The sound of the Doom Bell cannot be described, only its effect: the bone shaking, blood freezing, mind breaking wave of sound that coated the tongue in a coppery tang and sent brains scrambling for emergency shutdown. It was a sound that made all who heard it feel as they had on the worst days of their lives, all at once, amplified a thousand-fold.
Except to the Heterodynes, who felt the vibrations like a warm embrace and the song like a thousand voices calling them home.
Agatha’s first emotion, as the people of Mechanicsburg slowly got to their knees – or fell over and threw up – was relief that they believed her. Then she was relieved that she only felt relief, and not wicked glee at the thought of those who once mocked her now cowering before her. The thought of tormenting those who had tormented her did occur but she recoiled from it immediately, instinctively.
She hadn’t even wanted to say the ‘tremble before me’ line; she’d just been afraid the castle wouldn’t ring the bell if she didn’t.
Thank you, Grandmother, she thought fervently, for making sure I didn’t immediately go mad with power.
The Jägers – who did not know her, who had never seen her have a crying breakdown over a complex algebra problem, and thus had no reservations or preconceived notions about her, who knew only this, her moment of triumph – began to cheer.
Imagine being surrounded by several hundred people who think everything you do is the greatest thing anyone’s ever done, Grandfather had said.
He had been right – it did feel nice.
They came swarming over the walls and through the gates, laughing with delight at the very sight of her.
“Generals!” she called. Three – no, four very large Jägers pushed their way through the crowd. She recognized them from her grandfather's descriptions: Goomblast, Khrizhan, Zog, and Gkika. They all looked up at her, expressions unreadable. “I couldn’t see from the castle. What is the status of my army?”
A ripple passed through the Jägers; the generals glanced at each other. Agatha wondered if she had said something wrong or something right.
“Dere iz injuries,” called Goomblast. “But no deaths. Der kestle ken deal vit der remainink forces.”
“Excellent. Thank you all for coming so quickly. Things would have gone much worse without you.” She hesitated, wondering if it was a Heterodyne thing to say – and realized that if she said it, it was a Heterodyne thing to say. “I look forward to meeting all of you.” Agatha smiled brightly. “Welcome home.”
The Jägers cheered again, and this time, the townspeople began to join in. The crowd dissolved, shopkeepers disappearing into their stores and coming out with food or drink; older generations welcoming home old friends and introducing their wide-eyed children; a surprising amount of kissing.
“Agatha!”
Agatha lit up at the sight of Teodora and Saturnus. Without being asked, the castle created a sharply curving set of stairs that brought her down to the ground where she could throw herself into the arms of her grandparents. They both hugged her fiercely.
“I did it,” Agatha said breathlessly. “And I—I hope it’s okay, but I think I can do this, I want to do this, and I’ve got you and the castle and—”
Teodora put a hand on Agatha’s cheek. She had tears in her eyes, but her smile was brighter than Agatha had ever seen it. Saturnus, too, had eyes that were overbright, holding her hand tightly and grinning with a genuine happiness that contained almost no evil at all.
“You did beautifully,” Teodora said.
“We’re so proud of you,” Saturnus said.
“You’re grounded,” they said.
“ What!”
“What in the world were you thinking, running into the castle like that?” Teodora scolded. “You put yourself and Tarvek in mortal danger!”
“You took the castle out of commission in the middle of a battle!” Saturnus continued sharply. “You hamstrung our already hamstrung defenses for almost a full day!”
“You can’t ground me, I’m the Heterodyne!”
“Oho, just you watch us, young lady,” Saturnus said.
“You are allowed out for school and your responsibilities as leader, but that is it. No library, no market trips, nothing.”
“For how long?” Agatha demanded, aghast.
“ Until we say so ,” they chorused.
“Agatha!”
Gil and Tarvek came tearing down the road, waving wildly. Agatha pulled away from her grandparents and met her friends halfway, the three of them colliding in a massive hug that nearly sent them toppling to the ground.
“You were amazing,” Gil said, starry-eyed.
“I told you you could pull it off,” Tarvek said. “ Perfect abandoned lab chic.”
“The cape did look great,” Agatha admitted. She glanced around. “Where’s…?”
“Back in the cellars where we first came in,” Tarvek said. “The prisoners got it connected to the main intelligence, so we can go in safely.”
“Grandfather,” Agatha called over her shoulder. “We need your help with, uh...one of our friends . He was injured by one of the castle’s defences. ”
Saturnus grew concerned.
“How bad?”
“He was conscious when we left him, but it can’t wait,” Tarvek said.
A shadow fell over Saturnus. Very slowly, he looked up to see all four Jägergenerals glaring down at him.
“Master Saturnus,” Gkika said icily. “Ve vould like a vord.”
“Time to face the music,” Teodora muttered.
“In a minute,” Saturnus said.
