Return to the Isle of the Lost (12 page)

She knocked on the heavy fortress door. “Mom?” she called nervously. “Um, it’s me? Evie! Are you there?”

“It looks deserted,” said Carlos, glancing askance at the cobwebs and dust.

“Oh, it always looks like this,” Evie assured him. “Mom’s big on personal maintenance, but housekeeping, not so much.

“Let me see if I can find the key,” she said, walking over to the nearest wall and feeling for a brick that had come loose. “Here it is,” she said, holding up an ancient rusted key. “Maybe she’s out getting ready for the Anti-Heroes meeting?”

“Maybe. Wow, this place really looks like no one’s lived here for centuries,” said Carlos as they walked inside.

Evie bristled. “It’s the height of Gothic style!”

“More like the bottom of it,” said Carlos, scrunching his nose.

“Okay, fine, maybe it
is
a bit dark and dreary,” said Evie, who had never been too bothered by the gargoyles and cobwebs until now. She looked around. Hmm. Maybe Carlos was right. It was a little dustier than she remembered. She took another step and sneezed.

“I’ll wait here,” said Carlos as Evie went off to check the bedrooms.

“Mom?” she called, gingerly stepping into the Evil Queen’s room. Her mother kept it the way it had always been, when she had been queen of her kingdom and bent upon destroying Snow White. There was a dark silhouette in the middle of the room where the Magic Mirror used to hang before it had been broken into pieces, and a little podium in front of it where her mother would pose and preen, as if the mirror were still there to showcase her reflection.

The closet doors were open, blue gowns and black capes in disarray, white ruffs strewn over the floor. Her mother’s traveling trunk was missing from the topmost shelf, and from the looks of the mess, Evil Queen had packed in a hurry. That was odd; where had she gone? Didn’t she have to be back in time for the meeting tonight?

Evie noticed something else. In the center of her mother’s dressing table was a large ebony box, one that Evie knew well. Her mother had schooled her in the art of beauty regimes from the pots and brushes, paints and blushes, eye makeup, foundation, and mascara in that very chest.

It was strange. Her mother had left behind her most prized possession? Where could Evil Queen have gone without her makeup?

Evie walked down the grand staircase, still sneezing from the dust. She couldn’t believe they had lived this way for so long, forgotten and unloved.

Carlos was nowhere to be found. Evie got a little worried and called his name, but there was no answer. Where was he? Evie didn’t scare easily, and she was in the house she had grown up in, but it was strange to be here all alone, without her mom bustling around and pressuring her to try the latest exercise fad. She didn’t even know where to start looking. The castle was so big that Evie never even knew how many rooms it had. She and Evil Queen had mostly stayed in the main area in the middle.

Maybe he was outside. She walked out the front door. “Carlos?” she yelled again.

“Over here!” he called. He was all the way on the other side of the castle, hidden by the overgrown weeds. In the moonlight, she could barely make out the tips of his black-and-white hair.

She walked over and found him standing in front of a series of stone steps that led to a cellar door. “Well, this is the place all right,” he said, pointing to a sign that was hung on the front.

How strange, Evie thought, and for a moment wondered nervously if Evil Queen was just out at the market buying provisions for this very mysterious gathering.

“Is anyone inside? I don’t even know where that door leads,” she told him.

“No, I don’t hear anything,” he told her. “Any sign of your mom?”

“No.” Evie told him what she found in the room. “It looks like she went away somewhere. She took her trunk, but left her makeup behind. But maybe she’ll be back for the meeting?”

Carlos nodded. “Come on, let’s go check out my place. Hopefully we’ll be just as lucky there.”

“But we didn’t find my mom,” said Evie.

“Exactly,” said Carlos.

H
ell Hall was built in the style of an elegant Victorian mansion. Of course, since it had been transported to the Isle of the Lost, it was nothing but a rotting shell now. Carlos let them in through the side door. So far, everything was as he remembered. Cruella’s mean-looking red sports car was parked in the garage, covered by a canvas sheet. The kitchen was still decorated in black and white tile, the refrigerator nearly empty. He peeked into the living room, and saw that it was exactly the same—the broken-down furniture covered with dusty white cloths, the standing knight’s armor they kept in the hallway still rusty, the wallpaper still faded, and there were still holes in the plaster molding.

“Mom?” Carlos whispered.

Evie nudged him. “She’s not going to hear you that way. Louder.”

Carlos tried again. “Mom?” he croaked.

“CRUELLA? ARE YOU HERE?” Evie yelled.

Carlos almost fell to the floor in fright. “Don’t DO that! Or at least warn me first!”

The kitchen was untidy, with dirty dishes in the sink and crusted food on the counter. Carlos began cleaning up almost automatically. It had been his job to keep house when he lived there. Cruella spent her days eating waxy old chocolate bonbons and watching the Dungeon Shopping Network.

“Doesn’t look like anyone’s been here in a while either,” said Evie, sniffing. “I think I’m allergic to the Isle,” she said apologetically.

“There’s only one way to find out. Wait here,” said Carlos. He steeled himself and went through the hidden passage to Cruella’s treasured fur closet.

There was no way his mother would leave without her precious furs. They were all she cared about in life. He flung open the door and gasped. They were all still there—mink and ocelot, beaver and fox, rabbit and raccoon, sable and skunk. Alas, not one Dalmatian coat; Cruella’s greatest regret. But he noticed that her rollers were missing from their case in her dressing room, along with the small overnight bag she often used when she went to visit the spa in Troll Town. (Apparently trolls were talented masseurs, due to their large hands.)

