Cloaked (4 page)

Chapter 7

The frog told her he had been enchanted by a wicked witch.

—“The Frog Prince”

“You want me to help you?”

“Oui.”

“Me?”

“Oui.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You must stop saying zis.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just . . . you’re a princess, and I’m . . . nobody.”

She looks down at the shoe I’ve repaired, turning her foot to study it, her eyes shining. Below, the beachgoers are starting to come out. I’ve never seen them from so high. Their towels make the beach look like the patchwork quilt on Mom’s bed. When I look back, Victoriana’s still touching her shoe.

“Your Majesty?” When she doesn’t look up, I say, “Princess?”

“Victoriana. I have something important to say, so you must call me my name. And
non.”

“Non?”

“No. You are not nobody. You are a hard worker, a good boy. I see you, always working. Zat is why I watch you, to see zat you are ze right boy to help me.” She sniffs.

“Of course, I’ll help you. But how?” If she wasn’t a princess, I’d put my arm around her, do something to comfort her. But I don’t. Is it lonely to be so great that no one will touch you?

She answers my unspoken question by grabbing my hand in both of hers and squeezing as if she’s falling and I’m her lifeline. Then she sobs, “It is my bruzzer, my dearest, sweetest bruzzer, he is disappeared. You must find him!”

“Where is he?”

“If I knew zat, I would not need your help.”

I feel my face get hot, so hot even my ears start to sweat a little.

Seeing my discomfort, she says, “
Pardonnez-moi.
I know you do not mean to humiliate yourself, but I am desperate. My bruzzer, heir to ze Alorian throne, he is lost.”

“Lost?” What does she want me to do about it? I mean, not that I wouldn’t walk across coals for the girl, but what can I do that a staff of security guards can’t?

“
Oui
. He disappeared after being placed under a witch’s curse.”

Oh. Of course. The hot ones are always crazy. Nice house, too bad no one’s home.

“You have . . . witches in your country?”

She rolls her eyes in a very un-princess-like way. “Ze witches, zey are everywhere. It is only zat most people, zey do not see.”

I nod, like it makes sense, but I must not do it convincingly enough because she says, “Ze waitress downstairs who has all ze biggest-tipping customers, ze bellman who seems to get ze lightest suitcases. Zis is what witches do. Zey make zere lives easier. I am sure you can think of other examples, something closer to you, perhaps.”

I try to think who she could mean. Then I remember: There are no witches. I nod.

“But ze witches in Zalkenbourg, zey are not so harmless. And my poor bruzzer, he is too foolish to know zat ze village girl he liked was really Sieglinde, ze powerful Zalkenbourgian witch in disguise. He went in her cottage—and poof!”

“Poof?”

“She turns him into a frog.”

I scratch my ear. “Did you say a frog?”

“Oui.”

I look at her a long time, with her fake frown and her fake tears, and I think she’s not as pretty as I thought she was. She obviously thinks I’m a big jerk. I bow, so she can’t say I was disrespectful, and say, “Your Highness, I thank you for bringing me your repair. I hope it’s met with your approval. I need to get back to work now.”

“You do not believe me?”

“I think you’re making fun of me. I know I’m just a peasant. Maybe you got bored with clubs.” I turn away, but it’s difficult.

“
Non.
No. I do not make fun of you. Please. You must see.”

She reaches for a French romance novel, resting on the table beside her. From its pages, she pulls a stack of photographs and papers. “Look.”

I glance at the photo. It’s a guy about my age, handsome with bright red hair and some kind of big mole over his right eye. He wears a military uniform, and he’s smiling.

“Zat is Philippe, before ze spell.” Victoriana points to the mole. “Zis is ze famous Alorian birthmark. It is shared by many great kings.”

She hands me the photo, revealing the second, a frog with a red strip on its head. Like the prince, it has a large spot above its eye.

“Zis is him now,” she says, and I see the tears, glittering on her eyelashes.

It does look a lot like the prince would look, if he was a frog. I gaze into Victoriana’s moist eyes and abandon the ideas that she’s playing a joke on me. Someone’s playing with her is what’s happening. “Someone probably kidnapped the prince and has him captive somewhere. They must have painted the frog.”

“Zat is what we zought may be. So we consulted an Alorian witch, a powerful sorceress who has a magical earpiece. She can communicate with animals—at least, animals who were once human. I talk wiz my bruzzer.”

“You talked to a frog?”

“
Oui.
I ask him questions, questions only Philippe would know, about ze secrets we had as children. It is no doubt to me zis frog is him. And look at his eyes.”

