NEW CHAPTER! :)

First, sorry for the delay. I was in my school play which performed the past two weekends and that took a lot of time plus homework and stuff. But I hope this chapter makes up for it!

So ENJOY! And Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it!

Chapter Ten: La Forza del Destino

Jamie Murray

It was a long time before there was a knock on the door. It was a small mercy that I had a chance to watch some television and try to relax. It was hard to when I was so worried about having to shoot the crow.

I sighed and put Through the Looking Glass away before I answered the door. Count Olaf stood behind it with a wicked grin and especially shiny eyes as if his plans were already succeeding, which made me feel even worse. Soon I would be contributing to that success if I managed to shoot down the crow.

"Is it time?" I asked.

"Oh yes," Olaf said, "Aren't you excited to finally be able to assist me with my plans?"

"Of course," I lied. "Let me just grab my bag."

I went to grab my bag because I could never be sure if Olaf's scheme's would prevail or not. I wanted to be prepared.

Olaf began to pull me from the room and into the hall. As it was very late, many people were already in their rooms so finding an empty elevator was simple.

We reached the rooftop-bathing salon where Esmé was closely watching the sky with her strange glasses. Carmelita was still in her boat. Everyone else had abandoned the rooftop except for Hugo, Colette, and Kevin, of course, who were all dressed in their respective disguises.

"Esmé!" Olaf called.

Esmé turned her gaze from the sky to Olaf. "You're back, darling!" she cried in greeting and then she glanced in my direction. "Oh good," she said, "Jamie's still here. I was beginning to worry she would sneak away again."

"I suppose she's learned her lesson," Olaf said giving me an evil smirk. "In fact, she's all ready to take part in my scheme. Where's the harpoon? I want to have it ready. The crow could arrive any minute now."

"Carmelita still has it," Esmé said. "Carmelita, darling, come here and give the harpoon to Jamie."

"Stop calling me darling!" Carmelita complained. "I'm a ball-playing cowboy superhero soldier pirate!" But she climbed out of the boat and made her way over to us.

"I'm sorry dar—" Esmé caught herself. "I'm sorry you tough ball-playing cowboy superhero soldier pirate."

Carmelita looked pleased.

"Now, Carmelita," Olaf said, "Why don't you hand the harpoon gun over to Jamie so she can hit the crow?"

"But you said I could do it," Carmelita complained. "You promised to teach me how to spit if I did."

"Give the harpoon to Blondie," Olaf ordered, growing increasingly irritated.

"Why don't we just let Carmelita do it?" Esmé said. "Does it really matter whether it's Jamie or Carmelita?"

"But Jamie needs to prove herself," Olaf said, "and Carmelita could miss."

"How about they both have a turn then?" Esmé suggested. "Isn't that what we decided earlier?"

"Fine," Olaf grumbled. "But Blondie goes first. Give her the gun Car—I mean you ball-playing cowboy superhero soldier pirate."

Carmelita pouted but she gave me the gun. It felt heavy in my hands, the metal surface cool and foreboding.

"Do you see any crows?" Count Olaf asked Esmé, seeming increasingly eager for me to kill one.

Esmé searched the sky with her Vision Furthering Device.

"Nothing yet," Esmé said.

"Let's move closer to the edge so Blondie can get a better aim," Olaf suggested and began shoving me over until we stood a bit closer to the edge. He peered over the edge and then faced us with shiny eyes. "There's been a slight change of plans. I must be going."

"What's going on?" Esmé asked.

"The Baudelaires are down there and Ernest has them," Olaf said. "Ha! I'll have to go down there and retrieve them myself. Shoot the crow down and then you can meet me in the lobby. Make sure Blondie shoots the crow or she'll have to face very severe consequences. Ha!"

Count Olaf left and I was left staring nervously down at the ground far below where I could make out four dark figures who resembled the Baudelaires and Ernest Denouement. Two more figures suddenly appeared and I realized one of them was Jerome Squalor. The other figure was a woman I didn't recognize. Knowing that Olaf was going down to 'retrieve' them made my stomach churn. There was nothing I could do about it either.

"Stop worrying about them," Esmé said. "You need to be worried about whether you're going to be able to hit any of the crows."

Esmé came to stand beside me. "You probably don't even know how to hold a gun," she said, wrinkling her nose. She took the gun from my hands and set it in the right position, putting my hands into place. She must have noticed how frightened I was because she frowned.

"I know you don't want to do this," she said. "But there's nothing I can do."

I nodded sadly. "What if I miss?"

"You won't miss," she said, but she looked doubtful. Then she sighed. "How about you let me shoot the crow?"

"But Olaf threatened to hurt me if I don't do it," I said.

"He doesn't have to know," Esmé said with a wink.

"O-okay," I said. "Are you sure?"

"I don't mind," Esmé said, "It won't be the first time I've shot down a crow."

"Thanks I guess," I said.

Esmé rolled her eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. Now give me the gun."

