The Last Ever After

  Sophie froze still.

  A white mouse was motoring past her shoe tip, a wooden stick in its mouth.

  It couldn’t be the traitorous mouse Lady Lesso had warned her about, for it wasn’t carrying a note or a key or anything useful to a spy. And yet, there was still something odd about the rodent, frantically weaving and skidding between boots, as if racing against a clock—and something even odder about the stick between its teeth, knobby, aged, and tapering to the top, as if it wasn’t a stick at all, but some kind of wand . . . a wand Sophie was quite sure she’d seen in this very school . . . But where? Wands were never used in classes or challenges and most teachers mocked them as archaic training wheels or remnants of fusty godmothers. So who at the School for Evil could possibly have use for a—

  Sophie yelped.

  Like a runaway bull, she barreled headfirst into the crush of bodies, chasing after the mouse. Wherever this little vermin was headed, toting Professor Clarissa Dovey’s wand, it was surely leading her right to the spy. Did Dovey’s wand have special powers? Is that how the spy planned to help Agatha and Tedros in? Was Professor Dovey the spy herself? But how, given Dovey was locked up somewhere with the Good teachers? Sophie didn’t have time to think—

  Bucking and flinging kids aside, she tracked the mouse down dark spiral stairs, almost losing sight of it, before her clacking heels woke a few sleeping fairies on the banister, who glowed angry green and lit up the mouse as it skittered into the foyer. Hoisting her dress, Sophie sprinted after it through the Supper Hall kitchen, where enchanted pots stewed sardines and cold cabbage; past the Laundry, where Beezle, the red-skinned dwarf, was singlehandedly trying to wash 240 uniforms (“Mama!” he screeched, drowning in bubbles); and into the enormous Gallery of Good, refurbished black and green, which instead of reflecting all of Good’s great victories, now depicted something else . . .

  Sophie slowed her pace, taking in the museum cases around her. The glass boxes, once filled with hero’s triumphant weapons and proof of dead villains flaunted new exhibits: Rapunzel’s severed hair, Tom Thumb’s clothes, Snow White’s crown, and seven dwarf-sized pairs of shoes . . . all splattered with blood.

  These weren’t trophies of obscure Evil victories from hundreds of years ago.

  These weren’t Finola the Fairy Eater, Children Noodle Soup, and Rabid Bear Rex.

  These were stories every Reader knew, only with the villains winning instead of the heroes.

  Sophie rolled her eyes at these clearly faked relics. First the murals in the hall and now the Gallery too? Rafal obviously couldn’t accept the real endings—

  Then she remembered something he’d said.

  “Endings can change, my queen. And change, they must.”

  Sophie shuddered, thinking of the way he’d grinned out at the School for Old . . . the strange roar from inside . . . the dark shadows on the rooftop . . .

  Had Rafal found a way to change the old fairy-tale endings?

  And was that way hidden in the other school?

  Sophie’s stomach dropped like a stone.

  She’d lost the mouse.

  Panicked, she ransacked every corner of the Gallery. No sign of it. She groaned, furious with herself. Her one chance to catch the spy and she’d botched it like a fool. She took a quick peek at her left hand, still tattooed with Tedros’ name. Shoulders slumping, cursing under her breath, she tromped out of the museum, late to her own class, spy still unfound, fully convinced her true love was going to kill her—

  Something caught her eye down the hall.

  A flit of white scampering towards the castle doors.

  Got you.

  Hurtling after the rodent like a castaway after a boat, Sophie blasted out of the Gallery, through the black-marble foyer, into the mirrored entrance hall (every mirror now cracked), and out the swan-frosted doors onto the Great Lawn, quite sure she was the first pretty girl in history to run towards a mouse rather than away from it—

  A wall of green smoke blinded her.

  Sophie shielded her eyes, but wind was blowing more green mist towards her, off the surface of the steaming, corrosive bay. Determined not to lose the mouse again, she hobbled down the hill, her suede stiletto boots snagging in dead, muddy grass as she scanned the ground, hoping the mouse had snagged somewhere too. But every time she thought she found it, it turned out to be a stray crog bone, which she punted in anger, until she skirted the shore of the lethal moat, looking left, then right, at a loss which way to go—

  A human shadow skulked towards her out of the fog.

