Isle of the Lost (25 page)

Even when the hallways ran long and straight again, the castle was still rumbling, the walls still tilting; and the ceiling was even lower now where they found themselves.

“It’s not random,” Carlos said, suddenly. “It’s in a rhythm.”

“You’re right,” Jay said. “Look. The rumbling seems to go along with your beeping box. When the box lights up, the walls start to move.”

Evie stared. “You mean, he’s the one doing it?”

Carlos shook his head. “Actually, I think it’s the waves. Imagine how old this castle must be. What if, each time a wave strikes the foundation, a stone falls, or the floors rumble?”

Mal swallowed. “I just hope the castle itself doesn’t crumble before we find the scepter.”

Evie bent down so her head wouldn’t hit the ceiling. All of them except for Carlos had to crouch down now to avoid it.

“It’s a room made for mice,” said Mal.

“Or dwarfs?” asked Evie.

“Or children?” guessed Jay.

“No,” Carlos said, quieting the others, pointing to something in the dark distance. They followed the line of his gaze, seeing at first a pair of green glowing eyes, then another and another.

“Goblins,” said Carlos. “This is where the goblins live. That’s why the ceilings are so low and the corridors are so strange. This isn’t a place for humans,” he said, and when he finished, the air filled with a terrible, raucous laughter, the sound of claws tapping and teeth grinding. The box had led them right into the goblins’ den.

“Super,” Mal said.

“Yeah, good work,” Jay snorted.

Evie just glared at Carlos.

And these weren’t the friendly, enterprising goblins of the wharf or the rude ones from the Slop Shop. These were horrible creatures that had lived in darkness without their mistress for twenty years. Hungry and horrible.

“What do we do?” Jay asked, cowering behind Carlos, who had flattened himself against the wall of the corridor.

“We run,” Evie and Mal cried, one after the other.

They ran toward the only open passageway, the goblin horde shrieking in the darkness, following behind them, their spears beating against the walls.

Jay shouted, “I guess they don’t get a lot of visitors.”

“Maybe they should stop eating their guests,” Carlos said, nearly tripping over what he hoped was not a bone.

“That door!” Evie said, pointing to a heavy wooden door. “Everyone in!”

They hurried through the doorway, and Evie slammed the door after them, throwing the lock and sealing the goblins out.

“That was close,” said Mal.

“Too close,” Jay echoed. The goblins could still be heard on the far side of the door, cackling and tapping it with their spears.

“Maybe they just like to scare people?” Evie said. “I heard they were mostly harmless.”

“Yeah, mostly,” said Carlos, sucking his hand where a spear had almost hit it. “Let’s not wait around to find out.”

When it sounded as if the goblins had gone, Evie cracked open the door. She made sure they were alone before she nodded to Carlos. They continued down the narrow hallways finding nothing but empty chambers until she spied a light shining from a hidden hallway. “Over here!” she called.

She walked toward the light excitedly, thinking it might be the Dragon’s Eye glinting in the dark.

And stopped short—because she was standing in front of a mirror.

A dark, stained, cracked mirror, but a mirror nonetheless.

Evie screamed.

“A monster!” she said.

“What is it?” Mal asked, following and looking over Evie’s shoulder. Then Mal screamed too.

Carlos and Jay bumped up next.

“A beast,” Evie yelled. “A hideous beast!”

Evie was still screaming and pointing to her reflection. In the mirror, an old woman with a crooked nose and wearing a black cape pointed right back.

The hag was her.

“What’s happened to me?” she asked, her voice, rough and quavery. Worse, when she looked down, she saw that her formerly smooth skin was saggy, wrinkly, and dotted with liver spots. She looked at her hair—white and scraggly. She was an old beggar woman, and not just in the mirror.

She wasn’t the only one.

Mal was frowning at her reflection. She had a warty nose, and her head was mostly bald except for a few white strands. “Charming. It’s got to be some kind of spell.”

Jay shook his head. “But—once again, and let’s say it all together now—there’s no magic on the island.”

“There was a moment—for a single second—when my machine burned a hole in the dome, and I think maybe that was what did it.”

“Did what, exactly?” Evie asked, looking spooked.

“Brought Diablo back to life, sparked the Dragon’s Eye and the gargoyles and the Cave of Wonders, and probably everything that used to be magical in this fortress,” said Carlos. “I mean, maybe. Or not.”

“I don’t know, I don’t think I look THAT bad,” said Jay, who grinned at his reflection. He was chubby and pasty, bearded and gray, and looked exactly like his father. He too was wearing a black cloak. “I look like I got my hands on a whole lot of cake in my life, at least.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Carlos, who was frightened to see that in old age he resembled his mother, feature for feature: knotted neck, high cheekbones, bug-eyed glare. “I think I’d rather face the goblins than this.”

“I’m with you.” Evie couldn’t look at herself for another moment.

She began to panic; her throat was constricting. She
couldn’t
look like this! She was beautiful! She was—

“Fairest,” agreed the mirror.

“Not the voice!” Evie shouted, before she realized what, exactly, she had heard. Because this time, it wasn’t her mother doing her Mirror Voice, as it so often was.

It was an actual Magic Mirror. On an actual wall.

They all turned to the mirror, whose human-esque features had appeared as a ghostly presence in the reflective glass.

said the Magic Mirror.

“It’s a word problem!” said Carlos, gleefully. He loved word problems.

“No, it’s not. It’s a spell,” Jay said, looking at him like he was crazy.

“I knew it!” said Mal.

“What’s a peddler’s disguise?” asked Jay.

“Obviously—it’s
this
. It’s what’s happened to
us
,” said Mal. “Evie, do you know what goes into making a peddler’s disguise? It sounds like if we can name all the ingredients, we can reverse the spell.”

