Gunthreon crawls over next to me, energy leaking from him. “I didn’t have time to react and shelter you from that. I’m sorry,” he whispers. “The meeples are very strong creatures, so just don’t let the thoughts linger. Think of what is good in your life.”
“How do you stop thoughts like that?” I blubber. “I suddenly hate myself.” I see my distorted reflection from a mirror on the wall and must fight myself to like what I see, but the faint sound of Bu whimpering pulls me out of my downward spiral.
Philip crawls over and wipes my eyes quickly, for the tears are brightening our dark corner of shelter, making the armor
’s shadows dance around the room. “Please know that I see before me a strong, beautiful, courageous woman,” he says as he gently wipes the last of my tears, “who nobody could deny loving.” His lips meet my cheek and I redden in embarrassment as he turns and moves toward Gunthreon.
Gunthreon peeks around the armor and motions for us to start moving. We rise and enter the doorway slowly and cross the threshold of a large room of what I guess is torture equipment. I catch sight of a giant pinwheel, ce
ntered with an arrow, which resembles a carnival game. It looks as though it’s supposed to be spun, the prizes indicated by multi-colored pie sections labeled with various body parts.
One greble with his back to us sharpens a hot fireplace poker in a fire pit, and another, smaller greble—Bu—hunches over
on a bench made of what I think is some sort of reptile skin, facing away from us. The larger greble spins the wheel then turns to walk toward the bench. He turns back to look at the wheel as it lands on an ear, and he laughs, while grabbing a hold of Bu’s neck, forcing his head back.
We each sneak closer, huddling behind various pieces of equipment. I make it within feet of the larger greble’s back.
“I’m gonna make you pay for what you did,” grumbles the greble, oblivious of the sudden infiltration around him. “Why risk your life for that scrawny piece of dirt? She’s nothing.” The poker starts to sizzle Bu’s ear, and that’s when his necklace and locket fall from his hand to the ground.
Something dangerous inside me stirs, and I do not care that this greble towers feet over me, and outweighs me by hundreds of pounds. I lunge at it and jump on its back. It’s so massive that I cannot even grab onto it, and I end up just sliding back down over its rear.
Before I can get up and do any real damage, I see that Gunthreon has jumped out in front of the greble and is speaking to him, persuading him that what he’s doing is not right—coaxing him to sit and think things over. The greble drops the poker and turns around, sitting compliantly on a chair. I don’t trust it, so I eye the massive greble as I walk backward, until I bump into Bu.
I turn around to face him, and see what I couldn
’t before—that his mouth has been filled with dirty rags and sewn shut and his tear ducts have apparently been cauterized. The hurt in his eyes is so awful that I vow to continue on this quest, no matter where it brings me. Nobody should be subjected to this sort of mistreatment.
Torturous mistreatment.
No woman,
or even greble.
Philip pulls a small, razor-sharp knife from his pocket and starts cutting the rope used to bind Bu’s mouth.
“Bu tried. They are so quick,” whimpers Bu. “Bu did bleed one, though!” I see the slashes and deep cuts all along Bu’s body, and his rightmost leg is definitely broken. “He was mad at Bu, and said bad things about Kailey, so Bu pulled his ear almost off!” He looks to me for approval, but there is already a loss of innocence in him. I can feel the difference.
“Bu, you are so brave for sticking up for me,” I say, “but you put yourself in grave danger. That makes me sad. I would be really happy if you gave up this fight and came back home with me now.”
“But Kailey,
this
is my home.”
I realize he’s right, but I don’t want him to stay here any longer. Philip begins healing Bu as we talk. I am amazed as I watch the cuts close and the leg reform to its original shape.
Gunthreon has the torturer painting a mural with oils and waxes. A lovely rendering of a bumblebee and daisy appear on the wall before us.
Then
Gunthreon walks to Bu and holds his hand. “Bu, you can come stay with me until things quiet down here,” says Gunthreon. “We can bake cupcakes and sing songs and watch
The Wizard of Oz
if you want. I know it’s your favorite. But we must go now.”
