Chapter 22

“NOOOOOOOOO!” A screeching yell sounded behind us. All of a sudden, someone yanked the back of my dress. I heard it rip behind me.

“Nicole!” Charles yelled. “What do you think you are doing?” Nicole? Was she coming to help me? I looked over my shoulder, trying to see what was going on.

“I’m proving to you that she is not worthy of a crown,” she shrieked cruelly. I barely recognized her angry face. She looked nothing like the happy Nicole I knew. How could this be?

“Guards, seize her!” the king pointed toward Nicole.  

“No!” She whirled on them and then pointed to my back where the fabric had been torn. I could feel the cool air against my skin. “She cannot marry the prince.” She continued screaming. My brain seemed fuzzy, like I was watching the whole scene from an out of body experience. Who was this person? Was this my friend? My best friend? The one who gave me her dresses, who shared everything with me? Then she pointed at my back, and yelled “Look!” to all those standing around. Suddenly I knew what they were looking at.–the one thing I felt sure I had hidden so well from everyone. Except, of course, she was with her maid that first day when they dressed me. She would have seen it then, yet she never said anything.

“It is a mark of evil.,” she accused me. “See for yourself.” She encouraged the king. I looked up into Charles’ face and shook my head.

“It’s not what you think,” I whispered, struggling to get the words out. There it was for all to see, under my right shoulder blade, a small tattoo. A butterfly made out of musical notes. I knew what someone would think in this time period seeing a mark like this, not understanding what it was. I had taken great pains to cover it up when dressing.

“She’s a witch!” She let the final hammer drop; the magic word to stir up a frenzy.

The crowd below the stage, who moments ago cheered me on, now became hostile. I felt the energy in the air switch almost immediately. Charles started to step away from me, but I couldn’t hold myself up. Something was clearly wrong, but I didn’t know what. I couldn’t feel my legs at all. He grabbed me before I fell. Then I saw Genevieve rush to his side and whisper something in his ear. Now what? Were they all in on a conspiracy to have me burned at the stake? She took my face in her hands and looked into my eyes. I could see worry etched in her features. The realization hit me. I’d been wrong this whole time. It wasn’t Genevieve who hated me. It was Nicole.

The king told Charles to get me back to the castle, so he swept me into his arms. We barely got off the stage before it was mobbed by the people wanting to get at the witch. I looked at Nicole and saw a look of triumph on her face. I could only shake my head sadly. I had loved her like a sister.

I bounced up and down as Charles ran with me in his arms. I heard Genevieve talking to him as she kept up. I could make out words here and there. Hemlock. Poison. Water. And then I understood. Nicole had poisoned my water. “Leonardo,” I croaked, trying to get Charles’ attention. I willed my hand to grasp his so he would hear me. “Take me to Leonardo’s,” I gasped again.

“He might have a cure,” Genevieve suggested. They immediately switched course, passed through the gardens, and ran for da Vinci’s home. I didn’t know how much time I had, but it wasn’t a cure I sought. The poison seemed to be working fast. My legs felt paralyzed. My fingers felt numb. My brain already felt foggy, but I struggled to stay focused. I have to get back, I said to myself over and over. I have to get back. If I could just get to the tunnel, I knew Leonardo could get me back. And if I got back, I’d have modern medicine on my side. Genevieve ran ahead and pounded on the doors. I knew he’d be here. He was already expecting me. Leonardo answered the door himself, and looked at our sad, strange group in alarm.

“What has happened?” he asked.

“Tunnels. Now, Leo. Now,” I pleaded. He immediately turned and we ran to his special room while the others filled him in on what had happened. The tapestry was already swept aside, the door open in preparation.

“Here,” Leonardo said, as he threw a satchel across Charles’ shoulders. I have no idea what was inside it, but it must have been something he wanted me to take back. He grabbed a wall sconce and beckoned to the tunnel. “The device?” he asked me as we wound our way through the passages, like mice in a maze.

“In my pocket,” I assured him. Charles looked at us with questions in his eyes. He didn’t say a thing as Leonardo found my pocket and pulled out my iPhone. Charles jerked in surprise as Leonardo flipped the flashlight on like I taught him. Genevieve gasped and I knew she was still with us. Leonardo tucked the phone in my hand and I held onto it as tightly as I could.

“Are you ready?” he asked me. I could feel the hum already, the pull. I knew that when we turned the next corner it might be like stepping into a giant vacuum.

“No,” I replied honestly. “But I have to.” He nodded.

“What are we doing in here? What is this thing in her hand,” Charles finally asked. “Will we find a treatment for her? Will she live?” he worried.

“Yes, yes,” Leonardo reassured him. “Just yell for help when you get there.” he added.

“When we get where?” Poor Charles. There was no way to explain it now. And I was losing the battle to keep my mind clear. We turned the corner and the wind kicked up. It started to whirl about around us. Leonardo stopped and held onto Genevieve’s arm to pull her to a stop too. Charles kept running. I looked over his shoulder.

“Bye, Leo,” I croaked. I glanced at Genevieve. Her hand was over her mouth and tears were in her eyes.

“Sorry,” she mouthed. I nodded.

“Me too,” I whispered back. Sorry for a friendship that never was, but should have been. Abruptly a bright light flashed and the hum intensified to a roar. I felt Charles hesitate, so I grasped his hand again.

“Run, Charles. Run into the light. Please,” I begged. I pointed my flashlight into the circle of mirrors. Immediately, we felt ourselves pulled into space. Charles tucked my head close and shielded my body with his. I felt like we were spinning head over foot. I held on as tightly as I could, but I’d lost the feeling in my arms.

It’s strange, the little details that flit in and out of your mind when you know you’re dying. I thought in my mind’s eye I would see my life play like a silent movie in my head. But no, it’s these little details I grasp at, hoping they will stop the burning sensation in my abdomen and the numbness in my limbs. I cling to these details, each and every one. The flash of light in the dark tunnel. The strong arms keeping me from falling. The heartbeat strong and steady next to my cheek. The sound of feet hitting the stone floor and running, running, running. A voice that seems so far away, calling for help, a doctor, a hospital. It keeps calling.

Suddenly the running stops. I hear other voices around me now. I don’t know who they are. My mind is foggy. I try to open my eyes. Everything is a blur of color and movement. My eyes close again. I can’t keep them open. Someone touches my face and pleads for me to look at him, stay with him. I try to lift my head to find the voice. I feel like I’m stuck in molasses. It takes every ounce of determination I have to open my eyes again and look.

I see his face. That face I’ve grown to love. The dark stubble lining his cheek. I ache to reach out and touch it, but I can’t move my arm. The blue eyes burn into mine.

All of a sudden, something in my hand buzzes out of control. I slowly turn my head, look down, and see it in my hand: my iPhone, lighting up all on its own, buzzing with hundreds of notifications. Seconds before the darkness takes over, the thought hits me.

I’m home.