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Authors: Stephanie S. Sanders

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BOOK: Good Curses Evil
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“Watch it, Crooks!” Chad said, kicking one of them in the shin. The kid bit back tears. I stared at Chad in wonder.

“I don't think I've ever seen you be mean to anyone … ever,” I said. Being cruel kind of came with villain territory. Some of us were meaner than others. But Chad? I didn't think he had it in him.

He just shrugged and dashed down the hall into our room. I lingered behind just for a minute, made sure nobody was watching, then handed the kids a couple of Chad's gingerbread men I had stashed in my cloak pocket.

“They bleed when you bite their heads,” I said, smiling.

“Cool!” the Crooks said.

The littler one wiped his sleeve across his wet cheeks and smiled at me. Hey, I couldn't have them crying all over the place. It might make the halls more slippery than the slug slime. I mean, I wasn't just being nice. Villains are
not
nice to children. We even had to watch a short film about it last year titled,
Silly Villain! Kids Are for Snacks!

Finally, I reached my dorm and shut the door. Chad was practically bouncing on the top of his bunk bed in anticipation.

“Open it, Rune!” he said.

“Okay, okay.” I reached into my cloak and pulled out the black envelope. On it, written in silver ink, were two words: Rune Drexler.

I tore open the envelope and pulled out the parchment. I read as I unfolded it:

Plot for Rune Drexler, Rogue:

You are to complete the following tasks within
one week
, that is seven days, after the night of the harvest moon. Should you fail in even
one
of these tasks, you will be immediately exiled from Master Dreadthorn's School for Wayward Villains. If you succeed, you will achieve the rank of Fiend.

I was so excited; I could hardly make my fingers unfold the rest of the parchment. What would it be? Stealing jewels? Causing an earthquake? My eyes skimmed down the page.

“What!” I shouted.

“What is it, Rune?” Chad asked.

“I don't believe this. It's not possible.”

“What?” Chad was practically salivating.

I read aloud, “ ‘Number one, kidnap a princess. Number two, steal a baby. Number three, find a henchman and commit him to your service …' ”

“That's not so bad,” Chad said, although he didn't sound too sure.

“I've saved the best for last,” I said, growing a little hysterical. “ ‘Number four, overthrow a kingdom and place a ruler of your choice on the throne.' ”

“Well … uh … that's …”

“Impossible!” I said. “I'm supposed to do all that in
seven days
! I can't do it.” My toes felt numb. My eye began to twitch. Slowly, I forced myself to calm down. To think.

“Maybe I can combine some of this. You know? Maybe I can … uh … steal a baby princess and make her my henchman?”

“Uh … I guess that could work.” Chad didn't look convinced.

“I'm dead.” My eye twitched as I spoke.

Chad just stared at me with pity.

At the bottom of the note a few more words were written. I didn't dare share them with Chad, knowing the consequences if I did. Still, I clung to that little sentence like a lifeline in a turbulent sea:

You may choose two Conspirators to Plot with you.

 

CHAPTER THREE

Another Plot

It's funny how a lecture on the history of villainy can make the time go so slowly. Yet, imminent death just speeds the old clock right up.

The night of the harvest moon arrived, and I was a mess. I still had no idea how to accomplish my Plot. I pulled on my boots only to realize they were on the wrong feet. I gave up and just stared blankly at my hands. From across the room, I dimly noticed Chad watching me with concern. He had finally stopped trying to cheer me up with his latest invention: cookies that bite back.

When the Great Clock chimed the hour, I jumped and turned my head nervously from side to side before slumping over and staring at my hands once more.

“Uh, Rune,” Chad said. “We have to assemble with everyone outside. For the field trip. Remember?”

“Field trip?” I asked, unsure where I was.

“To Morgana's? They're drawing for the Plot tonight, and—”

“Plot?
Plot
!” I shouted.

At the sound of the
P
-word my eye twitched like crazy. I pressed both hands on it, coming back to my senses a little. I could see Chad had backed up to a wall and was eyeing the doorway nervously.

“Sorry,” I said. “Let's go.”

I followed Chad into the hallway, where students were already elbowing and jostling each other on their way to the school entrance. Everyone spilled out of the narrow hallway and into the darkness of the night.

The entire school was located under the ruins of an old castle. It consisted of a series of underground tunnels, dungeons, and caves. The land—a blackened, nearly sunless waste—had been donated to the school by Jezebel's dad, Dracula. She was always such a brat about how her dad had paid for this and that and he was oh-so-important.

In the moonlight, I could see Master Dreadthorn and a handful of other teachers standing at the front of the mob. Master Stiltskin caught my eye and smiled his sunken, toothless old-man grin, waving one bony hand at me, but I hardly took notice. Instead, I stood stoically as a rumbling sound grew louder and louder, and a caravan of Gypsy wagons materialized from the darkness. The colorful wagons, adorned with brightly dyed cloth and fluttering flags, came to a crunching halt at the school entrance.

Master Dreadthorn eyed the vibrant wagons with thinly veiled revulsion.