I handed her the gun. Esmé made sure Carmelita and the freaks wouldn't tell Count Olaf about this and then we were watching the skies. All of a sudden, there was a slight ruffle. I had to squint to make out the dense murder of crows that flew past, one carrying an object that looked like a bowl—the sugarbowl. Now I wished I were wearing my Vision Furthering Device so I could try and see what was inside. Esmé pulled the red trigger and with a click, the harpoon was sent toward the crow with the sugarbowl in its grasp. The harpoon pierced the crow right through its body. It released a high-pitched shriek and it plummeted downward, disappearing into the fog emerging from the funnel.

Klaus Baudelaire

'Ha!" Count Olaf shrieked, pointing a bony finger at us and even though I wasn't happy to see him, I was at least thankful that he had changed his laugh from the irritating, long laugh he had the last time we saw him. Our enemy strode across the room toward us. "Ha!" he cried as he moved closer. "I knew I'd find you orphans again! Ha! And now you're in my clutches!"

"We're not in your clutches," Violet said. "We just happen to be standing in the same room."

"That's what you think, orphan," Olaf sneered. "I'm afraid the man who's holding your hand is one of my associates. Hand her over, Ernest. Ha!"

"Ha yourself, Olaf," Dewey Denouement said, sounding brave and steady. "I'm not Ernest, and I'm not handing her over!"

"Well, then hand her over, Frank!" Olaf said. "You might consider doing your hair differently so I can tell you apart."

"I'm not Frank, either," Dewey said.

"You can't fool me!" Count Olaf growled. "I wasn't born yesterday, you know! You're one of those idiotic twins! I should know! Thanks to me, you two are the only survivors of the entire family!"

"Triplets run in my family," Dewey said, "not twins. I'm Dewey Denouement."

Count Olaf was astonished, his one eyebrow rose. "Dewey Denouement," he murmured. "So you're a real person! I always thought you were a legendary figure, like unicorns or Giuseppe Verdi."

"Giuseppe Verdi is not a legendary figure," I said angrily. "He's an operatic composer!"

"Silence, bookworm!" Olaf ordered. "Children should not speak while adults are arguing! Hand over the orphans, adults!"

"Nobody's handing over the Baudelaires!" Justice Strauss said, her hand tightening around my hand. "You have no legal right to them or their fortune!"

"You can't just grab children as if they were pieces of fruit in a bowl!" Jerome Squalor cried. "It's injustice, and we won't have it!"

"You'd better watch yourselves," Count Olaf said, narrowing his shiny eyes. "I have associates lurking everywhere in this hotel."

"So do we," Dewey said. "Many volunteers have arrived early, and within hours the streets will be flooded with taxis carrying noble people here to this hotel."

"How can you be sure they're noble people?" Count Olaf asked. "A taxi will pick up anyone who signals for one."

"These people are associates of ours," Dewey said fiercely. "They won't fail us."

"Ha!" Count Olaf said. "You can't rely on associates. More comrades have failed me than I can count. Why, Hooky and Fiona double-crossed me just yesterday, and let you brats escape! Then they double-crossed me again and stole my submarine!"

"We can rely on our friends," Violet said quietly, "more than you can rely on yours."

"Is that so?" Count Olaf asked, leaning forward with a menacing smile. "Have you learned nothing after all your adventures?" he asked. "Every noble person has failed you, Baudelaires. Why, look at the idiots standing next to you! A judge who let me marry you, a man who gave up on you altogether, and a sub-sub-librarian who spends his life sneaking around taking notes. They're hardly a noble bunch. Not to mention your little friend, Jamie Murray, or should I say former friend. She's on my side now too thanks to you brats! Ha!"

"Charles is here, from Lucky Smells Lumbermill," I said, trying not to show my aggravation that Olaf had taken Jane from us again. This time he had taken her kind-heartedness. Yet as much as I blamed Olaf, I couldn't escape the guilt that this was partially my fault. "He cares about us."

"Sir is here," Olaf retorted. "He doesn't. Ha!"

"Hal," Sunny said.

"Vice Principal Nero and Mr. Remora," Olaf replied, counting each of those horrible people on his dirty fingers. "And that pesky little reporter from The Daily Punctilio, who's here to write silly articles praising my cocktail party. And ridiculous Mr. Poe, who arrived just hours ago to investigate a bank robbery. Ha!"

"Those people don't count," I said. "They're not associates of yours."

"They might as well be," Count Olaf replied. "They've been an enormous help. And every second, more associates of mine get closer and closer."

"So do our friends," Violet said. "They're flying across the sea as we speak, and by tomorrow, their self-sustaining hot air mobile home will land on the roof. And Melissa should be with us soon."

"Only if they've managed to survive my eagles," Count Olaf said with a growl. "And that Melissa girl is hardly a noble person. She's a little brat if you ask me and I wouldn't trust her for a second."

"They will survive," I said firmly. "Just like we've survived you."

"And how did you survive me?" Olaf asked. "The Daily Punctilio is full of your crimes. You lied to people. You stole. You abandoned people in danger. If you want an example just look at your poor former friend. You set fires. Time after time you've relied on treachery to survive, just like everyone else. There are no truly noble people in this world."

"Our parents," Sunny said fiercely.

Count Olaf seemed taken aback that Sunny had spoken, and then smiled in a way that made my skin crawl. "I guess the sub-sub-librarian hasn't told you the story about your parents," he said, "and a box of poison darts. Why don't you ask him, orphans? Why don't you ask this legendary librarian about that fateful evening at the opera?"

