Entanglements (25 page)

Just then, Zen charged at Billy. The gun went off and Zen grunted but continued forward and brought Billy down in a tackle. Zen managed to wrestle the gun from Billy and trained the weapon on the jerk with one hand as he held a bleeding wound on his side with the other.

As Zen tackled Billy, Rom took advantage and rushed at Quinn. Rom grasped his shoulder and brought Quinn around. Rom struck Quinn with a punch to the nose. I grabbed the edges of the chain and used it to drag the ghoul stumbling toward the vortex.

“Get the ghoul, Quinn,” Billy shouted.

“Shut up.” Zen jabbed Billy with the gun. “I’d love to have an excuse to shoot you.”

Trying to be careful not to get too close to the vortex, I circled to the back of the ghoul and pushed him forward. He teetered for a few seconds on the edge of the rotating whirlpool center and the expanding edges of the vortex began to pull him in. The ghoul’s right leg disappeared to the ankle. I scanned the surface of the vortex for Juliette’s corresponding right foot. Nothing. The ghoul quickly sank and his body, now trapped to the waist, began to circle moving ever closer to the center of the vortex.

Still no sign of Juliette. My stepsister’s lower half should be visible. Why wasn’t she coming through the portal?

The ghoul’s upper half seeped away. As the top of his head vanished through the portal, wrapped with the chain and the silver four-leaf clover charm attached to it, I knew with certainty Juliette wasn’t coming through. Somehow the entanglement between my stepsister and the prince’s ghoul had been broken.

Now what were we going to do? With the ghoul gone, we had nothing to trade for Juliette.

Chapter Sixteen

“Nooooo,” Billy shouted. He threw Zen off and leaped to his feet before running head long toward the vortex. “Juliette. Juliette. Where are you?”

“Stop,” I cried.

He was getting too close.

The vortex expanded and began to nip at my feet, forcing me to backpedal away. Unfortunately, this took me further not only from the whirlpool but also from Billy. There was no way for me to block him without getting caught in the whirlpool myself.

Rom tossed Quinn to the side and ran at Billy.

“No,” I yelled to Rom. “It’s too late.”

Billy’s running front foot hit the whirlpool. When it did, he sunk like a stone hitting a pond and was gone. Immediately, an ethereal feminine figure catapulted from the vortex in a running stride. I only had time to note the long whitish blonde hair and the flash of yellow eyes before she dashed away.

Rom made a grab for her but the figure evaded Rom’s reach. Zen, still lying wounded, rolled to try to block her but she flew over him like a track runner over a hurdle and then disappeared down the tunnel.

White hair. Yellow eyes. Just like the demon-angel my father talked about.

* * * * *

Zen leaned across his kitchen table as Rom tended to his wound. The bullet had merely nicked Zen’s side. Thank goodness for Zen’s medical supplies. We wouldn’t want this gunshot reported.

I called home. Mom answered on the first ring. She questioned the noise she heard in the background

“Yeah, Mom,” I said into my cell phone. “I’m not alone. I’m with Rom. We’re—um—studying.”

Rom glanced over his shoulder and shot me a quirky smile.

“Honey, keep to the studying and no more umming.”

Obviously, she thought we were making out. If only that were true. I’d love to be umming with Rom rather than whatever it was we were facing.

“Remember our talk about the birds and the bees,” Mom continued. “You’re too young a bird to have to worry about the bee’s stinger.”

“Ugh, Mom. Gross,” I moaned. “I’m not doing any of that.”

“Good,” she said. “How did the hearing go? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine and the hearing was fine." After a moment's hesitation, I continued, “Well, there wasn’t a hearing because it got postponed.”

“Was your dad there? Did you see him?”

“Let’s not talk about that right now, Mom. I’ll be home by curfew.”
Or not
, I thought as I ended the call.

Rom applied tape to the edges of the gauze and stepped away from Zen.

“Now let’s see your arm.” Zen stood.

Rom shook his head. “There is no usefulness to this.”

"Really," I pleaded. "We need to see it."

After another moment of hesitation, Rom offered his arm to me.

The angry lines were now red and purple and had expanded outside the confines of the Band-Aid. With trembling fingers, I peeled back the covering and saw the wound still had not closed over. A greenish puss mixed with the blood oozed from the site of the bite.

“Omigod, Rom.” The words rushed out of me before I could stop them.

“We’ll pour some more of this heavy duty antiseptic wound cleaner in there and apply a bigger bandage.” Zen turned away but not before I saw the expression of shock and fear that crossed his face.

“Yeah,” I said, trying for a calm tone. “Take more antibiotics too.”

“These efforts are no use, I fear.” Rom’s face had gone white. Even his lips lacked color.

“You don’t know that.” I took his hand. “That book was written before modern medicine. So how do we know antibiotics won’t work?”

