Page 45 of The Grip of Death
I clenched my jaw. I remembered all too well. The Fever was spreading throughout the arcane underground and no one could figure out exactly why. Xander had been infected himself, coming so close to burning out. I remembered wanting to punish whoever was responsible.
Twice now Gertrude Goodness had placed Xander’s life at risk. To think that the perpetrator had been right under our noses from the start. We gave Master Lobelia so much shit for wanting to study the Chrysanthemysts back then. If only we’d thought to suspect the master of a different guild.
The portal warbled again, its surface rippling like a pond disturbed by a pebble. Out stepped the Summer Knight, resplendent in her ceremonial armor. It had a few new nicks and gouges from the fight, but she was none the worse for wear.
“King Oberon has instructed me to assist you in any way I can. You have my blade, gentlemen.”
Xander clapped her on the shoulder. “We’ll take all the help we can get.”
We hurried onward, taking a moment to swing by the Pryde house and pick up the Gauntlet. I was far more useful in a scrap with my weapon of choice, and I could already guess that this was going to be a dangerous battle. We’d only seen a fraction of what Gertrude Goodness could do in a fight, summoning those strange desserts of hers and turning them into sentient, deadly creatures — acidic jelly, fiery chocolate cake.
Her weapons were just a parallel of who she was: soft and innocuous on the outside, deadly in truth. I didn’t know how else to describe someone who could be cruel enough to work with Queen Titania to spread the Fever and the Chrysanthemysts. And to detonate so many of those flowers in a crowded place, with the intent to harm so many vulnerable people? Pure evil.
We encountered no resistance at Mother Dough headquarters, no guild members setting up barricades, not evena hint of someone rearing for a fight. I’d almost expected for us to have to lay siege to the building. It was business as usual, bakers and guild members going about their day, the giant cottage-like HQ smelling of sugar and bread.
This was how Gertrude always operated, then, under cover of her gleaming reputation, pulling the strings from behind the scenes. You could cover anything up with the right attitude and a bright smile. That smile leered at us from every workshop, from every bakery window we passed, Gertrude’s grinning face printed on every box, every paper bag.
And that was why she was so confident about her machinations. Who would believe us when Gertrude Goodness, Mother Dough herself had such a stellar reputation? Who would ever accuse a sweet old granny of anything more sinister than accidentally using a cup of salt when the recipe called for a cup of sugar?
Even the corridor to her office was quiet. Strangest of all was the complete absence of any of her brass automatons. There was supposed to be a brass dog guarding her door at all times, wasn’t there? Brutus was nowhere in sight. Instead, hanging on a hook at approximately knee level was a sign that said “Out to lunch.”
I tested the door knob. Unlocked. I glanced at the others, nodding firmly to signal preparedness. I turned the knob and pushed the door open, unsure of what to expect. I certainly wasn’t expecting Gertrude Goodness to be sitting at her desk, hands folded, smiling in greeting.
“We missed you at the reception,” I told her, my fingers unclenched as I let my Gauntleted arm dangle by my hip. A threat, a loaded weapon.
Gertrude grinned wider and shrugged. “Oh, you know how it is. Guild business and all. You’ll find out for yourself once you become a guild master, Jackson Pryde. If you survive to become one, that is.”
I held my arm out as Xander lunged forward. He hissed through gritted teeth. “Don’t you dare threaten him. We know what you did, Gertrude. This isn’t going to end well for you.”
The smile never fell from her face. “That remains to be seen. How lucky of me to receive such illustrious guests in my office. The handsome newlyweds, a high-ranking SEER officer, and the Knight of the Summer Court herself.”
Sparrowheart placed one hand on the pommel of her sword, still sheathed in its scabbard. “It was you, then. You and Titania spread the scourge of the Chrysanthemysts throughout the Summer Court. Are you aware of how many you’ve killed, Master Gertrude? How many lives you’ve ruined?”
“Queen Titania had the right attitude for it, at least at the start. We were supposed to pull the strings from the background, her spreading her Chrysanthemysts in the Verdance, me quietly scattering the seeds out here on Earth. They’re so pretty, aren’t they? Like violet sugar. Like iridescent candy sprinkles.”
Something shivered down my spine. This was the first I’d really noticed how Gertrude Goodness wasn’t completely all there. That grin, her fascination with the corrupted flowers — something inside her had fractured. No wonder we never noticed her involvement. She’d gotten so good at pretending.
“Why did you think that something this public would work?” Xander said. “You’re much too smart for that. You had nothing to gain and everything to lose.”
“Everything?” Gertrude Goodness laughed. “Surely not everything. I’ve spent decades building up Mother Dough’s reputation, both the guild and myself as its beloved figurehead. Who would the arcane underground believe, I ask you? The sweet old woman on every loaf of bread and box of doughnuts, or the newlyweds who are so famously explosive in their individual ways?”
“But it all leads back to you,” I said, carefully measuring my temper. I definitely didn’t miss that indirect hit on my parents and the blast at the Halls of Making. My fists clenched tighter. “Who else could have stuffed an entire wedding cake with explosive eggs? Who else but you could have had access?”
Gertrude blinked. “Why, your good friend Lore, of course. Lawrence Pryde. Surely you’ve heard of a rogue AI before, a sentient computer gone berserk. Didn’t your family’s second AI already do the same, partially destroying the Halls of Making? Past precedent. It’s so obvious, and so very convenient. Why did you think I allowed Lore to enter my guild in the first place?”
I didn’t think I could get any angrier. Heat and tension seized my chest. Lore was so excited to become an actual member of Mother Dough, the closest thing he’d ever come to being truly accepted as part of our community, the closest thing to personhood. And she wasn’t wrong about Whitby’s malfunction, but that was an aftereffect of the accident. We couldn’t blame him.
But everyone else would. Gertrude was right. No one would ever believe us over her.
“All this deception,” I said, steadying my breath, taking care not to erupt. “That meant everything to Lore, and you did it just to try and maim everybody at our wedding. You’ve been lying to us all this time. All of us. To what end? What have we ever done to you?”
Gertrude Goodness raised her eyebrows. “To you? Goodness gracious, dear Jackson. This has nothing to do with you. I’m quite fond of you and Xander, in fact. And Lore, and the young Belkova boy, and all the rest. But this is bigger than all of you. Much bigger. This is about the Black Market and its future.”
Xander grunted as he squeezed his fists, almost as if he’d meant to throttle her from afar. “What does that even mean? What does trying to kill us have to do with the Black Market?”
“It was never meant to kill you, you know. The arcane engine.”
The room went deathly silent. The blaze of anger in my heart turned freezing cold.
