Gustav Gloom and the Castle of Fear Page 6
“It is always his choice, Fernie. But the price of this gift I have given him is that he will stay asleep until he has some reason for hope.”
Fernie shuddered. “Please don’t give me the same gift. As bad as this place is, I’d rather not sleep my whole life away.”
“If you are here for any real length of time, you may yet find yourself asking for it. But, no, Fernie; we have too much to talk about for us to take that measure right away.”
The two of them left Hans Gloom to his slumber and went outside to where all good conversations take place in that kind of house, the porch swing. Their surroundings didn’t seem as peaceful as such a place should. On the porch of a real country house, the air smells fresh and the sky feels open and the air rings with the sounds of the local insects and birds. Even on the porch of the real house inside the house that Fernie remembered from Gustav’s home, where the grass was a carpet and the horizon was just a painted backdrop, the house itself had felt like a peaceful and inviting place that had once been warmed by the comforts of family. Here, the air was gray and the sky seemed closed, and the only thing Fernie felt was the oppressive awfulness just outside the illusion Penny’s shadow had created. But she was surprised to find that there was love here, too: the fierce love the shadow woman felt for the man she sheltered and the child she had lost.
For several minutes Penny’s shadow listened intently as Fernie summarized her adventures with Gustav, from the moment of their first meeting to their encounter with Scrofulous. Then she shook her head. “You should have stayed in your world of light, Fernie. Even before Lord Obsidian arrived in the Dark Country and ravaged the countryside with his mad wars of conquest, this was never a place a fallen human being could ever escape. Shadows can pass back and forth with ease, but from here there’s no way for a being of flesh and blood to rise back to the realm of sunlight.”
“There’s always the Cryptic Carousel,” Fernie said, referring to the vehicle she and Gustav had used to get to the Dark Country.
Penny’s shadow shook her head. “How dearly I wish I’d known about the things you say the carousel can do. Back when Gustav was small, and I was just a mother trying to take care of her boy, I never imagined it to be more than a playful amusement-park ride, left in some out-of-the-way room for the children of the Gloom family to play with. Had I been aware of its true powers long ago, I would have found a way to pilot it to the Dark Country and give poor Hans a lift back. But where is that wondrous machine now, Fernie? Do you even have the means to signal it and alert the shadow at its controls to where he can find you?”
It seemed like a million years must have passed since Fernie had last seen it lifting into the sky under the expert hand of Grandpa Lemuel’s shadow. It was, even now, awaiting a signal from Gustav. But Gustav had never specified what signal because he had not known what he and Fernie would find once they entered the Dark Country. Fernie had no useful ideas. So she shook her head.
“So,” Penny’s shadow said, “we are left with the same problem. You should have accepted the loss of your father and sister, and returned to living your life for however long both our worlds survive the destruction the fiend plans.”
“That’s a fine thing for you to say,” declared Fernie, who had put together everything she already knew about Gustav’s past and was pretty sure she’d figured out what chain of events had led to his shadow mother’s imprisonment in this place. “You didn’t have to come here, either. You were the only real loving relative Gustav had. Nobody could have ever blamed you for staying with him and out of trouble. But then you found out where Hans was. And you decided you couldn’t let another day pass without heading for the Dark Country yourself to rescue him.”
Penny’s shadow faced the shadow of the fake lawn, beneath the fake walls bearing the fake farmland, beneath the fake light of the room’s shadow sun. Her profile was delicate and as lovely as the profile of the flesh-and-blood woman must have been, but there was an awful fragility to her, the sense that she could have been blown away by the first angry wind. “Love is like a chain binding you to others. If someone you care about falls into a terrible place, it can pull you in after them.”
This Fernie understood to be true, because it had been the plight of her family that had led her to enter the Dark Country herself. “How did it happen to you?”
