Belle’s Quest (Fairytale Bureau #3)

Chapter 16

16

“The blinking dot stopped.” I poked at the screen and zoomed in on the map. I craned to glance at Agatha lounging in the backseat. “You were right. They went to Stonehenge.”

We had made good time following but were still about twenty minutes out, despite Hannah’s insane racecar-driving tactics. Blame the time it took to walk to the hamlet where we’d parked.

“I don’t think he’ll have acted yet. The full moon isn’t for a few hours,” Agatha murmured.

“Does that make a difference?”

She shrugged. “Maybe? There are many who believe the full moon has power.”

“People also used to think the Earth was flat and there were rain and crop gods.” Despite this new world of magic and curses, I didn’t believe all the folklore that had been passed down over generations.

“You know what’s interesting?” Hannah suddenly spoke up. “We didn’t have a single issue on the drive over.”

I’d not even realized until she mentioned it.

“Because Methuselah thinks he’s won,” Agatha’s low reply. “Why waste his energy when he’s so close to getting what he wants?”

A reminder we had little time if we wanted to save Killian.

“Here’s our exit,” Hannah murmured as she guided us off the highway.

This late in the day, there wasn’t any traffic on the road leading to the visitor center. Nor did we see any people. Just cows and sheep in the green grassy areas all around. Oddly, the parking lot held quite a few vehicles, including one that Agatha pointed to. “That’s my car.”

We parked and exited our ride for a glance around. Late afternoon would soon migrate to evening. I dreaded the moment I’d flip into fur. Especially since I now had the thought in my head that said each time I did, I might be feeding Methuselah.

“Where is everyone?” I murmured. The place appeared deserted. The visitor center, with its massive windows for walls, gave us a view of the inside. Tables, chairs, some knocked over. But no people. Odd for such a popular tourist spot, especially given all the cars and even buses parked nearby. Of more concern, the clothing strewn around. Shoes, pants, shirts, purses. My stomach tightened.

Hannah nudged me and pointed out to the grazing animals. “I do believe our alien wanted to ensure no one interfered.”

It horrified me to realize he’d transformed them all. Innocent tourists with no idea a megalomaniac would ruin their day and life.

“Is it permanent?” I asked, horrified for them.

Agatha had a reply. “If they’ve been storyline cursed, then it will depend on the tale. If he just straight up changed them, then most likely it will wear off.”

“Most likely isn’t reassuring,” I huffed.

“It’s all I have, dear child. Until a few days ago, I’d never even spoken to Methuselah. All this information is new to me, and I have a feeling we’ve barely scratched the surface of what he can do.”

More worrisome, he’d accomplished this as a paper puppet. How much worse would it be if he actually managed to get inside a human body? After all, if our theory was correct, and he needed humans to funnel Earth’s magic, would possessing Killian’s body give him direct access? I really didn’t want to find out.

“We need to get to Killian.” I began hiking in the direction of the stone monoliths, visible in the distance, casting shadows in the dipping sun.

“Hold on a second.” Hannah grabbed me by the arm. “We need a plan.”

I chewed my bottom lip. She had a point. However, my agitation didn’t want to delay. “The plan is to get Killian and Gerome away from the golem.”

“And then?” she prodded.

“I don’t know. Shred the puppet?”

“You seem to have forgotten he doesn’t need that simulacrum to act,” Agatha reminded. “He spent decades like a spider in a web, pulling strings.”

“Perhaps he doesn’t need a body, but what about his rock?” The one that Agatha claimed Methuselah arrived in. The one he’d mentioned and hidden. “Maybe if we controlled it, we could control him?”

“Let’s say we get it, then what? If smashing doesn’t work, then what?” Hannah posed a serious question.

“There must be a way we can contain it so Methuselah can’t act.”

Hannah glanced towards the visitor center. “I wonder if they’ve got a gift box.”

“Cardboard won’t be enough.” I ducked my head to think before exclaiming, “Maybe a bottle of water? Water tends to impede signals, doesn’t it? ”

“Water with some salt,” Agatha suggested. “It’s supposed to be good at containing spirits.”

“I’ll go check and see if they’ve got some kind of thermos for sale in their gift shop.” Hannah’s long stride took her to the only building in sight.

I slumped against the car and tried to not sigh.

“She is right. We can’t rush in without a plan,” Agatha said softly.

“I know. It’s just the more time we waste, the less Killian has a chance to escape before that thing removes his soul and takes his body.”

“You really care for him, don’t you?”

“Yeah. More than expected,” I admitted.

“I knew it,” Agatha crowed. “And you thought I was crazy the night of the ball.”

I glanced at her. “Wait, you knew that would happen?”

“Hoped. I’ve been observing people a long time. Couples especially, given my curse. You might say I’ve acquired a knack for putting the right people together.”

My mouth rounded. “You cast a matchmaking spell?”

“Hardly. My magic isn’t capable of that. More like I nudged you in each other’s direction. And it worked even better than I could have imagined.” She clasped her hands .

Imagined. The word rang in my head, nagging me. I found myself thinking. “You said the rock absorbed the stories from the books it came in contact with.”

“Yes. I wish I’d set it upon my late husband’s book on rocks. That might have saved us much grief. Why do you ask?”

“Are we sure the dark twist in them came from Methuselah?”

“Who else?”

“What if we, those cursed, are the ones warping it?” I thought of the nursery rhyme we’d brought to life, how the storm came when we concentrated on it hard enough. How we’d shaped our own magic.

“It’s very possible. After all, if the curse has people absorbing magic to feed it, then I guess an individual could be using some of that power to influence the outcome and shape of their story.”

“I might have a crazy idea.” I dove into the car and began rummaging.

“What are you looking for?” Agatha asked.

“Something to write with.” Nothing in the car. I eyed the visitor center. “I’ll be right back.”

I sprinted for the building and almost ran into Hannah coming out carrying a stainless-steel tumbler. “Found something,” she chirped. “Filled with water and a shit-ton of salt. ”

“Perfect. Did you happen to see any stationary? Like a pen and paper?”

“I don’t think a last will and testament is going to matter at this point,” Hannah’s dry response.

“It’s for an idea I have. Might not work. Most likely crazy. But we’ve got nothing to lose.” Except our entire world if it failed.

“Ooh, thinking outside the box. I like it. What’s the plan? Going to write a letter to its mommy? Maybe a severely worded cease and desist?”

“I’m going to write its story.”

Hannah blinked. “Er, come again?”

“The curse likes stories, right?” I didn’t wait for her nod or reply. “It absorbs them and then tries to get them to replay, albeit with changes given our modern times. What if the curse absorbed the story of Methuselah’s downfall?”

The suggestion pursed Hannah’s lips. “You’re right. It does sound crazy, but then again, this entire situation is bonkers.”

“It can’t hurt.” I hoped. The way the curse twisted some stories might make this the worst idea ever. Or it might do nothing at all. After all, just writing the story wouldn’t be enough, or every single book in the world would have been in play.

The gift shop had notepads and novelty pens. I perched on a table and began to scribble, writing as fast as I dared given the fact the sun kept sinking lower and lower meaning we ran out of time.

I couldn’t get as detailed as I would have liked, but I managed to get something written that I hoped would work. I tucked the sheet in my pocket and hopped from the table. “Okay, I’ve got it.”

“Wait, aren’t you going to like read it aloud and activate it?”

I shook my head. “Not yet. This whole thing might hinge on us being close enough to Methuselah to act our parts.”

“Parts? Wait, am I in this story?”

“We all are.”

The story of a lifetime. I just hoped it wasn’t our obituary.