Welcome to Part 6 of my story Never Say Never! This one includes TPP through The End and the events after of course!
ENJOY! And R&R as always! :)
Chapter One: Ride
Jamie Murray
The waves crashed onto the shore, their icy depths seeming as foreboding and dark as the elevator shaft at 667 Dark Avenue. The dark clouds hovered above my head, without even the slightest crack as if a dense haze of smoke had occupied the sky. I sat down on a rock nearby and grasped a handful of sand, letting it fall back to the ground like rain. I stared hard at the glossy surface as if expecting to see a monster reflected there, but only spotting a distressed, lonely, young girl gazing back at me with years of grief echoed within her eyes.
I picked up a stone from the sandy ground and turned it in my hands, feeling the cool, rough surface. Finally, I curled my hand around the stone and then hauled it angrily at that girl. The stone plunged into the water where I had aimed it, and the reflection seemed to shatter like my heart had not too long ago.
I sighed heavily and closed my eyes, trying desperately not to think. But that was impossible when there was so much going on. I held on tighter to the turquoise notebook in my hands, seeming heavier than before.
"Jamie, darling!" a voice called. And I slowly turned to see Esmé Squalor approaching me, beaming. "My boyfriend just told me that you're one of us now. Isn't that just smashing?! I always knew you'd come around."
"She's still a cakesniffer," Carmelita said, scowling at me.
"Now it's like you're both the daughters that I never had," Esmé cried as she patted the top of my head. "I'm going to buy you all sorts of fabulous outfits too! They'll look even better than that carnival dress you wore at Caligari Carnival."
I shuddered, remembering that awful dress that made me feel like I was wearing a box. And then of course, it had a merry-go-round as the skirt. It made me uneasy to think about the kinds of outfits Esmé would force me to wear this time. But I had to remember that I wasn't that person anymore. I was on Esmé's side now and I honestly did want her to like me. So what if I had to wear some strange dress to accomplish that?
"Thank you Esmé," I said. "I'd be glad to wear all of those fashionable outfits."
Carmelita frowned at me. "But Esmé," she whined, "I want all the fashionable outfits to myself. Jane is a cakesniffer."
"Now, Carmelita," Olaf said, as he strode over to us. He had been overjoyed when I agreed to join him and as my first attempt at being villainous, I told him that the Baudelaires were headed to Briny Beach. I would have felt bad about doing that, but I was already aware that my decision meant that any ties with the Baudelaires had to be severed. In fact, I was debating whether I should toss my notebook into the sea. Maybe then I would be free. But I only gripped it in my hands, uncertain about whether I should keep it, "if Blondie wants a fashionable outfit, she can have one. So long as she keeps to her word about whose side she's on."
"That's true," Esmé said, her smile fading, "Abigail could never decide which side she was on."
"So if you're really going to join us," Olaf said. "You have to prove it. If I see you do any goody-good stuff, it's back to being an orphan prisoner, understand? And this doesn't count. The Baudelaires aren't even here."
I nodded. "I made my decision," I said, "It's not like I have anywhere else to go. That's what I was thinking, Esmé. I thought that if you were my family, then maybe this is where I ought to be."
Esmé's smile reappeared as quickly as it faded. "Excellent!" she cried and patted my head again. "Abigail would have wanted you to be on our side."
"Now, let's get out of here," Olaf said, "Hooky and Triangle Eyes may have stolen my submarine and my recruits, but we still have to return to Hotel Denouement for my latest scheme. I'll go get us some cabs. Wait here."
Olaf went off in the direction of the busy road and I stayed with Esmé and Carmelita. Carmelita wouldn't stop scowling at me and I knew she was jealous that I was getting some attention by Esmé too.
The last time someone paid so much attention to me, Carmelita kidnapped the kid and held him hostage until he called me a cakesniffer. That was Charlie M. Kornbluth who had been one of the recruited children on the Carmelita.
"I still think Jane is a cakesniffer," Carmelita said. "I don't care whose side she's on."
"For the last time, my name is Jamie," I said, "you don't have to call me Jane anymore."
