The Autumn Castle (61 page)

“Well, you see, Hexebart has something the queen wants very much.”

“What is it?”

“Never you mind. It’s a private thing.”

Mandy rolled his eyes. “If this is more of your time-wasting—”

“No, no. You have to trust me.”

“What is your plan?” he said again.

“I’ll tell her to meet me here and that if she meets me here, I’ll give her the thing she wants.”

Mandy nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. A typically vague explanation. “I see. How are you going to tell her to meet you
when we don’t know where she is?”

“Oh, I know where she is,” Hexebart replied airily.

Mandy’s attention snapped into focus. He shot out of his chair. “What?”

“I said I listened the house last night. I heard them talking about a particular hotel that—”

“Which hotel? Where is she?” Why hadn’t the old hag told him last night? He stalked over and reached out to shake her.

Hexebart slipped out of his grasp like mercury, and shoved a hard finger deep into the flesh of his chest. “Now you listen
to me, Immanuel,” she hissed.

Mandy took a step back, surprised and, if he admitted it to himself, a little frightened. He had never seen her as anything
but a pathetic, occasionally mischievous hag. He had to remember she was a faery, and faeries had magical abilities and unpredictable
natures. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Do you want to kill the little queen?”

“Yes, you know I do.”

“And do you want to do it in your lovely secret room up the stairs?”

“Yes,” he said.

“And hasn’t Hexebart been helpful so far? Making the silent spell. Listening the house.”

“Yes.”

“Then stick with Hexebart’s plan and don’t be grabbing me and threatening me or I won’t tell you a thing. I swear I won’t.”

Mandy bit his tongue. He could relish killing her and boning her later. “I’m sorry, Hexebart. What is your plan?”

“I already told you. I’ll bring her here tonight, I’ll say I’m alone, we’ll trick her upstairs into your room, and then she’ll
get what she deserves. Sulky little sow. Nasty little changeling.”

“All right, all right then,” Mandy conceded. He would trust Hexebart to lure Mayfridh into the apartment. If she couldn’t,
he would torture her tomorrow for Mayfridh’s whereabouts.

Hexebart was giggling. “Hee, hee,” she said, “I know, I know.”

“What do you know?” he asked.

She gave him a coquettish smile. “I know what Immanuel has up in the secret room.” She pointed at the ceiling. “Hexebart knows,
Hexebart kno-ows.”

“How do you know?”

“Hexebart has special fingers.” She held her left hand out and, right in front of his eyes, the index finger extended and
grew thin, the bone within creaking. “Hexebart can get into any room.”

“You’ve been snooping in my boning room?” She must have seen the Bone Wife. Did she realize it was made of faery bones?

“You have a magic doll,” she said. “I saw it.”

“It’s not a doll, it’s a work of art,” he replied.

“You want more magic for the doll. That’s why you want Mayfridh.”

He gazed at her warily. “And what if I do?”

“You boil off everything, just keep the bones.”

“That’s right.”

“There’s more magic. There’s magic in her eyes and magic in her hair and magic in her skin.” Hexebart pinched a fingerful
of her own crepey skin to demonstrate.

“I only want her bones.”

“You’ll waste the magic. I know a way to extract it all.”

“How?”

“Hexebart can show you. Hexebart can make you a little spell to help.” She pushed her hands together and her fingers tapped
each other gently. As Mandy watched, a golden glow began to grow between them. “Ah, ah, spin and spin,” Hexebart said. Moments
later she presented him with a glowing ball, about the size of an eyeball. “For you, Immanuel.”

“What is it? What do I do with it?”

“Make Mayfridh touch the doll, then blow this spell on her and say,
‘Extract.’
All the magic will flow into the doll. Then you can kill the queen and not waste a drop of royal magic. Lovely, lovely royal
magic.” Hexebart leaned close. “She’s full of it, you know,” she whispered, her breath warm and garlic-scented in his face.

Mandy gazed at the ball on his palm. This was worth all the food Hexebart had eaten, all the mess she had made. He was feeling
so fond and generous in that moment, he considered letting her go once Mayfridh was dead. His smile turned to a frown. If
she knew what the sculpture was made of, why wasn’t she worried that she might be his next victim?

“Why are you helping me?” he asked.

“Because you’re hiding me until Mayfridh is dead. Once she’s dead, I don’t have to hide and I don’t have to stay here. Hexebart
is running away to Paris.”

Mandy weighed her words. He had a spell to extract all of Mayfridh’s magic, and he had Mayfridh’s bones within his grasp.
The Bone Wife would be finished, and she would be perfectly enchanted. She would be able to make him breakfast in bed, wash
his sheets, clean his toilet. Oh, it would be bliss, a lifetime’s achievement, a boyhood dream made manifest. “Very well,
Hexebart. You may run away to Paris,” he said. “As long as I finish my sculpture, I don’t care what you do.”

“Oh, you wait until you see your dolly dance once she has royal magic in her,” Hexebart said, lifting her skirts and kicking
her legs in a jig. “La, da da. La, da da.”

“What time?”

“Midnight,” Hexebart said in a portentous voice, raising a crooked finger. “The hour for witches.” With a sweep of her arm,
she cleared the drawings off his desk.

“Hey!” he protested.

“Shush now, Immanuel,” she said, reaching for his hands. “We are too busy for drawings. We have scheming to do.”

Mayfridh was returning from the breakfast room of her hotel when she heard the phone ringing. She placed her room key on the
table and scooped up the receiver. This would be Jude, she knew it. He would be phoning to tell her he’d made his decision,
he was coming to Ewigkreis with her.

“Hello?” she said.