“I thought I told you to dial it down, Ursus,” the Dread Master said to the driver. “We have an image to maintain, you know.”

“I did dial it down,” the burly driver said in a low, rumbling voice.

Master D. and the driver glared at each other, and for a moment I thought the field trip might end then and there. But the Dread Master, his eyes still on the monstrous form of Ursus, lifted a hand, motioning for everyone to load up.

I was still mostly out of it as the impossibility of my Plot wormed its way once more into my thoughts. I got into a wagon with Chad, Jezebel, Wolf, and a few other kids I didn't really know. The other students piled into the rest of the wagons. After a few skirmishes (and one serious vampire bite) the caravan rumbled forward, and we were on our way.

Some of the kids in our wagon talked about their excitement over the Plot. This sent me into another panic, and my hand flew up to my eye to still the spasms. Chad edged away from me.

“What's wrong with him?” Wolf Junior asked.

“He got his Plot,” Chad said. “It's not good.”

“Really?” Jezebel asked. “Tell us about it!”

Chad took one look at me and my twitching eye and said, “Maybe later.”

It took about an hour for us to arrive at a port where Cook's pirate ship—
The Horrid Knave
—was docked, waiting to carry us down the coast to Mistress Morgana's snobby school. I'd spent the entire trip in silence, contemplating my terrible Plot.

“Uh, Rune?” It was Jezebel.

“Uh-huh?” I asked. My eye had never stopped twitching.

“We have to get on the ship, Rune,” she said. I didn't respond.

“Is it really
that
bad?” Wolf asked Chad.

“Yeah,” he said, throwing one of my arms across his shoulders, “it is.”

Vaguely, I registered the fact that my friends were hauling me out of the wagon and up a wooden plank onto
The Horrid Knave
. A motley crew of Cook's scalawags manned the sails. I could hear a slow, steady chant rising from below deck that would allow the rowers to keep the ship moving steadily down the coast. Then there was rocking. Then there was puking. (Did I mention I get a little seasick?) Then I was walking back down a plank and onto dry land again.

I didn't really come to my senses until we arrived at Mistress Morgana's. I'd been there before, but my memory never did the place justice. It was a towering medieval castle complete with gargoyles and a moat—the place was a villain's dream! Even as we approached, a drawbridge was being lowered.

I wondered how Morgana got away with having so many windows until we crossed the bridge and I realized they were all heavily curtained with black velvet. We mounted the expansive stone steps, and the entire student body sprawled on the landing. In the distance, I could hear the eerie, mournful howling of the werewolf students as they transformed beneath the full moon. Then Master Dreadthorn swept past with a swirling of his dark cloak.

One of the Crooks, a troll, was whining about being hungry. As Master Dreadthorn passed he “accidentally” knocked the Crook off the landing and into the moat. After grappling with the moat monster—which was a kind of giant squid—the poor kid hauled himself up the shore, dripping with foul mucky water and shooting a scathing look at Master D.

The Dread Master didn't even break stride as he marched purposefully up to the double oak doors. He'd just raised his hand to the enormous iron knocker when the door opened and a woman stepped out to greet us.

I'd seen her before on our last visit, but I'd forgotten how gorgeous Morgana was. Her lips were bloodred, her hair was long and blond, and she wore this green sparkly dress that matched the shade of her catlike eyes.

“Welcome, my dear Veldin!” she said in a British accent, opening her arms to invite us all in.

“I prefer
Master Dreadthorn
, if you don't mind,” he said stiffly, brushing past Morgana. The rest of us shuffled in behind. I noticed immediately that the Morgana students were nowhere to be found.

I was about to mention this to the others but didn't get a chance because Morgana was organizing everyone for a tour. This was mostly for the Crooks who hadn't been to Mistress Morgana's school before. We started in the entrance hall, where portraits of famous alumni hung on the walls. She named them off for us, as if we hadn't studied them in Dad's history class. He looked even more offended than the rest of us.

“And this,” Morgana said, pointing to an enormous painting of Jezebel's dad, “is our dear friend Count Dracula. I believe his niece or someone like that goes to your school, Veldin?” she asked.

“I'm his
daughter!
” Jezebel answered. I could tell that Morgana had known that perfectly well.

“Of course you are, dear. Of course. I'm just a little surprised that a villain as great as Dracula would have a daughter at a school for
wayward
villains,” Morgana answered. I thought I saw Jezebel's cheeks flush, which was pretty weird considering she didn't have a heartbeat.

Master Dreadthorn narrowed his eyes as Morgana went on and on about how she and the count (Dracula) were
such good friends
. As far as villains go, the count was at the top of the list. Plus he was rich. He donated gold to both villain schools, but the fact that the count adored Morgana and pretty much ignored Master Dreadthorn didn't do much for my dad's feelings toward Morgana. He loathed the woman.

“My dad went here,” Wolf Junior piped up. “But I don't see his picture on the wall.”

