Alistair Grim's Odd Aquaticum Read Online Free Page A

pressed the secret button on the mantel and the lion’s head swung back into place, its eyes ablaze again with light from the red orb hidden in the wall behind them.
    “Sorry we didn’t get here sooner, Alistair,” Lord Dreary said. “But when Mrs. Pinch and I heard you on the talkback, it took us a moment to put it all together.”
    “Not me,” Gwendolyn said. “I know a bully when I hear one.”
    “A bully, indeed,” Father said, locking eyes with the banshee. Then he pressed another button on the mantel and a roaring red fire flooded the hearth. Father motioned for me to join him there, and as soon as I did, my entire body was warm again.
    “So what’s to be done with this…this…bounty hunter?” Lord Dreary asked, and Gwendolyn flew off her stack of books and hovered close to the bubble.
    “Push him out over the sea,” she said. “Leave the bully to the same fate that he would’ve left for us.”
    “Come now, we’re not barbarians,” Father said. “Besides, holding a Gallownog prisoner might come in handy should his comrades come looking for him.”
    Lord Dreary nervously fingered his collar. “You mean there are others of his kind out there?”
    “Most certainly. Our friend Lorcan here is a soldier in the Order of the Gallownog, an elite fighting squad charged with enforcing the banshees’ strict code of behavior, as well as the assassination of their enemies.”
    “Good heavens,” Lord Dreary said weakly.
    “And speaking of banshees,” Father added, gazing round, “you can show yourself anytime now, Cleona.”
    And with that, Cleona—eyes hard and fists clenched as if readying for a brawl—materialized just outside the doorway to the parlor.
    “Nothing to fear, darling,” Father said. “You’re perfectly safe now that the Gallownog is trapped.”
    Cleona drifted slowly into the library and Lorcan Dalach stiffened. “We meet again, Cleona of Connacht,” he said coldly. The banshees held each other’s gaze for a moment, wherein something seemed to pass between them, and then Cleona joined Father and me near the hearth.
    “My presence here has compromised our safety,” she said.
    “That’s hardly anything new,” Father chuckled. “For twelve years now I’ve endured the dangers of living with a banshee. I should think Lorcan here would be a stroll in the park compared to you.”
    “You don’t understand,” Cleona said. “The Order of the Gallownog will stop at nothing to bring me back, and they don’t care who they hurt in the process. And so we need to turn around at once and return Dalach to Ireland.”
    “I’m afraid we haven’t the time for that, love. We must arrive at our destination before midnight or my plan for defeating Prince Nightshade won’t work.”
    “Hear, hear, now,” said Lord Dreary. “I think it’s high time you told the rest of us what you’re up to, Alistair. Your secrecy on the matter has been quite unsettling these last few weeks.”
    “All good things to those who wait, old friend. As I’ve explained, if the prince should learn of my plan before we arrive, I assure you, it will mean the end for us all.”
    Lord Dreary exchanged an exasperated look with Mrs. Pinch and dragged his handkerchief across his clammy bald head.
    “But you can’t keep the Gallownog prisoner, Uncle,” Cleona said. “Gwendolyn will have to return to the engine room sooner or later. And when she does, her bubble of fairy dust will dissolve and he will escape.”
    “I am well aware of that, Cleona. Which is why I intend to build a mechanical version of Gwendolyn’s prison bubble myself. In fact, ever since Master Grubb told me about your captivity in Nightshade’s castle, I’ve been tinkering with just such a contraption down in the engine room.”
    “Cor blimey,” I gasped. Prince Nightshade had thrown me in a dungeon, but Cleona had been imprisoned in a sphere similar to the ones Father used to harness magical energy from his Odditoria—only the