Isle of the Lost (22 page)

But then Carlos tried not to think about it, because his heart was pounding so loudly, he thought the others would hear it. He began to recite the periodic table of the elements in his head to calm himself down. Atomic numbers and electrons were always somewhat comforting in times of stress, he’d found.

And the more numbers he recited, the easier it was to put one foot in front of the other.

Which is exactly what he did.

Carlos stepped up on to the first stone paver that led to the sloping bridge. Just as he did, the stone gargoyles began to flap their wings in front of them.

“Whoa!” Jay said.

“No,” Evie said. “Just, no.”

“How is this possible?” asked Jay. “There’s no magic on the island.”

“The hole in the dome,” said Carlos. “It must have sparked the castle to life or something, like a chemical reaction.” It made sense—not only had Diablo been unfrozen, but the whole fortress as well.

Carlos moved his way up the next step, and then the next, until he was standing level with the main ramp of the bridge itself. Mal and Evie and Jay now followed behind him.

The creatures growled as they came to life around them, the bridge rumbling beneath their feet. The gryphons’ horrible eyes glowed green, illuminating the fog around them, until they were practically shining a spotlight on the four intruders. The gargoyles uncurled their hunched backs, now almost doubling themselves in height.

Evie was right, Carlos thought. They were really ugly things, with snaggly teeth and forked tongues. He couldn’t look away from the hideous faces hovering over him. “This must be residue, left over from the magical years,” he said. “Whatever did this was probably part of the same power that sparked Diablo to life.”

“The same power?” Mal looked spellbound. “You mean, my mother’s?”

“Or the same electromagnetic wave.” Carlos thought about his last Weird Science class. “I’m not sure how to tell the difference anymore.”

Jay swallowed as a gargoyle leaned down, looking as if it could spring at Carlos at any moment. “Right now, I’m pretty sure the difference doesn’t matter.”

“Who goes there?” boomed the gargoyle to the right of Carlos.

“You cannot pass,” said the one on his left.

“Yeah? Says who?” Carlos took a step back, as did the rest of the group following behind him. They looked at each other nervously, unsure of what to do next. They hadn’t known about the gargoyles, hadn’t expected a fight. This was going to be more difficult than they expected, maybe even impossible.

But it didn’t matter. Even Carlos knew there was no turning back now.

“You ugly things need to move!” said Mal, shouting from behind him. She glared at the gryphons. “Or I’m going to make you!”

The gargoyles growled and grimaced, flapping their stone wings as a threat.

“Any ideas?” Carlos looked over his shoulder nervously. “We don’t have weapons or magic. What would we fight with? Besides, how do we fight something made of stone?”

“There has to be a way,” Mal said. “We have to pass!” she shouted again. “Let us through!”

“Yeah, I’m not sure that’s working.” Evie sighed.

The gargoyles glared at the children with glowing eyes, their fangs bared, their stony wings beating the wind. “You cannot pass,” they said again in unison—and just as the creatures spoke, the thick gray clouds surrounding the long stone ramp dissipated, revealing a gap in the bridge, a forty-foot gulf with nothing below but air.

The bridge was broken, virtually impassable.

“Great,” Jay said. “So it’s over. Fine. Whatever. Can we go now?”

The others just stared.

Carlos had to admit Jay was probably right.

There was no apparent way to reach the castle. They had come all this way only to fail. Even if they could pass the gargoyles, there was no way to cross the bridge since
there was no bridge
. It was hopeless. Their journey was ended before it had truly begun.

Carlos stepped back and noticed something carved in the stones at the foot of the bridge. He sat down to read it.

“What is it?” Mal asked, kneeling next to him.

He brushed away the dirt and moss to reveal a sentence carved in the stones:
Ye who trespass the bridge must earn the right of way.

“Great. So what are those, like, directions?” Mal looked at the others. “What does that mean? How do we earn the right of way?”

Evie shook her head as she glanced back up at the gargoyles and the broken bridge. “I don’t know, Mal. We don’t seem to have earned anything.”

“And technically, we are trespassers,” Jay said.

Evie frowned. “I think we should go. Maybe the bridge was destroyed—maybe it’s been like this for years. Maybe no one gets in and out now.”

