Post by Tiago James Squalor on Jul 24, 2012 19:38:46 GMT -5
Chapter Ten
‘And she jumped just like that?’ Duncan was incredulous. Quigley had described the sight of Rose jumping out from the balcony into the mists beneath, which were now so thick the Crooked Creek was invisible. Isadora was well-sat at the tea table. The grappling hook had somehow detached from the canopy roof some time after Rose’s jump, and fell down into the mist as well. ‘She’s brave, I’ll give her that. This place is what, eight, nine, stories tall?’ Duncan still eyed the mists below with disbelief. Night was approaching, and the moon had appeared in the sky, casting an eerie light on the already gloomy environs of the Crooked Creek. ‘Ten, counting the attic, eleven if you count this balcony.’ Isadora said. She was too nervous about the height of the place to dare take a look. When Count Olaf had lowered her and her brothers into a dark empty elevator shaft in a metallic cage, using the elevator cables, Isadora had nearly fainted. The only reason she did not do so was because it was so dark they couldn’t even see the height. Quigley could still taste Rose’s lipgloss on his lips.
‘She took my jacket with her, the thief.’ Quigley complained. He was reduced to his purple stripped tank top now, and none too pleased about it. ‘I’ll send her a check for it.’ Duncan told him. ‘She knows your name. She knows who we are. That makes her twice as dangerous as before.’ Isadora said. ‘We need to get out of here, and pronto. I’m not staying for whatever show Gothic Works decides to put on.’ Duncan told them. ‘Yes, Duncan. But do you remember? They mean to kill someone in the building. And we have many reasons to believe it is Seth Lockhart.’ Quigley.
‘We also have the key to Seth’s appartment. He told us to use it before we left. I’m thinking the time of the memorial service for Mr. Cronenberg is appropriate.’ Isadora said. ‘Fine. Maybe Seth will be there. All we have to do is tell him we’re leaving and he’ll point us into the right direction.’ Duncan suggested. ‘I doubt it. Did you see the look on his face? He was very sad about Mr. Cronenberg’s death.’ Quigley had noticed Seth Lockhart crying silently in a corner of the main hall. He was the only one not to speak to Tony. That was very puzzling. ‘Well, we should get going, then. It’s a long way down.’ Isadora told her brothers. ‘Maybe we could pull a Rose?’ Duncan joked, but Quigley and Isadora just shoved him inside the attic.
The triplets eventually found their way to their apartment. Natalie was waiting for them. ‘Heard you’re leaving tonight. Are you attending Mr. Cronenberg’s service?’ She asked. They noticed Natalie was wearing black from head to toe. ‘Oh, you should have your coat back, Natalie.’ Isadora was still wearing Natalie’s coat, black and trimmed with feathers, the one that had once belonged to Esmé Squalor. ‘You keep it. It’s warmer than your grey one. I do not lack for clothes. As a matter of fact, I have too many. If you want, I can give you something to wear on your journeys.’
Natalie grabbed Isadora by the arm. ‘Come, let’s go to my apartment. I have many wonderful clothes that would suit you well.’ Isadora was too polite to say no, so eventually she, Quigley, and Duncan were inside Natalie’s apartment. It was decorated in an antique, intricately patterned purple wallpaper. The curtains were black. It was small, too, with a living room that also served as kitchen, and a doorless room which was more of a nook than an actual room. Resting above the fireplace, a portrait of Esmé Squalor watched the Quagmires. It was a vintage portrait, showing Esmé in black and white as if she was in a dark room with light pouring in right at her face, the distinguishable patterned shadow given off by venetian blinds across her face. She wore a dark fur coat, and her hair was ink black, darker than the Quagmires remembered. Then again, they hadn’t seen Esmé in a long time.
It took only a few minutes for Isadora to realize most of the outfits were too outlandish for her taste, though some dresses did please her. She settled for a black lacy dress similar to Natalie’s, black tights, a navy dress with a nautical ring to it, and an olive green dress with some details in black. She also picked a a black beret, a stripped navy-and-grey scarf, and three pairs of gloves, matching the new dresses. Natalie even gave Isadora some nail polish and make-up as well as some accessories, which Isadora attempted to refuse, but Natalie insisted. In the end, Isadora filled a small suitcase with her new garments and items, while Quigley and Duncan stayed in the living room, sipping on some of Natalie’s tea – which she had unfortunately previously sweetened – and then Isadora was done.