  Sophie stumbled back.

  Aggie?

  Only it wasn’t one shadow.

  It was two.

  Aggie and . . . Teddy?

  “S-s-stay where you are!” she called out.

  The pair of shadows advanced faster.

  Sophie’s fingertip burned pink with terror. “Stop! Stop right there!”

  But the shadows were coming even faster now and Sophie held out her glow like a dagger, ready to stun them both as they broke through the mist—

  “Oh.” Sophie dropped her right hand, glow evaporating. “It’s you.”

  “Had to fetch the new students,” Hester puffed, looking winded.

  “School Master sent us to welcome them,” said Dot, panting beside her.

  “Since we’re the only ones that seem to like this school,” Anadil groused, coming out of the mist, trailed by two black rats, the third one flagging, looking wan and half-dead.

  “You might need another rat,” Sophie cracked, relieved her friends were acknowledging her again. She pressed her tattooed hand deeper into her pocket. “Listen, can we reconvene Book Club after lunch? I really need to talk to—wait a second. Did you say new students?”

  Over Hester’s shoulder, Sophie saw two more shadows breaking through the fog: a teenage boy and girl she’d never seen before, both wearing Evil’s black uniforms and equally black scowls.

  The boy resembled a malevolent penguin, with sickly pale skin, dark bulging eyes, sunken cheeks, and a hideous dome of black hair. He had scrawny thighs and calves, no muscle tone in his sticklike arms, and walked stiffly as if afraid something might fall out of his pants.

  The girl was broad-shouldered and golden tan, with glimmering blue eyes, a small button nose, and long black hair that was so harshly black it didn’t look her natural hue—as if it’d been dyed in a hurry by someone who didn’t understand the careful calculations of proper coloring, most certainly a man. Still Sophie found her pretty overall and for a moment felt threatened, until she noticed the girl’s thuggish, swaggery walk, like a troll in search of something to club.

  The new boy and new girl spotted Sophie and stopped short. Sophie saw their legs go shaky, their foreheads sweaty, and their mouths hold back huge smiles as if they wanted to hug her, touch her, or at least get an autograph.

  “Uh . . . they’re big fans of your storybook,” Hester mumbled, glaring at the gaping strangers.

  Good grief, that explains everything, Sophie sighed, suspicions melting away. She’d forgotten how famous her fairy tale was in the Woods. She must have adoring fans like these everywhere. For all she knew, thousands of obsessed admirers had tried to get into the school to be close to her and these were the first who succeeded.

  “Well, the School Master said nothing of this to me,” Sophie sniffed, at once flattered and in no mood to interact with common groupies when there was a spy to catch. “Surely he’d have at least mentioned their names—”

  “I’m Essa of Bloodbrook, Coldhearted Ever Killer, Sworn to Protect Evil,” the girl interjected, her voice high and thin, layered with the snootiest accent Sophie had ever heard. She clutched the boy’s hand. “And this is Edgar.”

  “I can introduce myself thank you,” the boy growled at her in a low tone and turned to Sophie. “I’m Edgar of Bloodbrook, Coldhearted Ever Killer, Also Sworn to Protect Evil.”

  Sophie peered at their joined hands. “Two Coldhearted Ever Killers . . . in lo
ve?”

  The boy and girl looked at each other, as if prepared for every question but this one.

  “Cousins. They’re cousins,” snapped Hester. “Part of Captain Hook’s family tree.”

  Edgar instantly let go of Essa’s hand. “We don’t like to talk about it.”

  “Private people,” Essa clipped.

  “Doesn’t make any sense,” Sophie said. “Since when does the School for Evil take new students?”

  “Weren’t old enough to be picked as Nevers the first go-round,” Anadil broke in.

  “Must be quite the Ever Killers if the School Master’s willing to bring them in now,” chimed Dot, snacking on a crog bone turned to fudge.

  Sophie noticed the cousins studying Rafal’s ring on her finger, seeming less like Ever Killers and more like jewel appraisers. She hid her hand. “Well, like I said, the School Master didn’t mention anything to me about new students, so I really should check with—”

  “Course he didn’t mention it to you,” scoffed Hester, marching past Sophie towards the castle. “Bringing in outside assassins . . . doesn’t want you to think he’s doubting your ability to kill Agatha and Tedros, does he?”