I glance back at the photo. His eyes are, indeed, the same ocean color as Victoriana’s.

Stop! Of course the frog isn’t her brother. Her brother is dead, and she’s crazy with grief. Poor girl. Just shows even rich people have problems.

“It was Philippe himself who told me ze sad facts of zis spell,” Victoriana says. “She turned him into a frog, and he may only break ze spell by ze kiss of one wiz love in her heart.”

“Love?” It seems weird, if the spell was placed by an enemy, that the cure would be love. But then, what about this isn’t totally weird? Clearly, these people are taking advantage of Victoriana’s innocence or maybe—let’s face it—stupidity.

The princess shrugs. “All ze spells say zat, I suppose. We—my parents and I—zought ze problem would be solved easily. My bruzzer is handsome, heir to ze throne, and a playboy. Every girl loves him and would be happy to kiss him, even as a frog.”

“So why not do that?” That would have shown it was a joke and ended it.

She sighs. “Before we could, he disappeared, like I tell you. Poof!” She waves her hands. “My fazzer hunted down ze one who cast ze spell, Sieglinde. She told him my bruzzer was in ze hold of a cargo ship, bound for Miami. We would never find him, and he would never be king. But ze witch promised to reverse ze spell on one condition.”

She stares at her shoes.

“What condition?”

“Zat I would agree to marry ze heir of ze Zalkenbourgian throne.” From between the photographs, she removes a newspaper clipping. The article is in French, but there’s a picture of a blond man, his mouth twisted into a cruel smile, holding what looks like a bayonet over a cowering boy. “Prince Wolfgang is evil to ze core. He visited when I was a small girl, pulling fezzers from my canary and sticking pins in my cat. It is zeir aim for us to marry so zat our countries may unite under Zalkenbourgian rule, but zat is only if I am ze heir. Sieglinde said zey would return Philippe if I agree to marry Wolfgang and Philippe will give up ze throne forever.” She grabs my hand and squeezes it so hard it hurts. “You must find Philippe!”

I listen to the waves make their way to the shore, over and over. The seagulls have stopped crying, maybe chased away by beachgoers. Let me get this straight: There’s a frog loose somewhere in Miami, and I’m supposed to find it. A beautiful woman wants to pull me into her overflowing bowl of crazy. How do I get out of it? Forget the shoes. I just don’t want her to complain to Farnesworth about me.

“Um, you sure you want me? Me?”

“Oui.”
She shows me another photograph, this time of a cargo ship. “Philippe was in zis ship, which arrived at ze port last week. Chevalier, my hound, found his scent in ze hold. My guards questioned ze crew. At first, zey had no memory of a frog. But when my guards pressed furzer, zey remembered zere had been one on a container bound for what you call ze Keys.”

I bet. They got scared of those behemoth guards and said whatever they wanted to get rid of them. The Florida Keys are a string of small islands south—far south—of the mainland, connected by the Overseas Highway. But since I wouldn’t be visiting them anytime soon, I played along. “Why not just let your guards look for him in the Keys then?”

Victoriana rises from her seat. I rise too, but she pushes past me and creeps into the hotel room. She opens the door a crack, checking for intruders. Satisfied, she closes it. Then, she returns to the balcony, shutting the French door behind her. She leans in toward me, whispering, “Ze guards, we believe zere is a spy among zem. We need to find someone no one will suspect is helping us, someone ordinary.”

“That’s where I come in.”

“
Oui.
If you agree, I will tell ze guards zat we have been engaged in a flirtation, a . . . making out. Zey will believe me for zey believe me to be—’ow you say—loose. My father will tell zem we have given up our search for Philippe. I will cry. Ze subjects, zey believe zat Philippe is on a top-secret military mission. And you . . .”

“You want me to look for a frog.”

“A frog
prince.
”

A thought hits me. Even if there’s no prince, hanging out in the Keys sounds a lot more exciting than repairing shoes all summer. But I shake my head. “I’m sorry, Princess, but I have to work. My family needs the money. I can’t just leave.”

The princess laughs. “Oh, if zat is ze only trouble, it is solve. I will pay you—all your expenses and enough money to hire a replacement. And also . . .” She hesitates.

“Yes.” I can’t do this. I can’t. But I want to know what “also” is.

“If you find my bruzzer and bring him back to me, zere will be a reward.”

“Reward?” Money. Money to pay bills. Money for college. “What reward?”

The princess fixes me with a long stare from her ocean eyes. One eyelash is still tipped with a tiny tear, but on Victoriana, it looks more like a diamond.

