander and his crew into a powerful vortex of forgetfulness, where they would be destined to sail round and round until such time as the vortex lost its whirl.

Leonidas himself washed ashore, nearly spent, displaced from the Rachelle Lee during the course of the battle with his sister and the pirate. The elixir of longevity had been lost to him forever when he fell overboard. Yet he found mercy in the quiet hovel of a fisherman who nursed the king back to health. This fisherman possessed the power to grant continued life, but only with a price. As Leonidas lay near death—a place to which he had never been so close before—he agreed to pay that price. Initially Leonidas had thought his fortune truly wonderful, cared for by a benefactor who could give him what he thought was lost to him forever when he fell off the ship. But once he learned the cost of his decision, Leonidas may very well have wished that he had never condoned such a contract.

The House of Ghouls, October 30^th, ten years ago

The mood in the old hall was somber and austere. As the gathered denizens held their breaths in anticipation, a woman was brought forward. Her hair a bright magenta hue, she wore a tight, long, dark-green dress that spilled onto the stony floor in a lengthy train. Her face was set, proud and defiant. Gathered about her were her children, all boys, cretinous and wolfen in their appearance. Her sister, equally garish and holding her own raven-haired son, stood by her side. The witch Zeldabub strode into the room and met their countenances with her own steely reserve. She nodded to the small troll who held a scroll in his hands, waiting for her nod.

He began to read from the scroll. “Leticia Corvalis and Latrease Samuels, be it herefore decided on this thirtieth day of October that you both have been found to be in violation of the Halloween laws.” He continued, “Your crimes against the House of Ghouls as committed with your estranged husbands are unconscionable and unbecoming of a witch or a warlock. It is therefore the opinion of the Queen of the House of Ghouls and her executive counsel that you must—in no uncertain terms and in all due haste—be expunged from said Home and your powers made forfeit in the process.”

His words digested pretty well until that last bit of information. Accompanied by a cry from a sympathetic centaur, the sisters’ faces lost their pride, and shock overcame them both.

“Our powers forfeit?” Leticia interrupted disbelievingly. “You cannot be serious, Zeldabub! This is too cruel a punishment!”

“How will we survive?” Latrease wanted to know.

Zeldabub rose to her towering height. “Your crimes were heinous and without feeling. Another would condemn you both to die along with your offspring,” she said. “I find the punishment chosen for you to be quite lenient, to say the least. In terms of your survival, you will note that I have left intact your abilities to conjure and to enchant, which, if utilized wisely, should bode well for your continued existence.” She went on, looking at Latrease, “The Warlock Sentry awaits to transport you both to locations where you will be able to raise your sons to manhood and ponder the ramifications of your crimes.”

“Zeldabub,” Leticia pleaded as the Warlock Sentry made their normally impressive entrance into the courtroom, “we’re nothing outside of the House of Ghouls … our family, all we know, is here. At least suspend the length of the sentence! A hundred years, a season of Halloweens, but not this! Please, sister!”

“Your sentence has been pronounced,” Zeldabub replied, “and it shall be not amended.” With that, she turned and strode out of the room, her billowing black-and-blue cape unfurling behind her as she went. A flash of light bathed the errant sisters with a horrific electrical sheen. When the light lifted, the Warlock Guards wasted no time in scooping up the sisters and their children and rocketing out of the room and into the dark night, headed toward places unknown.

“Oh, we are undone,” Latrease moaned as they were spirited away.

“Have a care, sister, there is yet a way to reverse this, I believe, but more to come,” Leticia hissed under her breath.

Portersville, early twentieth century; Halloween night, just before the Halloween March.

Rain spattered against the windows of the small home nestled on the outskirts of the sleepy farm and port city we have come to know as Portersville. The old witch had just inspected the crinkly sheet of paper inked by the wiry accountant. Flashes of what had just transpired with the wolf were still with her, as well as the hand-off that had taken place directly thereafter. It would be safe with him, she thought. He owed her that, at least. Though her eyes had grown dim with age, she seemed satisfied with what was now before her … the map that had been so painstakingly created.