“Hello? Hello?” A female voice, familiar but too strange in this context to pinpoint exactly.

“Who is this?” She could hear Diana in the bathroom, water running, a soft humming.

“It’s me.”

Mayfridh puzzled a moment longer, then the voice made sense. “Hexebart?” she gasped. Of course, Hexebart. The old witch was
too clever to appear in person. “Where are you?”

“Never you mind, never you mind that.” Her voice was distant, quiet, as though she hadn’t quite got the hang of how to use
the phone. “You must do as I say, Queen Mayfridh. I know things, I know awful things.”

Hexebart had never called her Queen Mayfridh. “What are you talking about?”

“I know awful things and I was wrong. I want to give your magic back.”

“Hexebart, you’ll have to explain better than that.”

“He’s coming,” she whispered urgently. “I have to go. Meet me at Immanuel’s house at midnight. I’ll leave the door open and
I’ll make sure he isn’t home. Bring the others if you like.”

“If you’re going to give my magic back, why not now? Why not come here in person?”

“Trust me, stubborn girl.” Then the phone clicked.

“Hello? Hexebart? Damn!” She slammed the phone down as her mother emerged from the bathroom.

“Is everything all right, May?”

“I don’t know. I doubt it.” She was already grabbing her coat and scarf. “I have to find Jude and the others and see what
they think.”

Diana gently took her elbow as she headed for the door. “Jude and the others? Don’t you mean Christine and the others?”

Mayfridh shook her off with an involuntary scowl. “They’re all my friends now.”

“May, I hope you’re being careful. With your own heart, and with the hearts of others.” Diana’s eyes were soft and sincere;
Mayfridh felt herself start to crumple inside.

“Mum, I’m . . .” Then a sob caught in her throat. “I’m in a terrible mess, Mum.”

Diana folded her into her arms and rubbed her back. “Oh, May. Are you in love with him?”

Mayfridh nodded. “And he’s in love with me, but we can’t be together.”

“Because he belongs to Christine?”

“No, because he belongs to the Real World.” Mayfridh brought her tears under control and stood back. “I can’t deal with this
now, I can’t think about it. Hexebart called. She wants me to meet her tonight, she says she’ll give back my magic.”

Diana’s face paled at the mention of the witch. “Tell me you aren’t going near her. Tell me you don’t trust her.”

“Of course I don’t trust her, but it may be my only opportunity to catch her. If the others will help.” Mayfridh pulled on
her coat. “She called me Queen Mayfridh, Mum. It’s the first time she’s ever done that. She said she’d found out something
awful. Maybe she knows about Mandy and his bone-hunting. Maybe it’s made her change her mind about me.” Mayfridh almost laughed,
imagining Eisengrimm’s skepticism. “Whatever she has planned for me, though, she has to be at Mandy’s at midnight to do it.
She’s eluded me until now, and time is running out.”

Diana gave her a quick squeeze. “Be careful, May. I don’t want to lose you a second time.”

Mayfridh forced a smile. They both knew that a second loss was inevitable. “I’ll be careful.” She kissed her mother on the
cheek and headed for Hotel Mandy-Z.

She found Jude alone in his studio. He was sitting on the blue sofa surrounded by sealed and labeled boxes. The room seemed
bare and empty, cleared of the usual mess. He gazed at a half-finished canvas, a cigarette dangling between his lips.

“Hi,” she said.

“Don’t close the door,” he replied, obviously mindful of their last encounter here, when Gerda had found them. “I’m expecting
Christine.”

“What are you looking for?”

“I never liked this one, so I’m leaving it. I’m just trying to memorize the parts of it that I can use somewhere else.”

She didn’t have time to appreciate his painting. “Hexebart has been in touch.”

“Yeah?”

Mayfridh explained while Jude responded with a dubious drawing-down of his eyebrows.

“It may be my best chance of capturing Hexebart,” she finished. “I have to do it.”

“I understand. I think the others will understand too, and we’ll come with you, but not Christine. Christine has suffered
enough. If we all get turned into frogs—”

“I keep telling you she can’t turn us into frogs, and I’ll have those last few spells with me in case she tries any mischief.”

“Nevertheless, I don’t want Christine there. She’s not herself, Mayfridh. She’s withdrawn; she won’t talk to me. I can’t imagine
what she’s going through.” He held up his left hand, the cigarette firmly between his two forefingers. “You know she lost
her engagement ring along with it.”

Mayfridh’s skin prickled with irritation. He spoke as though he were really in love with Christine. “Jude, don’t pretend there’s
nothing between us.”

“There’s nothing between us, Mayfridh,” he said, and drew deeply on his cigarette.

“I’ll never believe that. You can still change your mind and come with me. If I can catch Hexebart tonight, I’ll be leaving
tomorrow. You could come with me. You could forget all your guilt, all the awful things that weigh on your heart. We’ll have
love and laughter and a future. You’ll be the king of a magnificent land, you’ll live for hundreds of years, young and beautiful.”

Jude shook his head. “That’s not my future, Mayfridh,” he said.

“Why not?” She wanted to stamp her feet and shout. How could he be so stubborn?

“You know why not,” he replied gently. “Just as you know why you’d never trade faeryland for the Real World.” He lifted himself
from the sofa and crushed his cigarette out on the floor. “Come on, we should find Christine and the others.”

Mayfridh was frozen to the spot, her mind suddenly aflame with possibilities. Did she know that she would never trade Ewigkreis
for the Real World? Did she know for sure?

Midnight. He only had to wait until midnight.

Mandy paced the boning room. Around once, twice, three times. The hag had arranged for Mayfridh to come to him; had given
him magic to lure her up here. Dreams were coming true.