​

Chapter 13

Gwen stared up, horrified.

Deveren was here. Somehow he had gotten past the wall, and stood there. No wounds, no limping. He was dressed in a black doublet, a bearskin cloak draped over one shoulder. Perhaps to keep himself looking regal, in case any nobility were watching.

“I wish to speak to Duke Everwynn,” he said.

Drake snorted. “And just who the heck are you?”

Deveren’s eyes flashed. He reached for the boy, before thinking better of it and simply smoothed his cloak with the hand. “The Count Deveren wishes an audience.”

He had done it. Deveren had been recognized by the rest of the nobility as the old count’s heir. Gwen knew it had only been a matter of time, but now? So soon?

Drake scratched himself, and shrugged. “He’s kind of busy,” Drake said. “Can you come by next week?”

“Insolent boy!” one of the guards said. “Do you know who this man is?”

“Count Deveren, duh,” Drake said. “He just told us. Or were you not listening?”

Deveren stamped his foot. “Boy!”

“Yup?”

“Where is your lord?”

“I dunno.” Drake turned around. “He’s not here at the moment, I guess.”

Deveren walked towards Gwen. “Fine, then. Inform him when you next see him that I have taken this little criminal and…”

The count stopped. He paused, and pushed against a piece of air. It held firm.

“That’s not going to happen.” Drake looked up at the count. His eyes were steady, cold. No humor was in his voice.

Deveren glared. “Step aside, boy,” he warned. “This is none of your concern.”

“It is,” Doramont said. He raised himself up, and shook his head, sighing. “Unfortunately.”

“See, Gwen here is one of Duke Everwynn’s charges,” Drake said. “And even though she’s a brat, and short, and really could use a haircut…”

“Rambling,” Doramont said softly.

“Right. Despite all of her many, many shortcomings, she’s still one of us.” Drake clapped his hands together. “And no stinking noble is going to come into our home and take one of our own.”

“Agreed,” Doramont said.

Deveren stepped back, and whistled. The guards nodded, and raised their swords.

Behind them, the forest rumbled, a low warning. All three men turned, eyes wide. Four poplar trees slid out of the tree line, swaying their way towards Doramont and everyone else.

“If anyone hurts me, or my friends,” Doramont said. “I can promise that the trees have a much shorter temper than I do.”

“Black magic,” one of the guards breathed.

“If you like,” Doramont said. “You could call it that.”

His eyes steeled. “Now. If you would like to return to your lands, and not be hassled by the scenery, I suggest a rather hasty retreat.”

Deveren cursed. “This isn’t over, boys,” he hissed. “I will have her. If I have to go to the High Court, I will have her head on a spike.”

“Great imagery,” Drake said. “Think about better ones as you’re running away.”

The count did not run. He wrapped his cloak about him, gestured twice to his guards, and after one last promising glare directed at Gwen, did he walk back into the trees.

“Hang onto this house whilst you can, boys!” Deveren called out. “I expect it will soon change into far better, capable hands.”

Doramont waited until Deveren and his men were fully gone, before collapsing to the ground. Drake ran to his side, and picked him up.

“You ok, string bean?” he asked.

Doramont nodded, and wiped the sweat from his brow. “You are a disgrace to magic everywhere.”

Drake clapped him on the back. “That’s what I like to hear. Positivity!”

He cackled, and nodded to Gwen. “Team meeting, kitchens. Right now. I’ll get a hold of everyone.”

The boy lifted himself up off the ground. Snapped his fingers, and flipped Gwen head over heels to fall flat on her face.

“Welcome to the club, mouse!” Drake said. He let out a whoop of laughter, before flying off into the distance.

Gwen stood up, and dusted herself off. “What was that all about?” Gwen asked.

Doramont walked up to her. Gwen put up her hands, defensive. She could take him, she knew it. She had no clue how she did magic, but even without it, she knew he was reeling. If need be, it probably wouldn’t be that hard.

But the boy held up his hands. “Peace. Call a truce?”

“Why?” Gwen asked.

He slumped his shoulders. “Because we need you with us at the meeting.”

Gwen kept her hands raised.

“Fine, be that way.” Doramont walked towards the kitchens. “We are just going to be deciding your fate alongside that of our home. I thought that might pique your interest.”

​

When Gwen and Doramont arrived, the kitchens were already abuzz. The maids and chefs were all there. They moved around, trying to busy themselves. Someone placed a cup of cocoa in each of their hands, before fluttering away.

Doramont took the offered cup. Gwen did not.

“You’re going to offend the staff,” Doramont said. “Take it.”

Gwen sighed, and did as she was told. The cocoa was quite good.

Doramont looked at the head chef. “Are they here?”

She nodded, and pointed. Drake, Indearie, and Rosamund were all seated, looking straight ahead.

“What about Felton?” Doramont asked.

“He won’t come out,” Drake said. “He refused.”

Doramont’s eyes bulged. “He what?”

“Said to figure this out on our own.”

