Twice Cursed by Sheila Grau

Author:Sheila Grau
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Abrams
Published: 2018-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

“You can’t beat me, so join me. Accept this bracelet as a welcome-to-the-team gift.”

—DR. PRAVUS, TO THE MINIONS OF HIS ENEMIES

“No, you’ll get lost,” I said, grabbing his arm. “Come on, we’re close to Critchlore’s office. Those Pravus guys said that Victus and Syke are there. If we can spy on them, maybe we can figure out what happened to Critchlore and everyone else. We have to find Professor Zaida. She’s the only person I know who can contact Cordholm.”

He sulked, but I was able to lead him to Critchlore’s secret bunker. Once inside, we climbed a spiral staircase until we reached a hidden door to Critchlore’s office that was concealed on the other side by a bookshelf.

“We might be able to overhear the Pravus team from here,” I said.

Ron found a panel that opened a small window behind the bookshelf. Now we could clearly hear what was said inside, and even get a narrow peek.

“We have one of these at the embassy,” he said. “George showed it to me, before I was imprisoned. I would hide and spy on Seizemore. That’s how I discovered how despicable he is.”

“Hey, Ron,” I said, serious now. “I’m really sorry about your family.”

He nodded.

The office was empty, so we waited. And waited. Ron had never played rock-paper-scissors, so I taught him that game. Then I taught him a shoot-’em finger game, twenty questions, and the alphabet sentence game. He was terrible at all of them, and a poor loser, so I switched to two lies and a truth, the game where you tell three things about yourself and the other person has to guess which one is true.

Ron started. “One: When I turned five, Seizemore gave me my very own whipping boy, who would be punished when I misbehaved because nobody is allowed to touch a royal. Two: When I turned six, Seizemore gave me my own whip, and taught me to use it on the servants myself. Three: When I turned seven, my best friend didn’t come to my party, and I later learned it was because Seizemore had had his parents executed for stealing food.”

“Those are all terrible,” I said. “I hope they’re all lies.”

“Actually, they’re all true,” he said with a sad smile. “I was trying to trick you.”

“Okay, I’ll go,” I said. “One: I’ve never had a birthday party, because I don’t know when my birthday is. Two: My foster mother, Cook, has had so many foster children she can’t remember their names, so she gives them nicknames she can remember. Three: I don’t remember what my parents look like.”

“The second one is true?” he asked.

“Actually, they’re all true,” I said.

We sat quietly for a moment, then Ron said, “I remember your father. He whistled a lot, and the dogs loved him. He always seemed so happy.”

I smiled, adding that one mental picture to my empty family photo album. “Thanks,” I said.

We played the game straight after that. I learned that he hated snails (me too, though I meant plucking them out of the garden and he meant eating them).

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