My siblings and I looked at Dewey in confusion. His face was turning red but before we could ask, a voice cut through the silence, interrupting us.

"Don't ask him that," Esmé Squalor said. "I have a much more important question."

She let out a mocking laugh as she emerged from the elevator followed by Carmelita Spats, who was wearing another atrocious outfit Violet had mentioned was supposed to make her look like a ball-playing cowboy superhero soldier pirate and she was holding the harpoon gun. After Carmelita, Jane emerged, looking mortified as if she had done something terrible. Three more people emerged from the elevator. First came someone who looked like an attendant from the rooftop sunbathing salon, wearing green sunglasses and a long, baggy robe. Following the attendant was the mysterious chemist from outside the sauna, dressed in a long, white coat and a surgical mask, and last out of the elevator was the washerwoman from the laundry room, with long, blond hair and rumpled clothing. They each removed the headpieces of their disguises so we could recognize them.

Jamie Murray

"Jane!" Klaus cried. I looked up at him and seized up. I didn't want to see him, especially not after how we ended things the last time we saw each other.

"Hugo!" cried Violet.

"Colette! Kevin!" cried Sunny.

"Esmé!" cried Jerome.

"Why isn't anybody calling out my name?" demanded Carmelita, angrily stomping one of her boots. She came over and pointed the harpoon gun at Violet. "I'm a ballplaying cowboy superhero soldier pirate," Carmelita crowed to her, "and you're nothing but a cakesniffer. Call my name or I'll shoot you with this harpoon gun!"

"Carmelita!" Esmé said her eyes widened in shock. "Don't point that gun at Violet!"

"Esmé's right," Count Olaf said. "Don't waste the harpoons. We may need them."

"Yes!" Esmé cried. "There's always important work to do before a cocktail party, particularly if you want it to be the innest in the world! We need to put slipcovers on the couches, and hide our associates beneath them! We need to put vases of flowers on the piano and electric eels in the fountain! We need to hang streamers and volunteers from the ceiling! We need to play music, so people can dance, and block the exits, so they can't leave! And most of all, we have to cook in food and prepare in cocktails! Food and drink are the most important aspect of every social occasion, and our in recipes—"

"The most important aspect of every social occasion isn't food and drink!" the man interrupted in aggravation. I realized he must be Frank. "It's conversation!"

"You're the one who should flee!" the woman I didn't recognize said. "Your cocktail party will be canceled, due to the host and hostess being brought to justice by the High Court!"

"You're as foolish as you were when we were neighbors," Count Olaf said and I wondered if this woman was Justice Strauss. I never met her but the Baudelaires told me about how nice she had been to them while they were staying with Count Olaf. But she was also the one who was tricked into nearly marrying Violet and Olaf. Everytime I thought of what Violet went through with almost marrying Olaf, I shuddered. "The High Court can't stop us. V.F.D. can't stop us. Hidden somewhere in this hotel is one of the most deadly fungi in the entire world. When Thursday comes, the fungus will come out of hiding and destroy everyone it touches! At last I'll be free to steal the Murray fortune, the Baudelaire fortune, and perform any other act of treachery that springs to mind!"

"You won't dare unleash the Medusoid Mycelium," Frank said. "Not while I have the sugar bowl."

"Funny you should mention the sugar bowl," Esmé Squalor said though she seemed not to appear even a bit amused. "That's just what we want to ask you about."

"The sugar bowl?" Count Olaf asked, his eyes shining bright. "Where is it?"

"The freaks will tell you," Esmé said.

"It's true, boss," said Hugo. "I may be a mere hunchback, but I saw Jane and Carmelita shoot down the crows using the harpoon gun Violet brought her."

The woman turned to Violet in astonishment. "You gave Carmelita the harpoon gun?" she gasped.

"Well, yes," Violet said. "I had to perform concierge errands as part of my disguise."

"The harpoon gun was supposed to be kept away from villains," the woman said, "not given to them. Why didn't Frank stop you?"

"I think he tried," she said quietly, "but I had to take the harpoon gun up to the roof. What else could I do?"

"You shot down the crow Jane?" Klaus said and his eyes widened in astonishment.

My forehead crinkled with worry. "Yes," I lied, though for some reason I still felt guilty. "But it shouldn't matter to you, right? You already knew I joined Olaf."

"I hit more crows!" bragged Carmelita Spats. "I hit two! That means Countie has to teach me how to spit like a real ballplaying cowboy superhero soldier pirate!"

"Don't worry, darling," Esmé said. "He'll teach you. Won't you, Olaf?"

Count Olaf sighed. "Yes, Carmelita," he said, "I'll teach you how to spit."

Colette stepped forward. "Even a contortionist like me," she said, her mouth moving beneath her elbow, "could see what happened after Carmelita shot the crows. They fell right onto the birdpaper that Klaus dangled out the window."

"You dangled the birdpaper out the window?" Jerome asked Klaus.

"Ernest told me to," Klaus said. "I had to obey him as part of my disguise."

"You can't just do what everyone tells you to do," Jerome said.

"What else could I do?" Klaus said.

"I suppose we're not so different, huh?" I said, crossing my arms and narrowing my eyes.

