Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter One: In Which The Baudelaires Make New Friends- And Enemies- At School

Violet

“I feel like we’ve been sitting on this bench for ages,” Violet muttered. “Sunny’s starting to look less like a baby, and more like a toddler.”

“Spurt,” Sunny replied, by which she meant, I think we’ve all grown a bit since our misery began.

She was right, of course, though Violet didn’t feel much taller. She did feel a lot older, though, so that probably counted for something.

Just as it seemed like they would be waiting forever, a girl slightly younger than Klaus came skipping up to them. She wore a bright pink dress, and had curly red hair, which was styled into Shirley Temple-esque ringlets. Her dæmon, currently in the form of a bright blue hummingbird, flitted about her head.

“Hello, cake-sniffers!” she declared.

“Hello, um…” Violet trailed off, not quite sure what the girl meant by “cake-sniffer.”

“Um, um,” the girl mocked. “Are you a blithering idiot? Everyone knows I’m Carmelita Spats, and this is Ginger.”

“Ginger?” Violet asked, stifling a smile.

“That’s how I know you’re a cake-sniffer! If you weren’t, you’d know that he’s actually named after Ginger Rogers, the actress.”

“Good to know,” Violet replied. “Anyway, I’m Violet Baudelaire, and these are my siblings, Klaus and Sunny- and this is Prospero, Lizzie and Oliver.”

“What does cake-sniffer mean?” Klaus asked.

“It means you’re stupid cake-sniffers, but I’m the most special girl in the whole school.” She pointed to the door beside them. “This is Vice Principal Nero’s office- he’s a genius, and he likes me best. In fact, I don’t even have to wear a uniform, because I’m too adorable. Come on!”

Violet frowned, not sure if she liked the sound of that. Sure, all teachers had their favourite students- kids that they enjoyed teaching because they were polite, or engaged with the material well. But there was a huge difference, Violet thought, between that and what Carmelita had just described.

As they continued their tour, Violet’s sense of unease about her new school continued to grow. Everywhere she and her siblings went, students stared at them.

“People are looking at us,” Klaus said after a while.

“It’s probably because we’re new,” Violet replied, trying to reassure him.

“Actually, it’s because your home was destroyed in a fire,” Carmelita corrected.

They walked out onto the athletic field, which was when Violet and her siblings first learned the motto of their new school was. And once they learned what it meant, they knew at once why the story of their time here wouldn't truly have a happy ending- the same way no story can ever truly have a happy ending.

“This is the athletic field,” Carmelita said, holding her arms out to indicate the barren place. “The gym teacher is coaching an away game at the moment, so I get to make people do jumping jacks whenever I want!”

“Okay, where exactly are you getting all of this authority from?” Violet asked.

“Haven’t you been listening? I’m the most special, most adorable little girl in the whole school- Vice Principal Nero told me so.”

“Right,” Violet said. She was about to say something more when Klaus spoke up.

“Memento mori?” he asked. “Is that the school motto?” Carmelita nodded.

“What does memento mori mean?” Violet asked.

“It means, remember you will die.”

Klaus

They went back inside, walking past a large oak door, a brass plate with the word “Library” underneath the ornate glass window.

“I don’t know what that room’s like- I never go in there. It smells all dusty and icky, and the lady who works there is mean.”

“It’s a library,” Klaus pointed out. “It probably smells like old books, which is a very pleasant smell.”

“Only a cake-sniffer would think that!” Carmelita snapped.

A woman came out of the library then, carrying a large stack of books. She was wearing a yellow blouse and a black skirt, and her dark red hair was arranged in a neat bun. Klaus couldn't see what exactly her dæmon was from here, though he could see something small flitting about her head.

“Oh, hello! You must be the new students I’ve heard so much about- the Baudelaires, right?” she asked. She didn’t seem especially mean, and Klaus suspected that Carmelita just didn’t have a good impression of her.

“Of course she likes you three,” Carmelita scoffed. “Cake-sniffers always stick together.”

“Always a pleasure, Carmelita,” the librarian replied.

“A library is like an island in a vast sea of ignorance,” Klaus said, trying to get a closer look at her stack of books.

“Particularly if the library is tall and the surrounding area has been flooded,” she added. She smiled, and put the books on her head, walking back into the library. “Come visit!” she said, before the door closed.

“And finally,” Carmelita said, once their tour came full circle and they were back where they’d started. “We’re back at Vice Principal Nero’s office, where you were supposed to be ten minutes ago, so now you’re late!” She paused, like she was waiting for something.

"Thank you,” Klaus said.

“Thank you isn’t enough! It is traditional to give a special tour guide a special tip at the end!”

“A tip?” Klaus asked.

“Yes, a tip! Are you deaf and blind, cake-sniffer?”

“Here’s a tip,” Violet said. “If an older guy starts giving you way too many compliments, you kick him in the nuts and run the other way.”

“I asked for a tip, not an after school special,” Carmelita said, then knocked on the door. Her dæmon shifted into a fluffy, creamy white cat, leaping into her arms.

There was nothing pleasant about the man who answered Carmelita’s knock. His grey coat and purple waistcoat were wrinkled, his face was blotchy and red, and his hair stuck up all over the place. His dæmon, which was perched on his shoulder, was a small, green and yellow parrot.

“Who dares to interrupt a genius when he’s rehearsing?” he demanded.

“It’s the Baudelaires,” Carmelita said with a smirk. “They’re late for their appointment.”

“How dare you be late!” he barked, then looked at Carmelita. “Thank you for telling me, Carmelita. That’s a nice brooch, by the way,” he added.

“Thanks! The original owner really liked it!” she replied, then skipped away. Nero watched her go, seemingly oblivious to the way Violet was frowning at him.

“What a lovely girl,” he said. “Sweet as a butterscotch buttercup. She has two living parents.”

He ushered them into his messy office, pulled out a battered old violin and started to play. Klaus was reminded of something that his father had said once- there is nothing worse than the sound of someone who cannot play the violin, who insists on doing so anyway. Finally, he was done, and the Baudelaires stared at him in silence for a moment. He sighed.

“When you hear an incredible performance, it’s tradition to clap and cheer and yell Bravo!”

“B-bravo!” Klaus said, as he and Violet clapped awkwardly.

“Thank you, thank you very much. And welcome, new students, blah, blah, blah. My name is Vice Principal Nero, and my second-highest concern is that you uphold the strict academic standards here at Prufrock.”

“What’s your first highest concern?” Violet asked.

“My career as a violinist.” He paused for a moment. “I know all about you three- you’ve been sent from guardian to guardian, and adversity has always followed. Adversity means trouble, by the way.”

“In our case, adversity means Count Olaf,” Klaus replied. “He was the cause of all of our troubles.”

“In our case, adversity means Count Olaf!” Nero’s dæmon echoed.

“Here at Prufrock Preparatory School, there’ll be no blaming your own weaknesses on this Count Olaf person.” He walked over to an object which stood on a trolley in the corner, and whipped a cloth off of it, revealing a computer. “This is an advanced computer system, it cost an arm and a leg. I had the AV club programme it to recognise all the hallmarks of Count Olaf- from the one eyebrow to the tattoo on his ankle.”

Nero stepped in front of the machine, allowing it to register and process his facial features, before reaching a conclusion.

“This is not Count Olaf!”

“We’ll park it outside the school all semester, and you’ll be safe as peas.”

“With all due respect, I’m not sure an advanced computer system will do us much good,” Violet said. “Olaf is usually in disguise.”

“Olaf is usually in disguise!” Nero’s dæmon mimicked. Klaus could see now why she took the form of a parrot.

“I shouldn't have bothered to explain,” Nero said. “Let’s move on- Prufrock Prep has a magnificent dormitory thanks to a generous grant from our founder, Sir Barrymore Feint. Inside, there is a huge living room and an ornate cage full of tropical birds who can land of your finger and learn your name.” He smiled. “Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“It sounds more than nice,” Klaus said. “It sounds better than any place we’ve stayed in a long time.”

“Oh, I’m so glad to hear you say that!” Nero replied. “Of course, you won’t get to see it much. In order to live in the dormitory, you must have a permission slip signed by a parent or guardian. Your parents are dead, and Mr. Poe tells me your guardians have either been killed or fired you.”

“Surely Mr. Poe could sign the form?” Violet suggested.

“Surely Mr. Poe could sign the form?” this time, Nero was the one doing the mimicking. “Surely he could not. He is neither your parent nor your guardian. He works at a bank. I’m afraid that you’ll have to live in a small, tin shack- at least until we get a new set of orphans, then you’ll be upgraded to a broom closet.”

“Why can’t you change the rules so that everyone lives in a dorm?” Violet asked.

“Why can’t you change the rules so that everyone lives in a dorm?” Nero mimicked. “Because I don’t want to, that’s why.” He grabbed a piece of paper from his desk and glanced over it. “Speaking of rules, if either of you are late to your classes, your hands will be tied beyond your back during meals and you’ll have to lean down and eat your food like a dog. Violet, you will be studying with Mr. Remora in Room One, and Klaus, you will be with Mrs. Bass in Room Two.”

“Which classroom is Sunny’s?” Violet asked.

“I told Mr. Poe that we would have room for a baby here- but not in a classroom. I’ve always wanted an administrative assistant, but there was never the budget for it. Now, though, I have Sunny.” He picked up his violin. “Off to your shack!” he ordered. “Genius needs his rehearsal time.”

Violet

The expression to make a mountain out of a molehill simply means making a big deal out of a small deal. But when Violet and her siblings reached the shack that was to be their home for the time being, they soon realised that when Nero had described it, he had not been making a mountain out of a molehill- if anything, he was making a molehill out of a mountain.

“It’s very small,” Violet said. “Even for a shack.”

They pushed the door open, and found that the shack was even more dismal on the inside. There was no furniture, just three rectangular bales of hay. A collection of crabs ran all over the rest of the floorspace, and fungus dripped from the walls.

“Our shack has crabs!” Klaus exclaimed,. “And fungus!” He sat down on one of the bales, drawing up his feet so they weren’t on the floor. “This is ridiculous!”

“I know it’s a mess, but maybe we can fix it up,” Violet said.

“I don’t mean this shack, I mean this school! Orphans shouldn’t be punished for not having parents. And who ties people’s hands behind their backs to eat?”

“I know, but we have to think about the bigger picture,” Violet said, taking the slightly crumpled photo of their parents and guardians from her blazer pocket. “Our parents were a part of something- our guardians, too. It might be the reason why all these terrible things keep happening to us.”

“We’re not going to find out anything if we’re stuck here.”

“We won’t know that for sure until we’ve tried. We’re at school now, let’s see if we can learn anything.”

They started classes the following morning. Violet’s teacher, Mr. Remora, was a tall, dull-looking man with an equally dull voice. His dæmon was a small brown monkey, which sat on his desk all morning eating bananas.

“Good morning, class, including our latest orphan,” he said.

At once, all the other students in the class turned to stare at Violet, with a mixture of curiosity, pity and a rather unpleasant glee that didn’t bode well for the duration of her time here. Clearly, Carmelita wasn’t the only kid that was gonna make things difficult for them. Only one student gave her a genuine smile- a dark-haired boy who was about a year younger than her, whose dæmon was currently in the form of a jackdaw. Violet gave him a small smile in return, then turned her attention to the teacher.

“My name is Mr. Remora, and today for language arts, I will continue telling anecdotes from my own life that I find amusing. You’ll take notes, and there will be a test.”

He then told a long, boring story about one time he decided to get macaroni and cheese. Violet tried to pay attention to the story, but the teacher’s voice was so dull, and the story was so uninteresting, it was virtually impossible. Normally, she’d tie her hair up and try to think up some inventions, but today she ended up paying more attention to the boy who’d smiled at her earlier, who was now scribbling away in his notebook. She wasn’t sure why- up till now she’d not interacted with a lot of boys, and had been pretty apathetic to the whole idea of viewing them as anything other than friends. It was probably nothing to worry about, she thought, trying once again to focus on her teacher.

Klaus

Over in Classroom Two, Klaus was receiving a similar reception to the one Violet was getting across the corridor, though he didn’t know that at the time. His teacher, Mrs. Bass, was a short woman with glasses and a grey cardigan. Her dæmon was a pine marten, who sat on her shoulders.

“Good morning, children,” she announced. “May I have your undivided attention? That includes you too, Daniel. Now, I understand that we have a brand new orphan today.”

Everybody turned to look at Klaus, though only one gave him a genuine, welcoming smile- a girl about a year older than him, with long, dark brown hair and a raven dæmon. Klaus gave her a small smile in return, then tried to focus on his teacher.

“It must be difficult for you to measure how unhappy you are without your parents- but we’re gonna try. My name is Mrs. Bass, and we'll continue our lessons on the metric system by measuring various objects. Later we'll have a quiz. The first thing to measure is this jar of mayonnaise I found in my garage.”

Sunny

Sunny’s morning did not involve any boring teachers or staring pupils. Instead, she had to sit behind a large typewriter and type up letters for Vice Principal Nero. At first, it didn’t seem that bad. After all, she did know her letters, more or less. Klaus had taught her them before the fire. A is for Apple, B is for Bear... She continued like that until she got to E is for Elephant, when she had to stop and sing the song in her head instead. Not because she couldn't remember what F was supposed to stand for, but because elephants made her think of Papa, and the poem he used to recite to her. In the end, she managed to remind herself of her letters, and from there she could guess which key on the typewriter was which. Then she realised that other than hitting the buttons that had the letters on them, she didn’t actually know how to operate the typewriter, and had to learn. It really didn’t help that she couldn't spell anything, either- not even her own name. She wasn't sure if there was meant to be two Ns or one.

“Next letter!” Nero ordered. “Dear Juilliard School of Music, I was confused by your restraining order of October 13th.”

Sunny tried to type out the letter, trying to guess at how the words were spelt based on how they sounded. Deer Julie-yard skool of mew-sic… It was a shame Klaus wasn’t here, he’d be able to tell her how to spell all of these words.

“Faster!” Nero shouted. “You type like a one-year-old!”

“Eno!” Sunny replied, by which she meant, That’s because I am one, you asshole!

“Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes- Dear Juilliard School of Music, I was baffled by your restraining order of October the 13th. What did I do?”

Carmelita

Carmelita sat on the grubby bleachers of Prufrock Prep, watching the people who were doing jumping jacks. She tapped her foot on the seat bellow her, liking the noise her tap shoe made when it clacked against the wood.

“You call those jumping jacks?!” she yelled into her megaphone. “I’ve seen better jumping jacks from old people!”

She set the megaphone down beside her. Ginger went to curl into her lap, and she patted his creamy fur. She frowned, knowing that he usually did that if she was feeling lonely. I’m not lonely, though, she thought. Just cause I’m sitting on my own on a bench shouting at people, that doesn’t mean I’m lonely.

“Hey, cake-sniffer!” she shouted. “You’re as ugly as something I found in my teeth recently!”

Setting the megaphone down again, she folded her arms. She’d thought that was a pretty good insult, and that saying it out loud might make her feel a little better. It didn’t, though.

“Hey there, little girl,” a voice said from behind her.

Carmelita frowned, and turned around. There was a guy behind the bleachers, looking through a gap in the wooden boards. He had one bushy grey eyebrow, bright grey eyes and his dæmon was a bright red lizard.

“Little girl?” she asked, not sure what else to say. What was the proper response to a grown-up speaking to you from behind the bleachers? She did know that she probably shouldn't speak to strangers in the first place, but it seemed too late to go back on that now. “I’m 4’7.”

“That’s a pretty brooch you have,” the man replied.

Carmelita smiled- Nero had told her the same thing earlier. In the back of her mind, she could hear what Violet Baudelaire had told her earlier about men giving her compliments, but she tried to ignore it. For one thing, the Baudelaires were cake-sniffing orphans, what they said wasn’t important, right? Plus, Violet had only said to run the other way if she was given way too many compliments- this was only one, and it was about her brooch, not about her. So why did she want to tear the stupid thing off and throw it far away, where nobody could comment on it again?

“What do you want?” she asked.

“I like you,” he replied. “You aren’t an orphan, are you?”

“Do I look like I live in a shack?” She shook her head. Unlike some students here, she did have parents. They maybe weren’t perfect, and sure, they didn’t seem to like her very much a lot of the time, but at least she had them.

“I see. In that case, meet me under the bleachers after school.”

She nodded, thinking that was probably the safest option for now. Whether she would actually go through with it, though, she wasn’t sure. A part of her knew that she should tell somebody that there was a random guy under the bleachers, but who would listen to her or believe her? Her friends might, but they also hadn’t seen him, and besides, they couldn't do anything about it. Nero might listen, but he also might not believe her. And none of the other teachers would be any help. Maybe Miss Caliban, the librarian? No, Miss Caliban didn’t like her, she’d made that pretty clear. No, there was nobody she could tell, she would have to deal with this on her own.

Violet

Finally it was lunchtime, and Violet and Klaus could collect Sunny from work and go to get their lunch.

“How was your day?” Klaus asked, as they entered the dining hall.

“I heard nothing but pointless stories.”

“That’s language arts- although, admittedly I wish I’d been put in that class instead, it feels like years since I’ve been told any stories, pointless or otherwise. Instead I spent the morning writing meaningless measurements.”

“That’s maths,” Violet replied. She looked down at Sunny, who was walking between the two of them, holding onto both their hands for support. “How was work?”

“Diff,” she said, by which she meant, Actually it was kinda difficult- I had to operate a typewriter and try to write letters.

“We’ve been in class all day, and it feels like we haven’t actually learned anything,” Klaus said.

“To be fair, I don’t think anyone else learned anything either,” Violet replied. “Still, there may still be someone here who can answer all our questions.”

Just then, they reached the counter which ran along one side of the dining hall, where they were greeted by a tall, skinny man that they hadn’t seen since they’d left Lake Lachrymose.

“Hello!” he said. “I’m Larry, your… er… dinner person.”

“We know you,” Violet said, frowning.

“Well, of course- I work in the cafeteria.”

“That’s not what I mean- you were the waiter at Lake Lachrymose, you were dressed as a clown.”

“Perhaps you are thinking of another waiter- although, now that you mention it, I do think there’s something I have to give you.”

“What is it?” Klaus asked. “Does it have anything to do with our parents, or our guardians?”

“You’ll have all the answers you could possibly need once I give you…” He reached behind him to pull something out of his backpack, then frowned. “Wait, I’m sure it’s in here somewhere.”

He dumped the contents of the bag on the floor, and started rifling through them. His daemon helped, picking things up with her mouth and moving them out of the way. Violet noticed, now, that she took the form of a Yorkshire Terrier, something she hadn't noticed back at the Anxious Clown. She and her siblings waited patiently for him to find what he was looking for, when they were pushed out of place by Carmelita and a couple of her friends.

“Get out of my way- I deserve a heaping portion because I’m heapingly adorable.”

“No, you can wait in line just like everybody else, Carmelita.” While she may have a feeling that something wasn’t right about the way the redhead had spoken about and interacted with the vice principal, she also thought that Carmelita could do with being taken down a peg or two.

“No, I don’t have to. I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do. Vice Principal Nero likes me best, and there's a beef and bean burrito with a ribbon on it just for me.” Well, so much for that.

“This is my lunch that I brought from home,” Larry explained, holding the burrito in question up.

“Did you find the thing you were gonna give us?” Violet asked.

“Sorry, I have to look for something,” Larry replied, ignoring Carmelita and her requests for his lunch.

“What was it you were gonna give us, anyway?” Klaus asked.

“Um, macaroni and cheese, with boiled weiners!” Larry replied, scooping a portion of food onto each of the children’s plates.

Taking their trays, the Baudelaires looked around for a couple of spaces where they could sit. They looked around for a long time, because they didn’t know where exactly they should sit. Dining halls and cafeterias are confusing places, because they all have different rules, and being a new student in a new cafeteria is often confusing as a result. Normally, the Baudelaires would just sit with one of their friends, but of course they didn’t have any friends at this school yet.

It didn’t help that this wasn’t exactly a normal cafeteria- a few kids were sitting with their hands tied behind their backs, meaning they were forced to lean down to eat that food- so Nero hadn’t been exaggerating, that was a genuine rule in this stupid school.

“I hadn’t realised he was serious about that,” Klaus said.

“Hey, Baudelaires!” Carmelita called. “There’s a couple seats at my table, but I’m afraid that it’s a cake-sniffer free zone.” She set her tray down on the table and started to chant. “Cake-sniffing orphans in the Orphan Shack! Cake-sniffing orphans in the Orphan Shack!”

“Leave them alone, Carmelita- you’re the cake-sniffer, and nobody in their right mind would want to eat with you,” a boy snapped, cutting across her chanting. Violet turned, and saw that it was the dark-haired boy who’d smiled at her earlier in class.

“Come sit with us,” said a girl who was standing beside him. They looked very much alike, except that the girl’s hair was much longer. Violet smiled, and she and her siblings followed the two of them to an empty table. “You’ll have to forgive Carmelita- she’s so awful, Mrs. Bass is considering a life of crime.”

“My sister wrote a poem about her- well, she’s written a few, but that’s beside the point.”

“Shut up,” the girl muttered. Then she pulled a black notebook out of her pocket, flipped through a few pages and then read aloud from it. “I would rather eat a bowl of vampire bats/ than spend an hour with Carmelita Spats.”

“That’s a couplet,” Klaus said. “Ogden Nash uses them.”

“I know- I’ve read all of his work,” the girl replied. “I’m Isadora Quagmire, and this is my brother, Duncan.” She gestured to the dæmons who were perched on their shoulders. Isadora’s dæmon was currently in the shape of a squirrel, while Duncan’s was in the shape of a sparrow. “These are Shelley and Dorothy.”

“I’m Violet Baudelaire, and this is Klaus and Sunny,” Violet said. “And these are Prospero, Lizzie and Oliver. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Isadora said. Duncan smiled and nodded, though Violet noticed that he seemed to be paying just a little more attention to Klaus than to Violet or Sunny. “What do you guys like to do?” she asked, after a pause, like she wasn’t sure how else to continue the conversation.

“I like to invent- I’m pretty good at designing and building things,” Violet replied. “Klaus prefers reading, and Sunny likes biting things.”

“I like journalism,” Duncan said. “I had a portable typewriter, like the journalist Moxie Mallahan, but I lost it recently.” He frowned. “I’ve lost a lot of things, recently.”

“We both have,” Isadora added. “Anyway, that being said, I do hope you’re surviving the Orphan Shack.”

“It’s pretty awful so far,” Violet replied.

“We were living there until yesterday,” Isadora admitted.

“You guys are orphans too?” Violet asked.

“Yeah,” Isadora replied. “We lost our parents recently, in a terrible fire- and our brother, Quigley. We… we were triplets.”

“We’re sorry to hear that,” Violet said. “We lost our parents in a fire as well.”

“It’s not fair,” Klaus said. “One minute, you’re safe, and happy, and home, and the next, you’re in a shack full of crabs.”

“We could do something about the crabs,” Violet said, already pulling her ribbon out of her pocket. “How did you guys deal with them?”

“We taped metal to our shoes to be extra noisy- it scared the crabs, but it was exhausting to tap dance all the time.”

“Nobody likes tap dancing, except maybe Carmelita,” Isadora said, glancing over to where the younger girl was now sitting eating her lunch and (thankfully) leaving them alone for now.

“I can invent something less exhausting than tap shoes,” Violet said. “I’ll need materials, though- can everybody empty their pockets?”

They all did, producing a small pile of pens, notebooks- Duncan, it turned out, had a green one in the same style as Isadora's black one- and two spyglasses. More accurately, it was one and a half. Klaus held the one that had been recently returned to the Baudelaires by a mysterious lady disguised as a statue, and Isadora held another one- just a single, broken half.

“Where did you get that?” Klaus asked, looking from one spyglass to the other.

“We found it in the ruins of our parents’ home,” Isadora explained.

“Come on,” Violet said, leaving her tray and getting to her feet. “I think we all need to talk.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Two- In Which The Baudelaires And The Quagmires Get To Work

Klaus

They went to the Orphan Shack, and Klaus, Sunny, Duncan and Isadora sat down on the hay bales. Klaus sat on the middle bale, just a little closer to Duncan than to Isadora. He liked both triplets already, and appreciated the kind welcome they’d given him and his sisters- but there was something about Duncan in particular that drew him in.

For about a year or so, Klaus had been harbouring the suspicion that while he may like girls in theory, and respect them, he didn’t actually want to date any of them, and he probably never would, even when he was Father’s age. Until now, though, he’d not met a boy that he actually liked- and he wasn’t even entirely sure that he liked Duncan Quagmire. How could he be, when they’d only just met?

“Where did you say you found that spyglass?” Violet asked, bringing Klaus out of his thoughts. She was attaching a lightbulb to the ceiling, and adjusting a series of ropes and pulleys she’d set up around the shack.

“We found it in the ashes of our parents’ home,” Isadora explained. “We’d never seen it before.”

“Ours was left in a picnic basket by our parents- it was like they wanted us to have it, like they were passing something down,” Klaus said, remembering the moment when he had first reached into that picnic basket and felt the cool brass cylinder of the spyglass.

“It can’t be a coincidence,” Violet said. “Two fires, two spyglasses- well, one and a half.”

“Give me a second,” Duncan said, pulling his dark green notebook out of his pocket. “I’m going to write this down.” As he scribbled down the key points of what they had discussed so far, his arm kept brushing against Klaus’s- though he didn’t make any moves to move it away.

“I… I think there’s more to the spyglass.” Klaus drew his spyglass from his pocket. “See, there’s all these dials.”

He turned a few of them absently, until a small beam of light was produced. It was not so different from the light beam that had helped him and Violet to set fire to a scarf belonging to one of their previous guardians, Aunt Josephine, so they could use it as a signal.

“You could light a fire with this,” he said. “Why would our parents have a device like that?”

“Why would our parents have the same device?” Isadora asked. “They must’ve known each other,” she realised.

“Then why don’t we know each other?” Violet asked. “It’s like they were hiding all this stuff.” She reached down, and picked up the bucket that Sunny had been working on. “Thanks, Sunny!”

“Maybe they were gonna tell us, but they never got the chance,” Duncan suggested. “Maybe they were hiding it for a reason.”

“Because it’s dangerous?” Isadora suggested.

“Maybe,” Klaus replied. “You two are absolutely sure that you’ve never heard of Count Olaf?”

“We’re absolutely sure,” Duncan said. “Although, since we’ve lost our parents, we’ve seen a lot of things that we can’t explain.”

“Us too,” Violet replied. “It has to be connected.” She attached the bucket, which now had several shapes cut into it, onto the ceiling. Then she switched the lever, and the device sprung to life. The lightbulb switched on, and the bucket rotated around, sending images of fish, ladybirds and even a bat spinning around the room. “That’s better- it’s scaring the crabs away, and it gives the place a little style.”

“When we were at our Aunt Josephine's house- she was our last legal guardian, it was a long story- there was a book that may have some answers. We never got to read it, though, because it got lost in a hurricane.”

“Did it look like this?” Duncan asked, showing Klaus a page in his green notebook. The illustration showed the same large black book that Klaus had spotted at the bottom of a box of other books in his former guardian’s house. He nodded. “Our last guardian had a copy, but she hid it under the bed after she lost her wife.”

“There has to be more copies,” Klaus said. “Those can’t be the only two in the whole world, that would be way too big a coincidence.”

“Do you think the library here might have one?” Violet asked.

“It’s worth a try,” Isadora said. “Come on, if we leave now we should get there before it closes.”

Violet

When they reached the library, they were surprised to find Carmelita Spats on her own, pacing in front of the closed door like a tiny pink guard, Ginger flying over her head in his hummingbird form.

“What are you doing here?” Isadora asked, crossing her arms.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Carmelita snapped, turning to face the group. Violet noticed that she didn’t attach her usual insult to the statement.

“Not really,” Isadora replied, taking a step closer to the smaller girl.

“Every time,” Duncan muttered. “They do this practically every time.”

“Loathing?” Sunny asked, by which she meant, Why am I getting the feeling that this is just covering up for something else?

“You may be on to something there, Sunny,” Violet replied.

“I have something I need to speak to Miss Caliban about,” Carmelita said. “Not that that’s any of your business,” she added.

“What could you need to talk to Miss Caliban about?” Isadora asked. “You don’t even like to read, what could you want from a librarian?”

Before Carmelita could answer, the door opened, and the librarian, Miss Caliban, came out.

“What do you want now, Spats?” she said, in an exasperated tone which suggested she regularly clashed with Carmelita and was fed up with her.

“Nothing, it’s… it’s not important,” Carmelita replied, then turned on her heel and walked away.

“The Baudelaires, and the Quagmires!” Miss Caliban said, once she was gone. “How lovely to see you children! What can I help you with?”

“Are you still open?” Isadora asked.

Violet frowned at the librarian. She didn’t know what Carmelita had been planning on telling her, or how many times the younger girl had come to her with rudeness and insults, which had probably led to this animosity between them. Still, Carmelita had seemed pretty agitated by what she’d been planning to say, and dismissing her outright didn’t seem fair.

“I was just locking up,” Miss Caliban replied. “Ten minutes goes by so fast- I’m afraid you’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

“We can’t wait,” Duncan said. “We’re trying to find a book, it’s really important.”

“It might have the answers to all of our questions,” Klaus added.

“What’s the title?” Miss Caliban asked, turning back to the door and opening it.

“The Incomplete History Of Secret Organisations,” Klaus replied.

“Let me see what I can do,” she said, leading them all into the library.

The library was a large room, with tall rows of bookcases filled with more books than Violet had seen in a while. There was definitely more variety in the books than there had been in the Lucky Smells library, which had only had multiple copies of the same book.

“We only have a few minutes before Nero comes on his rounds,” Miss Caliban said, setting a small timer on a stack of books. “We’ll have to see if we can find this book quickly. You don’t happen to know its Dewey Decimal Number?”

“We don’t even know who wrote it,” Klaus admitted. “Or how you’d even begin to find it in the Dewey Decimal System.”

“That’s okay, that’s what I’m here for,” Miss Caliban replied.

She turned to a large filing cabinet, her dæmon fluttering over to sit on top of it. By now, Violet had guessed that it was a beetle of some kind, possibly a ladybird, though it was hard to know for sure.

“Now, let’s see.” She flipped through the files in one of the tiny drawers of the cabinet. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any book with that title.”

“That’s okay,” Violet said, though she was disappointed.

“Due to budget cuts, crumbling infrastructure, and the priorities of a certain vice principal, this library is becoming something of a dying institution.” She sighed. “However, I do have some other books you might be interested in.” Miss Caliban picked up a stack of books from a trolley which was parked beside her. “There’s The Incomplete History Of Mycology, The Incomplete History Of Cartography, The Incomplete History Of Anthropology, and The Incomplete History Of History here.”

“Those all sound fascinating,” Violet began. “But…”

“I know,” the librarian replied. “In every library, there is a single book that can answer the question that burns like a fire in the mind.”

“Where did you hear that?” Violet asked.

“I don’t know- I must have read it somewhere. Why do you ask?”

“Papa said that,” Sunny said. Violet smiled, proud of her little sister for showing signs that she was learning to communicate in ways everyone could understand.

“It’s awful to have people missing from your life, isn’t it?” Miss Caliban said. “It’s like a question that haunts you, and you never know if it will ever be answered.”

“We think it might be, though, with the right book,” Duncan said.

“Alright,” Miss Caliban said, frowning thoughtfully. “Well, a friend of mine is sending me some new titles now that she's abandoned her dissertation to become a welterweight boxer, so I'll ask her about it. Check back with me in a day or so.”

“Mind if we have a look around?” Klaus asked. Just then, the timer went off.

“Drat,” Miss Caliban muttered. “Vice Principal Nero will be here in-”

“Vice Principal Nero will be here in-” squawked Nero’s dæmon, as the vice principal entered the library.

“Vice Principal Nero is already here,” he said. “This library is supposed to be closed!”

“It is closed, and it’s empty- you must be having a bad dream,” Miss Caliban said, waving her hands in front of her face.

“That only worked on me once,” Nero replied, shaking his head.

“It was worth a try,” Miss Caliban said.

“All of you, report to the athletic field in ten minutes. Attendance is mandatory. Mandatory means anyone who doesn't come has to buy me candy and watch me eat it.” He smiled. “This is a very exciting day for me, so you orphans and you twins should be excited.”

“The Quagmires are triplets,” Klaus replied.

“You call triplets twins if one of them has burned to a crisp,” Nero said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get my violin for the pep rally.”

“Welcome to Prufrock Prep, Baudelaires,” Miss Caliban said, once he was away. “In a world too often governed by corruption and arrogance, it can be difficult to stay true to one's philosophical and literary principles.”

“We wholeheartedly agree,” Klaus replied.

“All decent people do,” Miss Caliban said with a smile.

Duncan

They left the library, but they didn’t go straight to the pep rally. Instead, they stood outside the library for a few minutes.

“I wanted to find that book,” Klaus said.

“We still could,” Duncan replied. Part of him wanted to be the one to find the book, if there was a chance it might make Klaus smile. But he also wanted to find the book in general, to know what secrets it contained. “We’ll make a plan.”

“We can have a look again after the pep rally,” Violet said. “Surely that can’t take too long.”

“You’d be surprised,” Isadora replied. “They last for hours- and then on top of that we’ll have to go to his nightly violin recital. Most of the day is gonna be lost because we’re being forced to listen to somebody who can’t play violin insist on playing violin.”

“We could try again tomorrow, though,” Duncan added. “In the meantime, though, we can sneak in some fruit for the pep rally- we’ll bring some for you, too.”

“Thank you,” Klaus replied, smiling. Duncan couldn’t help smiling back. While he was aware that he’d only known Klaus Baudelaire a short time, and there was still a lot that he didn’t know about him, it felt like they’d known each other for far longer.

“It’s no trouble,” Isadora said, which was more than Duncan thought he could manage at the moment. “Our broom closet's next to the fruit bowl.”

“I don’t mean for the fruit,” Klaus replied. “I mean for making us feel at home. It’s been a long time since we’ve felt at home.”

“Well, I’m sure you already know,” Duncan said. Dorothy shifted into a small brown spaniel, wagging her tail in agreement.

“Know what?” Klaus asked.

“What friends are for,” he replied. “We’ll see you at the pep rally,” he added, before he and Isadora turned to leave.

As they walked down the corridor away from their friends, Isadora lightly tugged on Duncan’s sleeve.

“What?” he asked. Isadora rolled her eyes.

“You should really tell Klaus that you like him- it’s obvious that he likes you, too.”

Duncan wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He did like Klaus- he liked him a lot, in fact. There didn’t seem to be much point in denying that fact, and he didn’t really want to deny it either. Before he could think of anything to say, though, they turned a corner and saw something that effectively stopped their conversation in its tracks.

A tall, skinny man dressed almost all in grey stood in front of them. He had one long grey eyebrow, and seemed almost devoid of colour, save for his dæmon, a small, scarlet salamander, which was perched on his shoulder.

“Hello, hello, hello,” he said, smiling down at Duncan and Isadora. “What are helpless orphans like you doing in a place like this?”

“Wait, who are you?” Duncan asked, frowning. The man rolled his eyes.

“Don’t pretend that this handsome face doesn’t haunt your every waking and sleeping hour,” he replied. “You will never be rid of me, and you will never be safe. The three of you better… wait. You two better…” he frowned, looking from Duncan to Isadora, then down to the floor. “Wait, where’s the midget?” He shook his head. “You aren’t the Baudelaires! Who are you?”

“Who are you, you miscreant?” Duncan countered. Dorothy gave an irritated bark.

“Miscreant?” the man asked, frowning again. “Oh- I know who you are now. You sound just like your mother, Quigley.”

“My name’s Duncan.”

“Whatever,” he replied. “You miscreant, never again will you darken the doors of this hangar! Oh, she was such a tiresome woman- always reading Italian poetry and activating trap doors.”

“How did you know our mother?” Isadora asked.

“Oh, it’s a long story- you don’t want to hear it. Besides- that’s the least of what I know, orphans. I know the number of hairs on each of your heads, the number of sapphires in your secret vaults, the number of tombstones in your family plots. Well, well, it seems this trip to Prufrock will bring me twice the fortune. And there's nobody who can stop me.”

“Hey!” a voice from the other end of the corridor. The man turned, and Duncan looked past him. Carmelita Spats was standing at the end of the corridor, next to the man from the cafeteria.

“Larry?” the man asked, confused. Both Carmelita and Larry disappeared down the corridor, and the man followed after them without a backward glance at Duncan or Isadora.

When he was gone, Duncan pulled his dark green notebook out of his pocket, flipping through it to find the information he needed. Finally, he found the list of relevant details of Count Olaf’s appearance that the Baudelaires had shared.

“He definitely had one eyebrow, and his dæmon was a scarlet salamander,” he said, comparing the list with the man they’d just met.

“I bet he had the tattoo on his ankle, too,” Isadora added. “Come on, we have to warn the Baudelaires that something terrible is going to happen- besides the pep rally, I mean.”

Carmelita

Carmelita didn’t really want to be going after Larry the cafeteria worker. That burrito hadn’t even been very good in the end. But the man she’d met behind the bleachers earlier- who’d introduced himself as Count Olaf- had told her to look into any strange adults who’d showed up at Prufrock in the last couple of days, excluding him and his cohorts, obviously.

She still didn’t know what to do about Count Olaf. For now she was following his instructions, since it seemed safer than openly going against him. Despite that, though, she had tried to do something about him, even if nothing had come of it. She’d tried going to Miss Caliban, though she’d backed out once the librarian had left the library and spoken to her- and she’d called his attention away from Isadora Quagmire and her dorky brother earlier, though why he’d been talking to them in the first place she still didn’t know.

She found the cafeteria guy in the kitchen, his back to the fridge door. She walked up to him, Ginger flitting around her head, her tap shoes clacking on the floor.

“Why won’t you leave me alone?” he asked, holding up a soup ladle.

“Believe me, if I could leave you alone and carry on with my day, I would.” There was a whole speech she was supposed to give, but she wasn’t clear on which parts she was supposed to say, and which parts she was supposed to leave out.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve made me suffer for long enough,” she replied, deciding to just press on and say the whole speech.

“Seriously, what are you talking about? I’ve only been working at this school for a couple of days.”

“For years you've infiltrated my schemes, relying on morals and literature to muck up my life. Well, these are your victoriously final days.” Just as she’d finished, the Count entered the kitchen, walking up to Carmelita and the cafeteria worker. “How was that?” she asked.

“Not bad, although those last few lines were actually for me,” he replied.

“You probably should’ve specified that,” she said. “I was adorable when I said them, though.”

“That’s not what matters, though- theatre is about context.” He shook his head. “Never mind that, though- run along, the adults are speaking.”

Carmelita didn’t need to be told twice- she turned on her heel and walked away from the kitchen before either of the adults could say anything more.

Isadora

The pep rally was now in full swing. Isadora and Duncan slid into seats next to their friends. They’d forgotten to get fruit from the dormitories- seeing that the villainous Count Olaf had arrived at the school had made them forget about their original plan.

“Baudelaires!” Isadora shouted, trying to be heard over the noise. “We think you’re in danger!”

“What’s wrong?” Violet asked. “Did you see something?”

“We’re pretty sure we saw Count Olaf!” Isadora replied.

“What?” Klaus asked.

“We think Count Olaf is here!” Duncan shouted.

“What?” Violet asked.

Before Isadora could respond, though, Vice Principal Nero stepped onto the stage, waving his violin bow a few times to silence the audience. Isadora turned her attention to the stage, where three people had joined the Vice Principal. One of them was Carmelita, dressed in her bright pink cheerleader uniform, and who had been leading the audience in various chants and cheers. The other three, Isadora had never seen before. There were two old ladies with light brown cat-dæmons, dressed in the official red and black cheerleader uniform, and a tall person of unclear gender, with dark hair and a long white coat. Their dæmon was a small blue bird.

“Thank you, thank you,” Nero said, once the audience were silent. “Welcome to the mandatory pep rally. I don’t know which I like more, the word pep or the word rally.”

Isadora looked from the stage to her brother and her friends. Duncan was checking something in his notebook, and Violet, Klaus and Sunny were frowning up at the three strange adults on the stage.

“Maybe we should ask our mascot!” Nero called. “What do you say?”

“What’s the mascot?” Violet asked.

“A dead horse!” Isadora replied. “But that’s not important!”

“What do you mean?”

“My brother and I saw…” Isadora began, but before she could continue, Mrs Bass tapped her shoulder.

“Be quiet, Miss Quagmire,” she said. Isadora sighed, and decided to wait a little longer for another opportunity to tell her friends what she and Duncan had seen.

