She stepped toward him. “Not even an ‘I told you so,’ eh? Not going to roll your eyes at the silly little princes hearing voices?”
He didn’t move.
“Marcus?”
The coldness of the stone beneath her feet crept up her legs and washed through her.
“Audrey? Is everything okay?”
“It’s Marcus. He seems frozen…like he’s gone back to normal stone again. You don’t suppose…”
~}~~~{~
Angel fought off tears, some part of her surprised how deeply she felt for a missing gargoyle she had never met. She sat down on the edge of her bed and laid the open book in her lap. “I’m sorry…it’s all my fault.”
“How can you say that? I’m the one who sent the paper through.”
“But if I hadn’t suggested the idea of traveling through the book…”
Angel heard a soft sigh, but wasn’t sure if it was Audrey’s or her own. It was followed by a knock on her bedroom door.
“Someone’s at my door, Audrey. I don’t want to close the book, though, so be quiet for a minute, okay?”
“All right.”
Angel set the open book down on the top of her dresser, and then walked over to the door.
Zack stood, arms tucked behind him. He blinked sleepy eyes. “Something weird just happened.”
“Weird? Like what?” Her heart pounded. Had he heard her talking to Audrey?
He bit his lip and eased through the doorway, turning sideways. He stepped around her as though he was trying to hide something behind his back. When he’d made it to the center of her room he said, “Close the door.”
She did, and turned to face him. “What’s up, little man?”
He pulled both arms forward, tentatively, and held out his hands. In his palm lay a three-inch tall resin figurine. A gargoyle. A souvenir from their trip to the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C.
It blinked.
“Zack, that just—” Her words caught as she involuntarily sucked in a gasp.
“I know! I couldn’t sleep, so I picked up Stony and was playing with him. I shined my flashlight on him, and he blinked. I thought I imagined it, but he did it again.”
Angel glanced at the book, then turned back to Zack and smiled, hoping her nervousness didn’t show through.
“Okay, let me have that…” She held out her hand.
He looked at her palm, then at the toy gargoyle, and back at her palm. The seconds he took to decide stretched far too long. Finally, he handed her the gargoyle.
She let out a breath. “Thank you. Now head on to bed.”
His eyebrows scrunched together. “But, Angel…”
“Sorry, little man. You need to get back to bed. I’ll figure this out.”
He nodded, then padded out of the room. Angel closed the door behind him. Locked it.
As she stepped over to the book, she whispered, “Audrey, did you hear that?”
“Only your voice, Angel. But I heard you say something about something being weird…and you called someone ‘little man.’ What’s going on?”
Angel picked up the book, then walked over and sat on the bed. She set the book in her lap and turned the gargoyle to face her. “That was my little brother. He found something odd. It’s one of his toys…a gargoyle, and it—”
“First of all, I’m not an ‘it’—I’m a he. And I’m most certainly no child’s toy.”
Angel gasped and nearly dropped the gargoyle. Her hands trembled as she set him back up in her palm.
“What’s happening?” Audrey’s voice cracked with fear.
“She can’t hear me,” the gargoyle said. “Just like you couldn’t hear me when I was over there. And I…couldn’t hear you. Would you please tell Mistress Audrey that I’m sorry I did not believe her?”
“Au-Audrey…” Angel swallowed. “I think it’s Marcus. He’s in Zack’s to—I mean, figurine. He says he’s sorry he didn’t believe you.”
~}~~~{~
Audrey stared at the stone gargoyle. She raised her hand slowly and stroked the rough surface. Lifeless. A tear ran down her cheek. She swiped it away. Why am I crying? He’s not gone—just misplaced. We’ll get him back.
“Can you tell him I’m sorry, too?”
Angel’s words came through muffled. “She says she’s sorry.”
Audrey spun around and began scanning the walls of the library. She stepped toward the section that held books on magic. “Tell him I’m going to find a way to reverse this!”