He walked back to the kitchen, where Evie was seated on a stool, blowing her nose. “She’s gone?” she asked.

“Looks like it,” he said, opening the cupboards for more clues. “And the milk in the fridge expired three months ago.” He picked up the box and shook it so its contents sloshed. “Curdled.”

“But the milk’s always expired when we get it.”

“Oh, right, I forgot,” said Carlos, who wanted a huge delicious glass of fresh milk right now. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow move across the kitchen window and jumped. “Who’s there!” he called.

No answer.

“I thought I saw something,” he muttered, and not for the first time, he wished they were back home safe in Auradon. This wasn’t home anymore, and it probably never had been, not really.

“She leave any clues?” Evie asked.

“No, just her furs,” said Carlos.

“Interesting. But isn’t Cruella obsessed with her fur coats?” asked Evie, who had once been stuck in that very closet, until Carlos rescued her from its bear traps.

“Obsessed is putting it mildly,” said Carlos.

“Evil Queen left her makeup, and Cruella de Vil left her fur coats,” said Evie. “But they’re definitely both gone. Maybe they thought they would be back quickly. I mean, they should be at the meeting tonight, right? Otherwise why would they leave the things that mattered to them the most?”

Carlos didn’t point out how insane it was that cosmetics and furs were what mattered the most to their mothers. He was used to coming in second in Cruella’s affections—make that third, after the car. Probably fourth, after the wigs, if he was being truly honest.

A twig snapped outside. This time Evie heard it too.

“Who’s there?” Carlos called again, opening the door. “Show yourself!” he said, even though he was shaking in his boots. He wished Mal was with them. Everyone was scared of Mal.

He heard snickering in the bushes, and whispering. “It’s him, it’s really him. And her, I think that’s her. The pretty one.” Two figures stepped out to the light. One was tall and skinny and the other was short and round.

“Harry! Jace!” Carlos said.

“Your friends?” asked Evie.

“Not exactly,” he told her. Harry and Jace were the sons of Cruella’s most loyal minions, Jasper and Horace. The three of them used to hang out since their fathers were scared of Carlos’s mother, and had forced their boys to befriend Carlos. They had helped decorate for the howler of a party Carlos had thrown for Mal at Hell Hall not too long ago.

“You’re back!” said Harry.

“What are you doing here?” asked Jace.

“Can’t a guy visit his mother?” asked Carlos. “What’s up with you guys?”

“Nothing much. We saw you on the telly,” said Harry. They sounded exactly like their fathers, down to their Cockney accents.

“At the Coronation?” Carlos said.

“Yar,” said Jace. “When the dome broke and Maleficent zoomed out of here, fast as her dragon wings could take her, we all cheered.”

“We thought it was finally our time, that she’d take Auradon for us!” said Harry.

“Evil rules!” cheered Jace, raising a fist.

“But o’course you all had to stand up against her, eh?” Harry shook his head. “And Mal, turning her mama into a lizard!”

“Mal’s the new Big Bad, huh,” said Jace. “She ever turn you into a lizard?”

“No,” said Carlos.

“You scared of her?” Harry wanted to know.

“Of Mal? No,” said Carlos again. “I used to be, but not anymore. Mal’s…changed.”

“Crikey! You mean she’s a lizard too?” said Harry.

“No. Mal’s not a lizard,” he told them, rolling his eyes as Evie tried not to laugh. Carlos remembered why he didn’t miss hanging out with Harry and Jace. Conversation tended to go around in circles. “Hey, do you guys know where my mother is?”

“Who?” asked Jace, affecting a blank look.

“Cruella de Vil!” yelled Carlos.

Harry and Jace exchanged shifty looks. “Don’t worry ’bout your mama, now; we’re here, right?” said Harry.

“Righto, guvnor, welcome home!” said Jace, with a menacing glint in his eye.

“Shhh,” said Harry. “Don’t spoil it.”

“Spoil what?” Carlos wanted to know.

But the two junior henchmen wouldn’t say and only laughed uproariously. Obviously, something was up, and it made Carlos’s stomach churn. Harry and Jace had never been good at keeping evil schemes to themselves, and it sounded as if that’s exactly what was about to hatch here.

J
afar’s Junk Shop looked as it always did, like a dilapidated dump. Through the grimy window, Jay could see the shelves filled with broken radios, lamps, and chairs as well all manner of old appliances that no one used anymore. Jafar had filled his mind with dreams of endless riches, and Jay used to imagine that all the twisted and rusted metal and the knockoff jewelry they sold would magically turn into piles of real gold and jewels. Of course, that never happened.

Jay picked the locks on the front door (all twenty-four of them) and let himself inside, skulking around a little, afraid of what his father would say when he saw him. “Dad?” he whispered. “Dad? Are you here?” he asked, a little more loudly. The air was musty and stale, and a fine layer of dust covered the gadgets and trinkets on the counters. There was no answer, until a rusty squawk from the back of the room echoed, “Dad? Dad? Dad?”

Jay ran to the private sitting area behind the shop, pushing back the heavy velvet curtains to find Iago, Jafar’s loyal parrot, looking terribly scrawny and out of sorts, with molted feathers covering the newspaper at the bottom of his cage. The bird practically snorted and put his wings on his hips when he saw Jay, as if to say,
About time, kid!

“Where’s Jafar?” Jay asked.

“Gone,” said Iago. “Gone gone gone gone gone.”

If there was one thing Jafar could be said to care about, it was his loyal sidekick. Jay didn’t think his father would leave Iago to starve, so wherever he’d gone, he must have expected to return shortly. Jay changed the newspapers and refilled the bird’s water and cracker supply.