“Now, I know that things have seemed less than peppy since our athletes, cheerleaders and beloved gym teacher vanished on the way home from that away game,” Nero continued. “However, Prufrock Preparatory School has a motto. It's memento mori. It's an ancient Greek saying…”

“Latin,” Klaus muttered.

“… Which means, Remember, you will die. And soon, indeed, the sun will set, the fiery orb of life, leaving me alone!” he cried, looking up to the sky dramatically. “Alone! Alone!” He was quiet for a moment, before continuing in a more normal voice. “Until, of course, you meet someone who truly understands and supports you with friendship, camaraderie and cash bribes. Our gym teacher was irreplaceable, but I have found someone I know who can fill her shoes.”

Isadora’s gaze flicked once again to her friends. She had a horrible, sinking feeling about who this new gym teacher was, and realised that this was her last chance to warn her friends about what she and Duncan had seen. Duncan seemed to have gotten the same idea, as he was writing out the words Count Olaf is here in large letters on a clean page on his notebook.

“… And now, please welcome to the stage, a man with no résumé, no letters of recommendation, no credit history, but with such a marvelous ear for music that I've hired him as the newest member of our faculty!” The person in the white coat stepped forward, but Nero shook his head at them. “No, no, not you.” They stepped back, somewhat awkwardly. “Allow me to present your new gym teacher, Coach Genghis!”

Just then, a tall, skinny man dressed in a red tracksuit and a white turban crashed through the large drum on the stage. While it was a little harder to make out his salamander-dæmon from this distance, and his single grey eyebrow was hidden beneath the turban, Isadora could still see that he was the same man she and Duncan had met in the corridor- and looking at her brother and her friends, she knew they had come to the same conclusion.

“So much to learn,” he said, in a false Southern drawl. “So much to learn, and I am here to school you.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Three: In Which The Baudelaires Begin Their Special Orphan Running Exercises

Carmelita

“Who can’t be beat?” Carmelita cheered.

“A dead horse!” the other students echoed.

“Who can’t be beat?”

“A dead horse!”

Carmelita continued to lead the other students in their cheering. It seemed important to at least attempt to act natural, to pretend that there was nothing wrong. Nobody else seemed to notice anything wrong- not Vice Principal Nero, not the teachers, and not the other students. Wait- she cast her gaze over the crowd, to the only five students who weren’t joining the cheering. The Baudelaires and the Quagmires didn’t look convinced by their new gym coach- and they seemed to be the only ones.

“I love the energy, I love it!” Olaf- no, Coach Genghis, she should probably be thinking of him by that name from now on- said, smiling widely.

“Yes, yes, it’s wonderful,” Nero said. “Now, let’s settle down, everyone.”

“Settle down?” Genghis asked, frowning at Nero. Carmelita noticed that he was using a fake voice, and wondered if that was necessary or if he was just doing it because he felt like it. “Did you hear what Vice Principal Shapiro just said?”

“Nero,” Nero corrected.

“Settle down. How often I hear those words come out of people's ears and into my mouth. Settle, a word which here means settling for less, and down, my personal least favourite direction. Let me tell you a story. Some years ago, a woman came to me. She needed my help.”

As he continued to go on, Carmelita tuned him out. Instead, she looked over to where the Baudelaires and the Quagmires were sitting. None of them looked happy- even from here, she could see Klaus’s dæmon beside his chair, her tail sticking straight up and her back arched, radiating anger and hostility. Don’t do anything stupid, she wanted to tell them.

“...And what did I say to her?” Genghis asked, bringing her out of her thoughts. “Do you think I told her to settle down? Answer me, pippity-squeaks! Do you think I told her to… settle down?” He glanced at Carmelita, who managed to smile.

“Probably not!” she said, shaking her pompoms.

“Probably not!” all but five of the students echoed.

“Probably not, indeed!” Genghis said. “I told her to stand up. I told her to actualize and incentivize. I told her to keep her eyes in the clouds and her feet on the stars. Do you know what happened?” Here, he looked across the crowd, looking directly at the Baudelaires. “She died in a mysterious fire.”

“Wait, what?” Nero asked, his dæmon cocking her small head in confusion.

“Settling down is what losers do,” Genghis continued, as if he hadn’t spoken.

“But what about that woman you were talking about?” Nero tried again.

“Settling down started World War 1,” Genghis said, ignoring him again. Nero opened his mouth again, then closed it, which was probably for the best. “Settling down is what happens when you bite your lip, and your lip gets swollen, so you bite your lip again, and then you keep biting your lip over and over. I don't want that. Do you want that, Prufrock Prep?”

“No!” cried the audience. Genghis smiled down at them.

“Let's bring in the violin!” he cried.

Carmelita allowed herself just a second to frown as she looked from the fake coach to her fellow students and back again, wishing that someone would do something, that she wouldn't have to keep pretending this was normal for much longer.

Klaus

Klaus glared up at the stage, not wanting to believe this was happening again but unfortunately unable to deny it. Olaf was here again, and everyone here seemed to be buying into his latest stupid alias. What was he planning this time, and what would they need to do to stop him?

“The whole school is falling for the treachery of an unhinged villain,” he said, turning from the stage to his sisters and their friends.

“That always happens at pep rallies,” Duncan replied, shaking his head. His dæmon, currently in her sparrow form, perched on his shoulder, nodding her own head in agreement.

“This might be our only chance to stop him,” Klaus said, getting to his feet before he could change his mind. “Sunny, you stay here,” he added. Quickly, he made his way to the stage, Violet following behind him, Lizzie, still in her cat form, walking beside him. “Stop the music!” he shouted, once they reached the stage.

“Everyone listen, please!” Violet added.

“How dare you interrupt a genius!” Nero snapped, his dæmon flapping her wings in irritation.

“And his guest violinist!” Olaf added.

Klaus rolled his eyes, tempted to say, Neither of you are a genius, you’re both awful idiots. Instead, he settled for saying something that was slightly less rude, but still true.

“This man is not a genius!” he said. “This man is an imposter!”

“The term is improviser,” Nero countered, and it was all Klaus could do not to snap at him and tell him that contrary to his own beliefs, this wasn’t actually about him at all.

“This so-called gym teacher is the notorious villain Count Olaf. As long as he's at Prufrock Prep, nobody is safe.” Violet said.

“What are you doing?” Carmelita hissed. “Nobody’s going to take you seriously if you just blurt it out like that.”

Klaus frowned at her. Of all the people to believe them, he hadn’t expected Carmelita Spats to be one of them.

“This man is Count Olaf, and we can prove it,” he said, although by now he knew just how difficult it would probably be to prove it. Every time, he and his sisters had tried to point out Olaf’s more distinct identifying features, and every time, Olaf covered them up with disguises and excuses that would make them seem either idiotic, rude or both if they questioned them. Why would this time be any different?

“The Baudelaires seem like honest and decent people!” Miss Caliban said, standing up. “We should listen to what they have to say.” Then Mr. Remora muttered something, and she sat back down again.

“Count Olaf, who is wanted by the authorities for suspicion of fraud, theft, murder and child endangerment,” Violet continued.

“And arson,” chipped in Olaf’s dark-haired henchperson, which earned them an irritated glare from Olaf.

“… Who has one eyebrow instead of two,” Violet went on. “In fact, if Count Olaf would take off his turban for a second...” she added, reaching up for the white cloth Olaf had piled on top of his head. He stepped out of her reach before she could get hold of it, though.

“Isn’t she marvellous, everybody?” he said, as though Violet were a star performer on stage, not a girl attempting to call his crimes to attention. “I'm afraid my two glorious eyebrows will remain hidden underneath this turban, which I wear for religious reasons.”

“And what religion might that be?” Klaus asked, honestly curious as to how he was going to explain this one.

“Reconstructionist Judaism,” someone hissed from the direction of where the mascot stood in the corner.

“Reconst… ism,” Olaf said, and Klaus didn’t know whether to laugh or smack his face at this blatantly made-up excuse. “Yes, that.”

“This isn’t even a good excuse,” Lizzie whispered, only loud enough for Klaus to hear. “No way anyone’s going to be convinced by this one.”

“Well, I would never ask you to remove your turban,” Nero replied. Klaus wasn’t sure if he should be more annoyed at the Vice Principal for buying the excuse, or himself for still believing that just once Olaf’s lies would fail him and he’d be caught. “I'm against religious persecution, but I can't speak for the orphans.”

“He’s doing it again,” Lizzie whispered. “Making us look bad to get more support.”

“I can see that,” Klaus whispered back, before saying, in a louder voice, “Olaf can also be identified by the tattoo of an eye on his ankle.”

“My body is a temple, young man!” Olaf said with an indignant scoff. “I would never sully my skin the way so many young people do nowadays with their hedonistic lifestyle of loud music and abstinence.”

Klaus rolled his eyes, not convinced. “Why don't you take off your shoes and prove it?”

“Absolutely not,” Olaf replied.

“Is that for religious reasons, too?” Klaus asked, getting more and more fed up with each moment.

“No, it's because taking your shoes and socks off is gross.”

“You’re the one that’s gross,” Lizzie whispered, and Klaus had to agree with her.

“We can compare Genghis to the photograph of Olaf in The Daily Punctilio,” he tried again. “Does anyone have a copy of the Daily Punctilio we can look at?”

“You sound like a boring librarian,” Nero said, shaking his head. “Plus, we don’t need newspapers now that we have our advanced computer system!”

The advanced computer was rolled onto the stage. Olaf’s eyes darted around, looking at anything but the computer. Klaus allowed himself a small smile, thinking that now they might be getting somewhere.

“Look, he can’t even look at the computer, he’s too nervous,” he pointed out.

“No, no, I just… I, er…”

“Well, if you wouldn't mind standing in front of this very expensive electronic device and just clear this matter up, once and for all?”

Taking hold of the computer, Klaus and Violet rolled it across the stage, right at Olaf. He backed away from it, right to the edge of the stage, where unfortunately the computer stopped rolling and did not cause him to topple off the stage. For a moment, the computer was silence, and Klaus allowed himself to hope, just for a second, that it would say what he wanted it to say. Then, finally, the automated voice spoke up.

“This is not Count Olaf,” it said, and it was all Klaus could do not to kick it in its stupid metal face.

“Well, now that we’ve cleared that up, I think this calls for a little democracy, my second favourite style of government,” Olaf said, sounding far too pleased with himself. “How many of you want to hear more tiresome accusations hurled at an innocent man from orphans?”

“Investigate further!” Duncan called, and Klaus could’ve hugged him.

“We demand that this issue get further scrutiny!” Isadora added.

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” Olaf said, then clapped his hands together. “Students, faculty, in addition to normal gym lessons which will absolutely be going ahead, I plan to offer an additional programme to a few select students. Now, as anyone who has been to junior college knows, orphans tend to have unsound bodies, which leads to paranoia, delusion and untapped wealth.” Klaus frowned, wondering where he was going with this. “That's why I have developed the Special Orphans Running Exercises, or S.O.R.E. for short. Will the orphans in the house please stand?”

Klaus and Violet were already standing, and they watched as Sunny climbed up onto her chair, Duncan and Isadora stood up, and, surprisingly, Miss Caliban did the same- perhaps in solidarity, or perhaps she actually was an orphan herself.

“Okay, okay,” Olaf said. Even before he made his choices, though, Klaus could’ve guessed who they would be. “I choose… you,” he said, pointing to Violet, “and… oh, you,” he added pointing to Klaus, and finally, “and the little baby secretary I've heard so much about. The three of you will report to the athletics field at sundown and every night until further notice.”

“This does not excuse you from missing my nightly violin recital,” Nero chipped in. “The three of you are going to owe me a lot of candy.”

“Now, that’s the sort of leadership we need more of! You really are a genius,” Olaf replied.

“You’re a genius for noticing,” Nero replied, smiling, his dæmon flapping her wings happily. They went back and forth for a little longer, before Nero finally said, “everybody is dismissed, this pep rally is over!”

Everybody filed out of their seats, including the Quagmires and Miss Caliban, until only Klaus, his sisters and Olaf were left in the courtyard. Sunny toddled over to the stage, climbing up so she could stand beside her siblings.

“Whatever you’re up to, Count Olaf, we will put a stop to it,” Violet said.

“Really?” Olaf asked, rolling his eyes. “That’s funny, because it seems to me that if you really had the skills to stop me, we wouldn’t be having this lovely new instalment in this tragic tale, now would we?” He paused, shaking his head. “Oh, orphans, your parents really taught you nothing at all.”

“They taught us to survive,” Klaus snapped, hating the flippant way he talked about their parents.

“Well, I guess those who can't do, teach,” he replied, and it was all Klaus could do not to hit him there and then. “See you at sundown,” he added, and walked away.

Violet

Violet and her siblings headed straight to the Orphan Shack, Violet slamming the door behind them. Luckily, that didn’t send the whole structure crashing down, though it did make it wobble a little.

“He found us again,” Klaus said, slumping down onto one of the hay bales. “Everywhere we go, he shows up to steal our fortune.”

“How can he get our fortune as a gym teacher, though?” Violet asked, taking a seat on the bale beside him. Klaus shrugged.

“There’s treachery lurking in most exercise programmes,” he replied.

“I just can’t believe that he managed to fool everyone all over again.”

Just then, the door opened, and Duncan and Isadora squeezed their way into the shack.

“He didn’t fool everyone,” Duncan said, closing the door quietly behind him and his sister.

“Don’t worry, Baudelaires, don’t feel disgrace. The Quagmire triplets are on the case,” Isadora recited. Violet smiled, though it faded when she realised the full implications of Isadora’s latest poem.

“Look, you’re both very kind and generous, and we’re grateful for all you’ve done for us, but we can’t let you get involved.”

“Violet's right,” Klaus said. “Olaf is too dangerous.”

“Exactly,” Sunny added, from where she sat on the floor, Oliver coiled around her small shoulders, baring her teeth at the crabs as though daring them to come closer.

“He’s too dangerous for you to face alone,” Duncan countered. “We could run away, all of us, right now.”

“Our parents own the famous Quagmire Sapphires,” Isadora added. “So when we come of age, we can live on our own.”

“But we aren’t of age yet,” Violet pointed out. “You guys are what, thirteen?” They nodded. “Right, and I’m only fourteen. So that’s four years before we get the Baudelaire fortune, and five years before you guys get your sapphires. We can’t wait that long. And besides, we tried running away, and we ended up working in a lumber mill- and Count Olaf still found us there.”

The picture of their parents and guardians that they’d taken from Aunt Josephine’s house was still pinned to the wall where they’d put it the first day, although it was crumpled and worn by now. Isadora looked at it at the same time Violet did, seeming to notice it for the first time.

“That’s a picture of our parents,” she said, pointing to the dark-haired couple standing beside the Baudelaire parents. “Who are all these other people?”

“Those are our parents,” Violet said, going over to the picture so she could show her friend. “The man with the snake-dæmon and the woman with the eagle-dæmon were two of our guardians.”

“Uncle Monty,” Sunny said, “and Auntie Josie.”

“They all knew each other,” Klaus said. “Which means we’re right, this is all connected.”

“There must be a lot of mysteries that we’re only now noticing,” Duncan added. “Like why did your parents leave you that spyglass? And what is that book, and why does it matter?”

“We have to survive long enough to figure all this out,” Violet said. “And I think that book is gonna at least put us on the right track.”

“Miss Caliban said to check back in a day or so,” Duncan replied. “But we don’t really have that kind of time any more, it’s almost sundown.”

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. Reluctantly, Violet opened it. She was not especially surprised to see Carmelita, still in her cheerleading outfit, still wielding her pompoms. She sighed, but decided it was probably best to just let her do her thing, and hope she did it quickly.

“I’m here to deliver a special message to the Baudelaires,” she announced. “The sun is set, hooray hooray, Coach Genghis sent me here to say, the Baudelaires must go to the field!” she sang. “And my name is Carmelita!” she added, as though there could be any doubt on that matter.

“That doesn’t rhyme,” Isadora said, giving her a withering stare.

“Only cake-sniffers care about poetic form!” Carmelita snapped.

“Anyone who actually wants to get better at writing songs should care about poetic form,” Isadora countered. “If wanting to get better at what I do makes me a cake-sniffer, then I’ll consider that a badge of honour.”

Carmelita was silent for a second, then she turned on her heel and flounced away, and Violet noticed Isadora was the only one who watched her go- though she wouldn't mention it, not right now. Right now, they had to get to the field.

Sunny

To say that Sunny Baudelaire was not really used to walking was something of an understatement. Until fairly recently, she had gotten about mainly by crawling and being carried by her siblings. Even now, she felt most confident walking when she could hold onto Violet with one hand and Klaus with the other, and walk between them, like she was doing right now.

Thus, she wasn’t really thinking of what Olaf could want with them, or what his “Special Orphan Running Exercises” would actually entail. She was far too focused on putting one foot in front of the other, getting to the sports field.

Finally, they reached the sports field, where Olaf and Nero were waiting. There was nobody else out here- not a single one of Olaf’s henchpeople, or anyone else who he might have got to help him whisk them away.

“Punctuation, orphans, punctuation!” Olaf said, once they were standing in front of him. Sunny looked up at Klaus. That didn’t seem like the right word, but Klaus would know for sure.

“Punctuation?” he asked. There- it wasn’t the right word. “Don’t you mean punctuality?” What was punctuation, then? She’d have to ask Klaus when they had a moment.

“You said to be here at sundown,” Violet said. “We’re not late.”

“That’s curious- someone just referred to you as the late Baudelaires. Maybe they were talking about your parents.”

Sunny wondered what would happen if she kicked him. She should be allowed to do that, at least once- it seemed only fair. He shouldn’t be allowed to talk about Mama and Papa like that and not have anything bad happen because of it. There’s a word for that, she thought, for when bad things happen to bad people. Caramel? Camel? No, those didn’t sound right.

“That reminds me of a story,” Olaf said, before she could think more about what the right word was. “Some years ago, a set of wealthy children came to me, needing my help. There were three of them, one of each. Girl, boy and baby. Coach Genghis, they said to me, we're failures. Our parents have abandoned us for careers as burnt-up skeletons. We have nothing in our lives but all these bags of money, and they're making us failures who read books and stuff. And do you know what I told them?”

Seriously, Sunny thought to herself. I should be allowed to kick him, just once. Mama and Papa didn’t abandon us, he shouldn’t say that they did, that’s not true.

“I know this one!” Nero said. Good for you, Sunny wanted to say. “Did you tell them to stand up?” Olaf rolled his eyes.

“They were already standing.”

“To actualize and incentivize?” Nero tried again.

“That doesn't mean anything,” Olaf replied, shaking his head for emphasis. Then he held up three pairs of shoes in one hand, and a bucket and paintbrush in the other. “I told them to put on some very expensive running shoes and then to take this bucket of luminous paint. Luminous,” he added, “is a word I invented for things that glow in the dark.”

“We know what luminous means,” Klaus snapped.

“And then they are to drag this bucket around and around until they have made a luminous circle on the ground.”

“That's it?” Violet asked. She sounded confused, which didn’t really put Sunny at ease. She might not say it out loud, but she kind of needed Violet and Klaus to at least have an idea what was going on, because they knew a lot more about the world than she did, and if they didn’t know what was happening, what chance did she have?

“Yes, that's my exercise program. Genius ideas are simple, like the wheel or neurosurgery. The orphans will run around and around and around in a circle to exercise their mother-and father-less legs.”

Run? Sunny had only just got the hang of this walking thing, how was she supposed to run anywhere? And how come Olaf was making them do something so… silly, anyway? It didn’t make any sense. What did making them run around in a circle have to do with getting their parents’ fortune?

It didn’t become any clearer after Nero had left for his concert, or after they had finished painting the glowy circle, or after they had started to run around it- or in Sunny’s case, walk as quickly as she could. Nothing made any sense, not even a little bit.

Carmelita

On her own again, Carmelita found herself wandering down the corridors of Prufrock, not too sure where she wanted to go. The halls were too quiet, though, so she filled the silence by singing to herself- not one of her own songs, though, just a few snippets of ones she remembered from listening to a perfectly reasonable amount of musical theatre.

She was soon distracted from her singing, however, by the sight of a man walking round the corner. He had dark brown hair and a dark jacket- he seemed almost as dark as Count Olaf was grey, and much like the Count, the only thing brightening his colour scheme was his dæmon, a small green salamander.

“Who are you, and what are you doing at this school?” she demanded. It was then that she noticed that he was carrying the cafeteria guy, who appeared to be frozen.

“You must be Carmelita Spats,” the dark-haired man said. Carmelita took a small, clacking step backwards, not liking the fact that some cake-sniffing stranger knew who she was.

“How do you know who I am, cake-sniffer?”

“I work for an organization that keeps tabs on young people of interest.”

“Well, obviously, I'm interesting,” she replied, staying calm. She was getting very good at pretending everything was fine and normal.

“Interesting is not the same thing as of interest,” the man countered. “They might often go hand in hand, but they are not synonymous.” He turned to go, before adding, “perhaps we’ll meet again, Miss Spats, or perhaps not. If you continue as you seem to be doing, though, you might find yourself turning into a bit of a cake-sniffer yourself.”

With that, he was gone, taking the cafeteria guy with him, and leaving Carmelita very confused.

Isadora

It was probably a long shot, going back to the library so soon after their last visit, but that didn’t stop Isadora and Duncan from returning there anyway. Luckily, Miss Caliban was still in there, dusting the shelves. Quickly, they slipped inside, shutting the door behind them.

“Quagmires!” Miss Caliban said, once she saw them. “What can I do for you two triplets?”

That made Isadora smile- nobody called them triplets any more, everyone kept insisting that without Quigley, they were only twins. It seemed that only the Baudelaires and Miss Caliban didn’t agree with that.

“We know it’s after hours, but did you find that book?” she asked. Shelley shifted into a small black dog, and looked up at the librarian with large, dark eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Miss Caliban said, with a shake of her head. “I know you’re desperate to get it.”

“It’s not just the book,” Duncan replied. “There's a whole mystery.”

“There certainly is,” Miss Caliban said. “I couldn't find the book, so I poked around. It's not in any system. It's like it doesn't exist.”

How was that possible? Isadora wanted to ask, but before she could, the door burst open to reveal Vice Principal Nero, violin case in one hand and a sign in the other.

“Who dares not be in the auditorium for my recital?” he demanded.

“The children had a question about the library,” Miss Caliban said, resting a light hand on Isadora’s shoulder, the other on Duncan’s- like she wanted to protect them somehow.

“The library is closed until further notice by order of the gym teacher,” Nero replied, holding up the sign.

“He can't close the library!” Miss Caliban exclaimed.

“Admittedly, I should have looked over his contract more closely. Or at all. Now he's also designated the freezer as off-limits, so there go all my Popsicles, and that new professor he brought has added a new class to the curriculum, so I suppose I’ve got to get that filled up. It's only temporary, though, until he gets his Special Orphans Running Exercises and what he wants, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Now get moving, twins.

“We're not twins,” Duncan protested. “Our brother Quigley…”

“Our brother Quigley died in a fire. I know, I know. Try to work up some pleasant small talk for a change!”

Shelley snarled at him, and Isadora would quite like to do the same, but it didn’t seem wise. They’d have to find some other way to get into the library- maybe they could brainstorm ideas with the Baudelaires tomorrow.

As they were walking along to the auditorium, they bumped into someone else- Carmelita Spats, of all people.

“Can I talk to you?” she asked, her gaze focused on Isadora.

“If you have something to say,” Duncan said, “then you can say it to both of us.”

“Stand down, Duncan Doughnuts, I’m not here to pick a fight.” She turned to Isadora. “Okay, maybe you were onto something earlier, about caring about poetic form and all that jazz. So, do you think…” she trailed off, tapping her foot almost absent-mindedly on the floor a couple of times. “Do you think you could help me get better?”

Isadora frowned at her, not sure how to respond. Since she and her brother had arrived at this austere academy, Carmelita had been making their lives difficult, and now she seemed to be making some strange attempt at offering them an olive branch- an attempt that didn’t involve any apologies or anything like that, it essentially just involved getting Isadora to do something for her.

“I don’t know,” she replied after a minute. “You’ve not exactly done very much that would make me want to help you out.” To her surprise, Carmelita nodded.

“Yeah, you’re right. I promise that from now on, I’ll back off you two, and the Baudelaires.” She placed a hand over her heart, like she was really making a pledge.

“Well, I’ll believe it when I see it,” Duncan said, and started to walk down the corridor away from them. After a few paces, though, he stopped. “Coming, Izzy?”

“In a moment,” she replied. She looked down at Carmelita. “What’s brought all this on, anyway?”

“It’s not important- I just don’t wanna become a cake-sniffer, that’s all,” she said, before turning on her heel and clacking away, which cleared up absolutely nothing.

Klaus

Klaus and his sisters kept running in circles- at least, Violet and Klaus kept running, Sunny was still walking, which would’ve probably been impressive had the circumstances been less dire.

“Keep running, orphans!” Olaf called. “Run for your lives!”

“Is this really all we’re doing?” Violet asked. “Just running round in circles?”

“There has to be something else,” Klaus replied. “There’s no way he’ll just make us run laps all night.”

As the night wore on, though, and they kept running and running, it became clearer and clearer that this really was it. They were not going to be doing anything else- they were just going to keep going round, and round, and round again.

Finally, the morning came, and they were allowed to return to the shack, where they collapsed into an exhausted heap, still knowing nothing about Olaf’s plan, or of how they could defeat his treachery. Perhaps worse than that, though, was something else they didn’t know- this was just the beginning of many, many dark days (and nights) to come.

Chapter Text

Chapter Four: In Which The Quagmires Hatch A Plan To Help Their Friends

Violet

It had been almost two weeks, and nothing had really changed. Every day, Violet and Klaus attended the same monotonous classes, and Sunny was sent to work in Nero’s office. Every dinnertime brought Carmelita over to their table to inform them they were supposed to report to the athletic field- though to her credit, she had gotten less insufferable since that first day- and every evening brought them to the athletic field, where they ran laps until dawn.

Violet sighed, and dragged herself from the Orphan Shack to Room One. She really didn’t want to go to class, she just wanted to sleep for a week, preferably on an actual bed, not on a hay bale that was far too small for her. Sighing, she waved good bye to Klaus and pushed open the heavy wooden door. Duncan had moved seats so that he was sitting beside her the day after she and her siblings had came to Prufrock, but Violet was too tired to do anything more than hold her hand up to her friend in greeting as she slumped into her chair.

She slept through the class, something that had never happened before, not even after that time she’d pulled an all-nighter when she was ten, procrastinating her French homework so that she could invent a telescope that looked like a small kaleidoscope. It wasn’t until the class had ended and Duncan had woken her up, therefore, that she realised she had slept through a pop quiz- another first.

Klaus

Over in Room Two, Klaus was not doing much better than Violet. Klaus had plenty of experience staying up late at night and feeling a bit silly for doing so in the morning- perhaps more than his sister did, though they could both be as bad as each other in this sense.

However, he had quickly discovered that there was a huge difference between staying up all night reading, where he could sit in bed with his books, and stop any time he wanted, and where only his eyes would end up feeling tired, and staying up all night running laps, unable to stop when he wanted, and ending up completely physically exhausted, not just mentally exhausted.

Until now, though, he had managed to stay somewhat conscious through all of Mrs Bass’s lessons, though it had gotten harder with each passing day. Today, finally, he couldn't stay awake any longer, falling asleep almost as soon as the class began. Later, he would be grateful to Isadora for not waking him until the class was over, but until then, he would just be relieved for the brief respite- even if it was one that he had never needed to take before.

Sunny

Of all three Baudelaires, Sunny was pretty sure that all this running laps business was hitting her the hardest. She still couldn't run, and all the walking in circles was making her feet hurt. And she was sleepy all the time now, during the day as well as at night time.

It wouldn't be so bad if she could sleep during the day, if she could just stay in the Orphan Shack even for one day, she would feel a lot better, she was sure of it- but instead, every day Sunny had to report to Nero’s office, typing up letters and stapling things together. She knew that she wasn’t doing very well, though- the letters had more and more spelling mistakes, because it was getting harder and harder to think about how the word might look on paper, and she was too tired to make the office equipment work.

So really, it was no wonder that she ended up falling asleep at her typewriter on a few of the many, many days which rested between the many, many running sessions she and her siblings had to do. It was fine, though, it was only a little nap- how bad could it be?

Isadora

“You three must be on your last legs,” Isadora observed at lunch that day. It had been two weeks, and still none of them were any closer to understanding what Count Olaf’s plan was, or why it seemed to involve so much running.

“I haven’t been this exhausted since I stayed up all night with my first Tesla coil,” Violet said, propping her head up on one fist.

“Look on the bright side,” Duncan replied. “At least you weren’t late to class.”

“I’ve never flunked a test- but I didn’t answer a single question on that pop quiz,” Klaus said.

“Of course you flunked,” Isadora replied. In hindsight, she probably should’ve woken Klaus up so he could at least attempt the quiz, but it had seemed a bit mean considering how tired he was. It hadn’t exactly been a normal pop quiz, either- there had been a lot of questions about bank vaults- so it would probably just have ended up confusing Klaus as much as it had confused her. “Olaf has been making you run laps every night.”

“We’re no closer to figuring out his scheme,” Klaus said. “It’s like that luminous circle he made us paint is a giant glowing zero, and we know zero about it.”

“Maybe he’s hoping that you’ll be so sick of running, you’ll just hand over your fortune?” Duncan speculated.

“He’s had stranger plans,” Klaus replied. “If only the library weren’t closed, we could-”

“Hey guys,” Carmelita said, coming over to their table. She frowned, looking down at Sunny, who had fallen asleep with her head in her salad. “Is everything okay with Baby Dracula?”

Ever since Isadora and Carmelita had become grudging partners in rhyme, the younger girl had stopped calling the five orphans “cake-sniffers.” That hadn’t stopped her from calling them a series of equally absurd nicknames, though. Though Isadora would never say as much out loud, she found it weirdly endearing. There were a lot of things she’d noticed over the last fortnight that, while they had driven her up the wall in the past, she found weirdly endearing about Carmelita Spats- plus a few things she probably wouldn't have known otherwise. Her middle name was Kitana, she had a really good head for remembering song lyrics, and her favourite family member was her cousin Brandon, who she hadn’t seen in many years.

Of course, neither Duncan nor the Baudelaires knew that they had gotten to be this close. Isadora was going to tell them, of course, just… maybe not today.

“She’s fine, she’s just exhausted,” she said. “Do you want to join us, or…” she trailed off, aware that Duncan was looking at her like she had two heads. Outside of their lessons, she and Carmelita didn’t really socialise, and for the most part they were okay with that- at least, Isadora has assumed that they were.

“I’m not joining your sad Breakfast Club,” Carmelita replied. “I still have a reputation to uphold, you know.”

“Bitch?” Sunny asked, lifting her head briefly from the salad plate. A reputation for what, being a stone-cold bitch?

“Do you even know what that word means, Baby Dracula? Cause I feel like you shouldn’t know what that word means.”

“Fuck!” Sunny replied, which probably meant something like, I know all sorts of words, including bad ones!

“You’re a weird kid, you know that?” she said. Sunny just grinned, before flopping back into her salad. “Anyway, I’m over here cause I have a message for you three.”

“The usual?” Klaus asked. “Report to the Athletic Field at sundown to run laps?”

“No,” Carmelita replied. “This one comes from Nero- he wants to see you guys in his office right away.” She paused, looking at each of the Baudelaires in turn. “And I’m gonna be honest, he didn’t look very happy, so be careful.”

With that, she was gone, leaving the five orphans to think about what she’d told them, and wonder just how much worse things were going to get.

Violet

It turned out that Carmelita had been right- Vice Principal Nero was not happy with them, and didn’t waste time letting them know exactly what they’d done to incur his wrath.

“Coach Genghis tells me that even after running laps for nine hours every night, you still remain out of shape and winded. Your teachers say you've flunked quizzes in personal anecdotes and measuring random objects. And finally, don't even get me started on Sunny's employee evaluation! I couldn't be more disgusted if I'd written it myself!”

“You did write it yourself,” Klaus pointed out.

“You did write it yourself!” shrieked Nero’s dæmon, from where she was perched on the Vice Principal’s shoulder.

“So many problems, Baudelaires- fortunately, your new gym teacher has a solution.” He gestured to Olaf, who was leaning against the desk. “You have the floor, sir.”

“Let me tell you a story,” Olaf began. Violet sighed, fully expecting a long, drawn-out tale. “Home-schooling!” he declared, which wasn’t quite what she’d been expecting him to say.

“What?” Klaus asked, seemingly just as confused as Violet was.

“Home-schooling,” Olaf repeated. “It means staying at home, sitting at your kitchen table, instead of clogging up a classroom.”

“Vice Principal Nero, Mr. Poe specifically placed us at Prufrock Prep,” Violet protested. She knew perfectly well that if Olaf was allowed to take them out of this school, he would have no intention of home-schooling them.

“Mr. Poe wants us to stay here at least a trimester!” Klaus added.

“Well, you’ll need to keep your grades up, unless you want to be tossed out on your ears,” Nero replied. “Tomorrow morning, your teachers will give you both more or less comprehensive exams in front of the whole school. Sunny, on the other hand, will get a professional reappraisal featuring a special sequence of demeaning menial tasks.”

“And if you fail, it's off to Coach Genghis' Ultra-Dynamic Life-Ending Workshop,” Olaf added.

Violet looked from one adult to the other, Olaf’s vile plan finally falling into place in her mind. He had deliberately worn the Baudelaires out, so that they would fail their classes, and lead Nero to decide they should be expelled. Why hadn’t they worked it out sooner?

“We will pass those exams,” Klaus said, Lizzie giving her wings a determined flap.

“Of course we will,” Violet added. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we're going to study in our shack.”

“You don't have much time,” Olaf observed, looking at the clock. “You're due at the athletic field for Special Orphan Running Exercises in a matter of hours.”

“We still have to run laps?” Violet exclaimed.

“Of course,” Olaf replied, with a shrug.

“And it doesn't mean you'll be excused from the violin recital!” Nero chipped in. “Looks like more candy for me!”

“We can't study for comprehensive exams and run laps all night!” Klaus protested. “We'd have to be two places at once!”

“Consider this a learning experience, orphans,” Nero said. “It's important you figure out the balance between academics and extracurricular activities.”

“Listen to us! This man is…” Violet began, just as Olaf happened to step in front of the advanced computer system.

“This is not Count Olaf!” the machine informed the room, in its robotic voice.

“Oh, goodness, how careless of me,” Olaf said, smirking at the children. “Now, what is it you were saying?”

Violet didn’t say anything, instead she turned around, leading her siblings from the office. Clearly, they didn’t have time to waste talking, they had to get to work, to think of a plan that would stop Olaf’s plans and allow them to stay at Prufrock for at least a little bit longer.

Klaus

It was really, really not looking good. Klaus, his sisters and the Quagmires were crammed into the Orphan Shack once again, and they had only a few hours to think of a way to be both at the athletic field to run laps, and to study for their exams tomorrow.

“Violet,” Klaus said, looking down at his older sister. She was sitting on one of the hay bales, her hair tied up and her eyes closed. “Violet, Count Olaf is waiting for us at sundown. We don’t have much time.”

“Violet, we don’t have much-” Lizzie added. Just then, Violet’s eyes snapped open, and she smiled.

“I know what we need to do,” she said.

“We’re listening,” Klaus replied.

The plan was relatively simple- the Quagmires would disguise themselves as the two older Baudelaires, and they would build something to look like Sunny, to go in her place, so that she could get a decent night’s sleep, and Violet and Klaus would study for the exam, using Duncan and Isadora’s notes from the last two weeks of classes.

Of course, there was still a lot that could go wrong, but as the Baudelaires and the Quagmires filed into the dark, empty kitchen, none of them mentioned any of the problems they could encounter. Nobody seemed to want to admit that this plan was not fool proof- not when it was the only one they really had.

“Where should we start?” Duncan asked.

“Find some glasses,” Klaus replied. “Or at least something that could be used to make a fake pair.”

He would need the ones he was wearing, and he didn’t have a spare pair that he could loan Duncan. Together, they went to go and look for something they could use. Klaus supposed that he didn’t necessarily need to help here, but between their classes and the running exercises, he and Duncan only got to see each other at meals. Maybe that was enough for Duncan- maybe he didn’t want to hang out with Klaus without their sisters around. How would he know, when they so rarely got to talk on their own?

“How about these?” Duncan asked, holding up a couple of barbecue tongs. Klaus smiled, and nodded.

“Yeah, those will be perfect.” Klaus knew they should probably go to the big table, where the girls had gathered their supplies, and were working on building a fake Sunny, but at the same time, he didn’t want to move just yet.

“Klaus,” Duncan said, taking hold of Klaus’s sleeve with his free hand. “I don’t wanna sound like I’m trying to jinx this, but… I’m glad that we met. This austere academy has seemed a lot less austere since you showed up.” He paused, before quickly adding, “and Violet and Sunny, obviously.”

“Yeah, of course,” Klaus replied. “I’m glad, too,” he added. Then he moved his hand so that it was holding Duncan’s, and they went over to join their sisters.

Violet

At the table, Violet was constructing a fake Sunny out of a large bag of flour, a small balloon, a spare uniform and a small trolley. After dressing the bag of flour in the spare uniform, she tied the balloon to the top, drawing a little smiley face on it to really get the point across. Then she attached it to the trolley, tying a piece of string around the whole thing so that one of the Quagmires could pull it along behind them.

“This knot’s called the Devil’s Tongue knot,” she explained as she worked. “It was invented by female Finnish pirates in the 15^th century.”

“There’s one thing we haven’t considered,” Isadora said, as she fixed her hair, trying to make it look like she had bangs. Violet handed her a black ribbon, to help her hold her hair in place. “Fake Sunny doesn’t have a dæmon.”

“You’re right,” Violet replied. Quickly, she pulled off one of her shoes and socks, then put the shoe back on. “It’s not the right colour, but it’ll do,” she said, going to find something to stuff it with. “Shelley will need to be in a hedgehog form as well,” she added, deciding to fill the sock with mashed potatoes, since she couldn't find anything better in the kitchen.

Shelley promptly shifted from his raven form to that of a hedgehog, identical to Prospero. Violet finished stuffing the fake Oliver, and attached it carefully to the fake Sunny’s shoulders. Duncan didn’t need to do anything about Dorothy, since Lizzie wasn’t settled yet. Still, Dorothy shifted forms anyway, so that she resembled a Little Owl- exactly the same as Lizzie’s current form.

“That’s kinda impressive,” Violet observed, stepping back to admire her handiwork.

“What can I say,” Duncan said, smiling at Klaus. “I’ve been paying attention.”

For a moment, none of them said anything. Then Klaus unbuckled the brown leather arm guard that their Aunt Josephine had given him, and gave it to Duncan.

“You should probably take this,” he said. “Just in case.”

“You guys don’t have to do any of this, you know,” Violet said, as Duncan adjusted the arm guard. “We can find another way to pass the test.”

“We may not have to do this,” he said, “but we’re still going to. My sister and I aren’t about to just sit back and do nothing to help you.”

“I just…” Violet sighed. “I have this feeling, like we’re never gonna see you again. And you could just go back to your broom closet, and leave us to figure something out that wouldn't be putting you in danger.”

“If you fail your tests tomorrow and get kicked out, then we really will never see you again,” Isadora pointed out. “This is our best option- and besides, I’m sure it’s what our parents would do, if they were in the same position.”

“You’re right,” Violet replied.

She still didn’t really feel at ease with this whole situation, but if they wanted to stop Olaf, then this was the only solution they had right now. Even if, the more she looked at Isadora and Duncan, the less they looked like her or Klaus, even if the fake Sunny didn’t look or act much like the real thing. It was too late to think of anything better- this was all they had.

“We’ll have to be careful sneaking out,” Klaus said, once they were ready to go. “You guys go first, and we’ll wait until it’s clear.” Isadora nodded, and pulled open the door to the kitchens. Before she left, though, she turned to look at the Baudelaires.

“No mourners,” she said, and paused. When none of them said anything, she added, “no funerals.”

“Way to kill the mood, Izzy,” Duncan said, shaking his head. Isadora just smiled, and left the room.

Duncan took a step forward, to follow her out, then he turned around to face Klaus. Quickly, he leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, then turned and walked out of the room.

“Well, it certainly took you two long enough,” Violet said, smiling at her brother.

“Shut up,” Klaus muttered, unable to hide his blush.