Angel’s words were even softer this time—Audrey couldn’t make out what she said. She turned, panic kick-starting her heart, and then realized she was hugging the book to her chest. She laid it on the desk and continued the search.
“He says to try the, um, the Book of Nazar.”
Audrey stopped scanning titles and scrunched her nose. “That dusty old thing? It’s just an ancient ledger. A census record. He told me so himself!”
~}~~~{~
“Oh, that girl!” the gargoyle—Marcus, Angel reminded herself—exclaimed.
Angel laughed at his exasperated expression. He narrowed his eyes at her.
“Repeat everything I say to her, word for word, please.”
Angel did as she was told.
“The book is not a ledger. I told you that to keep you away from it. Your father’s orders.”
“But my father has never even mentioned the book. And besides, I’ve opened it. It’s nothing but names and numbers.”
Marcus rolled his eyes. “It’s a spell. Honestly, if I were there I’d give that puffhead of a princess…Oh, no, don’t repeat that, Angel.”
Angel smiled. “Audrey, Marcus says it’s a spell.”
He continued and Angel repeated his explanation. “The book looks like a ledger because Marcus told you so. That’s how the spell works. He knew you’d go snooping—his words!—so he had your father protect the book. Marcus was the one who actually said the words, so he can be the one to reverse it if need be. If, say, your father wasn’t around.”
Angel tried to swallow the tightness forming in her throat. Thoughts spun around inside her head as the seriousness of the situation sank in. Audrey was a real princess, which meant her father was a real king. Marcus had been entrusted with something important by that king, and now they were forcing him into breaking that promise.
This wasn’t a game.
She refocused on Marcus’s words and relayed the rest to Audrey. “He says the Book of Nazar is a book of ancient magic. There’s something in there that will reverse what’s happened.” She left off the desperate sounding, “I hope,” Marcus had whispered at the end.
~}~~~{~
Audrey stepped in front of the Book of Nazar. It lay on its side, on a shelf right at eye level. Old, frayed, dusty. Harmless-looking. How could this possibly be anything other than a ledger? She ran her fingertip along the spine, and her skin tingled.
Odd.
She laid her hand flat on the front of the book. Her entire palm surged with prickling heat. It wasn’t painful, but she yanked her hand away. Energy like that meant power. And here it had been, all this time, right under her nose.
Audrey crossed her arms and huffed.
“Have you got the book?” Angel’s voice sounded tense. Audrey could only imagine what the girl was going through. There was no magic in Angel’s world, and here she was talking through a book…repeating the words spoken by a gargoyle stuck in a figurine.
Oh, Marcus!
Audrey snatched the book from the shelf, her palms buzzing as she opened the cover and stared at the first page. “Yes…yes, I have it. I can’t believe it’s not a ledger anymore! Now where do I look?”
“Marcus says to search the index in the back for words like ‘transport’ and ‘soul.’ Anything you think might relate to this.”
Audrey lifted her head. “You mean he doesn’t know where the spell is?”
A tingling like that in her hands appeared in the corners of her
eyes, and soon tears were spilling over her eyelids. She scooted into the chair behind the desk and laid the Book of Nazar in front of her.
~}~~~{~
Angel looked across the bed at Marcus. She’d set him on the book, which lay open in front of her footboard. “What do we do if she can’t find a spell in that book? Is there someplace else for her to look?”
Marcus’s eyes shadowed. Angel bit her lip. This little resin toy had taken on life, emotion. A very real, very scared someone was inside there.
“No…I don’t think so. The other books of magic in the castle are basic spells. Simple, everyday magic. Only the Book of Nazar would hold something powerful enough to reverse this. And this will need real power.”
Angel swallowed and tapped her finger against her leg. “But the book should have something in it, right?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Marcus said. “But…I’m hopeful. The book transformed despite the fact that my words were uttered through you, rather than directly by me. That tells me I’m still connected to our world.”
Angel felt a bud of hope form inside her chest.