“Not us,” Carlos pointed out. “Evie. It says, you know, the Fairest.” He looked at Mal, suddenly embarrassed. “Sorry, Mal.”

“There’s nothing fair about me now,” Evie said. “But I have heard of the Peddler’s Disguise, though.” Her eyes were back on the glass, still riveted by her awful looks in the mirror.

“Of course you have. It’s only your mother’s most famous disguise! Remember—when she fooled Snow White into taking the apple?” said Mal impatiently.

“Don’t pressure me! You’re making me panic. It’s like, I used to know it, but now I can’t think of anything except
her
.” Evie pointed at her reflection. “I’m paralyzed.”

“I don’t know. I think it’s kind of cool,” Jay said. “You could steal a whole lot of stuff, looking like that.”

Carlos nodded. “He does have a point. You might want to give the whole getup a test run.”

Evie started to wail.

“Not helping,” Mal scolded.

Evie wailed all the more loudly.

“Evie, come on. That’s not you. You know that. Don’t let my mother’s evil fortress get under your skin,” Mal said, sounding as passionate on the subject as Evie had ever heard her sound about anything at all.

“This is what my—I mean, Maleficent does. She finds your weaknesses and picks them off, one by one. You think it’s an accident that we stumbled across this Magic Mirror, right when we happened to have the Fairest along for the ride?”

“You think it’s on purpose?” Evie looked calmer, and even a little intrigued.

“I think it’s a test, just like everything else in this place. Like Carlos and the gargoyles, or Jay and the Mouth.”

“Okay,” Evie said slowly, nodding at Mal. “You really think I can do it?”

“I know you can, you loser. I mean,
Fairest
loser.” Mal grinned.

Evie grinned back.

Okay, maybe she could do this. “I have studied that spell a hundred times in my mother’s grimoire.”

“That’s the spirit,” Mal said, thumping her on the back.

“I can see the words of the spell as clearly as if it were before me now,” Evie said a little more loudly, standing a little straighter.

“There you go. Of course you can. It’s a classic.”

“A classic,” Evie said to herself. “That was what I called it. Remember?”

Could she?

Then she looked her old, ugly self right in the eye.

“‘Mummy dust, to make me look old!’” she cried.

Suddenly, her wrinkles disappeared. Carlos whooped with joy, because his had vanished as well. And he’d hated seeing Cruella’s frown lines on his face.

Evie smiled. “‘To shroud my clothes, black of night!’”

In a flash, they were wearing their own clothes again.

“‘To age my voice, an old hag’s cackle!’” she said, and even as she said it, her real voice returned, young and melodic once again.

Jay laughed in delight, and it was no longer an old man’s gruff chuckle.

“‘To whiten my hair, a scream of fright!’” said Evie, watching as her hair went back to the dark, beautiful blue hue. Mal’s thick purple locks returned, and the black seeped back into Carlos’s white hair.

Evie was almost done now, and her voice gained confidence as she remembered the last words of the incantation. “‘A blast of wind to fan my hate, a thunderbolt to mix it well, now reverse this magic spell!’”

All four of them cheered and yelled and jumped around like crazy idiots. Even Evie was grinning now.

She had never been so happy to see herself in the mirror, and now that she was herself again, she found that for once in her life, nobody even cared how she looked. Not even her.

It was like magic.

A
s she trudged behind the others, Mal thought about what she’d said to Evie—how everything at the Forbidden Fortress had been a test.

Carlos had faced the gargoyles, and Jay, the Cave of Wonders. Evie had endured the Magic Mirror.

What about me?

What’s in store for me?

Was danger—in the form of a challenge all her own—waiting for her, just behind the next castle door?

Or would it be even more like my mother to ignore me altogether? To leave me alone, and think I wasn’t worthy of any kind of test at all?

She closed her eyes. She could almost hear her mother’s voice now.

What is there to test, Mal? You aren’t like me. You’re weak, like your father. You don’t even deserve your own name.

Mal opened her eyes.

Either way, nothing changed the place where they were standing.

Maleficent’s home. Her lair.

Mal was on her mother’s turf now, whether or not she was welcome there. And she knew that whatever happened next was about the two of them, test or not. Quest or not.

Even, Dragon’s Eye or not.

Mal couldn’t shake the feeling that something or someone was watching her; she’d felt it since she left home that morning, and the presence was even stronger in the fortress. But every time she looked over her shoulder there was nothing. Maybe she was just being paranoid.

Past the mirrored hallway, Mal and the others walked through a corridor hung with purple and gold pennants and great tapestries, depicting all the surrounding kingdoms. It was hard to tell one from the next, though, mostly because the dust was so thick. As they walked, they even made tracks across the dusty stones, as if they were instead trudging through hallways of snow.

But on they went.

The corridors bent and twisted, the floor sometimes seeming uneven, the walls angling one way or the other, making them all feel as if they were in a dream or a fun-house or someplace that didn’t really exist.

A fairy tale come to life.

A castle—only, the way castles looked in nightmares.

Every wall and every stone was rendered in shades of gray and black, a faint green glow sometimes seeping through a wedge here and there.

Mother’s home,
Mal thought every time she noticed the green light.

The total effect was excruciating for all four of them—even for Mal.

Or, especially for Mal.

The cracked stained glass windows were the only other source of color. The old glass was mostly broken, and sections of the windows lay entirely in ruins, their shards dashed across the floor. Mal and the others had to step carefully to avoid slipping on one of pieces. The long, window-lined corridor gave way to an even taller and wider corridor, and before long, Mal knew they were approaching some place of significance, a great chamber, perhaps even the heart of the castle itself.

Mal walked toward her fate, as Evie had said. Her destiny, if that’s what it was.