Klaus

It was a long, dull night for Klaus and Violet. While Sunny slept, they went back and forth with Duncan and Isadora’s notebooks, reading the information and testing each other on what they had learned. Klaus found the memorising part fairly easy- though he would’ve found it a lot easier had he been better rested- so he ended up spending much of the night testing Violet’s memory more so than his own.

“What did Mr. Remora have for dessert last Tuesday?” he asked.

“A pudding,” Violet replied.

“What kind of pudding?”

“I’m not sure- butterscotch, maybe?”

“No, it was rice.”

“Right, right, rice pudding- I’ll have to remember that.”

All night, they kept going, until they had both memorised each measurement and anecdote that the little black and green notebooks contained. They just had to hope that would be enough, and that this time tomorrow, they would be safe, and allowed to stay at Prufrock Prep with their friends.

Duncan

So far, their disguises seemed to be holding up. Perhaps it was because of the dark, or perhaps Olaf really was just that unobservant, but he hadn’t noticed that the three Baudelaires were really two Quagmires and a bag of flour on wheels when they arrived at the athletic field. He’d just told them to start running, and gone to sit over on the stands, where he was soon joined by one of his henchpeople- not the tall one in the white coat, the one with hooks instead of hands.

“I know we’re doing this for serious reasons,” Duncan said, as they ran. “But it’s still exciting.”

“It may not be particularly wise,” Isadora replied, “but it’s a thrill to be in disguise.”

It was all going fairly well, until the string attached to the Sunny dummy broke mid-lap. At first, neither Duncan nor Isadora realised what hat happened, until they heard a voice from the stands.

“Run, baby, run!” yelled Olaf’s henchman. Duncan looked down, and saw the frayed piece of string in his sister’s hand.

“What do we do?” he asked.

“We keep running,” Isadora replied, and together they ran straight back into the school.

“Do you think we can make it to the broom closet?” Duncan asked, as they ran through the dark corridors.

“I’ve got a better idea,” Isadora said, stopping in front of the oak doors of the library.

Duncan had expected to find the doors locked, but they were open. He wondered if Miss Caliban had left them open, just in case someone would need to use the library. Quietly, they slipped inside, leaning their backs against the door. Duncan took off his fake glasses, though he left the arm guard on.

“Look over there,” Isadora said.

There was a trolley full of books a few feet away, and the spine of a large grey book was visible on the bottom shelf. Quickly, they crawled over to it, and pulled it out. It wasn’t The Incomplete History of Mycology, The Incomplete History of Cartography, The Incomplete History of Anthropology or even The Incomplete History of History. It was The Incomplete History of Secret Organisations.

“It was here the whole time,” Duncan whispered. “It was here all this time and we didn’t know.”

“Let’s not focus on that right now,” Isadora replied, standing up and moving deeper into the library. “Let’s do some studying of our own.”

Using the spyglass as a torch, they opened the book to a random page. There was a picture of a spyglass on it, just like the one they were holding. The rest of the page listed different combinations that could be made with the dials on the spyglass, as well as what some of them did.

“Look,” Duncan observed. “It can create heat as well as light. You don’t think…” he trailed off.

“If you wanted to start a fire,” Isadora pointed out, “you could just use the light feature, because of the scientific principle of the divergence and refraction of light”

“That’s true,” Duncan said, and turned the page. The next page was titled VFD, followed by a list of different phrases with those initials. “Verbal Fridge Dialogue, Volunteer Feline Detectives, Volunteer Fire Department… there’s so many phrases here.”

“What do you think they mean? What connects them all, besides the initials?” Isadora speculated. She turned the page again, revealing a picture of a fancy, blue and white sugar bowl.

“What’s so important about a sugar bowl?” he asked. Before Isadora could answer, though, or they could read more of what was on the page, the door burst open, to reveal Count Olaf’s hook-handed henchman.

Chapter Text

Chapter Five: In Which The Baudelaires Take Their Comprehensive Exams

Carmelita

It was the morning of the comprehensive exams, and Carmelita was worried. She hadn’t seen Isadora or her brother since yesterday, and when she had checked their broom cupboard, they weren’t in there. She didn’t know where they were, though she assumed they were with the Baudelaires, or maybe they were already in the auditorium with everyone else.

The trouble with making assumptions, though, is that they can be rather dangerous things to make, particularly in the morning, and particularly if they turn out to be incorrect. Making incorrect assumptions is an easy way to end up in trouble, disappointed, or heartbroken, as Carmelita would discover by the day’s end. That did not stop her from making assumptions about the whereabouts of Isadora Quagmire, though, as she made her way to the Orphan Shack to fetch the Baudelaires for their exams, though.

As she got closer, though, she noticed something that distracted her from her thoughts for a moment. There was yet another strange adult on the grounds of Prufrock Prep, this one a man with a black bowler hat and a dark grey suit, whose dæmon was a small black mole. He was speaking to Coach Genghis about something, and as she got a little closer, she could hear a little more of what they were saying.

“I understand they've missed several violin recitals, and that Vice Principal Nero is thereby entitled to several bags of candy,” the man in the hat was explaining. Carmelita smiled, an idea forming in her head.

“So am I,” she said, skipping over to the two adults. Might as well, she thought. You don’t often get free candy, do you?

“And who are you, little girl, besides adorable?” the man in the hat asked, smiling down at her.

“My name is Carmelita Spats,” she replied. “I deserve candy for telling you where the Baudelaires are.”

“I suppose that more or less follows,” the man said, handing her a bag. “Here you go.”

“They're in that shack,” she explained, pointing to the flimsy structure beside them. She didn’t like to look at the shack too closely, didn’t like to confront just how unfairly the school treated orphans, but now that she was looking at it in the light of day, the flimsier and smaller it looked. How could anyone sleep in there? Why should they have to?

“Shack?” the man asked, confused.

“Nobody said anything about a shack,” Genghis said, then led the man away, in the direction of the auditorium.

Once they were gone, Carmelita pushed open the door to the shack. Violet, Klaus and Sunny were all there, passed out on their hay bales, but the shack was otherwise empty.

“Hey, wake up!” she shouted, tapping her feet a few times for emphasis.

“Is it time for the test already?” Klaus said, sitting up groggily. He still had his glasses on, she noted.

“Yes,” she said, simply. “Have you seen Isadora?” she added, cutting straight to the point.

“Not since yesterday evening, no,” he replied. “Why do you ask?”

“She wasn’t in the broom cupboard- neither was Duncan.” It was possible that wasn’t what he had meant, but it was the only answer he was getting for now. No way was she going to tell them why she cared what happened to Isadora.

“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” Klaus said, making the same assumption that Carmelita had. “They’re probably already in the auditorium.”

“Yeah, probably. Speaking of which, we should get going.” She tossed Klaus the bag of candy. “Everyone’s waiting.”

V iolet

The whole school had filed into the auditorium to watch the Baudelaires take their exams. Everybody had to go past the advanced computer system in order to get in, which just seemed redundant at this point. Not just because Olaf had already infiltrated the school, but because checking the faces of a bunch of teenagers when you were trying to find a grown man was a waste of everyone’s time.

“Baudelaires!” a familiar voice called, as Violet and her siblings made their way over to the stage.

“Speaking of wasting everyone’s time,” Prospero whispered, only loud enough for Violet to hear.

“Mr. Poe, what are you doing here?” Violet asked, trying to sound polite.

“Well, I'm giving you a very disappointed look. You've been spending too much time with extracurricular activities. I don't think homeschooling is the answer, but I brought along the necessary paperwork, as suggested by Vice Principal Nero and by a gym teacher who I met wandering around outside.”

Did Mr. Poe ever actually listen to himself speak, Violet wondered, or was it just like white noise in his head?

“That gym teacher is Olaf in disguise,” Klaus said. “He tracked us down and is in the middle of a scheme to steal our fortune.”

“Olaf?” Poe asked. “But... what about the computer system Nero told me about?”

“It hasn't worked,” Violet explained. At that moment, Nero walked into the auditorium, setting off the machine.

“This is not Count Olaf,” the robotic voice announced.

“Well, it certainly appears to be working,” Poe observed. Violet rolled her eyes. “You must be Vice Principal Nero,” he continued, turning his attention to Nero.

“The computer system didn't recognize Olaf, because he's in disguise,” Klaus tried. Mr. Poe shook his head.

“Klaus, what sane man would disguise himself four times in a row?”

“Bold,” Sunny muttered, by which she meant, Awful bold of you to assume Olaf is sane.

“Believe me, Poe, I've seen this sort of thing before,” Nero said. “Children will say anything to explain getting bad grades and failing at their work as administrative assistants.”

“Administrative assistants?” Mr. Poe asked. Seeing an opportunity to let him know that their situation at Prufrock was pretty dire, Violet nodded.

“Yes, Sunny's been working as a secretary since she got here.”

“Sunny should be in preschool!” Mr. Poe protested. “That doesn't seem suitable.”

“Well, if they flunk these exams, the Baudelaires will be expelled, so it hardly matters now,” Nero replied, with a shrug.

“This is not Count Olaf!” the advanced computer system informed them, as Count Olaf walked into the auditorium.

“There you are, Coach Genghis!” Nero said, beckoning Olaf to join them.

While the adults exchanged pleasantries, Violet cast her gaze around the auditorium. Something was wrong- she couldn't see Duncan or Isadora anywhere. When Carmelita had asked where they were, Violet had made the assumption that they would be in the auditorium- an assumption, she was now realising, that she probably shouldn’t have made.

“This so-called Coach Genghis is Olaf in disguise,” Klaus protested. Violet frowned, debating whether or not she should let him know that their friends seemed to be missing now, or wait until after the tests.

“Klaus, you can’t argue with technology,” Mr. Poe replied.

“Precisely,” Nero said. “Now, let’s get started with these tests, shall we?”

Violet, Klaus, Sunny, Nero and Olaf assembled on the stage, and Carmelita led the audience in the same cheer she had led them in during the pep rally two weeks ago. Violet wondered if Carmelita had noticed the same thing that she had- that the Quagmires were nowhere to be seen in the audience. She was about to try and let her know, when Olaf clapped his hands, addressing the crowd.

“I love the energy, I love it!” He turned to look at Nero. “Do you love it, Caligula?”

“It’s Nero,” Nero corrected.

“This school has a new kind of spirit energy- a sense of unity and joy which you usually cannot find unless you are at a birthday party or a public hanging. I think the flunking of the Baudelaire children of this school is bringing out the best of all of us. And so, without further ado…”

“A violin cadenza in the style of the Human League!” Nero declared.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. No, no, let's not get ahead of ourselves,” Olaf cut him off, which was the only good thing he had done in pretty much the entire time that Violet and her siblings had known him. “Hey, Gomorrah! Sass!” he called.

“It’s Mrs Bass, and my name is Remora,” Mr. Remora said, as he and Mrs. Bass walked out onto the stage. Violet noted that both Remora and his dæmon were each carrying a banana.

“Well, we’ll find out who's full of remora soon enough. Test them!” The crowd soon took up the chant, until Mr. Remora asked the first question, and they quietened down.

“Violet, in the story about my pet donkey, how many miles did the donkey run?”

“Six,” Violet replied, after taking a moment to think about it.

“Six,” Nero repeated, mockingly.

“Yes, that’s correct,” Remora said.

“Klaus, how long was the book with the yellow cover?” Mrs. Bass asked.

“Nineteen centimetres,” Klaus replied.

“Nineteen centimetres!” squawked Nero’s dæmon.

“That is correct,” Mrs. Bass said, and then it was Sunny’s turn.

“Sunny Baudelaire,” Nero said, approaching the youngest Baudelaire with a stack of file cards. “I need you to organize these file cards of students who owe me candy. But not by name! No! But by the colour of candy I want!”

Sunny took the cards, and started sorting them into six differently coloured piles. Once she had finished, she smiled up at the Vice Principal, as if to say, That was nothing- have you got anything that’s actually a challenge?

“Oh, that’s very impressive, I must admit,” Nero said.

Klaus

The tests continued on for maybe another half hour, with Violet and Klaus continuing to get every answer correct and Sunny continuing to perform each menial task she was presented with. Finally, Mr. Remora and Mrs. Bass closed their books with a little snap.

“We’ve come to the end of the comprehensive exams, and the professional reappraisal for the Baudelaires,” Mr. Remora said. “Violet is a fine student, and passes language arts with high marks.”

“I’ve never encountered anyone more fluent in the metric system than Klaus. He gets an A-plus, two centimetres by one centimetre,” Mrs. Bass added.

“I hate to admit it, but Sunny is a fantastic administrative assistant,” Nero said. “Look,” he added, pulling a sheet of paper from the typewriter Sunny had been using. “She edited my résumé, highlighting my musicianship, without drawing attention to the fact I never graduated middle school.”

“Noteasy,” Sunny replied, by which she meant, It wasn’t easy.

“What my sister means is, did we all pass?” Violet asked.

“As much as it pains me to admit, you pass with flying colours,” Nero replied. “Mr. Poe, I will allow them to stay the remaining trimester, and you may leave after giving me the candy.”

“Thank you, Vice Principal Nero,” Mr. Poe said. “Baudelaires, the disappointment that I expressed earlier has been lifted by the fact you clearly memorized facts and anecdotes to the best of your abilities. Sunny, I may consult with you later about the bank's latest quarterly report, which could use a more dynamic layout.”

“Nosec,” Sunny replied, by which she meant, Don’t you have an actual secretary you can ask for help? I’m only a baby!

“Hold on, let’s not get too ahead of ourselves!” Olaf declared. Klaus rolled his eyes, irritated but not surprised at this point. “This is a comprehensive exam, isn't it?” he asked, coming forward to stand beside Nero. “I'm the gym teacher, and I haven't given my test. According to the Prufrock Preparatory Handbook, gym teacher evaluations are worth a full 51% of their grade.”

“That is actually correct,” Nero said. “But how did you know?”

“A long time ago, a handsome young man was expelled from this very school, on this very stage, for that very reason. So, one last challenge, Baudelaires. And this one will determine your entire future.”

“We’d be happy to run laps,” Violet replied.

“We’re in extremely good shape,” Klaus added.

“I have a far better idea,” Olaf countered. “Arm wrestling, no holds barred, against an opponent who is as heavy and as slow as a bag of flour- Sunny Baudelaire!”

“That’s not fair!” Klaus protested, as the two white-faced women placed a small table and two chairs in the middle of the stage. “You’re a fully-grown adult, and Sunny’s only a baby!”

“He does have a point, that hardly seems sporting,” Nero said.

“Fine,” Olaf muttered. “Bookworm, you’re up,” he said, pointing to Klaus.

“You can take the both of us,” Violet said, taking a step forward. “Unless you don’t think you’re string enough for that?”

“A real gym teacher would be able to do it with no problems,” Klaus pointed out.

“That’s true,” Nero added. “Coach Genghis, surely you’re stronger than two simpering schoolchildren!”

“Of course I am!” Olaf said, taking a seat.

Violet and Klaus sat across from him, and rested their elbows on the table, clasping their hands together. Olaf gripped their hands, and started attempting to pull them down.

“This reminds me of a story,” he began, as Violet and Klaus started attempting to pull his hand down to the other side of the table. “Some time ago, three orphans came to me needing my help. Coach, they said to me, we're complete failures. We have an enormous fortune, and we're keeping it all to ourselves out of our own selfishness. How do we learn to share? How do we learn to give up in the face of all-powerful, very good-looking physical strength? And do you know what I told them?”

“You can never give up!” Violet said, pulling their hands a little closer to the table.

“You can never give up, even if you find yourself in terrible circumstances!” Klaus added, pulling their hands closer still. “You must keep struggling!”

“You must struggle until you find a safe place to live!”

“You must struggle until you find noble and reliable friends!”

“You must struggle…”

“And struggle…”

“Until the world can see who you really are!” Just as Violet said that, Sunny popped up beside the table, and pulled everyone’s hands down the rest of the way. As she did so, the impact was enough to send Olaf’s foot in the air- and his shoe flying right off.

Sunny

All things considered, Sunny had thought she and her siblings had done very well on their tests, even before Nero had said they passed. Sorting those coloured file cards was a lot easier than trying to operate a typewriter, since she knew her colours a lot better than she knew her letters. Though even the bits that had involved using the typewriter hadn’t been too bad. She more or less knew how it worked now, and now that she was much less sleepy than she had been the last couple of weeks, she could actually think about what she was doing. Sure, most of the words she’d had to write were probably spelled wrong, but at least she’d been able to guess at how they might be spelled. And they couldn't all be wrong- you had to spell résumé with a z, didn’t you?

Anyway, it had all been going just great, until Olaf had stuck his big foot in the middle of everything, insisting that they had to do another stupid test, this time involving arm wrestling. Sunny wasn’t entirely sure what that was, and was therefore relieved when Violet and Klaus stepped in to do it in her place. Still, when she had spied the opportunity to help out, she had grabbed it with both hands.

“That kid came out of nowhere!” Olaf exclaimed. Sunny grinned up at him, ready to say something like, “Yes, and I will do it again- only next time I’ll bite!” when Nero spoke up.

“Holy Beethoven, I see what you mean, Baudelaires!”

“Finally!” Klaus cried.

“What you mean… is that I should keep on struggling, and then perhaps I'll be invited to join a legitimate orchestra.”

“No, that's not what we mean at all,” Violet replied, far more nicely than Sunny might have under the same circumstances.

“Your shoe, sir,” Nero said, ignoring her and handing Olaf the shoe that Sunny had knocked off earlier.

“Look at the tattoo on his ankle!” Violet pointed out, before Olaf had the chance to cover it up with his shoe again.

“Egad!” Mr. Poe exclaimed. “I'd know that ankle anywhere!”

“You flatter me, kind sir,” Olaf replied, shoving his foot back into the white shoe.

“Don't call me kind sir, kind sir. You're Count Olaf, and that tattoo proves it,” Mr. Poe said. “It's too late to cover it up with a probably overpriced running shoe!”

“I am not covering up anything,” Olaf countered, tying up his shoelaces. “I need to wear these.”

“Don't be ridiculous! Why would a notorious criminal need running shoes?”

Olaf stood up, smirked at the banker and the Baudelaires, then replied: “For running,” and ran from the stage and out of the auditorium.

“Mr. Poe, you have to go after him!” Violet shouted. When the banker didn’t move, though, she and Klaus turned to run from the auditorium. “Stay there, Sunny, we’ll be back!”

Yeah, sure, Sunny thought, like that’s going to happen. She climbed down from the stage, and was about to start hurrying after her siblings, when someone else jumped down beside her, landing with a familiar clacking sound.

“You’re going after them, aren’t you, Baby Dracula?” Carmelita asked. Sunny nodded, unsure where she was going with this. “Come on,” she said, holding her arms out. “We’ll catch up to them faster if I carry you.”

Sunny nodded, and allowed Carmelita to pick her up. As they ran in the same direction Olaf, Violet and Klaus had gone, though, they both realised this maybe wasn’t the best way to travel. For one thing, it was obvious that Carmelita had never actually held a baby- or a toddler- and had only the vaguest idea of what she was doing.

“No offence, Baby Dracula, but you’re pretty heavy,” Carmelita grumbled. “We’re almost there, though, just a little further.”

However fast they ran, though, they were still too late to be of any help to either Sunny’s siblings or the Quagmires.

Violet

Violet and Klaus followed Olaf out of the building, their fortnight of running laps finally coming in handy. As they passed the Orphan Shack, Violet managed to grab hold of Olaf’s turban, pulling it off his head. She’d hoped that might be enough to stop him- maybe she could use it to trip him up, or quickly fashion it into some kind of lasso or something like that.

However, while it did briefly disorient him, he recovered almost irritatingly quickly, and continued running away. He passed by the Orphan Shack, and burst through the gates of the school. Violet and Klaus followed him out, just as he climbed into his long, black car, and started to drive away.

Just when it seemed like things could not get any worse, though, Violet saw that Olaf and his troupe were not the only people in the car- Duncan and Isadora were in the back seat, pounding against the back window.

“Klaus!” Duncan yelled. “We’ve found the answers!”

“Duncan!” Klaus yelled, then looked quickly at Violet. “What can we do?”

“Keep running,” she replied. They ran as fast as they could after the car, even though deep down Violet knew that it would do no good.

“VFD!” Isadora shouted. “You have to remember, VFD!”

“Isadora!” Violet cried.

“Duncan!” Klaus yelled.

“VFD, VFD!” both Quagmires yelled. “You have to help us so we can find the rest of the answers!”

It was no good- the car was going too fast. It passed the large front gates of the school and disappeared out of sight, taking the Quagmires with it.

“Duncan,” Klaus breathed.

Violet closed her eyes, not knowing what to say or do. The Quagmires had been her friends, and she loved them dearly in that sense, but at the same time, she knew that it was different for Klaus. He had really liked Duncan, and he should have had more time to understand those feelings, to come to terms with them. Instead, Olaf had shattered their blossoming friend group- and Klaus and Duncan’s blossoming romance- the way that he had shattered every other positive thing that had come into the Baudelaires’ lives since the death of their parents.

A clattering noise behind her brought her back to the moment. Turning around, she saw Carmelita, carrying Sunny, running towards them. She stopped once she reached them, set Sunny down, and looked around.

“Where…” she began.

“They’re gone,” Violet said, flatly. “Count Olaf, all of his troupe, and the Quagmires.”

Carmelita was quiet for a moment, cradling her dæmon in her arms. “This is all my fault,” she said eventually, so softly Violet wasn’t sure she heard her correctly at first.

“What did you say?” she asked.

“This is all my fault,” Carmelita repeated. “Count Olaf would never have gotten in here if I hadn’t let him in.”

“You did what?” Klaus asked, rounding on her. Lizzie shifted into her cat form, her back arched in anger.

“Klaus, leave it,” Violet said, standing between them, one hand towards her brother, the other towards Carmelita. “Olaf would've found some other way to get into the school, you know that. I know you’re upset, but let’s not forget who our real enemies are, okay?”

Klaus took a step back, both he and Lizzie visibly deflating. Violet looked down the driveway, even though the car was long gone. Their real enemies were out there, and none of them would be safe until they had been defeated, and the Quagmires had been rescued. Until then, they could not give up.

Chapter Text

Chapter Six: In Which The Baudelaires Arrive At 667 Dark Avenue

Violet

In the end, it hadn’t mattered that the Baudelaires had passed their tests and reappraisals with flying colours. Once it got out that Count Olaf had kidnapped the Quagmires, Nero had decided that he didn’t want Violet and her siblings to stay at Prufrock Prep. Violet suspected that he was just glad for any excuse to be rid of them- especially if their absence meant that his school would now be completely orphan free.

So now, they were back in the City, being dropped off at yet another new guardian. Mr and Mrs. Squalor lived on Dark Avenue, a few blocks away from where Violet and her siblings had lived with their parents before the fire. Violet had thought that being so close to her old home would bring back painful memories, but this neighbourhood was so different from the one she and her family had lived in, she almost forgot that her home was close by.

“I know you children must be nervous,” Mr. Poe said, from where he sat in the front seat of his car. “I was a little nervous trying to find you a new guardian, given your track record.”

Violet could only just see the outline of Mr. Poe’s bowler hat from where she sat. Normally, she would be able to see it much more clearly, but the street that they were on was so dark, she could scarcely see anything. Of course, when she’d been told that her new guardians lived on a street called Dark Avenue, she hadn’t thought that meant it was literally a dark avenue, but this street was lined by large trees, which effectively blocked out all the light.

“Never fear, though- this is a very fashionable block, much more fashionable than where you lived with your parents, even though it’s only a few blocks away.”

“We’re not concerned with how fashionable it is,” Violet snapped. There were far more important things on Violet's mind than whether her new home was fashionable.

“We're more than nervous, Mr. Poe,” Klaus added. “We're anxious. My b… I mean, our friends have been kidnapped by Count Olaf.”

Klaus had been pretty quiet since they had left Prufrock. Violet wished she knew how to help him, that she knew what to say to make him feel better. What were you supposed to say when the person your brother had a crush on was kidnapped by a dangerous criminal? Time and time again, Violet found herself running into situations where her siblings needed help, and she had no idea what to do. She wished her parents were still here, so she could ask them for help- though, then again, if they were still alive, none of these unfortunate events would've happened, and she wouldn't need help dealing with them.

“Ah, yes, the Quagmire twins,” Poe said.

“They’re triplets,” Violet corrected. “Their brother Quigley died in a fire, but they’re still triplets.”

“Well, the worst has already happened to him- let’s focus on David and Imogen for now, and we can discuss their birth order later.”

“You mean Duncan and Isadora?” Klaus corrected.

“That’s what I said,” Poe replied. Just then, they heard a siren go past. “Do you know what that is?” he asked.

“A police car?” Violet replied.

“Exactly- part of a citywide manhunt to apprehend Olaf and rescue your friends. We at Mulctuary Money Management are co-sponsoring every effort to bring this ghastly villain to justice. Look at the wanted posters we have pasted up all over town.”

Violet peered out of the window into the dark street, but she couldn't make out any posters.

“You can’t see them,” she pointed out. “The trees are blocking the light.”

“Trust me. It's a good likeness of a very bad person,” Poe replied, then opened his car door and got out. “Once I have dropped you at this apartment where some more old friends of your parents have promised to be your guardians, I'm taking a helicopter ride to search for the Quagmires using the binoculars my wife gave me as an anniversary present. Now, let's see…” he looked around the dark street. “Has anyone seen the numbers 667? It should be somewhere on this block.”

“Another mysterious set of our parents’ friends,” Violet said, as she and her siblings climbed out of the car. “More people we know nothing about.”

Klaus

When they finally made it into the building, they were greeted by a doorman wielding a torch, whose dæmon was a Dalmatian.

“Names?” he asked, flashing the torch in their faces.

“I’m Violet Baudelaire, and these are my siblings, Klaus and Sunny,” Violet replied.

“You three are expected,” the doorman said. Then he flashed the torch in Mr. Poe’s direction. “But who’s that with you? This is a restricted area.”

“Don’t mind me, I’m just dropping off the Baudelaires, and then I’m off to catch my helicopter.”

“Sorry, no unauthorised parties are allowed- not when there’s a citywide manhunt going on.”

“Well, in that case, goodbye, Baudelaires,” Mr. Poe said. “Remember, if you need to contact me, I’ll be in a helicopter and will not be reachable at any moment at any time.” With that, he was gone.

“Friend of yours?” the doorman asked.

“Oh, he works at a bank,” Klaus replied. The doorman nodded.

“I know the type- in fact, you’ll be staying with the city’s sixth most important financial adviser and their spouse. Mr. and Mrs. Squalor live in the penthouse, which is the top floor of 667 Dark Avenue, the most fashionable and secure building in town. Count Olaf won't be able to get in or out of this building. Sorry about the lighting,” he added. “Dark is in.”

“In what?” Violet asked.

“Just in,” he replied. “You can take these stairs to the penthouse.”

“Is the elevator out of order?” Violet asked. “I'm good with mechanical devices. I'd be happy to look at it.”

“That’s a very kind and unusual offer, but it's not out of order, it’s just out. I'll phone the penthouse and tell them to expect you within the hour.”

The three Baudelaires started to make their way up the stairs. Violet and Klaus agreed to take turns carrying Sunny, while Lizzie and Oliver flew beside them in their owl and sparrow forms respectively.

“People who live in penthouses are usually rich and powerful,” Violet observed, as they climbed. Klaus sensed what she was trying to do- she was trying to take his mind off worrying about Duncan, even just for a little while.

“Well, I hope they can help us find the Quagmires, then,” he replied. “We don’t have a clue where Olaf could've taken them.”

“Dark,” Sunny added, by which she meant, We’re in the dark.

They certainly were- both in the literal sense, because their surroundings were so devoid of actual light, and in the figurative sense, because there were so many things they didn’t know. They didn’t know where Duncan or Isadora were, they didn’t know what VFD was, or why their friends had shouted it when they were being taken away, or how useful their new guardians would be when they eventually got up to the penthouse and met them.

Violet

Finally, finally they reached the top floor. Violet had thought it might not be too bad, since they had spent two weeks running laps, and they were in pretty good shape. But after perhaps the tenth floor, Violet’s legs started to hurt, and after that she stopped counting how many floors there were, staying focused on getting to the penthouse.

“That’s odd,” Klaus noted, looking around the large landing at the top of the stairs. “There’s two sets of elevator doors, while on every other floor there’s just one.”

Before Violet could respond, the large door to the penthouse apartment opened. A dark-haired man with a black pinstriped suit and a small moustache appeared, smiling warmly at the children. His dæmon, a beagle, wagged her tail in greeting as well.

“You must be the Baudelaires, welcome!” he said, letting them into the large, lavishly decorated apartment. “My name is Jerome Squalor, and this is Charlotte- we are so happy that you’ve come to stay with us!”

“How do you do, Mr. Squalor?” Violet asked, politely.

“You must be out of breath from that climb- luckily, I can think of two things to do about that. One, you can stop calling me Mr. Squalor and start calling me Jerome, and number two, I am gonna make you a nice, cold martini. Come this way!”

He led them over to a small table in the middle of the room, where several martini glasses and a jug of water stood.

“A martini?” Klaus asked, confused. “Isn’t that an alcoholic drink?”

“Usually it is,” Jerome agreed. “But alcoholic martinis are out, and aqueous martinis are in.”

“Aqueous martinis?” Klaus asked, still not any less confused.

“It’s just cold water in a fancy glass with an olive in it,” Jerome explained.

“We’ve never had aqueous martinis before, but we’ll try them,” Violet replied.

“You’re adventurous,” Charlotte commented. “Just like your parents.”

Violet watched as Lizzie and Oliver shifted into a cat and a wolf cub, better to play with their new guardian’s dæmon. She thought about setting Prospero down among them, before deciding to wait a bit, just until she had more of a feel for the situation, and how safe they were here.

“I remember when we went up to Mount Fraught and did high-impact bird-watching,” Jerome said, handing Violet and Klaus a martini glass each.

“How many years ago was that?” Violet asked.

It took her a moment to work out how best to hold the martini glass, before she decided holding it by the stem was probably the best solution. A quick glance at Klaus told her that her brother hadn’t come to the same conclusion. He held it by the small circle on the bottom at first, then seemed to change his mind, opting to hold it by the rim instead. Violet shook her head, speechless.

“Was Montgomery Montgomery there?” Klaus asked, as if he wasn’t carrying a glass by its rim like an idiot. “Or Josephine Anwhistle?”

“Who?” Jerome asked, shaking his head. “No, I never met any of your previous guardians.”

“You don’t happen to own a spyglass?” Violet asked. Jerome shook his head again.

“No, but one of the eagles flew off with my best pair of binoculars that day- I was not happy, I can tell you that much.” He was quiet for a moment, preparing a couple more martinis. “And then, soon after that, I lost touch with your parents.” He shrugged, like that wasn’t a big deal. “You know how it is- you get older, you find different interests, you marry a woman who despises all of your old friends. But there's no need to discuss such unpleasantness now. I wanted to adopt you the moment I heard about the fire. Unfortunately, it was impossible.”

“Orphans were out then,” declared a voice from above them. “But now they're in.”

Klaus

Their other new guardian was a lady with shoulder-length pale blonde hair in loose waves, wearing a white pinstripe suit with a matching pencil skirt. Klaus couldn't quite see what her dæmon was through the railing, but he guessed that he was a white bird- possibly a goose.

“Good evening,” she said, smiling benevolently down at everyone.

“It’s mid-morning, my precious,” Jerome replied.

“I’m Esmé Gigi Genevieve Squalor, the city’s sixth most important financial adviser.” she said, as though he hadn’t spoken. She started to walk down the stairs, and once she reached the bottom, Klaus saw that her dæmon was indeed a white goose. “Even though I am unbelievably wealthy, you may call me Esmé. I'll learn your names later. I am very happy you're here- when all my friends hear that I have three real live orphans, they'll be sick with jealousy, won't they, Jerome?”

“Oh, I don't know,” Jerome replied. “I don't like to hear that anybody's sick.”

“You'll have such a glamorous life with me that your friends' eyes will roll back in their heads,” Esmé said, once again ignoring what Jerome had said. “You will be exposed to all the innest restaurants, the innest boutiques, premieres, cockfights, gallery openings!”

“What my wife means,” Jerome said, “is that we hope you'll feel safe and secure here.”

“Jerome, don't tell them silly things like that,” Esmé countered. “Okay, children, here are things you should know. Dark is in, light is out. Stairs are in, elevators are out. Pinstripe suits are…”

“In,” Klaus finished, guessing where this was going.

“Yes,” Esmé agreed. “And those horrible clothes you're wearing are out,” she added, gesturing to their Prufrock Prep uniforms.

“What my wife means is we hope you'll feel comfortable while you're here,” Jerome said, perhaps trying to balance out his wife’s shallow priorities. “I feel awful about all the terrible experiences you've had- this entire time, we could've been taking care of you.”

“It couldn't be helped,” Esmé said, taking a sip of her martini. “When something's out, it's out. And orphans used to be out.”

“We're glad you're interested in orphans now, because we are concerned about some of our friends,” Klaus said, seeing that they may be able to take advantage of Esmé’s priorities in order to help their friends.

“Oh, yes, the Quagmires,” Jerome replied. “I’m sure that the three of you are anxious for them to be rescued.”

“Yeah,” Klaus agreed. “We are anxious.”

“Well, if there's one good thing about being rich and powerful, it's you don't have to be anxious,” Esmé replied. “After they're found, the Quagmires will live right here with us. The more orphans the better- it's handy to have a few spares, just in case.”

“Rest at ease, Baudelaires!” Jerome said, for once ignoring what his wife had said, rather than the other way around. “You live in a penthouse now, you’re never gonna want for anything again!”

“All we want is for our friends to be safe,” Violet said.

“Well, I’m sure we’ll hear good news soon,” Jerome replied.

Just then, there was a knock at the apartment door. Esmé went to answer it, and came back clutching a newspaper, studying the front page.

“Big news!” she cried. “Big, fat, fantastic news about what we were just talking about!”

“Has Olaf been captured?” Violet asked.

“Have the Quagmires been rescued?” Klaus asked.

“Safe?” Sunny asked, by which she meant, Are we all gonna be safe now?

“Better!” Esmé said, turning the paper so they could all see it. “Dark is out, light is in!” Klaus rolled his eyes. That was it? Seriously? “We have to turn on lamps and open curtains before anyone sees! Jerome, flip the light switches in the west wing. Baudelaires, open the curtains in the living room.” She pulled a small switch out of a nearby drawer and handed it to Violet. “I’ll run around in panicky circles.”

Sunny

As Sunny followed her siblings into the living room, she absently stroked Oliver’s grey-brown fur. She wasn’t sad to be away from Prufrock Prep- all that walking in circles, and tapping away at the typewriter, and feeling sleepy all the time… Hopefully she wouldn't have to go to school ever again. But she was sad that Duncan and Isadora were gone, especially because Olaf had taken them away. What if he put them in a bird cage, like he had with her? What if he made them do difficult chores, like he had with all three Baudelaires? What if he- no, she couldn't think about it. He couldn't hurt them the way he’d hurt Uncle Monty and Auntie Josephine, could he?

“Something tells me the Squalors won’t be as helpful as we need them to be,” Violet said, bringing Sunny back to the present.

“Lumber mill,” Sunny observed. The way Esmé kept not letting Jerome say things, plus the way Jerome kept trying to be nice to them while Esmé didn’t try, reminded her of another pair of guardians they’d had recently, before coming to Prufrock.

“It is a bit familiar, you’re right,” Violet said. “You think we can trust Jerome, then?”

“Suppose,” she replied, with a small shrug. “Depends,” she added. After all, just because someone was nice, that didn’t mean you could depend on them to always be there, and always do the most helpful thing. Sunny knew enough about grown-ups by now to know that.

“Meanwhile,” Klaus pointed out, “Olaf could be getting further away.”

Klaus pressed the button on the small object Esmé had given, and the curtains swung open. Standing behind them was a tall, skinny man in an expensive-looking dark grey suit, with a dæmon that Sunny recognised straight away- a scarlet salamander.

“Fuck,” she said, by which she meant, You have got to be fucking kidding me.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven: In Which Violet And Klaus Explore Their New Home

Sunny

“Well, that’s no way to talk to your guardian,” Olaf said, hopping down from the window ledge.

“No garden!” Sunny pointed out, by which she meant, Good thing you’re not our guardian any more, then!

“I have no idea what she just said,” Olaf said, shaking his head. “Does this seem like a nightmare? A bad dream? Because that’s the effect I was going for. Well, I have nightmares, too, orphans- I wake up in the middle of the night screaming, and the only thing that comforts me is knowing the three of you will soon be screaming. Just like another set of wealthy orphans that happen to be in my clutches.”

“Duncan and Isadora,” Violet said. “Where are they?”

“You mean you don’t know?” Olaf asked, which was really not the answer Sunny had been hoping for. She’d hoped that Olaf might be stupid enough to just tell them where the Quagmires were. “I thought that everybody could smell wealthy orphans when they were in arm’s reach.” That was a silly way of putting it- if you couldn’t actually reach out for something, it wasn’t in arm’s reach. “Well, not to worry. Soon all of you orphans will be in my clutches. Quagmires in one clutch, and you, Baudelaires, in the other. This pesky citywide manhunt may have foreshadowed me from taking them far away, but not for long.”

“You mean forestalled,” Klaus replied. “But we're gonna stop you.” Sunny smiled at that- of course Klaus would have a plan to get their friends back. Maybe this time they would let Sunny help too. “Mr and Mrs Squalor?” Klaus shouted. “Olaf is here!”

That was it? They were just going to tell their guardians what was going on? When had that ever ended well?

“What?” Jerome called. “It can’t be- did I hear you right?”

“How did he get past the doorman?” Esmé asked, and Sunny heard her clicky shoes before she saw her come into the room. She wasn’t sure what those kinds of shoes were called, but she did know that they didn’t make a very nice sound on the floor. “How did he slip past the citywide manhunt?”

“Where is he?” Jerome asked, as the two grown-ups came into the living room. Quickly, Olaf pulled a rolled up piece of paper from behind his back, and unrolled it.

“He’s right here!” Violet replied, pointing to Olaf, who held the piece of paper in front of his face.

Sunny noticed that it was one of those posters that had been outside, the ones with Olaf’s face on them and the word Wanted on it in big letters. That seemed a bit silly- why would anyone want Count Olaf?

“It is true, please, what the babushka is saying,” Olaf said, in another silly, fake voice. “Count Olaf, please, is right here.” He pointed to the poster. He’d put on a pair of sunglasses, which covered up his eyes and his stupid eyebrow. “This poster is limited edition, please, and is autographed by the star of this month's city-wide manhunt.”

“How in the world did you manage that?” Esmé asked.

“Please, pretty lady, I am foreigner. We have secret ways,” Olaf replied, smiling at her.

“Esmé,” Jerome said, looking between Olaf and his wife. “Who is this man?”

“Jerome, I told you, Gunther was coming over today, and that he might need to hide behind the curtains,” Esmé replied.

“Oh, yes! It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance!” Jerome said.

Sunny looked between the three grown-ups. How had Olaf not only beat them to their new home, but had already gotten Esmé to believe in his newest identity? That had to be some kind of record. At least with Auntie Josephine, they’d had a bit of time before Captain Sham had popped up to ruin everything.

“Hello, please,” Olaf said. “I hope you'll forgive the way I am talking, but I am, please, a foreigner. Very nice to meet the husband of pretty lady Esmé and three hideous children. Is hideous the right word for what it is I am trying to say?”

“Pobbly,” Sunny said, which meant something like, Yeah, probably, knowing your view on kids.

“So foreign, so in,” Esmé said. In didn’t sound like a word any more, she had said it so much in the last hour or so.

“This is Count Olaf, and I don’t mean the poster,” Violet tried again.

“Beautiful, no?” Olaf asked, gesturing to the poster again. “I can see that Count Olaf is as handsome as a noble steed riding on the back of a beautiful princess. His legendary handsomeness is celebrated in special weekly holidays in my faraway land, please.”

“What faraway land is that?” Klaus asked.

“Far away,” Olaf replied, with dramatic emphasis.

“Well, I don’t think Count Olaf could get very far away,” Violet countered. “Not with the law closing in.”

“Oh,” Olaf said, his smile becoming more of a smirk. “But think about the poor Quagmire twins, and their sparkly sapphires.”

“They're not twins,” Klaus countered.

“If this Count Olaf is somehow recognized and taken to jail,” Olaf continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. “The little Quaggies will never be found in their, how do you say in your language, super-duper hiding place, and they will starve to death like castaways on desert island or vegetarian restaurant, please.”

