The Ghastly Exchange – Final Episode

“There,” I said, standing back from the workbench and wiping my hands on my apron. “What do you think?”

Grimmon squinted at the human-sized figure lying on a sheet atop the workbench.

I was proud of my handiwork. Toiling in the workshop, it had taken most of the day to shape the figure from sticks, binding and glueing them together with cords of dried grass and melted beeswax.

“It doesn’t look much like Trewla,” he said. “I’m not sure the countess will be fooled.”

“Don’t be so negative. I haven’t cast the spell yet.”

“Ah.” The goblin’s pointed, black tongue slithered out and moistened his lips. “Look, I really don’t think relying on one of your spells is a good idea.”

“Oh? You’ve a better one, have you?”

“Yes. Like I’ve been saying all along, we should go right now and tell Trewla she’s in danger and she needs to hide.”

“And like I’ve said each time you’ve brought that up, we can’t do that because she’ll panic.” I shook my head firmly. “No, we won’t tell her anything until a few minutes before sunset.”

We both glanced at the workshop’s window. The sun was already close to the horizon.

“Not long to go,” said Grimmon. “You’d better hurry.”

I rubbed my hands together. “Don’t worry. I just need to cut off the sticking out bits, then we’ll take this beauty to Trewla’s apartment and bring her up to speed.”

Grimmon and I had spent a couple of hours collecting the materials for the figure. I’d been a little put out how particular the spell’s requirements were, nevertheless I’d followed them to the letter. Well, apart from using driftwood sticks to construct the figure seeing as there weren’t any hazel trees on the island. And I was convinced the beeswax I’d found in the workshop’s storeroom was superior to the tallow stipulated by the spell. And who would use stinging nettles for the bindings when there was plenty of tough beach grass available? Not that there were any nettles on the island, anyway.

With shaking hands, I sawed off the ends of the sticks poking out from the figure’s otherwise rounded contours, then looked at the window again. The sun was a hairbreadth above the horizon.

“Finished! Time to go,” I said, wrapping the sheet around the figure. “I’ll hold the head, you grab the the feet and help me carry it.”

Trewla’s apartment was not far from the workshop, and in less than a minute of shuffling along the corridor holding the wrapped figure between us, we were knocking on her door.

“What are we going to do if Trewla isn’t here?” said Grimmon.

“It’s a bit late to bring that up now!” I said, a little annoyed I hadn’t thought of it myself. “Why didn’t you mention it earlier?”

He was saved from having to answer when the door swung open and Trewla looked out at us.

“What do you want?” she said. Her brow creased when she spotted what we were carrying. “And what in Yewliyamala’s name is that?”

“We’re here to save you,” I said. “You’re I dreadful danger. Let us in and I’ll explain.”

Trewla’s frown deepened.

“He’s telling the truth,” said Grimmon. “For once.”

I gave him a dirty look at that last statement, but bit my tongue. His words had the right effect, though. Trewla stood aside and waved us in.

Closing the door, she glared at Grimmon and me. “Start explaining. It had better be good.”

“Please, whatever you do, don’t panic,” I said. “I’ve got everything perfectly under control.”

Trewla folded her arms. “Not a good start.”

Grimmon’s ears jiggled about in agitation. “What he’s trying to say is, Virrellenta is a vampire and she’s chosen you for her first meal.”

“A vampire?” Trewla raised an eyebrow.  “Really?”

“Yes!” I said. “But don’t worry, I’ve got a plan to save you. She’ll be here soon, so please stop asking questions and let us get on with things.”

Trewla’s face darkened. “I’ll ask all the questions I like! Starting with: what have you got in that sheet?”

While she’d been talking, I’d noticed the door to her bedchamber was open. I tugged the sheet to get Grimmon’s attention and gave a nod of my head in the door’s direction. In a flash, the two us had scuttled through it and placed the figure on the bed.

Before I’d straightened my back, I heard Trewla’s footsteps close behind me.

“What’s going on?” she said. “What is that thing?”

She reached past me and flipped the sheet aside. Her eyes widened when she saw the figure of sticks.

I’d intended ask permission for the next step, but to save time, and more arguments, I took the opportunity to pluck a hair from her head.

