The Ghastly Exchange – Episode 8

By the time I’d walked down the grand entrance hall to the front door, my tongue had returned to its normal size. For the first time since I’d cast Montefort’s tongue extending spell, I could press my lips together. I grinned and worked up some saliva to moisten my dry mouth.

That was a mistake. My guts heaved. I gagged and spat out a ball of fluff.

Once I had recovered my dignity, and finished scraping my mouth clean of hairs and a collection of unmentionable things my tongue had picked up during its foray across the sitting room floor, I straightened my back and swung open the door.

Outside, the night was as black as coal, thick and heavy with the energy of a mighty storm.

Rain pouring from the seething sky pelted the front steps, splashing voluminous silvery drops over my shoes. Water gushing out of a broken drainpipe nearby fell onto the sodden ground, which was beginning to resemble a small swamp.

Lightning flashed, and for a second or two the view outside the countess’s house was a frenzied mass of swaying trees, their gale-driven branches lashing back and forth like witches fingers.

“It looks nasty out there,” I said.

There was no reply. I turned around, expecting to see Grimmon standing behind me, but of the goblin there was no sign.

I huffed and returned to the sitting room to find him sitting in Virrellenta’s chair, his legs dangling like a child on a swing.

“What are you waiting for?” I said. “We’ve got to get back to the castle and put an end to Virrellenta’s evil plan.”

Grimmon stared at the ceiling. “I’m not going out in that storm.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” I smacked my fist into my palm. “We don’t have time to waste! We have to get back before it’s too late!”

“How do you suppose we’re going to get there?” Grimmon sniffed. “Let me remind you: your countess friend has taken the coach and horses. There’s no chance I’ll walk back with you in that downpour out there. We’ll be soaked through in seconds and die of the chills before we’re halfway.”

I hadn’t thought about that, but I wasn’t going to admit it to Grimmon.

“I have a plan.” I lied, making a brushing motion with my hand as though his words were of no consequence.

“Which is…?”

“I don’t want to spoil the surprise,” I said, raising my forefinger. “Come with me and all will be revealed.”

I was hoping that by wandering around the house I’d see something that would inspire me, and a plan would click into place. A plan I could pretend I’d had all along.

Grimmon scowled. “No thanks. I think I’ll stay where I am, comfortable and dry.”

“Well… if you can’t be bothered to come with me, I’ll… I’ll call you when I’m ready!” I whirled around and stalked out of the room.

As you may have guessed, I wasn’t keen on poking around the place on my own. I’m not normally scared of big empty houses, but this one was the house of a vampire, after all.

I trotted around the rooms downstairs, humming a tune to cheer myself up, hoping for inspiration. Apart from a thick layer of dust they were empty. Even the kitchen had nothing to offer, with its vacant cupboards covered in grime along with the ever-present dust.

I dashed back to the entrance hall and went up the stairs.

A minute later, I struck it lucky.

Standing proudly in the middle of the floor in the largest bedroom, was the solution to our problem.

“Grimmon!” I called. “Come here!”

I could hear him mumbling what were undoubtably complaints as he trudged up the stairs.

“Ta da!” I said, extending an arm as he entered the room.

His eyes widened as he took in what I was pointing at.

“A four-poster bed?” he said. “What good will–”

He broke off and stared at me in horror.

“No! Not another spell!”

“What are you worried about? My last one worked a treat!”

“That may be, but it was revolting.” Grimmon shook his head. “Anyway, that’s besides the point. You know as well as I do that most of your spells go wrong.”

I wasn’t about to let his negativity put me off. “Nonsense! In any case, what I have in mind is too simple to go wrong. A straightforward locomotion spell will have this bed trotting down the road on its little wooden legs in no time.” I grasped one of the bedposts and gave it a firm shake. “It’s nice and sturdy. The canopy is in good condition and will shelter us from the rain. What’s more, you can get under the covers to keep yourself warm.”

I clicked my fingers to keep his gaze from straying to the mouldy state of the bedclothes.