"When the crows hit the birdpaper," Kevin said, gesturing with one hand and then the other, "they dropped the sugar bowl. I didn't see where it went with either my right eye or my left one, which I'm sad to say are equally strong. But I did see Sunny turn the door of the laundry room into a Vernacularly Fastened Door."

"Blondie already told me that," Count Olaf cried. "But aha! The sugar bowl must have fallen down the funnel!"

"I still don't see why I had to disguise myself as a washerwoman," Kevin said timidly. "I could have just been a washerperson, and not worn this humiliating wig."

"Or you could have been a noble person," Violet said, "instead of spying on a brave volunteer."

"What else could I do?" Kevin asked, shrugging both shoulders equally high.

"You could be a volunteer yourself," Klaus said. "You too Jane. All of you could stand with us now, instead of helping Count Olaf with his schemes."

"I've made my decision," I said wearily, glancing briefly at Olaf who was narrowing his eyes at me in a silent warning. "There's no turning back now."

"I could never be a noble person," Hugo said sadly. "I have a hump on my back."

"And I'm a contortionist," Colette said. "Someone who can bend their body into unusual shapes could never be a volunteer."

"V.F.D. would never accept an ambidextrous person," Kevin said. "It's my destiny to be a treacherous person."

"Galimatias!" Sunny cried.

"Nonsense!" Frank said, who seemed to understand what Sunny meant, "I'm ambidextrous myself, and I've managed to do something worthwhile with my life. Being treacherous isn't your destiny! It's your choice! Jamie, you mustn't believe there's no way out. I knew your parents very well and they wouldn't want you to do this. You have a choice too!"

"Don't talk to my niece like that," Esmé Squalor said, "But I'm glad you feel that way. You have a choice this very moment, Frank. Tell me where the sugar bowl is, or else!"

"That's not a choice," Frank said, "and I'm not Frank."

Esmé frowned. "Then you have a choice this very moment, Ernest. Tell me where the sugar bowl is, or—"

"Dewey," Sunny said.

Esmé blinked at Sunny. "What?" she asked.

"It's true," Olaf said. "He's the real sub-sub. It turns out he's not legendary, like Verdi."

"Is that so?" Esme Squalor said. "So someone has really been cataloging everything that has happened between us?"

"It's been my life's work," Dewey said. "Eventually, every crucial secret ends up in my catalog."

"Then you know all about the sugar bowl," Esmé said, "and what's inside. You know how important that thing was, and how many lives were lost in the quest to find it. You know how difficult it was to find a container that could hold it safely, securely, and attractively. You know what it means to the Baudelaires and what it means to the Snickets." She took a step closer to Dewey, and pointed one long finger so that it was almost poking him in the eye. "And you know," she said in a terrible voice, "that it is mine."

"Not anymore," Dewey said.

"Beatrice stole it from me!" Esme cried.

"There are worse things," Dewey said, "than theft."

Esmé chuckled wickedly and I could see the others shuddering. It scared me a bit but I wasn't afraid of Esmé anymore. "There certainly are," she said, and strode toward Carmelita Spats. She moved the harpoon gun so it was pointing at the third Denouement brother. "Tell me how to open that door," she said, "or this little girl will harpoon you."

"I'm not a little girl!" Carmelita reminded Esmé nastily. "I'm a ballplaying cowboy superhero soldier pirate! And I'm not going to shoot any more harpoons until Countie teaches me how to spit."

"You'll do what we say, Carmelita," Olaf growled. "I already purchased that ridiculous outfit for you, and that boat for you to prowl the swimming pool. Point that weapon at Dewey this instant!"

"Teach me to spit!" Carmelita said.

"Point the weapon!"

"Teach me to spit!"

"Point the weapon!"

"Teach me to spit!"

"Weapon!"

"Spit!"

"Weapon!"

"Spit!"

Count Olaf roared and roughly yanked the harpoon gun out of Carmelita's hands, knocking her to the floor. "I'll never teach you how to spit as long as I live!" he shouted. "Ha!"

I knew Carmelita was rotten spoiled and the nastiest girl I've ever met, but in that moment, I found myself kneeling beside her.

"Are you okay?" I asked, holding out my hand to help her up.

Carmelita scowled at me. "I don't need your help cakesniffer."

"Darling!" I heard Esmé gasp. "You can't break your promise to our darling little girl!"

"I'm not a darling little girl!" Carmelita screamed as she got up from the ground, elbowing me as she did. "I'm a ballplaying cowboy

superhero soldier pirate!"

I sighed and got up from the ground and watched as Olaf and Esmé argued.

"You're a spoiled baby!" Olaf corrected. "I never wanted a brat like you around anyway! It's about time you were shown some discipline!"

"But discipline is out!" Esmé said.

"I don't care what's out and what's in!" Count Olaf cried. "I'm tired of having a girlfriend obsessed with fashion! All you do is sit around rooftop sunbathing salons while I run around doing all the work!"

"If I hadn't been on the roof," Esmé retorted, "the sugar bowl would have been delivered to V.F.D.! Besides, I was guarding—"

"Never mind what you were doing," Olaf said. "You're fired!"

"You can't fire me!" Esmé growled. "I quit!"