“Oh, let’s not talk about depressing things like others being kidnapped,” Esmé said. “Let’s talk about exciting things that are happening to me, like the In Auction we’re planning.” Sunny frowned, wondering what an auction was. “The In Auction is happening on the innest day, tomorrow, at the innest auction house, Veblen Hall, and is being hosted by the innest auctioneer, this foreign man named Gunther,” Esmé explained. “Just look, look, look, look. Just look at this glossy but classy catalogue,” she added, handing Klaus a thin book with shiny-looking pages. “This auction is going to be so fashionable that people are going to have heart attacks and hives. Of course, all the money goes to a good cause.”

“Which good cause?” Jerome asked.

“Me,” Olaf and Esmé said at the same time.

“Every last penny goes to me,” Esmé said, firmly.

“Yes, but there will be auctioneer's fee and incidentals, so…” Olaf added.

“Shouldn't we give the proceeds to those who need it? Perhaps those starving people we were reading about?” Jerome suggested.

“Starving people can't eat money,” Esmé countered. “Plus, if we give money to poor people, they won't be poor any more, and we won't have anyone to feel sorry for.”

Sunny wondered if she had any idea how mean and nasty that sounded. Needing people to feel sorry for was no reason to not help others if you could. If you had more money than you needed, then you should give that to people who didn’t have money, it just made sense.

“That reminds me, you poor wealthy orphans, go far away, please. Esmé and I have to talk big fat business,” Olaf said.

“Yes!” Esmé replied. “Jerome, I need you to put the children into pinstripe suits before anyone sees them in those clothes and my life is ruined.”

“Kim,” Sunny said, by which she meant, Esmé, there’s people who are genuinely suffering. Then she allowed Jerome to lead her away from Olaf and Esmé.

Violet

“Come this way,” Jerome said, leading them through the corridors of the apartment. Even the walls were covered in black and white stripy paper, she noted. “Now, the Duchess of Winnipeg once stayed in this very room- or, it might have been that one.”

“How many rooms are there?” Klaus asked, pulling his dark blue notebook out of his pocket and taking notes.

“Seventy-one, I think,” Jerome replied. “I think that’s right, anyway. Of course, I don’t know what’s in half of them. The other day I found a kitchen I swear I’d never seen before- the omelette was really good, too.”

“So what your saying is, the penthouse has a lot of places you could hide?” Violet asked.

“Oh, I love hide and seek!” Jerome replied. “But this place is so big, I thought you'd like to bunk together for now- after all, children could get lost in this penthouse for ages.” He led them into a dressing room, with three screens already set up so they could change in privacy, then handed them each a flat box, covered in yet more striped paper. “Here's your pinstripe suits. I'm going to make another round of martinis while you three change.” He went to leave the room, turning in the doorway just before he closed the doors. “I am so glad you're here,” he said, leaving the room, Charlotte trotting at his heels.

Once he was gone, Violet and Klaus picked a divider each. Violet would help Sunny with her suit once she was done getting changed- hopefully it wouldn't be too big for her.

“I can’t believe Olaf found us so quickly,” she said, surprised to find that the suit fit her pretty well. The sleeves of the jacket were a little long, but that wasn’t so bad.

“That must mean the Quagmires are close,” Klaus replied. “He said they were within arm’s reach, because the manhunt forestalled him.”

“Shadfore,” Sunny pointed out, by which she meant, Well, technically he said it foreshadowed him, but that’s neither here nor there.

“Do you think he could be hiding in this apartment?” Violet asked. “I mean, Jerome did say that he didn’t know what’s in every room, and that children could stay lost here for ages.”

“Esmé invited Gunther here- do you think they could be working together?” Klaus asked.

“No way- Esmé’s already rich, she’d have nothing to gain,” Violet pointed out.

“That’s true,” Klaus replied. “Plus, she’s already married- even if she is falling for Count Olaf, it’s not like he could marry her or anything.”

“Jerome,” Sunny pointed out, which meant something like, Unless something happened to Jerome, right?

Violet looked at Klaus from across their dividers- their sister was right. They had to make sure nothing happened to Jerome, at least until they could figure out how to stop Olaf and rescue their friends.

Klaus

Once they had changed into their suits-which fit surprisingly well, including Sunny's- Klaus and his sisters made their way back into the living room. Klaus worried they might get lost, but thankfully, they were able to retrace the same steps Jerome had led them along earlier, and find their way.

“You keep them distracted,” Violet said, drawing her ribbon from her suit pocket. “I’ll see what I can find.”

“Got it,” Klaus replied, though in all honesty, he wanted to be the one to do the searching- if Duncan were in this place, Klaus wanted to be the one to find him.

As Klaus entered the living room, Sunny following beside him, he noticed that Jerome was standing beneath one of the vast chandeliers, and that Olaf was waving his cane around, dangerously close to the rope which was holding the chandelier up.

“Would pretty lady Esmé and husband like to see party trick?” he asked, pressing a button at the top of the cane and producing a small blade at the other end. He was aiming the blade straight at the connecting rope- one slice would probably be enough to send the chandelier crashing down on Jerome’s head.

“No, stop!” Klaus shouted, giving Jerome a hard shove. Luckily, he was able to catch his guardian by surprise, knocking him onto a nearby sofa and out of harm’s way.

“What are you doing?” Esmé demanded. “This sofa belonged to the King of Arizona, you don’t recline on it!”

“Sorry, darling,” Jerome said, quickly climbing off the sofa and getting to his feet.

“But Gunther… and the chandelier…” Klaus tried to explain, though as usual it didn’t seem to matter.

“Gunther was just showing us some of his cane tricks, that earned him a bronze medal for his country's non-trademark-violating version of the Olympics,” Esmé explained. “Weren’t you, Gunther?”

“Indeed,” Gunther replied. “In my country, children do not interrupt married couple and foreign man turning tricks.”

“Let's forgive them this once, seeing as they've finally put on some in suits,” Esmé replied- as though they had been here for a week instead of an hour or two, and had insisted on wearing their school uniforms the whole time.

“Where is the other one, please?” Olaf asked, apparently only now noticing there were two Baudelaires in the room, instead of three.

“My sister's exploring,” Klaus explained. “She said she wants to see every inch of this penthouse.”

“I hope she’s careful,” Jerome replied. “Without a system in a place like this, a person could easily get lost.”

“I wouldn't worry about that- Violet’s very resourceful.” He paused, an idea forming in his head. It would allow him to kill two birds with one stone- to search the rest of the apartment, while also keeping the adults busy. “I’d like to see the rest of the apartment too, actually.”

“No, no, please,” Olaf replied. “I do not approve of small child browsing penthouse.”

Small child? I’m nearly thirteen, for God’s sake, Klaus thought, resisting the urge to shake his head. Olaf’s reluctance to let him go exploring was making him wonder if Duncan and Isadora really were hiding somewhere in this apartment, so he would have to ignore Olaf for now and press his actual guardians on the matter.

“It shouldn't take long,” he said. “This penthouse only has, what, two or three rooms?”

“Two or three rooms?” Esmé exclaimed. “Two or three rooms? Step this way, orphan boy, and prepare to be so dazzled your eyes will turn black!”

As Esmé led them out of the living room so that they could begin their tour, Olaf grabbed Klaus’s arm.

“I know what your sister is up to,” he hissed.

“And we know what you’re up to, and you won’t get away with it,” Klaus replied.

“Really?” Olaf asked, and Klaus wondered if he was rolling his eyes beneath his sunglasses. “Have you seen my press clippings? I could get away with murder- again.”

“This is the formal dining room,” Esmé said, leading them through an opulent room dominated by a finely carved oak table and several fancy chairs, with a couple of large, ornate vases on top of the table.

“I love these vases, don’t you?” Jerome asked.

“They are rather large,” Olaf observed. “Sturdy enough to cause a fatal concussion, no?”

“This is the semiformal dining room,” Esmé continued, taking them through a room that was about the same size as the first, but decidedly less fancy. The vases were smaller, and the chairs were plain.

“These vases are cute, too,” Jerome said, giving one a little tap.

“Yes, but still heavy enough for a good whacking,” Olaf replied.

So far, Jerome seemed to be missing these threats against his life and safety- though when Klaus looked down at Charlotte, he could see that she was cowering slightly, and her ears were tucked lower than they had been earlier. She was showing a degree of fear, even if Jerome was keeping up a more cheerful front.

Esmé took them through a few more rooms- the informal dining room, the games room, the bowling alley, and her powder room- before leading them into a separate wing altogether. So far, there was no sign of Duncan or Isadora- or of Violet, for that matter. Though Klaus suspected his sister was close by- he’d seen chalk marks on a few of the door frames, presumably put there by Violet so she wouldn’t forget which rooms she’d checked.

“Now, in this wing, I have a number of rooms where I display my most expensive, most in objects,” Esmé explained. “This is an enormous basket of rutabagas, the innest root vegetable,” she continued, taking them past the aforementioned basket. “This is a collection of extremely long rubber bands, and this is Spain's largest handkerchief.”

She stopped beside what appeared to be a large handkerchief with a pattern of Spanish flags on it.

“This looks large enough for, how do you say, suffocating rich person,” Olaf said.

“What was that?” Jerome asked.

“Nothing,” Olaf replied, then pretended to sneeze, possibly to distract from what he’d said.

“Bless you,” Esmé said, her goose-dæmon flapping his wings in sympathy.

“Thank you, pretty lady,” Olaf replied. “I must be allergic to something in this room, that is not large handkerchief or you two adult people.”

“The orphans, perhaps?” Esmé suggested, and Olaf nodded.

“Yes, that must be it- I must be allergic to the orphans.”

“Is it their dust?"

“Yes, yes, or their ashes- they clog up my whole… what’s the word?”

“Glands?” Jerome suggested.

“Life,” Olaf finished.

Klaus didn’t even have the energy to explain how ridiculous that was, so he decided not to dignify any of it with a response.

Violet

While Klaus and Sunny kept the adults busy, Violet had taken herself on her own tour of the apartment. Unfortunately, she hadn’t found any sign of her friends, or anything else of much note for that matter. There had been a moment when she had thought she’d found a possible hiding space- one of the rooms had contained a large wardrobe, big enough to stash two kids of roughly the same size, but instead it had only contained several racks of pastel-coloured dresses, which must’ve been in at some point, and were perhaps being kept aside in case they became in again.

She had almost been caught once, in Esmé’s powder room. Olaf had come back in, after the others had left, and she’d had to hide behind the full length mirror until he left again. She might as well not have bothered going into that room- there hadn’t been anything interesting in there, apart from a tea set that was missing its sugar bowl, and probably should be put somewhere safer, before any more pieces of it could get lost too.

Finally, she joined her siblings and her guardians, and pulled the ribbon from her hair, tying it round her wrist in case she needed it again.

“Ah, we found Violet!” Jerome said, when he saw her. Charlotte wagged her tail in greeting, and Prospero waved a paw back at her.

“How was the tour?” Violet asked Klaus.

“Thorough,” Klaus replied. “And fruitless,” he added, when the adults were out of earshot.

“So we’re right back where we started.”

“Don’t be silly- we started in the dining room!” Esmé replied. “Speaking of dining, I am so hungry, I could chew off your arm. Luckily, the innest restaurant is only half a block away.”

Does she think of anything besides what’s in and what isn’t? Violet wondered. While it was good that there was a restaurant so close by that met Esmé’s standards, it didn’t really seem fair that they all had to go along with those standards in every area- they were already dressed the way she wanted them to be dressed, why couldn't that be enough?

“We’ll take the block-long limousine to get there,” Esmé continued. “Think of the publicity! We could get our picture in the paper!”

Violet rolled her eyes- she would be quite happy to never feature in the Daily Punctilio for the rest of her life, but of course Esmé would feel differently about that.

“Quick, let’s take one now!” her guardian said, going over to one of the cupboards and producing a camera.

“I’m not sure the Baudelaires would…” Jerome began. Esmé just rolled her eyes, handing him the camera.

“Kids, come on,” she said, gesturing for Violet and her siblings to stand beside her and Olaf. “Orphans in the photo will generate excitement, like celebrities or sled dogs,” she added, as they all got into position. “There we go, that’s lovely.” She looked at the camera her husband was holding, and smiled. “Make sure you get the pinstripes in, Jerome! Say cheese, everyone!”

With the picture taken, there was nothing to do but head downstairs to lunch. Before they left, though, Jerome paused, to look out of one of the large windows in the living room.

“Look- they’re cutting down all the trees on our street.”

Violet went over to look, and sure enough, far, far below, the large trees, which looked no bigger than paper-clips from up here, were being chopped down by little green dots.

“Of course they're cutting them down,” Esmé said, setting a large black hat on her head. “Dark is out, light is in.”

Violet frowned- while those trees had made the street so dark and gloomy, it seemed a shame to cut them all down just because the trends had changed.

“If this is what happens when dark becomes out,” Prospero whispered, “I’m not sure I want to know what will happen when orphans become out.” Violet couldn't help agreeing with him.

Chapter Text

Klaus

It took much less time to get down the stairs than it had to get up them- though that wasn’t particularly reassuring, since they would have to climb back up once they returned to the apartment building later.

“Have a wonderful lunch, Mrs. Squalor,” the doorman said, as they entered the lobby. “Take care out there, though- there is still a manhunt going on.”

“Thank you, sir,” Klaus said, when he realised that Esmé was just breezing past as if the doorman hadn’t said anything. “We’ll keep that in mind.”

The six of them all piled into a ridiculously long limousine, which seemed like way too much considering that Esmé had said the restaurant was only a block away.

“Limousine,” Esmé said, once they’d all taken their seats. “Corner of Dark and Stormy, step on it.”

“My name’s actually Abraham,” the limousine driver said.

“I love that new coat,” Olaf said, as though the driver hadn’t said anything.

“Yes, isn’t it in?” Esmé asked. She was wearing a black cloak, which appeared to be made from feathers. “Imprisoned nuns made it from the feathers of a rare species of bat.”

“Bats don't have feathers,” Klaus pointed out.

“Not this species,” Esmé replied. “Not any more, at least!”

They reached the corner in a couple of minutes, and Abraham hopped out so that he could open their doors.

“The other side!” Esmé snapped. Abraham moved round to the other side of the limo, and pulled the doors open on that side.

“You’re sure you searched the entire penthouse?” Klaus asked, once the adults had gotten out of the car.

“I’m sure,” Violet replied. “I had a system to keep track. So, if the Quagmires really are in arm’s reach…”

“Then they must be somewhere else in the building.”

The restaurant they were standing in front of, Herring Houdini, looked as though it had been slapped together in a few minutes. The sign declaring its name was scrawled onto a piece of cardboard that had been stuck on the door-frame, and the windows were all boarded up.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Lizzie muttered, as Esmé led them into the restaurant.

Inside, they were greeted by the two white-faced women, though Klaus could see the rest of Olaf’s troupe milling about the restaurant entrance.

“Welcome to Herring Houdini!” One of the white-faced women greeted.

“A totally legitimate business,” her sister continued.

“With no secret agenda behind it,” the first one concluded. Klaus wondered if it was too soon to go back to the apartment.

“Welcome to Herring Houdini, the home of pickled fish,” added the dark-haired henchperson.

“Everything has been prepared for you,” said one of the white-faced women.

“And very quickly,” her sister added.

“For the children, we offer a tour of the kitchen,” the hook-handed man said, gesturing in what Klaus assumed was the general direction of the kitchens. “And for the adults, we have…”

“Vodka martinis,” the bald man said, holding out two glasses by their stems.

On seeing this, Klaus now felt a bit silly for holding the glass he’d been given earlier by its rim, but there was no time to dwell on that feeling too much. Right now, he had a bigger problem.

“We can’t eat here,” he said. It might not do much good, but he had to at least try. Nothing good could come from staying in a restaurant run by such detestable people.

“This sounds perfect, yes,” Olaf replied, his scarlet salamander sticking her tongue out at Klaus like she was making fun of him.

“Well, I don’t like to argue,” Jerome said, “so I’ll let my wife decide.”

They all looked at Esmé, who had a look of pure disgust on her face. Klaus allowed himself to smile, hoping this might mean she was going to insist they leave and go somewhere else.

“Vodka in a martini?” she asked, glaring at the bald man and at the drinks he held. “Are we living in garbage?”

“Thank God for her vanity,” Lizzie muttered, as Esmé led them out of the restaurant.

They all piled into the limousine once again, and for a moment Klaus hoped they’d just go back to the apartment.

“Limousine, take us to a restaurant that is actually in,” she demanded.

Rather than start to drive them anywhere, though, Abraham just opened the doors on the other side of the limousine. They all climbed out, and looked up at a restaurant with the name Cafe Salmonella. It had a large red sign with the name in flashing yellow letters, and looked much more like an actual restaurant.

“Pretty lady, why don’t you eat here with your boring husband?” Olaf asked. “I’ll take the children back to the herring restaurant for… how do you say, hors d'oeuvre.”

“Don’t be silly, we’re not driving all the way back there,” Esmé replied. “Just look at this place- the Daily Punctilio says that it’s the innest thing since that bakery on Ninth Street.”

“You mean Sliced Bread?” Jerome asked. He looked up at the sign. “Cafe Salmonella it is, then.”

“You’re going to love the theme,” Esmé assured them, leading the way into the restaurant.

Sunny

So far, Sunny was not loving the theme of Cafe Salmonella, not one little bit, despite what Esmé had said. The entire place seemed to be centred around salmons- even the waiters were dressed up as salmons. Was this what being a fancy rich person meant, eating lots of salmon while people walked around in silly costumes? If so, Sunny wasn’t sure if she wanted to be a fancy rich person.

The place wasn’t all bad, though. Once they had all sat down- Sunny and her siblings on one side of the table, the grown-ups on the other- a waiter came up to their table- a very familiar waiter, with a very familiar dæmon trotting at his heels.

“Hello, I’m Larry, your waiter,” said Larry, their waiter. “Welcome to Cafe Salmonella, the innest restaurant, and the only one serving an all-salmon menu, including beverages and table linens.”

“It's that waiter,” Violet whispered, as Larry passed around six menus. “He's everywhere we go, he's always trying to help.”

Sunny was about to bite the menu, to see if it would taste of salmon, when Olaf stood up.

“I, um, I am feeling queasy, please, I must run back to pretty lady’s apartment right away!”

“Nonsense!” Larry replied. “We've had the menu translated for our foreign guests.”

“What language did you have it translated into?” Olaf asked.

“The one you speak most fluently.”

“Well, well, I speak all of them hella fluently, so…”

“Then there's nothing to worry about,” Larry said. “Now, take a seat, and your food will be brought to you shortly.”

Olaf shook his head, but took a seat beside Esmé. Sunny bit the menu- which did not taste of salmon- and wondered how long they were going to be stuck here.

“May I start you off with still or sparkling salmon-flavored water?” Larry asked, returning to their table with two jugs, each containing a pink liquid.

“Salmon-flavored?” Esmé asked, smiling. “You are making my mouth water and turn pink!”

There was quite a bit of pink in this place- restaurant, Sunny corrected herself. That was what everyone else was calling it. Sunny was reminded of Carmelita Spats, one of their former classmates from Prufrock, who hadn’t been so bad in the end. She might appreciate all this pink more than Sunny did.

“How do you make it salmon-flavored?” Jerome asked, bringing Sunny back to the moment.

“We put salmon in it,” Larry explained. He had a weird way of saying the word “salmon,” like it was meant to have an L in it that everybody else just forgot about.

“In that case, I'll just have regular water,” Jerome said.

“So will we,” Violet added.

“Nonsense!” Esmé exclaimed. “What if someone sees you? Regular water isn't in!”

“It's the primary ingredient in aqueous martinis,” Klaus pointed out.

“The young people might enjoy playing along with the theme of Café Salmonella,” Larry said, scribbling something onto a napkin and holding it out so only Sunny and her siblings could see. “Its virulently fishy décor may be of particular interest,” he added, pointing to the three letters on the napkin.

Sunny could see them clear enough, but it took a moment for her to realise what they were. V is for violin, F is for frog, D is for dog… V.F.D, she realised, remembering what her siblings had told her about the secret the Quagmires had shared with them as they were being driven away. Speaking of the Quagmires...

“We just wish our friends could be here enjoying it with us,” Violet said.

“That's understandable,” Larry replied. “It's quite a quagmire to be stuck in a fashionable apartment while others are enjoying the escape of a glamorous meal.”

“Can you be more specific?” Klaus asked.

Under the table, Oliver jumped down from where he was seated on Sunny’s lap. Sunny wondered what he was doing, but decided to wait until he was finished before she asked.

“Sit tight for a long lunch, and everything will be taken care of by your loyal wait staff,” Larry said, making a strange gesture with one hand. Two of his fingers were bent into a sort of eye shape, while the little finger was held straight up, and the other two were held at a sort of angle. It took Sunny way too long to realise that the gesture was meant to look like the strange eye that seemed to be everywhere. “I suggest a 46-course tasting menu designed for persons living in a 46-story building. It is a nice, slow, leisurely meal that keeps people in their seats until everyone has been successfully rescued.”

Up until now, Larry had seemed to be talking in a strange kind of code, and Sunny hadn’t known what he was actually saying. But now she thought she had an idea. Was someone else going to try and rescue Duncan and Isadora? Had they managed to work out where they were being hidden?

Before anyone else could respond, another group came up to their table. There was Mr. Poe, wearing a pinstriped tie and his usual grey suit, Mrs. Poe, wielding her camera, and the statue lady from Uncle Monty’s maze. Sunny had almost forgotten about her- it had been a very, very long time since she’d last seen her, after all.

“Rich People Have Lunch!” Mrs. Poe exclaimed, snapping a photo of the Baudelaires and their guardians. “Wait until the readers of the Daily Punctilio see this!” Did the readers of the Daily Punctilio have nothing better to do? “Esmé Squalor dining at Café Salmonella with three orphans and a handsome foreign man.”

“And her husband,” Jerome added.

“Not pictured,” Esmé muttered.

“Je m'appelle…” Olaf said, standing up and kissing Mrs. Poe’s hand.

“Ooh! Continental,” Mrs. Poe replied, smiling. Sunny rolled her eyes- why were grown-ups always so weird?

“Baudelaires, so happy to see you, and in such stylish circumstances,” Mr. Poe said, focusing on Sunny and her siblings. “An unemployed librarian came into my office who had her doubts about you living in high society. Now that I see you eating in a stylish restaurant, I know you'll be properly cared for by the city's seventh most powerful financial adviser.”

“Sixth!” Esmé snapped, sounding just as insulted by that as she had been by those drinks Olaf’s henchman had offered earlier. “Sixth!”

Oliver, meanwhile, had climbed back into Sunny’s lap. So far, he hadn’t told her what he’d been doing, though he had promised to fill her in when they were alone.

“Mr. Poe, it's important we speak with you,” Violet said.

“It's important I speak with the lady with flashy camera,” Olaf said, before Mr. Poe could reply. “It's true that you're deciding which restaurant is in and which is out?” he asked Mrs. Poe.

“The Daily Punctilio has an impeccable reputation,” she replied. “We predicted the outcome of two of the last nine elections.”

Was that a good thing? Two didn’t seem like a very big number, but maybe nine wasn’t very big either, so maybe getting two out of nine things right was a good thing.

“Would you like a hot tip on the next restaurant to be in?”

“From a handsome foreign man? Do tell!”

“Right this way,” Olaf said, leading Mrs. Poe away. Sunny frowned- she wasn’t sure what Olaf was planning, but she didn’t like it.

“If you're here, Mr. Poe, then who's looking for the Quagmires?” Klaus asked.

“An excellent question, Klaus,” the statue lady replied. She wore a grey jacket and a black hat, her butterfly-dæmon resting on the top.

“You remember my administrative assistant, Jacquelyn,” Mr. Poe said.

So that was the statue lady’s name, Sunny thought.

“Of course,” Violet said. “We've seen her in a movie, and a labyrinth.”

Sunny remembered the labyrinth encounter, though it felt like it had happened a very long time ago, and she sort of remembered the movie- it had had something to do with zombies, hadn’t it?

“And in my office,” Mr. Poe said, like that was the only place they could’ve possibly seen Jacquelyn. “She asked for a lunch to celebrate Secretary's Day.”

“I was in the mood for some vigorously fancy dining,” Jacquelyn said, making eye contact with each of the children in turn as she said those last three words. “So we can all sit back and relax, because everything is going according to plan.”

“It is?” Klaus asked.

They were all desperate to find the Quagmires, but Sunny had noticed that Klaus seemed especially keen to rescue them. She wondered if it was because of Duncan- Klaus did seem to like him a lot. All of that stuff sounded quite silly to Sunny, but maybe it would make sense when she was older.

Violet

Larry hadn’t even brought their first course to the table when Olaf returned. Violet had hoped he would stay away for longer- maybe for the rest of their lives- but clearly that wasn’t happening.

“I'm back! Oh, did I miss the entire lunch?” he asked, taking a seat beside Esmé again.

“You didn't even miss the first course, which is creamy salmon soup with a hint of salmon and the eye of a salmon hidden in the bottom,” Larry said, setting down a bowl of soup in front of each of them.

Maybe by the time they were done here, salmon wouldn't even sound like a word any more. Not that Violet intended for them to be here that long. They had to get back to 667 Dark Avenue- whatever Larry, Jacquelyn and their associates were planning, Violet doubted it would actually succeed, but if it did, she wanted to be there for her friends.

Larry continued to place salmon-based dish after salmon-based dish in front of them, and with each new plate of pink food, Violet felt more and more trapped. How were they ever meant to get away when there were so many people around, and with Larry in particular seeming determined to keep everybody in their seats?

If only someone would realise that Gunther and Olaf were the same person, and preferably not at the last minute, when the damage had already been done. However, trying to get anyone to believe Gunther was Olaf felt as difficult as trying to swim upstream.

“Gunther, your culture is so interesting,” Esmé said. Clearly, there was no use trying to convince her, not just yet anyway, they’d need more proof. “Not like other countries that make me feel guilty and uncomfortable.”

“Jerome, have you noticed anything about Gunther?” Violet asked. Jerome seemed the most likely to listen, particularly now that Esmé was distracted.

“He has a bit of an accent,” he replied.

“Something more suspicious than an accent,” she said. Jerome shook his head.

“Baudelaires, I'm surprised at you! Do you know what xenophobia means?”

“Phobia means the fear of,” Klaus said. “Like podophobia means the fear of feet, for instance.

“Yes, but xenophobia is the fear of strangers, because they come from different places or happen to eat different foods,” Jerome replied. “I never expected you children to be xenophobic- after all, your parents weren't afraid of anything, least of all foreigners. You should've seen your mother when she fought that eagle- she was a remarkable woman. I just wish that I'd listened to her more.”

“Why did you lose touch?” Violet asked, genuinely curious.

“Oh, there's many factors,” Jerome replied, though he didn’t elaborate on what any of them were.

Klaus

Klaus was pretty sure that he never wanted to eat anything remotely salmon flavoured for the rest of his life. He was so bored, and so fed up, and all he really wanted to do was to get back to the apartment, even if it did mean climbing all those stairs again. He was about to fall asleep at the table when Mrs. Poe came bustling past, still carrying her camera, though thankfully she didn’t seem to be planning on using it.

“Make way for an important reporter!” she said, though there wasn’t anyone in her way. “I just phoned in a hot scoop that will really elevate our readership.”

Klaus frowned, taking in what she had said. Elevate our readership… The phrasing seemed perfectly innocuous, but the more he thought about it… the more elevate our started to sound like elevator, and Klaus was reminded of something he hadn’t really thought about since they had first arrived at the penthouse.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“I said, Important reporter coming through,” Mrs. Poe said, and walked away.

“You're thinking about something,” Violet said. “Aren’t you?”

“It could be nothing, but it could be everything,” he replied. “Can we get back to 667 Dark Avenue?” he asked their guardians. Maybe that was what it would take to get them all home, just asking outright.

“Not until you get through the entire life cycle of the salmon,” Larry chimed in, placing six more plates down.

“This is, how do I say, the end, il finito, el end de lunch de salmono, please!” Olaf said, tossing down his napkin and standing up.

“Please, sir,” Larry said, trying to guide Olaf back into his seat. “There are more floors, I mean courses, to go.”

“We can't leave now!” Esmé protested. “Eating too much food for too much money is the essence of civilization. Nothing would make me leave this place!”

Just then, Mrs. Poe passed their table again, dropping a newspaper on it, right in front of Esmé. She seemed to be going round passing them to everybody in the restaurant. Esmé looked down at the paper, and let out a scream when she saw the headline.

“Café Salmonella is out! Herring Houdini is in!” she exclaimed.

“Well, isn’t that convenient,” Lizzie whispered.

“Finally!” Olaf said, getting to his feet once again. I'm putting the orphans in doggy bag to take home.”

“What are you talking about? It's time to eat!” Esmé countered, and once again, it seemed like her vanity might save the day.

“After a meal like that…” Jerome began, before trailing off.

“Hurry, hurry, hurry,” Esmé said, gesturing for them all to stand up. We have to go before anyone else sees us eating in this hole-in-the-wall!” The restaurant was already emptying out into the street, and it seemed inevitable that the six of them would be swept up in the tide. “This place is so out!” Esmé exclaimed, as she joined the crowd.

“This is our chance,” Violet said. “Jerome, that place is fishy,” she said, grabbing their other guardian’s sleeve. “Don't eat or drink anything they give you.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I never want to eat or drink anything fishy again,” Jerome said, before allowing the current of people to sweep him out of the restaurant.

“Come on,” Violet hissed, grabbing Klaus’s sleeve.

She ducked under the table they had been sitting at, tugging Klaus and Sunny with her. The tablecloth reached down to the floor- they were about as well hidden as they could be. More important than that, though, they were out of the crowd of people. Before long, they would be the last people left in Cafe Salmonella, and they would be able to make their way back to the apartment without any interference from Olaf, his henchpeople, or the Squalors. Klaus just hoped that it would be worth it, and that they’d find what- and more importantly who- they were looking for.

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine: In Which The Baudelaires Go Down An Elevator Shaft

Violet

“Violet,” Klaus asked, after they had finished climbing the stairs and reached the apartment again. “What do you know about elevators?”

“Quite a bit, actually,” Violet replied, remembering something she hadn’t thought about in a long time. “My friend Ben gave me some elevator blueprints for my birthday a couple years ago, and I studied them very closely.” She wondered what had become of Ben- maybe she’d reach out to him once this was all over. “I remember that an elevator is essentially an enclosed platform, that moves along the vertical axis via an endlessly looped belt and a series of ropes. It’s controlled by a push-button console that regulates an electromagnetic braking system so the transport sequence can be halted an any access point the passenger desires. In other words, it’s a box that moves up or down, depending on where you want to go. Why do you want to know all this, though?”

“What Mrs. Poe said about elevators got me thinking,” he replied. “On every other floor there is one elevator, but here there's two.” He pointed to the second pair of elevator doors.

“There has to be an explanation,” Violet said, walking over to the doors. “Look, there’s a button pointing up- why would you need a button pointing up if you were on the top floor?”

“Wonka?” Sunny speculated, which meant something like, Maybe it’s a magic elevator, and it can fly?

“It’s not gonna be a magic elevator, Sunny,” Klaus said. “Maybe this is where Count Olaf hid the Quagmires.”

He reached forward and pressed the up button. The gold doors of the elevator slid open to reveal… nothing.

“There’s nothing here,” Violet said. “There’s no platform, no console, no cables or electromagnetic braking system. There's no elevator at all.”

“The elevator's ersatz,” Klaus said. “It's just a long dark tunnel.”

“Shaft,” Sunny added.

“Duncan and Isadora got kidnapped while trying to help us,” Klaus said, shaking his head. “It's our fault they're gone.”

“It's not,” Violet replied, already pulling out her ribbon.

“It is if we don't rescue them.”

“We will,” she said, and tied up her hair.

They went to the wing where Esmé kept her innest items in order to get their supplies. Violet wanted to construct a small, basic hot air balloon of sorts- that would require a basket, a large piece of cloth and quite a lot of very long rubber bands.

Klaus fetched the bands, Violet grabbed the basket, emptying it of rutabagas, and Sunny found the handkerchief, wearing it like a large red and yellow cape. They met up in the foyer, where they had first met Esmé. It felt like a week had passed since then, though it had only been a matter of hours.

Quickly, Violet started weaving some of the rubber bands together into two ropes. She attached one to each of the handles of the basket, then to two corners of the handkerchief. Klaus passed her supplies as needed, and Sunny sat nearby and gnawed on one of the abandoned rutabagas.

Soon, the invention was ready. Together, they pushed it out of the apartment, and kept pushing it until it was right in front of the elevator. Violet pressed the up button, causing the doors to open and reveal the long, empty shaft. She lifted Sunny into the basket, who still had the rutabaga in one hand and Oliver in the other.

“You nervous?” she asked, as she and Klaus pushed the basket a little closer to the edge.

“I’m anxious,” Klaus replied. “I’m not sure if I’m ready to do this.”

“Me neither- but if we wait until we’re ready, then we’ll be waiting for the rest of our lives.”

With that, she pushed the basket as close to the edge as she could get it without it falling over altogether, then she and Klaus carefully climbed into it, Violet pulled it the rest of the way and they floated slowly down to the bottom.

They arrived in a room that was very small, very filthy and very, very dark. The only things Violet could make out in the gloom were a large silver cage, and the figures of her two friends, who were huddled inside it.

“Duncan!” Klaus cried, climbing out of the basket.

“Isadora!” Violet cried, joining him.

“Quags!” Sunny cried, poking her head over the top of the basket.

Violet picked her up and set her down on the ground, then all three Baudelaires went over to the cage. Lizzie shifted into a moth and flew through the bars of the cage, then shifted into a cat and curled up with Dorothy, who was in her dog form.

“You found us!” Duncan exclaimed. “I’m so happy to see you!”

Violet smiled, relieved to see that her friends were alive, though she wished she were seeing them in better circumstances. The Quagmires were still dressed in their Prufrock Prep uniforms, though said uniforms were both in a mess, and both of their ties were gone. Duncan’s hair was sticking up all over the place, and Isadora’s long hair was a tangled mess. But worse than all of that, though, was the haunted look in both triplet’s eyes.

“I’ve never been so happy to see anyone,” Isadora said, and Violet wished she could just reach right through the bars of the cage and pull her out. “How did you find us?”

“It was Klaus’s idea,” Violet explained.

“It was Violet's invention,” Klaus added.

“Root!” Sunny added, which meant something like, I didn’t really have anything to do with it, but I did bring a rutabaga, so you can have that if you want.

“Thanks, Sunny,” Duncan said, reaching a hand through the bar and taking the rutabaga in question. “Violet, do you think you can pick this lock?”

“Not without any tools,” Violet replied. “I wish I could see what’s down here,” she added, after checking her pockets for anything she could use.

“Have you still got the spyglass?” Isadora asked. Klaus nodded. “Pass it here, I’ll show you guys something.” Klaus handed over the spyglass, and Isadora gave the spyglass a few turns. “See, if you line up the markings like this, and you give it a half-turn counter clockwise…” A beam of light came from the end of the spyglass, and she passed it back to Klaus.

“We learned that in The Incomplete History of Secret Organizations,” Duncan explained.

“You found it?” Klaus asked.

“Right before we were kidnapped,” Duncan replied, pulling his dark green notebook from his blazer pocket. “We took as many notes as we could- we may be kidnap victims, but I’m still a journalist.”

“We’ve learned many haunting secrets,” Isadora added.

“About our parents, and your parents too,” Duncan continued. “We were right, everything is connected.”

“Well, what did you learn?” Violet asked, then shook her head. “No, never mind, you can tell us when you’re safe.”

“We heard Olaf’s plan,” Duncan said. “He’ll hide us in an item at the In Auction and sneak us out of the city tomorrow.”

“No, he’s not,” Klaus replied, reaching for Duncan’s hand. “You’re coming with us, right now.”

Violet frowned, giving the spyglass a couple more turns. “I think it’s an electromagnetic circuit- it’s not just light, it’s heat.” She held her hand in front of the light beam, feeling the warmth. “I wonder…”

“The Incomplete History of Secret Organizations said it can be used for all sorts of things,” Isadora said. “Maybe it can melt the lock.”

Violet held the spyglass in front of the lock. The lock started to shake, and it appeared to glow, but other than that nothing of any note happened.

“Is it working?” Duncan asked after a minute.

“No, I think it’s just making the metal hotter.” She sighed. “It’s not gonna work, I can feel it overheating.”

“There must be something else you can use,” Isadora said.

Violet reached into her pocket for her ribbon, before remembering that her hair was already tied back. Shifting the beam of the spyglass to the ground, she picked up a scrap of newspaper that was lying on the floor. Holding the spyglass under it, she let it go, watching as the scrap floated in place.

“Heat rises,” she observed. Klaus frowned at her, looking confused. “We have to go back to the penthouse.”

“You’re leaving?” Isadora asked, gripping the bars tighter.

“Only for a little while, we’re gonna find something to get you out,” Violet replied. “Klaus, gather the handkerchief as tight as you can.”

“I see what you mean, heat rises,” Klaus said, reluctantly letting go of Duncan’s hand and gathering up the handkerchief.

“And so will we,” Violet said.

“Sunny and I should stay here.”

“No, Klaus,” Duncan said. “You should help your sister- just, come back soon.”

“We will,” Klaus said, picking Sunny up and placing her back in the basket. “We promise.”

“No mourners,” Isadora said, holding Shelley close.

“No funerals,” Violet replied, remembering what she’d said when they had parted ways in Prufrock.

Violet and Klaus climbed back into the basket, and Lizzie slipped out of the cage and joined them. Violet held the spyglass under the handkerchief, and the three of them started to rise up out of the tiny room.

“You saved us at Prufrock,” Duncan said. “We’d be in Olaf’s clutches if not for you. So, I'm sure you know.”

“What?” Klaus asked.

“What friends are for,” Duncan replied, just as the basket floated higher, and the cage disappeared out of sight.

Klaus

Klaus hadn’t wanted to leave Duncan alone- or Isadora, for that matter. But if it meant that they could find some way to free them properly, it would have to be worth it.

“Let’s hope we make it to the top before the Squalors and Olaf get home,” he said. Then he frowned- something wasn’t right. “Can you smell smoke?”

“It’s the handkerchief,” Violet said, looking up quickly. “The fabric is burning, the heat is too intense.”

“What do we do?” Klaus asked, grabbing the rim of the basket and resisting the urge to look down.

“I need to moderate the temperature,” she replied. “It has to be hot enough to rise but not so hot that it burns.”

“That sounds very specific.”

“How far from the top are we?”

“Not close enough.” Klaus replied, looking up.

“How far from the bottom are we?” she asked. Klaus was too scared to look down and answer that. “I'm gonna fix this.”

She adjusted the dials on the spyglass, switching it off. For a moment, nothing happened, and then they started to fall. Klaus gripped the basket tighter, barely able to hold in his scream. Violet adjusted the dials again, and they stopped falling.

“If I turn it on and off, it might stabilise,” she explained, continuing to adjust the dials. “If we maintain a consistent heat level, we should make it.”

Klaus nodded, though he didn’t let go of the basket- at least, not until the handkerchief exploded.

Luckily, they were near enough to the top by that point that Violet and Klaus were able to grab onto the bottom of the elevator doorway and pull themselves up. Klaus reached down and lifted up Sunny, who had been hanging on with her teeth, while Violet held onto Prospero, who had been clinging tightly to the shoulder of her suit jacket the whole time they had been in the balloon.

“Well, that could've been a lot worse,” he joked.

Sunny

Sunny wasn’t really sure what they were meant to do now. Of course they’d need to find something so they could bust the Quagmires out of their cage- she had been sort of right, after all, when she’d guessed Olaf would put them in a cage of some sort- but what would they use? And how would they get back down without the basket?

“I saw a circular saw in the penthouse,” Violet said. “We can use it to cut the bars.”

Just then, they heard footsteps coming up the stairs- just one pair. Was it Olaf, coming to get them? Sunny went over to Klaus, hiding behind his legs- though if she had been standing closer to Violet, she’d have hid behind her instead.

“Olaf can’t know we’ve found them,” Violet said, pulling her ribbon out of her hair and pressing the button to close the elevator doors.

Sunny was a little relieved when she poked her head round Klaus’s leg to see that it was only Esmé who had come back to the apartment. Esmé may be annoying and selfish and quite mean, but at least she wasn’t as mean as Olaf. But, wait, where was Jerome, then?

