Tara Duncan and the Forbidden Book (36 page)

She tossed and turned for a while, her head full of questions. Since the vampyr could get out of prison, why didn't he just run away? Had he really killed that man and drunk his blood? And if so, why? That story of being hungry in the middle of the night just didn't make sense.

Darn! The vampyr was right. She hated not understanding things.

The next morning, Gallant, Sparrow, Robin, Cal, Fabrice, and Manitou came to get Tara so they could have breakfast together before she started work with Master Chem. So they were very surprised when the door to her suite refused to open. They waited for a few minutes, calling to her, but she didn't appear.

“You think she's not in her room?” asked Sparrow, who was starting to get worried.

“Let's try the main dining room,” suggested Cal. “Maybe she went down for breakfast. C'mon, I'm famished!”

Gallant refused to leave his post, however. The pegasus stood in front of the bedroom door, his body tense with anxiety. The others went downstairs and looked around, but didn't find Tara. Cal grabbed a croissant and a roll and headed back up to try the room again. To his surprise, he met Angelica on the way. The tall brunette had been released after being pardoned by the empress. She didn't recognize Cal in his gorgeous persona, of course, and stopped in her tracks. He was about to say something nasty when she smiled at him.

“Hello,” she purred. “I don't believe we've met.”

He snatched a piece of croissant from his mouth, brushed off his crumb-spattered jerkin, and bowed.

“Bond,” he murmured in a velvety voice, as Fabrice and Robin rolled their eyes. “James Bond. And you are . . . ?”

“Angelica. Angelica Brandaud, apprentice spellbinder to Master Dragosh, the vampyr. Or, I was, because I've been reassigned to Lady Boudiou.” (Sparrow, who was Boudiou's apprentice, jumped.) “Or, at least I will be until another high wizard comes to take his place. Could you possibly be that person?”

Cal couldn't resist.

“Absolutely,” he said firmly. “I am High Wizard Bond and I would be deliiiighted to work with such a voluptuous beauty.”

He again bowed over the girl's hand. Before she swooned, he said:

“Unfortunately I have to leave you, beautiful. Duty calls! See you soon!”

Angelica looked at him the way a cat looks at a particularly appetizing canary. “Oh yes, soon! Very soon!”

Cal flung his cape across his broad shoulders and manfully strode off. Angelica was so captivated that she didn't notice that Sparrow was choking with laughter.

Robin and Fabrice managed to keep a straight face—and Manitou a straight muzzle—as they passed Angelica, who hadn't yet come down from her little cloud.

When they were in front of Tara's suite, however, they grew serious again. They knocked and called, but nothing worked. Gallant was going crazy pounding the door, first with his wings, then his claws, and Sheeba and Blondin had to calm him down before he hurt himself. When the castle refused even Cal's entreaties to open up, they finally went to get Lady Kalibris.

Dana and Clara, the tatris's twin heads, together ordered the door opened, and the castle had to obey.

A terrifying scene awaited them: Blind eyes staring at the ceiling, Tara lay on her bed with a stream of dried blood across her cheek.

And a crossbow arrow was lodged in her heart.

R
obin gave an anguished cry and raced over to the body. “Watch out!” shouted Manitou. “It's a—”

Too late. The half-elf was moaning with despair as he went to clutch Tara . . . and his hands passed right through her body!

“—shadow!” the Labrador finished.

“A shadow?” croaked Fabrice, sobbing. “You mean Tara's dead, and this is her ghost?”

“No, no, not at all,” said Manitou reassuringly. “It's an illusion. The spitting image of her, down to the smallest detail. Unless you touch it, you can't tell the difference.”

“But how—?”

“How did I know? An illusion has no odor. I didn't smell anything, so it wasn't Tara.”

Sparrow had already recovered and was watching Gallant. Far from seeming upset, the pegasus was carefully sniffing at the walls like an overgrown bloodhound.

All right, I've got it, Sparrow thought. She shouted, making the others jump: “Tara! Where are you?”

“In here!” answered the “dead” girl. “I'll be right out.”

A section of the wall behind them suddenly pivoted and Tara stepped through it, covered with dust.