The Baudelaires called me Jane. Now that we were no longer friends, I had to move on. Besides, I didn't mind the name Jamie. Perhaps it was time I stop hiding from the truth. I couldn't be Jane forever. Having a different name wouldn't change who I was. I was still Count Olaf's henchwoman. So I was Jamie Faith Murray now.
"Jane isn't a very in name," Esmé said, "but Jamie is much more fashionable. Thank goodness Abigail was thinking clearly when she named you."
A taxi pulled over and I followed Esmé and Carmelita over to the automobile.
"You and Carmelita will ride in this cab," Olaf said to Esmé. Then he looked at me. "As for you, Blondie, you're riding with me."
I nodded. Esmé and Carmelita got into the first taxi.
As Carmelita started to get in, she turned to face me with a snicker. "Ha ha!" she teased. "Jamie has to ride with Countie!"
Count Olaf reached out and slammed the door closed, almost hitting Carmelita in the face. The taxi driver steered the cab away to Hotel Denouement.
"At least she got my name right," I muttered, more to myself.
Then Count Olaf waved another taxi over.
"Get in," Olaf ordered, opening the back door.
I looked up at my new boss, out at the murky waters of Briny Beach, and then back down at my notebook. It was all I had left of the person I once was. With a sigh, I stuck it in my pocket and scrambled inside the cab. The seats were leather and molded in from all the passengers who had been inside before us. Count Olaf got in after me and started giving orders to the taxi driver.
"Take us to Hotel Denouement at once," he said, "and you'd better hurry. I'm very busy."
"Yes, sir," the man sitting in the drivers' seat replied. He adjusted the rear-view mirror and pulled the car onto the road. I noticed he was wearing a wide-brimmed hat.
I resorted to staring gloomily out of my window as the cab passed the packed streets of all sorts of people.
"Now, listen you," Olaf said, grabbing my attention away from the scenery. "Just because you've joined me doesn't mean I won't be keeping an eye on you. Now that you're my associate, you'll do whatever I say the moment I say it. I won't be very forgiving if you wind up foiling my plans again, is that clear?"
"Yes," I said.
Olaf suddenly looked at the cab driver. "What are you looking at, you idiot," Olaf growled. "Keep your eyes on the road, not on me or my associates. It's rude to eavesdrop."
The cab driver nodded and adjusted the rear view mirror again.
"Now where were we, Blondie," Olaf started.
"You were telling me not to foil your plans," I said.
"Ah, yes," he said, "And another thing, while we're at our destination, if anyone you don't know asks you who you are, you tell them you're Jane Rumary. No one can know who you really are unless you're asking for a death sentence, got it? Not even being an associate of mine will guarantee your safety from the rest of the world."
"Yes," I said.
"I mean it," Olaf said, "in fact, do not trust orders from anyone but myself, Esmé, the freaks, Carmelita, or Ernest Denouement."
"Alright but there's no way I'm taking orders from Carmelita," I said, "If I wanted to do that, I would have joined as Carmelita's butler."
"Fine," Count Olaf said.
"Tell me right away if you see anything suspicious," Olaf continued. "Including if you see the Baudebrats. Remember, they're not your friends, Blondie. But I shouldn't have to worry too much. When you're not with me, you'll be with Esmé and Carmelita or the other people I mentioned you could trust." He grinned slyly. "You see, you'll never be alone if you're working for me."
"That's good to know," I said. "So are you going to explain to me what the sugar bowl is?" I couldn't help asking. "If I'm going to help, I should at least know what's inside it."
"I'll decide what you should and shouldn't know," Olaf growled. "I'm your boss now."
I nodded silently. Count Olaf reached out a scraggly hand and put it on the top of my head.
"Do what I say," he said, "and you'll make a great henchwoman. Just like your mother. She would be proud to see you taking on the mission we began so many years ago. In a few days I'll triumph! Ha!"
Count Olaf had recently changed his laugh after the other one he said wasted too much time and almost caused that submarine shaped like a question mark to come after us. At least it wasn't as long but that didn't stop it from being annoying.
"Ho ho ho," I forced myself to laugh, trying to play along. I hoped it didn't sound too forced.