“ Now vould be good,” Goomblast said in the same icy tone.
“I have to take care of this first.”
“Send de doctor to take care off it, if it iz so bad,” Zog snapped. “Ve—”
“My lady!” the castle cried. “Good news! We have located Prince Sturmvoraus! He has been dealt with most soundly!”
“What’s the bad news?” Saturnus demanded immediately. “You never say it like that unless there’s bad news.”
“Captain Vole is currently bleeding to death in the nice sitting room and my lady has yet to press-gang a suitable cleaning staff. Once the blood dries, it’ll be simply impossible to get it out of the upholstery.”
A cold prickling washed over Agatha, her breath growing tight in her lungs.
“Okay, okay, um, we, we need—surgical supplies and—and—what was it, what—what did you tell me about, for the Jägers, the—”
“Battledraught?”
“That! Yes! Do we have any of that? I need it, right now, someone bring it into the castle.”
Zog snorted.
“Ve’z not gon vaste it on dot vun—”
“I gave an order.”
A door opened within Agatha’s mind, and it led to something beyond the madness place. This was where the Heterodynes had thrived, the place that housed the wicked deeds the waking mind must justify, and from it emerged something new and dark and sharp and dangerous.
Agatha grabbed it, this wild thing that demanded obedience and craved power, that saw the world as a toy to break and fix as she pleased. It fought, thrashing in her grip, screaming for blood, for retribution against the sin of defying her whim. Her ancestors had let it run free; her father had locked it away; Agatha lashed it to the anvil, hammered down with all her will again and again, not beating it back but shaping it, iron in the forge, not a weapon, not a shield, but a tool .
A tool that would sit in the workshop of her mind. She would leave it nestled tidily alongside the ones her grandparents had given her: compromise, patience, intelligence, a well-placed punch, a wide range of bullheaded defiance in shades of good and not so good. It would be a tool that she would use when it was appropriate, but one she would use, and keep, and care for because it was her, and would always be her.
And it would obey , this darkness of her blood, strength of her name, because she was the Heterodyne, and she said so.
“You do not choose who lives or dies in this town. I do. Bring me the battledraught.”
She did not wait for any answer, but turned on her heel, cape flapping behind her, and strode up the road towards the castle, her grandfather behind her.
The nice sitting room was nice. The chairs and couches looked well-stuffed and soft; the carpets were thick and plush. There was a fireplace in the back, the perfect distance from the seats to keep you warm without overheating those closest. A small fire burned there now, making the room comfortably warm.
It was hard not to think about how it was a good place to curl up and die.
Vole wasn’t curled up, exactly, but sprawled over a couch that was so large he fit with room to spare. Only by very careful examination could one differentiate between the bandage and the remains of Vole’s jacket, as they had both been white and were now equally dyed in crimson wet. It wasn’t just the shoulder anymore – he had several stab wounds, deep and fresh, across his torso, many very close to important organs.
His hat, somehow still spotless, was set carefully on the corner of the coffee table, within easy reach but out of danger of being stepped or bled on.
“I’ve seen worse,” Saturnus said.
“That’s not funny,” Agatha whispered.
“I’m not kidding,” he said. “I once stitched up a Jäger who’d been cut in half and he was walking around like nothing had happened barely two weeks later. He’s just being dramatic, aren’t you, Vole?” Saturnus raised his voice slightly.
“Ken’t a guy effen die in peace,” Vole rasped, not opening his eyes.
“You’re not dying .”
“Got me in...in der back. Hit sometink important, Hy tink.”
Agatha grabbed the end of the coffee table and pivoted it around to make room for her and Saturnus, though she was careful to keep the corner with Vole’s hat close enough for Vole to grab, if his arm was still working.
Saturnus put his hands on Vole’s side and rolled him up slightly. The entire back of Vole’s jacket was soaked through, and no matter how skilled the cleaners Agatha pressga– hired, there was no undoing the damage to the fabric.
“Ooh. Yep. We better get a move on.”
Agatha helped her grandfather peel Vole out of his coat and shirt. The smell of blood was almost overwhelming, and she felt her stomach roll at the mangled mess of Vole’s shoulder.
“Black fire , how did you pop this many stitches at once?”
“Not my fault,” Vole grumbled. “Shtupid Geister lady hit me dere a couple times.”
Saturnus tutted.
“Let’s get some pressure on these so he doesn’t bleed out while we work." Staunching the wounds did not require fine motor skills, and Saturnus' hands moved with a quick efficiency that Agatha envied. "Alright, Vole, what do you have to say for yourself?”
“Hy remembered dot de Geister lady said dot it vuz a good ting she found de kid forst, becawz his poppa might heff let him live.” His voice was rough and distant. “Hy vuz tinking about it, und Hy realized mebbe dot means he is in here , lookink for de lady. Only a few places left der kestle can’t see, und if he gets out, ve might not be able to find him.”