Bu perks up a bit, but sadly I fear this world is going to swallow him up as it did his mother.
“We have to leave this building,” Philip comments, quietly. “It has a protection spell on it. We cannot transport ourselves unless we’re outside the walls.”
Philip has Bu fully mended and able to walk, so Bu lifts me up and carries me to the door as quickly as we can all move, but not before kicking the newly inspired artist greble in the back, and grabbing his fanny pack on a nearby table. Not even noticing the jab, the greble continues with its masterpiece.
Just as Gunthreon reaches for the door handle, the door opens. “Oh, and keep him conscious enough for me to—” The meeple with the crooked ear stands in the door with its mouth still open, quickly scanning who stands before it. First, its eyes lock on Gunthreon, then Philip, then move to the beautiful mural, and finally turn back to the door. The meeple shoves something in its ears and runs full speed back out the door.
Both Gunthreon and Philip run in chase, along with Kioto. Bu runs with me in his arms. I am once again amazed at his grace and speed while running.
“He has closed his ears. I’m powerless. It’s up to you,” explains Gunthreon as Philip takes the lead. The meeple runs through a darkened doorway. We stop at the entrance and try to see in, but it’s pitch black.
“Bu—you,
Kailey, and Kioto stay here,” advises Gunthreon. “If something happens, make some noise.” With that, Gunthreon and Philip enter the darkened room.
I can
’t stand the silence. After a minute, I coax Bu into entering. Within seconds, I hear sounds of fighting, but I can’t see anything. Bu falls and drops me, disappearing from sight, leaving me holding the rags he’d had in his mouth. Kioto barks frantically. Gunthreon makes some “oomph” noise, and Philip is silent.
“You
idiots!” grunts the meeple. “How dare you enter our house and save that miserable good-for-nothing.”
“Kailey, plug your ears!” It’s Philip, warning me. I take the rags from Bu
’s mouth and rip them, shoving some small pieces in my ears. I’m now blind
and
deaf.
Crawling along the floor, I search with my hands for Bu. I find him and grab him as tightly as my hands allow. I hear loud clanging and fighting. Bu moves away from me and makes whimpering noises. Philip has fixed his tear ducts, so the tears start lighting the room
in flashes, just in time for me to see Gunthreon crawling toward me.
I hear his voice over the ruckus and the rags in my ears: “Use its energy, Kailey!
Now
!” Both his hands appear bloody and broken.
His voice awakens my brain, and I reach
from both within and beyond. I feel for the meeple’s energy, but once I touch it, it’s so repulsive I can’t keep my grasp.
“Kailey, do something!” shouts Gunthreon. As the meeple approaches me,
then disappears in the dark, I think of my weapon and reach behind me. I’m so stunned to feel the wood on my back that I freeze, and that’s when the blow from behind knocks me into the wall. I drop the monk’s spade, visible now, and it slides across the floor. The meeple stands over me, breathing in my face, its eyes full of hate—hate eager to shred me up like tissue paper. I feel its talon cutting my neck very slowly, and the familiar feeling of warm blood dripping my neck is all too personal.
It holds me down with its weight and grins as the broken bottle slices my neck, slowly spilling type AB down my neck and onto my crisp white shirt. I cry at the warmth, knowing these may be my last breaths.
This can’t happen again, I won’t allow it.
My anger explodes, and my hand dives into my pocket, grabbing my broken pendulum. I shove the sharp, pointy end right into the meeple’s eye. It screams as it backs up slowly, and that’s my break. I jump up as fast as my body will let me and grab my monk’s spade off the floor. The weapon feels comforting in my hands, and for a brief moment, I am the stronger of us. I see defeat in the meeple’s eyes, and in one long swoop, I slice its head off, showering the room with blood.
I take the rags from my ears as I stand, staring at the mess as Bu continues crying.
“You did it, Kailey. Are
you okay?” Gunthreon asks as Philip stands over him, fixing his hands with a simple touch.
