Pickwick struggled against Axel's grip, trying to free himself. He also looked like he wanted to tell them something. Lucy saw but didn't care. If he was supposed to tell them something then why did Charmwill turn him into a mute parrot?
"Grip him harder, Axel," Lucy demanded. "Or we'll lose the most precious information I ever came across."
Axel did, trying to look away from Pickwick again, or his heart would melt and he'd let him go. "I wanted to ask you something," he told Lucy. "If you're so infatuated with the Queen of Sorrow, then why are you reading her diary?"
"I'm infatuated with her because I want to be like her," Lucy said. "If I have a diary that will teach me how to be like her, then I have no use for Carmilla anymore."
"That's some wicked logic," Axel murmured. Lucy knew Axel wasn't on the Queen's side by any means. He only did this because he couldn't believe Lucy Rumpelstein had called him and told him she liked him. Lucy was planning to get rid of him once she read the diary. "You know Charmwill called Pickwick the Book of Beautiful Lies, right?"
"Yes, Carmilla told me. Why?"
"I mean, anything written in here could be only lies," Axel remarked.
"Nah." Lucy cocked her head. "Carmilla told me it was one of Charmwill's tricks. He called it that so people would think they are lies." Lucy had asked the Queen of Sorrow all she needed to know this morning. "In reality, Pickwick holds the truth of all fairy tales. That's why Charmwill had him muted, I think."
"That's news to me. How are we going to turn Pickwick into a book, then?"
"The Queen told me that too." Lucy grinned. "Just hold the damn parrot tight." She looked the poor Pickwick in the eyes and said, "Tic to tic tac toc!" knocking on the parrot's beak with each syllable.
Suddenly, Pickwick's eyes turned to stone and his body contracted. His wings turned into two folds of a book, and his beak into an obsidian lock, which Lucy knocked on, using the same words to open it.
Axel stood with glaring eyes, enchanted by the magic. Instantly, he went to flip through the pages, but Lucy stopped him.
"What are you doing?" she snarled. "These are pages of sand. You can read them only once in a lifetime."
"But how are we going to find the Queen of Sorrow's diary?"
"She told me how to." Lucy pouted and snatched the Book of Beautiful Lies from him. She waved her palm over the open book and said, "Jawigi."
Axel was obviously impressed by the connection. He watched the book turn its pages, stopping at one page. Lucy neared it and read:
Carmilla Karnstein's diary, written on Hallows' Eve 1803.
Lucy's heart pounded, and she exchanged glances with Axel. "You can go now," she told him.
"What? Why?" he said. "You're not planning to read it alone. Besides, I could help with analyzing a lot of secrets. You know I am good at it."
Lucy thought about it for a moment and sighed. "All right." She turned her eyes back to the book, took a deep breath, and turned the first page. She began reading:
9
The Queen's Diary
All Hallows' Eve,
10th Year in the Reign of King Angel Von Sorrow.
1803 AD in the Waking World.
1 Day until the Eclipse.
Dear diary,
Sitting here in my royal chamber, I am trying to force my trembling hands to keep on writing, for what I am about to carve on paper is full of sadness and sorrow and surprises I don't think anyone can truly comprehend—or believe.
All night, I have been staring at the full moon outside my castle's window. My desire was to "meditate"—a spiritual practice my husband, Angel Von Sorrow, taught me a long time ago. It means to relax and clear one's thoughts for a few minutes so that you feel at ease with yourself in spite of all the pressure surrounding you. Angel used to call it Chanta, and practiced it alone in the forest when he needed to stifle the urge of sucking someone's blood and fully transforming into a ruthless vampire like his father.
I needed to meditate so I can stand the suffering and sorrow of the words I am about to write. I will try to document my story as vividly and honestly as possible—if there is such a thing as a "true story"; we all know that we unconsciously insert our own lies and inaccurate memories in every tale we tell.
And where better to look up to when meditating but the moon. The beautiful moon of the Kingdom of Sorrow.
Dear moon, for the sake of all the secrets we share, please shine your light on me as I am confessing this. I am in desperate need of all the light I can get tonight. Please strengthen me through this diary and gift me with the bravery to finish it.