Wrapping my arms around him I squeezed Rom as tight as I could until his arms came up around me in an answering hug.

“Let us take you to the hospital,” I suggested.

“No.” Rom set me away from him. “I know inside me no good would come from this and we have not time. In less than thirty-four hours the portal becomes impermeable.”

“What do we do now?” Crossing to the cabinets, I extracted a glass, turned on the cold tap, and filled the glass with water.

Behind me, I heard Rom gasp as Zen applied the antiseptic. Somehow I couldn’t watch.

The two of them were silent. Finally, Zen answered. “I think we should give up.”

Petra, Chase and Senji arrived with the average ruckus that always seemed to accompany them. Without knocking the three tromped in.

“What did we miss?” Senji pushed the glasses up his nose and shifted his gaze from Rom, to Zen, to me, and back again with eager expectation.

* * * * *

“Where’s Juliette?” I asked Prince Leopold when the fog cleared in the psychomanteum’s mirror.

“Ah, dear Kizzy.” The prince moved closer so that we were face-to-face. If the glass of the mirror—and a universe—hadn’t separated us, I could have reached out and touched his devilishly handsome face. “Do you wish to continue our chess game?”

“No,” I replied. “I wish to see my stepsister.”

“Do you wish to see the visitor newly arrived at the royal court?”

Billy. “Not really. Just Juliette.”

“Ah. Shame.” The prince strolled to one of the sofas. He lowered himself to a sitting position to stretch his legs out in front of him. The prince was dressed for riding and his leather boots, with gold spurs, thudded against the Aubusson rug. “Juliette is not available at present.”

“Is she still at court?”

“Yes, of course.” He gave a wave of the hand dismissing my question and then a gleam appeared in his eye. “Have you met Namia yet?”

“Who?”

“My subject who visits your world in the place of Mr. Broadrick,” the prince said with a chuckle. “Although I believe you have received the better of that exchange. This Billy person is the most atrocious horse’s arse.”

“Tool is the current slang describing Billy,” I said. “Or douchebag"

“Douchebag. I like that,” the prince said with a satisfied nod. “Oh Kizzy. I do so enjoy our conversations.”

“So Namia is a ghoul like Stephan?”

“Yes,” the prince admitted. “However, I am hoping she will have more success than the hapless Stephan.”

“Back to Juliette,” I interrupted. “When can I see her?”

“You know the answer to that my lovely Kizzy.” The prince rose and strode toward the mirror once more. “You must come here in person.” He smiled. “I promise you the most cordial of welcomes.” The prince licked his lips. “And do bring your friend Rom. He needs to come here.”

“What do you mean?” I feared I knew the answer.

“Do not be coy.” The prince turned to a nearby table and an enormous arrangement of flowers. After extracting one long stem from the vase, the prince examined it from the silvery leaves at its base to the mauve flowers clustered along its stalk. He twirled the stem between his fingers. “Rom was bitten and probably about now is beginning to feel the effects. Soon it may be too late for the Downy Woundwort to work its magic.”

Staring with fascination, I recognized the flower he held. I thought about his words and my mind raced with possibilities.

“Come to me Kizzy and I will cure him.”

The fog entered the mirror, obscuring the prince from my view as his last word echoed into silence. Unconsciously, I had stepped back out of the range of the mirror.

I opened the door and stumbled into the corridor and down the stairs before scrambling around the corner into the dining room. Chase and Senji were hunched in chairs in front of the computer. Petra stood over their shoulders reading a text. Rom sat at the table with his head resting on its top.

“Rom,” I yelled. “Zen, Petra, everybody! I have a great idea.”

Zen came from the kitchen holding a wooden spoon and an apron. “What?”

“I’m going to Dorcha.”

“I thought you said you had a great idea.” Petra frowned. “That isn’t even a good one.”

“Accord,” Rom said, raising his head and showing me weary eyes. “As a Clavis you must stay far from Dorcha.”

“Think about it.” I slid into a chair opposite him. “Juliette is there. Why not go there and get her back. And now there's more reason to go there.”

“What reason?” Zen asked.

“I’ve seen Downy Woundwort in the psychomanteum. Rom’s cure is there.”

Every eye glanced at the large white bandage covering a third of Rom’s forearm.

“Not acceptable,” Rom shook his head. “The dangers are overwhelming.”

“Even if you entered Dorcha, how could you be sure you’d find Juliette? You said yourself you’ve not seen her in the palace lately,” Zen pointed out. “The prince obviously did something to stop her from coming through the portal when his ghoul was returned.”

“I don’t know. But at this point this is the only possible way left for setting things right. I’m going.”

“Well, there may be one way left that we haven’t explored." Zen gazed at the ceiling while scratching his head with the end of the spoon. “Time travel.”

* * * * *

“Hey, is time travel really possible?” Chase asked as he took a piece of bread from the bag in the middle of the table.