The Dreadful Tale of Prosper Redding (The Dreadful Tale of Prosper Redding #1)

So they are trying to lead me to your true name.

Alastor, as expected, said nothing. But I could feel his own thoughts spooling as I loaded the Internet browser.

So. Three people—well, living creatures—knew Alastor’s true name. His brother, who then gave it to Goody Prufrock. And Alastor himself.

And my mother, Maggot, who whispered it into my ear as a child. She’s been gone for centuries, however.

And the only other person who knew Alastor, or at least of Alastor, in our realm was…Honor Redding.

If I couldn’t get access to Goody Prufrock’s grimoire in the Cottage, then maybe Honor’s journals were the next-best thing.

I quickly typed in the address for the Redhood Museum, clicking over to their special-collections section. My great-great-grandfather had bequeathed Honor Redding’s journals to the museum to keep and preserve, and the museum staff had taken nearly a decade to scan and enhance them enough for visitors to read. I’d never looked through them, mostly because I hadn’t cared enough to try.

Someone, at least, had taken the time to transcribe the faded, tiny cursive writing from the scanned pages into normal text below. We arrived in America this day past, and already trouble is upon us….

I skipped ahead, through a number of entries charting rampant sickness, cold, and the colonists’ inability to grow the crops they’d brought with them. The first mention of the tide turning was a hastily scribbled Fate has brought us a boon, we shall survive, we shall survive, we shall survive!

And then four weeks of entries were missing. If that “boon” was Alastor, then the details of his contract with them had been torn out of the journal, if it had ever been noted at all.

What was he like?

You speak of Honor?

I was a little surprised Al answered.

Yeah. He must have been a terrible person to do the things he did.

The malefactor was quiet for a long time before he finally said, The man was a fobbing plume-plucked hedge-pig, but he…When we first met, I…liked him fine. I respected his ambition and the way he led the settlement—these are not easy things, you understand. But he turned out to be the same as all men. His taste for power turned into a hunger, and he was not strong enough to stop himself. It is the nature of human hearts to be weak.

Were you friends? I asked. The portrait of Honor Redding at the Cottage showed a glowering old man, but it had been painted almost a decade after his death. He looked like the kind of guy to go around stomping daises. I couldn’t imagine him having heart-to-hearts with a fluffy white fox.

No! This time, Al answered a little too quickly. I do not form lasting bonds with my future slaves.

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered.

Prosperity, it is not too late for us to leave this place. In four days’ time, my power will be at its peak, and I will be free—which means that whoever is trying to kill me, and therefore you, will show themselves before that. I am willing to make an agreement with you—not a contract in the strictest sense, but a gentlemen’s agreement. If you are willing to escape this village and these people, I will grant your family one year to enjoy their power before I send it crashing down around their ears.

“There you are!”

I quickly closed out the browser before turning in my chair toward Nell. She was panting, her shoulders heaving as she tried to catch her breath. I opened my mouth to ask her what was wrong, but she knocked the words off the tip of my tongue with a swat to the back of my head.

“I’ve been looking all over for you!”

“Don’t you have theater?”

She turned my head toward the clock on the wall. For the first time, I noticed that the library was empty save for me and a librarian reshelving books.

“I lost track of time,” I said.

“No kidding,” she said, grabbing my bag. “Come on—we have to run to catch the bus.”

But the buses, every last one of them, were already gone. The sky itself was darkening quickly, and the only brightness was my white breath fogging the air.

“Okay…I know you said you’d never call for a car…” I started, arms crossed over my chest. I only had on one of Nell’s old fleeces, and it was just barely keeping me warm enough. “But what about calling Uncle Barnabas? Or Missy? Or Mrs. Anderson?”

“He doesn’t have a car,” she said. “We had to rent one to go rescue you.”

Mrs. Anderson had, of course, gone home. And Missy didn’t pick up any of the times we called her.

“We’ll just walk far enough to take one of the city buses,” Nell said.

If she could tough it out, then so could I. It also helped to remember, after walking a few blocks from campus, that I had a built-in internal furnace with Alastor inside me. He might have stunk to high heaven, but at least I was radiating enough heat that none of the snow falling from the trees stuck to me.

We stopped at a corner, waiting for the light to change. A few cars zipped by, two slowing to turn left into a nearby parking lot. And when they did, it gave me the perfect view of the snarling black howler waiting for us across the street.





By the realms…

The walk signal flicked to the white guy and Nell stepped off the curb. My hand shot out and caught her arm, hauling her back onto the pavement.

“Hey! What are you—Prosper?”

Run, run, run, run! Al chanted. I barely heard Nell’s gasp.

“What do we do?” I whispered.

The walk signal began to flash orange, chirping in warning. A line of cars was building up, waiting for the light to turn red. I started backing away from the sidewalk, taking Nell with me. There was a roar of an engine as the white car in front jumped forward with the green light. And by the time the last car cleared, it wasn’t just the one howler that was waiting there for us. It was three.

They all charged at once, ignoring the cars blitzing past. The drivers couldn’t see them as the howlers clawed and climbed their way over their roofs. The people in the cars were freaking out as the dogs’ bodies slammed into them, denting the metal and sending them spinning like toy cars.

That’s when we started running.

Let me—let me take control, Prosperity. I can get us out of this again. Give it to me! Give me control!

“What about Nell?” I gasped out.

“What about me?” she shouted.

The first dog was almost on us, snarling. I felt its acid spit spray the back of my shirt. Nell had wanted it to get that close—she turned, reached into her pocket, and threw a huge handful of dizzy dust right in its eyes.

It skidded to a stop, shaking its huge head and rubbing at it with its paw. The others tore past it and got the same treatment, but they weren’t down as long.

“By my flesh and by my bone, turn this creature to living stone!”

If that was supposed to be a spell, it didn’t do anything.

No spell will harm them, they must be banished back to the Third Realm! Tell her!

“You…believe him?” Nell was panting hard. “We need to get back to school or get home—or Missy’s? Anywhere that has a protection spell!”