  “Since he’s your true love,” said Anadil, following Hester.

  “And it’s your job to kill them,” said Dot, following Anadil.

  Sophie bristled nervously and looked at the two strangers.

  “Death to Agatha!” Edgar blurted, raising a fist.

  “Death to Tedros!” squeaked Essa, fist up too.

  They hurried after the witches.

  As the two Ever Killers ran up the hill, Sophie felt her heart curdle with dread. From the day he put his ring on her, Rafal had never trusted her loyalty to Evil. Now he’d brought in two trained murderers to force her hand. Would Rafal make them kill her best friends if she wouldn’t? Would Rafal kill her? And how long could she possibly keep Tedros’ name hidden from him?

  Watching Edgar and Essa approach the castle, Sophie made a desperate wish to keep Agatha and Tedros away from this school . . . to stop them from trying to rescue her . . . to never see them again and save all of their lives . . .

  But as with most of Sophie’s wishes, this one had gone wrong, for without realizing it, she was watching Agatha and Tedros right now, darting into the castle.

  She hadn’t kept her friends out.

  She’d let them in.

  17

  Missions Impossible

  As soon as the three witches thrust Edgar and Essa into their smelly, burnt dorm room, Hester locked the door and scowled at Essa.

  “Tedros, you brain-dead cow! Why’d you grab Agatha’s hand! Almost gave yourselves away!”

  Tedros and Agatha were both bent over, slurping breaths. “Sophie! She’s . . . wearing . . . ring . . .” Agatha wheezed. “Almost hugged her—”

  “Should have taken your chance. No way we’re getting out of this place alive,” Tedros panted, glowering down at his shapely girl’s body. “Did you see the way those Everboys in the hall goggled at me?”

  “We saw our best friend again and we’re still in one piece. I’d call that success,” said Agatha, flopping boy limbs across a bed and knocking over a frame on the nightstand.

  “I’d call it suicide,” said Tedros, yanking at his shorts.

  “Calm down, princess. So many kids crammed into this castle that no one knows who’s who anymore,” sneered Hester, fixing the picture of her mother in front of a gingerbread house.

  “You’ll both be safe in our room until tonight,” Anadil added, watching two of her rats nuzzle the weak and exhausted third. “Though if ‘Essa’ talks any more in that horrible accent, I might slit her throat.”

  “It’s the only way I can keep my voice high!” Tedros fought.

  “Makes you sound like a milkmaid from Maidenvale,” said Dot airily, rummaging in the closet. “Daddy likes milkmaids. Kept one in our basement.”

  Everyone in the room looked at her.

  “Glad you find this funny,” Tedros spat, still clawing at his shorts. “Can’t even think in this stupid body! Whatever spell Merlin used to dye my hair is itching like mad, my backside won’t fit in my pants, my feet are too small, my legs are freezing, and I keep having to pee—”

  “At least one thing hasn’t changed,” mumbled Agatha.

  Tedros gave her a toxic look. “And who came up with those idiotic names! Edgar and Essa, as if we’re born with croquet mallets in our mouths, sipping tea in Malabar Hills.”

  “Names were my idea,” Dot blushed, pulling out of the closet, looking hurt. “Hester let me pick them, on the condition that I got fat again. Said if I was fat like first year and the three of us pretended to love this place, no one would suspect us being spies for Good. We had to help you, of course—first, Agatha’s our friend; second, Aric almost killed Hester and now he’s Dean; and third, we can’t just let the School Master turn the whole school Evil. No point being Evil if there’s no Good to fight, is there? What would we do all day? Eat popcorn and give ourselves pedicures? Besides, I figured if I help you rescue Sophie, maybe I can’t wear these now”—she held up her old skimpy blue bodice from the School for Girls—“but at least I’ll do something with my life and Daddy won’t call me a failure anymore,” Dot said, sniffling. “Spent all our classes trying to think of nice names for you and that’s why my ranks are low and I’m going to end up a plant, but Edgar sounds like Agatha if you say it with a lisp, and Essa rhymes with Tedros if you don’t think too much about it, and I thought you’d be proud of me for doing such a good job.” She blew her nose into the bodice.