‘Thank you for the clothes, Natalie.’ Isadora said as the Quagmires were leaving Natalie Finch’s apartment. ‘Oh, it’s nothing, really. It’s the least I can do. I’ll go down in a minute. I have to get ready for the memorial service.’ Natalie closed the door, and the Quagmires made it to their room. They put everything they had into Isadora’s suitcase minus the necessary ammount of money to pay Ms. Cronenberg. Then afterwards it was time for the memorial service in honor of Mr. Cronenberg’s passing, presided by a vicar of the nearest parish in the common are of the building. Every guest and tenant was in attendance, minus Rose Hawthorne and the other five Gothic Works. Their absence was as unsettling as their presence, however. If every guest was in attendance, where were they?
Chapter Eleven
‘Welcome, guests, and tenants of Cronenberg Colossus Apartments. We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of Cletus Julius Cronenberg, who passed away into oblivion.’ The vicar said. ‘A tad grim start for an eulogy, don’t you think?’ One of the old spinsters whispered to the other. They were dressed in black, but as innapropriately as usual, wearing fancy dresses that were meant for parties and for the bodies of younger women, and not for a memorial service. The little girl shushed them both, making the nearby guests give quiet laughter. The vicar’s expression was grim but he was oblivious to everyone. It was hard telling one tenant from another, as they all looked so unremarkable in their black clothes and common faces. Ms. Cronenberg herself did not look to have shed one single tear, but wore black from head to toes, the only skin showing being that of her face, beneath a thin black veil. Beside her, Tony Cronenberg eyed the floors not once looking up to the coffin where his father’s body was. Mr. Cronenberg’s corpse was in a dark coffin, and the man’s body looked white as curdled milk. He had been pale and sickly in life, but strangely, he looked more alive now than before.
‘He was the beloved landlord of this complex for many years until he was too frail to continue. He was forgiving and generous, and we will all greatly miss him.’ Said one tennant who had been called to give speech. Several tenants were eager to speak of the deceased’s generosity, and how things were so much better when it was him in charge of the apartments. The widow was seething with a calm fury beneath her veils, and Tony laid his hand on her arm as if telling her to calm herself. When the time came for Seth Lockhart to speak, Professor Rowan rose from his seat instead. ‘Mayhaps I could speak before Seth? I want to pay my respects and retire for the evening if that’s possible. ‘Surely.’ The vicar replied.
Professor Rowan went to the improvised altar, and as he took his position to give his eulogy, the storm that was brewing outside started suddenly. Lightning outside, lighting up the tall gothic stained glass window of the common area. Years later, the Quagmires still talked about that moment. The impulse that drove Seth Lockhart to rise from his seat screaming ‘Professor, behind you!’ when a shadow appeared on the window. Seth rushed in to tackle the professor to the side, but he was too late; the professor had only time to turn to the window when it exploded and a harpoon came flying in, and went through him, hitting the wooden floor beneath. Then two more harpoons flew right through the Professor, and blood splattered the floor, the vicar, a dumbfounded Seth Lockhart and the shocked crowd of tenants, Natalie Finch and Quagmires included. More harpoons flew in, this time aimed at Seth, but he was quicked to dodge them. The harpoons had cords attached to them, and just as they came flying in, they flew out, splintering the wooden floors and cutting pieces of Professor Rowan’s body, splattering even more blood. The tenants ran for their lives as more harpoons flew in and out of the room, and the Quagmires had no alternative but to join them; the terror was too great. Natalie Finch, however, just fell to her knees right then and there, unable to move, staring into the pool of blood forming underneath the Professor’s body. Natalie screamed and pulled her hair, falling down on the floor, shaking and screaming. Outside the common area, with Isadora and Duncan safe, and the tenants running and screaming for their lives – some even out of the building itself – Quigley looked back. The harpoons kept flying in and out and Seth Lockhart managing to dodge a few, but with others managing to cut him. Natalie was immobilized and Quigley looked to Isadora and Duncan. ‘I can’t leave her in there.’ Isadora and Duncan stood there as Quigley rushed into the common area, dodging the harpoons – very few of them, as most were directed at Seth as he ran about. Quigley crouched next to Natalie and took her in his arms, and made for the door – unfortunately, that left him vulnerable, and one harpoon cut him in the lower left side of his stomach, but thankfully it didn’t lodge itself into Quigley’s flesh. He only managed a few more steps before falling, when he was outside the room, dropping Natalie, who screamed and screamed.