She and Marcus sat in silence as they waited for Audrey. Mh-hmms emanated from the book now and then, and an occasional, “Urgh, stupid spell book.” Angel kept an ear keened, listening for sounds of family members stirring in the rest of the house. She half expected Zack to show up at her bedroom door again. At one point, she crept into the hallway and peeked into his room. His eyes were closed and his chest moved rhythmically.
Finally, after a solid hour, Audrey spoke. “Angel, Marcus…”
Angel sat forward from where she’d been leaning against her pillow, staring up at the slow-moving ceiling fan. She looked at Marcus, whose eyes fluttered open.
“Yes, we’re here,” Angel said.
“I…I think I’ve found a spell that will work. It’s rather complicated—a bit beyond what I’ve been taught by Mentor Armison, but I think I can figure it out…”
A silent pause followed, and Angel felt cold fingers trail her spine. Something about Audrey’s tone told her it was more than just the spell being complicated. She waited, holding her breath.
Marcus lowered his head. “Tell her to spit it out already.”
“Audrey, is there…is there something more?”
Angel heard a sniff and a muffled sob. “There’s a, um, side-effect of the spell. Actually, two side-effects.”
Marcus nodded, head still hung. “And those would be?”
Angel didn’t have a chance to repeat his words before Audrey continued. She sounded as if she were trying to shove the bad news all out at once.
“First, the connection will be broken, so we won’t be able to communicate through the books anymore, and second, you won’t remember anything about it.”
Ice slammed Angel’s chest. They’d only had this one night to use the books! And to not remember…
“You mean all of us, or just me?”
Another sob broke through the silence. “Just you, Angel, because you’re the only non-magical one.”
Angel’s eyes began to burn, and soon a tear trailed down her cheek. “Nothing at all? Like, I won’t just think it was a dream or something?”
“No…I’m sorry, nothing at all.”
~}~~~{~
Audrey crossed her arms on the desktop and laid her head down. Tears streamed from her eyes, fed by a swirl of emotion. She was happy to know Marcus would be coming back, but sad and angry over losing a friendship that had only just begun. Why did magic have to have so many rules that didn’t make sense?
She sat back up and wiped the tears from her face, then dried her hands on her skirt. “Very well, are you ready?” she asked, voice trembling, as she smoothed out the page with the spell’s words.
Angel’s voice came through, somber and thick. “I suppose I have no choice.” Audrey heard Angel inhale. “Goodbye, Marcus. Goodbye…Audrey.”
Audrey cleared her throat, and steeled herself by gripping the edge of the desk. She began to recite the words, focusing on the meaning of each as Mentor Armison had taught her. The phrasing and thought had to match just so, or the spell could go terribly wrong. As the last words slipped from her lips, she dug her nails into the wooden desktop.
Energy surged through the room, tingling Audrey’s skin and prickling the hairs on her scalp. It subsided, and a gravelly cough sounded to her right.
She glanced up. “Marcus?”
“In the flesh,” he said. The corner of his mouth lifted. “So to speak.”
Audrey jumped up and ran to him. She reached out and touched his cheek. “Oh, Marcus, I’m so sorry!”
He blinked at her and lowered his head.
“Angel?” she whispered, not expecting an answer…but her heart still sank when silence followed. She inhaled deeply. “I’m going to miss her.”
“Me, too, Mistress Audrey.”
~}~~~{~
Angel stared at the open book on her bed. She must have been reading and fallen asleep, but why was she sitting up? And why was Zack’s toy gargoyle sitting on the book? Was he playing a joke on her? She remembered the story had a gargoyle in it—maybe Zack had seen that.
Well, whatever. She sank back into her pillow and listened to the slowing rain drizzle against her window.
A soft knock sounded from her door, followed by Zack’s whisper. “Angel, are you awake?”
“Come on in,” she said and sat up again.
He walked into the room, pajama-clad, hair sticking out every which way, eyes searching. “There he is!” When he reached the foot of the bed he snatched up the toy gargoyle.
“You didn’t put him in here?”
“Um, uh…yeah…” He stepped back, his expression oddly nervous.