“Figure what out?” Indearie asked. “What’s going on?”

Drake groaned. “Not much. Just that the new count Deveren has fingered Gwen as the murderer of his father. Demands her head, and that we start getting some real recompense up in here.”

“Murder?” Indearie looked at Gwen. “No. that’s not possible.”

Rosamund snorted. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Relax!” Drake said. “It’s not Gwen.”

“And how do you know, Drake?”

“Because Gwen was here for all but what, two hours?” Drake said. “And without any magic to speak of. I don’t exactly see her racing across three estates, assassinating a man in the middle of a fortress, and making it out without so much as a scratch.”

Drake winked at her. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, she’s tough as nails, and twice as stubborn. I just don’t see all of that happening.”

“Still, Deveren is accusing her,” Doramont said. “And it’s our word against his.”

Gwen kicked at the table. A convicted felon against a new count. Wonder who people would believe.

“Turn her in and all the problems go away,” Rosamund said. “No reason to get involved ourselves.”

“Now hold on!” Indearie stood up. “Nobody is turning Gwen in!”

“Indearie…”

“NO! No, I have had it up to here with all of you picking on her!” Indearie shouted. “Gwen has been desperately trying to break through so much pain that, that you don’t even know! And she has received nothing but bad jokes, rumors, and…” Indearie leaned in closer, looking at Gwen.

Her eyes blazed. “WHO HIT HER?!?”

Lightning flared out of the young woman. Everyone dove for cover.

“Somebody better answer me right now!” Indearie shouted.

Gwen stood up, and held up her hands. “Indearie, I’m ok.”

“If it was Deveren, and they were defending you, that’s one thing,” Indearie said. She glared at the boys. “But from the looks on their faces, that doesn’t seem likely.”

Drake tried to smile, but couldn’t. Doramont looked away.

“Why? Why would you hurt her?” Indeariesaid.

“Answer me!”

“Because I hurt Rosamund!” Gwen shouted.

The room looked at her. Small, insignificant her.

“I hurt Rosamund,” Gwen said. “I went to her room angry, and confused. And she said something, I attacked her, and she used magic, and I bit her.”

Gwen looked at Rosamund, and reddened. “And…I think I have to say I’m sorry.”

Rosamund huffed, and looked away.

“But…some count just said he wants my head on a spike. Literally, on a spike. And I don’t want my head on a spike, it sounds itchy, and uncomfortable, and my body wouldn’t like losing that much weight.”

She smiled, weak and unassured. “I could really use some help right now, if you’re willing.”

Drake, Doramont, and Rosamund looked at her, confused.

“What?”

“Please,” Gwen said. Tears welled up in her eyes. “I’m not afraid to beg.”

“Of course we’re going to help you, idiot!” Drake said.

Gwen blinked. “What?”

“Nobody touches an Everwynn,” Doramont said.

“Except for us,” Rosamund said.

Drake grinned. “You’re bunked with us, you’re stuck with us. No ifs, ands, or whys, guys.”

They meant it. Well and truly meant to help her. Gwen couldn’t believe her ears. But they stood there, just looking at her. Not happy, not trying to show that kindness and compassion had been given to her freely. It was a sort of grudging, ubiquitous help. Like they didn’t have a choice in it.

Like they were family.

Rosamund rolled her eyes. “So we have someone accused of murder under our roof, and the count is out for blood?”

“Worse than that,” Drake said. “He said he wants the house.”

Rosamund started. “What?”

“The house?” Indearie asked. “Why would he want the house?”

“There’s only one reason that Deveren would want the house,” Drake said.

All three looked at Gwen and Indearie. Even the staff turned towards them. The two girls shivered, and turned in towards each other.

“We have to tell them,” Doramont said.

“Without Everwynn’s approval?” Rosamund hissed. “Are you crazy?”

“They were going to be told anyways.”

“In months! Years even! Not right now, not so soon.”

“Well, it’s kind of an odd situation,” Drake said. “But circumstances…”

“Drake, this is the secret,” Rosamund said. “Forget protecting them, that’s all well and good. We’ll fight for them no sweat. But the house? The tower? That’s completely different.”

She pointed at both Gwen and Indearie. “You’re asking us to trust them with our lives. With his life.”

“What’s going on?” Indearie asked.

Doramont sighed. “There’s a bit of a legend, connected to this house. Something that has to be seen to be believed.”

“Something that the rest of Callgar combined would give up everything to possess,” Rosamund muttered. “If they knew.”

She glared at Gwen. “Which is why before anyone is told, we make sure they’re trustworthy.”

Gwen started to argue, and stopped. For a second, she realized what they were talking about. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust her.

It’s that they didn’t trust anybody.

“We’ll tell them.”

The children looked up. One of the maids stepped forward. Duster in hand, eyes glowing bright blue. “We’ll take them to the Tower.”

“Millie,” Drake said. “You shouldn’t have to…”

“It’s our home,” Millie said. “More than anyone else’s.”