‘Quigley!’ Isadora saw the deep cut on Quigley’s stomach and thought she might faint, but there was no such time for faiting. She knew what she had to do. ‘Duncan, you’re stronger than me. Take care of Quigley and Natalie, hide them in that curtained nook over there. Wait for me, I’ll be back.’ Isadora took the key to Seth Lockhart’s apartment and rushed up the stairs. All around, tenants were screaming and running. Isadora eventually found herself in the floor of Seth’s apartment, having managed to dodge several tenants who were running up and down the stairs. She was faster than any of them, climbing the stairs two, three steps at once, and dodging and evading the traffic of people. Soon, she arrived at Seth’s aparment. She put the key and turned it, and the door slid open. Isadora Quagmire entered the apartment.
Chapter Twelve
Unable to think about what she had just recently witnessed and of Quigley’s wound, and Natalie’s breakdown, Isadora Quagmire was now inside the apartment of the runaway scientist Seth Lockhart. There she expected to find clues or maybe a note or letter, but found nothing of the sort. The apartment was cluttered with old Punctilio issues, yellowed by time, and documents, folders and papers. Advancing through the main hallway, Isadora came across a photograph of Seth Lockhart standing next to a younger Doctor Jill Nebra, as well as a tall dark haired male which must have been another of the Unknown Agents’ scientists, with a strangely shaped beard and hair slick and divided in the middle, with pale blue eyes. Next to him, Doctor Lugae and his daughter, Luccia Lugae, another scientist. In the background, Isadora Quagmire saw the Unknown Agents’ laboratory of horrors in the Bleak Bridge – the are where the Agents lived. She took the photograph as an impulse, folding it in two and putting it inside her coat.
It was only when Isadora Quagmire arrived at the living room of the apartment that she noticed something very strange. An unusual display was above the fireplace. A painting, divided in four squares, each differently colored – one green, one brown, one red, one blue -, each with a different texture. Each square had a hollow in it, and in three of those hollow space there was a large, gleaming gem. In the middle of the painting, overlapping the four squares was a white one with a blue gem. Puzzled by it, it took Isadora a moment to notice the carefully written note resting above the fireplaces’ console.
‘To a certain poetess, from another poetess
An Emerald Is As Green As Grass
An emerald is as green as grass;
A ruby red as blood;
A sapphire shines as blue as heaven;
A flint lies in the mud.
A diamond is a brilliant stone,
To catch the world's desire;
An opal holds a fiery spark;
But a flint holds fire.
Christina Georgina Rossetti
S.L.
S.L.
.
‘A poem by Christina Rossetti?’ Isadora happened to love Christina Rossetti’s poetry, even if she was more into the couplets by Ogden Nash. It then suddenly clicked for Isadora what she had been presented with. ‘Thank God it was me who came here and not Duncan.’ Her brother was clever, but this was where Isadora thrived. Poetry and puzzles were her thing. She often thought of poetry as solving a puzzle with carefully placed words. The puzzle was the idea, the words, the solution. A smiled appeared on Isadora Quagmire’s face as she examined the painting, the gems and the poem.
Five differently colored squares. ‘An emerald is as green as grass.’ She recited, looking at the green square. In it, a red gem gleamed. In the brown square, a green gem gleamed and glinted. Isadora removed the green gem, swapping it with the red gem in the green square. She heard a clicking noise behind the painting. ‘A ruby red as blood’ Isadora recited again. In the red square, a brown gem glinted. Swapping the red gem with the brown, she heard another clicking noise, this one deeper into the wall than the last. ‘A sapphire shines as blue as heaven In the white square, a blue gem glinted. Isadora removed the blue gem and inserted it into the blue square. Another clicking noise, which came from somewhere in between the last two clicking noises. Now Isadora had three spaces with the corresponding gems, a brown gem in her hands and two spaces were still without their gem.
‘A diamond is a brilliant stone to catch a world’s desire…’ Isadora saw no white gem anywhere on the painting. Clearly, one of the gems was missing. There was still something amiss, something Isadora had not noticed. She noticed the shape of the fireplace beneath. The console was shaped like mountains, and sculpted in the marble, she saw tiny human and animal figures, with a sea in the middle. In the middle, a clock was ticking. Isadora approached. She re-examined the painting. The white square was the same color of the marble fireplace beneath her. Actually, Isadora noticed, it was not so much white as it was a faint yellow. Easy to mistake for white in that lighting. ‘An opal holds a fiery spark, but a flind holds fire.’ Isadora had reached a point where she didn’t know what to make of it. She needed two gems to complete the puzzle, but she only had one.
