Alistair Grim's Odd Aquaticum Read Online Free Page B

prince’s sphere was protected by a purple-and-red force field.
    “You really think such a device will work, Alistair?” Lord Dreary asked.
    “Of course it will,” Father said rather defensively. “If Prince Nightshade can make a spirit prison, so can I.”
    “Please, Uncle,” Cleona said. “You’re making a grave mistake.”
    “I should think if I were, you’d be wailing up a storm by now, wouldn’t you?”
    Cleona sighed and dropped her eyes to the floor. We all understood what Father meant. As Cleona was a banshee attached to our family, if Father’s decision to take Lorcan Dalach prisoner had put our lives in danger, she would have foretold our doom and started wailing at once.
    “But, Alistair,” said Lord Dreary, “you know better than anyone that the future can be altered by even the most insignificant decisions made in the present. What if the Gallownog’s presence here should influence something unforeseen? What if Cleona
does
start wailing?”
    “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
    “You’re all a bunch of lily-livered fools,” Gwendolyn said. “The safest course is to push the blighter out over the sea and be done with him.”
    “Dalach was only doing his job,” Father said. “And so I cannot in good conscience destroy him when he could have so easily done the same to us. After all, he was on board for quite some time before he showed himself.”
    Peeved, Gwendolyn flung more fairy dust at her bubble and then flew up to the lion’s head, where she plopped herself down on its nose and began to pout.
    “As for you, Cleona,” Father said, “how many times these last twelve years have you bewailed my doom only to have it remedied by a simple change of plans?”
    Sulking, Cleona turned her back on us, and I glanced over at the Gallownog. Surely, I thought, his animosity would boil over upon learning just how much she had interfered with Alistair Grim’s destiny over the years. Curiously, however, Dalach’s expression had changed. Gone was the cold hatred from his eyes, and in its place, what I could only describe as pity.
    “So it’s settled, then,” Father said. “We’ll drop off the Gallownog on the Irish coast
after
we make our stop in England. Gwendolyn’s fairy dust will keep him occupied long enough for us to escape back over the sea. And then Nigel shall proceed with the—” Father glanced about the library. “Hang on. Where
is
Nigel?”
    “Begging your pardon, sir,” said Mrs. Pinch, and she whispered something in his ear. In all the excitement, I too had failed to notice Nigel’s absence. Father was about to whisper something back, but then I sneezed.
    “Achoo!
”
    “Blind me,” said Mrs. Pinch. “The Eye of Mars might be good for drying clothes, but it doesn’t stand a chance against the sniffles.”
    Only then did I notice what Mrs. Pinch was talking about. Both Father’s clothes and mine were completely dry!
    “All right, then,” Father said. “Cleona and Gwendolyn shall help me get our prisoner here down to the engine room. Lord Dreary, you accompany Mrs. Pinch and Grubb to the kitchen. I should think a bit of witch’s brew is just what the doctor ordered.”
    And as if on cue, I sneezed again.
    “Come along then, Grubb,” said Mrs. Pinch.
    But as the old woman led me from the library, I glanced over my shoulder just in time to catch Lorcan Dalach smiling fondly at Cleona.
    And much to my surprise, Cleona smiled back.



M rs. Pinch clapped her hands and the kitchen sprang to life. Cupboards swung open of their own accord, pots and pans flew through the air, and all manner of ingredients began mixing themselves into a boiling cauldron upon the stove. Lord Dreary acted as Mrs. Pinch’s eyes, nodding his head and barking “too much of this” or “not enough of that,” and before I knew it, a bowl of steaming purple stew had been set before me on the table.
    “Eat up, lad,” said Mrs. Pinch. “Last thing we need is a sick boy on our