She nodded to Gwen and Indearie. “You two will come with us now.”

The staff turned as one, and started walking away.

Gwen glanced back towards the other children. Trying to find some sort of guidance, or reassurance that something terrible wouldn’t happen.

She just got a wave, and a nod.

Indearie gripped her hand, and they walked out towards the tower.

“This is heavy,” Indearie said.

“Yup.”

They walked a moment in silence.

“You bit her?” Indearie asked.

“What?”

“You bit Rosamund?”

“She was lighting me on fire,” Gwen said.

“Oh, okay.” Indearie smiled, and giggled.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just…you bit her.”

“Hey!” Gwen exclaimed. “It’s not like I had a choice.”

“Yeah, right!”

“What?”

“You always bite!”

“Do not!”

“Oh, come on. Back in Beggar’s Reprieve, how did you get a good deal on the space?”

Gwen reddened. “You saw that?”

“Everyone saw that. Donny Three-Piece tried to get you to give him something extra, and you almost bit his ear off.”

“Damn straight,” Gwen said. “I wasn’t going to do…any of that.”

“Good.” Indearie kept walking, and giggled again. “Did she taste any better?”

“She scorched the roof off of my mouth,” Gwen muttered. “I couldn’t taste anything for days.”

“So yes?”

“Oh, gods, yes.”

They walked outside, and turned right. But instead of walking towards the tower, they walked into the forest.

“Where are we going?” Gwen asked. No one responded.

Indearie frowned, and raised a hand. “Excuse me?” she asked. “What’s going on?”

The staff didn’t respond. They moved silently across the grounds. Waiters, maids, plumbers, butlers, their footsteps didn’t leave a trace on the forest floor.

Gwen waved at the staff. “Hey! People! The tower is the other way!”

No response. They tried shouting together, to no response. And then Indearie laid a calm and reassuring hand on Millie’s arm. The hand passed through the arm, and the body, to come out into the open air without so much as a glancing blow.

Gwen and Indearie stared at the hand. “What is going on?” Gwen asked.

“I asked that,” Indearie said. “Your turn for answers.”

“The staff isn’t really there?” Gwen offered.

“Really helpful.”

“No,” Gwen asked. She pointed. “Are they really there?”

As the staff walked through the trees, they started to lose cohesion. Suits and skirts faded into mist. The new ghostly forms trailed into and out of bark. A portly washerman’s head floated through a branch without pause.

Gwen and Indearie stopped. The staff moved on. They had lost their clothes, their forms. It was a mass of lights, cerulean blue. They moved in and out of the trees, up the trunks into the leaves and out.

The two girls huddled together, frightened. Gwen cursed Felton and Everwynn. This was who they had trusted them with their safety? This was what qualified as a cook? A formless light? What was going on?

Dozens of lights, hundreds of them. They filled the forest, and in a second, were all still. Gwen and Indearie stood in the midst of them all. One of the auras moved forward. The two girls knew that it was Millie.

“Can we trust you?” The light asked.

“With what?” Gwen asked. “What is going on?”

“Always with questions. Always with anger.” The light dimmed, fading into a violet hue. “You don’t know what it is we’re asking for you to hold onto.

“What you are about to see, can never be repeated outside of those we trust,” Millie said. “Telling the truth would mean chaos, destruction, and for us here. If we could have death instead of this fate, any here would take it. But instead, we have to trust you.”

“Well, you’re not…” Indearie elbowed Gwen silent before she could finish.

Indearie looked up at the globes, and nodded. Her face calm, and serene. Reassuring, like Gwen never could.

“We’re here to help. I don’t know how, but you’ve always been nice to me, Millie. You too, Frieda. And Reginald, and Holkum, and Barksten. You know me. You can trust me.”

“You’re not the problem,” one of the orbs muttered.

The Millie orb spun around. “But we know her. We can see her, when she doesn’t see herself. We know the truth.”

“We suspect.”

“We know,” Millie urged. “And that’s why she needs to.”

The rest of the group was silent, resigned.

“Go to the Tower,” Millie said. “And this time, go in.”

“Are we seeing Everwynn?” Gwen asked.

“You may,” Millie said. “But I promise that he will not want to see you. Not then.”

Indearie’s eyes widened. “Are we about to do something wrong?”

“No. He is.”

​

Dead by the Book

​

I didn't ask for a destiny.

Especially one that says that I'm supposed to destroy every god in existence.

It made the name William Creed a curse. Made me turn tail and run from the only home I knew. Left my friend, my favorite ghost, and hoped that the gods would just forget about me.

But now I'm back. Chasing the one good paycheck I've seen in years. Chasing some kid who's in way over his head, searching for a book that could break reality.

I'll have to take on dragons, the undead, a whole cosmos of deities, and my own mother.

Welcome to God Street. Where miracles become realities.

​

​

$5.00 Buy a writer coffee! Like what you're seeing? Get writer Jack Holder a pick-me-up so he can keep going! Send a tip

​