“Ouch!” She jumped back out of reach, her eyes flashing. “This time you’ve gone too far, buster!”

“You’ll be thanking me soon,” I said, laying the long, golden-brown hair on the figure’s chest. Before she could respond, I intoned the words of the spell.

I took a step back from the figure as the sticks it was made from thickened, merging into one another to create an unbroken surface, like a mannequin carved from wood. The hair I’d laid on it swelled, spreading out like melted wax to cover every inch of the mannequin’s surface. With that, a ripple passed over the figure and it became a lifelike copy of Trewla, lying on her back, clad in a green dress identical to the one the real Trewla was wearing.

Grimmon’s jaw dropped. “It worked!”

I ignored his fatuous comment and said. “Stand back! The spell is active, so whatever you do, don’t touch the figure.”

A strange look crossed Trewla’s face as she stared at her doppelgänger lying on the bed. “I wouldn’t touch that thing with a bargepole.”

“Good!” I said. “Virrellenta will be here soon. We need to hide.”

I looked around the room and, in the last rays of the setting sun coming through the open window, spotted a large, ornate wardrobe. I strode over to it and tugged open the door.

“Quick! Get in!” I said, beckoning the other two.

“Are you out of your mind?” said Trewla. “I’m not doing anything until you tell me what you’re up to!”

Weren’t you listening?” I said, fixing her with an earnest stare. “Virrellenta is coming to suck the blood from your veins!” I gestured at the figure on the bed. “I made that decoy to save your life!”

“He’s telling the truth!” said Grimmon.

Despite the suspicion written all over Trewla’s face, the urgency in Grimmon’s tone seemed to sway her, and she climbed into the wardrobe after Grimmon.

Once we were all inside, I pulled the door partly closed, leaving it open a crack so we could see out.

Peering into the darkening room from the confines of the wardrobe, my pulse pounded at the sensation of Trewla’s shoulder pressing against me. If it hadn’t been for Grimmon’s ripe odour I would have felt like I was in heaven.

I was brought back to earth by the flapping of leathery wings at the moonlit window. A bat the size of a cat flew into the room and fluttered around the bed like a demonic dishtowel caught in a whirlwind.

Worried it would scare off Virrellenta, I was about to leap out and shoo the thing back out of the window, but held back when it landed on the floor. In a heartbeat, the creature’s wings shrank while its body lengthened. Shadowy and indistinct at first, it resolved into a slender, pale woman in a long black dress.

My eyes widened. Virrellenta had arrived. And in style, at that.

Baring her fangs, she stretched out her arms, curled her fingers like talons, and leaned over the fake Trewla.

I held my breath.

In deathly silence, she sank her fangs into the figure’s neck.

Like a striking cobra, the figure sprang to life and wrapped its arms around the countess. She cried out and stood up straight. But the figure went with her, its arms, torso, and legs sprouting thickets of flexible twigs and cords which whipped around her body and bound her in unbreakable bonds.

“Ha!” I crowed, springing from the wardrobe. “The trap is sprung! Got you!”

Still on her feet, the cocoon of sprigs and stems holding her arms and legs tight, Virrellenta fixed me with a menacing stare. “Igor! How could you betray me? Release me or face the consequences!”

I gave her a smug smile. “No. And I’m not Igor. It’s me. I’m back.”

The countess strained against her bindings. “Ignatius? It can’t be!”

“What’s she talking about?” said Trewla. “Who’s Igor? And are you really called Ignatius? Who has a name like that?”

“It’s a long story,” I said. “I’ll tell you later.” I faced the countess and struck a heroic pose. “Your evil plan has failed. We’re going to put you, tied up as you are, outside the castle. When we leave this world, you will remain.”

As I spoke, a few twigs and pieces of cord peeled from Virrellenta’s bindings and dangled loosely. There were still plenty of others firmly in place, so I didn’t pay them any notice, and kept my steely gaze on the countess’ face.

Grimmon tugged at my elbow. “Your spell is going wrong!” he said in a hoarse whisper. “It’s falling apart.”

“He’s right,” said Trewla. “I don’t like the look of this.”