“There were always rumors, my dear girl: tales of two men from the world of light who had brought their personal war to the most desolate parts of the Dark Country. I knew they had to be Hans and Howard Philip October. But for many years, Gustav was too small a child for me to abandon, even on such an errand of mercy.”
Fernie said, “You wanted to, though.”
“Of course I wanted to,” Penny’s shadow said. “Penny loved Hans Gloom with all her heart, and while I was with her I saw enough of the man he was to love him just as deeply. But it was always my duty to take care of his son. So for years I did what I supposed he would have wanted, and remained with Gustav.
“But then the nature of the stories coming out of the Dark Country changed. The tales of the good man chasing the bad one became instead tales of the evil man transforming into something far worse than either human or shadow; tales of him beginning his wars of conquest; tales of the good man raising an army of shadows himself, to face the evil one’s forces in a series of battles that left large parts of the Dark Country in ruins.
“Hans had become a legendary hero of the Dark Country by then, one whose courage was admired even by shadows who dwelt in the world of light . . . but even so, I stayed away, because in some of those stories the good man already seemed to have a chance of winning. I stayed with Gustav and told myself that Hans didn’t need my help.”
Shadows didn’t breathe, but Penny’s shadow heaved a deep sigh anyway, before continuing.
“Then, one day, when Gustav was only five, I found out that Lord Obsidian had captured Hans in a terrible ambush and was about to sentence him to this chamber around us, where men are driven insane by the sounds of hopelessness.
“Only I could save my beloved’s mind, by rushing to his side and joining him in his prison, where I could create this illusion to protect him. But to get here in time to make a difference, I had to leave right away. Gustav was off playing in the mansion’s yard, so there was no time to tell him where I was going. I could only stop to tell dear Great-Aunt Mellifluous to take care of him . . . and to keep him safe from the knowledge of where his flesh father and shadow mother had gone.
“I have ached for word of my son ever since, Fernie . . . and until your arrival have had none in all the years I have been here protecting the man who fathered him.”
She fell silent, but it was clear that she still had one last thing, perhaps the worst thing, left to say.
Fernie had learned in her travels with Gustav that even shadows were capable of great fear, and Gustav’s shadow mother wore the awful look of a person who needed to struggle to face hers.
Fernie waited for as long as it took.
After a long time, Penny’s shadow asked, “Tell me, sweet girl, does he hate me?”
Fernie pulled back in astonishment. “What? Who? You mean Gustav?”
“Of course. Does he hate me?”
“That’s the craziest thing I ever— Why would he hate you?”
“For leaving him. For not telling him where I had gone. For never saying good-bye.”
Fernie took both of the shadow woman’s hands and held them tightly. She felt the warmth and the solidity of them even though they were not flesh, and understood for the first time what it had been like for young Gustav to have her as a mother. Fernie found herself missing her own mother, and her father, so much that hot tears spilled from her eyes, and she was barely able to find the voice she needed. “He doesn’t hate you. I promise. He misses you. He never blamed you for anything.”
“Really?”
“Really. Until I final
ly told him to quit it, he never blamed anybody but himself.”
The shadow woman’s eyes widened and for a moment grew shiny with grief and shame and pity. “Oh, that poor lovely boy!”
She might have gone on, but a terrible cry of pain sounded from somewhere beyond the illusion of the house inside the house, chilling Fernie’s blood. It was the rage and indignation of an evil being who had never imagined that any enemy could be capable of hurting him, and though it was one of the worst sounds Fernie had ever heard, it was also somehow one of the best, because it was capable of returning the hope to her heart.
Penny’s shadow was startled into losing concentration: The shadow illusion of the painted room and the porch of the house inside the house wavered, and the awful presences that actually filled this place briefly became visible, their faces drawn and dark and mad.
After what felt like about half a minute, Penny’s shadow managed to regain control of the illusion, and the porch returned, though it now seemed thinner and weaker and shakier than before.
“What was that?” she whispered.
Fernie realized that her cheeks hurt from grinning so hard. “That was the best thing that ever could have happened.”