A brown gem which she assumed, was the flint in the poem. ‘What is it again? A flint holds fire…’ Something occurred to Isadora, but then the brown gem slipped from her fingers and fell into the fireplace when she tried to catch it. ‘Oh no!’ Isadora looked for something to quench the fire with, and noticed a bucket nearby, under a leak from the apartment above. The bucket was nearly filled, and Isadora almost dropped it on her way back to the front of the fireplace. She poured some of the water on the carpet – Seth Lockhart would understand – and the rest on the hearth. Using one of the iron pokers, she retrieved the brown gem. It was glowing, hot . Using a wool sweater she caught on the nearby couch, Isadora inserted the red hot gem in the brown circle. This time, she heard three clicking noises one after the other, from inside the wall. There was no white gem, still, though. Frustrated, she knocked the marble of the fireplace with the iron poker, and heard the characteristic noise of something hard falling on wood. When she crouched and examined the floor, she encountered a pale yellow gem, which had been well disguised in the fireplace, directly beneath the pale yellow square of the painting. Smiling, Isadora took the gem. ‘The opal.’
Five consecutive clicking noises were heard. The painting lowered, and dust fell onto the fireplace console. Slowly, the painting opened up to reveal a hidden alcove in the wall. It was just like the safe in her father’s study, where some of the Quagmire sapphires were kept. Isadora smiled and reached her hands inside. A package was waiting, and tied to it, a letter.
‘Take this. Leave at once. Use it when the time presents itself. Because this contains power, power to vanquish those who would hunt us. Use it well. And be safe, Quagmires.
Seth Lockhart
’Isadora wasted no time in opening the package by herself. She closed the painting, burned the letter and the poem with the few embers which weren’t quenched by the water. Power was what Seth claimed that package contained. And in her knowledge, there was only one thing that could mean. Yes, my dear reader. This time, the word power has a very different meaning. And that meaning is Grimstone.
Chapter Thirteen
Isadora found Duncan and Quigley and Natalie in the curtained nook they had previously seen the Gothic Works group arrive. She was pleased to see Natalie had recovered from her fit of screaming. ‘Seth Lockhart managed to get out of the room, the harpoons stopped.’ She told her between sobs. ‘But…But…Professor Rowan, he…’ Natalie was crying. ‘I’m sorry, Natalie.’ Isadora told her. Isadora was also pleased to see Quigley’s wound was not as grave as one might think. ‘I stitched him up real good. Natalie ran upstairs and brought us some medicine and line and needles.’ Duncan told her. They had enveloped Quigley’s abdomen with bandages, but the wound was still bleeding. ‘Are you okay, Quigley?’
‘Yeah, sure. Let’s hope the harpoons were not poisoned, though.’ He smiled. Isadora was about to them them about the puzzle and the poem and the package when they heard steps from behind the curtains. Thankfully enough the steps were not headed towards them. ‘Did you find him?’ A voice asked. It was the other brittish girl, the blonde with the eyepatch. ‘Albion did. He was hidden in one apartment. He tried to shoot your father.’ The voice of Rose Hawthorne was recognizable. They could catch a faint whiff of her perfume. ‘That shows how much a bloody fool he is.’ The other girl scowled. ‘Fool as he might be, he still dodged every one of your harpoons.’ Rose fired back. ‘Ferfei will be cross with me when she finds out I murdered the wrong man.’
Rose trancquilized the other girl. ‘Ferfei knows when to be merciful, Leona. Have you forgotten the thirteenth pair? Anyways, Ferfei is but the sixth in our ranks. She is the highest ranked and the current leader of this mission, but the thirteenth pair only joined because the First ones allowed them to.’ Rose spoke calmly. ‘Yes, the First Ones. I still don’t get it. The thirteenth should be executed for their failures, and not allowed within our ranks.’
‘Are you contesting the First Ones’ decisions?’ The voice of Liam Hawthorne was heard. ‘Shut up, Twelve. No one is contesting anything.’ The blonde girl, or, Leona, replied. ‘Where is Ferfei?’ Liam asked. ‘I am here.’ The german accent gave it away; the asian girl had arrived. ‘Vere on earf is Albion vif de captive?’ She asked. ‘He’s bringing him. Oh, there he is.’ Leona answered.