“No. Those words have to mean something. But is it a riddle, or a warning?” Mal asked. She looked at the gap in the bridge and pushed her way past the others, toward the edge. She was determined to figure it out.

“What are you doing?” Carlos yelled. “Mal, wait! You’re not thinking straight.”

But she couldn’t wait, and she didn’t stop.

He took a step back, Jay and Evie flanking him. “Go after her,” Carlos said. “Pull her from the break in the stone before she falls. This is crazy.”

Jay nodded and followed her.

“It’s so sad,” Evie said. “To have come this far.”

“I know. But half a bridge might as well be no bridge at all,” Carlos muttered. He put down his machine and turned it off so that he wouldn’t have to listen to its beeping. The noise of the sensor—more proof of how close they’d come to finding the source of the power—only made things that much worse.

The moment Carlos killed the machine, the light in the gargoyles’ eyes faded. The eerie green glow receded back into their black stone sockets.

“Wait—did you just—”

Carlos looked incredulous. “Turn off the monsters? I think so.” He called out to Mal, who was now standing with Jay, just a few feet from the break in the stone ramp. “They’re like big doorbells, Mal. When we try to cross, they turn on. When we go to leave, they turn off.”

“So they’re another defense mechanism?” Evie looked unconvinced.

“Maybe.” Carlos studied the bridge. “Anything’s possible. At least, that’s what I’m starting to think.”

Mal came running back. “So maybe it’s just a test. Look,” she said, approaching the gargoyles, their eyes once more glowing. “Ask me your questions!” she called up to the guardians of the bridge. “Let us earn the right of way.”

But the gargoyles didn’t answer her.

“Maybe you’re not turning it on right,” Evie said.

“Maybe this is just a waste of time.” Jay sighed.

“No, it’s not,” Mal said, giving them a beseeching look. “This is my mother’s castle. We’ve found it, and there has to be a way in. Look at the inscription on the stone—it has to be some kind of test.”

Jay spoke up. “Carlos said they’re like a doorbell. But what if they’re not? What if they’re like the alarm system in a house? All we would have to know to disable them is the code.” He shrugged. “I mean, that’s what I would do, if I was trying to break in.”

Of any of us, he would know, Carlos thought.

“So what’s the code?” Mal turned back to the gargoyles, her eyes blazing. “Tell me, you idiots!”

She drew herself up to her full height and spoke in a voice that Carlos knew well. It was how Cruella spoke to him, and how Maleficent spoke to her minions from the balcony. He was impressed. He’d never seen Mal so like her mother as now.

Mal did not ask the gargoyles, she commanded them.

“This is my mother’s castle, and you are her servants. You will do as I bid. ASK YOUR RIDDLE AND LET US PASS!” she ordered, looking as if she were home—truly home—for the first time.

Because, as they could all now see, she was.

A moment went by.

The mists swirled, in the background, ravens cawed, and green light pulsed in the distant windows of the castle.

“Carlosssssssss,” hissed the gargoyles, in disturbingly creepy unison. “Approaaaach ussssssss.”

Hearing his name, Carlos took a step forward with an awestruck look on his face. “Why me?”

“Maybe because you touched the step first? So the alarm is set on Carlos mode?” Jay scratched his head. “Better you than me, man.”

“Time for the pass code.” Mal nodded. “You got this, Carlos.”

Then the gargoyles began to hiss again. “Carlosssssss. First quesssssstion…”

Carlos took a breath. It was just like school, he thought. He liked school. He liked answering questions that had answers, right? So wasn’t this just another question? That needed just another answer?

No sooner had the gargoyles stopped speaking than rumbling began beneath their feet. “Carlos!” Evie cried, stumbling as she tried to stand in place.

“What?” Carlos ran his hand through his hair anxiously. His mind was reeling.

Ink is black. Snow is white. What’s red and rough? A steak? Who loves a steak? We haven’t had those in a while, anyway. And what does any of this have to do with me?

“Answer the question!” Mal said. The light was once more fading from the gargoyles’ eyes.

“It’s—” said Carlos, stalling. He was stuck.

Black. White. Spots. Red. Loved. Lost.