“Jerome!” Violet exclaimed, which was when Sunny noticed that the large black thing Esmé had slung over her shoulder was indeed her husband. Sacchario carried Charlotte by the scruff of her neck, which didn’t look very pleasant for either of them.

“What happened to him?” Klaus asked.

Indeed, Jerome wasn’t really moving, and neither was Charlotte. Maybe Jerome had just fallen asleep- Sunny could understand that, she’d fallen asleep at dinner a couple of times during meals at Prufrock. Maybe Jerome also ran a lot of laps in his free time?

“Nothing to worry about, darlings,” Esmé said, laying Jerome down on the same sofa she’d grumbled about him lying on earlier. “He just collapsed in the middle of dinner, that’s all.”

“Collapsed?” Violet exclaimed.

“Yes, he just fell sound asleep,” she replied. She calmly tossed her black cloak over Jerome, and turned to the three of them. “You should be asleep too, it’s whatever time it is.”

“Is Gunther here?” Klaus asked.

“Who?” Esmé asked, looking genuinely confused. “Oh, no, no.” She looked around the apartment, and Sunny hoped she wouldn't think to go into the place where they’d collected their inventing materials from.

“Do you smell something?” Sacchario asked, setting Charlotte down on the floor and flapping his wings. “Like… a school librarian sort of smell?”

“Miss Caliban,” Oliver whispered. “Beth was right.”

“Who?” Sunny whispered back.

Both Violet and Klaus had gone over to Jerome, taking care not to step on Charlotte. Nobody was paying either Sunny or Oliver any attention, so this seemed like an opportunity to talk about what Oliver had done earlier, at the restaurant.

“The waiter’s dæmon,” he explained. “She said two people were going to help us, a man and a lady.”

“How Caliban?” she asked, which meant, How do you know the lady was Miss Caliban?

“Makes sense,” he replied.

He was right- Mr. Poe had mentioned something about a librarian, and Miss Caliban was the only proper librarian they’d met recently. She was also one of the few people at Prufrock who had actually liked Sunny, her siblings and the Quagmires. But that couldn't have been enough, otherwise she and her friend would've found the elevator shaft too, and surely Duncan and Isadora would've mentioned that?

“Jerome, wake up!” Violet said, gently shaking their guardian’s shoulder.

“Oh, let him rest,” Esmé said. “Sleep is perfectly natural, like cosmetics or frivolous lawsuits.”

“It’s just, we need to tell him something important,” Klaus said.

“You can tell me, I’m important,” Esmé replied, then paused. “And you’re important to me,” she added. “I know I seem like an insanely powerful woman who spends too much time at work and too much money on earrings. But I'm also your guardian- you can tell me anything.”

I’ll believe that when I see it, Sunny thought, thinking about how even their nicest guardians hadn’t been good for much in the end.

“Well, you might not believe us,” Klaus said.

“Try me.”

So, they did- they sat Esmé down, and started to explain everything they knew to her.

“First things first,” Violet began. “Gunther is Olaf in disguise, his boots are hiding his tattoo and his sunglasses hide his eyebrow.”

“He’s hidden the Quagmires in a cage at the bottom of the elevator,” Klaus continued. “Except, there’s no elevator behind those doors, it’s ersatz.”

“Gesundheit,” Esmé replied. “Go on.”

“He plans to sneak them out of town at the In Auction, by hiding them in one of the items,” Violet went on.

“End,” Sunny concluded, by which she meant, And also… oh, we’ve sorta come to the end now, haven’t we?

“This is the least in thing I have ever heard,” Esmé replied. “This is a complicated plot- I’m surprised children like yourselves figured it out. Your bravery and smarts are remarkable.” She stood up, lifting the cover off something that turned out to be a fridge, filled with green bottles. “I need a drink,” she said, pulling out four green bottles and passing them out. “Parsley soda- the Daily Punctilio says it's the innest thing since aqueous martinis. You should all try it.”

“No, thank…” Klaus began.

“Try it,” she insisted. One by one, the children popped the lids off the bottles and took a sip.

“What do you think?” Esmé asked. Sunny thought she wanted a word with whoever decided parsley was a good soda flavour.

“It tastes like parsley,” Klaus said, setting his bottle on the nearby table.

“Isn't it remarkable? I taste the same thing,” Esmé replied, taking another sip of the icky drink.

“Mrs Squalor,” Violet began.

“Esmé,” Esmé corrected. “I know what you’re going to say- there isn’t time to drink savoury beverages, we must end this terrible scheme. Don’t worry, we will have Gunther arrested, and the Quagmires set free. Put down your drinks, quickly, there’s no time to waste, we’ve got to tell the police as quickly as possible.”

She ushered them out of the apartment, one arm around Violet, the other around Klaus. Sunny let Violet pick her up, in anticipation of the long climb back down the stairs. Something didn’t feel right, though, but she wasn’t sure what.

“Luckily, the nearest police station isn’t far away- it’s just too bad we’ve got to take all those stairs again. We could slide down the banister, I suppose, which would be quicker, though less dignified.” She turned Violet and Klaus to face her, and reached for something the children couldn't see. “I know!” she exclaimed. “We’ll take the elevator!”

And then she gave them a hard shove, sending them tumbling down into the darkness below.

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten: In Which Sunny Does The Scary Thing First

Violet

Violet didn’t know how long they had been falling. She was still holding Sunny, and as they fell, Violet clutched her little sister to her as tightly as she could. Prospero buried himself as deeply as he could in her pocket, and Lizzie and Oliver glided down in bird forms- Lizzie her usual owl, Oliver his sparrow form.

Finally, they landed in a large net. Violet rolled over, letting Sunny crawl out from under her, and reached into her pocket for Prospero, holding him close.

“We’re okay,” Klaus said after a beat. “We’re okay, see, we landed in a net!”

“We’re not okay, Klaus,” Violet countered. “We’re not half okay, we’re not even 1/27th okay. Our friends are still in trouble, and now our guardian has thrown us down an elevator shaft!”

“But we’re alive,” Lizzie pointed out, tilting her head to one side.

“You are alive, Baudelaires, but you are definitely not okay!” called an all too familiar voice from the door of the elevator. Violet looked up, and saw a tall, pale figure that could only be Esmé. “You and the Quagmires are going to be smuggled out of town, and I can guarantee that you orphans will never be okay again!” She paused for a moment, before continuing. “What a wonderful and profitable day! Count Olaf, my former acting coach, will finally get his hands on not one, but two enormous fortunes!”

“Your former acting coach?!” Violet cried. “You mean you knew Gunther's true identity this entire time?”

“Course I did- I’m an actor! I was acting!” Esmé replied. “I just had to fool you three and my dim-witted husband into thinking that he was really an auctioneer!”

“You are our guardian, you’re supposed to be keeping us safe, not throw us down elevator shafts, work with villains and try to steal our fortune!” Violet shouted back. Esmé just laughed at that.

“But I want to steal from you!” she cried. “I want to steal from you the way Beatrice stole from me!”

“What did you say?” Klaus replied, but Esmé didn’t answer him- she just walked away, leaving them alone on the net. “Great, now what do we do?”

Violet rolled over so that her stomach was on the net, and peered through one of the gaps. It was hard to know how far from the bottom of the shaft they were, or if their friends were still down there in the cage.

“I think we should try to get down there somehow, make sure they haven’t been taken away,” she suggested.

“What if they already have been taken away?” Klaus asked. “What if… what if Olaf took them when he set up this net?”

“We won’t know unless we go down,” Violet replied. “We could use this net as a climbing rope.”

“It might not be long enough, or strong enough,” Klaus pointed out.

“Well, if we can’t go down, can we go up?”

“The piping is too small to grip,” Klaus replied, pointing the spyglass’s torch beam towards the piping in question. “Unless you had…”

“Very small hands,” Violet finished, realising that she couldn't see Sunny anywhere. She looked up, gasping when she saw that her baby sister had already started climbing. “Sunny, no!”

“Sunny, it’s too dangerous!” Klaus cried, but Sunny just kept on going, not listening to either of them. “I can’t believe it,” he said eventually.

“That our baby sister is climbing up an elevator shaft all by herself?”

“I can’t believe any of it.”

Sunny

Sunny wasn’t sure how long she had been climbing for, or how much further she had to go. It was probably quite a long way, the door to the elevator did look pretty far away.

“I’m tired,” Oliver grumbled. He’d been flying beside her in his brown bird form for a while now. “My wings are sore.”

Sunny thought if that were the case, he should change forms, so that at least one of them could get a bit of rest. Just like that, he perched on her shoulder, changed into a squirrel and hopped down into her jacket pocket. It was funny how Oliver always seemed to know what she was thinking, what it was she wanted to say. Deep down, she knew that was because they were one and the same, but even so, she didn’t often think about the bond they had, she just took it for granted for the most part.

She kept going, but it was difficult- now that Oliver had admitted to being tired, that had reminded Sunny that she was tired too. She’d never done anything like this before, and she didn’t know how long she’d have to keep doing it.

“Violet could do it,” she reminded herself.

Normally, Sunny didn’t like to remember any part of her time dangling from Olaf’s tower, but she did remember Violet climbing up to try and rescue her- even if it hadn’t worked. In her pocket, Oliver shifted into a hedgehog, and Sunny tried to channel her big sister’s bravery as she carried on climbing.

After a while, Oliver poked his head out of her pocket.

“I wanna see how much further we have to go- I’m gonna fly up there, see how near we are to the top.”

Sunny nodded, and Oliver changed back into a bird again. He hadn’t gotten very far, though, when Sunny felt a painful tug in her chest. She was suddenly aware of just how much her arms hurt from pulling herself up the shaft, and it was difficult to breath. Come back! She thought. Come back, come back!

It felt like a very long time before Oliver finally landed on her shoulder and everything was okay again, but in reality it had been less than a minute.

“I didn’t think…” he whispered, shifting into a squirrel so he could better cuddle up against her neck. “I didn’t like that one bit.”

Me neither, Sunny thought, and finally resumed climbing.

Finally, they reached the top of the shaft. There was one more problem, though- the door was guarded by Olaf’s hook-handed henchman.

Sunny ducked behind one of the large potted plants in the hall, and tried to think about what they should do. If she could get into the apartment, there might be something Violet could use to make a rope, so they could escape too. But how could she do that with Olaf’s henchman in the way?

“Not that one,” Oliver whispered, and Sunny remembered something else about her time in Olaf’s captivity- this was the henchman who’d been in charge of guarding her, whose dæmon had bit Oliver, and who’d been rude to Violet.

Oliver shifted into a mouse, retreating back into her pocket. He was scared, and she couldn't blame him. I got out, though, she reminded herself. How did I… oh, yeah, the poker game. So the henchman may be rude and mean, but she had outsmarted him once, and she could do it again.

“No,” she whispered, taking Oliver from her pocket and setting him on her shoulder. “Mama.” She frowned, and tried that again, thinking of a clearer way to say it. “We have to be like Mama.”

Oliver shifted once again, this time into a bat, just like Mama’s dæmon. Of course, Sunny knew that she couldn't actually be like her Mama. Apart from anything else, Mama had been very tall, with black hair, while Sunny was very small, with yellow hair. She had been referring, instead, to Mama’s mantra, “Do the scary thing first, get scared later.” And so, she calmly walked out from behind the plant, and over to the hook-handed man.

“The management regrets it cannot allow any orphans to escape,” he said. His crocodile-dæmon, who was draped around his shoulders, raised her scaly head in what seemed to be mild confusion.

“Peffy,” Sunny replied, by which she meant, Someday, Olaf’s perfidy will end.

“What does perfidy mean?” the man asked.

“Tetch.” This meant something like, Treachery, basically. The man nodded, and leaned down slightly, so he was a little closer to Sunny’s level.

“You know, you’re clever, and you’re good with your teeth. If you play your cards right, you could join our troupe instead of surrendering your fortune and your life in more or less that order.”

Sunny nodded, then quickly ducked past him, through the partly open door and into the apartment.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the man snapped, but it was too late. Sunny folded the doormat in half and shoved it under the door, so he wouldn't be able to open it.

Looking around, Sunny was surprised to see that Olaf and Esmé were nowhere to be seen. Maybe they were in some other part of the apartment, discussing whatever wicked thing they planned to do next. Whatever they were doing, Sunny decided not to question it.

She had to move quickly, though, before the hook-handed man found his way into the apartment and put a stop to her plans. First, she walked over to the curtains, which had a long rope hanging from them. That probably wasn’t doing anything useful, she thought, as she started gnawing her way through it.

Taking the newly severed bit of rope, she threw it over her shoulder, the one Oliver wasn’t perched on, and looked around for anything else that might come in handy. She spied the shiny book Esmé had showed them and hid that inside her jacket. Klaus could do something with that- he was always using books to help them out. Maybe this could be her role now, getting the things her siblings needed to get them out of sticky situations.

Finally, she grabbed the feathery cloak from Jerome, who was still asleep, picked up a bottle of parsley soda from the fridge- it may be icky, but maybe it could be useful- and calmly walked to the door, removed the doormat and opened the door.

“You are in big trouble, young lady!” the hook-handed man declared, once she was out of the apartment. An idea hit her, and she passed him the bottle of soda. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Oh, she thought. She hadn’t considered that maybe the man wouldn't be able to open the bottle, that maybe you’d need fingers to do that. She took the bottle back, popped the lid off and offered it again.

“Thanks,” he said. “Oh, no, you’re not bribing your way out of this! How will I explain to the boss why you’re not in that elevator shaft?”

Sunny shrugged, and walked back over to the elevator door. Obviously, she’d get down the shaft the same way she had last time- though hopefully it wouldn't be as scary this time, since she’d know what was at the bottom. She opened her jacket, letting the book fall down first, then tossed down the rope, then, holding onto two corners of the cape with each hand, she jumped down into the shaft.

Klaus

To say that Klaus was surprised when the In Auction catalogue fell down the shaft and landed in between him and Violet was something of an understatement. That being said, he was more than a little relieved when the catalogue was joined by, of all things, a curtain tie-back, then by Sunny, who was using Esmé’s bat cloak as a parachute, and Oliver, who actually was in a bat form.

“Are you alright?” Violet asked, pulling their sister into a hug.

“Yeah,” Sunny replied. “Got supplies.”

“That’s great,” Klaus said, picking up the catalogue. “Now, let’s see if we can find where our friends might be.”

“Have we got time for that?” Violet asked.

“We should, if I go fast,” he replied.

Klaus started flipping through the pages of the catalogue, which showed all the items which would be available at the auction tomorrow. Most items he didn’t give more than a glance, since there was no way they could contain anything, never mind two kidnapped thirteen-year-olds. By the time he found something that looked like a possible option, he’d skipped past, among other things, a postage stamp, a small vase with flowers painted on it and a statue of a red fish.

“I think I found something,” he said, finally, showing his sisters Lot 49, which appeared to be a large cardboard box.

“V.F.D,” Violet said, reading the by now familiar letters which were scrawled on the box. “That’s what the Quagmires said it when they were kidnapped.”

“It must be important,” Klaus said. “My guess is that Olaf is using Lot 49 to smuggle them out of town.”

“What do you think V.F.D could stand for?” Violet asked.

“I wish I knew,” Klaus replied.

“Escape?” Sunny asked, by which she meant, Alright, now we’ve got this worked out, can we escape this net, please?

“Of course,” Violet said, tying up her hair and examining the curtain tie-back.

“The Devil’s Tongue knot?” Klaus asked.

“Always,” she replied, and got to work.

With Sunny’s help, a hole was made in the net, and with one end of the rope attached to the vent, they were able to use it to climb down to the bottom of the shaft. Once they reached the bottom, though, they quickly realised that something was very, very wrong. The cage was gone, and the Quagmires were nowhere to be seen.

“They’re gone!” Klaus exclaimed, sinking down to sit on the floor. “We left them alone, and we’ve lost them again!”

“We haven’t lost them yet,” Violet replied. She flashed the beam of the spyglass into the gloom ahead of them, revealing that the tiny room they were in was actually the entrance to a long, dark tunnel. “Let’s go.”

“We don’t know where that goes,” Klaus pointed out.

“But we know where he’s taking them,” Violet countered. “And this might be our best shot of getting there before it’s too late.”

“Fine then, let’s go,” Klaus said, getting to his feet and following his sisters into the passageway.

They walked for a while, in what was so far a straight line. Violet took the lead, and Klaus and Sunny followed close behind.

“Why is there a secret passageway here, do you think?” Klaus asked eventually. “More to the point, do you think Jerome knows?”

“I bet Esmé does,” Violet replied. “And I bet that’s why Count Olaf knows, too.”

“What do you think Esmé meant by-” Klaus began, but Violet cut him off.

“Look at that,” she said, directing the spyglass beam up to the roof of the tunnel.

There was a door in the roof, with that same strange eye that seemed to be everywhere. A ladder led up to the door, and Violet took a couple of steps up it before opening the door a little. A pile of ashes fell down through the gap, getting onto all three of the children. That wasn’t the worst of it, though- they could see something through the gap, a person’s foot, with an all too familiar tattoo on their ankle. Quickly, Violet closed the door.

“That was Olaf,” she said.

“Are you sure?” Klaus asked.

“You saw the tattoo, who else could it be?”

“Maybe the Quagmires are up there,” Klaus said, stepping up onto the ladder and inching the door open slightly.

The coast seemed to be clear now, and he pushed the door open all the way. There was nobody up there- in fact, it was hard to tell what exactly was up there. Klaus climbed up the ladder and out of the passageway, and a few seconds later, his sisters joined him.

They were standing in the middle of a large room- or rather, the burnt remains of one. A broken grand piano stood in one corner, they could see a window seat that had once been covered in cushions… and there were a dozen other little things that pointed to only one thing.

“This… it’s our home,” Violet said. “Why would there be a secret tunnel from an elevator shaft at 667 Dark Avenue… to our home?”

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven: In Which The In Auction Goes Ahead

Violet

“Neam?” Sunny asked, looking around the burnt room, by which she meant something like, What does this mean?

Violet wished she could answer her little sister’s question. But the truth was, she had no idea how there could possibly be a secret tunnel between their old home and the elevator shaft of 667 Dark Avenue. How many people had known about this tunnel? Had the Squalors known? Had their parents known?

“Our parents couldn't have known about this,” Klaus said, finally. “Right?”

“Tick tock,” Sunny observed, pointing to the remains of the grandfather clock, which had just struck the hour.

“Sunny’s right,” Violet said, wishing they could stay longer. “We’d better hurry- the auction has already started.”

Quickly, they made their way out of the house and onto the street, just as a familiar, mint-green car pulled up beside them.

“Baudelaires?” Mr. Poe asked, poking his head out of the car window. “What are you three doing here, and why are you so dusty?”

Violet decided not to dignify that with a response just now, and climbed into the back of the car, holding the door open for her brother and carrying Sunny.

“There’s no time to explain, you need to give us a ride,” she said.

“I can’t possibly give you a ride,” Mr. Poe replied. “I’m running late to the In Auction!”

“That’s where we need to go,” Klaus explained.

“I don’t know, dear,” Mrs. Poe said from her seat beside her husband. “It says here that the auction is invitation only!”

“Oh no, it’s a charitable function, so let’s be charitable,” Poe replied. “I’ll try to get you in as my guests.”

Klaus

The doors of Veblen Hall were famous- it had once won the prestigious annual Door Prize. But when the Baudelaires and the Poes approached it, those famous doors were thrown wide open, and it was a little hard to see what it was about the door that had made it so famous from this angle.

As they approached the hall, Klaus wasn’t sure what would await them inside- he just hoped that whatever it was, it would lead to Duncan and Isadora being rescued.

“We need to bid on an item,” he told Mr. Poe.

“Oh, I don’t think so, Klaus- I’m glad you're showing interest in activities of the upper-middle class, but I can't condone spending large sums of money on frivolous items.”

“Look, dear, a wooden spoon with googly eyes!” Mrs. Poe said, pointing to a page in the catalogue.

“We'll bid high!” Mr. Poe replied, and the two of them entered the hall.

Klaus and his sisters stepped forward to follow them, but they were stopped in their tracks by Olaf’s bald henchman.

“Hold it, you’re not on the list!” he snapped, glaring down at the children.

“Count Olaf wants us captured, right?” Violet said, glaring right back. “If you let us in, that’s like capturing us.”

“I need to think about this,” he replied.

The children took that opportunity to duck past him and walked into the auction hall. Olaf stood on the stage behind a dark grey lectern, Esmé standing just behind him. A large red fish statue was in the middle of the stage, with one of the white-faced women standing at either end, and three large posters hung at the back of the stage- one with Olaf’s face on it, one with Esmé’s face, and one with the words “In Auction.”

“I hear eight and a half,” Olaf called, as the children slid into seats beside the Poes. “Eight and a half from Mr. Fellini!”

“I’d like to bid on that red herring for Herring Houdini, where I work,” a voice from the other side of the room spoke up.

Klaus turned in the direction of the voice, and was a little surprised to see that the speaker appeared to be Olaf’s dark-haired henchperson. They were wearing a large hat, so it was a little hard to tell, but their small nuthatch-dæmon was unmistakeable. What was going on there? he wondered.

“Sold! To restaurant person for unknown amount to be paid later!” Olaf replied. “Next item is Lot 48. A vase adorned with flower things. Very fragile, very in.”

“I bid 20!” one of the audience members shouted. Olaf tossed the vase over to them, which they only just managed to catch.

Violet

“We proceed as normal, please, to the crying of Lot 49!” Olaf announced, once he’d sold the vase.

Violet allowed herself a small smile- they still had time to save their friends, it wasn’t too late.

“Lot 49,” she whispered. “That’s VFD- we’ve still got time.” She turned to Mr. Poe. “Can we use our fortune to bid on this item?”

“Your parents' will has no provision for public sales,” he replied.

“Can't you bid on it for us?” Klaus asked. “Our friends' lives depend on it.”

“You shouldn't use hyperbole, Klaus,” Mr. Poe replied. “But I suppose that I could make a modest bid- I did receive that promotion.” He looked down at the catalogue. “What in the world is VFD?”

“V.F.D, of course, needs no introduction, as is known all over the world in countries that are foreign and not so foreign,” Olaf began, gesturing to the large cardboard box that the white-faced women had wheeled onto the stage. “As you see, is prime specimen, this V.F.D. Very large with a few air holes poked in the top at the last minute. Ladies, please turn the box around on all sides so everyone can see all of the angles.” He paused to allow his henchwomen to turn the box a bit, before continuing. “What is first bid, please?”

“I bid twenty,” Poe began.

“Fifty!” someone else from the audience countered.

“Fifty-five!”

“We have a bid of 55 from unhelpful banker!” Olaf said, pointing his gavel in Mr. Poe’s direction.

“Sixty!” This one came from Mrs. Poe.

“You're bidding against me?” Mr. Poe asked.

“It'd look nice in the powder room,” she replied, with a shrug. The bidding kept going, until it reached ninety.

“Oh, goodness, this is getting expensive,” Mr.Poe said. “Are you sure you want it?”

“Please, Mr. Poe,” Violet pleaded.

“Very well, then. One hundred- and that's my final offer!”

For a moment, the hall was quiet. Then Olaf nodded in the direction of his henchperson, who raised their paddle.

“112,” they said.

“113,” Violet countered.

“119.”

“121.”

“120.”

“Darling, 120 is less than 121,” Esmé snapped, shaking her head.

“It is?” the henchperson asked.

“Yes!”

“Okay, sorry. I bid 200. What do I care? It's not my money.”

“I'm sorry, but I cannot let you bid any higher- I don't want to spoil you.” Mr. Poe said, turning to the Baudelaires.

“Let someone else have a turn,” Mrs. Poe added.

“I have bid of 200, please, from someone who will be yelled at later. Pack it up and take it away, please!” Olaf declared.

“Not so fast!” declared a familiar voice from the back of the room. Violet turned, allowing another smile when she saw that it was Jerome. “Sorry I’m late, everyone, I simply could not get off the sofa- it must have been something I ate!” He looked pointedly in Esmé’s direction. “I am Jerome Squalor, and I am proudly a legal guardian of Violet, Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire. In the short time they have been under my care, I have been impressed with their intelligence, their fortitude and their charm. At least in the hours while I was awake. They're noble children, like their parents. Therefore, if they're interested in a cardboard box with air holes in it, I'm going to make sure they get it!” He paused for dramatic effect. “204!”

“Jerome, love of my life, don’t be an idiot, you don’t know what is going on,” Esmé said. “205!”

“Esmé, love of my life, I am tired of being treated this way!” Jerome replied. “206!”

“Well, maybe I’m tired of you!” Esmé snapped. “207!”

“Maybe I’m tired of both of you!” one of the audience members cried. “208!”

The bidding kept escalating from there, the adults going back and forth calling out numbers and arguing. Violet was about to just run up to the stage and grab the stupid box, when Sunny climbed up onto her chair and said something that made everyone shut up.

Sunny

So this was an auction, Sunny thought, looking around the hall. She was decidedly unimpressed- it was just grown-ups shouting numbers at each other.

It seemed that whoever could say the biggest number would get to keep whatever the item was- so if they wanted to get the V.F.D box and rescue their friends, Sunny or her siblings would have to say the biggest number they could think of, and as Sunny stood up on her chair, she decided to do exactly that.

“Mille!” she cried.

“What did she say?” asked the grown-ups, turning to look at her.

“She said one thousand!” Violet replied.

Sunny sat down, hoping that this was a big enough number. It certainly seemed like a big number, and everyone else seemed to think so too.

“Where did Sunny get that kind of money?” Jerome asked.

“She was a receptionist in boarding school, but I had no idea her salary was that high,” Mr. Poe replied.

“The bid is one thousand, please,” Olaf declared. “Let the little baby give the big money to the pretty lady, and the auction is over.”

Wait- you had to actually pay for the stuff in auctions? It wasn’t just about saying the biggest number? Sunny barely understood what money was, never mind how she was meant to get one thousand of it.

“We probably should’ve thought this through,” Oliver whispered, as Sunny climbed down from her chair and walked over to where her siblings were now standing on the stage.

They were trying to open the box now. Sunny sat on the edge of the stage, ready in case there was anything she could do to help out.

“You can’t open this box until you give me the money, that’s illegal!” Esmé pointed out.

“What’s illegal is auctioning off children!” Violet countered.

“Not everywhere,” Esmé replied.

"Soon the room will see that you’ve broken the law, and that our friends are in this box!” Klaus snapped.

Sunny stood up then, and bit into the box. Between her biting and her siblings’ tugging, the box finally burst open- although none of them were fully prepared for what they’d find on the inside.

Klaus

Doilies rained down on the stage. Klaus blinked, not quite believing what he was seeing- not quite sure he wanted to believe what he was seeing.

“Doilies?” he asked, staring incredulously at his surrounding.

“Of course!” Jerome exclaimed. “Very fancy doilies, what else could V.F.D stand for?” One of the doilies had landed on Charlotte’s head, and she seemed to have just accepted the fact it was there- she wasn’t trying to shake it off.

“Yes,” Olaf said. “What in the world, please, could V.F.D stand for, dusty orphans?”

“Someone put these children in a long black automobile, they’re dirty and their clothes are frayed,” Esmé added.

Klaus looked down, just in time to see that Sunny had managed to gnaw through the laces of one of Olaf’s black boots.

“So are his!” he pointed out, gesturing to the shoe, which was coming undone.

“Frayed?” Olaf countered. “I’m afraid not!”

Just then, he slipped on one of the many doilies that now littered the stage, and his boot flew off, exposing his foot to everyone.

“Here we go again,” Lizzie muttered, as they began the same routine they had by now grown used to. Olaf was exposed, now he’d try to talk his way out of it, and eventually he’d give up and run away, escaping before anyone could catch him.

“He has a tattoo of an eye on his ankle!” Jerome cried.

“He’s not Gunther!” Mr. Poe added. “He’s not a foreigner at all! Arrest this man at once!”

“Wait until the readers of the Daily Punctilio read about this!” Mrs. Poe chimed in, pulling her camera out of her handbag.

“Wait, wait, just calm down, everyone!” Esmé declared. “Don’t blame foreigners for your problems!”

“He’s not a foreigner!” Jerome protested. “He’s from the same country as we’re in right now!”

“Well, that’s no reason to arrest someone,” Sacchario countered, flapping his wings indignantly.

“He’s a horrible criminal, that’s reason enough!” Klaus snapped.

“Klaus is right! He's the subject of a citywide manhunt! He's a source of pain and suffering, not to mention hours of negotiations at Mulctuary Money Management.” Mr. Poe said.

“Wait!” Esmé spoke up. “Before you rush to judgment, there's something I need to share.” She paused, waiting until she had their attention, before continuing. “All my life, I've climbed the ladder of success armed only with ruthless ambition and a large inheritance. I've paid my dues for weeks to become the city's sixth most important financial advisor, to become this statuesque powerhouse that stands gorgeously before you. I had the whole world at my remarkably small feet. And yet…” she paused again, holding up a finger. “I had a feeling there was something missing. It wasn't until I opened my home to three orphans that I realized just exactly what it was.”

The audience seemed to be buying into her speech- there were a few “Awws,” and Klaus even saw one person wipe their eyes. And then she continued, and that went away.

“It was Count Olaf! He's a genius! He's a wonderful acting coach! He's back in my life after many lonely and successful years, helping me pursue single-minded, cold-hearted, perhaps slightly overzealous revenge- my boyfriend, Count Olaf. The handsomest, innest man in town.”

“How could you say something like that?” Jerome asked, Charlotte leaping up into his arms and glaring at Sacchario. “You’re my wife! And besides, ruthless kidnappers aren’t in!”

“How right you are!” Olaf replied, finally ditching his ridiculous accent. “We’re not in- we’re out! Out of the city, that is! Come on, Esmé!”

With that, he lifted up a trap door in the floor of the stage, and he and Esmé hopped into it, closing it behind them. Klaus ran over to it, trying to lift it up, but it wouldn’t budge. Even when Violet came over to help, it stayed firmly shut. Olaf must’ve jammed it shut somehow.

“Where did he go?” Poe asked. “We can’t let that despicable man escape for a sixth time!” It was too late, though- they were already gone.

“They still have our friends,” Violet said, as they walked off the stage and climbed down.

“But I was so sure the Quagmires would be in that box,” Klaus replied, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“I guess that wasn’t his plan,” Violet replied. “It was a red herring.”

The two older Baudelaires shared a look then, remembering the item that had been getting bid on when they’d first entered Veblen Hall.

“Red herring!” they said at the same time.

Violet picked up Sunny, and together, the three siblings ran out of the hall and onto the street outside. They were too late, though, yet again. Olaf’s long black car pulled away from the hall and tore down the street- this time with a large, red statue of a fish strapped to the roof.

Violet

“Duncan!” Klaus shouted, as Olaf’s car disappeared. “Duncan!”

It was too late, though, and all Violet could do was stare at the space where the car had been, fighting the same feeling of inadequacy she’d been fighting ever since their friends had been taken in the first place.

“Baudelaires!” Jerome called, and the children turned to face their guardian. “Baudelaires, it’s not safe for you to chase a dangerous villain- or her boyfriend.”

“We need to rescue our friends,” Violet replied.

“Let the authorities deal with that- it is a citywide manhunt, after all.”

“Olaf was here and the authorities didn’t notice!” Klaus pointed out. “And you didn’t recognise Olaf until it was too late, either.”

“But I’m awake now, from Esmé’s treachery and after a very long nap, and I'm still your guardian. And from now on, I promise you can forget all about Count Olaf.”

“We'll never forget about him,” Violet countered. “We'll never forget our friends, not until we rescue them.”

“And find the truth about the tunnel between your elevator and our house,” Klaus added.

“Look, you three are in far too much danger. I know that you’re worried about your friends, but let other people track down Count Olaf. Let me keep you safe.

“Nowhere is safe with Olaf at large,” Violet replied. “We’ll never be happy if our friends are in danger- we’re going to find them.”

“You can help us,” Klaus added.

“Benedict!” Sunny chipped in, which meant something like, Yeah- if you really want to look after us, why don’t you actually help us out?

“I wish I had your courage. Your mother always said I wasn't brave enough, and I guess she was right. She was also right about Esmé, who only married me for my underground tunnel. I wish you luck.” He rested a hand on Klaus’s shoulder. “I think you're going to need it.”

He walked away, then, Charlotte following at his heels- though she turned back one last time to look at the children, her tail waving a sad goodbye.

“Where did Mr. Squalor go?” Mr. Poe asked, emerging from the hall.

“It doesn’t matter,” Violet said. “I don’t think he wants to be our guardian any more.”

Nobody ever does, she thought, bitterly. And even when they do, they just end up dying anyway.

“Well, normally, that would be cause for alarm,” Mr. Poe replied. “However, we at Mulctuary Money Management are exploring numerous guardian options after an uptick in mysterious fires destroying people's homes. There's a town far, far from here offering to care for our orphaned clientele. A town with a name that I find both curious and somewhat familiar, VFD. What do you think?”

“Yes,” Violet said, before she could take too long to think about it.

They could not have two false alarm V.F.Ds in a row- this one had to mean something. Whether it would lead them to their friends, the mystery they had revealed while they were being taken away back in Prufrock, or both, it had to be worth a look. They’d go to V.F.D, and finally uncover its mystery. After all- it was extremely unlikely that they’d get two red herrings back to back, wasn’t it?

Chapter Text

Chapter Twelve: In Which The Baudelaires Arrive At V.F.D.

Klaus

The journey out into the Hinterlands had so far been unpleasant, uncomfortable, and interminably long.

“This car trip has been interminably long,” Mr. Poe remarked, because naturally he could be counted on to state the obvious. “Who knew the Hinterlands were so far away?”

“That’s why they’re called the Hinterlands,” Klaus snapped.

“Nobody likes a backseat driver, Klaus,” Poe said. “Now, let me know when that turn is coming up,” he added.

“Mineup,” Sunny grumbled, which meant something like, Make your mind up, will you?

Klaus sighed, and rested his forehead against the glass window of the car. They were heading out to the village known only as V.F.D, where they would hopefully find answers to the mystery that they’d been trying to solve since they’d left Prufrock Prep. More than that, though, Klaus was hoping that here, they would be able to get help with the decidedly more pressing concern of rescuing the Quagmire triplets, who’d been kidnapped by Count Olaf and his awful assistants just before they’d left the school.

At this point, it felt like the hope that they’d find the Quagmires was the only thing sustaining Klaus, and he wouldn't be surprised if his sisters felt the same way. They’d already lost their friends once before, at the In Auction at Veblen Hall, and if they failed again, Klaus didn’t know what he’d do.

“It takes a village to raise a child,” Poe remarked. “What a lovely, lovely aphorism. An aphorism is a phrase that can sound mysterious, but is in fact very wise.”

“We know what the word aphorism means,” Klaus grumbled.

“Then perhaps you'll know this one means the responsibility of raising young people belongs to every member of a community. That's exactly what's going to happen to you in the village of V.F.D. Instead of having one guardian, who could be murdered or end up in cahoots with a villain, you'll have hundreds of people caring for you. What could go wrong?”

Do you want me to go chronologically or alphabetically? Klaus thought, though he didn’t say that out loud. Instead, he said, “Everything’s already gone wrong! We’ve lost our friends twice now!”

“Yes, well…” Poe said, reaching for something in the glove compartment and passing it back. “Would you look at this brochure? It has pictures!”

“So just to be clear,” Violet said, taking the brochure but not opening it. “An entire village is going to be in charge of us? That’s a lot of people.”

“I imagine they’ll draw lots, like in that wonderful Shirley Jackson story.”

Sunny shot Klaus an inquiring look- she hadn’t understood the reference, and Klaus didn’t know if it was a good idea to explain it. She was already picking up enough bad ideas about how the world worked, a story as violent as The Lottery wasn’t going to help.

“You don’t wanna know,” he said.

“Normally, I prefer a more traditional family structure, but for some unknown reason, neither the individual guardian or the academic institution is working for you,” Poe went on.

“The reason isn’t unknown, the reason is Count Olaf. He follows us everywhere, and he’s the one who kidnapped the Quagmires.”

“Those poor twins.”

“They’re triplets,” Violet corrected.

“No, they’re twins, Violet- their brother's death changes their birth identity.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Klaus countered, shaking his head.

“Well, it hardly matters. Thanks to the constant coverage of my wife’s newspaper, I’m sure Count Omar will be captured in no time at all.”

“Olaf,” Klaus corrected.

“Yes, I meant to say Omar,” Poe replied. “Besides, I doubt he’d be able to find you all the way out here in the Hinterlands- it would take an interminably long time.”

Like that’s ever stopped him before, Klaus thought miserably.

Sunny

Finally, they reached V.F.D. It did not look like a very nice place- it was very grey, and even Sunny could see that it was a very small town. There were also a lot of large black birds everywhere, which was probably the least bad thing about the place, because they made her think of Shelley, Isadora's dæmon, and of Finch, Papa’s dæmon- although Finch had been smaller.

“What a charming fountain!” Poe said, looking up at a large grey bird statue in the middle of the town.

Sunny frowned- that didn’t look like any fountain she’d ever seen. Of course, she’d only ever seen one fountain, the one in the City she and her family had played in once, but even so.

“Don’t fountains typically have water?” Klaus asked.

“Typically, but this is a dry county- that means there’s no water.”

“Actually, it means there’s no alcohol,” Klaus explained.

“Tomato, to-mah-to,” Poe replied. “Now, you Baudelaires wait here while I go into town hall and finalize your paperwork. Then I’ll be leaving you. I have a long drive back to the city, and my wife and I have tickets to the theatre. Sunny, don't feed the pigeons.”

“Pidge?” Sunny asked, when he was gone, pointing at one of the birds.

“Those are crows,” Klaus explained. “Pigeons tend to be more colourful. Although I suppose some of them could be ravens. I’ve read three books about crows- they’re harmless. There is a word for a large number of crows, but I can’t think of it.”

“I’m sure it’ll come to you,” Violet replied. “Do you think we’re in the right place?”

“This town is called V.F.D- it has to be connected somehow.”

“We had the wrong V.F.D at Veblen Hall, we could have the wrong V.F.D here too.”

“I just hope Duncan and Isadora are here.”

“Me, too.”

“Me three,” Sunny said.

“Maybe we could ask somebody if they’ve seen them?” Klaus suggested.

“Who?” Sunny asked.

“The three of you had better head inside now,” Poe said, rejoining the children outside. “The Council of Elders will see you now.”

Was that why Sunny had to wear a dress today? To make a good impression on another bunch of boring grown-ups? It was a good thing she quite liked the dress, otherwise she would be very annoyed.

“The Council of Elders?” Klaus asked.

“Yes- they know everything there is to know about V.F.D. They’re as wise as… whatever that bird is, the one that’s known to very mysterious and wise.”

“We’d better go meet them, then,” Violet said, lifting Sunny up. “Thanks for the ride, Mr. Poe,” she added, then the three of them went into the town hall.

Violet

The inside of the Town Hall was unlike anything Violet had seen in real life. Ahead of them were several benches, arranged in rows with a wide aisle splitting them down the middle. At the other end of this aisle was a raised platform, and behind that, a long wooden desk, behind which sat three old people, two women and one man.

None of that was what struck Violet as unusual, though. What struck her as unusual was the people, particularly the three who sat behind the desk. It wasn’t their strange, old-fashioned clothes, or even the large hats the elders wore, each of which had a large black crow on top of them. It was the fact that every single person in the room had some form of bird for a dæmon. Violet frowned, and placed a protective hand over Prospero as she and her siblings made their way over to the raised platform.

“The Council of Elders calls this special town meeting to order,” one of the old women said. She, along with the other two people on the bench, had a crow-dæmon. “Hello, my dears, we’re pleased you made it.”

“Step onto the platform so that your Elders can get a good look at you!” the man added, and the children did just that.

“Hello, I’m Violet-” Violet began.

“Silence!” the man barked. “Rule number 902 states that no-one may talk while on the platform.”

“Baudelaires, we know your story well,” the second of the two women said. “The tragic death of your parents, the unfortunate loss of numerous guardians, how you have been pursued relentlessly by a wicked Count out to steal your fortune. Rest assured, though, because your troubles end here!”

“We recently made up a new rule to solve all your problems!” the man said. “Rule number 9,833 clearly states that no villains will be allowed within the city limits, so you’re safe at last.”

“I don’t think-” Violet began.

“Silence!” the first woman barked.

“Count Olaf is-” Klaus started to say.

“Silence!” the second woman barked.

“But-” Sunny tried.

“Silence! Even for babies!” the man snapped.

“Now, the next order of business,” the first woman said. “When children have guardians, guardians make them do chores.”

