The Doldrums and the Helmsley Curse

“But we do expect you to stay nearby,” Grandma Helmsley added. “There’s a lot to see there, but no wandering off on your own. We’ll be in the Grand Hall for the evening. And the Grand Hall is where we’d like you all to stay. I can assure you it will be filled with many characters.”

Mr. Helmsley appeared in the doorway. “And when you return,” he said to Archer’s grandparents, “as promised, you begin to sort things out.” He motioned for Archer to join him out in the hall.

“I know you’re excited, Archer,” his father said. “But while you’re at the Society, you must follow your grandparents’ rules. Your grandmother’s right. The Society is filled with characters. But not everyone is good-natured. Use your head. Mind yourself.”

♦ BRIDGES TO SECRETS ♦

That evening, Archer stood at the door pulling on his coat alongside his grandparents. Mrs. Helmsley was in the sitting room, peering through the curtain at a filthy black truck idling outside the house. “This will not become a regular thing.” Next door, Oliver was also eyeing the truck from the Glubs’ front steps. Adélaïde was with him, watching plumes of smoke dance around it.

“Isn’t the mist pretty?” she said.

“That’s exhaust,” Oliver replied.

Archer and his grandparents climbed down the front steps. Oliver and Adélaïde joined them at the truck. Cornelius leaned out the window to greet them and spotted Adélaïde.

“The crocodile girl!”

Adélaïde curtsied.

“She’s actually just the lamppost girl,” Oliver clarified.

“Whatever you are, it’s my pleasure to be your transport this evening.”

The inside of the truck was every bit as a filthy as the outside.

“It smells like stale coffee and grease,” Oliver noted, climbing into the backseat alongside Archer and Adélaïde.

Grandma and Grandpa Helmsley joined Cornelius up front. Once their doors were shut, Cornelius slammed his foot on the gas, and they barreled off down the snowbound streets. Archer’s grandparents didn’t seem to notice the speed. But Archer, Oliver, and Adélaïde scrambled for something to brace themselves with as the truck swerved on the snow and ice.

“I think he’s more used to steering ships,” Archer whispered, taking holding of a strap dangling from the roof.

“And he does only have one eye,” Adélaïde agreed, gripping the strap as well.

“Or maybe reckless is just his style?” Oliver suggested, prying his face off the front seat and reaching up.

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