Maria reached out and took the containers from the dog’s mouth, slobber and all. “Why does an ice cream place even have salt and pepper?” she asked, mostly to herself. “Do people honestly salt and pepper their ice cream? Ohio is almost as weird as Oriceran…but a lot less magical.”
No, Sherlock answered, I got these from outside in the dumpster.
Maria let them fall from her grip. They clattered off the linoleum, the sound barely heard over the babble of the other wanderers’ voices, and rolled under the raised platforms that both Joe and the fifty-pound bags of sugar were on.
Damn it, Maria. He’s gonna taste so bland now.
“For the last time, Sherlock, you don’t eat humans,” Maria said.
Hey, what can I say? War’s changed me. I’m a different type of doggy now.
He said this last sentence with forced coolness. All Maria could do was shake her head.
From the table, Gramps slapped Salem on the back of his shoulder and said, “It’s settled then! I’ll go to the crypt.”
Maria whirled around, her face a mask of mild anger and confusion. “You’ll go? What about me? She was my mother.” The thought of seeing her dead hadn’t really struck Maria as odd. She was just excited she would get to see where her mother had been laid to rest. Maybe after all this blew over—the war, the enemy, the madness—she could visit her more often, tell her about her day, her childhood…all the things Zimmy Ba missed out on.
“Oh, honey,” Agnes said, leaning backward. “It’s much too dangerous. You are safer here for the time being.”
“At least until the war starts,” Claire added.
Maria looked at her best friends. Both Claire and Tabby seemed different; their faces were harder. Claire had lost weight, her jaw was sharper, and her eyes were harder. As for Tabby, the wound around her neck had not yet fully healed. It was still a blackish-purple line that gave her the look of Frankenstein’s monster with his head sewn on. Of course, Tabby was much prettier than Frankenstein’s monster, but if Maria saw either of them walking down a dark alley in the wee hours of night, she’d probably turn around and walk the other way—magic, sword, and all.
“The war has already started,” Maria countered. “The more time we waste, the more time the Widow has to prepare. No doubt the Orcs that escaped Ashbourne will have made it back to their king, and their king will have reported what happened to the Arachnids. They could be raising Rogue Dragons of their own.”
Gelbus shook his head. “The Rogue Dragons will not rise again…at least not in our lifetime; not as long as you’ve locked Odarth away in that dreadful Cave of Delusion.”
“He’s right,” Gramps agreed. “We mustn’t worry about the fighting—not yet, at least. Our primary goal is finding the Jewel to work that music box.”
Maria saw there was no arguing her point to Gramps. His face was stern, his jaw set. When he got like that, as stubborn as he already was, there was no hope for getting her way.
“Besides, Maria, you must stay behind and recover. You’ve had a tough few days,” Gramps said.
More like a tough few weeks, Maria thought bitterly.
She just shook her head in reply to her grandfather, letting him know she wasn’t happy with his decision. It didn’t do much good; Gramps just turned right back to the chest that was seated next to the music box on the table, and resumed riffling through the papers.
Maria got up and walked over to him. The paper Gramps was unfolding turned out to be a map of the Dark Forest. The only reason Maria knew that was because of the small dot located on the southern outskirts of the trees, between the mountains, labeled Dominion—the place Maria was born, and the place she had left as it died.
“I buried her here,” Gramps said to Salem. He pointed to a place on the map well beyond the Dark Forest’s tree line.
Salem’s face went pale, and Agnes gripped his forearm tight enough for the flesh on her knuckles to whiten.
“I know, I know. If I could go back in time, I’d do it differently, but all those years ago, that place was untouched by the darkness. Zimmy loved to go and watch the water run lazily through the brook. It was her place of solitude.”
“Like Superman!” Claire chimed in, causing Tabby to shake her head. Like always, the bulk of the wanderers ignored her.
“Well, for our sakes, I hope it’s still untouched by the darkness.” The way Salem spoke didn’t carry much hope.
Maria was about to open her mouth again to protest her grandfather carrying out this quest without her, when a stirring caused her words to catch and die in her throat.
Joe moaned, and the brown paper of the sugar bags crinkled as he moved.
Aw, even better, Sherlock said. I love it when my food puts up a fight. Makes ‘em that much tastier.
Maria whirled around and saw Joe sitting up, the heel of his palms digging into his eye sockets as if he’d just woken up from a long nap and not been forced to unconsciousness by the surprise of seeing magical beings for the first time.
“Geez, Sherlock,” Maria said as she walked over to the bags. “You’re starting to sound like an Arachnid.”
Sherlock laughed manically in her head. War changed me, Maria! It did! No squirrel, Gnome, or Raffin shall escape my wrath!
“Yeah, I knew that diet wouldn’t last,” Maria said as she nudged the Bloodhound out of the way.
Joe looked up at the sound of her voice.
From the table, Claire announced, “Sleeping beauty awakens! About time, Joe—we thought we’d lost you to slumberland.”
Maria whipped around and shot her best friend a snarling glare. Claire shut up promptly, but her face didn’t lose any of its amusement…until Tabby punched her on the shoulder. Then Claire winced.
“Where…where am I?” Joe asked. He looked around with wide, bleary eyes, taking in the soft, white light of