“This sucks. I think I
’m going to throw up,” I confess as I bend over, dry-heaving. “I’m never watching Bugs Bunny again,
ever
.” Fatigue overtakes me, and I sit beside Bu. Thanks to the remains of Bu’s tears, I see that Kioto’s collar is attached to a statue, and Bu says he didn’t want to see Kioto get hurt.
“Gunth, I think my pendulum is lost forever,” I say.
“Karma wills what she wills,” he says as he comes and hugs me with his mended hands.
“Let’s move it,
” says Philip.
No need to tell me twice.
We all hike it to the entrance and barely make it out the door before a powerful clamor emerges from inside. I freeze. The ceetchans are still waiting for us outside, hovering near the doors, chattering to themselves nervously.
Gunthreon grabs my hand and drags me out of the shadow of the tower and into the sunlight, and as I turn around, I see throngs of grebles, filing out in army mode, with a tall man in a hooded cloak following behind. Instantly, the ceetchans start attacking the grebles’ feet. Behind them, I see the robed man staring at me, at precisely the same time I feel a dark and menacing wave of energy approaching me. His eyes are questioning for a brief moment, and I turn to Gunthreon, whose eyes are already fixated on the figure.
“Devoten,” he says.
Instantly, we
’re thrown into my apartment, and I run to the window. Gunthreon sees my distress. “They won’t follow,” he says, “so we’re safe for now. They will not all enter this realm at once. At least, we hope.”
I throw myself on my co
uch and scream into the pillows—one long, continuous, eardrum-blasting scream.
Chapter 16
Odd
Morning comes all too quickly, and I wake up with the worst sore throat I have ever experienced. I reach for pain pills, but end up placing them back on the shelf, knowing that it won
’t help me.
Last night, as I freaked out over what had just happened, my friends agreed to a sleepover. This morning, I find them dispersed throughout my apartment on makeshift beds: couch cushion mattresses, pillows made of folded sheets, and Bu is lying on several bath towels—he didn
’t want to dirty my carpet. Philip even stayed, claiming Karen worked nights, and she wouldn’t even know he was gone.
Everyone looks haggard and exhausted, so I decide to cook breakfast for everyone, considering I definitely have enough to feed an army—maybe even enough for a greble-sized appetite.
I call off work, and as I rummage through my pantry, both Gunthreon and Philip convince Bu that a shower will not melt him, and he takes a special liking to the yellow rubber duck I keep in the bath. His body stays hunched because of his size, but he does very well cleaning himself up. He even lets me spray him with some Coconut Dream body spray. It takes three towels to dry him, and he still stinks, but it’s much more tolerable. The idea of hanging a tree-shaped car freshener around his neck is tempting.
I open my fridge,
grabbing the bacon, and notice it feels a bit warmer than it should be and make a mental note to call my landlord. After a dozen eggs benedicts (Bu loved them), the pound of bacon, some chocolate-glazed donuts, three dog biscuits and some strong coffee—and tea—we all feel a bit human again—well, except of course for Bu, who rummages through my pantry, looking for something else to eat. (Another note to self: Check Bu’s pockets before he leaves. I see him eyeing my last three Oreos.)
“Thanks for staying last night,” I say to the three of them. “I get chicken when I
’m alone sometimes.” I grab my throat and wince from the pain. Gunthreon and Philip exchange a glance, and then Philip lays his hands gently on my throat, and closes his eyes. The pain immediately disappears and I think back to the meeple and the decapitation, which
I
inflicted. “I did this to myself, didn’t I?”
Philip nods. He stands and kisses me on my head and says, “
You
are a gentle soul, but unfortunately, karma is a boastful bitch.”
“That sucks,” I say.
“It was unavoidable. Don
’t be discouraged, Kailey,” says Philip. “Truth be told, you will undoubtedly feel that your power is fickle, but karma has its own plan. Times like these are just...setbacks.” He smiles sympathetically at me.
“Well, good thing I have you,
” I state, shyly.
With a deep sigh, Gunthreon add
s, “I have a feeling that yesterday was not the worst of it.”
