Alistair Grim's Odd Aquaticum (33 page)

“Steady, lad, I’ve got him in my sights,” said Mrs. Pinch. The notes continued rising and falling—my fingers racing, my eyes locked on the demon in the submarine’s engine.
Got you now, you devils,
I said to myself. But then, at the precise moment I was certain Mrs. Pinch would fire, Wortley’s shark sank beneath the churning water and disappeared from view.

I inhaled sharply and snatched back my fingers from the organ. The Odditorium lurched to a stop, and the river below became smooth and silvery again as if nothing had happened. “No,” I moaned, unable to believe my eyes, but there was no denying it. Abel Wortley was gone.

“We’ve lost him,” Lord Dreary said quietly from the talkback. My heart sank and I buried my face in my hands. If only I had played better, Abel Wortley might not have gotten away.
But he
did
get away,
said a voice in my head.
And with the transmutation dagger, at that.
My throat grew thick as the tears began to rise. Alistair Grim’s plan had failed—and it was all my fault.

“I’m sorry, Father,” I whispered. “I let you down.”

Then, all at once, it seemed, there were shouts coming from every direction, more police whistles, and people crying, “The Odditorium!” and, “Get them!” My stomach squeezed and my tears subsided. At the same time, Cleona dropped back down through the ceiling and onto the balcony beside me.

“You’ve got to turn on the invisibility mist,” she said, and I immediately flicked the switch on the organ to activate it. But nothing happened. I flicked the switch again and again, but still, the invisibility mist would not turn on.

“It must have run out,” I said.

“It’s the lightning cannons,” Father said, startling me, and I looked up to find him and the others hovering in the demon buggy outside. “They must have short-circuited both the prison sphere’s induction unit and the organ damper.”

“Pshaw, even the most amateur of inventors would’ve anticipated that,” Cleona said sarcastically.

“All right, then, everyone out,” Father said, and the others scrambled from the buggy and onto the balcony. “Nigel, get down to the engine room and see if you can’t get the invisibility mist working again. Gwendolyn and Cleona, to your stations; Kiyoko, you stay with Grubb. We’ve got a mob on our hands, so let me dock the demon buggy and I’ll fly us out of here.”

As everyone scattered to his or her place, Kiyoko put her arm around me and I gazed out guiltily at Father. “That shark, sir,” I said. “I tried to stop it, but—”

“It’s not your fault” was all Father said, but his eyes spoke volumes. Abel Wortley had the transmutation dagger, and the thought of it terrified him.

A chill ran up my spine, but before I could ask Father what had happened, he zoomed off to dock the demon buggy. The samurai took up defensive positions on the balcony, while Kiyoko led me into the library and handed me McClintock. The old pocket watch was snoring up a storm.

“We tried using his time stopper a second time,” Kiyoko said. “But it only seemed to tire him further.”

I tapped Mack on his XII to wake him, but the poor fellow just muttered some gibberish and went right on snoring. I slipped him into my waistcoat.

“What happened?” I asked. “And who was that in the prince’s armor?”

“It wasn’t the prince’s armor,” Kiyoko said. “Similar, yes, but not fortified with black magic. And inside was your old friend Judge Hurst.” I gasped. “Your father saw him only for an instant, and then his body vanished—disintegrated by Excalibur, along with the rest of Nightshade’s minions.”

My head was swimming. Judge Hurst? Why Judge Hurst? Last I’d seen of him, he’d just been turned into a purple-eyed Shadesman. So what was he doing in London dressed like the prince?

Just then a scuffle broke out on the balcony, and in a matter of seconds the samurai were ripped to pieces—their armor flying into the library as if they’d been blown apart from the inside. Kiyoko and I ducked for cover behind Father’s desk, and when we looked again, there on the balcony, with the transmutation dagger in his mouth, was Prince Nightshade!