“We are all your guardians now, therefore it follows that you will be doing all of our chores,” the second woman said.

“For the entire village,” the first woman added. “So, are there any questions?”

“I beg your pardon, but-” Violet tried again.

“Silence! For the fourth and fifth time!” the first woman cut her off.

“How many times do we have to tell you about rule number 902, hmm?” the second woman asked.

“What we meant was, are there any questions from the town?” the first woman clarified. A woman in a pink bathrobe and bonnet, whose dæmon was a small goldfinch, raised her hand. “Mrs. Morrow?”

“Thank you,” Mrs. Morrow replied, standing up. “Now, I am all in favour of the It Takes A Village programme and someone else doing my chores- but these are the same children that were involved in that kidnapping scandal. I don’t want trouble like that in my town.”

“That wasn’t a question,” the first woman replied.

“It was more of a statement,” Mrs. Morrow countered, sitting back down.

“Me, me!” a man wearing plaid pants spoke up, his bluejay-dæmon making a similar call for attention. “I have a question- where are these children going to live? It may take a village to raise a child, but I don’t want noisy children cluttering up my home!” Everybody else seemed to share his opinion.

“Now, now, there is no need to fuss about such things- the children will live with our handyman, Hector! Isn’t that right, Hector?”

A man in rumpled overalls stood up, his dæmon a small brown duck. Both man and dæmon looked rather distressed, and the man stood for a few seconds attempting to form words, before promptly collapsing to the ground, his dæmon wincing and hiding her face in her wings.

“The Council of Elders takes Hector’s latest fainting spell to mean that he will feed and clothe the orphans, and teach them our rules, so they won’t do any more terrible things, like talking on the platform!” the old man snapped. “Isn’t that right, Hector?” Hector just groaned.

“The Council hears no objections from Hector,” the first woman said. “Now, the next item of business, a report from the chief of police.”

The doors the Baudelaires had entered through swung open to reveal a tall woman dressed in a blue polo shirt, blue skinny jeans and bright red boots, as well as a large blue motorcycle helmet which covered every part of her head except for her bright red lips and long, pale blonde braid. Her dæmon was a white goose, who somebody had apparently attempted to disguise as a swan by colouring part of his beak black.

“Is that…” Violet whispered, thinking of a certain treacherous woman she and her siblings had recently met, who’d had pale blonde hair and a goose-dæmon.

“Could be,” Klaus whispered back, “which would mean…”

“Ciao, hello, I’m here,” the woman said, in an undeniably fake accent. “Greetings, V.F.D, my name is Officer Sabrina Pepper Anastasia Marigold, but you may call me Officer Luciana, your new chief of police!”

“I have a question,” said the man in plaid pants who’d spoken earlier. “What happened to the old chief of police? I kind of liked that guy.”

“He has a sore throat- he accidentally swallowed a box of thumbtacks,” Officer Luciana replied.

“We didn’t hire a replacement,” the first woman said.

“The agency sent me,” Officer Luciana replied. “V.F.D, I bring you protection and style. Enjoy my fabulous officious outfit as I serve up piles and piles of justice!”

“Should we say something?” Klaus whispered.

“Silence!” snapped the second woman. “We can see your lips moving, Baudelaires- whispering is talking, and there’s no talking on the platform!”

“Unless you happen to be chief of police,” Officer Luciana replied.

“Unless you happen to be chief of police,” the Elders echoed.

“And as chief of police, I will make sure that rule-breakers are severely punished.”

“That sounds perfect,” the first woman said.

“You know, I am big fan of severe punishment- in fact, I will personally take care of people who break even the tiniest of rules.” She turned to look at the Baudelaires then, and pressed a button on the side of her visor. “Just in case you three thought about getting too comfortable,” she added, in a stage whisper, her voice free of its false accent. Then she smiled, and pressed the button again. “Now, off you go, good luck in your new home!”

Violet glared up at her, but still, she stepped off the platform, bringing Sunny with her. She wanted to get all three of them away from Esmé Squalor as soon as she could.

Klaus

On their way out of the hall, they collected Hector, who seemed much more sure-footed once they were outside.

“Sorry I fainted,” he said. “The Council of Elders are so scary, they make me woozy. I’m excited you’re staying here, though- I’ve never been a guardian before. Anything you need, you just let us know.”

His dæmon- who he introduced as Elphaba- lifted a wing to her head in a sort of salute, before flying up to perch on top of Hector’s wide-brimmed hat.

“Thanks,” Violet said. “We really need your help, actually- the new chief of police is the girlfriend of the man who kidnapped our friends.”

“I wouldn't be surprised if his awful accomplices were around here somewhere too,” Klaus added.

“Are you saying this to make my day even more scary?” Hector asked, starting to sway on his feet.

“Are you going to faint again?” Violet asked.

“No, I'm getting ready to run,” he replied. “We should all start running in a random direction and not stop until we’re miles away.”

“We can’t do that,” Klaus said. “The whole reason we came here was to find our friends, and now we have reason to believe they’re nearby.”

“The only clues we have are the letters V.F.D, but we have no clue what those could stand for,” Violet added.

“Village of Fowl Devotees,” Hector replied. “That’s what V.F.D stands for. Fowl means birds- it was named that because of the crows. Three hundred and six years ago, a group of explorers came here, and decided to stay after becoming fascinated by the crows’ unusual flight pattern. You see, they always fly uptown in the morning, downtown in the afternoon, and up to the Nevermore Tree in the evening.”

“That’s the word I was thinking of earlier,” Klaus realised. “A murder- that’s what you call a group of crows.”

“There’s not just a murder in this town,” Violet said. “There’s a secret, too- it’s connected with Olaf, and our missing friends.”

“I have no idea what either of you are saying right now, but you can explain it on the way to my house,” Hector said. “It’s a mile away as the crows fly.”

“You mean as the crow flies?” Klaus asked. “A phrase meaning the shortest distance between two points.”

“No, literally, I mean as the crows fly,” Hector replied, pointing up to the sky. “Look!”

Klaus and his sisters looked, as one of the largest crows flew over their heads. It was soon joined by another, and another, until eventually, all the crows were in the air, and it was as though a huge dark shadow had been lifted from the town. The birds flew in a large circle above their heads, and the sound of all their wings flapping was like a million pages being turned.

None of them spoke until the last of the crows had flown away and the sky was clear once again.

“Awesome!” Klaus exclaimed, finally. “That’s a word that means inspiring awe,” he added, noticing Hector’s blank look.

“It certainly does inspire awe,” he agreed. “Every evening it’s the same, but I never grow tired of it!” He held out his hand, and Klaus passed over the suitcase. “Now, come on, let’s go home- you can tell me your story on the way.”

“It’s a long story,” Klaus replied.

“That’s okay, it’s sort of a long walk.”

Sunny

Hector had not been joking when he said the walk was long. Sunny wasn’t even walking, but she knew that if she had been, she’d have gotten too tired to keep going ages ago. As they walked, Violet and Klaus took it in turns to tell their story. Sunny would’ve taken a turn too, but she didn’t think she had the right sort of words. She was getting a bit better at picking her words, but she wasn’t an expert or anything, and that seemed important right now.

By the time they were finished, they had reached a large white house, with an even larger dark tree next to it. Hector seemed very upset, which struck Sunny as weird- they’d just told them what their lives had been like without Mama and Papa. It sucked, but by this point, she was pretty much used to it. She was more worried about the Quagmires than anything else at the moment.

“I’m sorry I’m crying,” Hector said eventually. “But that was an incredibly sad story, and I bet you’re not even halfway done.”

“We won’t be done until we’ve rescued the Quagmires and gotten away from Olaf,” Violet replied.

“I wish there was some way I could help.”

“You could explain to the Council of Elders that Olaf must be somewhere in town?” Klaus suggested.

“I meant some way I could help that wouldn't be challenging or scary,” Hector replied.

“Club,” Sunny muttered, which meant something like, Wow, another one? He, Jerome and Charles should form a club.

“We could go with you?” Violet offered. “The Council knows you, I bet they’d believe you if you told them.”

“It doesn’t matter if they know you,” he countered. “They knew my ma, and they still didn’t believe her. That’s how I ended up living alone on the outskirts of town.”

“Why, what happened to your ma?” Violet asked. For a moment, Hector didn’t say anything, he just wobbled on his feet a bit. Finally, he stopped wobbling, and replied.

“It’s too painful, I can’t talk about it,” he said. “I’m sorry, I really would like to help, but this place has so many rules, I wouldn't know where to start. You have to keep a lot of secrets in this town. Here, let me show you.”

He led them over to another large building, hidden behind the house. Before opening the door, he pressed his eye against something in the door-frame, and then the door opened by itself.

Inside, there was another big wooden platform, but more interesting than that was what was on the platform. Sunny remembered the balloon basket they’d made back in 667 Dark Avenue, so they could get down the elevator shaft and find the Quagmires. This looked a bit like that, but much bigger, and way cooler. There were lots of big baskets, and each one had a green balloon attached to it.

“What do you think?” Hector asked. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

She? Sunny thought, confused. It’s a balloon basket, not a person! She started tugging on Violet’s sleeve with one hand, pointing to the floor with the other. Thankfully, Violet got the hint, and set her down. Sunny toddled over to the platform, hoping to get a closer look. Nope, it was definitely not a person, it was just a balloon basket.

“What is it?” Violet asked.

“It’s our ticket out of this town,” Hector replied. “I call it the self-sustaining hot air mobile home.”

“A self-sustaining hot air mobile home,” Klaus echoed. “Is that like a hot air balloon?”

“It’s the same idea, only each basket is its own room. It’s like an entire flying house- or it will be, once I run a few more tests on the engine.”

“Did you invent it?” Violet asked.

“Rule number 67 states that no citizen is allowed to use or build mechanical devices. The Council of Elders instructed me to destroy our inventing materials, but I brought them here, and I’ve been working on this device since. I’ve loaded the baskets with all the necessities.”

“Is that a library?” Klaus asked, pointing to one of the baskets, which Sunny guessed was full of books. It was hard to see from down here.

“Yeah- see, rule number 108 bans all books, except for a really boring one called The Littlest Elf, and of course, the V.F.D rule book. The Council told me to burn the rest, but I brought them here and hid them, so I have something to read while I’m in the air. Oh, and I’ve packed plenty of food!”

“Bite!” Sunny cheered. This was more like it- Violet had things to build, and Klaus had things to read, but those things weren’t very interesting, not to Sunny. Food, on the other hand, that was much more exciting, especially if it was hard food.

“What my sister means is, she loves crunchy foods that are fun to bite,” Violet explained. That wasn’t exactly what she’d meant, but it was close enough.

“Rule number 8,675 clearly states that citizens can’t use their mouths for recreation,” Hector replied.

“No fun!” Sunny exclaimed, folding her arms.

“Indeed,” Hector replied. “Though good thing for us, I also like crunchy foods, so I’ve got a basket full of Mexican turnips!”

“Yay!” she cheered, jumping up and down.

“You’re very brave to defy the Council of Elders,” Violet said.

“Only behind closed doors- when I’m in front of them, all I do is faint, which is why I have to leave this place. It’s too scary- plus, the fainting is hard on my lower back.” He looked up at the mobile home. “Maybe you could come with me? It’s big enough for four, or even six, and the engine is self-sustaining, so it should last a hundred years. Once we go up, we never have to come down. Imagine- more rules, no more V.F.D. We could live up in the air forever.”

“Forever?” Klaus asked.

“Don’t you want to escape your long, sad story?”

“It’s a marvellous invention,” Violet said. “Maybe… maybe when we’ve got our friends out of danger.”

“And when Olaf is behind bars,” Klaus added. “Who knows when that will happen?”

Duncan

Duncan had lost track of how long they’d been inside the fountain. All he knew was that it had grown dark outside, which suggested that it must’ve at least been several hours.

“I wish we had a bit of light in here,” he said, needing to talk about something, anything other than how they’d gotten into their current dire situation.

“Why, so you can carve something on the inside of this statue too?” Isadora asked.

“You’re not gonna let me forget that any time soon, are you?”

“Nope.” She was quiet for a long while, before she spoke again. “To be fair, Quigley would’ve given you way more grief.”

“And he’d probably not have much of a leg to stand on, since if it were him, he’d have come up with something way cheesier than a carving.”

Isadora let out a choked sob at that, and Duncan tried to put an arm around her as best he could in the cramped space.

“How did this become what our lives are?” she asked. “We’re thirteen, this isn’t fair.”

“I know, Iz,” he replied. “I know- which is why I think we’re gonna have to fix this ourselves now. We can’t wait for the authorities to work out where we are, and I don’t think we can even wait for our friends to figure everything out on time to help us.”

Together, they concocted a plan. It was fairly simple, but even so, there were still plenty of ways it could go wrong. In short, Isadora was going to write four couplets, hiding their location inside them. These poems would be sent out, in the hopes that their friends would find them, read them and work out where they were being held.

“How are we going to get these to the Baudelaires?” Isadora asked, after she’d finished the first of the poems.

“You saw all those crows- we’ll attach the poems to one of their legs, and it can carry it away,” Duncan replied.

“We don’t know what their flight patterns are like, though,” she pointed out. “Or where the Baudelaires are staying. Plus, what if we can’t get hold of one of the crows?”

“What do you suggest we do instead, then?”

“We use me to deliver them,” Shelley said. He was still in the form of a firefly, which he’d taken in an effort to give Isadora some semblance of light.

“Iz, you can’t,” Duncan said, staring in wide-eyed horror at his sister. “You don’t know how far he’d have to fly, how far apart you’d have to be. There has to be a better way.”

“I’m sure there is, but right now, we haven’t got time to think of one. We can’t afford to leave anything to chance, we have to make sure these get to the Baudelaires.” She sighed. “Look, I’ll send the poems two at a time, and it’ll be fine.”

She was right, as much as he hated to admit it. They were pretty much out of options, this was the best solution they had if they wanted to guarantee that the poems got to the Baudelaires.

Isadora finished her second poem, and rolled them up. Shelley took the two slips of paper and flew out of the gap where the statue’s beak was. Duncan put an arm around her again, really, really hoping that this would work.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirteen: In Which Doing Chores Is Not Useful

Violet

The next morning, the Baudelaires ate breakfast on the porch of Hector’s house. None of them had slept very well the previous night, too worried about where their friends were, what Olaf and Esmé were planning, and what, if anything, the three of them could do about it.

“It’s been a long time since anyone made us breakfast,” Klaus observed, and Violet realised with a small jolt that he was right- she couldn't remember the last time one of their guardians had made them breakfast. Maybe it had been Aunt Josephine, or Uncle Monty?

“Hector was right,” she said, not wanting to dwell too closely on her sad realisation. “Huevos rancheros taste delicious even in desperate circumstances."

“Yum!” Sunny added, approvingly, before grabbing another handful of food and eating it.

Violet sighed, and wiped her face when she was done. Her sister might be brave, and weirdly smart and perceptive for a baby, but she was still a baby, and still a long way off from learning proper table manners.

“They don’t make anything less desperate,” Klaus pointed out. “We have no idea where to find the Quagmires- it was hard enough searching a penthouse, now we have an entire village.”

“Well, we have to keep trying. It’s not as if a clue is just going to fall into our laps.”

Just then, a crow flew past the house, leaving something on the porch railing before it tore off in the direction of the village. Quickly, Violet stood up and went to investigate what it was. Two slips of paper had been left on the porch, two lines of poetry written onto each one.

“Check this out,” she said, bringing them back over to the table. “It’s poetry.”

“Not just poetry, couplets,” Klaus replied, taking the couplets and reading them out loud. “For sapphires, we are held in here/ Only you can end our fear. Until dawn comes, we cannot speak/ No words can come from this sad beak.”

“Izzy?” Sunny asked.

“It seems to be, yeah- it is her handwriting,” Violet replied.

“You look shocked- what did I miss?” Hector asked, coming out with three cups of tea.

“A message from our friends,” Klaus said. “There might be more than crows in Nevermore Tree.”

The morning migration must be starting already, since that one bird had already flown off to the town. Soon, they’d be able to see whether their friends were up there or not. Leaving Sunny on the porch, Violet and Klaus ran over to the tree.

“Isadora!” Violet cried. “Quagmires!”

“Duncan!” Klaus shouted. “Duncan, are you up there?”

There are many expressions to describe someone who’s going about something the wrong way- not all of them are appropriate for every situation, though. As the crows cleared out of the Nevermore Tree to embark on their morning migration, however, Violet was reminded of one such expression which described what she and Klaus were doing perfectly. The last of the crows flew off, and it was then that they both realised they had been barking up the wrong tree.

“There’s nothing up there,” Violet said, eventually. “Nothing, and nobody.”

“It’s only the usual morning migration,” Hector pointed out, leaning against the porch railing. “What were you expecting?”

“We weren’t really expecting anything,” Violet replied. “Just hoping.”

Sunny toddled over to where they were standing. She adjusted the small red cowboy hat they’d let her try wearing earlier, and pointed up at Klaus, who seemed deep in thought.

“Lightbulb,” she said, which meant something like, You’ve got an idea, haven’t you?

“I think the crows had something to do with getting the messages here- carrier pigeons are birds that carry messages, so maybe this is a similar idea. Maybe that’s what Isadora meant by No words can come from this sad beak- crows can’t talk, but they might be able to tell us where Isadora and Duncan are hidden. Every morning, the murder of crows flies into the village to roost- that means we can find them, we just need an excuse to search the town.”

Sunny

Before they could start making a plan, Hector came out of the house, carrying a bucket and a broom.

“Are you ready to do chores for the entire town?” he asked.

“No!” Sunny said. She didn’t want to do stupid chores, she wanted to find her friends! “No chores! Find Izzy!” She stomped her foot, which made her feel a little better, so she did it again. “Want Izzy!”

“I know, Sunshine, I know,” Klaus said, scooping her up. “We’re gonna find them, okay? We’re just getting two birds with one stone. We’ll look for the Quagmires, but we’ll also be cleaning up the town. Okay?”

“Okay,” she replied. She really didn’t want to do any chores, but maybe it would be okay if they found the Quagmires while they were at it.

“Will you children be okay doing all these chores?” Hector asked. “There’s quite a list here.”

“Ha’d knock lif,” Sunny replied, with a shrug, which meant something like, It’s okay, we’ve done stuff like this before.

“What my sister means is, this isn’t exactly our first rodeo,” Violet explained.

“We’ve never been to a rodeo,” Klaus replied, frowning.

“Not helping, Klaus,” Violet said.

The four of them made their way into town. When they got there, they were greeted by the same three nasty Elders they’d met yesterday. They were still wearing the same silly black bird hats, and none of them looked very happy. Hector took one look at the three of them and left, saying something about trimming hedges.

“There you are, children,” said the first Elder lady. “Someone has been making messes all over town. They TP’d our gas station, egged our church, and scared our poor donkey- now he’s in need of a bath.”

“We have no idea who made these messes,” the second lady added. “Although an eyewitness saw two white-faced women, a bald man, a man with hooks for hands and a person with dark hair near the scene.”

Of course they did, Sunny thought. So all of Olaf’s nasty assistants were here after all.

“We do know who’s going to clean them- you are,” said the first lady, handing a mop to Violet. Then they all walked off without another word.

“If we search for the Quagmires while we clean,” Violet said.

“Then doing chores is useful,” Klaus finished.

“Merryweather,” Sunny grumbled, which meant something like, True, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

Klaus

For the rest of the day, Klaus and his sisters kept telling themselves that doing their chores would be useful. As they cleaned up the messes that had been left in the night, scrubbed windows and polished doorknobs, they did not get any closer to finding their friends.

“We’re no closer to finding our friends,” he said, while they cleaned the fountain.

There was still one crow on the fountain, though it kept hopping about so it was never anywhere near where they were cleaning. Even if it hadn’t been doing that, though, Klaus knew, somehow, that he wouldn't have been able to touch the bird- it was an instinctive sort of thing.

“Maybe we could narrow our search,” Violet replied. “Olaf must be keeping them some place where no-one else would go.”

They finished with the statue and hopped back down to the ground. Klaus noticed the crow hopping over to rest on the statue’s beak, but before he could comment on it, one of the women from the Council came over.

“Seeing as you’re done washing the fountain, you can go straight to the Firehouse Saloon,” she said. “It’s been closed for years because of rule number 18, which prohibits the pouring and serving of sarsaparillas. No one ever goes inside, so it could use a good dusting.”

“We’ll get right to it,” Violet said, grabbing Sunny’s hand and leading them straight into the saloon.

The Firehouse Saloon was not quite as dusty as the Elders had suggested it was- someone must’ve been in here, and they must’ve been in here fairly recently. A fireman’s hose was on the floor, rolled up in a corner, as though someone had just finished using it but hadn’t had time to put it away properly. The lid of the piano was up, and there was a fake orange beard left on the counter.

More interesting than that, though, was something tall, red and familiar, which was propped up against one wall. It was the same red herring statue that Olaf had used to hide the Quagmires, and take them out of the City.

“Duncan!” Klaus said, going over to the statue and knocking on the wood.

“Isadora!” Violet added, joining him. “They’re not answering.” She examined the statue for a moment, before taking hold of one of the fins. “Grab that other fin and pull,” she instructed.

Together, they yanked the red herring statue apart. There was nothing in there. Klaus stared at the hollow statue for a minute, not quite able to believe what he was seeing. Were they too late again? Where had their friends gone?

“It’s… it’s empty,” he said, eventually.

“There’s something scratched here,” Violet noted. “DQ + KB,” she read, gesturing to two pairs of initials which had been carved into the inside of the statue.

“Duncan must’ve been in here,” Klaus replied, deciding now would probably be a good time to give his glasses a clean, so he’d have an excuse not to look at either of his sisters.

“Ick!” Sunny remarked, which meant something like, Why do you guys have to be so sappy?

“It’ll make more sense when you’re older,” Violet replied.

“Falo!” Sunny said, which meant something like, It seems like everything is gonna make more sense when I’m older.

“So, we know the Quagmires are here, but where are they?” Klaus asked. “And why haven’t we seen Olaf?”

Just then, there were the sounds of a crowd running past the saloon. Quickly, they went to the entrance, and pushed open the swinging doors. Sure enough, it seemed as though the whole village were running in the direction of the town hall.

“What’s going on?” Violet asked.

“Count Olaf’s just been captured!” Mr. Lesko, the man in the plaid pants, shouted.

“What did he say?” Klaus asked.

“He said, Count Olaf’s been captured!” shouted Mrs. Morrow.

“Do you think it’s true?” Violet asked, turning to her siblings. “Could someone finally have captured Olaf?”

“It certainly seems like it,” Klaus replied. “Let’s go find out.”

They started walking towards the hall, and were soon joined by Hector. Elphaba waddled along beside him, and both looked decidedly anxious.

“I just heard the news,” he said. “Count Olaf, the notorious villain I first heard of yesterday, was captured at last in that very saloon!”

Klaus was reminded of the fireman’s hose in the saloon, the fake beard on the counter, the empty statue- had somebody really managed to capture Olaf in that dingy place?

“The Council of Elders have called a special meeting to discuss it,” Hector added, “which always makes me a bit jumpy.”

“Kanga,” Sunny remarked, which meant something like, Everything seems to make you jumpy, Hector, you’re a walking panic attack.

She wasn’t wrong. And as the Baudelaires entered the town hall and took their seats on one of the benches, Klaus hoped that the people who were declaring that Olaf had finally been captured were also not wrong.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fourteen- In Which Count Olaf Is Not Arrested

Sunny

Once they were all settled in their seats, one of the Elder ladies tapped the table with a small hammer. That looks like fun, Sunny thought. I wanna do that. The hammer made a loud banging noise, which just made it look more fun.

“Settle down, everyone, settle down! Now, I’m sure you all have many questions, we will answer all of them promptly.”

“Is it true?” asked one of the villagers, the lady in the pink hat. “Has that Count Omar really been captured?”

“It is true,” the Elder lady replied. “Olaf was hiding in the village in disguise- fortunately, a handsome stranger who claimed to be some kind of investigative agent arrived yesterday and captured him. We’ve got him handcuffed outside.”

“Count Olaf, that is, not the handsome stranger,” the Elder man said.

“He certainly is a tall drink of water,” the second Elder lady added.

“The handsome stranger, not Count Olaf,” the first lady said.

“His female associate is quite capable, too,” the man added.

“Will you tell him we’re very grateful?” Violet asked.

“You can tell him yourself, he’s right back there,” the second lady replied.

And then the doors swung open, and Sunny realised just how wrong they had all been to assume that their troubles were over.

Klaus

As soon as Klaus saw the “handsome stranger” who had supposedly caught Count Olaf, he knew that there had been a mistake- a serious, serious mistake.

“Greetings, all you cool cats!” the man said. He wore a purple jacket and large sunglasses, and he had changed his voice, but it was still unmistakeably Count Olaf. “I am the famous and…” he paused briefly, to, of all things, scat, “and cool, Detective Dupin!” More scatting and finger snapping.

Klaus couldn't believe this- well, he supposed that he could, given just how miserably rotten their luck was, but he didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t know whether he was more annoyed at the villagers and the Council for falling for this latest scheme, or himself for getting his hopes up that their trials could really be over.

“I found that utterly convincing!” declared the man from the Council of Elders.

“That’s Count Olaf!” Klaus exclaimed.

“I think your prescription is fuzzy, my little four-eyed kitten!” Olaf replied.

“I’ll show him a kitten,” Lizzie muttered. She shifted from an owl to a cat then, arching her back and hissing. She wouldn't be able to reach the scarlet salamander from here, of course, but it was better than nothing.

“You orphans are confused,” said the second woman from the Council. “That is the man who caught Count Olaf!”

“Officer Luciana, bring in the prisoner,” declared the first woman.

“Yeah, yeah, baby, let’s get this hootenanny a-hootin!” Olaf added, unhelpfully.

Even if Olaf had not already been in the room, Klaus would’ve known that the man Esmé was currently bringing in wasn’t him. The man was dressed like Olaf, his hair was styled the same, he had one long eyebrow and he even had a salamander for a dæmon. But he was not Count Olaf, and the differences were as obvious as the similarities. He didn’t look anything like Olaf- he was more stocky than skinny, his hair was dark, and his one eyebrow was much less bushy. Even his dæmon was a different colour- emerald green, instead of red.

“Move it, prisoner,” Esmé barked.

“I prefer to go by volunteer,” the man replied.

“I prefer to go by Angelina Louisa Contessa Francesca Banana Fanana Bo Besca, but you can call me Officer Luciana.”

“Dot,” Sunny remarked, which meant something like, Okay, that is definitely not what she said yesterday, she’s making this up as she goes.

“That’s not Count Olaf,” Violet protested.

“No talking on the platform,” the second Councilwoman replied, banging her gavel.

“We’re not on the platform!” Klaus snapped.

“Hector, control those orphans.” Hector responded by fainting.

“As citizens of this village, we should be able to speak,” Violet said. “That man isn’t Count Olaf, that man is!” She pointed to Olaf.

“And why should we believe three children over our chief of police?” the Councilman asked.

“Because none of you have ever met Count Olaf,” Klaus replied.

“That’s true,” Mrs Morrow piped up. “I’ve never met Count Olaf.”

“I read about him in the newspaper once, does that count?” Mr Lesko offered.

The man glanced around quickly, before leaning in to address Klaus and his sisters.

“Don’t worry, Baudelaires- I’ve been in worse scrapes than this one.”

“Silence!” barked the first Councilwoman. “We have all read about Count Olaf in the newspapers, and thus we all know what he looks like. We all know that Count Olaf has one long eyebrow, a salamander-dæmon and a tattoo of an eye on his left ankle. And as we can see, this man also has one long eyebrow, and his dæmon is also a salamander.”

“That doesn’t mean anything!” Violet pointed out. “Apart from anything else, Olaf’s dæmon is red, not green!”

“And how are we meant to know that?” Mrs Morrow replied. “The paper uses a black and white photograph.”

That’s not the only thing that’s being seen in black and white, Klaus thought. He frowned, thinking of something else.

“What about the tattoo? We don’t know if he has the tattoo.” If the man didn’t have a tattoo, that would surely be enough to at least cast a bit of doubt on the situation.

“That’s true,” the first Councilwoman conceded. “Sir, in the name of the law, would you please expose your left ankle to the crowd?”

The man frowned, but complied, placing his foot on the side of the railings which the Baudelaires were sitting directly in front of. There was a tattoo of an eye on his ankle, exactly the same as the one Olaf bore. Klaus looked first at the tattoo and then at the man, not quite able to process what he was seeing. The man glanced down at the three of them, and his dæmon tapped her nose with her long green tail, like they would explain everything once they got a moment.

“There you have it, folks!” Olaf said. “Now that Count Olaf is verifiability verified, let’s start groovin’ on how we’re gonna punish this bad cat! Who’s got suggestions?”

“No nuts on his ice cream sundaes!” Mr. Lesko offered.

“Psst, Baudelaires,” the man whispered. “My name is Jacques Snicket, and this is Marilla. We, along with our associate, trailed the Quagmires here, just like you did. Though obviously, we’ve suffered some setbacks.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Marilla muttered.

“V.F.D already has a strict system of punishment in place,” the Councilman said. “In accordance with rule number two, which deals with rule-breakers, Count Olaf is to be marched into the centre of town and issued a stiff but reasonable fine.”

“That’s the best you birds got?” Olaf asked.

“How do you know us?” Violet asked.

“How did Olaf capture you?” Klaus asked.

“To answer your question, Violet, your family and mine have always been rather close,” Jacques replied. “And to answer your question, Klaus, Olaf and I have what you might call a history.”

“Why do you have the same tattoo of an eye on your ankle?” Klaus asked.

“It’s not an eye,” Jacques replied. “Look closer, it’s actually three letters.”

Klaus did look closer, and once he saw what the tattoo really was, he felt a little silly for not realising sooner. The eye had always looked a bit stylised, but now he could see that it was indeed made up of three letters- a V, an F and a D.

“V.F.D,” Violet said.

“House arrest!” Mr. Lesko suggested. “And he has to wear one of those scratchy ankle things.”

“You’re getting warmer, fancy pants! Let’s make it hot!” Olaf said.

I really don’t like where this is going, Klaus thought, glancing between the increasingly hyped up villagers and their current target.

“Once I’m free, and the Quagmires are safe, we’ll take you-” Jacques started to say. Before he could finish, though, Esmé cut him off.

“I say we burn him at the stake!” she cried.

Jacques’ foot dropped down from the railing, landing back on the platform with a smack, but he didn’t otherwise respond.

“Oh, fantastic idea!” the Councilman said.

“Tremendous!” added the first Councilwoman.

“Ethically iffy, but very exciting!” added the second Councilwoman.

Jacques squared his shoulders and shot the Baudelaires another look. “Listen, I may need some help after all. Ever break a man out of prison?”

“How hard can it be?” Violet said.

“That’s the spirit,” Jacques replied. He didn’t seem afraid or even concerned, but Klaus saw Marilla curling into his shoulder, noticed the way his hand shook as he covered her with it.

“So, that’s settled then,” the first Councilwoman said. “Count Olaf will be burned at the stake tomorrow after breakfast.”

“I recommend steel-cut oatmeal for everyone,” the second Councilwoman added.

“Meeting adjourned!” the first woman said, banging her gavel again.

“Andiamo, prisoner!” Esmé said, leading Jacques from the room.

“Counting on you, volunteers!” he called, just before the door closed.

“What are we going to do?” Violet asked, looking at the closed door.

Violet

Their first order of business was to get back to Hector’s house. They woke their guardian up and headed back home. They’d missed the crows’ migration- though as they passed the fountain, Violet noticed one bird was still on it. She wondered if it was the same one that had been there earlier.

“It’s such a relief to be home, Baudelaires,” Hector said, once they were gathered in the barn. “Now we can leave- I mean, the Council are prepared to burn Count Olaf at the stake, and he only broke one rule. Imagine what they’d do if they discovered this barn.”

“We’re not leaving, and that’s not Count Olaf,” Klaus said.

“The real Count Olaf is disguised as Detective Dupin,” Violet explained. “He’s working with your chief of police, who’s really Esmé Squalor, and they’ve framed the man who’s looking for the Quagmires. You have to believe us!”

“Of course I believe you, that’s why we have to get out of this town- things are getting way too scary and complicated.”

“The Council of Elders are planning to burn Jacques Snicket at the stake- are you really going to let that happen?” Violet asked.

“Nobody likes the idea of an innocent man being burned alive,” Hector replied. “Well, hardly anyone,” he amended. “But if we don’t escape now, we could be next!”

Violet glanced at Klaus, and gave a small nod. She had an idea for how they could convince Hector to stick around for a bit longer, at least long enough to do everything they needed to do.

“But, Hector, you can’t leave,” she began. “You said you didn’t finish testing the engine- what if your engine conductivity is low?”

“Low engine conductivity is a leading cause in aircraft failure,” Klaus added.

“It has been making weird sputtery noises,” Hector replied.

“See? You don’t want to be in the air with a faulty engine, that wouldn't be very safe.” She walked over to the Self-Sustaining Hot Air Mobile Home, pulling her ribbon out of her pocket.

“Or self-sustaining,” Klaus added.

“Neither would be getting burned at the stake, but what choice do we have?” Hector asked.

“You could let my sister fix it,” Klaus replied. “If you’re willing to wait until we’re ready to go.”

“You’d do that for me?” he asked.

“If you’d do that for us,” Violet replied, kneeling down in front of the engine.

“What if you can’t fix it?” Hector asked.

“Oh, she can always fix it.”

Violet tied up her hair, and examined the engine. Quickly, she could see what the problem was, and how to fix it. She looked up at Hector.

“Here’s your conductivity problem- you need solid 12-gauge wires these are stranded fourteen. I’m going to need wire cutters, banana plugs and a small oiling can.”

“Will these work?” Hector asked, handing her the tools.

Violet nodded, and got to work. First, she used the oil can to loosen one of the joints that had gotten stuck, then she got to work cutting the relevant wires. Finally, she flipped the switch. The wheels started to turn, but quickly stopped with a small sputter. Violet groaned, and tried to think about what she could do now. Maybe it just needed a good kick to life, so to speak?

“I’ll also need your biggest wrench,” she said.

Hector handed it over, and Violet gave the engine a good whack with the wrench. Now the wheels were turning, and there was no sputtering to be heard. That was step one, now it was time for step two.

“Okay, now we need to help Jacques,” she said, getting to her feet and untying her hair. “I’m gonna need full access to your inventing materials.”

“And I’ll need blueprints of the uptown jail,” Klaus added.

“Full access to my inventing materials and the blueprints of the uptown jail? What are you planning, a jailbreak?” They just looked at him, waiting for him to connect the dots. “Oh, no. No, no, no.” And then he fainted, yet again.

Duncan

That night was a particularly dark one for Duncan and Isadora. Of course, just about every night that had passed since they’d left Prufrock had been dark, but this one was especially bad. That morning, Shelley had returned to the fountain, to the immense relief of them both, but particularly Isadora. There was a problem, though- he couldn’t get back inside the fountain, couldn’t change back into a firefly and slip back through the gap in the beak. He couldn’t change his shape at all, and he never would again.

So now they were still, in a way, separated for as long as Isadora and Duncan were stuck in this fountain- and who knew how long that would be? One thing that was clear, though, was that they couldn't wait around much longer to find out. They had to send the last two poems, and if Isadora wasn’t in a fit state to write them and send them, Duncan would have to do it.

“Iz, what were the other two poems gonna be?” he asked. Isadora frowned.

“Why do you- wait, you’re not gonna send them, are you?”

“One of us has to, and it’s not fair to ask you and Shelley to separate again. Tell me what the poems were gonna be, and I’ll do the rest, okay?”

Isadora was quiet for a moment, then she nodded, and recited the remaining two poems. Dorothy shifted into a firefly, providing Duncan with a bit of light so that he could write them out.

This is what happened with Shelley, he realised. Does that mean that, if I do this, you’ll stop being able to change too? Dorothy bobbed in the air slightly, like she was nodding. Duncan closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again. Okay then, he thought. Okay, I’m ready, let’s go.

He finished writing the poems and held onto them. When the morning came, he’d give them to Dorothy, and she’d take them to the Baudelaires- and maybe then their friends would be able to piece the clues together and get them out of here.

Klaus

Klaus and his sisters had been working all night on a plan to free Jacques from the Uptown Jail, and now they were making their way across town with the blueprints Klaus had studied and the invention Violet had built.

As they reached the jail, Klaus was tempted to say that he hoped they weren’t too late, but he didn’t want to jinx anything. Instead, he took another look at the blueprints, making sure they were in the right place.

“According to the blueprints, the weakest spot of the wall should be here,” he said. “Good luck,” he added, as Violet aimed her device and started to knock at the wall

However, she’d only hit the wall a couple of times when Mr. Lesko came running by, and shouted something that shocked all three Baudelaires- something that may well have been good news once, but now was the last thing they wanted to hear:

“Count Olaf’s been murdered!”

“What did you say?” Violet asked, just as Mrs. Morrow also ran past.

“He said, Count Olaf’s been murdered!”

Klaus looked from the running villagers to his sisters, figuring it was too much to hope for that they might have misheard, or that this time they had the actual Count Olaf.

“Shit,” Sunny said, and just this once, Klaus decided not to tell her off for it, since he was thinking the same thing.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fifteen: In Which The Baudelaires Are Fitted Up For Murder

Violet

Violet and her siblings didn’t speak to each other as they made their way into the town square. They could overhear others in the village gossiping about what had happened, though.

“I heard Count Olaf was murdered in his jail cell last night!” Mrs. Morrow said.

“That’s bad news, I was excited to burn him at the stake,” Mr. Lesko replied.

Two more villagers went past, carrying a stretcher between them. There was a man lying on the stretcher, but he wasn’t Olaf, he was Jacques Snicket.

“Let’s go, children,” Hector said, coming over to the Baudelaires and starting to steer them away. “This is nothing you want to see.”

“Not so fast, daddio!” Olaf replied, pushing Hector aside and standing in front of Violet and her siblings. “It’s just not cool to dismiss suspects at the scene of a crime,” he said, obnoxiously snapping his fingers as he said cool.

“Suspects? If anyone did this, it was you,” Klaus replied.

“It’s extra just not cool to disagree with Detective Dupin!”

“Your name isn’t Detective Dupin, it’s-” Violet started to say.

“Silence in the crowd!” barked one of the women in the Council of Elders. “Gather round! The Council of Elders has called this emergency town meeting to order!”

“There have been a lot of emergency meetings lately- I am falling way behind on my stories!” Mrs. Morrow remarked.

“It’s imperative that we discuss this most mysterious murder,” the Councilman said.

“I don’t think it’s imperative, I think it is absolutely necessary,” Esmé replied.

“Imperative means absolutely necessary, Esmé!” Klaus snapped.

“My name is not Esmé, it’s Amelia Rose Clara Donna,” Esmé replied.

“Is that what she said yesterday?” Mrs. Morrow asked.

“But as always, you call me Officer Luciana. Now, it’s my duty to lock up the prisoners in the Uptown Jail, and I made sure that Jacques was safe in his cell last night.”

“Who’s Jacques?” the first Councilwoman asked.

“It’s my nickname for Count Olaf,” Esmé replied, in a blatant attempt to cover her tracks. “I have the only key to the jail, so, his death is a mystery.”

“I do love a mystery, especially when it takes place in a cozy village and stars a detective with a funny voice!” Mrs. Morrow said.

“You’re right, mouldy oldies!” Olaf said, hopping up to stand on the fountain beside Esmé. There were now two black birds on the fountain- though one of them did not look like a crow or a raven. “Lucky for you cats, I’m a peachy detective with a face for TV, and I’ve already cracked this Popsicle case!”

Sunny

Well, this was not going very well at all. Sunny knew they shouldn't have bothered building something, they should’ve just hit the wall with a hammer until it broke, and from the looks of things, she’d been right. Now Mr Snicket was dead, and Olaf was going around making weird noises and clicking his fingers, decidedly not dead.

“This is exciting!” Mrs. Morrow said, her small bird-dæmon flapping his wings in agreement.

“This is horrible!” Klaus replied. “An innocent person is dead!”

“I’d hardly think Count Omar was innocent, with everything that was in the papers,” she countered.

Sunny was starting to wish they hadn’t stuck so much attention on Olaf’s eyebrow and tattoo now- not only had he managed to cover them up over and over, but now he’d found somebody else with those things, and made everybody think that person was him. It was a nasty trick, the nastiest one he’d played so far.

“Look, I know how this sounds, but that man is the real Count Olaf,” Klaus said, pointing at Olaf. “And we have reason to believe that police officer is Esmé Squalor.”