"You're not Santa Clause," Olaf growled. "You have a lot to learn about what it takes to be my associate. But you're in luck because I'll be glad to teach you! Ha! You'll learn how to set fires and how to shoot a gun and all sorts of villainous things."
"I can't wait," I said. I was suddenly glad that I was good at acting. Every time I made a comment, I got this uneasy feeling in my gut. I just had to keep reminding myself of who I was now. This was the life I had chosen. It was my destiny.
"That's the spirit, Blondie!" Olaf said, excitedly. "If only Carmelita could be as eager as you."
"If only," I muttered under my breath and turned to stare out the window at the city. I saw places where I had been before any of this happened. There was the clothing store where Mrs. Poe took me when she wanted to shop for that itchy clothing. I saw the market in which I had purchased that roast beef with the money Monty Kensicle lent me the first day we officially met. I knew if the cab driver took us a little farther out, we would be near the place in which Monty Kensicle had used as his home while the Quagmires and I helped him gather information for the books he was writing. We passed the street where the Rhetoric building was, in which, I learned who Monty Kensicle truly was. It seemed that we all had some sort of secret identity. I could spot a tall, shiny building I recognized as 667 Dark Avenue in which I had met Esmé and Jerome Squalor for the first time. I shuddered, recalling the time when I had been trapped in that cage at the bottom of the elevator shaft. And I also saw the bookstore where Klaus had shown me the special alcove in which he used to read with his father.
I closed my eyes, wishing I could go back to that moment—that peaceful moment before Gunther showed up and ruined our lives again. I should have said something more to Klaus on that day. I should have told him how I felt. I should have run away with the Baudelaires instead of attending the meeting with Esmé and Gunther. I could have avoided being in Count Olaf's clutches again and being locked in that cage. I wouldn't have been sold at the In Auction and I wouldn't have been caught in Count Olaf's tower. Maybe then I would never have met Jacques Snicket or watched him die before my eyes. Perhaps I would never have gone to Heimlich Hospital to discover my true identity. The bald man wouldn't have been able to hurt me and I wouldn't have had to watch him be devoured by those lions—I still had nightmares about it all—Perhaps Count Olaf never would have found out that the Baudelaires were disguised as freaks, and I never would have had to attempt to push Madame Lulu into the lion pit. Klaus never would have found a reason to hate me and maybe I could still be a good person. Maybe I could have been going to the last safe place of V.F.D. to save it rather than to destroy it. Fate had led me here and guided me to become a murderous villain.
"We're almost at the hotel," Count Olaf said, growing excited again and snapping me out of my reverie. "We're so close to success, I can almost taste it! Ha! Aren't you excited?"
"I sure am," I lied. "Thursday will be the greatest day of my life."
He smiled wickedly. "I'll destroy V.F.D. and then I'll get the Baudebrats," he said, "I'll have my associates on the look out for those brats. When I do have them in my clutches, I'll make sure they'll never escape. And I'll give you the first say in which one dies first. But I'm sure I already know the answer to that."
I nodded and felt myself biting my lip as my stomach churned again. "Whatever you say, boss," I said.
The cab pulled over at the Hotel Denouement's entrance and I gazed up at the strange building before me. I had been here before, of course, but it felt different for some reason. After all, a lot had changed since my last visit here. Then again, perhaps it wasn't the hotel that had made that change.
The cab driver pressed down on the brakes and Olaf began to get out of the car. The cab driver adjusted his mirror again and I could sort of see his face now. The man had sandy hair underneath the hat that covered his eyes. Despite trying to conceal his identity, I immediately recognized him. My eyes widened in horror as Monty Kensicle or Lemony Snicket stared back at me through the rearview mirror.
"What are you staring at Blondie?" Olaf growled and grabbed my arm to pull me out after him. I tried to make out the expression on Monty's face as I was dragged out. I knew mine must have been one of dread if I had allowed myself to show it. Of all people, now Monty Kensicle knew who I've become—about the kind of person I was destined to be.