“EEEEYA!”
Kiyoko cried, and in a blur of whirling black she flew at him with Ikari. She brought the sword down hard, but it was no match for the Black Knight’s armor. And with a single swipe of his massive arm, the prince knocked Kiyoko clear across the room, where she slammed against a bookcase and crumpled limply to the floor.

“Kiyoko!” I cried, rushing to her side. The prince had bashed her out cold—or worse!

Prince Nightshade chuckled and removed the transmutation dagger from his mouth. He appeared to still have some use of the arm below his wounded shoulder, but the gash where Malmuirie had struck him with Excalibur was red and smoking.

“We meet again, young Grubb,” he said, gazing about the room. His voice sounded weak, and he was panting. “Inside the Odditorium at last, where the doom dogs cannot save you.”

“You devil!” I screamed, cradling Kiyoko’s head. I was on the verge of hysterics, unable to tell if she was breathing.

“Sentimental fool,” the prince sneered. “Just like your father.”

At that moment someone called to him from outside. “Is everything all right, Your Highness?”

My breath hitched. I recognized the voice immediately—it was Mr. Smears. He must have helped Wortley escape in his mechanical shark and then the two of them circled back underwater, unseen by Father and the others, whereupon Wortley climbed up the side of the Odditorium and onto the balcony.

“Hold tight, Smears!” the prince called back, and then he turned to me and smiled. “A man after my own heart, your old master. Pity, though, he didn’t finish you off years ago. Would’ve saved me so much trouble.”

The prince’s eyes flashed and he raised his dagger. Without thinking, I ran for the parlor door. Nightshade blocked my path, so I turned on my heels and made for the balcony—I would take my chances in the river, I thought—but as I went to leap over the balustrade, I found Mr. Smears gazing up at me from his mechanical shark down below. I froze, giving the prince just enough time to clamp his hand down on my collar.

“Leaving so soon?” he said, dragging me into the library. He lifted me off my feet with his good arm and turned me round to face him. The transmutation dagger was in his other hand, and as he strained to raise the blade to my throat, the glowing red features of his face twisted with pain.

“I don’t think you’ll ever realize how much trouble you’ve caused me,” he said, out of breath. “Nevertheless, do give your parents my regards when you see them in the Land of the Dead.”

“Let him go, Wortley!” Father shouted, and we spun round to find him standing in the parlor entrance with Excalibur.

The prince gasped and pulled me close. A long, tense second passed in which all I could hear was the mob outside along the riverbank, and then the prince laughed and, with noticeable effort, raised the dagger again to my throat.

“Well played, Alistair Grim,” he said. “I knew something was amiss when everyone in Scotland Yard just froze as if time had suddenly stood still.” Father stiffened and set his jaw. “Oh dear. Yes, I’m afraid whatever magic you used to make that happen had no effect on me. My armor again, don’t you know. So I do owe you a bit of gratitude for making my business here much less arduous.”

“That body double of yours on the wharf,” Father said. “You wanted to frame Judge Hurst for your crimes, is that it?”

“Well, when you’ve got a purple-eyed Shadesman lying about, you might as well use him.”

“Just as you used William Stout?”

The prince chuckled, and suddenly I understood. Abel Wortley had not only planned on using Judge Hurst and the others to distract the authorities while he escaped, but he was also
hoping
for the judge to get caught. That way he could frame him for all his crimes, while at the same time throwing the
rest of us
off his trail!

“You got what you came for, now let the boy go,” Father said. “You’re weak and need to use that transmutation dagger.”

“An excellent deduction,” said the prince. “But you know very well you’d never have figured out all this transmutation business had I not told you my true identity. Then again, who knows? It appears I’ve underestimated you for quite some time now. Your strategy is quite impressive—I see it all so clearly now. Allowing yourself to be killed in Avalon? Only to be resurrected by Excalibur and return to London invisible? Well, not even I would have expected such a move. Brilliant, man! Simply brilliant!”

“There’s more to this game, I assure you,” Father said, inching his way into the library. The prince, afraid of Excalibur, pressed the dagger to my throat and backed away with me toward the hearth.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Number One buzz past the balcony. She had returned from the prince’s castle. But where were the Gallownog and Professor Bricklewick?