His brow creased. “Well… I suppose–”

He broke off as I grabbed him under the arms and plonked him on the bed by the pillows, raising a cloud of dust. Before he could protest I leapt up next to him and gabbled the spell I’d remembered when I’d clapped my eyes on the four-poster only minutes ago. In my mind’s eye I could almost see its words in my spellbook, which was lying on my desk back at the castle.

“Forward!” I shouted, pointing at the open door.

The bed lurched and started moving over the floor.

“How are we going to fit through the doorway?” shrieked Grimmon. “The bed’s too wide!”

“Don’t worry. The spell will take care of that.”

I shuffled down to the foot of the bed, staring ahead in anticipation. With the four-poster’s legs tapping on the floorboards with every step it took, we scuttled across the room. When we reached the door, the entire wall became hazy and melted away. I shouted in triumph as we scurried onto the landing and headed for the stairs.

I glanced back. Behind the bed – and Grimmon’s round-eyed face -, the wall reappeared, like solidifying mist.

The grand old house’s staircase was broad enough for the bed. Down it we went, bouncing and skidding like a giant four-legged beetle, while Grimmon and I held on like sailors on a storm-wracked ship.

At the front door, again the wall turned to mist, and the bed staggered down the front steps onto the driveway.

“Straight on,” I yelled.

With barely a pause, the four-poster trotted towards the gates. The dull thudding of heavy rain on its canopy, accompanied by rolls of thunder, almost drowned out the sound of its running legs splashing on the muddy ground.

Through the gateway we sped.

“Turn right,” I shouted.

The wooden bed legs scrabbled for purchase as we swerved to the right out onto the road. Within seconds we were hurtling along, the roadsides barely visible in the darkness.

“What did I tell you?” I shouted above the noise of the downpour, and turned my head to give Grimmon the benefit of the gloating expression on my face. “We’ll be home in no time!”

A bolt of lightning lit the landscape and Grimmon’s mouth dropped open. His gaze was fixed over my shoulder at the view ahead.

I whipped my head around to see what had caught his attention. My blood froze. The final moments of the lightning flash revealed a raging torrent of water cutting across the road ahead.

I dimly remembered the coach going over a stone bridge over a river a few minutes before we’d arrived at Virrellenta’s house. All that remained of that bridge were the broken ends on either bank. There was a large gap where the bridge’s middle section had been, washed away by the flood.

And the four-poster was galloping towards it at a reckless pace.

Any thought of throwing ourselves off the bed vanished when I looked down over the side. The river had burst its banks. We were splashing through swiftly flowing water that came right up to the bed’s base.

If I commanded the bed to turn it would get stuck in the muddy ground at the sides of the submerged road… Or fall into a ditch…

If I told it to stop, it would get washed away…

I did the only thing any sensible person would do in the same situation. I screamed.

With a clattering of wood on stone, we reached the stub of bridge on our side of the torrent, and rattled up its slope.

My guts clenched. In seconds we were going to hurtle over the broken end and plunge into the raging waters below.

But instead of tipping into the water when the bed’s front legs went over the edge, we carried on upwards at the same angle. With a last little shove, the rear legs left the broken end of the bridge.

Onwards we went, soaring through the air above the turbulent waters.

I crowed in delight.

The spell was doing exactly what it was supposed to.

Just like it had done with the walls inside the house, the bed had taken evasive action.

I grabbed the nearest bedpost and hugged it tight. “Oh, you beauty! Fly! Fly like a bird!”

In answer, the bed’s angle steepened and we shot upwards into the blackness of the boiling clouds.

“You blithering idiot!” screeched Grimmon’s voice from the murk. “Now look what you’ve done!”

The bed rocked in the wild air, climbing higher and higher. A gust spun us around in a wobbly pirouette.

With all the grace of an inebriated turkey, we burst through the top of the clouds into the clear night air.

I scrambled to the end of the bed and looked down.

The ground was completely hidden by cloud.

I had no idea where we were or in which direction the castle lay.

*** Continued in episode 9 ***

The Ghastly Exchange – Index of Episodes