Free The Robe of Skulls by Vivian French

What’s her name? Hey, maybe I should go and join the party after all!” He pulled himself back onto his feet, his face one big grin.
    “No!” the bat squeaked as loudly as he could.
“Keep watching!”
    Marcus hesitated. There was urgency in the bat’s squeak, and reluctantly he looked down again. “She’s talking to Arry,” he said. “Nina-Rose is looking pretty sick. Now she’s walking Arry away into the rose garden — hey! Guess what? They’re going into the rose bower together. Rats! I can’t see them clearly . . . oh. Oh, no.” Marcus went pale.
    “
Tell me,
kiddo!”
    “It’s that purple smoke. . . . I saw it once before.”
    “That’s bad,” the bat said grimly. “What’s happening now?”
    “She’s coming out on her own and”— Marcus rubbed his eyes furiously —“she’s holding a
frog!
That’s so weird! Now she’s shoved the frog into her basket, and she’s sort of skipping away. . . . What’s going on? I don’t understand — why isn’t Arry coming out?”
    “Just keep watching,” the bat said.
    “The frog girl’s heading for the Royal Pavilion. Oh! She’s met Prince Albion! He’s talking to her and — yuck! — he’s kissing her hand. Oh, and there’s little Prince Vincent too —”
    Marcus’s voice was drowned out by a trumpet call, followed by the Dreghorn Brass Band bursting into a foot-tapping version of the conga. The bat groaned, flapped out of the shade, and landed on Marcus’s shoulder. “Keep looking,” he urged. “What’s the scene?”
    “They’re all dancing,” Marcus reported. “But I still can’t see Arry —”
    “The girl!” the bat hissed. “What’s
she
doing?”
    “She’s dancing too. She’s at the head of a line. . . . there’s Vincent and Albion and Tertius too — and Fedora’s there, but she doesn’t look too keen, she’s just hanging on to Tertius — and Nina-Rose as well, and about six of Nina-Rose’s little sisters. They’re doing the conga in and out of the tents — they look hysterical! Albion looks like a total idiot! Now she’s leading them around the Pavilion and across the yard to the walled garden.” Marcus snapped his fingers in time with the music. “Di-da-da-da-
dah
-da, di-da-da-da-
dah
-da! Nina-Rose’s little sisters have had enough . . . but the rest of them are going around and around and
around
the fountain, and they’re laughing like crazy — Hey! They’ve flung their crowns into the water! What’s that frog girl doing? Oh, my sainted
stars.
There’s purple smoke everywhere — I can’t see. . . . Yes, I can! Oh, no. No!
No
!
” Marcus went whiter than white and clutched at the stone wall for support.
“She’s turned them into frogs!”
he whispered. “The fountain’s full of them! She’s turned them into frogs —
what’s she done to Arry
?” Marcus lunged for the tower door.

    The bat fluttered wildly in his face.
“Watch her!”
he begged. “See what she does next!”
    But it was too late. Marcus was already hurling himself down the ladder. As he reached the belfry, his way was blocked by a burly Dreghornian in national costume.
    “Come to see the bells, m’lad?” he inquired cheerfully. “Well, I’d suggest you whiz down them stairs smartish. You don’t want to be in ’ere once they starts a-ringing, which they will do any second now.”
    Marcus seized the man by his suspenders. “Ring them
now
!” he yelled. “There’s a witch turning princes into frogs — you’ve got to warn them! Ring the bells!” And he shot away down the spiral staircase.
    The Dreghornian shook his head. “They starts drinking so young these days,” he said sadly as he checked his watch. “Exactly three o’clock.” He leaned over the stairwell and bellowed, “Let’s have those bells, Grebbin!”
    The bells rang out as Marcus reached the last step.
    At least that’ll warn everybody,
he thought as he shot out the church door. Seconds later, the sound of cheering