“It’s no use,” Jax says as Ollie cradles Maxine’s head. Kayla rocks back and forth, seemingly oblivious to what’s going on around her. “We can’t break these bars.”
We all watch as Alva gives her gargoyles instructions. She glances in her mirror, and I can just make out the tiny figures in the frame. They must be the royal court, which is being held upstairs with Flora. “Go! Check on them and make sure the magic is holding. After that we can begin the spell,” she tells one of the gargoyles and he flies off only to return moments later. “Grrr…that’s true. You can’t be seen. I’ll do it myself. Harlow, watch them!” She points to Jocelyn. “All of them. If I return and she’s not here…”
“Yes, Alva,” Harlow says, but her voice sounds hollow.
Once Alva’s gone, Harlow walks toward our cell, her eyes on Jocelyn. “I’m so sorry, sister.” The remaining gargoyle paces in front of our cages.
Seconds later, I see a radish roll past me. Harlow peers at it curiously as the gargoyle snatches it. He gobbles it down and drops in a heap.
“That’s one problem solved,” Ollie says cheerily, opening his coat to reveal more radishes.
“Harlow, you know she can’t complete the spell without both mirrors,” Jocelyn says, shaking. There are purple bruises on her hands from where she’s been hit by Alva’s rays. “Give us yours.”
“Your only shot would be to aim my mirror at hers and take both out, but she’ll kill you before you can even raise your arm,” Harlow says. “Besides, the minute she notices my mirror is missing…” Her face crumbles.
“Is there anything else we can use?” I ask.
“No, you fool!” Harlow snaps, whirling toward me. Any sympathy she has for her sister, she doesn’t have for me. Her voice is full of rage, and the deafening sound sends rocks falling from the cracked ceiling. We shrink back. “If there was something I could use to get my sister out of here, don’t you think I would have?”
Jax clings to the bars. “She’s betrayed you the way she’s betrayed everyone else. If you want to save your sister, you have to help us.”
Ollie looks up from where Maxine lies. Her chest rises and falls so I know she’s still breathing, but the bruise on her head looks ugly. “Maybe we could trick her. Give her a phony mirror.”
“How are we supposed to do that, genius?” Jocelyn snaps.
“You could create one,” I say, thinking aloud. “If you can create a dance partner in detention, then you can make a lousy little gold mirror.”
“You conjured up a dance partner?” Harlow asks, and her sister shrugs.
Jocelyn takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. Her lips begin to move, and I feel a sudden gust of wind. Moments later, a mirror that looks much like Harlow’s is in Jocelyn’s hands. I grab it and slide it into the poufy sleeve of my dress.
“Great. So you’ve got a mirror,” Jocelyn says mockingly. “How are you going to get out of here, Cobbler, when my sister can’t make that happen?”
“With my help.” Wolfington walks into the light and Harlow steps back, preparing to do magic. “I think we have bigger problems at stake then you and me, don’t you agree, Professor Harlow?” he asks calmly. “Save the magic for our bigger concern.”
“How can you help, Wolfington?” Harlow says with a sigh.
Wolfington moves closer to our cage, ignoring her. “Students, we don’t have much time. Whatever procedures we had in place to deal with Gottie or Alva are now null and void, thanks to Harlow.”
“Not helping,” the Evil Queen hisses.
“If Professor Harlow can’t break you out, maybe I can break in, but it will be risky.” Wolfington strokes his beard.
“You’re not suggesting…” Harlow is flabbergasted.
“I am,” Wolfington interrupts. “There’s no full moon tonight, but if you help me turn into the Wolf Man, I can break through those bars. Once I do though, none of you will be safe.” I shudder.
Jax smiles grimly. “It’s the only shot we have. We have to take it.”
Harlow looks at me. “You’ll have seconds to take that phony mirror of yours and swap it with Alva’s. You’ll probably get yourself killed trying, but if it gives my sister a chance…”
“Please try, Harlow,” Jocelyn says.
“Glad to see the Evil Queen hasn’t gone soft under pressure,” Ollie mutters.
Harlow looks at Wolfington. “Ready?” He nods. With a flick of her wrist, she produces a bottle of something blue and hands it to our professor.
He holds it up to us in a toast. “For luck,” he says and then downs it in one gulp.