"Well, you can leave by mutual agreement," Olaf grumbled, and then, with another "Ha!" he turned his gaze on me, his eyes shining brightly. "I have a better idea," Olaf said, "You do it." He thrust the gun into my hands. "Point the gun at the sub-sub librarian Blondie."

I widened my eyes at him.

"But I don't know how to shoot," I said nervously.

"Of course you do," Olaf said with a wicked smile. "You shot that crow. This isn't any different. Now aim the gun at that man and prove yourself worthy of being my associate."

I froze, unsure of what I should do.

"Now," Olaf said, "tell me what the four phrases are or this little girl will shoot you."

"Olaf, stop!" Came Esmé's voice from behind us. I was surprised to see she was still here.

"I thought I fired you," Olaf growled, "you can't tell me to stop."

"You can do whatever you want," Esmé said, "but I'm taking Jamie with me."

"Don't touch her," Olaf hissed. "She's my employee now."

"She's a ten-year-old girl," Esmé snarled. "She's not nearly old enough to shoot someone."

"It's good enough for me," Olaf said, "Besides, you didn't have a problem with Blondie or Carmelita shooting down the crow. Up until a few moments ago, you were encouraging Jamie to continue down a villainous path."

"She's coming with me!" Esmé said angrily and marched over to take the gun out of my hands. She thrust it back at Olaf and grabbed my arm. Before she could begin to pull me away, Olaf grabbed my other arm.

"Don't even think about taking her," he snarled. "She belongs to me!"

"She's my niece," Esmé retorted, "She's mine!" Esmé pulled on my other arm and I grew worried when I realized I was becoming an object to fight over. "Abigail would have wanted me to have her," Olaf said yanking on my other arm, so I stumbled and nearly fell flat on my face. "She's mine!"

"That's not true," Esmé said, pulling on my other arm, "Abigail would turn over in her grave if she knew you had her."

"The girl stays with me!" Olaf snarled, yanking on my arm again. "I'm her legal guardian! It would be considered kidnapping if you took her!"

"I don't care!" Esmé shrieked. "She's mine!"

"She's mine!" Olaf shrieked.

"Mine!"

"Mine!"

"Mine!"

"Mine!"

"Stop it!" I exploded, a little too loudly, I'll admit, but at least they stopped tugging on my arms and I avoided any injuries.

"Don't speak to me that way, Blondie," Olaf growled. "I'm your boss."

"Nothing is going to be resolved if you keep screaming at each other," I said, "Did you learn nothing from our stay at the carnival?"

"Fine," Olaf muttered. "If you're so smart, then let me know a better way that I can snatch you from Esmé."

"Well, first, I don't like to be treated as if I'm property," I muttered. "I should have a say in this."

Count Olaf looked from me to Esmé and then they both looked toward me again.

"Alright," Olaf said, "Which one of us do you want to go with?"

I looked from Esmé to Olaf. The decision was obvious. I would choose Esmé over Olaf any day.

"Remember, Jamie," Olaf said, "I can offer you the kind of protection that Esmé is incapable of doing."

"Nice try," I said, "but I think I'm going to pick Esmé."

Olaf scowled at me. "Be careful now, Jamie," he said, his eyes growing dangerously shiny. "What makes you think that Esmé is any better than I am? Why don't you ask her what happened not too long before your mother went missing? I'm sure Esmé would love to tell you how marvelously she treated your parents."

I looked up at Esmé. She was shooting daggers at Olaf and then she met my gaze, looking very guilty.

"What happened?" I asked Esmé.

"Jamie, I—" She started.

"Don't even try to explain." Olaf said, "Jamie doesn't want to hear any of your lies and frankly, Abigail was a better associate than you."

Esmé scowled. "Fine." She said. "Keep the girl."

"But Esmé," I said, looking at her in fear that she was leaving me to do this horrible deed.

She shook her head at me. "Goodbye, Jamie," she said, "Come on, Carmelita."

I couldn't believe my eyes as she let go of my arm and began to head for the elevators with Carmelita. I tore my hand from Olaf's grasp and ran towards her.

"Don't go!" I begged. "Please don't leave!" I reached her and wrapped my arms around her, hoping she would stay.

She shoved me away from her so I was knocked to the floor and her eyes narrowed into slits. "I don't know what goes on inside that head of yours," she said each word felt like a knife in my chest, "but I'm not going to be some substitute for your mother or whatever. There's nothing I can or want to do for you. It won't make a difference which one of us you choose. I'm not going to take care of you and neither will Olaf. You're on your own."

She turned away and marched onto the elevator. Carmelita stuck her tongue out at me.

"Stupid, cakesniffer," she spat and then followed behind Esmé. The elevator doors closed and Esmé disappeared—vanishing from my life and there was no way of knowing if or when I would see her again.

Nothing. That was all I felt. Nothing. I was numb and frozen. It felt like my heart was breaking all over again. How much more of this could I take? How many more times would I feel the sting of betrayal? How many more people would abandon me the moment I needed them the most?

"I apologize for the delay," Olaf was saying, "but in just a few moments my orphan will be holding the gun and threaten to shoot you. Isn't that exciting? Jamie quit stalling and finish your job. I believe we have a little deal between the two of us too. Don't make me have to remind you."