Klaus Baudelaire
The cab moved throughout the city in which my siblings and I had once lived. The driver, a woman we hardly knew, Kit Snicket, turned the car this way and that as we gazed glumly out our windows. I was glad to see the city hadn't changed much from when our home had been destroyed, months ago. Since the day our home burned down, our lives have been nothing but a whirlwind of chaos that would forever change the path of our lives. I saw the market where Violet, Sunny, and I had purchased the ingredients we needed to make dinner for Count Olaf when he was our guardian. It still looked the same as it had then. I could also see the building, 667 Dark Avenue towering overhead. I shuddered remembering how Jane had been taken from us by Gunther and how we had found that mysterious passageway that led to our home. I also saw the bookstore in which my father and I used to go to read. I remembered that special spot we had, the place where Jane and I had sat only a few months ago. I wished I could go back to that moment and tell Jane how I felt. I wished she hadn't gone and done something so wicked. It made me hate her because I really had liked Jane. But it didn't matter now. We were strangers now. When I saw her at the hotel, I would pretend not to know her.
"You must have thousands of questions, Baudelaires," said Kit Snicket, rotating the steering wheel with her white-gloved hands. The taxi turned sharply through a metal gate and continued down a windy, narrow street lined with shrubbery. "I wish we had more time to talk, but it's already Tuesday. As it is you scarcely have time to eat your important brunch before getting into your concierge disguises and beginning your observations as flaneurs."
"Concierge?" Violet asked.
"Flaneurs?" I asked.
"Brunch?" Sunny asked.
A smile drew up on Kit's lips and the taxi made another sharp turn, causing a couple of poetry books to fall from the passenger seat to the floor of the car. I noticed the books were, The Walrus and the Carpenter, and Other Poems by Lewis Carroll, and The Waste Land by T S. Eliot. While we were on board the Queequeg, we had received a coded message in the poetry of Lewis Carroll and T.S. Eliot. Both had helped us find our way here, yet, we were still just as confused as before. "A great man once said that right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant. Do you understand what that means?"
My sisters looked at me, in expectation. "I think so," I said. "He thinks that good people are more powerful than evil people, even if evil people appear to be winning. Is he a member of V.F.D.?"
"You might say that," Kit said. "Certainly his message applies to our current situation. As you know, our organization split apart some time ago, with much bitterness on both sides."
"The schism," Violet said.
"Yes," Kit agreed with a sigh. "The schism. V.F.D. was once a united group of volunteers, trying to extinguish fires-both literally and figuratively. But now there are two groups of bitter enemies. Some of us continue to extinguish fires, but others have turned to much less noble schemes."
"Olaf," Sunny said.
"Count Olaf is one of our enemies," Kit agreed, looking at her rearview mirror with a frown, "but there are many, many more who are equally wicked, or perhaps even more so. If I'm not mistaken, you met two of them in the mountains—a man with a beard, but no hair, and a woman with hair, but no beard. There are plenty more, with all sorts of hairstyles and facial ornaments. A long time ago, of course, you could spot members of V.F.D. by the tattoos on their ankles. But now there are so many wicked people it is impossible to keep track of all our enemies—and all the while they are keeping track of us. In fact, we may have some enemies behind us at this very moment."
I turned to look out the back window of the cab and there was another behind us. The windows of the cab were tinted and prevented us from seeing anything.
"Why do you think there are enemies in that taxi?" Violet asked.
"A taxi will pick up anyone who signals for one," Kit said. "There are countless wicked people in the world, so it follows that sooner or later a taxi will pick up a wicked person."
"Or a noble one," Klaus pointed out. "Our parents took a taxi to the opera one evening when their car wouldn't start."
"I remember that evening well," Kit replied with a faint smile. "It was a performance of La Forza del Destino. Your mother was wearing a red shawl, with long feathers along the edges.
During intermission I followed them to the snack bar and slipped them a box of poison darts before Esme Squalor could catch me. It was difficult, but as one of my comrades likes to say, 'To be daunted by no difficulty; to keep heart when all have lost it; to go through intrigue spotless; to forgo even ambition when the end is gained—who can say this is not greatness?' And speaking of greatness, please hold on. We can't allow a potential enemy to follow us to our important brunch."