  Hester, Anadil, and Agatha all glared at Tedros.

  “Put yourself in my shoes, Dot,” he said guiltily, itching his hair. “I’m Prince of Camelot, soon to be King if I don’t die first. I came back into the Woods with my princess to rescue our best friend and I didn’t sign up to do it as the girl, all right?”

  “As ‘the girl’? Is that what I am?” Agatha rocketed up in her string-bean body. “‘The Girl’?”

  “Hey now, all I’m saying is that if any of my friends ever saw me like this—”

  “Pretty sure they just saw you in the hall,” Agatha snarled, boiling with boy hormones. “Think Chaddick even winked at you.”

  Tedros looked like he’d been slapped.

  “There’s the old Agatha,” Hester smirked.

  “Back in the coven at last,” said Anadil.

  “Not as an official member, of course,” Dot snipped.

  Agatha splayed onto the mattress, stirring up soot. “Are boys angry and starving all the time? I could eat this pillow.”

  The pillow turned to chocolate.

  “And that is why I’m not an official member,” Agatha said as she bit into it, throwing Dot a grin.

  Tedros stared at his princess, now a ravenous, belligerent boy; at three Evil witches, still sniggering at his expense; at his long-tressed, soft-jawed, smooth-legged reflection in a glass picture frame . . .

  The prince burst into a sweat. “I can’t do this . . . I just can’t . . .” His fingertip started glowing hot gold. “I’m doing the counterspell and reversing the potion—”

  Agatha lurched up and grabbed him. “They’ll catch you the second you walk out this door! They’ll kill all of us!”

  “We’ve come this far, all right?” begged Hester, coaxing his girl body down to the bed.

  “It’s the only way, Tedros,” soothed Anadil, gripping his glowing finger.

  “Might even make you a better person,” Dot huffed, before adding under her breath: “Less dramatic, at least.”

  Tedros dumped his peachy cheeks into his hands and hunched over the bed. “We’re never going to make it! We’re never going to get Sophie out of here! I’ll never get back to Camelot, I’ll never get to be king, and I’m going to die as a girl!”

  Hester’s demon swelled red on her neck. “You sniveling, cock-brained, yellow-bellied imp! The four of us girls have spent our whole lives proving we??
?re more than girls and here you are acting like being a girl is a death sentence! Your whole life you’ve relied on your dimpled chin and moony eyes and washboard stomach to substitute for a soul. Well, now you’re one of us, Essa, and all of our lives are depending on you, so if you don’t stop whining and man up, you sorry excuse for a prince, I’ll send this demon right up your—”

  She saw Agatha shaking her head and stealthily blowing smoke letters off her own glowing fingertip: “MOTHER ISSUES.”

  Hester bit her lip. “Tedros. My friend,” she said, trying to sound sympathetic with mixed results. “I know this isn’t easy, but you’ve made it into this hellish school. That was the hardest part. Now we just need you and Agatha to finish the missions Merlin gave you.”

  “You have the whole day to figure out how you’re going to do it. In the meantime, Hester, Dot, and me better get back to class or Sophie’s going to suspect something,” said Anadil, shooting Hester a look.

  Hester kneeled to Tedros’ level and clasped his small, dainty fingers in hers. “We’ll leave you here with Agatha and be back after dinner. That’s when your missions start. Okay?”

  Tedros didn’t answer.

  Hester held up the tail of her shirt, revealing an ugly pink scar on her belly. “I took Aric’s knife to protect your princess. To protect your true love, Tedros. Now it’s your turn to prove what you’re made of.” She glanced up at Agatha’s gawky, penguinish boy. “Both of you. If we’re going to rescue Sophie and save our world, we need you to be a team.”

  Agatha and Tedros didn’t look at each other.

  “One smile, Edgar and Essa,” said Hester. “Please.”

  “Hester asking for a smile? World’s dying after all,” Dot chipped.

  Slowly Edgar and Essa made eye contact. They turned to Hester and conjured identical smiles.

  Hester slackened in relief. “Back soon, lovebirds. Use your time wisely,” she said, as her two roommates followed her out. “And try not to break any school rules if you know what I mean.”

  Agatha and Tedros held their smiles as the door closed and locked from the outside.