I turned to walk back over to Olaf and clenched my fists, trying to keep from bursting into tears.

"Esmé is a terrible woman," Olaf said, putting a hand on my head. "I'm glad I fired her. Now, why don't we pick up where we left off?"

Olaf handed me the gun but I hesitated.

"Didn't you hear me?" Olaf said, "Point the gun at the sub-sub librarian this instant!"

Olaf noticed how terrified I was and leaned down so his face was level with mine.

"Remember what the Baudelaires did to you," he said in a low voice, "remember how you felt when bookworm kissed Triangle Eyes. Remember how the Baudelaires abandoned you. Remember, you're strangers now."

I did remember how I felt in those moments. I recalled the terrible instant when Klaus had said we were no longer friends, breaking my heart. I remembered the fateful moment when I had hurried over to the Queequeg only to have my heart broken further as I watched Klaus kiss Fiona, proving that not even Klaus could care for a poor orphan like me. I remembered the ache in my heart when Olaf had forced me to realize that they had abandoned me just like everyone else I ever knew. Just like Esmé. As hard as I tried to keep it in, my eyes filled with tears.

"Come on, Blondie," Olaf said, though his voice was more of that tone when he was trying to sound sympathetic. He placed a hand on my head. "Aren't you tired of letting people walk all over you? You've been treated so terribly. What have you got to lose?"

I nodded and then faced the volunteers. Jerome Squalor, Dewey Denouement, and Justice Strauss stood with the people I used to think of as my friends. But Olaf was right. I didn't have anything to lose by doing this. I never had anything to lose. Nothing. Slowly, but a little shakily I began to raise the gun and aimed it at Dewey.

The Baudelaires' eyes widened at me when they saw what I was doing. Even the volunteers were surprised.

"Don't do it Jane," I heard Klaus say.

"Meeba!" Sunny shrieked.

"We don't want to lose you like we've lost so many others," Violet said, tears filling her eyes.

"Quiet orphans! Give me the phrases you sub-sub-librarian," Olaf sneered, "or this little girl will shoot you."

"You won't find anything in the laundry room," Dewey said, "except piles of dirty sheets, a few washing and drying machines, and some extremely flammable chemicals."

"I may have a handsome, youthful glow," Olaf snarled, "but I wasn't born yesterday! Ha! If there's nothing in the laundry room, why did you put a V.F.D. lock on the door?"

"Perhaps it's just a decoy," Dewey said.

"Decoy?" Olaf said.

"'Decoy' is a word with several meanings," Dewey explained. "It can refer to a corner of a pond where ducks can be captured, or to an imitation of a duck or other animal used to attract a real specimen. Or, it can mean something used to distract people, such as a lock on a door that does not contain a certain sugar bowl."

"If the lock is a decoy, sub-sub," Count Olaf sneered, "then you won't mind telling me how to open it."

"Very well," Dewey said. I could see the fear in his eyes and that made pointing the gun at his chest harder. "The first phrase is a description of a medical condition that all three Baudelaire children share."

I saw the Baudelaires share a smile and I understood immediately what the answer must be.

"The second phrase is the weapon that left you an orphan, Olaf," Dewey said.

The Baudelaires shared a frown and I couldn't help wearing a similar expression.

"The third," Dewey said, "is the famous unfathomable question in the best-known novel by Richard Wright."

I glanced at Klaus out of the corner of my eyes but he was slowly shaking his head.

"And the fourth," Dewey said, "is the full name of the first born Murray sister."

"I don't have time to medically examine the Baudelaires," Olaf said, "or shove my face into any best-known novels!"

"Wicked people never have time for reading," Dewey said. "It's one of the reasons for their wickedness."

"I've had enough of your games!" Count Olaf roared. "Ha! If I don't hear the exact phrases used to open the lock by the time I count to ten, Jamie will fire the harpoon gun and tear you to shreds!"

"You don't have to do this Jamie," Jerome said to me. "You can still stand with us, in the name of justice instead of working for this monster."

"I'm the monster?" Olaf said, "You're the monsters! Jamie and the Baudelaires tried to warn you about me but you never listened. It was too easy for me to snatch this little orphan from you and she's going to make me a very rich man. Don't listen to this fool, Blondie. You know by now that everyone will only make you suffer."

"You should do what's right in this world, Jamie," Justice Strauss said, "I spent years as a horse thief before realizing—"

"I don't want to hear your boring stories," Count Olaf snarled. "The only thing I want to hear are the four exact phrases from Dewey's mouth, or his destiny will be death by harpoon, as soon as I say the number ten. One!"

Everything seemed to slow down as I contemplated my decision. But as much as I thought about it, Count Olaf was right. They did abandon me. Just like my parents, just like Mr. Poe, just like Esmé, just like everyone I'd ever known. It seemed like I belonged on the bad side of V.F.D. because I was unloved and clearly unwanted. What was it worth trying to be good all of the time? Maybe Monty Kensicle thought it was wrong to think that but I couldn't help it.

"Stop!" Justice Strauss cried. "In the name of the law!"

"Two!"