Kit gripped the steering wheel tightly in her gloved hands and turned it sharply so that it spun off the road. My head was spinning as the car swerved into the thick, verdant shrubbery on the side of the road. The car continued to spin so I could see nothing but a green blur as the car forced its way through the shrubbery and the branches which scraped the sides of the car. I was relieved that I was wearing my seat belt and all at once, the taxi came to a halt and my head stopped spinning. I was still a bit shaky and dizzy from the reckless driving but we were safe. I could see we were on a sloping lawn.
Kit turned off the engine and sighed heavily as she rested her head against the steering wheel.
"I probably shouldn't do that," she said, "in my condition."
"Condition?" Sunny asked.
Kit raised her head and turned to look at us for the first time. Her face was kind, though the lines on her forehead told us that she was distressed and she looked exhausted. Two pencils were stuck into her long, messy hair at odd angles. The coat she wore was black and very formal looking. It was buttoned up to her chin and a wilted flower was tucked into the lapel.
"I'm distraught," Kit said before opening the car door. She sighed again. "That's my condition. I'm distraught, and I'm pregnant." Kit removed her seatbelt and stepped out onto the lawn, and I could see that she truly was pregnant, since the coat showed her definite curve. I understood and was surprised to see how much strain she was putting herself in while pregnant.
When my mother was pregnant with Sunny, she had spent the majority of the time relaxing while our father took care of her by serving her food or adjusting her pillows. Sometimes he would play one of her favorite songs and she would dance awkwardly, making silly faces at Violet and I as we watched from the doorway. Though I knew my mother never did anything as dangerous as spinning a cab through shrubbery. I felt bad that Kit was forced to put herself through so much strain while pregnant.
"Gather all of your things, Baudelaires," Kit said, "and if you don't mind, I'm going to ask you to carry my things, too—just some books and papers in the front seat. One should never leave any belongings in a taxi, because you can never be sure if you'll see them again. Please be quick about it. Our enemies are likely to turn their taxi around and find us."
Kit headed down the sloping lawn while I exchanged bewildered glances with my sisters.
"When we arrived at Briny Beach," Violet said, "and saw the taxi waiting for us, just like the message said, I thought we were finally going to find answers to all of our questions. But I have more questions now than I ever did."
"Me too," I said. "What does Kit Snicket want with us?"
"What did she mean by concierge disguises?" Violet said.
"What did she mean by observations as flaneurs?" I asked.
"What's so important about brunch?" Violet asked.
"How did she know we met those villains in the mountains?" I asked.
"Where is Quigley Quagmire?" Violet asked.
"Is Melissa Sampson with him?" I asked.
"Trust?" Sunny said quietly, meaning, "Does Kit Snicket seem like a reliable person, and should we follow her?"
I frowned as I contemplated her question. It was difficult to decide whether we should trust Kit Snicket since we only just met her. Afterall, we had put our faith into people before and they failed us.
"In the few minutes we've known her," Violet said, "Kit Snicket has driven a taxicab into a mass of shrubbery. Normally I would be unwilling to trust such a person, but. . ."
"The poster," I said, as Violet trailed off. "I remember it, too. Mother said she purchased it during intermission, as a souvenir. She said it was the most interesting time she'd ever had at the opera, and she never wanted to forget it."
"The poster had a picture of a gun," Violet remembered, "with a trail of smoke forming the words of the title."
Sunny nodded in agreement. "La Forza del Destino," she said.
My siblings and I turned to gaze at Kit Snicket who was already a distance away from us, not looking back to see if we were following her. We said no more and gathered some of Kit's belongings, which consisted of the two poetry books and a cardboard folder, overflowing with papers. We followed Kit across the lawn, a faint unknown noise coming from behind the hedges.
I knew that the meaning of "La forza del destino" was "the force of destiny." I couldn't be sure what our destiny was at the moment-our lives were as confusing as ever-and I wasn't sure if we were headed down a road full of perils or toward the denouement of our misery. All I could do was trust that Kit wouldn't fail us the way so many other people had.
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