“That’ll be all,” she croaked to the accountant.

“Yes, mum,” the accountant said and gathered up his outer coat.

“You’ll tell no one of this meeting,” the witch said firmly.

“You have my word,” the accountant replied.

“Good travels to you then,” the witch said, sinking back in her soft armchair. “Tell the troll that I am grateful for his help.”

As the accountant left the room, he surprised Dudley, the witch’s aide de camp, who was positioned right outside her door.

“I trust my lord had a fruitful visit with the lady,” Dudley said.

“As these sorts of visits go, Dudley,” the accountant said, as Dudley helped him on with his overcoat.

“Will you or my lady need me to run any errands for you, or transport any valuable paperwork?” Dudley asked, itching for more information.

“That would be her call, I’d wager,” the accountant replied. “Is there no end to this rain?” he asked as he stood at the door.

The accountant made a hurried exit from the small home and it was all Dudley could do to make it back to his mistress’s room, where he gently pushed open the door. “My lady, would you care for a spot of elderberry tea this evening?” he asked, bringing in a tray of hastily prepared tea. “The weather being as it is, one can’t take too many precautions.”

“Yes, the battle with the wolf took has taken its toll on me, I’m afraid, Dudley,” Elvira breathed. “I’ll be retiring early this evening, I suspect.”

“Yes, my lady,” Dudley replied. He set down the tray and cranked up the fire in the fireplace.

Elvira sipped tea, then made a face and looking at Dudley quizzically, asked, “What did you put in this tea, Dudley?”

The butler smiled darkly, rose to his feet and turned to face his mistress. “You needn’t worry, mum,” he said, reaching out and snatching the map, “the treasure will be well taken care of.”

Elvira felt her eyelids become like enormous weights. Her whole body screamed out for sleep. Her head was going limp. She had been drugged.

“And now, you just need to rest your eyes.” Still clutching the map, the butler moved in close to his mistress, who was fading fast. “Don’t worry though,” he grinned lasciviously, “you’ll sleep long enough to give me the head start I need.”

Elvira tried in vain to mount a protest, but she was undone. She slumped back in her chair, fast asleep. Dudley unfurled the parchment he had taken. His eyes greedily glittered as he wet his lips. He made his way out of the room and out of the house as quickly as he could, keeping the map tucked within his overcoat.

Above him, the cool yellow eyes of Elvira Hanson’s owl looked down on the fleeing butler. She pursued him to his small apartment on the other side of the city and nestled in a perch on an old tree branch outside a window that peered into his room.

“Did you get it?” Dudley’s shrill wife, Esmerelda, met him at the door.

“Yes, love,” he replied.

“I’ve cleared a space,” Esmerelda said, pointing to the table.

Dudley produced the map and unfurled it onto the table. Their children, who were supposed to be asleep, stood quietly and looked with interest at the kinetic way their parents were inspecting the large yellow sheet that Father had brought home.

“Can you imagine, my dear, a treasure such as that, kept hidden away for all time?” Dudley asked nervously.

“The fools,” Esmerelda agreed with a snap. “Right there,” she went on, pointing to a far corner of the map, “that must be where she put it!”

Just then, the windows to the room blew open with violent force. In flew a huge man, all in black and riding on a giant broom, the end of which held a fiery lantern. His eyes glittered like two diamonds from a dark mask that covered the top part of his face and his head was shrouded in a large pilgrim’s hat. He pointed a gloved finger at Dudley.

“You have stolen what is not yours to have,” the man spoke in a deep, hissing voice.

“Who … who are you?” Dudley stammered, he and his wife clutching each other and the map before the dark spirit.

The being did not answer but reached out and grasped the map. He began to pull it from Dudley and head back out the window on his broom.

“No, no,” Dudley cried, holding onto his end of the map, “I won’t let you take it!!”

