Beyond the Gates of Evermoore

“And how do you know that?” he went on. “Who told you th—”

“I just know.”

Her companion scratched his chin for a moment, staring down at his feet. When he looked up at her again, he seemed determined.

“Tonight then,” he said. “The Lady should be at dinner with us. If the egg’s not with her, we go looking for it immediately afterward.”

“Come hell or high water,” Melody agreed.

Eric looked back at her solemnly. He held up his hand in some kind of promise or Boy Scout’s salute.

“Come hell or high water.”

16

Supper was exactly the same as it was last night… only it wasn’t.

The first thing Melody noticed was that everything was off. Off in ways that didn’t occur to her immediately, but as the night progressed she began to see them. The further she opened her eyes, the more she saw. And the more she saw, the more it alarmed her.

They filed into the dining hall, plopping into the same seats they’d taken the night before. The room was lit by candles again, the other guests still dressed up in their eighteenth century costumes and outfits as if they’d never get sick of their little daily charade. Melody wondered if they actually paid to be here, or maybe were paid to be here… some sort of bizarre throwback roleplay fantasy that only the very rich and very eccentric could ever afford.

It would certainly explain their lackluster performance tonight.

Lurch took his seat at the opposite end of the table, looking glum and silent and eerie. Anabelle sat across from her again, only this time without her daughter. Her face was ashen, her entire expression forlorn. In fact, the more she looked around…

“Everyone here is so miserable,” she whispered to Eric. “Why aren’t these people happy? Do they work here? It’s almost like they have to—”

She stopped dead as the man they were calling Colonel Mustard limped into view. He wore the same coat as last night, only now it looked dull and washed out instead of fresh and crisp. The gilt on his buttons was no longer shiny. The epaulets on his shoulders, frayed.

But then Melody saw the wooden crutch. And beyond that…

“Oh my God! What happened to your leg?!”

The Colonel glanced up at her, but only for a split second. In that short span of time, he shot Melody a scathing look.

The Colonel’s leg was missing below the knee!

How is that even possible?

She didn’t know. Couldn’t know.

It wasn’t like that yesterday… was it?

She paused to think about it for a moment. The Colonel’s legs had spent most of the night under the table, hadn’t they? It wasn’t like she was looking at them. She supposed that much was true…

But no, wait! Then he’d danced! He’d danced his way out of the dining hall, and by then he’d had two legs, right? Melody closed her eyes. Tried to remember. Yes, she knew he did! Knew it as well as she knew her own two legs….

“H—How did… How did you…”

The Colonel sat down with the help of the head of the table, who was apparently back yet again. The middle-aged man seemed even older, if not wiser, but his voice was the same as he raised his glass high.

“The Lady of the House will not be joining us tonight,” he said glumly. “She is unfortunately unwell, but sends her best regards.”

Melody’s mouth dropped open. She wasn’t sure if she was more pissed at missing Lady Neveux again, or more shocked by the man’s repeat performance.

“This isn’t right,” she told Eric. “Maybe she’s avoiding us. Maybe she knows we want—”

“Shhh…”