He cut off with a groan as Saturnus rolled him onto his side.
"Judging by the location, I think he managed to nick your liver."
"How do we fix that?" Agatha asked, horrible visions of performing invasive surgery on a concious subject flashing before her eyes.
"We don't. When it comes to Jägers, if it doesn't kill them immediately, they can probably bounce back. Since it's no longer actively gushing blood, it's probably sealed itself back up again already. That means all we have to do is close the gap. Come here, m’lady, I need your hands."
Agatha knelt beside him and took the needle and thread he passed her.
“Careful now. In here and out there – just like that, well done. Pull tight but not too tight, like this, and then back in again. Attagirl.”
“I don’t think I’m very good at this,” Agatha said, her voice shaking, though she kept her hands as steady as she could. The stitches were uneven and the knots untidy.
“No one is on their first try. Don't worry about it – it doesn't have to be pretty, it just has to work.” He sighed and muttered to himself. “I knew I should have taught you this earlier.”
“Why didn’t you?” she asked.
“Because it’s gross and I don’t like it.”
She burst out laughing, but he put a gentle hand over her mouth.
“Surgery first, then hysterics. Hey!” He put a hand on Vole’s head and ruffled his hair, hard, until Vole’s eyes opened again. “Stay awake. Then what happened?”
Vole grunted.
“Found him. Killed him. Had der kestle drop him in der freezer.”
"And you let him stab you this many times?"
Vole grumbled.
“He vuz faster den he looked. Und Hy vuz tired.”
“Alright, on your back. Let’s get at the rest of them.”
Vole fell back. His eyes began to close again.
“Hy’z tired,” he whispered.
“Up!” Saturnus patted his cheek roughly. Vole forced his eyes open. Even this close, Agatha couldn't differentiate between pupil and iris, or even tell if there was one, but somehow she could tell when his eyes focused on something over her shoulder. Vole's mouth twitched in a humorless smile.
“Dun vaste hyu energy,” he said. “Hy’z gun be dead in ten minutes anyvay.”
Agatha looked behind her. The generals had arrived, looming in the doorway. Higgs was there, too, dwarfed by his younger comrades. Gkika was holding a green stone bottle. She crossed the room and knelt beside Agatha. When she twisted the cork out, the air filled with a licorice scent so thick Agatha could taste it.
When she held it towards Vole, however, the Jäger leaned away from her, lip curling.
Between them, they got Vole upright enough to drink deeply from the bottle – not the whole thing, but a few large swallows. When he lay back again, he was still ash-pale, but he looked slightly more alert, and his breathing was more even.
Gkika recorked the bottle and picked up another needle and thread from the medical kit. Without a word, she got to work on Vole’s shoulder.
“Vy not let der kestle deal vit de prince?” Khrizhan asked, abruptly. “If he vuz in here.”
“Because der kestle ken’t see ,” Vole groused. “All doze Smoke Knights vuz in here, und it din’ find dem until it looked.”
“Unfortunately true,” the castle admitted. “I can just about manage to be here and down in the town at the same time, but I am having difficulty spreading my consciousness uniformly across my boundaries.”
“Maybe de prince kills his kid und leaves, or maybe he tries to grab der lady. Dun know if ve found all der Geisterdamen. Maybe he vaits a few days til ve relax. Hy’z not gon vait to find out.” Vole glared at Khrizhan, sullenly. “Vut hyu vant from me? Hy kept my Heterodynes safe. Both of dem.”
“Hyu’z not a Jäger.”
“Hyu can kick me out of der pack,” Vole said, eyes sliding shut again. “But Hy have my oath. Hyu can’t take dot from me.”
The world grew far away and strange. Some part of Agatha could hear Saturnus talking, and that part followed his instructions, but the rest of her watched, confused, as stitches seemed to march themselves across Vole’s skin.
And then gentle hands were wiping blood off of her hands with a warm, damp rag.
“There you go. He’s all set. Just needs to rest. So do you.”
Something heavy wrapped around her shoulders, so heavy it dragged her down into a deep and dreamless sleep.
Just...fascinating. He says he's renounced the troth. It wasn't his idea to leave. He hates the Jägers. He wants a new pack. Not an army; explicitly, specifically, a new pack of Jägers. He tried to kill Bill and Barry for failing to be proper Heterodynes. He has no loyalty to the Heterodynes. He tries to kill Agatha without waiting to see if she is one of the old Heterodynes.
I have a pair of binoculars and I am observing this man from a distance. What is wrong with him. Other than the everything.
One comedy trick I love is when Character Number One says Character Number Two is in a certain location, and when Character Number Three, confused, asks what they're doing there, Character Number One snarkily replies 'They're [doing thing that typically happens in that location].'
