Return to the Isle of the Lost (13 page)

“You don’t know where Dad went?” Jay asked.

“Gone gone gone gone gone” was all Iago said, stuffing his beak with crackers as fast as he could.

Jay sighed. The cranky parrot had never been much help in the past, so of course he was no help now. He checked the rest of the shop for any small clue or indication as to where Jafar could have gone, but didn’t find anything helpful. Where had his father disappeared to? The only place the villains ever talked about going was Auradon; they were obsessed with returning to their true homes. Growing up, Jay recalled his father telling him how Agrabah was its most beautiful kingdom, with the Sultan’s Palace and its golden domes high up north, past the Great Wall.

There was a knock on the door. “Are you open?”

“Sure,” said Jay. “Come in!” He figured whoever it was might be able to tell him something about his father’s disappearance.

Big Murph, a young pirate who ran with Hook’s crew, walked in, an eye patch over one eye, a red bandanna tied around his forehead, and a faded yellow vest over a dirty T-shirt and holey shorts. Like the rest of his kin, Big Murph only wore shower sandals, even when it snowed. “Hey, Jafar, glad to see you open up again, we’re out of fishing…”

The stout pirate stopped short when he saw Jay. “Oh! It’s you!”

“Hey, Big Murph, what’s up?” Jay asked. He liked Big Murph and the pirates. The big guy was usually friendly and Captain Hook had asked Jay to join their crew a couple of times, telling him they could use a talented thief among their ranks, but he had always passed. He wasn’t a big fan of scurvy.

“JAY!” Big Murph said, looking fearful as a few more people wandered into the Junk Shop to browse. He looked around the shop. “You’re really back?” he asked suspiciously.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Big Murph continued to look askance at Jay. “Is it true—that Mal and Evie and Carlos are back from Auradon too?”

Jay leaned on a counter and crossed his arms, still unsure of what this was all about; the pirate was sure acting cagey. “Yes, we’re here to, um, visit our aged relatives. Do you know where my dad is, by the way?” It was still hard to believe his father wasn’t at home as Jay recalled that most days Jafar was too lazy to get up from his divan.

Big Murph shook his head and wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“No clue, huh?” said Jay, who was starting to feel that the big man wasn’t quite telling him the whole truth.

“Nope,” said Big Murph stubbornly. “Shop’s been closed and we’ve been out of fishing hooks.” The pirates often fished from the piers.

Jay rummaged through the nearest drawers and found a bag full of hooks. “Here, take them,” he told Big Murph.

“How much?” the pirate asked nervously as Jafar often charged ten times the amount the stuff was actually worth.

“Just take them,” said Jay. It wasn’t like he could spend those coins in Auradon anyway. His dad would scream at him for giving something away for free, but Jafar wasn’t here right now, was he?

“Serious?” Big Murph asked skeptically.

“Yeah, go ahead, get out of here. Go fishing. Catch a crocodile while you’re at it,” he said with a grin.

A goblin brought up his items to the register and Jay rang him up. Big Murph was still standing there. “Guess it’s true, then, what they say about you guys,” the pirate said, almost defensively.

“Who’s they and what do they say about us?” asked Jay, making change for the goblin.

But Big Murph wasn’t paying attention anymore, as he was too excited about the bag of hooks. Then he checked the time on his pocket watch and jumped. “Oh, I’ll be late! Gotta run! But maybe I’ll see you later?” he said meaningfully.

Then he was gone before Jay could ask him any more questions. Was Big Murph talking about the Anti-Heroes meeting? He wasn’t sure, and the bad feeling he had about attending this meeting only grew. Whatever it was, it had turned a happy-go-lucky little pirate into a shifty-eyed mercenary.

Before he could think on it too much, Anthony Tremaine popped his head in the shop as well. The handsome grandson of Lady Tremaine curled his lip when he saw Jay. “Oh, it’s you,” he said, sounding terrifically bored. He had the same haughty way of speaking as his grandmother. “I heard a nasty rumor that you and the other turncoats were back on the Isle.”

“Turncoats!”

“Isn’t that what you call someone who turns against everything they used to stand for?” asked Anthony. “That little performance at the Coronation was ever so…
good
, wasn’t it?”

“What do you want, Anthony?” asked Jay, impatient to get rid of him.

“Jafar promised Mother a new shoe-stretcher,” Anthony said. “I paid him but he hasn’t delivered. I was hoping he was back to make good on our deal. Mother’s beside herself.” Anastasia still refused to wear shoes in the right size, preferring to buy them a size smaller so she could try to expand them through rigorous and hopeless toe-straining, as if Prince Charming would still change his mind.

“Hang on,” said Jay, looking through the many shelves and drawers, but he couldn’t find what he needed. “Sorry, looks we’ve run out.”

“Even if the embargo’s lifted?” asked Anthony with a smirk.

“Come again?”

“If you’re back, it sure looks like Auradon’s sending their trash to the Isle of the Lost again, doesn’t it?” Anthony laughed, pleased with his insult.

“Ha-ha,” said Jay.

“A joke,” said Anthony, with a shrug. “What are you doing back anyway?”

“What’s it to you?” asked Jay. “Who wants to know?”

“You know what, I’m too bored to pretend to care,” said Anthony.

“Fine,” said Jay, reaching out to shake Anthony’s hand.

Anthony gave him a strange look, but shook hands with Jay before leaving the shop. Now it was Jay’s turn to smirk, since he’d swiped Anthony’s watch for old times’ sake. It was so easy, just a flick of the wrist, flip of the latch, and it was his. Oh, he’d missed this. Jay counted the seconds for the snobby boy to return. One, two, three, four…

Anthony reappeared at the doorway, and he sure wasn’t laughing now. “Give it back, Jay,” he said fiercely. “Now!”