But it was no use; the specter yanked the map with such force that both Dudley and his wife went toppling out of their three-story home. The specter took the map and flew away, leaving the children to gape incredulously out of the opened window, down into the muddy hay where their parents were recovering from the fall.

The specter gave the map to Elvira Hanson’s owl. “You know where to take this,” he grumbled, and the bird, on cue, took the map in its talons, flying high until coming to rest on what looked like a dead tree stump in a quiet and deserted area in the outskirts of Portersville. As if sensing the bird’s arrival, the tree stump sprouted a bush of branchy hair, unfurled as if standing up, and took the map into its hollow before returning to its prior state as if nothing had happened.

Portersville, current day

“Coach! Coooaachhhh!!” “COOOAACCCHHH!!”

Gribbett Keith had been running all night. Sweat soaked through all his clothes and he was breathing heavily but he had made it. Eluding the wolves was something that he hadn’t been sure he’d be able to do; they had made off with his hoodie but at least he had emerged unscathed … and now he had to find Coach. They and the other members of the gang had started the night together, had located the map—figures, it had been in the last house that they broke into—but they had gotten separated in the following chase. Once those wolves started peeling through the underbrush, it was every bandit for himself. The last he had seen of Coach he was contending with a really big werewolf with jet black hair and a huge silver jacket. And now here he was alone at the rendezvous site. He scaled the wall to the elementary school building, dropped lightly through the window, and crashed clumsily to the floor in the room where he was supposed to meet the schoolteacher.

It had already been a long day for Gribbett Keith. His confrontation with the private investigator earlier that day had left his mind with a lot of jumbled thoughts. He glanced down at the have-you-seen-this-person poster the investigator had given him, with a familiar face pasted smack dab in the center. Maybe someone did actually care about the strange little guy after all.

“It’s me, Mr. Scroggins,” he whispered into the darkened room. It was not unusual for his boss to wait in the dark. It brought him peace, he would say. “I made it!”

There was a stirring in the room as a chair was pushed and someone rose to stand. “Very good,” a low voice rolled, “all you need do now is hand it over.”

Gribbett paused. Something was wrong; this wasn’t Scroggins. The voice was too deep. Then he saw the narrow yellow slit-like eyes flash in the moonlight that bathed the room. A huge figure took a step toward the young teenager.

Gribbett’s mouth fell open as he stumbled backwards in fear. “No,” he stammered, “I … I … escaped you!” he gasped.

“There is no escape from the pack,” the wolf growled, “or from me! Now, if you value your life, you will hand over the map!”

“Wh … what map?” Gribbett stuttered, backing into a desk.

“Don’t trifle with me, boy!” the wolf roared. He was suddenly joined by several equally large, equally terrifying wolves.

All of this was indeed harrowing—and for the young man who had pursued Gribbett all night and who now was watching this scene unfold before his eyes, confusing as well. But it was clear that four behemoths hidden in shadow against one teenaged boy was not fair. Pulling out his weapon, the young man fired a distractive shot into the night, hoping that the boy would be wise enough to take advantage of it.

Gribbett did. His senses were already on high alert, and while he didn’t know where that shot came from, he made an immediate dash for the door and sped through it. The wolves would no doubt be hot on his trail, so he had to move fast. He ducked into a small room, fell to the floor and hid behind a counter. He heard the wolves thrash by him loudly and put the silver ram’s horn necklace that he kept in his pocket around his neck. A opalescent barrier sprang up around him. Wow, he thought, I guess Josiah was right. Silver would ward away those wolves after all. They dashed by without batting an eye.

Gribbett produced a small parcel from under his shirt, and rising to his feet quickly, deposited it into a hamper in the corner. A Lost and Found sign hung over the hamper. He covered the parcel with random shoes, socks, hats, coats and scarfs, then scampered out the way that he had come. Outside the school, he dived into a surrounding field of bushes and caught his breath, watching several figures scurry about. There was a man in a hoodie whom he had never seen before—or had he?—who jumped into a car and sped away, just avoiding the onslaught of three gigantic wolves heading pell mell after him. Good, Gribbett thought, better him, whoever he is, than me. Later on, Gribbett was able to reach his desired contact.