“Whew!” she said. “I had a pretty busy night.”

That was all she was able to say, because Robin had grabbed her and was hugging her so tight that she could hardly breathe. This immediately raised another cloud of dust and made the half-elf cough, but he didn't let her go.

Tara could feel his heart thudding.

“Er, are you okay?” she asked him.

“I thought you were dead!” Robin stepped away, and Gallant immediately took his place.

“So did I,” said Fabrice tearfully, hugging her in turn. “What's this set-up on the bed about?”

Tara felt bad that she had frightened her friends. “I'm sorry,” she said, stroking her pegasus's soft hair. “I thought I'd be back before you got here, but I lost track of time. I asked the castle not to open my door.”

Lady Kalibris, who was trying to calm down, jumped on the opening.

“The castle was only obeying us,” began Dana sharply. “Could someone—”

“— please explain—” continued Clara.

“— what's going on here—” said Dana.

“—for chrissakes!” Clara's curse drew a shocked look from her twin head.

Tara asked for a moment to wash off the dust and ran into the bathroom. When she came back out, she was a lot cleaner. While they were gathering around, she made the image of the bloody corpse disappear. All that remained was the crossbow arrow sunk deep in the bed, which quivered in indignation.

Stifling a yawn, she explained: “Someone tried to kill me, and I thought it might be smart to make them think they'd succeeded. I was dozing off last night when it occurred to me that the killer might well try again. So I decided to sleep on the floor with a blanket. The castle helped with the trick, by hiding me under an illusion, and I forbade it to open the door. But the killer used a secret passage instead of the door. The opening in the wall was completely invisible. I had put my substitute image on the bed. Two hands emerged from the passageway, holding an armed crossbow. They aimed at the fake Tara and fired.”

Even though they knew she had survived, Tara's friends were hanging on her every word.

“I made my ghost body writhe as if I were dying, produced some fake blood, and waited until the opening swung shut. Then I walked over to the wall and figured out how to open the passage, and I followed it. There's a whole maze of corridors and rooms back there! With lots of cobwebs and dust. I followed the killer's tracks, and the footprints led to . . .”

Like a skilled storyteller, she paused to heighten the suspense.

“So, where did they lead?” blurted Robin impatiently, his elf blood crying for vengeance.

“To Master Chem's office!”

Seven exclamations burst out at once, as Tara's friends and Lady Kalibris reacted with disbelief, fury, and astonishment.

“That's impossible!” the two heads roared. “Chemnashaovirodaintrachivu couldn't ever—”

“I didn't say that it was Master Chem who tried to kill me,” Tara interrupted. “Just that the footprints in the dust led to his office, that's all. Actually, when I went in, he was snoring on his bed of diamonds and didn't move a scale. I went over and made some noise, but he didn't stir. If somebody had gone out of the office, the stone dragon and unicorn would've sounded the alarm. So, I figured there must be a second passageway.”

“Our old dragon is going to be happy to find out that his security system is riddled with holes,” said Cal, chuckling.

“I knew what I was looking for, so it didn't take long to find it.”

“What then?” asked Fabrice, who couldn't stand the suspense.

“The passageway had a number of branches. Some led to the big Throne Room, others to the prisons, and still others to various rooms I've never seen. I didn't explore all of them. But in spite of all my efforts, I wasn't able to find the killer.”

“I will immediately tell the castle—” snapped Clara.

“— to seal off those passages,” ended Dana, furiously.

“It can't do that,” said Tara. “Some areas aren't enchanted, and the castle has no control over them. They're especially hard to find because the castle projects its illusions everywhere. Not to mention that it has some secret passages of its own that it doesn't necessarily want everyone to know about.”

“I'm going to put this castle on a diet, starting right now,” grumbled Clara.

“No more illusions for three days—” agreed Dana.

“—while we find and close off those passageways—” said Clara.

“— right away!” Dana concluded.

“That's all very well, but what do we do now?” asked Sparrow. “Tara is supposed to be dead.”

“We mourn her,” suggested Fabrice. “We cry our eyes out, because we've lost our friend. If we don't show sadness, the killer will know they've been fooled, and will try again.”