As I reflected on everything that had happened leading up to this moment, I was just so angry that I felt as if I wanted to shoot the harpoon. But I knew it wasn't Dewey that I wanted to kill. The person I wanted to kill the most was the man with a beard but no hair. I was more than just afraid of him, I was angry. Maybe if I pretended Dewey was the man with the beard but no hair, it would be easier.

"Stop!" Jerome Squalor pleaded. "In the name of injustice!"

"Three!"

"Stop!" Violet ordered. Klaus and Sunny nodded in firm agreement. Silently, they let go of the adults' hands and stepped in front of Dewey, protecting him from harm.

"You can't harpoon this man, Jamie," Klaus said to me. "You'll have to harpoon us first."

"Or," Sunny said, "put down gun."

Dewey Denouement looked speechless. I looked fearfully from the Baudelaires to Count Olaf. He just looked disdainfully at my former friends. "I wouldn't mind harpooning you either, orphans," he said, his eyes shining bright. "I'm sure Jamie will want her revenge. Ha! Four!"

"Please don't do this Jane," Klaus begged. "This isn't who you are."

"Maybe it is," I said, "Besides, you think I'm a murderer. This shouldn't surprise you then."

Violet took a step towards me. I hadn't moved the gun from pointing at Dewey's chest, but now that Violet moved in front of him the gun was pointed at her chest, which was unsettling. It was hard enough to have to shoot this man I barely knew. I couldn't imagine firing on Violet or Sunny or Klaus despite everything. But if I didn't go through with it, Count Olaf would make good on his promise to let the man with a beard but no hair have me. I was afraid and I didn't know what to do. "Lay down the weapon, Jane," Violet said gently. "I know you don't want to do this wicked thing."

I blinked, but I kept my aim as steady as I could. "Of course she does," Olaf said from behind me. "If the sub-sub doesn't tell us how to get the sugar bowl, then Jamie will pull the trigger no matter who's standing in front of us! Ha! Five!"

"I know the truth now," Klaus said. "Every bit of it. I read your diary so now I know everything. I know you didn't kill anyone."

"That doesn't change anything," I said but my voice shook. "It's far too late for me to go back."

Klaus took a step forward so he stood beside Violet. "It's not too late. You still have a choice, Jane," he said. "You can choose not to pull that trigger!"

"And you can choose death by harpoon!" Count Olaf cried. "Six!"

"I like you too, Jane," Klaus said, "I do. Maybe more than I should. I know I shouldn't have waited so long to tell you but I could never find the words. And every time I tried to tell you, Olaf would snatch you away again."

"Well if that's how you felt about me," I said, "then why would you have more faith in the hook-handed man than me. And why would you kiss Fiona?"

"I'm sorry," Klaus said, "I know both things were wrong but I was just hurt and confused. So many people have failed us and I was afraid. I'm sorry."

"Please," Sunny said standing beside her older brother and sister. Together, the Baudelaires walked closer and closer to me, while shielding Dewey.

"Seven!"

"I forgive you, Jane," Klaus said, "And if you want, I'll take the blame for everything. I just want you to lower the gun and stand with us again."

I felt tears pouring from my eyes as I shook my head. "I can't," I said,

"Please," Sunny said again. The Baudelaires walked slowly but steadily toward me.

"Eight!"

"Please," Klaus said as they walked closer. "I don't want to lose you again."

"Ignore the bookworm, Jamie," Olaf said, "They've done you so much wrong. Make them suffer the way you did your entire life."

At that moment, all I wanted was to get out—I wanted an end for this misery. I was tired.

"Nine!"

But as much as I tried to convince myself, I knew killing Dewey wouldn't do anything to make everything else go away. Blaming him for my suffering just because it seemed like it might alleviate my pain was wrong.

The Baudelaires reached me and put their hands on the harpoon.

"I have to do it," I said desperately. "He'll hurt me if I don't. Please just get out of the way."

"Let go, Jane," Klaus said, "Everything will be okay. No one is going to hurt you."

"Give us the gun," Violet said. "It's not your destiny to do this treacherous deed."

"Give us the gun," Klaus said. "It's not your destiny to be a wicked person."

"La Forza del Destino," Sunny said.

"They abandoned you, Jamie," Olaf whispered in my ear. "They're not your friends. They never will be. They're just trying to mess with your head so you won't kill the triplet. Now, when I say ten, you shoot. There's no other option. Do it or I'll make you suffer."

Again, I recalled all the pain I had endured in the last few days because of the Baudelaires.

But then another flood of memories blocked out all the pain. Most of them included Klaus. I remembered the day we first met. I remembered the small amount of time at the New York Boarding school when we played in the snow and drank hot chocolate before Alfonso arrived. I remembered when Klaus had convinced me to sing at the Company show even though I was afraid to. I remembered his performance of "Open Arms" and how surprised I was that he might share my feelings. I remembered the time at the Squalor's when I visited Klaus' favorite bookstore before Gunther arrived and spoiled everything. I remembered when Klaus and I had sat in the unfinished half of the hospital wing, finding comfort because despite all our hardships, we had each other. That small merciful moment had been about us. I remembered when Klaus appeared on Mount Fraught and how I had run to him, filled with a kind of happiness that I had never felt. I was so ecstatic to see that he was alive that nothing else had mattered.