“What? How could that possibly be—”
The screen door of the country house swung open, and Hans Gloom stepped out.
He looked groggy and wan and confused, and when he saw Penny’s shadow standing with both her fists against her mouth, he brightened for a second or two before seeming to remember that she was just a shadow and that the real woman he’d loved was dead.
His eyes flickered toward Fernie, and though he could not possibly have recognized her, his eyes warmed when he saw that she was flesh and blood. It took him a couple of tries to find his voice. “I’m sorry . . . but I recognized that sound. It’s grown more terrible . . . but I heard a version of it often enough. That was . . . October screaming. Like something had just hurt him. How . . .”
Fernie didn’t waste a moment. She marched right up to him and stuck out her hand. Hans stared as if not quite certain what he was supposed to do, then seemed to remember the proper response and returned the handshake with the awe and wonder that could only come to a man who had almost forgotten the sensation of being touched by another human being.
Fernie said, “Hello.”
Hans’s voice trembled. “Pleased . . . to meet you, miss. What’s your name?”
Fernie beamed. “You’re right. What is my name.”
“What?”
“Exactly. Fernie What.”
“Excuse me. Your name is What?”
Her cheeks ached from the width of her smile. “You grew up living in a house where the shadows walk and talk, and that’s the part you have trouble believing?”
Hans Gloom blinked a number of times, unnerved to see such happiness in such an unpleasant place. “And . . . ummm . . . who are you, again?”
“I’m best friends with your son, Gustav.”
He stumbled over the name. “G-Gustav?”
“Uh-huh. He turned out to be one of the coolest kids ever, and he brought me here to find you and bring you back home.”
“What?”
“That’s still my name. And you heard me right the first time. Your son sent me.”
Shock robbed the strength from his legs. He fell back against the doorframe, which gave off little puffs of gray as the impact disturbed it. “N-no. It can’t be. This is just another of October’s tricks. My unborn son died with Penny.” A glance at the shadow version of his beloved wife, who continued to regard him with undisguised love, and he hastily corrected himself: “I’m sorry. I don’t m-mean you. I mean the flesh-and-blood Penny, of course. The baby died when she did.”
“No, he didn’t,” Fernie said. “He’s alive and he’s terrific and he kicks butt, and you know what else? That scream we just heard?”
“Yes?”
“That’s the sound Lord Obsidian makes when your son catches up with him and takes up the job you started.”
Hans Gloom whipped his gaze toward Penny’s shadow, seeking confirmation of the truth he didn’t dare to believe . . . and after a moment the shadow woman closed her eyes and nodded.
He slid down the doorframe, landing on his knees. “I have a son?”
“Yes.” Fernie grinned. “You have a son, and he’s more amazing than you could possibly imagine.”
“Believe her,” Penny’s shadow said. “It’s true.”
Hans Gloom resisted it for another heartbeat or two, shaking his head as if the news were terrible instead of a reason for hope. He whispered, “I have a son.” Then testing the phrase out, as if the shape of the words felt unfamiliar in his mouth, he said it louder. “I have a son.” The world didn’t end just because he said it, and so he stood up, sweeping Fernie off her feet and lifting her into the air with arms that had suddenly regained their strength. “I have a son!”
Fernie didn’t mind the hug. Hugs were in terribly short supply in this place. What mattered more was something Fernie knew at once, from the tears brimming in the man’s eyes and the joy lighting up a face that had known no joy for far too long: that he was every bit as good a man as he had been advertised to be, and would, if given a chance, be a great dad.
She dearly wished she had more time to let him enjoy the news. But she didn’t, so she hit him with the even more important part: “So you have a son. But now that you know about him, are you going to go back to sleep and allow him to face Lord Obsidian alone, or are we going to break out of here and do something to help him?”
CHAPTER NINE
More Horrible Than Any Man Could Ever Possibly Imagine
Hans Gloom’s smile froze on his face, replaced by a determined grimace. He put Fernie down and turned to Penny’s shadow. “Can we?”