“The puppies. My mother’s puppies, the Dalmatians. All one hundred and one of them. All loved and all lost, by her.” He looked up at the stone faces. “Though I think the love part is debatable.”

Silence.

“Do I need to say the names? Because I swear I can tell them to you, every last one of them.” He took a breath. “Pongo. Perdita. Patch. Lucky. Roly Poly. Freckles. Pepper…” When he had finished speaking, the mist once more congealed around the bridge. Carlos let out a sigh.

It hadn’t worked.

“Wait!” Mal said, pointing to the spot where the mists had congealed. “It’s doing something.” The gray mist parted, revealing a new section of the bridge, a piece that had not existed a moment ago.

The gargoyles cleared a path, and the four of them ran out onto it, hurrying to the newly formed edge, waiting for the next question.

“NEXT RIDDLE!” Mal demanded, just as a ferocious wind blew at them. Carlos was beginning to get the feeling the bridge had more than a few ways of getting rid of unwanted visitors. He swallowed.

They needed to hurry.

Or rather, he did.

“Carlossssssss. Next quessssssstion.”

He nodded.

the gargoyles hissed in their eerie unison, turning to face them, claws raised. Their muscles flexed and their tails whipped, their forked tongues raking their fangs. It looked as if they might pounce at any moment.

Once again, the bridge began to shift beneath their feet.

“‘Her kiss is death,’” echoed Carlos. “It has to be about my mother. Is that the answer? Cruella De Vil?”

The bridge began to shake even harder.

Wrong answer.

“But it
is
about your mother!” said Evie, suddenly. “A rose in a blizzard, it blooms like a cut…her kiss…it’s about what color lipstick she wears! Cruella’s signature red!”

Carlos was dumbfounded. “It is?”

“A red smear—see? It means it’s something she puts on. Oh, I know what it is!” Evie said. “The answer is Cherries in the Snow! That has to be it; it’s been everywhere this season. I mean—judging from what’s been thrown away on the Dumpster barges.”

Mal rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you know that.”

The wind whipped up again, and the four of them locked hands, holding on to one another for support. They pressed their shoulders together, bracing themselves against the gale.

Evie cursed. “It’s not Cherries in the Snow? I could swear that was it. Red with a pinkish undertone. No, wait—wait—it didn’t have a pink undertone, it was darker.
Redder
. A ‘true red’—what did the magazines call it? Frost and Flame? No—Fire and Ice! That’s it! Cruella’s pout is made of Fire and Ice!”

The gargoyles paused, their eyes glowing. They stood in place as the mist once more congealed around the bridge, then thinned to reveal another new section.

Carlos relaxed. Jay whooped—and even Mal clapped Evie on the back as they advanced across the bridge.

One more answered question, and the way would be clear.

“Ask your last riddle!” Mal charged them.

The gargoyles looked crafty.

“Carlosssssss. Last quesssssstion.”

He nodded.

Mal looked at him encouragingly.

Here it goes, one last time.

The creatures hissed in unison, and as soon as they finished speaking, they walked toward the four, teeth shining, claws raised, wings flapping. The gargoyles would tear them to shreds if Carlos answered incorrectly—the four of them saw that now.

Carlos had to get it right, not just to cross the bridge but to keep them all alive. “‘Dark is her heart’—they must mean Maleficent, right?” He turned to Mal. “But it could mean any of our mothers.”

“My mother has no true love. My mother loves nothing and nobody! Not even me!” said Mal, with a slight pang that Carlos knew all too well.

“Don’t look at me. I don’t even
have
a mother,” Jay said.

“Beauty!” Evie called out. “That’s mine. I know…it’s a little cliché.”

But the gargoyles were not interested in anything anyone had to say. Coming closer, parting the mists, their tails swishing: “WHAT IS HER ONE TRUE LOVE?” they demanded, looking from Evie to Carlos to Mal to Jay.

“My
father
?” Mal ventured.

Carlos shook his head. If Maleficent was anything like Cruella, she hated Mal’s father with a vengeance. Cruella had forbidden any questions about his own, no matter how curious Carlos was, how much he wanted to know. As far as Cruella was concerned, Carlos was hers alone. Maleficent had to be the same.