“Zack, what’s going on?”
“I don’t think I should tell you.”
“What?” Angel scooted forward and put both feet on the ground. “Fess up, little man.”
His blue eyes narrowed. “Do you remember somethin’ weird happening?”
“What? When?”
“Never mind. I’m goin’ back to bed.”
Angel reached out and gripped his arm. “What are you talking about? Tell me now.”
“Marcus told me not to tell you. You don’t remember, so I can’t say nothin’.”
“Marcus? He’s a character in that book you gave me. You must’ve had a dream about him.”
Zack nodded. “Yeah, okay. Can I go to bed now?”
Angel leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, then let go of his arm. “Okay, little man. No more weird dreams though.”
He held the toy gargoyle to his chest and scooted out the door. Angel could have sworn she heard him say, “Marcus, are you really gone?” She shook her head. Overactive imagination.
She turned and closed the book, then ran her hand across the cover. A tingling buzzed against her palm, and an image of Zack’s toy gargoyle blinking his little stone-like eyes flashed before her. And a distant voice, a young girl, whispered in her mind, “Just you, Angel, because you’re the only non-magical one.”
The tingling disappeared and Angel picked up the book. Something deep inside her screamed that the story inside was more than fiction. She lifted her gaze to her bookshelf and for the first time took notice that all of her books—every last one of them—contained stories about magic.
Why was she so drawn to it?
“Just you, Angel, because you’re the only non-magical one.”
She ran her hand over the leather, tracing the gold lettering.
“But I don’t want to be.”
~}~~~{~
Gizile’s eyes fluttered and closed. She jerked them open in time to see the vision of the red-haired girl shatter into a thousand pieces of ice. Was this the nature of stories? Did they have the power to become real? She opened her mouth to ask, but Master Tok cleared his throat and she forced herself straight.
“I’m sorry, Master.” She turned to look up at him and he thrust a piec
e of bread to her. Gizile took it and began to eat. This one had been the longest vision yet. She stood and stretched to ease the ache in the small of her back. The bread should have been stale, since none had been baked for hours, but somehow it tasted as if fresh from the oven. Its unexpected warmth slid down her throat and calmed her mumbling stomach. After stamping the stiffness from her legs, she settled back down, determined to keep wide awake…no matter how long the next vision might be. The small, heavy book in her pocket shifted, reminding her of its presence. She smiled and watched the incoming wave. The ice formed. And this time she saw not a princess…but a peasant girl.
~}~~~{~
Fettered Soul—Caprice Hokstad
A companion story to the novel The Duke’s Handmaid
Timmilina Hocar stepped outside the adobe shack she shared with her father, Gil. She’d finished all the chores and hoped to steal some time alone. Father was gone, no doubt drinking at The Pickled Squid tavern. She hurried through the cobbled streets toward the harbor.
The wharf bustled with activity in the late afternoon. Normally, she loved to walk among the fishermen to see who might let her clean their nets for the sea-reeds to make baskets from. Sometimes, they’d toss her some junk fish, too mangled or scrawny for the marketplace, as a bonus. Today, however, she needed solitude. She passed the wharf and headed to the beach.
The sand was crowded with children. Little lords dug for sand crabs while little ladies sculpted dream castles. Every now and then, a lad with a wiggly crustacean would employ the tiny monster to drive the girls to squeal and abandon their castles, chased until the lad’s mother or nanny caught up to him.
Timmilina hurried to the rock jetty. Waves surged against the boulders, calming her with their stolid attention to ageless rhythms. Sea-breath sprayed over her face. She inhaled deeply of the fresh, salty breeze, glad to be upwind of the fishing boats.
With stones wet and slippery from sea moss, she didn’t trust her slick leather soles. Besides, the sand in her shoes was irritating. She eased off her sandals and navigated the jetty with care.
When cawing seagulls and pounding surf muffled the sounds of carefree playing, Timmilina sat. She pulled her skirts up and dangled her feet in the lapping tide.