“What are you talking about?” asked Jay, the very picture of innocence even as his eyes twinkled with amusement.

“My watch. You took it.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did!”

“I didn’t take it, I swear. Maybe you just misplaced it,” said Jay with a shrug. “You should be more careful with your things.”

“It’s a wristwatch! Where else would it be but on my wrist?” Anthony glowered and stomped off, muttering darkly to himself about how Auradon should keep its trash for itself.

Jay whistled as he closed up the shop again and waved goodbye to Iago, promising to send a goblin to feed him crackers. Anthony was right, Jay had stolen his watch, but instead of keeping it, he’d hidden it in Anthony’s jacket pocket. He knew Anthony would go crazy looking for it, and would be especially annoyed when he discovered Jay “hadn’t stolen it” after all.

Sometimes, even reformed villains needed to have a little fun.

W
hile it had been hard saying goodbye to Mal and letting the four villain kids return to the Isle of the Lost, Ben knew that if anyone could get to the bottom of what was happening back there, she was the one to do it. He was glad she had her friends by her side as well. There was no point in wasting time biting his fingernails and watching the clock. He didn’t realize he’d spoken out loud until Cogsworth interrupted his thoughts.

“Did you say clock, Sire?” his loyal servant asked. While Cogsworth was no longer a grandfather clock, he was still understandably sensitive when he heard anything pertaining to timepieces. “It is close to midnight, should you need the time.” The stalwart Englishman was overseeing the footmen as they set down Ben’s trunks from the journey in the royal bedroom.

“Thank you. I didn’t realize how late it was. You can leave the rest for tomorrow,” Ben said, dismissing them. He was incredibly tired, and the extra-plush mattress in his large wrought-iron four-poster bed was especially inviting after the lumpy one in Camelot. He was happy to be back in his room, with the familiar Auradon banners and exercise equipment, the huge yacht model he’d made still sitting on his desk.

“If I may…” said Cogsworth, pausing at the doorway. He waited for Ben to nod before continuing. “Lumiere mentioned you had encountered a rather purple dragon in the woods. Being that my old friend is prone to flights of fancy, I thought I would ask you myself. Is it true, Sire, about the dragon?”

“I’m afraid it is,” said Ben. “May I ask that you and the rest of the palace staff please keep this news to yourselves for now? At the right time, I shall alert the general population of the danger.”

“Of course, Sire,” said Cogsworth, who had turned gray. “Do you think it is…
her
?” he asked, visibly shivering at the thought.

“Unfortunately, I can’t think who or what else it could be but Maleficent,” said Ben. “But don’t worry, my friend, we’ll keep Auradon safe.”

Cogsworth bowed, and when he left the room, Ben noticed that everything had been unpacked and put away in pristine order even though he’d told him to wait until tomorrow. Ben had to smile. That Cogsworth: his loyal efficiency was regular as clockwork.

Even though he was exhausted, the events of the night meant Ben found it hard to fall asleep. Deciding it was useless to keep tossing and turning, he got up to do some work instead. When he turned on his computer, he found that as promised, Carlos had sent him the link to the Dark Net. Ben clicked around till he found the photos Mal had told him about on the Anti-Heroes thread. He was taken aback to find one of himself with a red
X
over his face too. He clucked his tongue and continued to read on, steeling himself for further assault and more invectives.

The Anti-Heroes forum was lit up that night, with many of its members posting their excitement about tonight’s meeting. Then Ben saw a new post that caught his eye. The message read,
Looks like four former castoffs have washed ashore on the Isle of the Lost. Prepare Operation Welcome Home!

Hang on.

Four former castoffs?

That could only mean his four friends, right? Ben checked the time stamp. The message was sent an hour ago, about the same time Mal and the gang would have arrived on the island. He had to warn them that their presence had been noticed by their enemies. Ben sent texts and tried to call, then remembered that the island was cut off from the main servers. If Mal got into trouble, there was no way for him to find out until it was too late. He could send his royal troops after them right now, but since nothing had happened yet, he knew Mal would take it as an insult. Ben slammed down his laptop, frustrated.

He would just have to trust that she, Evie, Jay, and Carlos would be able to deal even if the situation got out of hand. He forced himself to stop worrying and focus on the current problem instead—the purple dragon of Camelot. Earlier, he had sent emergency e-mails to his council, alerting them to the danger he’d discovered. Grumpy and the dwarfs advised they were up for battle, axes at the ready, although perhaps the best thing to do would be to destroy Maleficent while she was in her tiny lizard form in her glass dome. Others were more cautious in their response, however.

An e-mail had arrived from the three good fairies. Merryweather, the youngest, and most capable with modern technology, had sent their reply.

He was glad they agreed that Maleficent should not be harmed, as he knew he could never face Mal if she returned on Monday to the news that her mother had been destroyed without a fair trial or even proof that she was the one rampaging through Camelot.

The royal technicians had set up several cameras all around Maleficent’s prison, and Ben called up the screens. All of them showed a tiny lizard under glass, and so far there was no indication it was anything other than that. He closed the windows showing the security screens with a sigh.

As he was typing a grateful reply to the good fairies, there was a knock on his door. “Enter,” he called.

“Forgive me, Sire, but Archimedes just dropped this off. From the way he was hooting, it seemed rather urgent,” said a sleepy Lumiere, handing him a letter that had beak marks around its edges.