“They kidnapped the Quagmires and now they murdered Jacques Snicket!” Violet added.

“These kittens have flipped!” Olaf said. Did he ever get tired of doing silly voices and talking weird? It seemed like so much work. “I am a groovy man of the law, man- I wouldn't harm the hair on a shoofly!”

“Hastings,” Sunny remarked, which meant something like, You’re not groovy, you’re nasty and crooked and we’re gonna stop you!

“But reconnoiter this, villagers,” Olaf said, as if she hadn’t spoken. “The Baudelaires are pointing their bony little fingers at me because they are, in fact, 100%… the murderers!”

Oh, come on! Sunny thought. Okay, yes, the idea of killing Olaf had crossed her mind- that was normal when somebody was nasty to your siblings and friends, and killed your uncle and auntie, right? But it wasn’t like she’d ever do it, and neither would Violet or Klaus.

“The Baudelaires can’t be the murderers- they’re children!” one villager exclaimed.

“Detective, you must have evidence for this startling and handsome accusation,” Esmé said.

“Correcto, lady cop!” Olaf replied. “It’s just not cool to accuse people of murder without having any evidence- lucky for you, I’m a great detective, and I found some!”

“Hunt,” Sunny said, which meant something like, Yeah, I bet you did. She doubted that this evidence was going to be worth anything much.

“Orphans are dragsville, man,” Olaf began, starting to click his fingers to a tune his henchpeople were playing. Sunny hadn’t noticed them before, but she wasn’t very surprised to see them, either. “They come into your village, sneak into your jail, they kill and they pillage… With the help of these!” He reached over and plucked the blueprints Klaus had been carrying out of his hand, and waved them around a bit. “Blue bird, blue sky, blueberry pie, uh-uh, blueprints!” He unfolded the blueprints so everybody could see them. “Yeah, man, that’s what the Baudelaires used to find a weak space in the wall, so they could use…” he trailed off. “Whatever that thing is.”

“I think it’s some kind of mechanical device,” said the dark-haired henchperson, who’d wheeled Violet's invention out from behind the jail.

“Oh, yeah,” Olaf replied, back on track. “A device of mechanics so mean, the Baudelaires used that thing- they punched a hole in the wall of the jail, crept in on bad cat paws, and snuffed out the light of Count Olaf, um, in the night!” He made another bunch of weird noises. “Orphans!” he finished, finally.

“That’s very shocking!” the man from the Council said.

“He’s wrong!” Klaus snapped.

“So these blueprints and that mechanical device are not yours?” the man asked.

“They are, but we’re not murderers!” Violet replied.

“The spunky sister is right!” Olaf said. “These two aren’t murderers, they’re accomplices!” He paused. “That means you helped the murderer.”

“We know what accomplice means!” Klaus snapped.

I didn’t, Sunny thought. Where was this going? If he wasn’t blaming Violet or Klaus for the murder, then who was he blaming?

“What are you talking about?” Violet asked.

“Detective, talk to them about what you’re talking about,” Esmé said.

“I’m talking about the tooth marks found on Count Olaf’s body!” Olaf replied. “There’s only one person so uncool as to bite someone to death! The murderer of Count Olaf is none other than… Sunny Baudelaire!”

Chance would be a fine thing, Sunny thought. She didn’t think that would be a very helpful thing to say, though, even if she could make the words work well enough to actually say it.

“Our sister didn’t bite anyone to death!” Violet said. “Detective Dupin is lying!”

“Not yet,” Sunny said, which meant something like, Not yet I haven’t, but thanks for the idea!

“Instead of dropping accusations on cool detectives, maybe you orphans should tend to your own accusational woes!” Olaf said.

“Si, si, they should start by giving everyone an alpaca,” Esmé said.

“Yes! Wait, what?” Olaf asked. “You mean an alibi?”

“That is what I said, alibi.”

“Baudelaires, where were you last night between the hours of dusk and dawn?” one of the ladies from the Council asked.

“We were at Hector’s house, he can tell you that,” Klaus replied. “Hector, tell them you were with us.”

“Well, well… see… you see, I…” Hector started to say, already wobbling on his feet.

“Hector, please,” Violet said.

“Hector, we’re waiting!” the second Council lady said.

Finally, Hector stopped wobbling, and spoke up. “It’s true, the children were with me. They’re not murderers.”

“Where did these items come from, Hector?” the first lady asked. “Did you provide these children with illegal materials, in violation of VFD rules?”

“Hector didn’t do anything!” Violet protested.

“Trying to pull an innocent cat into your bad vibes?” Olaf asked. “That’s low, man, real low!”

“Baskin,” Sunny said, which meant, Okay, if he doesn’t stop calling people cats and kittens I’m actually gonna bite him to death.

“We’ve heard enough- the evidence is clear,” the Councilman said.

“We’ve adopted murderers!” exclaimed the second Council lady.

“VFD can no longer serve as guardians for such terrible orphans,” the first lady said. “Trial over, I say we burn them at the stake!”

“Yeah!” Olaf exclaimed. “Let’s burn them right now!”

“Hold on a moment- we can’t simply burn people at the stake whenever we want, we’re civilized people!” the first lady said.

“How about after supper?” the second lady suggested.“Yeah, that’s better,” the first lady said.

Sunny hugged Klaus’s legs. This wasn’t funny any more, it was horrible and scary, and they couldn't really burn them, could they? She wanted to cry- this wasn’t fair, this wasn’t fair, this wasn’t fair!

“I’ll keep these bloodthirsties on ice at the Uptown Jail,” Olaf said.

“We’re not going anywhere with you!” Klaus snapped.

“Resisting arrest are we?” Olaf asked. “Chiefie!"

“We can do this the quiet way,” Esmé hissed. “Or it can get very noisy.”

Klaus sighed, then he picked Sunny up and the three of them followed Olaf away to the jail. What are we going to do? she wondered, hoping desperately that her siblings would have an answer.

Klaus

Sunny had been crying on and off almost from the moment they got into their jail cell. Klaus wanted to comfort her, but he didn’t know what to say, what could possibly help in this situation. Even being trapped in the net had been a bit more hopeful than this- at least then the worst thing that could happen was that they’d be kidnapped. Finally, he thought of something.

“Do you remember Inky?” he asked, sitting beside her on the bench. She nodded. “Everybody thought he’d killed Uncle Monty, but he hadn’t. We knew he hadn’t, and we proved that, and he was able to escape. Just watch, we’ll get out of this, too, and prove that we’re innocent.”

“How?” she asked. Before Klaus could say anything, though, Olaf came up to the bars.

The cell really was just three solid walls and one wall of bars with a small gap where you were presumably meant to put food and drink for prisoners. The walls were plain, no wallpaper or even paint to liven them up a bit. Though depending on the wallpaper, that might just make everything worse. So long as it wasn’t yellow, he supposed.

“There’s joy in my eyes,” Olaf said, interrupting his thoughts. “Can you see it?”

“You’re wearing sunglasses,” Klaus snapped, not having the patience for whatever this was now.

“How about now?” Olaf asked, taking his sunglasses off. “Do I look like a man who’s about to become very rich?”

“You won’t become rich, your scheme will fail, like they always fail,” he countered, directing that last bit at Sunny as well as Olaf.

“Not this time- you see, a scheme is like a fire. Everything must be in order for it to work. You need matches, torches, an angry mob that won’t listen to reason, and the right sort of kindling. Orphans, for instance, tied to the wooden stake.”

“If you burn us, you’ll never get the fortune,” Violet pointed out.

“Oh, you never know- one orphan might just escape amid all the smoke and confusion. For the rest of you, though, your last meal.” He held up a tray with a large loaf of bread and a jug of water. “The chef has prepared some very stale bread and a cup of water served with what my Aunt Evelyn liked to call a handful of dust.”

He started trying to shove the tray through the small gap in the bars, awkwardly trying different angles before finally giving up and shoving the bread through on its own, then setting the cup down on the small ledge at the bottom of the gap, and dropping the tray as if for dramatic effect.

“Your last meal, Baudelaires,” he repeated. “All alone, in the deluxe cell of a jail.”

“What makes the cell deluxe?” Klaus asked.

“It comes with a noose,” Olaf replied. “There’s nobody to save you now, orphans. Nobody to comfort you. Why, I don’t think anyone will even stop by-”

“Is it visiting hours?” Hector asked, before he could finish.

“Who are you?” Olaf asked, turning to the Baudelaires’ guardian and slipping back into his Detective Dupin voice. “Oh, you’re that guy that faints all the time.”

“It’s not something I can control- I’ve tried all kinds of herbs,” he replied. “The police chief said I could come in and visit the children.”

“You know, if you faint at the sight of a birdy hat, I don’t know if I should be leaving you with these murdering cats.”

“You could stay with me if you want?” Hector suggested. “Should I tell that reporter you’re unavailable?”

“No, no, I’ll be right back,” Olaf said, walking away and leaving Hector alone with the children.

“I had to see you on my way out of town,” he said.

“You’re leaving?” Violet asked.

“The self-sustaining hot air mobile home is almost packed, and the best time to launch is cocktail hour. If you escape by then, you could float away with me.”

“That would take deus ex machina,” Klaus replied. Hector frowned, confused. “That’s a Latin term meaning god from the machine. In other words, something helpful happening when you least expect it.”

“Well, that’s not going to happen,” Violet said. “Seeing as we’re in a deluxe cell with bread and water, about to be burned at the stake for a crime we didn’t commit.”

“I know that you’re innocent, Baudelaires,” Hector replied. “I tried to help you the best I could, but the Council of Elders overpowered us, just as they overpowered my poor old ma.”

“You never told us what happened to her,” Violet said.

“She wore white after Yom Kippur, and the Council caught and punished her.”

“Did they burn her at the stake?” Klaus asked, thinking this might explain a few things about Hector’s anxieties.

“No, she was forced to pay a fine, then she moved to the city and opened up a successful art gallery. Now it’s time to do something difficult.”

“Jailbreak?” Sunny asked, meaning something like, Break out of this jail?

“Say goodbye,” Hector replied. “You’ve been dear friends, Baudelaires, and I’ve enjoyed our time together, even if that time was spent doing other people’s chores. Speaking of which, I found these when I was sweeping the feathers under the Nevermore Tree.” He passed two small slips of paper to Violet- more poems, maybe? “I hope to see you soon, Baudelaires. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” Violet said, and with that, their guardian was gone.

She passed the slips of paper to Klaus, and he unfolded them and took a look at them. Each one had a couplet, but there was something different about these- the handwriting wasn’t Isadora’s, it was Duncan’s.

“The first thing you read contains a clue/ An initial way to speak to you. Inside these letters, the eye will see/ Nearby are your friends and the VFD.”

“Izzy?” Sunny asked.

“Technically these ones look like they were written by Duncan, but it is in Isadora’s style,” he replied, and sighed. “This is all wrong! We were supposed to free Jacques and find the Quagmires. Now we’re in jail, Jacques is deaf and we’ll never save our friends!”

“Unless we break out,” Violet replied.

“How?” Sunny asked.

“We’ll think of something, okay? There’s always something- something I can use for an invention, something Klaus has read that could come in handy, just something we can work with.”

Klaus tried to think of something useful. He had read something about someone who went to prison, but… wait. It had been a year since he’d gotten that book- a twelfth birthday present from one of his old friends. And if that had been a year ago, that would make today…

“I just remembered something,” he said, finally.

“Will it help us escape?”

“No, no, it’s just… I remembered that today’s my birthday.”

“Oh, Klaus, I’m so sorry, we forgot all about it,” Violet said, sitting down on the bench beside him.

“I forgot, too,” he replied. “I was thinking of this book I read, about a boy that goes to prison and becomes a long-distance runner. I remembered that I got that book a year ago exactly.”

“I remember Mother and Father made that terrible bread pudding.”

“The worst we ever tasted. And they promised me that next year, I’d have the best birthday in the world. I don’t mean to sound spoiled, but I was really hoping for a better birthday than being imprisoned for murder and burned at the stake.”

Violet was quiet for a long moment, Sunny hugged Klaus’s arm and Klaus tried not to let this horrible situation get him down any more than it already had.

“This is a terrible birthday,” Violet said, finally. “But I think there’s a gift waiting for you.” She started to tie up her hair, looking from the noose to the bread on the floor.

“Stale bread, dusty water and an actual noose?”

“Deus ex machina,” she said, pulling her ribbon tight.

Chapter Text

Chapter Sixteen: In Which Klaus’s Birthday Gets Better

Klaus

Klaus took the first two poems from his pocket, and used some of the water to stick them to the wall in the order they’d been given. This may still be the worst birthday he could remember having- but Violet’s belief that they might be able to deus-ex-machina their way out of jail made him feel a little better, and like there may be some way to not only escape but free their friends as well.

Except, poetry wasn’t exactly his strong suit, and these ones were especially tricky to figure out. Poetry could be difficult to interpret even when you weren’t searching for a hidden message.

Violet picked up the loaf of bread and examined it. “This bread is so hard, I don’t even think Sunny could bite it,” she said, and slammed it against the wall, where it made a small crack in the plaster. “Perfect.”

She used the rope from the noose to rig up the bench, so it would hang from the wall, and set the bread at one end of the bench. Then she took hold of the ropes and swung the bench, slamming it against the wall.

“Happy birthday to you, hey!” she sang, hitting the wall with the bench on the “hey!”

She continued doing this, while Klaus kept examining the poems. The first thing you read contains a clue/ An initial way to speak to you… Wait- the first letters of each line were a lot larger and more prominent than the rest of the poems. Maybe…

“Baudelaires, you’re annoying the chief of police!” Olaf barked, presumably from the floor above them. “What’s that infernal singing and thwacking? Don’t make me come down there!”

“It’s Klaus’s birthday!” Violet replied, her voice bright and cheerful. “We’re celebrating!”

Klaus turned his attention back to the poems, his head tilting to one side as he thought. He remembered something else, something that made a bit more sense now that he was looking at all the poems in order. That strange raven on the fountain, the one he hadn’t felt able to go near yesterday. There had been another bird on the fountain this morning- and now Klaus was pretty sure he understood why.

Violet gave the wall another whack with her battering ram, then glanced over at him.

“Klaus, you’re smiling,” she observed. “You’re in jail, and you’re smiling.”

“I know where the Quagmires are,” he replied. “Look at the poems in order for a moment. Isadora obviously couldn’t tell us where she and Duncan were hidden directly, in case their messages were intercepted. So she hid her location in her poems, like Aunt Josephine did with that note.”

“Back birds,” Sunny pointed out. “On fountain.”

“Those aren’t just birds,” Klaus replied. “And the poems prove that. See, the third one starts with The first thing you read contains a clue, and I think that’s referring to the first letter of each line. F, O, U, N, T, A, I, N- Fountain.”

“As in, the Fowl Fountain,” Violet replied. “That’s brilliant. You’re brilliant.”

“No, Isadora’s the brilliant one,” he replied. “If I’m remembering things rightly, Fowl Fountain is right outside that very wall.”

“We’d better keep smashing that very wall, then,” Violet said, swinging the battering ram again.

Sunny

Now, Violet and Klaus were banging the wall with the bench, singing happy birthday as loud as they could to cover up the noises. Sunny would’ve liked to join in, but if biting wasn’t an option, then there wasn’t really anything she could do to help. Instead, she thought about the fact that it was Klaus’s birthday. Sunny had only had one of those so far, and she remembered something about cake, and Klaus had said something about presents, so she figured that those were important parts of the whole thing.

I wonder if I could make a cake, she thought. Maybe for the next birthday, whoever’s that was. Violet, maybe? And how many birthdays would Violet have had at that point? She and Klaus were fourteen and twelve, she knew that, but what numbers came after fourteen and twelve? Oh well, that wasn’t important. Food was much more important than silly numbers, anyway.

Finally, there was one last bang, one last shout, and the wall broke, like it should’ve done this morning. A big cloud of dust appeared where the wall used to be, and while it was not very pretty, Sunny thought it was one of the best things she’d ever seen.

“Your invention worked!” Klaus exclaimed.

“And so did your reading,” Violet replied.

“Here!” Sunny added, which meant, And I was also here!

“Right then,” Violet said, looking through the hole. “Let’s go rescue our friends!”

They crawled out of the hole, and made their way round to the fountain. Those two black birds were still there, sitting on the beak of the statue. Dorothy and Shelley, she realised, wondering which was which.

“Isadora and Duncan must be trapped inside the fountain,” Violet observed, lifting up Sunny and looking up at the statue. “Maybe there’s a hidden mechanism that opens a secret entrance?”

“There has to be a clue inside the poems,” Klaus replied. “There’s something that bothered me about them- why did she say This sad beak? That’s a weird choice of words, especially when Isadora doesn’t really go in for that kind of florid imagery.”

Sunny frowned, noticing the way that Dorothy and Shelley were tapping at the statue’s beak with their own beaks and feet.

“Lift me up,” she said, getting an idea.

Between them, Violet and Klaus held her up. She had one foot on each of their shoulders, and they held on tightly to her legs. Sunny grabbed hold of the beak, and gave it a hard tug. The beak slipped, and Sunny went with it- luckily, Violet was able to catch her, though, just in time to see the statue open at last.

Klaus

The statue’s head swung back, and the sides opened up, revealing the Quagmire triplets crammed inside. They looked awful- weak and tired, like they’d been carrying an inescapable pain around for the last several hours at least. But they were free now, they were gonna be okay.

Duncan and Isadora hopped down from the fountain, and the two black birds- a jackdaw and a raven, respectively- landed on each of their arms. Both siblings took a moment to run their free hands over their dæmons, from whom it seemed they’d been separated this whole time, Isadora especially.

“Duncan!” Klaus exclaimed, unable to keep his relief in any more.

“Isadora!” Violet added.

“Izzy!” Sunny cried. “Dunk!”

“You found the poems!” Isadora replied, running forward to hug Violet and Sunny. Duncan hugged Klaus, who’d be more than happy to not let go any time soon.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Much better now,” Duncan replied.

“How did you guys get here?” Violet asked. Isadora stepped back from her and Sunny, continuing to run her hands over Shelley’s black feathers.

“Olaf smuggled us out of the auction inside that red herring statue,” she explained.

“We found it in the saloon- that’s how we knew you were close,” Klaus replied. Duncan stepped back then, but didn’t let go of Klaus’s hand.

“You didn’t happen to see anything inside it, did you?” he asked.

“We didn’t have time to examine it too closely,” Klaus replied.

“Olaf hid us in the fountain so we’d be out of his way,” Isadora explained.

“It was Isadora’s idea to use the couplets as a code- though admittedly, I wrote the second set,” Duncan added.

“And it was my idea to deliver them,” Shelley continued.

“We weren’t sure what the crows’ flight patterns were, so it seemed easier at the time to use our dæmons instead,” Isadora explained. “Of course, we didn’t know that would lead to them settling,” she added, almost as an afterthought.

“Never mind that now, how did you know we were here?” Klaus asked.

“We overheard Olaf and Esmé mention it- and we overheard you guys in the town square yesterday, too.” Isadora replied.

“Even if we hadn’t, though, we knew you’d find us one way or another,” Duncan added. “It’s what friends are for.”

“Mob!” Sunny cried, which meant something like, Hey, look at that angry mob coming this way!

Violet lifted Sunny up again, and grabbed Isadora's hand. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

They took off running down the streets, away from the mob, who had taken up the chant of, “What do we want? To burn children! When do we want it? Now!”

Finally, Violet tugged them behind a row of buildings at the edge of the village, and they had a chance to catch their breaths. Lizzie shifted from an owl to a cat, and Oliver shifted from a sparrow to a squirrel, the former leaning against Klaus’s legs, the latter perching on Sunny’s shoulder.

“Where can we go now?” Duncan asked. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“We know a way out,” Violet replied. “A self-sustaining hot air mobile home. We just need to get to the town border, then we’ll be able to escape.”

“We’ll be safe forever, in the air,” Klaus added.

“Forever?” Duncan asked. “But, if we do that, we’ll never learn any more information about VFD- the real VFD, that is, not this vile village.”

“We know that Jacques was a part of it, and that the eye tattoo is a symbol of the organisation- that’s why he and Olaf both had it.”

“And we know that the firehouse was one of their headquarters. It sounds like they had a few of them, we wrote them-”

A camera flash cut him off, and he tucked his commonplace book back inside his blazer pocket.

“What are your thoughts on your daring escape?” It was Mrs. Poe- had they seriously swapped one Poe for another?

“Run,” Violet said, grabbing Isadora’s and Klaus’s hands and pulling them away.

Violet

They kept running along the row of buildings, finally coming to a stop beside the town store. The five of them hid beside the building, while the town continued baying for their blood. If they didn’t get out of here fast, they could all be on the pyre.

“We need a distraction,” Violet whispered. Sunny smiled, reached forward and grabbed a carrot from a nearby stall, passing it to Violet. “Good idea, Sunny,” she said, and threw the carrot as far as she could.

The donkey went trotting after it, distracting the crowd and giving Violet, her siblings and the Quagmires the perfect opportunity to run across to the fire station.

“We’re out of places to hide,” Klaus said, as they settled in between the station and the old fire truck.

Violet was about to reply when a motorbike came roaring into the town. It was parked next to the fountain, and a man with a small dog-dæmon hopped out of the sidecar, while a woman with a butterfly-dæmon climbed off the bike.

“Is that…” Violet began, not sure if she was seeing things.

“It’s Jacquelyn and Larry the Waiter,” Klaus concluded.

“Fends,” Sunny explained to Duncan and Isadora.

“Aren’t you Artie’s secretary?” Mrs Poe asked, studying Jacquelyn. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question!” Jacquelyn snapped. “All of you! Where’s your conscience? Your sense of decency? All of you should be thoroughly ashamed of yourself!”

“You city folks don’t belong here, so scat, man! This is village business!” Olaf replied.

“There’s no shame in being from the city,” Larry said. “Some village people come to live in cities, and vice versa. In fact, I’m seeing some familiar faces right now. How’s the book club going, Mrs. Morrow? My mothers were wondering.”

“We only read magazines now,” Mrs. Morrow replied. “I hate it.”

“This was a good town once, with good people who helped each other, who worked together. It could be that way again. Now, a noble man has been murdered, but we have an opportunity to make something of this tragedy. Look inside yourselves, and ask what it is that you really want!” Jacquelyn cried.

Everybody was quiet for a long time, before the second Councilwoman spoke up, and said, in a sweet voice, “To burn children!”

The crowd cheered, and the troupe blocked Jacquelyn and Larry’s path away from the fountain while the rest of the crowd started swarming towards the Baudelaires and the Quagmires. Now what were they meant to do?

Sunny

“How far to your friend’s hot air mobile home?” Isadora asked, as the mob got closer.

“It’s not a question of how far, it’s a question of how high,” Violet replied.

While they were discussing the situation, Sunny walked over to the big red truck. She had another idea, it was just a question of whether she could pull it off. She made her way round to the front of the truck, pulled open the door and climbed up onto the seat.

Someone had left a hat, a boot and a jacket on the other seat, so Sunny stuffed the jacket into the boot and set it on the pedal on the floor, wrapping one of the sleeves around her foot so it would stay in place, stuck the hat on her head and looked at the wheel. She’d seen people drive cars before- you just had to turn the wheel and push the pedal, right? And maybe pull this lever thingy- that was probably there for a reason.

“Hop on!” she shouted, and pushed the pedal, sending the truck crashing right through the fence.

“Your sister drives?” Duncan asked. Sunny took a quick glance over her shoulder, confirming that her siblings and friends were on the truck, and then looked back at the road in front of them.

“Apparently!” Violet replied. “Sunny, keep your eye on that balloon!”

“And the road!” Klaus added.

This was much easier than she’d thought it would be- she just had to keep going forward. Violet could smash walls, Klaus could solve poems, and Sunny could drive trucks- she wasn’t a useless baby, she was a toddler with her own skills and stuff she could do to help. From here on out, they could really be a team that worked together to solve problems.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seventeen: In Which There Are No Mourners And No Funerals

Duncan

They rode to the edge of the town, Sunny still driving the truck. It probably said a lot about what their lives had been like the last few weeks that a toddler driving a firetruck was not the strangest or the most troubling thing that Duncan had ever seen- anyway, so long as she kept going straight ahead, they’d probably be fine.

As Sunny drove, Duncan, Isadora and the older Baudelaires sat on the bed of the truck. None of them felt much like talking, though Duncan stuck close to Klaus, holding onto his hand. He had thought a fair bit about him during his time with Olaf, and maybe, now that they were all free and heading somewhere safe, there would finally be time to actually do something about the feelings he was pretty sure he had- or at least understand what exactly they were.

Finally, they reached the self-sustaining hot air mobile home- a collection of large baskets, kept afloat by several equally large green balloons.

“Hector!” Violet called. A man leaned out from one of the baskets. From here, all Duncan could see was that he wore what looked like a cowboy hat, and his dæmon was a brown bird of some sort.

“Baudelaires!” he replied. “I’m so glad you made it!”

“I hope you don’t mind that we brought extra passengers!”

“Not at all- the self-sustaining hot air mobile home needs several people to keep it running!”

The four of them stood up, and Violet pressed a button, activating the ladder attached to the fire truck. It reached quite far, and Hector dropped a rope ladder that would carry them the rest of the way up with minimal fuss.

“Right, you guys go up first,” Violet said.

“We’ll be right behind you,” Klaus added.

“See you on the other side,” Isadora replied, giving them a small salute, and started to climb.

Duncan turned to join her, finally letting go of Klaus’s hand. He wasn’t sure what made him pause- but if he had learned one decent lesson these last few weeks, it was that you never knew how many moments you had with someone, and you should make them count for something.

Before he started to climb the ladder, he turned to face Klaus one more time- not one last time, don’t think about it as any kind of last time, he thought to himself- and kissed him. He pulled away, blushing slightly.

“Um, I’m just gonna… ladder… yeah,” he stammered, and started to climb up the ladder.

They hadn’t been climbing for long when the villagers showed up, chanting about burning them.

“We can’t let them escape!” declared an old woman, wearing a black hat with a large crow on it, who seemed to be in charge- although it was a bit hard to tell.

“Otherwise we’ll have to find other orphans to do our chores!” added an old man, who was also wearing a crow hat.

“You should do your own chores!” Hector shouted, speaking through a large megaphone. “Or take turns according to a fair schedule. Look, the aphorism is, It takes a village to raise a child, not Three children should clean up after a village!”

“Is that Hector?” the old lady asked.

“He’s a traitor and a rule-breaker! Let’s burn him too!” the old man shouted.

“Birdland!” Olaf shouted, pushing his way to the front of the crowd. “Groove on this- I am deputising the whole kit and caboodle! Now let’s scoop up that red-hot jalopy and drag down those killers!”

Oh no, you won’t, Duncan thought. They were almost at the rope ladder- if they could just get onto that, and the Baudelaires could join them, then they’d be out of Olaf’s reach for good. Just a bit further, and everything would be okay.

Violet

Violet knew that they had to start climbing the fire truck’s ladder so they could get out of here- but they also had to find some way of keeping the crowd back, so they’d have a bit more time to get up to the mobile home. Quickly, she grabbed hold of the fire hose that was also on the truck. It wouldn’t work as an actual weapon, but this baying crowd didn’t need to know that.

“Stand back!” she cried. “I’ve got a hose!”

“That’s right! Klaus added. “So, if you want to stay dry, stay back. Although this truck is a 1956 International R190, it’s been retrofitted to the specs of a triple-pump La France, with eight hundred gallons of water on board, and anyone who’s read about fire trucks knows can be shot out at a rate of 1,600 pounds per square inch. Which is a lot of power.” He paused, and looked at Violet. “How was that?”

“Comprehensive,” she replied, smiling.

Her smile faded, however, as Esmé shoved her way to the front of the crowd, armed with a fully-loaded harpoon gun. Violet shot her gaze to her climbing friends. Isadora had just managed to grab onto the rope ladder, and was starting to climb it, Duncan close behind her.

“Open fire, officer!” Olaf commanded.

“Isadora!” she cried.

“Duncan!” Klaus cried.

“You’re gonna be just fine, just keep climbing!” Violet called, as Esmé shot her first harpoon, narrowly avoiding the rope ladder.

She took aim again, this time hitting one of the baskets. A stream of red liquid poured out- cranberry juice, by the look of it. By now, Isadora had almost reached the home, and Duncan wouldn’t be far behind her.

“They’re almost at the top,” Violet said, reaching through and plucking Sunny from the driver’s seat. “Take Sunny, and start climbing. I’ll hold off the mob for as long as I can.”

Klaus

Everything was happening way too fast. Klaus had barely had time to process the fact that Duncan had kissed him, before he was spouting fire engine facts in an attempt to keep the crowd away from them, and now Esmé was threatening to shoot the mobile home down, a threat that was getting more and more likely with each harpoon she let loose.

Klaus started to climb the engine’s ladder with Sunny in tow, just as Hector managed to pull Duncan and Isadora aboard, Shelley and Dorothy now perching on the mobile home’s railings along with Elphaba. Soon, all of them would be up there, and everything would be-

Just then, Esmé launched another harpoon, managing to pop one of the green balloons and causing the whole mobile home to rock.

“Hurry!” Hector cried. “The mobile home can’t take any more damage!”

“He’s right- if Esmé hits another balloon, it’ll crash, and the Quagmires will be in danger!” Violet said.

Klaus hated to admit it, but she was right. He wanted to keep climbing, but there was no guarantee they’d all make it up. Maybe he and Sunny could get up there- or maybe just Sunny, if he could hand her over- but not all three of them. It hurt, but it was the best they could do. Do the sad thing first, he thought, putting a small twist on Mother’s old mantra. Get sad later.

“Then we have to let them go,” he said, finally. “Hector, head higher!”

“But how will you reach us?” Duncan cried.

“We… we won’t!” he replied.

Hector raised the mobile home, creating a distance between the two ladders that it would be impossible to cover. It’s the right thing to do, he reminded himself. It’s the right thing to do.

“Hold your fire, we’re coming back down!” he shouted to the crowd, descending the ladder.

“What are you doing?” Isadora cried.

“What friends are for,” Klaus replied, reaching the bottom of the ladder.

Sunny was already starting to cry, and Klaus had to say to himself, again and again, Get sad later, otherwise he knew he would be doing the same.

Isadora

This wasn’t fair- one moment, it had really seemed like all five of them were going to get to escape, to be somewhere safe. Now, Isadora and Duncan were on the mobile home, heading further away from their friends below. They could still just about hear what was going on, but it was harder now than it had been when they’d been climbing.

Esmé aimed her gun again, and might have fired another harpoon, had Violet not called out something that, for some reason, turned the old people in crow hats against her.

“Stop shooting at them… With your mechanical device!”

“It is mechanical!” one of the old women noted. “Officer Luciana, you’ve broken rule number 67!”

God, Violet must’ve hated a rule like that, Isadora thought. A rule against a mechanical device/ Would strike my friend as far from nice. The couplet wandered into her mind as so many had before it, and she reached into her pocket for her commonplace book so she could note it down. Her commonplace book…

“Duncan, I know what we have to do,” she said, showing him her notebook and pointing down to their friends. Duncan nodded, and drew out his own dark green book.

“Baudelaires!” he called. “If we don’t see each other again, this is everything we learned about the real VFD! Everything you need is in these commonplace books!”

“About Olaf’s plans, about Jacques and his associates… You helped us, Baudelaires. Let us help you one more time,” Isadora added.

“No mourners,” Violet called, just as Isadora had before they’d last separated.

“No funerals,” Isadora replied, and tossed her book, Duncan’s following a beat later.

Sunny

Sunny was going to scream, she just knew it. This wasn’t fair! They were supposed to rescue their friends and get away from this stinky place, and now they were stuck here! They were stuck, and it wasn’t fair! She wanted to jump up and down and stomp her feet, but she couldn't do that, because Klaus was still holding her.

Then, to make matters even more stinky and unfair, just as Duncan and Isadora had tossed down their special books, Esmé had shot another one of her nasty spikes right through them, until they were both nothing but scrap paper. She’d also hit a bird, which the crowd seemed much more concerned about.

“You harmed a crow!” one of the Council ladies exclaimed. “You broke rule number one, the most important rule of them all!”

The council and the villagers crowded round Olaf and Esmé- hopefully now they’d be the ones getting burned at the stake, that seemed much more fairer.

“Come on,” Violet whispered, putting her back into the driver’s seat.

Sunny wasn’t sure if she wanted to drive- it had seemed fun earlier, but now she might be too sad. Feeling like she’d aged a lot- like she was at least sixteen, practically a grandmother- she sighed, and switched the truck back on. At least spinning the wheel was still fun.

Maybe they would see Duncan and Isadora someday. They weren’t gone, not like Mama and Papa, or Uncle Monty and Auntie Josephine. She tried to keep that in mind- things could get better. They’d see their friends, and they’d have food, and everything would be like it should be.

Violet

As Violet and her siblings drove away from the village, they could still see the mobile home ahead of them. And as Violet watched her friends vanish up into the air, her own feelings were up in the air, too. On one hand, she felt sad, because she didn’t know if or when she’d see them again. On the other hand, though, she couldn't help feeling a little relieved, because now they were both safe, and didn’t have to share in the uncertainty she felt, about what would happen next.

“We’re going fast,” Klaus said. He’d spent most of their journey so far curled away from Violet and Sunny, like he didn’t want either of them to see just how upset he was by the loss of their friends. Violet felt that sense of inadequacy again, like she should know how to make this better, but couldn't.

“That’ll happen when we’re being driven by a toddler who only knows how to accelerate.”

“Rude,” Sunny replied.

“Anyway, we need to keep moving now.”

“And go where and do what?”

“We’ll have to work that out ourselves- we need to be self-sustaining from now on.”

“Like me?” Sunny asked, her small hands gripping the wheel.

“Yeah, I suppose,” Violet replied, though she wasn’t sure if she liked just how fast her sister was growing up. “How much did we manage to salvage from the commonplace books?” she asked her brother.

“It’s hard to say,” Klaus replied, holding up several torn sheets of paper. “Everything’s in scraps- there’s notes, research, codes, sketches… this one looks like a poem.”

“Izzy?” Sunny asked.

“This one’s in Duncan’s handwriting,” Klaus replied. “When we drive away in secret/ You'll be a volunteer, So don't scream when we take you/ The world is quiet here.”

“Well, that’s a little ominous,” Violet replied. “But, Jacques did say he was a volunteer, so maybe it’s all connected?”

Whatever it was, Violet hoped that the answers would lie in the Hinterlands ahead of them. The only way they could go now was forward- and they’d have to go it alone. But if they could get the answers they needed, then maybe it would be worth being self-sustaining now.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eighteen: In Which The Baudelaires Try To Send A Telegram

Violet

Violet was not sure how long she and her siblings had been driving, or how far away from the village they had gotten. They were on the lam- something that she’d never thought they’d be. Violet couldn’t shake the feeling that she had let everyone down again- that somehow it was her fault her now thirteen-year-old brother was sitting on one side of her with a broken heart and possibly the worst birthday ever, and her little sister was sitting on her other side driving a car.

I should have something to say, she thought. Some way I could make everything better. And if any of us should be driving us through the Hinterlands, it should be me. She wished they had made it up to the self-sustaining hot air mobile home with their friends. She wished that none of these unfortunate events had happened, and they were still living with their parents, and that they’d met the Quagmires under more normal circumstances. But wishing for all of these things wouldn’t make them so.

Finally, their fire truck came to a stop. Sunny pushed at the pedal and spun the wheel a bit, but nothing happened.

“Why stop?” she asked.

“I think it’s out of gas,” Violet replied. Sunny just looked at her, confused, like she wasn’t sure what that word meant. “Never mind, let’s see if we can get it running again.”

They got out of the truck, Violet carrying two gas cans and Klaus carrying Sunny. They walked for a bit, finally coming across a tall, slightly lopsided building. The windows were tall and narrow, and it was all very grey and lifeless.

“Last Chance General Store,” Klaus said, reading aloud the sign. “It’s a bit of an ominous name.”

“It probably just means it’s the only building around for miles,” Violet replied.

“Well, I guess a last chance is better than no chance at all,” he said. “So, let’s see what we can find.”

Violet went to the gas pumps, Klaus went to check the phone, and Sunny toddled over to peer up at a slot machine that was sitting outside of the shop. There was no gas, the phone wasn’t working, and even the slot machine seemed to be broken.

That wasn’t even the worst of it, though- outside the shop was a newspaper rack, with the latest copy of the Daily Punctilio sitting on the top. Violet picked it up, and immediately wanted to throw it back down to the dusty ground.

Baudelaire Orphans At Large, the headline read. Authorities are trying to capture Veronica, Klyde and Susie Baudelaire, who escaped from the uptown jail of the Village of Fowl Devotees, where they were imprisoned for the murder of Count Omar.

“They’ve got our names wrong- the only thing they got right is the part where we escaped from jail,” she explained, putting the paper back onto the rack.

“Do you think we should risk going inside the shop?” Klaus asked. “If anyone read the paper, they’ll know who we are.

“We can’t just keep wandering around until we die of thirst or exposure.”

“Or Olaf,” Sunny added.

“They’ve got a telegraph machine,” Klaus said, pointing to a sign near the door. “We could send somebody a message.”

Violet wasn’t sure who they could possibly send a message to at this point, but it had to be better than nothing. She squared her shoulders and led the way into the shop.

Sunny

The Last Chance General Store was very, very full of stuff. There were piles and piles of it everywhere, with little paths you could walk through. How were they ever meant to find a telly-graph machine in all this stuff? What even was a telly-graph machine anyway? Klaus had said they were gonna send a message on it, so maybe it was like a phone.

“Is that you, Lou?” asked a man behind the counter, whose dæmon was a small brown cat.

“No,” Klaus replied.

“I’ll be right with you, I’m just stacking day-old pastries,” the man replied. Sunny perked up at that- pastries sounded nice.

“We were hoping to send a telegram,” Violet said.

“See the porcelain kittens there?” the man asked, pointing to several small cat statues behind them. “It’s not that aisle. Turn right at the brooms, left at the fishing poles, and you’ll find it.” He frowned, studying the three of them. “You look familiar- have I seen you kids before?”

“We’re child actors,” Klaus replied.

“No, no, that’s not it,” the man said. “Oh, well, it’ll come to me.”

Violet and Klaus went in the direction of the machine, but Sunny stayed behind. She wandered up to the counter, stood up on her tiptoes and held onto the counter, smiling up at the man.

“Cake?” she asked, pointing to the pile of pastries. “Pease?” She pointed in the direction Klaus had gone. “Biffday,” she added.

The man watched her for a moment, and smiled. He took three of the pastries, and set them down on the counter. Sunny reached up and took them.

“What’s your name, little lady?” the man asked. Sunny wondered if he was still trying to place them.

“Theodora,” she replied.

Violet had said the paper hadn’t used their proper names, but even so, she wasn’t going to say that she was called Sunny, just in case what the paper said was close. Besides- Theodora was sort of her proper name, so she wasn’t completely lying. It was her middle name- something that didn’t seem to do much other than sit between the Sunny and the Baudelaire. But the man didn’t need to know that.

“Alright then, Theodora, you run along now. Good luck with your telegram!”

Sunny walked away as quickly as she could, finding her siblings standing beside a table with a large square box on one side, a device with lots of buttons on the other. This was the telly-graph machine, she realised.

“What on Earth were you thinking?” Violet hissed. “That shopkeeper recognised us!”

“Cake,” she said, handing her one of the pastries. “Hap biff,” she said to Klaus, handing him the second one.

“Thanks, Sunny,” he said, taking it. “Don’t do that again, though, okay? We have to stick together.” Sunny nodded. “Alright, we need to hurry. Who do you think we should telegraph?”

“Mr Poe’s office,” Violet replied.

“We can’t- Mr Poe thinks we’re murderers, not to mention the fact that his wife’s the one writing those awful stories about us.”

“Jackie help,” Sunny pointed out.

“Sunny’s right- Mr Poe might be useless, but his secretary seems to be on our side,” Violet replied. “Klaus, you tap out the words, while I dictate. Sunny, you listen to make sure the message goes through.”

She placed something on Sunny’s head- two round things attached to a headband. Sunny wondered how exactly these were meant to help her know when the message had gone through, or what that would even sound like. Klaus stood in front of the buttons and switches.

“Remember to say stop after every sentence,” Violet said. “To Mulctuary Money Management, stop. Attention, Mr. Poe, stop.” She paused, looking at something further down the little path they’d walked along to get here. “Stop.”