The shadow woman shook her head and backed away a step, as if the mere suggestion was so horrible that the issue could never be considered. “Please don’t ask me that, Hans.”
“If the answer was no, you would have said so already. There’s something else going on, something you haven’t told us yet. Tell me.”
She fell onto the porch swing and shuddered. “You must understand. I was . . . never actually captured by Lord Obsidian. I came here willingly and snuck into this chamber without him knowing. I was here at the moment you were thrown in, and I made sure that you never experienced a moment of this chamber’s torments. He never bothered to check on you, and therefore he never knew that I was here giving you some measure of peace. He never chained me like the ones whose screams were supposed to drive you mad. I was always able to leave.”
Hans Gloom nodded with each new sentence. “You’re Penny’s shadow, all right. You’re as brave and as selfless as she was, and I’ll always love you for it. But if you could always leave, why didn’t you ever go just long enough to find some way to free me?”
Penny’s shadow wouldn’t look at him. She looked as defeated, as miserable, as Fernie had seen her. “Because I’ve always been the only thing that protected you here. If I leave even for a minute or less, all this”—she gestured with her arms, indicating the shadow version of the house inside the house—“goes away, and you’ll be alone against the full effects of this room. I can’t do that. It could destroy you in no time at all. Especially now that I also have the sanity of an innocent girl to think of . . .”
Fernie understood what had kept Penny’s shadow trapped inside this room for so long: the chains of love she had spoken of. “He won’t be alone if the innocent girl is with him.”
Penny’s shadow glanced from man to girl and back to man, desperate to find the words that would allow them to understand. She looked at her hands. “But . . . you don’t know, either of you . . . it’ll be worse than any man could ever imagine!”
Hans Gloom knelt beside the shadow woman and lifted her chin with his finger, t
o make her gaze meet his. “And if you actually believe I wouldn’t willingly go through worse than any man could ever imagine, just to lay eyes on my son and be a true father to him, then maybe you don’t know me very well at all.”
“Or me,” Fernie declared. “I have a sister out there somewhere, and I’m bored with this place.”
Penny’s shadow turned away from Hans and studied Fernie closely, as if looking for some sign of uncertainty or madness. Whatever she happened to be looking for, she didn’t seem to find, because a look of reluctant wonder spread across her lovely features, and she murmured, “So this is the kind of friend my boy Gustav makes for himself. I’m beginning to think . . . that Lord Obsidian’s in big trouble.”
Over the next few minutes, Fernie What and Hans Gloom knelt on the shadow version of the fake lawn that surrounded the house inside the house, and prepared for what both understood to be the greatest challenge of their lives. They held on tightly, knowing that in the next few seconds, staying close to each other might be the only thing capable of protecting their respective minds. Mr. Gloom looped his arms under Fernie’s and reached up with his forearms to hold both hands over her ears; Fernie returned the favor by plugging both of his with her index fingers.
Just to see how soundproof this arrangement was, Fernie chanted a phrase that had always come in handy whenever Pearlie was particularly annoying. “La-la-la-la-la, I can’t hear you.”
Hans Gloom took his hands off her ears. “You just said la-la-la-la-la, I can’t hear you.”
Fernie removed her fingers from his ears. “I don’t suppose you have any cotton balls or earplugs or anything.”
“Sorry. I didn’t get a chance to pack before I fell into the Dark Country. You’re not changing your mind about trying to escape, are you?”
“Nope.”
“Okay,” he said. “So let’s try this, then. Instead of trying to drown out the screams by saying something meaningless, chant the name of something meaningful. Chant the name of somebody who’s depending on you. Think of nothing but that name, and concentrate on saying it, over and over again, as loudly as you can. If the screams get through anyway, you can tell yourself that they’re just a bunch of crazy shadows and that you’ve already faced monsters worse than the likes of them.”