The Quagmires could hear the steps from where the stairs would be. But it appeared one of the people descending the stairs didn’t actually want to do it from the hesitant characteristic of their steps. ‘I caught myself quite a fox just now.’ The man’s brittish accent was distinct. ‘I see no fox. I see a rat, is vot I see.’ The other german accented foreigner’s voice was heard. The one who’d refered to the asian girl as his sister. It appeared all of Gothic Works was gathered now, but those were but six members of a much grander total.
‘You killed the wrong man tonight, Leona. The First Ones will be cross.’ The lordly man’s voice again. ‘I apologize, father. But isn’t it better that way? We can interrogate him, find out if he knows about other…targets for us.’ A scowl was heard. ‘Your orders vere to exterminate Sef Lockhart, not to kill anoder man and interrogate him.’ The girl identified as Ferfei reprehended. ‘Still, I do think Leona is onto somefing here, Ferfei, darling.’ The german accented man replied. ‘Let us interrogate him, Ferfei. We were told to execute him and search his dwelling for what he stole from our superiors.’ Rose’s voice.
‘Very vell den. Interrogate him. But if he does not give us ansvers, kill him. Ve have to get moving soon to our next target.’ Ferfei’s voice. ‘You vill come vif us, rat. And you vill shows to your stolen treasure.’ The voices stopped and the Quagmires stayed, quietly and aprehensive in that curtained nook. It was a long while before Duncan took a peek. The hall was empty, seemingly abandoned. The front door was wide open and wind and rain came in, turning the once warm hall into a frigid tomb. ‘Let’s go. We have to get out of here.’ Quigley told them. Isadora put the package inside her suitcase. When the Quagmires had just walked outside the building, they realized Natalie Finch had lagged behind. When they turned to look at her.
‘I…I can’t go with you.’ She told them. ‘I can’t…I have to take care…Professor Rowan…He had no one…I can’t go with you.’ Natalie was crying again. Isadora put her suitcase on the cobblestone ground, and went to Natalie. ‘You can’t stay, Natalie. Those people are still in there! They can kill you, like they did Professor Rowan!’ Isadora told her, but Natalie was resolved. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t abandon Professor Rowan like that…There are still some harpoons in his body, I…I have to tend to him.’
‘What of the Gothic Works, Natalie?’ Duncan had approached them now. The Quagmires and Natalie were soaked wet, as they rain fell heavy. Down by the Crooked Creek, the river had become turbulent, deeper and wider than it was just that morning. ‘I have nothing to offer them. They won’t bother me. I just need to see thar Professor Rowan has some dignity in death. Then I’ll move away from here. But not before. Please understand.’ Natalie supplicated. And then, she hugged Isadora. Quigley and Duncan put their hands on Natalie’s shoulders as she cried. And then, Natalie parted. ‘Thank you for giving me a chance. We may never be friends, but…But you’ve truly given me hope. Thank you. Goodbye.’ Natalie Finch then retreated back int othe obscurity of the apartment building, and closed the double doors behind her.
Duncan, Quigley and Isadora Quagmire descended the cobblestone stairway to the Crooked Creek as they could; Quigley was slow due to his wound, but Duncan was helping Isadora carry her suitcase. The rain had made the stairway slippery. It was very dark now, darker than the night before; none of the light poles that had lit their way in the night of their arrival were lit. After that short period of time, the Cronenberg Colossus Apartments had been changed forever.
‘I believe if we keep following the river it will lead us straight into Deluge Dam’s lake. From there we can go to the town and seek around for Violet.’ Quigley told Duncan and Isadora. It was settled. They carefully tied Isadora’s new suitcase to their previously arranged supplies. In Isadora Quagmire’s new suitcase was everything the Quagmires had gained for their time in that strange apartment building. The Punctilio article with Violet’s face, the Gothic Works symbol, carefully drawn by Seth Lockhart in a piece of paper, Isadora’s new wardrobe and of course, the mysterious package she had uncovered, which she hadn’t had time to discuss with her brothers yet. As the Quagmires hopped on the hovercraft, untying it from the quay of the small harbor, they started upstream, away from the Cronenberg Colossus Apartments, floating and speeding across the now turbulent waters of the Crooked Creek, unaware of the dangers laid ahead of them.
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EXTRA
If you have read The Crooked Creek, I hereby grant you the title of
Loathsome Landlord
Loathsome Landlord