This couldn't really be my destiny, right? I never asked for any of this and it seemed like there was no way out. But if those memories were as joyful as they felt to me, then there had to be more happiness out there for me…something that would give me some kind of purpose—a reason for putting out fires, instead of fighting them. Yet as I looked from Violet to Klaus and then to Sunny, I realized that the only way I could find that happiness again was if I stood with them again. I thought about the Hogwarts letter and I knew in my heart that this future wasn't mine. There was something else out there for me other than this life of crime.

Those joyful memories must be some sign that I really did have another option. And maybe that was it—maybe that's why trying to be noble had been so worth it. Our lives were full of misery. But those woeful times made the cheerful times even brighter. That kind of happiness I felt during each memory was something that no one could take away from me. Not Olaf, not Esmé, not Ernest, not the woman with hair but no beard, not even the man with a beard but no hair. No one. So it didn't matter what happened to me in the next few days in consequence of my decision. I would just have to be strong and do the right thing even if I was afraid to. I wasn't a murderer. I knew there was a better destiny for me. And that destiny would begin with a choice. "Ten!" Olaf roared the last number. The Baudelaires, Jerome, Justice Strauss, and Dewey braced their selves as they waited for the click and swoosh of the harpoon. But I was unable to move.

"Didn't you hear me, Blondie?" Olaf cried in my ear, "I said ten! Now fire!"

"No," I said, softly to myself. "No!" I cried, trying to push past my fear. With that, I lowered the gun. The Baudelaires, Jerome, Justice Strauss, and Dewey all sighed in relief.

"What are you doing?" Olaf growled. "Fire this instant or you're fired!"

"No!" I cried again. "You might think this is who I am, but you're wrong. It doesn't matter who my parents were or the kind of person Esmé is. I'm not them. I'm my own person and I'll decide what my destiny will be. Because I have a choice."

"You don't have any choices," Olaf said, "And soon you'll have nothing. Now shoot the man and I'll deal with you later."

"I said no!" I said louder, pulling my shoulders back and then I lowered my voice. "You were right," I said. "I have lost nearly everything but I don't want to lose myself too."

Olaf's lip curled up into a sneer. "I knew you would turn out to be nothing but a traitor," Olaf growled. "Just like your mother."

Olaf reached for the gun but I didn't want him to have it. I knew if I let go, he would fire and Dewey or one of the Baudelaires would get hurt.

"No!" I cried. "Let go!"

Olaf roared furiously and yanked the gun so hard that I fell back against the floor. Olaf stumbled back himself, the gun slipping from his grasp. The Baudelaires tried to the catch it but each missed in their attempts. It landed on the floor with a thud and I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping it wouldn't go off.

There was silence.

I opened my eyes. The gun lay only inches away. I worried that Olaf would grab it and finish the job.

I crawled forward and my hand closed carefully around the gun.

A very loud coughing noise made me glance up at a figure wearing pajamas with drawings of money all over them. He wore a surprised expression on his face. At that moment, there was an unmistakable click!

"No!" I gasped in horror as the harpoon sailed through the air. I concentrated my gaze on the harpoon as it traveled and suddenly, I felt a surge of energy within me. The harpoon seemed to waver slightly and shifted over so it was aiming for Dewey's lung rather than his heart. I concentrated more, hoping I could use whatever powers I had to save Dewey's life. But I was far too late and the harpoon struck Dewey all the same.

"What's going on?" Mr. Poe demanded. "I could hear people arguing all the way from Room 174. What in the world-" and in that instant he stopped, and gazed at the four of us in horror. "Baudelaires! Miss Rumary!" he gasped. But while he gasped, so did the rest of us. I gasped, and Violet gasped, and Klaus gasped, and Sunny gasped, and Justice Strauss and Jerome Squalor gasped, and Hugo, Colette, and Kevin gasped, and even Count Olaf gasped, which was very unusual. However, Dewey's gasp was the loudest—even louder than the Wrong!s of the hotel's clock as it struck two. Wrong! Wrong! the clock thundered, but all I heard was Dewey's pain-filled gasp. I watched in mute horror as he stumbled backward through the lobby, one hand on his chest, and the other clutching the tail end of the harpoon.

"Dewey!" Violet cried.

"Dewey!" Klaus cried.

"Denouement!" Sunny cried.

As for me, I was speechless—too filled with dread to find words to comprehend what I was witnessing and knowing that it was my fault.

Dewey silently stumbled backward and out of the hotel. The Baudelaires ran after him after a moment, distraught and afraid. I heard a splash! from the edge of the pond. I wondered if Dewey had fallen in there.

It didn't matter though. At that moment, all I wanted to do was run as far away from here as I could. And that's what I began to do. My legs took off, propelling me to who knows where. I had to get out of here. I had to escape. It was my entire fault and Dewey had to be the one to pay for my mistakes.

I ran outside and across the lawn, feeling dizzy and lost. But my foot caught on a root from the tree and I fell onto the hard earth. I sat up though I found I didn't have the strength to stand. Instead, I burst into tears, my chest heaving with each heart-wrenching sob.

Review!

And thanks for your input on the whether Violet should be magic! I think she'll be better off as a muggle :)