“Tara, you have to transform yourself,” said Cal, with a touch of irony, “into something that the killer is sure to notice.”

“An elf!” exclaimed Robin. “A warrior elf . . . in charge of an investigation!”

“That's an excellent idea,” approved Dana.

“We could even say that she had been engaged to find the killer,” suggested Clara, picking up on the game.

“That wouldn't surprise anyone,” continued Dana. “After all, the hunter-elves are OtherWorld's detectives. Yes, an excellent idea. Go ahead, Tara. Transform yourself quickly before someone starts looking for me. I have a castle to run!”

Tara obeyed. Her and the living stone's combined magic caused her to grow taller. Her hair turned white and grew into a complicated braid held in a springy metal clasp. Her eyes became crystalline, her eyebrows angled up to her temples, and her ears lengthened. Like all warrior elves, she wore a white, gold-embossed keltril breastplate over a fine white silk tunic. She carried a number of knives; a sword hung by her side, and a beautiful bow was slung across her back.

The living stone gave her an elf's inhuman speed, and Tara was surprised to notice how heavy and clumsy the others now seemed. All her senses were heightened. She could see the smallest grain of dust, hear the slightest sound, and feel her entire body with an intensity that was almost painful. She wrinkled her pretty nose. Smells were very intense as well.

Fabrice grimaced. Tara looked stunning, and she and Cal now made a perfect couple.

Cal bowed to her.

“Wow! Great transformation job!” he said admiringly. “Er, while you're at it, do you feel like giving me my old appearance back? Even Angelica fell for my look, and I'm sick and tired of it.”

Tara laughed. “You don't mean Angelica—”

“Yes, she did,” said Sparrow, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Cal did his ‘James Bond' number. He told her he was the next high wizard she would be working with.”

Tara whistled. “Oh, she's gonna be so disappointed!”

“No kidding,” said Cal with a laugh, who didn't feel guilty in the least. “So, can you do something about my looks?”

“You already asked me that,” answered Tara. “I have no idea how to do it without maybe giving you five extra noses or putting green hair all over your body. Be patient. It's got to wear off sometime.”

She smiled at him, but Cal didn't exactly looked convinced.

“All right, since you like transformations, it's Gallant's turn now,” he said. “Not many elves have familiars, and none of them has a pegasus. You'd be recognized immediately.”

At that, Sheeba growled softly, and Sparrow informed them that her panther suggested that Gallant be turned into a white tiger. He already had claws, so it wouldn't feel like that much of a change. The suggestion was adopted and in moments the magnificent stallion had become a giant cat. He didn't much like walking, and asked Tara if he could have wings. But since there aren't a lot of flying tigers in OtherWorld, she turned him down.

The friends refined their plan and split up. Fabrice, Barune, Sparrow, Sheeba, and Manitou began by casting Lamentatus spells on themselves. They were disheveled and in tears when they emerged from the suite to announce that their friend Tara had been killed. To complete the illusion, Tara put her macabre corpse back on the bed, and Lady Kalibris sealed the room.

For their part, Cal, Blondin, Robin, Tara, and Gallant went underground to try to find the tracks of whoever had fired the crossbow at her. Blondin sniffed about, while mentally complaining of lions' poor sense of smell.

Thanks to her heightened elf senses, Tara's progression into the tunnel was very different from her first time. She was now able to make out the unknown person's movements, easily visualizing the least of his actions. He had leaned against the stone, maybe to draw the crossbow. He had kneeled down at one point, possibly having dropped something. Further on, he'd hesitated where two passages divided.

Tara was startled to realize that her blood was boiling with rage against the monstrous killer, and she had to control herself to keep from screaming in fury.

“It isn't easy, is it?” murmured Robin, well aware of his friend's agitation.

“Man! Do you feel this way all the time? This urge to fight and smash everything when you get angry?”

“Not as much as full-blooded elves, but yes,” he said. “We're a very turbulent people. Our elders have sort of loaned us out to other races for their armies and police forces. Otherwise we'd spend all our time fighting each other over nothing.”