“So gloom and doom, as always.” Philip picks at the last piece of bacon. “I’m going home to sleep in my own bed, under my
Transformers
sheets,” he adds with a sassy smile, “before my mom discovers I’m missing. I’ll see you all later. Kailey, if you need me, just yelp.” He leaves, and I hear his own door open and close.
“Are you sure you
’ll be fine today by yourself?” asks Gunthreon. “I can have my driver come and give you a ride to my place.” I can see Gunthreon is really worried about me.
“Thanks, G
, but I’ll be okay, I think,” I say.
“Next lesson is meditation,” he says.
“You could ask your mother for pointers, too. She relies on it heavily, since she cannot take any pain medications. Come see me this weekend. Until next time.”
He leaves with a bow. As I peek out the window, I see his driver ready and waiting.
Strange. He never made any calls.
*********
“Let me guess. You’re still ‘sick.’” Amber can’t hide the sarcasm.
“I need to see you sometime soon, just to talk and stuff,” I say. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Well, since you asked, Russell and I are going out to eat tonight, and we were thinking of asking some people to go with us.”
“Don’t you ever cook dinner, Amber?” This is rhetorical on my part.
“Why should I, when so many other people are perfecting it? I just got a manicure anyway. I’d hate to chip one of these beauties washing dishes.” I picture her staring at her French-manicured nails and roll my eyes for my own sake.
“You do the cooking,” I say, “and w
hat do you think Russell is for? The washing!”
“Oh, girlfriend, Russell is for plenty more than that.” She giggles that naughty laugh of hers. “We were planning on Italian. Does that sound good to you, or were you planning on whipping up some eggplant parmesan and tiramisu for yourself tonight?”
A beautiful plate of spinach and ricotta ravioli bathing in a sage brown butter sauce appears before my eyes, and I feel myself salivating. “Okay, I’ll take the plunge. Just know it may be the ugliest dive you’ve ever seen. Who else is going?”
“Oh, how about I surprise you? Let
’s just say it’s a friend of Russell’s from the recreation center. They run together, or something stupid like that.” She’s smiling. Fear of the unknown creeps upon me, but I gather courage. After cutting off a meeple’s head, I can do a fix-up, a la Amber.
“What have I got to lose? Okay, hook me up. Guess I need some kind of action, right?” She has absolutely no idea the kind of “action” I’ve had lately.
“Wow,” Amber stammers, evidently surprised by my reaction. “We’ll come pick you up about six.” The phone clicks without a goodbye, and I realize she didn’t want me wiggling out of this one somehow.
With a couple of hours yet before the love couple arrives, I decide to take Kioto for a quick walk. She loves watching the squirrels romp around on the many maple trees at the park, so that’s where we
’ll head. I show Kioto her leash and immediately, her tail starts wagging. “Walk?” I say to her. She barks one loud “Hell yes” at me and we walk out my apartment door.
She stretches out her legs, her head scanning everywhere, looking for those sly squirrels. As we get closer, I see a recognizable figure standing amongst the kids at the playground. I decide to walk along a trail of nearby trees so I’m not noticed.
“You are so weird! Why don’t you just play like everyone else?” squawks a small-framed girl with black ponytails and a Hello Kitty T-shirt, standing hands-on-hips, facing Philip.
“Maybe if you would actually think before you start running around like chickens with no plan of action, I could help formulate a wonderful strategy,” says Philip, aggravated. I hope he doesn’t do something stupid.
“Weirdo!” The girl storms away toward her mother, and Philip turns to me. I wander on over to him.
He looks especially forlorn, and it’s not pretty on him. “I don’t think this whole seven-year-old thing is doing you any good,” I say as I look to the girl and her mother. “Karen at home?”
His eyes agree with me before he even speaks. “I think I am finally bored of this seven-year-old life, especially when most are so absentminded and
cannot even focus
!” He says this last part loudly toward the little black-haired bully.
“Ladimer, you have so much to offer, but it’s not for grade school.” I smile at him.
“Thanks.” He slowly slips his hand in mine, fitting perfectly, as we walk home together in silence.