“If you find Philippe and return him to me, I will marry you.”

Chapter 8

“Marry me? I’m only seventeen.”

Still, she’s beautiful, beautiful and—more important—rich. Marrying her would solve a lot of problems, even if she is nuts.

Victoriana makes a little shooing gesture with her hand, as if my objection is of no importance. “I am a princess. Aloria is a paradise which makes zis place look like ze garbage dump. My husband would never have to worry about ordinary man’s troubles. He would know pleasures zat most men only dream of.” She reaches into her dress, and I think she’s going to show me some of the “pleasures” she’s talking about. But, instead, she pulls out a large wad of bills. Hundreds. “For the quest. You can have more if you need.”

“I couldn’t . . .” I stare at the money, then look at her. The money. Her. I
could.
“Why would you want to marry me?”

“You seem nice. Besides, I maybe should marry
someone
. If I am married, Prince Wolfgang will leave me alone.”

Not very flattering. Still, I say, “I need to ask my mother.” The standard line I used to give as a kid, when I didn’t want to do something. Blame Mom.

She nods. “I knew you were a good boy. You need time to consider whezzer to help a poor girl to reunite her family and save her from ze clutches of an evil prince. So I will give you one day. Zen we will meet.”

“Meet? How?”

She produces a fire engine red Jimmy Choo sandal from under her chair cushion. While I’m watching, she pulls on the strap hard enough to snap it. She gazes at it, despondent.

“My favorite shoe—it is broken.” She sighs. “When you are ready to speak to me again, you will deliver it to my guard to let me know you are up to ze quest.”

“What if I say no?”

She ignores that. “When you do, I will open ze door to my suite on zat night at two o’clock. Bruno will be sleeping, and you may come in to me and get ze magical objects.”

Magical objects?
“Magical objects? You mean, like a wand? Or a cursed necklace I can give to my enemies?”

She laughs. “You do not believe me. You think me a stupid, silly girl.”

Yes.
“No! You’re totally sane. I mean, smart . . . I mean . . .”

“I see you, you know, working every night in your leetle shop, and I see you also, always looking around, looking for something exciting, anything, to get your life out of your mind. Zat is why you work so late, to see me.”

“To see you? No. I work late because I have shoes to repair, lots of shoes.”

“Zat many shoes? I think no. I think business is not so good.”

I realize she’s smarter than I gave her credit for, even if she is crazy.

I sigh. “I’ll think about it.”

“While you are thinking, think also of zis.” She stands and pulls me hard toward her. Then, she kisses me, running her hands through my hair, reaching down to rumple Ryan’s Hollister shirt. Below us, the ocean is pounding like my heart, and my heart is pounding like the drums in a hip-hop song. The gulls are screaming. Finally, she pulls away. “Be my hero, Johnny.”

Her lipstick is smudged. I bet it’s all over my face too. I realize she wanted it to be, to make her guards believe we’re engaged in a make-out session, not discussing my help on a crazy Zalkenbourgian curse. She’s using me. And I like it.

When I can finally speak again, I say, “Uh . . . I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t forget zis.” She holds up the money, then shoves it into my pocket. I shiver at her hand on my leg.

“What if I don’t do it?” I say, though I can feel her kiss on my mouth, the wad of bills in my pocket, her touch, still sending reverberations through my body. She’s right. I want to do it, no matter how crazy she is. It would solve everything, all my problems. If only there were really a frog prince.

Which there isn’t.

“You will do it,” she says. “But you may keep ze money in either case, for your secrecy.”

Then, she pulls me in for another kiss, longer than the first. I feel her hands on me, on my chest, my shoulders.

Then, other hands.

Big hands.

“Enough! How dare you touch ze princess?”

Bruno. He rips me away from Victoriana and shoves me to the other side of the balcony.

Victoriana lets out an indignant cry, then recovers with a laugh. “Oh, Bruno, you must allow me my fun. I am a princess, am I not?”

He says something in French, and an angry conversation ensues. Bruno turns toward me and gestures to the door. “Shoo, shoe boy!”

“Not until I say,” Victoriana says. She pulls me toward her for what I figure will be another passionate kiss, a dangerous kiss, with Bruno watching. But, instead of my lips, she finds my ear. She whispers, “I know you will help me, please.”

Bruno manhandles me out the door of the suite, then to the elevator. He presses the button, shoves me in, and waits until the door closes. All the way down, I feel the shoe in one hand, the bills in my pocket.

When I reach the lobby, I duck into the men’s room stall to count the money.

I almost hurt myself when I total it up.

Ten thousand dollars.