CHAPTER SIXTEEN

RETURN OF OWEN

Abby found Alexander kneeling over a body and holding a limp hand. Shallow breaths came from the severely injured man. His clothes were tattered, and scratches oozed blood on his stomach, legs, and arms. Alexander whispered into his ear, but Abby couldn’t hear him. Sweat rolled down her face because she knew the injured man… and he could tell Alexander who she was.

“I told him I forgave him,” Alexander announced, but didn’t look up.

Abby was afraid to ask why the man needed to be forgiven. Fortunately, Alexander continued talking.

“He told me he was supposed to arrest us and the leprechauns.” He finally looked up at Abby, who was now standing over his shoulder. “He mentioned you.”

“He’s probably just delusional,” said Abby, kneeling and peering at the victim. “He doesn’t look well. Did he say what happened to him?”

Alexander shook his head. “That’s what makes little sense. He was camping outside the castle a few days ago, on his way to arrest me. Then he fell asleep, and that was the last thing he remembers before waking up, surrounded by squirrels. He said the squirrels did this to him. There must have been a million of ‘em.”

Abby decided this wouldn’t be the best time to tell Alex about giant pond squirrels. “Are they still in the park?” she asked innocently, not wanting to frighten him.

“That’s the weird part. He told me a rat came by and squeaked something to them, and the squirrels got all agitated and ran off with the rat. And the only talking rats I know of were at the café—”

“The rodent might be a different rat,” Abby interjected, and placed her hand on Alexander’s shoulder. “It’s most likely a coincidence.”

“Do you think so?” Alexander asked, doubtful.

“Sure, why not? Shelley’s rats aren’t the only ones in town.” She sounded almost convinced, but the look in her powdery blue eyes proved she knew better.

“Tell the truth,” said Alex.

“Yah, I don’t think so either. We’re just doomed,” she confessed.

Blood dripped from the injured man’s nose. His eyes popped open, but focused on nothing. His hand feebly reached for Abby. “Nola, tell your father I tried.” His hand fell to his side, and his breathing became shallow, and then stopped.

Alexander looked at Abby with a blank stare, “He called you Nola. Who’s your father?”

“He’s delusional. That happens just before you die,” she lied. “My dad is a nobody,” another lie. A tear escaped her eyes. She wanted to tell Alexander that Owen bounced her on his knee when she was a toddler, but was afraid of what he might think.

Owen struggled to raise his head, followed by a chorus of coughing, “The King.”

Alexander’s eyes widened. He thought the man died. “He said your father is the King.”

“He said no such thing,” Abby snapped.

It didn’t help her case when Owen struggled to raise his head once again and pointed his quivering finger at Alexander. “Princess, you must arrest that boy. It’s your duty to your father.” Owen’s eyes crossed, his face contorted, and his tongue fell out of his mouth. His last ghost of breath escaped him, and his head fell to the ground with a thud.

Alexander stood up and walked away without saying a thing. He whirled around as Abby followed and halted her with a wave of his hand.

“Wait,” she pleaded, but Alexander kept walking. “You can’t trust a dying hobo’s last words.” She knew Malley would tell Alexander whatever truth he needed to know when the time was right. This was far too soon.

“Don’t you trust me?” she yelled in desperation.

Alexander stopped in his tracks and clutched his hands into balls by his side. He spun around. “Trust you?” His teeth clenched. “Let’s see. I’ve been threatened by witches, rats, and farmers. I’m hungry and tired. Then some homeless dude calls you princess, so NO, I don’t trust you.”

Abby did what girls young and old have been doing since the dawn of time. She broke down in sobs; slow at first, but up to a full-blown cry within seconds. Alexander reacted as every male who ever drew a breath, his stoic exterior crumbling around him, like all men or boys before him. He didn’t know what to do, and helplessly uttered the universal words, “Please don’t cry.” Then he hugged a girl for the first time in his life, with no need to throw-up.

                                                                 

“Please trust me,” Abby continued to sob on Alexander’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t ever harm you.”

He patted her back as if it were a cactus, but still attempted to comfort Abby. He was in new territory, and to his surprise, it wasn’t as disgusting as he thought. He might even learn to enjoy hugging in thirty or forty years.

“We need to do something with the body. Bury it or something.” Alexander broke away from the hug. The body was gone. “Where did it go?” Alexander dropped to his knees, feeling the damp ground.

Abby shrugged her shoulders.

“It was here. Right?” He dusted off specks of dirt from his hands and shirt. “What do we do now?”

Abby paced in the spot where the body had laid. She wrung her hands together and shot them into the air, alternately. She paused and looked at Alexander with a lost expression before continuing her pacing.

“I’m just a kid.” Alexander’s eyes followed Abby. “You’re the closest one to being an adult, and you’re a princess.”

She whirled to face him. “A what?”

“Nothing.” Alexander pecked at the ground with the toe of his shoe. “You’re the oldest, so you need to be the boss.”

                                                                 

The sound of rustling of the leaves on the trees froze them. There was no place to hide. The park stood shrouded in purple darkness. The scary rustling crept closer. Abby motioned for Alexander to get behind her. He resisted at first, complied when the sounds came from behind a tree. She was a witch, after all, and he was only a boy.

“It’s about time we found the two of you,” a voice bellowed out from the darkness.

“You guys don’t make it easy to rescue you,” another voice followed.

Alexander smiled as he recognized the voices. Abby wasn’t so sure. She knew others would stop at nothing to prevent them from completing their quest. She also knew her father controlled most of “the others” in question.

A small puff of light emulated from Abby’s hand. She knew it wasn’t enough to harm anyone, but it might startle the voices. At least, startle them long enough for an escape. She jumped as Alexander touched her shoulder, sending the puff to explode into the tree.

“It’s O’Toole and Malley.” He rushed from behind Abby into the darkness before Abby could stop him.

“Wait,” she yelled, “There are some creatures known to mimic.” It was too late. Great, I’ve lost the boy for the second time today, she thought. This won’t look good on my resume.