 |
| "Alexander VanTussel" |
Suggested by: Lindsey Bruno
The List:
Name: Alexander VanTussel
Place: A Library
Time: 1 am
Object: A rocks glass
The Result:
The grandfather clock in the hallway struck one, and the chime echoed through the empty, dark halls.
He
lifted the tumbler to his lips, and the caramel-brown bourbon slipped down
his throat from between the half-melted pebbles of ice.
They
were late.
He sat among the shelves stacked high with wonderful volumes
full of vast power and immense treasure. He set the glass on a coaster.
What a shame none of these books could tell him the information he
needed. That was why he had sent them out in the first place.
He
heard the wet smack of their soft feet on the patio as they neared the
house. His lip curled in a sneer. How had it come to this? Alexander
VanTussel, confined to his home, all of his best-laid plans at the mercy
of a gaggle of slimy, slow-witted goblins? Each warty foot-pad only
reminded him of the number of times he had failed to get what he really
wanted—what he was only moments away from achieving now.
Alexander
rose from his low-slung armchair and flung the French doors open wide. A
dozen squat, grey-green creatures with yellow eyes carried a
struggling black body bag into the library.
"Well?" He demanded, his piercing grey eyes surveying the promising prize.
One of the disgusting scavengers gave the signal and they all dropped the bag, which landed with a thump.
"All in order, sir," the goblin grunted, a dopey smile plastered across his frog-like face.
Alexander eyed the unmoving bag. "Alive?"
The goblin rubbed his head. "And kicking, if you get my meaning, sir."
Alexander
rolled his eyes; how did the expression run? "Subtle as a goblin"—and
this was all he could manage to conjure from the Otherworld. Mordecai
VanTussel would be turning in his grave if he knew what his descendants
had been reduced to.
"Open it!" He commanded.
The goblins hastily unzipped the bag. A head of bright-red hair flopped forward when they raised the body.
Alexander glared at the goblin.
"My instructions were absolutely clear."
"That
they were, sir, no question. He's probably just a bit winded from the
journey—was a powerful long ways. Just give it a mo'." The goblin,
anxious to please his master, gave the prisoner a lusty crack on the
head. The young man jerked back into consciousness and blinked weakly up
at the tall form leaning over him.
"Darren Alexander," VanTussel uttered the name contemptuously and with a cruel smile. "Protector of the Ecrivaine."
Darren
tried a smile, but his face was so swollen after taking such a beating
from the goblins that he could only manage half a smirk. "That's me," he
croaked.
VanTussel leaned in close. "Then why did my minions
find you alone? Where is she, Darren?" He spoke softly, the malice
saturating his velvet voice. "Where is this Dragon-conjurer you should
have been protecting?"
Darren allowed his head to loll
forward, so the goblin on his right grabbed a tuft of red hair and
yanked it back, forcing him to look up at Alexander.
"Where is she?" Alexander seethed. "Where is the Ecrivaine?"
Darren winced as the goblin jerked on his hair. "You'll never get her," he shot back.
Boiling with rage, Alexander grabbed the front of the young man's collar and hoisted him into the air.
"I
am Alexander VanTussel!" He thundered. "My family has always borne a
connection to the Otherworld, and hanged if I don't get myself the
bloody dragon!"
Darren struggled to breathe under the furious
grip of the older man, and his toes just barely brushed the ground. But
he managed a cocksure smile. "Go hang, then," he rasped.
Alexander dropped him with a forceful push, and Darren collapsed on the floor.
"Take
him to the dungeon!" He ordered the goblin. "Torture him till he tells
everything he knows. I will find the Summoner myself."
The
goblins complied willingly, leaving Alexander alone in the library once
more. Scowling darkly, he poured himself another drink. He would get no
sleep until he had found a way to recapture the Midnight Dragon who had
escaped from his ancestor so long ago. It belonged to the family, and
Alexander wanted it back.
And when a VanTussel wanted something, he got it.
No comments:
Post a Comment