(advent) December 22

Monday, December 22

Molly paused outside the back door to the book store and took a deep breath. The cold, salty air felt wonderful against her flushed cheeks – she’d been cooking bread for the week, and the kitchen was very, very warm. She tossed the bag of trash into the dumpster and leaned back against the door, enjoying a moment alone. Pavel and Jack hadn’t let up their guard, but she really felt at this point that it was unnecessary.

“After all,” she said out loud, looking around. “Look at this place. It’s cold. There’s snow forecast for Christmas Eve. Caliban is gone.”

“That’s what you were meant to think,” a voice sneered in her ear, and Molly barely had time to process the sentence before someone grabbed her and shoved a sweet-smelling rag over her mouth and nose. As her consciousness dimmed, she struggled, but whoever it was had an iron grasp.

Schrodinger! her mind screamed. Schrodinger, help me!

And then there was blackness.

<><>

Schrodinger’s head jerked up. He’d been snoozing next to the pot-bellied iron stove in the tea room, listening to Goldie read The Christmas Carol, the smell of freshly-baked bread tickling his nose. Then something had rocketed through his head, a voice filled with fear, and jolted him awake.

“Schrodinger? What’s wrong?” Goldie said, looking up from the book in concern.

I don’t— His head rang, and another scream raced through his head. Molly!

He jumped up and ran through the kitchen, the pirate hot on his heels. Molly needs help! he shouted, as he shouldered open the back door and burst into the alley. She was here!

“She’s not here now,” Goldie said, looking around. “But something’s not right here.”

Schrodinger lifted his head and sniffed. There was an odd sweet smell, not a food, but something else, that drifted on the cold air, fading along with the scent of Molly’s perfume. Molly was out here, and she called for me, he said. And now she’s not here.

“No, she’s not.” Goldie continued to look around, and there was an odd tone in his voice. “Come on, let’s go look inside.”

She would have had to go past us to go anywhere but the kitchen, and the kitchen was empty, Schrodinger told him.

“I know. Humor me.” Goldie led him back out into the tea room, and then upstairs. No Molly. They went over the entire building, but the kitchen witch was no where to be found. By now, Schrodinger was frantic.

She’s been kidnapped, Goldie! We have to find her!

“We will,” the pirate soothed him, pulling out a cell phone and dialing. “We definitely will.”

By the time Pavel and Jack got there, Drew had arrived and was trying to keep Schrodinger from going off on his own. “What happened?” Pavel demanded.

“I think Caliban took Molly,” Goldie admitted. “Schrodinger heard her call out to him, but we couldn’t find her.”

“We caught an unauthorized Gate opening about the same time that Molly went missing,” Drew said, his voice almost unnaturally calm. His hands on Schrodinger were gentle, soothing the CrossCat, but his jaw was tight. “Which means they had a portable Gate transmitter.”

“Which sounds like Caliban,” Jack said bitterly. “He wouldn’t come himself, but he’d send his lackeys with illegal technology to do his dirty work.”

“But why?” Drew said. “Why take Molly?” His voice broke on the last word, and he buried his face in Schrodinger’s fur. The CrossCat leaned up against him, sharing his misery.

“Because he knows Jade will do anything to get her back,” Jack said. “If it’s one thing Caliban is good at, it’s reading other people’s weaknesses.” He looked over at Pavel. “He’ll send a message. You know he will.”

The pirate nodded. “Do you think he will come here?”

“Probably. He can’t go to the castle, and he knows we’ll all come here.” Jack looked over at Drew and Schrodinger, pain and resolve on his pale face. “We’ll wait until he does. Send someone to the castle to ask Jade to come here, please.”

<><>

The darkness faded into dim light, and Molly raised her head from a soft pillow, her thoughts fuzzy. There was a horrible taste in her mouth, and a dull, pounding pain in her temples. As she sat up slowly, she realized that she was in a soft bed, with dark curtains drawn closed. She looked around the bed, but the light was too subdued to see much: just pillows, blankets and the curtains. Steeling herself, Molly reached out and pushed aside the curtain nearest to her.

“So, she wakes.” The voice was calm, cool, slightly sardonic, and altogether too familiar. Molly groaned and turned to look at Caliban, who was seated in a large armchair before a dark fireplace. The room was in shadow, but over his shoulder, she could see blue sky, just darkening into twilight. She’d been asleep for a while.

No, not asleep. She tasted the cotton wool on her tongue again and realized she’d been drugged. Anger raced through her, burning away the fuzziness. “You kidnapped me!”

“Technically, yes. I did.” There was no apology in his voice. “I apologize for the inconvenience.”

“Inconvenience?” Molly tried to get up and the room swirled around her, so she sat back down.

“I wouldn’t try to get up yet,” Caliban said. “I’m told the drug used on you takes a while to remove itself from your system. You might just want to lie back.”

“And what, think of England?” Molly snapped, but she didn’t try and get up again. “Where am I?”

“You’re my guest. At least for a while.”

“Guest. You mean prisoner,” Molly said, lying back against the pillows, refusing to look at him. “Since most people don’t drug and kidnap their guests. Or do spirits have poorer manners than us normal folk?”

“You should have thought of that before you became involved in things that were none of your business, Miss Barrett,” Caliban said, completely unruffled. “You chose to be a part of this, and now it’s time to play your part.”

“I had no choice,” she protested, staring up at the canopied ceiling of the bed. “I couldn’t let Jade die.”

“You could have helped me.”

Molly laughed bitterly. “Which would be letting her die. No thank you.” She rolled over slowly and waited for the room to stop spinning before she glared at him again. “You are a pathetic excuse of a man, and I will never help you.”

“Oh, but you will, Miss Barrett.” Caliban laughed quietly. “In fact, you already have.”

<><>

Aunt Margie had closed the bookstore early, and now she, Drew, Schrodinger, Jack, Pavel and Jade waited in the empty tea room. The early evening shadows crept across the front of the store, but no one wanted to go home. They were waiting.

“You’re sure he’ll send someone?” Aunt Margie asked, chewing on her lower lip worriedly. “He won’t just keep her?”

“It’s not her he wants,” Jade said soothingly, putting a hand on the older woman’s where it lay on the table. “It’s me.” She looked over at Jack. “He’ll send a message.”

Jack nodded. “He will. Caliban is nothing if not predictable.”

A sharp tapping on the front door drew their attention. Outside stood the servant boy, holding a message. Aunt Margie got up and unlocked the door, letting him in.

“I come with a message for the Snow Queen,” the boy said, but there was no fear in his voice this time, despite the fact that Schrodinger was standing up, growling, showing all his teeth.

“Speak your message, boy,” Jade said, sitting up straighter. She was wearing a plain dress, but there were snowflakes splashed across it, and a small tiara glinted in her hair. “I’m waiting.”

The servant bowed. “My master, Prince Caliban, requests that you lift your banishment of him and accept his suit, becoming his consort. If you do not, he will keep the kitchen witch. Forever.”

“Like hell!” Drew said, standing up so quickly that his chair fell backwards. “You tell that sonofa—”

Aunt Margie caught his arm and Jade raised her hand, cutting him off.

“I will lift the banishment.” She bit off the words, spitting them at the servant. “But he will have to come and make his case in person before I will make a choice as to who will become MY consort. And he must return Molly. Immediately.”

“I will carry your message, Your Majesty.” The servant bowed again and turned to go.

“Boy.” Jack’s voice stopped him in his tracks, and he turned back. “Tell your master that he has crossed a line today, and it is a line that he can never come back from. He will regret what he has done today.”

“I will tell him.”

Originally published at The words of Valerie Griswold-Ford. You can comment here or there.