Scourge: A Grim Doyle Adventure

Chapter 7

They departed the tent and when all was ready, the small group that remained began the trek. Treena eventually came over and walked with Rudy and Grim, yet conversation was at a minimum. Even Treena, talkative as she was, sensed that neither was in a mood to chat.

Grim only briefly struck up a conversation with her, trying to think about something other than losing his dads.

“Do you have that device?” he asked. “The one that summoned that fire girl, or whatever she was.”

Treena shook her head. “Father took it. He said I won’t need it where we’re going.”

“Bummer.” He was hoping to get a better look at it.

The time seemed to travel slowly, almost painfully as they marched through marsh and fog, forest and dale. When they finally came upon their destination, it was almost a relief.

The buildings were old and at the center of the city sat a blackened, decrepit manor. Sinth carriages silently hastened through the streets.

The city was dark, and dirty. They walked its cobbled streets, onlookers paying them no heed. They wound through the maze of streets until they finally came to a crooked structure. It had a sagging tower that appeared as if it was about to crumble and the grounds about the building seemed to have swallowed half of it. Ravens were perched all about the iron fences and a vulture sat atop the tower ― a twisted stone finger that beckoned them forward.

Aunt Patrice raised the heavy door knocker and let it drop.

After three attempts of loud thumping, a pale woman with a smooth, ageless face appeared at the door. Her lips seemed permanently pursed together in a slightly off-center position ― like she was trying to kiss her own ear. Her hairdo was so tall and intertwined it looked like a giant bird’s nest and she wore a long black-and-white dress that skirted along the floor behind her.

“Welcome to Madam Malkim’s Home for Destitute and Wayward Children,” she said with a lilting voice. She cupped her hands together in the most prim and proper manner. I am Madam Malkim.”

Destitute and wayward. Great.

Aunt Patrice approached the woman. She whispered in her ear and Madam Malkim kept eying the large wart on Aunt Patrice’s nose. Every time it came within inches of her face, she backed away or swayed her head around to avoid it.

She gazed towards the children, pausing, and finally gave a single nod of her head in which her hair almost toppled over.

Madam Malkim pushed on the door and it didn’t creak when it opened; it moaned, like it was on the verge of death. She led them down a dreary-looking hallway, coated in dust and grime. She paused in front of a narrow staircase, beside which sat a weathered painting of a staunch-looking man in a gray suit. He held a matching blaster. At the bottom of the painting was etched an inscription:

Lord Occularis Green, Keeper of the Night.

Madam Malkim immediately pointed at the twins, “Your room is up the stairs, three doors on your right. You two little ones,” she said to Ellen and Sam, “next door. You two girls,” she said pointing to Rudy and Treena. “Two doors further. And you,” she said, looking at Grim, “next door to them. Tomorrow your chores will be assigned.”

“Chores?” asked Barny and Benny.

“Indeed,” she said with a snort. “You must earn your keep.”

A look of disappointment spread through the small group.

“Surely you did not think we would wait on you hand-and-foot? It takes work to maintain Madam Malkim’s.”