“Keith!” came the voice on the other end, “where have you been?”

“I’ve been where I’ve been,” the teen shot back.“A better question is where were you?”

“What are you talking about?” asked the voice on the other end.

“Your message said you would meet me at the middle school to pick up the map,” Gribbett said.

“I never left you such a message!”

“Well, I don’t know any other Scroggins who’s been substituting at the Portersville Elementary School but in reality is out looking for a long-lost buried treasure map!” Gribbett spat.

“Shut your big mouth, kid,” the voice ordered.

“All I know is that I never signed on for this—being chased by wolves and almost served up for dinner!” Gribbett Keith yelled into the phone.

“You’re more than welcome to head back to where I found you, lost, alone and with no more than lint to pull out of your pockets,” the voice shot right back, “but you won’t do that because you’re too greedy. What concerns me is that if I didn’t send you that message, then who did?”

“Don’t know,” Gribbett said, “and the cops are coming!”

“Where’s the map?” the voice asked.

“It’s hidden,” Gribbett replied.

The other voice grunted in disapproval. “Well, get out of there, we’ll meet up tomorrow and figure this out!”

Josiah Scroggins put away his phone and sheathed his small hand held cross bow. His aim had been good but not perfect, just a minute ago when he had taken down that nosy kestrel who had been following him up until now. And while he hadn’t killed the bird, he had wounded it enough to send a message to its mistress that he, Josiah Scroggins, was not someone to be trifled with and that he was on to her machinations. Scroggins would next make his way to the small outdoor café where he was seated alone for the time being. A simmering cup of hot cocoa sat before him.. A shadow fell over his small table.

“Keeping late hours, aren’t we Mr. Scroggins?” the voice of one Beverly McClafferty asked. “Haven’t you a class of students you need to be ready for in the morning?”

“I could say the same for you, Mrs. McClafferty,” Scroggins said, rising to his nearly seven-foot height. He glared down at the barely five-foot-tall woman.

“I’m a mother and a shop owner, my job is rarely over,” McClafferty, unruffled by the towering teacher, said with a smile.

“Yes, and how are your dear boys?” Scroggins asked. “Keeping up with their attendance, I hope.”

“They do well enough in that regard,” McClafferty said. “I could ask you about your own boys, I suppose, were that kind of stuff to be known.”

“You all are not going to win, Mrs. McClafferty,” Scroggins said smugly. “We’re closer than you know, and once that treasure is returned to us, my first order of business will be to order a moratorium on all wolves.”

“We’ll see, my dear Mr. Scroggins,” McClafferty replied with a smile. “My family and I have waited too long for this Halloween’s arrival to see defeat at the hand of a disingenuous, would-be bandit masquerading as an elementary school teacher, and his band of ne’er do wells!”

“Your family’s time on this planet is rapidly drawing to an end,” Scroggins retorted, “and I for one am counting the moments until that occasion with the greatest of anticipation.”

“Time will be the ultimate judge then, I suppose, betwixt the two of of us,” Mrs. McClafferty sniffed. “Until then, Mr. Scroggins.”

“Ma’am.” The tall schoolteacher stood aside to let her pass. He smiled grimly to himself. He could only hope to see what her face would look like once she found out what had happened to her prize kestrel, no doubt making its way back to her home right now.

No one would give the encounter the slightest bit of interest, except for the dark eyes looking on from the shadows … dark eyes that understood there was more than routine or chance to the meeting that had just unfolded. The dark specter who had so long ago seen to the safekeeping of Elvira Hanson’s map emerged from the shadows and propelled himself upwards on his gigantic broomstick. His voluminous body was instantly swallowed up by the dark and gathering clouds that had begun to form over the small town of Portersville.