Morgana wrinkled her nose as if Wolf smelled bad (which he kind of did, but it still wasn't very nice). “We only hang portraits of
important
alumni,” she answered curtly. “I don't believe eating pork and scaring little girls in red capes really qualifies someone.”

Wolf growled.

By the time we'd climbed up and down a gazillion steps and met all the teachers, I was famished. So famished, in fact, that I'd nearly forgotten my Plot. Then we arrived back at the entrance, where tables had been set up, but instead of food, they were filled with flickering lanterns.

“It's such a lovely night,” Morgana said. “Let's take a stroll.”

Everyone groaned loudly at the idea of walking around outside. However, one look from Dreadthorn and most of the students were smart enough to shut up—except one. The stupid troll Crook hadn't even dried yet when the Dread Master hoisted him up by the back of his cloak, carried him outside, and flung him back into the moat. Some kids never learn.

Morgana and Master Dreadthorn each picked up a lantern and motioned for us to do the same.

“This way,” Morgana said.

We followed them back outside, where a dark trail disappeared into a dense wood. The troll kid sloshed along beside us—silent now—as we followed the path beneath the skeletal trees.

“Are we there yet?” Wolf muttered next to me. “I'm starved.”

“Yeah, I could do with a bite myself,” Jezebel said. She turned to look at me in an appraising sort of way.

“Don't even think about it,” I said, eyeing her nervously.

“What?” she asked innocently. “I was just going to ask if you had any chocolate on you.”

“Here.” Chad passed out a few gingerbread men to tide us over. We had to cover their mouths to muffle the screams so the Dread Master wouldn't catch us snacking.

On we trudged for what seemed like an eternity. The fall evening had turned cool beneath the orange glow of the harvest moon.

The sound of teeth chattering came from somewhere nearby, and I thought it must be the troll kid. I was about to tell him off when I realized it was Chad, cowering in fear next to me and jumping every time a branch snapped or an owl hooted.

“Don't be a baby. You're embarrassing yourself,” I said, even as I pulled my cloak tighter. I mean,
I
wasn't afraid or anything. Villains
do not
get afraid walking through dark, disturbing woods with tree-bark eyes and scratchy leaf voices and groping, gnarled branch-hands. I was just
cold.

Finally, we emerged from the woods and into a well-lit clearing. I sighed with relief as the feeling of dread … uh …
cold
faded. Before us stretched an enormous black swamp and six ultralong tables that had been set with china plates, fine silverware, and elaborate centerpieces.

“Ah! He must have known I'd be here. Why else would he go to such trouble?” Jez said, looking particularly haughty.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

She gestured to the decorations.

All around the clearing, skulls had been set on spikes with little flickering candles inside them, making the empty eye sockets glow. I also noticed skulls on the tables, hollowed out like bowls and containing various exotic foods. It looked
expensive
—and slightly repulsive.

Most of Master Dreadthorn's students were staring with their mouths open like a bunch of slobbering morons. Morgana looked smugly satisfied. And now I could see what Jez had been talking about. Black cards had been placed on every table. An elegant silver script announced:

The harvest moon festivities, provisions, table service, and skulls were made possible by a generous donation from Count Dracula.

“Uh, Jez,” Wolf said, “I'm not sure all this is for you.”

“What?” she asked dangerously.

“I don't think your dad—ouch!”

I pinched Wolf and whispered, “Let. It. Go. Do you
see
her face?”

We both turned to see Jez baring her teeth at us.

“Never mind,” Wolf said.

Standing to either side of the tables were the students of Mistress Morgana's. I'd forgotten they were required to wear uniforms here. They looked like rows of toy soldiers. The boys wore black trousers, white shirts, black cloaks, and funny little velvet berets. The girls wore similar outfits, only with skirts instead of pants. This worked for most of the kids, but the trolls, giants, and other non-humans (who were usually clad in cut-offs or loincloths) looked positively ridiculous.

Morgana's school used the same Educational Villain Levels as our school. I could see the poor Crooks balancing heavy trays of food and standing by to wait on the others. They had no berets at all. The rest of the ranks were sorted by hat color. Green for Rogues, blue for Fiends, red for Apprentices, and the school Masters wore gold, except for Mistress Morgana. Apparently, the dress code didn't apply to her.

Morgana made her way between the rows of tables, with Master Dreadthorn next to her. We all followed gracelessly behind in no particular order. I noticed that as Morgana passed, her perfect rows of students bowed in unison.

“Suck-ups,” I said under my breath. “I'm glad we don't have to wear stuff like that.”

“I dunno, Rune,” Wolf said, nodding toward my dad.

I could see the way the Dread Master's eyes flicked from Morgana's orderly rows to his own unorganized mob. I worried that changes might be coming for the students of Master Dreadthorn's School for Wayward Villains—changes involving berets and color coordination.

No tables had been designated for us. Apparently, we were supposed to mingle with Morgana's students. Luckily, I managed to find a place with extra openings, so Jezebel, Chad, and Wolf all sat with me. Across from us, Morgana's students were still standing, their tidy cloaks fluttering in the cool night breeze.

BOOK: Good Curses Evil
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