“Aren’t we confident now that we’ve got the big bad sword,” said the prince. “And yet, Excalibur or not, if you take one more step your son will feel the wrath of a very different kind of blade.”

Father stopped and lowered his sword. “Tell me, Wortley, why this obsession with my son? If I didn’t know you better, I’d swear you were afraid of him.”

The prince laughed. “Oh, Alistair. However clearly you see the future, you are still so blind to the past. Nevertheless, your arrival in London with Excalibur has thrown a wrench in my works, and so it appears I’ll have to change my plans.”

“Hurry, Your Highness!” Mr. Smears called up from outside. “There’s a regular mob gathering round here!”

“Very well, then,” said the prince. “As much I’d love to kill you now, I’ll have to save it for some other time—must find another solphylax, as I’m sure you’ve guessed. And please don’t try any tricks, or your son here gets it.”

Father cocked his ear as if someone had whispered to him and his eyes flickered.

“And just where do you plan on going, Wortley?” he asked with a sly grin. “The demons in your castle’s flight sphere have been disposed of by Professor Bricklewick. Thus, whatever Odditoria you were planning on using to house your spirit will soon be incinerated when your castle crashes into the marshes outside of London.”

“Nice bluff,” the prince said, and then a distant rumbling explosion shook the walls. Father slipped his pocket watch from his waistcoat and checked the time.

“Ah, right on schedule,” he said, snapping it shut. “For you see, while you were busy pinching the transmutation dagger, our old friend Oscar Bricklewick was busy snatching up your demons. What you just heard was your Eye of Mars exploding under the weight of your crumbling castle.”

“You’re lying,” said the prince, but I could feel him tensing behind me.

“I assure you, I’m not,” Father said. “After all, being an expert on Odditoria, I should think you of all people would recognize a demon catcher when you saw one. Go ahead, Oscar, show him.”

Oscar?
I said to myself, and then a nervous Professor Bricklewick materialized next to Father with the demon catcher clutched tightly to his breast. Prince Nightshade gasped. It must have appeared to him as if the professor had blossomed out of thin air, but of course I knew that Lorcan Dalach had simply released him from his spirit shackles, which meant that the Gallownog was here in the library with us too.

Everything next happened so fast that it seemed over before it began. Professor Bricklewick unlatched the demon catcher, and while the prince was distracted, Lorcan Dalach materialized directly in front of us and pulled me from the prince’s grasp. At the same time, Father rushed the prince with Excalibur, and in a whirl of flashing steel, thrust the sword deep into his chest. Prince Nightshade howled in pain, then stumbled backward and slumped down heavily against the hearth.

“I’m afraid it’s checkmate, Wortley,” Father said, yanking his sword free. The prince clawed at his chest, and the gash in his armor sparked and smoked through his fingers. “Your castle home is in ruins, your armor destroyed. There’s nowhere left for your spirit now except the pits of hell.”

The prince’s glowing red eyes darted frantically about the room until they found me. I was far away from him now, behind Father’s desk with Dalach and the professor, but still I trembled under the terror of his gaze.

“It’s all for the best, Grubb,” he said, and the jagged gash of his mouth parted into a smile. “Heaven forbid you should ever grow up to be as big a fool as your father.”

And with that Prince Nightshade uttered a strange incantation and plunged the transmutation dagger into his chest wound. The blade sparkled and flashed, and then a stream of red liquid light flowed upward from the pommel and into the lion’s mouth above the mantel. The prince twitched and jerked about, and then the stream of light vanished and his armor lay lifeless on the floor.

“Oh no,” gasped Professor Bricklewick. “The Odditorium—it’s the perfect solphylax in which to house his spirit!”

Suddenly, the blue animus exploded out from the sconces with a
whoosh
, and in its place burned a bright red fire. Laughter echoed from the walls, and the lion’s mouth began to move, began to
speak
with the voice of Abel Wortley!