“Don’t be silly. I used only the best materials. It’s merely–” I broke off as, with a hiss like sand pouring from a jug, Virrellenta’s bindings peeled away and dropped to the floor.

She flexed her arms. Her lips stretched into a mean smile and her eyes burned with an unnatural crimson glow as she stared into mine.

“Nobody crosses me and lives to tell the tale,” said the countess, stepping slowly closer. “I am going to enjoy drinking your blood. Savour every last drop.”

I backed away until my back bumped into the wardrobe. Grimmon crouched and squeezed behind my legs.

“You can’t kill me!” I said, holding my palms out towards her. “The castle won’t move any longer if I’m dead. You told me so yourself. Remember?”

It seemed she was beyond caring for she didn’t bat an eyelid and continued her approach.

A flash of movement to one side caught my eye. Trewla was springing at the countess, her arm raised to deliver a blow.

Not taking her eyes off mine, Virrellenta waved a finger. Trewla stopped in midair like she’d hit a wall, and fell in a flurry of limbs.

I quaked in my boot as the countess opened her mouth wide, exposing her unnaturally long canine teeth.

From among the torrent of terrifying thoughts racing through my mind, an image of a page from my spellbook popped to the fore.

Instinct took over. My lips parted and a spell I’d skipped over while searching through my spellbook that morning, issued from my mouth.

My jaw snapped shut and the aether trembled with magic. Virrellenta screeched as her body shook then exploded in a dark cloud of tiny dots which whirled up to the ceiling and circled above our heads, filling the air with their angry buzzing.

“Bees?” shrieked Grimmon, staring at me in horror. “Are you insane?”

There was no time to answer, for in a hurricane of tiny wings, the undead swarm swept around the two of us.

Trewla had climbed to her feet and while Grimmon and I howled, hopping about and slapping at the furious insects, she picked up something that had fallen from Grimmon’s pocket.

It was Igor’s crystal device. The goblin hadn’t left it in my desk drawer after all. He’d probably thought he could get a few shillings for it from some gullible chump at the alehouse.

While Grimmon and I danced about, waving our arms, the bees stabbing their stings like white hot needles into our flesh, Trewla examined the device. She read the label, then turned it over and read the other side.

“Don’t waste your time with that!” I yelled. “It’s useless!”

From my point of view, I would rather she helped with chasing off the bees before their poison overcame me.

I yelled as much at her, but she ignored me and raised the device above her head.

At that, every bee in the room soared upwards, formed into a large ball, and hurtled at Trewla.

Without blinking, she lifted her free hand to the device and twisted the crystal.

Searing white light burst from it and I covered my eyes to shield them.

A second later, the light winked out. I dropped to my knees and took my hand away from my eyes, expecting to see the worst.

But Trewla was still standing. Unhurt.

“Well, that’s that,” she said in a satisfied tone.

There was not a single bee to be seen. The floor around Trewla was coated in dust.

Groaning with pain, I clambered to my feet.

“How did you know the device would do that?” I said, pointing at the dust.

“Didn’t you read the label?” she said.

“Of course I did. It said ‘Twist to activate’.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes. What are you getting at?”

Trewla sighed and handed the device to me. “Here, take this. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone. I’ve had enough for one day.”

While I gaped and struggled to think, Grimmon took hold of my arm and pulled me out of the room. Once we were out in the corridor and Trewla had closed her apartment door, my brain clicked back into gear.

By the light of a nearby torch on the wall, I looked at the device in my hand.

The crystal had gone. All that remained was an indent in the base where it had been mounted.

I read the label again.

“Twist to activate” I read out loud. “Just as I said. There’s nothing here about what it does.”

“We didn’t read the other side,” said Grimmon.

I turned the label over. On the other side were the words: “Crystallised sunlight. Lethal to vampires.”

I snorted and tossed the device over my shoulder. “My spell was better. Not nearly as messy.”

“But it didn’t work,” said Grimmon.

“It mostly did,” I said. “Anyway, I’m hungry.” I patted the top of Grimmon’s head. “Let’s go to the kitchen. I’m sure Cook must have made dinner by now.”

*** The End ***

The Ghastly Exchange – Index of Episodes