Sunny and Klaus turned, and saw Count Olaf standing a few feet away, patting the head of one of the porcelain kittens.

“Hello, hello, hello!” he said.

Klaus reached down and grabbed Sunny, and they backed away down the path, moving quickly round a corner.

“Sir!” Klaus called. “Sir, we need help!”

“Hold on a second, my hands are full of pastries!” the man replied.

They ducked behind a display of ribbons and plastic ponies. The ribbons weren’t the same as the ones Violet wore when she invented things, and the ponies were lots of pretty colours- yellow and green and pink and orange. If Sunny focused on those, she could ignore how scared she felt.

“Milt!” called a voice from the front of the shop. “Put down those scones and look at the headline!” Oh dear, that wasn’t good. “Baudelaire Orphans At Large!”

“I know those kids!” Milt replied. “They’re in my store right now!”

“Shit,” Violet muttered.

None of them said anything else. Sunny wanted to say something, but if they could hear the grown-ups, maybe the grown-ups could hear them too? Was that how noise worked?

They moved to hide behind another display, Klaus and Sunny on one side of the path, Violet on the other. This display had a lot of cups, some with flowers, some with stars. Under each cup was a plate. Look at the flowers and the stars- everything will be fine if you just look at the flowers and stars.

Finally, finally, they reached a wall of beads. There was a door on the other side, and Violet pushed it open. They’d made it out of the shop, everything was going to be okay now.

Klaus

They were outside the shop now. There were two vehicles in sight- the fire truck they’d stolen from the village, and Olaf’s long grey car. Klaus could see the nuthatch-dæmon of the dark-haired henchperson perched on the roof, could hear Esmé’s voice trailing out of an open window.

“...And when I was fourteen, I was crowned False Spring Queen!” she said.

“What can we do?” Klaus whispered. If only they could fill up the fire truck, they could get away from this place. But with no gas, what were they meant to do?

Just then, a blue van pulled up. There were red and white checked curtains, and a pattern of black musical notes painted along the sides. But Klaus wasn’t focused on the curtains or the notes, he was focused on the three large letters on the side of the van- V.F.D.

“Do you see that?” Violet asked, pointing to the van. Klaus nodded.

“We still don’t know what those letters stand for,” he replied.

“Well, we can’t go back into the shop- what choice do we have?”

Klaus nodded again, and they snuck across to the van. Somewhere along the way, they had dropped their scones, and Klaus couldn't help feeling bad for Sunny- she’d gone to all that trouble for nothing.

Finally, they reached the back doors of the van, just as they swung open. A red-haired man with a short beard and a lark-dæmon looked down at the three of them, smiling broadly.

“Volunteers?” he asked. Violet and Klaus nodded, suspecting that this was the only answer that would get them into the van. “Hop on in!” he said, moving aside to let them in.”

Klaus and his sisters climbed into the van. They did not hop- in fact, Klaus doubted that he would ever feel like hopping again.

Chapter Text

Chapter Nineteen: In Which The Baudelaires Reach Heimlich Hospital

Violet

The van that Violet and her siblings had gotten into turned out to be full of people every bit as cheerful as the bearded man who’d greeted them. There were cheerful men, cheerful women, and a few cheerful people who were neither. Even their dӕmons were cheerful- Violet spotted a lot of dogs with wagging tails, a fair few birds flapping their wings in excitement and at least one very happy tortoise. It seemed like Violet and her siblings were the only people here not revelling in the joys of the world. 

“Hiya!” the bearded man said after a minute or two.

“Um, hi,” Violet replied. “Are you V.F.D?”

“We certainly are!” the man replied.

“Can you tell us what V.F.D stands for?” 

“We certainly can!” Then he, and all the other people in the van, started to sing.

“ We are… Volunteers Fighting Disease,

And we’re cheerful all day long!

If someone said that we were sad, 

That person would be wrong!

Tra la la, fiddle dee dee,

Hope you get well soon!

Ho ho ho, hee hee hee,

Have a heart shaped balloon!”

“Gosh, I love that song!” The bearded man said, when they had finally stopped singing.

“Spats,” Sunny remarked, which meant something like, Why is it that every person we bump into who has red hair turns out to be some kind of music person? The man gave her a strange look, almost of recognition, but didn’t otherwise respond.

“So, that’s what V.F.D stands for?” Klaus asked, taking note of it in his blue notebook. “Volunteers Fighting Disease?”

“Yep!” the man replied. “We’re on our way to fight diseases right now, actually, at Heimlich Hospital. You’re welcome to join us, siblings! I call you that cause here, everyone’s one big family, and we believe all people are brothers and sisters- or siblings.”

“Aren’t brothers and sisters people who share the same parents?” Klaus asked.

“Not always, brother.”

“We’re looking for a group called V.F.D,” Violet replied. “I just don’t think this is the right one- the one we’re looking for had a man called Jacques in it, and possibly several more people.”

“Jackie,” Sunny said. “Larry, Miss Caliban.”

For the first time, it hit Violet just how short their list of potential allies was in this mysterious organisation. Was this it? A woman they’d only met a couple times, a waiter and a librarian? She remembered the photo of their former guardians. Had they been connected to V.F.D as well? That would certainly explain a lot. But, just about everyone in that photo was dead too. It was a line-up of ghosts, comforting to look at but not much use otherwise. 

But, she couldn’t dwell on that now. There had to be more people in this organisation who could help them. There just had to be.

“None of those names ring a bell,” the man said. “And we don’t use last names here, so that last person can’t be one of us. It sounds like what you kids need is the Library of Records.”

“The Library of Records?” Klaus asked. 

“Apparently it’s a huge room in the hospital, where they keep a whole bunch of files from all over the world. It sounds like a good place to get answers- I could be wrong, though, I’ve never actually been in there myself.”

“Would you say the hospital is a safe place?” Violet asked.

“Of course,” the man replied. “Though I have heard there were murderers around these parts, so I guess that might be a little worrying.”

“Did you read about that in the newspaper?” Klaus asked.

“No, no, we never read the newspaper, it’s too depressing. Our motto is, no news is good news!”

“Serious?” Sunny asked, which meant, Are you guys serious? Violet translated for her.

“Not if we can help it, tiny sister!” the man replied. 

“Not tiny!” Sunny grumbled, which made Violet smile.

Sunny

Finally they reached the hospital. Sunny hadn’t really been sure what to expect from it- the last time she’d been in a hospital had been a very, very long time ago, probably a lifetime, and she didn’t really remember much besides the fact there had been nothing to bite, and that Mama had been there.

Even so, this hospital seemed a bit weird. One side looked like a proper building, and quite a fancy one at that. There were lots of shiny windows, and a sign that had a funny word on it- Heemlitch? He-im-litch? The man in the van had called this place “Heimlich Hospital,” but the sign didn’t seem to match up with that.

The other side was even weirder. It looked like someone had started to put a building together- they’d got all the wood and stuff in the right places- they’d just forgotten to finish it off. There was a sign on this side, too, but it was just a piece of cardboard with a word scribbled on it. At least that word looked a bit more like “hospital,” though.

“We’re here! We’re here!” cheered one of the van people, a lady with yellow hair and several balloons in her hands. “Now we get to help people, by singing!”

Sunny didn’t know about that- the only time she’d thought anyone’s singing was helpful was when Mama used to sing her to sleep. Maybe that was what they were going to do- maybe the hospital had a lot of babies who needed to be sung to sleep.

“Let’s go!” cried the man with a beard. He’d picked up a guitar, and started running a hand over the strings. Somehow, that was creating music.

“I’ve never liked hospitals,” Klaus said. 

“Well, technically it’s only half a hospital,” Violet replied.

“Not really,” Sunny said. It was a bit more than that- if it was only half, there wouldn’t be anything on the other side.

“Come on, guys, no frowny faces!” the bearded man said. “Being cheerful is the whole point of Volunteers Fighting Disease!”

“What exactly will we be doing?” Violet asked.

“Mostly, we just wander the halls, singing songs and handing out heart shaped balloons to every person on our list, like the song says.”

“Right, and how exactly does that help fight diseases?”

“Hey, everyone!” the man called out to the rest of the van people. “One of our new sisters wants to know how singing songs helps fight diseases!”

The lady with the yellow hair and the balloons came skipping over to them, and started to explain things.

“It’s because when you’re laughing, you’re…” she trailed off. “Okay, when you’re laughing, you’re taking in oxygen, or whatever it’s called, and that oxygen goes…” she trailed off again.

“Because a cheerful attitude is the most effective tool against disease!”

“I thought antibiotics were,” Klaus replied.

“Or getting plenty of rest,” Violet offered.

“What’s a disease?” Sunny asked. They’d been saying that word so much, she had to make sure it was a proper one. It was starting to sound made up.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Klaus replied. The van people skipped into the building, leaving Sunny and her siblings outside. “Now, we’d better find that Library of Records, before Olaf finds us.”

They had to move fast to catch up with the van people. Sunny let Violet carry her in, though honestly, she was getting a little tired of being carried everywhere like a bag of flour. She could walk now, and even sort of run, and she wanted to do that all the time. Was the idea of being able to go anywhere on your own feet as exciting to her siblings as it was to her, she wondered? It should be, because it was very exciting.

They stood right at the back of the group, so they wouldn’t be noticed, which was just as well, because it seemed that the group had to talk to somebody before they could get into the hospital.

“Man with beard, check,” a woman said. “Other volunteers, check. Here is today’s patient list, which as you know, is a complete list of everyone here at Heimlich Hospital.”

“Thanks, sister,” the bearded man said.

“My name is Babs,” replied the woman.

The group skipped away, and Violet led Klaus over to a large plant. The three of them ducked behind it, probably so this Babs lady wouldn’t spot them.

“How will we get to this Library of Records?” Klaus asked. Violet pointed to a sign next to a long corridor. “Oh,” he said, which Sunny took to mean that it said Library of Records.

They moved quickly over to the corridor before Babs could spot them. Sunny caught a glimpse of her- enough to see she had brown hair, white clothes and a large yellow dog for a dӕmon- before they were out of the front part of the hospital and into the corridor. 

Finally, they reached two large grey doors. Violet tugged on the handles, but they didn’t open. Then she dug through the pockets of her pink overalls, but didn’t take anything useful out of those either.

“I need a bucket or something, to carry inventing tools in,” she grumbled. “In the meantime, though, we need to find another way in.”

“Maybe there’s someone we could talk to, who could let us in?” Klaus suggested.

“Hot press,” Sunny replied, which meant, Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna work when we’re front page news.

“Sunny’s right,” Violet said. Of course I’m right, Sunny thought. I always am. “Everybody’s read the Daily Punctilio, we’re bound to be recognised.”

Just then, a man came down the corridor towards them. He looked very old, even by grown-up standards, and wore a rumpled suit and glasses. His dӕmon was a mole, same as Mr. Poe’s, but Sunny decided not to hold that against him.

“Is someone there?” he asked. "My eyesight isn't what it used to be, but you appear to be children."

"Maybe not everyone," Klaus said, before turning his attention to the man. "We're volunteers."

"Well, then, you've come to the right place. My name is Hal, and this is Chloe. We have been working here at the Library of Records for more years than either of us can count. In fact, someone should count for me before my eyesight completely goes." He paused, looking at them for a moment. "Did Babs send you?"

"Yes," Violet replied. "We're happy to be of assistance."

"Excellent," Hal said. "Then come right in, and I'll explain everything."

Well, Sunny thought, as Hal opened the doors to let them into the library. That was easy. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty: In Which The Hospital Becomes Hostile

Klaus

The Library of Records was a vast grey room, filled with rows upon rows of filing cabinets. It was pretty different from any library Klaus had seen so far, but he was so glad to be back in an actual library again that he didn't care. He hadn't been in one since they'd left Prufrock, back when the kindly Miss Caliban had been their only adult ally and the Quagmires had still been there. It felt like a lifetime ago.

"Paperwork is the cornerstone of what we do here at Heimlich Hospital," Hal explained, leading them through the large room.

"Not diagnosing sick people?" Klaus asked.

"Or alleviating pain?" Violet suggested. 

"Lullaby?" Sunny asked, which meant something like, Or looking after babies? She seemed to have the idea of hospitals linked up with her own birth, which made sense, as that was the last time she'd been in one, and didn't seem to know what they were for outside of that context.

"You couldn't do any of those things without first typing the details on specialized forms, which must be kept on special clipboards, until it's time to file them in special folders," Hal replied. "Here is where the paperwork comes to live forever and thus is the hospital's beating heart. I wouldn't show this to just anyone, but you look like people I feel I can trust."

You don't even know who we are, Klaus thought. You don't know where we've come from or what we've been accused of doing. How can you possibly think we're trustworthy? Maybe Hal just found it easier to put his faith in people. Klaus suspected it would be a while before he could fully trust anyone except his sisters- and the Quagmires, buy they weren't here anymore- and Lizzie, though really, trusting her was really just trusting himself, so that didn't really count.

"It's all very impressive," he said instead, looking around the room again.

"Thank you," Hal replied. "I organized everything myself. Now, not only does Heimlich Hospital store their information here, but people send me files from all over the world."

"Why send it to a hospital?" Violet asked. 

"There's no safer place to store information than at Heimlich Hospital," Hal explained. "Why, you can find information on everything from picture frames to pills, puddings to pyramids, and that's just the P aisle." 

"Think of everything we could learn from these files," Klaus said. Hal shook his head.

"No, no, no. We file information, not read it. I don't wanna see you touching a file unless you're putting it away. The information we hold here is of the utmost importance, children. That's why I keep these cabinets locked with my special keys." He held up a ring of keys- there must've been at least a hundred of them.

Sunny

Sunny wasn't too impressed with the Library of Records- libraries were meant to have books, preferably ones with lots of nice pictures in them. All this place had was a bunch of stinking filing cabinets. 

But now they weren't even allowed to read what was in the cabinets? That was just mean. It wasn't so bad for her, she couldn't read good anyway. But she felt bad for Klaus, he loved reading more than anything, just like Violet loved making things and Sunny loved food. (Biting was still fun, of course, but food seemed a lot more interesting.)

Hal showed them around the room. After a little while, Sunny asked to be picked up. She wanted to keep walking, but she was tired. How did everyone else do it, stay on their feet for so long all the time? Sunny wished she had friends who were also babies, they might understand how annoying it was to want to run around everywhere all the time but not be able to.

"This chute is where files go out, but you won't use it much," Hal said, showing them a small door in the wall. "Once paperwork comes into the library, it rarely goes out. It hasn't been used in years. It's probably full of spiders." 

He led them away, and pointed them towards a chute coming down from the roof. "Now, most of your work will involve that chute over there, where the files come in." 

A folder came sliding down the chute, and Hal picked it up. "You may glance at the file, but remember to read as little information as possible. For instance…" He opened the file, glanced at the first page and shut it again. "I can tell you this file has something to do with the weather last week at Damocles Dock, on the shore of a lake somewhere."

"Lachrymose," Sunny said, remembering one of their very first guardians. "Auntie Josie stayed there."

Sometimes, when she managed a proper sentence, she thought about Auntie Josephine, and wondered if she'd be pleased that she wasn't saying things like "delmo" any more. Auntie Josephine had been very serious about using words properly, but Sunny doubted she'd meant to be mean when she told her off for her baby speak. She'd just liked words, like Sunny liked food, and wanted them to be used right.

"Where is your Aunt Josie now?" Hal asked. 

"She… she died," Violet explained. 

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Hal replied. "May her memory be a blessing." After a moment, he held up the file again. "Now, if I were to file this, I'd put it under D, for Damocles, or W, for Weather, or L, for Lachrymose."

"Wouldn't it be difficult for people to find the information?" Violet asked. "They wouldn't know whether to look under D, W or L." 

"Then I suppose they'd have to look in all three," Hal replied. "The Library of Records has very strict rules against checking out files."

Just then, the door started to creak open. Violet, who was still holding Sunny, darted behind a big filing cabinet, tugging Klaus in behind her. Oliver changed into a moth, so he could hide better, and Lizzie, in her owl form, sat on top of Klaus's head. She'd been changing less often since they'd left the village. She still could, though she didn't seem to like doing it as much.

"I'd like to check out a child," a voice spoke- slightly changed, but not as much as it usually was. "I mean, file."

"And you are?" Hal asked. Sunny risked a peek round the cabinet, and spotted Olaf, dressed up as a doctor.

"Dr. Mattathias Medical-School, at your service!" 

"Do you have credentials?"

"Here's my medical ID pass badge. I'm doing important research on botulism and I would like to consult some folders." He waved something small and square in front of Hal's face.

"What sub-department are you with?"

"Did I say botulism ? I meant annoying little pimples."

"That sounds like a bona fide request," Hal said. "I'd be more than happy to show you our files."

"You would?" 

"File an application for folder clearance to the hospital administration and wait seven to ten business days for approval." 

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really. Now, goodbye!" 

Olaf left the room then. They'd managed to stay hidden, and Violet brought them out from behind the cabinet. Oliver changed back to a wolf puppy, and Sunny asked to be put back down so she could cuddle with him. Sometimes she wished Oliver would just bite Olaf, but she knew he couldn't do that. You never, ever, never ever touched someone else's dæmon, and you didn't set yours on someone else either. It was too… icky to even think about. It was more than icky, really, but that was the best she could do.

Violet

With Olaf gone, it was time for the big test- had Hal fallen for the lies, as all their other guardians had? Not that Hal was their guardian, of course, but that was beside the point.

" Dr. Medical School? I've never heard of anything so preposterous!" Hal exclaimed. Now that was a bit of a change. 

"Neither have we," Violet replied. 

"Did you see his badge? It looked hand-laminated! Listen, children. The Library of Records must be protected at all costs. We cannot allow anyone unsavory near our precious files. Do you understand?" He paused, smiling. "Of course you do, you're just like me. I never liked wandering down the halls singing about diseases. That's why I wound up here, happy with my files, my paperwork. And you're just the same, aren't you? No wonder I trust you completely. I'm going to file you under M... for my friends." 

Violet couldn't help feeling a bit bad for him- they'd come here entirely because they wanted information on VFD and Jacques Snicket- not because they wanted to help out. Hal seemed like a nice man, and maybe he was projecting onto them a bit here, but still, it felt a bit mean to lie about their intentions here. She was distracted by her thoughts by the sound of something rattling down the chute.

"There's nothing like the sound of a file coming down that chute," Hal said. 

"It looks like a film," Klaus observed, looking at the cylinder which now sat in the same basket that file from earlier had landed in. 

"Yes, a lot of our files are films. We have projectors along the south wall for anyone who wants to view them, but no one does because no one's allowed. Could you excuse me? There're very specific instructions about where to file anything labeled Snicket. Wait here."

"Snicket, as in Jacques Snicket," Violet suggested to her siblings, once Hal had left. "The man who was trying to help us."

"Who Count Olaf murdered," Klaus added.

"Miss tree," Sunny said, which meant something like, Who might have helped us solve this mystery.

"Hal," Violet said, loud enough for the librarian to hear. 

"Yes?" he asked, poking his head round a cabinet.

"We need to look at a file."

"Our job is to file files, not examine them."

"This particular file is very important."

"It's a matter of life and death," Klaus added.

"Life and death? That does sound important." Hal came back round to face them, the file gone from his hand. "But rules are important too. I'm sorry, children, but-"

"Attention, this is Babs, head of human resources, hospital administration and the party planning committee!" Babs said over the intercom, before Hal could continue. "Due to budget cuts, the cafeteria will be closing in nine minutes, the gift shop in three minutes, and the Library of Records right this very second." Just as she said that, all the lights in the library went off. 

"Looks like you can't see that file after all," Hal said.

Sunny

Well, this wasn't very good, was it? They had some way they could find out what was really going on and get some answers, and now they couldn't look at it. This Snicket file could be helpful- and it was a film, not something written down, so it didn't matter that Sunny couldn't read, she could see what it said too. Mr. Snicket might be dead, but maybe there was something in his file they could use.

"We've got to find a way to see the Snicket file," Violet said. 

"Agreed," Sunny replied. 

"We'll try Hal again in the morning, at least this place has beds we can sleep in tonight."

Just then, Babs's voice came over the loudspeakers. Almost as if she'd heard what Violet just said and wanted to prove that she was very wrong to say that.

"This is Babs, head of human resources, hospital administration and the party planning committee. I'd just like to announce my unexpected, super early retirement. My replacement will begin immediately."

"Thank you, Babs!" Olaf said, taking over the speakers. "You certainly appreciate all my hard work over these years! Greetings, Heimlich Hospital. This is Dr. Mattathias Medical School with an emergency news bulletin. Some murderers have been spotted in the hospital, so we will be conducting a thorough check of each and every bed until they've been caught. After all, no one wants to be murdered to death in their sleep. Good night and sweet dreams!"

"How see?" Sunny asked. She was scared, she was very, very scared, and she wanted to know how Olaf could've possibly seen them. "How can he see?" she asked again, hoping that sounded a bit clearer. 

"There's cameras in the walls," Klaus explained. "They'll link up to one room in the hospital, and if you're in that room, you'll be able to see everything that's happening in the building."

"We have to go somewhere where there won't be cameras, then," Violet said. "Like the unfinished wing- there's no walls there, so there can't be any cameras."

Sunny didn’t want to do that, it was gonna be cold and nasty and she didn't want to sleep there, not one little bit. But maybe it would be okay if Violet and Klaus were there. Maybe if they were all together, it would be fine.

Klaus

Hiding out in the unfinished wing sounded like a pretty good idea- the only problem was getting there. It was fair to assume that if Olaf was here, then so was Esmé and the rest of his awful associates, and it was fair to assume that they'd all be looking for the children. So they had to both figure out how to get into the unfinished wing, and do so without running into anyone.

"This way's clear," Violet said, leading them round a corner. 

She was holding on to Sunny, and Klaus was following a step or two behind. They were doing pretty well, they'd nearly made it without encountering a single disreputable henchperson.

That was, until they heard the voice of the hook-handed man, calling out to them. 

"Baudelaires!" he called. "Baudelaires, where are you?"

They ducked behind what seemed to be a pile of construction equipment, crouching down so they were well hidden. Lizzie shifted into a mouse, curling up in Klaus's pocket, and Oliver did the same with Sunny. He could feel the reluctance she was starting to feel about changing- she didn't really want to do it any more. It probably wouldn't take much to make her stop and settle. Klaus only hoped she wouldn't settle as a mouse, that would not suit him at all. 

Finally, the hook-handed man walked back down the corridor, and they were safe to keep going for a bit longer. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-One: In Which The Baudelaires Watch A Film

Klaus

It was a relief when they finally made it to the unfinished wing of the hospital, even if climbing across the wooden boards which made up the floor was its own kind of nerve-wracking experience.

"Watch your step, guys," Violet said, leading them across the planks to a slightly more solid part of the floor. 

"It's a good thing we're at a hospital," Klaus remarked. "Do you think this might be the worst place we've ever slept?"

"Tough call," Sunny said. 

"It'll be fine, though, we can make it work," Violet said. 

"That's gonna be easier said than done," Klaus replied. 

Just about everything in this world was easier said than done, of course, including finding a safe place to sleep. But even here, with only wooden planks to sleep on and old drop sheets for warmth, it seemed as though Klaus and his sisters had managed to do just that. However, they also knew that any safety they could find would only be temporary.

"We can't stay here all night," Violet said.

"Count Olaf isn't going to stop looking for us, though- we can't just keep wandering around hoping things will eventually get better."

"You're right- but we're part of a mystery, and we'll never be free till we figure it out." She paused, considering. "Did you find anything in Duncan and Isadora's notes?"

"Mostly just codes and poems," he replied, pulling a few of the scraps out of his pocket. "I'm not sure about this one, though, it just looks like two names- Al Funcoot and Ana Gram."

Al Funcoot he remembered, that was the guy who'd written The Marvellous Marriage. But he didn't know who Ana Gram was. Violet took that scrap out of his hand. 

"Ana Gram isn't a name- Duncan just left a small space between the second A and the G, making it look like two words."

"Seriously?" Klaus sighed, taking the scrap back. "Now I feel stupid."

"You should!" Sunny piped up.

"Anyway, that aside, there's really not much here- the damage from the harpoon guns made them hard to decipher." 

Sunny

The unfinished wing was every bit as cold and nasty as Sunny had been expecting. It was hard to say for sure if it was the worst place they’d ever had to sleep, but even so, it was definitely still one of the worst. Luckily, though, it seemed like they wouldn’t be there very long.

“We need to see that file,” Violet said. “But how can we get it?”

“Bake in!” Sunny said, holding her hands up to say, No need to thank me, I know that was really clever.

“We can’t do that, Sunny, Hal trusts us. Besides, I had a look at those locks earlier- they’d be difficult to pick without proper equipment."

“Bucket,” Sunny remarked, which meant, Maybe you should get a bucket to carry stuff after all.   

“Maybe we could steal the keys?” Klaus suggested.

“I can’t believe we're seriously discussing this,” Violet  said. “We can’t seriously be about to steal from an old, practically blind guy to break into a library. Our parents would be so disappointed."

“I’m sure they’d trust that we were doing what’s necessary.”

“Or they’d think we were criminals, like the newspaper says.”

“It’s a moral dilemma.” 

That sounded important, Sunny thought. Of course, she wasn’t actually sure what a moral dilemma even was, but it certainly did sound important. She wondered if Mama or Papa would think they were doing the right thing, or at least understand why they had to do it. It was hard to say, and they’d never really know for sure.

Violet

Just as Violet and her siblings had made themselves about as comfortable as could reasonably expected, Olaf’s voice could be heard over the loudspeakers, reminding them that this was about as good as they could hope for in terms of comfort and safety in this place.

“Attention! This is Dr. Mattathias Medical-School! Bed searches will continue until the murderers have been found!”

“Also,” added another voice, which sounded like it belonged to one of the white-faced women, “if anyone in the hospital of any kind…”

“Please bring them to the human resources office immediately,” her sister continued.

“Thank you!” both of them said together.

“Where does he even find these people?” Prospero speculated. “And how are they all just as disreputable as he is?”

“What nonsense!” another voice spoke up, this one not coming from the loudspeakers. Hal was making his way out towards them, clutching a tray with three bowls of soup and one small cup. Chloe was hanging onto his shoulders like Yoda, and Violet had to wonder how either of them were retaining any kind of balance when Hal could barely see.. “Murderers don’t sleep at night, they’re wracked with guilt!”

“Hal!” Violet exclaimed, cautiously getting to her feet. “Please be careful!” She started guiding him over to where her siblings were sitting.

“Oh, don’t worry about me, child, I have the balance of a blind cat.” He took a shaky step forward, and Violet reached out in case he needed to be caught. 

“I can see that,” she replied.

“I made you children some chicken soup, from an old family recipe. Just the thing for a night like this.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Klaus said, reaching forward and taking the tray. “Here, I’ll take that. How did you know we’d be out here?”

“Because you’re just like me,” Hal replied. “I used to love to sleep under the stars when I was a boy.”

“We’d put up tents in our backyard,” Violet said, after settling down with her soup and showing Sunny how to drink hers from the cup. She might be old enough to have a go at using a spoon, but she’d also probably make a mess, and the last thing she needed was to get soup all over her only dress. “Mother and Father would help us make s’mores over an open fire.”

“Where are your parents now?” Hal asked.

“They’re dead,” Violet admitted, wondering if that would ever get easier to say.

“I’m so sorry, children,” Hal replied. “I know how dark and lonely the world must feel for you. But rest assured, you can always find a kind person who’s willing to shine a light on you when you need it, and eventually, you’ll learn to do the same for others.”

As much as Violet would prefer it if Hal didn’t project onto them so much, she had to admit, she was genuinely grateful to have found another kind adult out here in the Hinterlands, someone who seemed to really care about the three of them. Which just made what they were about to do feel even worse.

Hal soon drifted off to sleep, which was their cue to put their plan into motion. Violet drew out one of her ribbons- she only had a couple left now, her black one and her purple one- and held it out. She’d taken out the black one, which seemed strangely appropriate.

“This doesn’t feel right,” she said, fighting back a pang of guilt.

“I know,” Klaus replied. “But what choice do we have?”

They found several small, round nuts in an abandoned toolbox, and threaded then onto the ribbon. There was a good chance this wouldn't actually work, but then again, if Hal's eyesight was really as bad as it seemed, maybe it would.

Once they'd finished making the fake keyring, Klaus quietly reached into Hal's pocket to draw the real one out. It made a slight clinking noise, which woke Hal from his sleep. 

"Sorry, I must've slipped off there for a moment," he said. "I suggest we all get some sleep, paperwork awaits us in the morning." He frowned, patting his pockets. "Wait, where are my keys?" 

"They're right here," Violet said. "I'll put them in your pocket for you," she added, sliding the fake key ring into Hal's jacket pocket. Hal smiled.

“So happy I found trustworthy and loyal assistants. Never in my life did I think I would trust anyone as much as I trust you three. Good night, children. I shall file you three under P, for People I trust most in this world.”

“Good night, Hal,” Violet said.

“Good night, Hal,” Klaus said.

“Night night!” Sunny said.

They had the keys- but that was only step one. Now they actually had to get into the library and find the Snicket file. 

Klaus

They made their way back into the finished wing of the hospital, and soon found themselves once again standing in front of the library of records.

“I feel terrible about this,” Klaus admitted, as Violet started looking through the keys.

“One day, we’ll go back and apologise, and explain why we had to do it. In the meantime, though, we’d better hurry, Olaf could be watching us right now.” 

Violet slotted a key that was a bit bigger than the others into the keyhole, and opened the door. They entered the room, and Klaus switched on the lights, while Violet locked the door behind them.

“Okay, so, Hal said that he had very specific instructions about where to file anything labelled Snicket,” Klaus said. 

“What are some places we could look, then? We could split up and cover a couple at once.”

“Well, S for Snicket’s an obvious one, but also J, for Jacques, or maybe…” he paused, trying to think of other options.

“V for Volunteer!” Sunny suggested. 

"Okay, I'll take that one, Klaus, you can take S for Snicket, and Sunny, would you like to try taking J for Jacques? It’ll be the first cabinet in the J aisle, we can point you towards it if you’re not sure.”

“Okay!” Sunny replied, and toddled off to the J aisle. Violet went over to open the relevant cabinet for her, while Klaus went over to find the S aisle. The relevant cabinet was labelled Snack to Snifter, and once Violet had opened it up and went off to the V aisle, Klaus started flicking through the files.

“How spell Jacques?” Sunny called. 

“J-A-C-Q-U-E-S,” Klaus called back. “Why, have you found something?”

“No- found a Jack, though. He’s a ripper.”

“Okay, I think that’s enough research for you,” he replied. “Wanna come over here and look at snacks while I look for Snicket?”

“Okay!” She came over, and Klaus handed her the file.

There was nothing filed under Snicket. No file, no documents, and certainly not the film they'd seen earlier. Klaus sighed, and was about to slam the drawer shut in frustration, when Violet called out to them.

“Found it!” 

They made their way over to the projectors at the back of the room, and slotted the film into one of the machines. For a moment, nothing happened, then they saw an image on the screen, a dark-haired man with an emerald salamander sitting behind a desk.

“Mr. Snicket!” Sunny said.

“I never thought we’d see him again,” Klaus said.

“How’s your brother?” said a voice behind the camera. Brother? Klaus frowned. So there was more than one Snicket?

“Dead or on the lam, either way, he doesn’t mind,” Jacques replied.

“Alright, this is the formal debriefing of Jacques Snicket. Mr. Snicket, I need you to lay out, in excruciating detail, everything you know about Count Olaf, this recent rash of fires, and anything else we might need to know about the orphans.”

“I suppose I should start at the beginning,” Jacques began. “But before I do, I have an important update- I have reason to believe that there was a survivor of the fire.”

“Did you just say…” the cameraman asked.

“Yes, I did.”

“Does that mean what I think it means?” Klaus asked, hardly daring to believe his ears.

“That one of our parents could still be alive? I hope so,” Violet replied.

Just then, someone stepped in front of the screen- someone else who was instantly familiar to Klaus and his sisters. It was Esme Squalor, dressed in a ridiculous black and white fur coat, and wearing a furious expression.

“My name is Esme Gigi Genevieve Squalor,” she said.

“Harriet Jones,” Sunny replied, which meant, Yes, we know who you are.

“Never mind that, let’s go!” Violet exclaimed.

“There’s no need to run!” Esme replied, but they were already running away. Esme started to follow, but stopped after a couple of paces. “Damn these stiletto heels!” she snapped.

Quickly, Klaus and his sisters ducked behind the nearest file cabinet. They might have an advantage, if Esme’s footwear was going to keep slowing her down- they’d just have to be smart about how they used it. For now, they’d have to keep ducking from row to row, hoping to steer clear of Esme.

“We’ve gotta get out of here,” Violet said.

“Not without that file,” Klaus replied. Lizzie nodded in agreement, still in her owl form. She flew up to sit on Klaus’s head, which might have been a great idea had the flap of her wings not caught Esme’s attention. Klaus wished she’d just turn into a mouse or something, so she could hide better, but that didn’t seem to be happening.

“I can hear you!” Esme called, before giving a hard shove to the cabinet she was standing behind- which happened to be in the same row as the one Klaus and his sisters were hiding behind. “And I’m gonna file you under S, for smashed flat!” 

Just in time, they made it out from behind the cabinet. Quickly, Violet passed Sunny over to Klaus, before looking over at the projectors.

“Right, you and Sunny head for the door, I’ll go grab the film and catch up.”

Klaus had a really bad feeling about that plan, but they really didn't have a better one, so it would have to do.

Violet

Quick as possible, Violet made her way back across the room to the projectors. Rewinding the film reel would be easy enough, she just hoped it wouldn’t take too long. Violet pressed the button, and tried to remain calm.

“The door’s blocked, there’s no way out!” Esme called. She seemed to almost be absentmindedly knocking cabinets over now, with no real rhyme or reason. “But you don’t have to hide from me, children,” she added, in a painfully obvious fake sweet voice. “Maybe we can help each other! You see, I’m looking for something! Something small, round, full of secrets…” Violet glanced down at the canister in her hand. This must be what Esme was after. “Jacques Snicket thought he could hide it from me, but now he’s dead!”

Violet hurried over to her siblings, tucking the file into the pocket of her overalls. There was still a way they could get out of here, she just had to hope they’d all fit. Sunny would, no question, and probably Klaus too. 

“We can still make it out through the mail chute,'' she said, pointing towards it.

“ And I want it!” Esme roared, before shoving several more cabinets over.

They darted over to the mail chute. Lizzie flew inside first, Klaus climbing in after her. Then Violet passed Sunny over, and was about to climb in herself, when she heard a crashing sound from just behind her.

“Violet, look out!” Klaus shouted. Just in time, she ducked out the way of yet another row of fallen cabinets- a row which blocked her entrance to the mail chute. 

“Now what?” Prospero muttered, as Violet and Klaus tried desperately to move the cabinets. It was no use, though, they weren’t going to budge.

“Esme wants this film, we can’t let her have it,” she said, sliding the film out of her pocket and handing it to Klaus. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll find another way out and meet you back in the unfinished wing.”

Klaus and Sunny slid further along the chute, well out of Esme’s reach. Violet, meanwhile, crept as silently as she could over to the nearest cabinet. She pressed herself up against it, trying to work out where Esme was. After a moment, she slipped over to the next cabinet along, then the next, all the while praying her feet didn’t make too much noise on the linoleum floor.

“You’re all alone, Violet!” Esme shouted. “How does it feel?” 

Violet held tight to Prospero, not caring that his spines were hurting her hands. Esme was wrong, she was never alone, not truly. Peering round the side of the cabinet, Violet could see a door marked Exit. If she could just make it to the end of the aisle, then maybe, just maybe, everything would be fine. Or at least as fine as could be expected. 

There was only one thing for it, she’d have to run straight for the door. She took off, trying not to think about the crashing sounds she could hear behind her, as yet more cabinets fell. Get scared later, she thought. Of course, with all the fear she’d been holding back for the last several months, if she ever did make it to adulthood, she’d be more of a nervous wreck than Aunt Josephine. If they catch you, they will kill you, she thought. But first, they must catch you. 

“This can all be over if you just give me what I want!” Esme called. “I’ll let you go, I promise!”

“You’re a horrible actress, Esme!” Violet snapped. 

She’d finally reached the door, and was relieved to find it was open. When she saw who was on the other side, though, her relief drained away instantly. 

“Hello, hello, hello,” Olaf said, his salamander-dӕmon looking more like the colour of fresh blood than she ever had before. Before Violet could close the door again, he’d already grabbed her arm in a vice-like grip. She tried to get free, but it was no use.

“Isn’t it wonderful when we work together?” Esme asked, calmly strolling over to them and casually pushing over a couple more cabinets. 

Violet tried one more time to get free, but it was no good. Olaf yanked her out of the room, and Esme stepped out as well, slamming the door closed. Now what am I going to do? she thought, just before something clamped over her mouth and everything went black.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Two: In Which Klaus Does The Next Right Thing

Klaus 

Klaus didn't know how long he and Sunny had been crawling through the vents of the hospital. Lizzie was flying a little ahead of them, while Oliver, in his squirrel-form, sat on Sunny's shoulders. He didn't know where they were going, or what they were supposed to do now. Violet would know, of course- Violet always knew what to do in situations like this. But Violet wasn't here right now. The thought was such a blow, he stopped right where he was, unable to keep crawling. Violet was gone, and they currently had no way to get her back. They were on their own.

For months, he’d looked to Violet to know what to do, trusted that there was not a situation she couldn’t get them out of somehow. That responsibility was now on him, though, and he didn’t know if he could bear it.

“Nap?” Sunny whispered, which meant something like, Oh, are we stopping to sleep?

“No, Sunny, we aren’t. I just need a moment,” he whispered back.

“Shame,” she replied. “Sleepy.”

“I know, Sunny, I’m tired too. But we have to find Violet. We… we need her back.”

“Mama or Papa live?” she asked. Do you think one of our parents is still alive? 

“I don’t know. Let’s focus on finding Violet for now, we can deal with that later.”

You have to keep going, he told himself. Everything seems so hopeless now, but you can’t let that stop you. Just take it one step at a time. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to keep crawling. He just had to keep moving forward, at least until they found Violet. Find Violet, get away from this hostile hospital, find whichever of our parents survived the fire. When he thought about it like that, it seemed simple. Until he peered through one of the grates and spied a doctor and a nurse pushing a patient along on a gurney. A perfectly normal sight in a hospital, of course. Except, the nurse had pale blonde hair and what looked more like a fancy dress costume than a uniform, the doctor had one eyebrow and an all-too-familiar red streak on his shoulder, and the patient wore bright pink overalls. 

“Vi,” Sunny whispered. “Gotta help!”

“I know- but how?” Klaus asked, an unpleasant churning feeling building in his stomach- less like butterflies and more like angry hornets. What the Hell were they meant to do now?

They watched as Violet said something they couldn’t hear from where they were, then Esme put tape over her mouth, and the gurney was wheeled out of sight. Klaus wished he knew where they’d gone, the better to go after them. In the meantime, they had to get out of the vents- though what they’d do after that, he didn’t know. Don’t look too far ahead, he thought. Just break this down, one step at a time. 

“Vi in tubble,” Sunny said, which likely meant, Violet’s in trouble.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Klaus replied. “Come on, we’ve got to rescue her and get out of this wretched place while we still can.”

“Where start?” she asked. Where do we start?

“Well, first we need to get out of the vents- maybe I could open this grate and-”

“Attention!” Olaf barked over the intercom, before he could say any more. “Attention! This is Dr. Mattathias Medical-School, Head of Human Resources and Hospital Administration! I have nothing to do with party planning. Please be aware that two of the three Baudelaire murderers, Klyde and Susie, have been spotted in the hospital! If you see any children that you recognise from the Daily Punctilio, please capture them and bring them to the most stylish nurse you can find! Thank you.”

“Shit,” Klaus muttered, moving away from the grate and further down the vent. “Shit, shit, shit!”

“Shit bad or not?” Sunny asked, which meant, Okay, is shit a bad word I can’t use ever or isn’t it? “Mix message.”

“It’s definitely a bad word- though maybe we can let you say it sometimes, in special circumstances.”

“Okay!”

The vent started to take a downward tilt shortly after that. Sunny wanted to slide down, but Klaus managed to convince her that shuffling down slowly would be better. They wound up level with the floor, with another grate sitting in front of them. It looked looser than the other one had- it would probably be pretty easy to get through.

“It’s fair to assume that Violet is somewhere in this hospital- if she weren’t, then Olaf and Esme would have left by now. So, we have to go and find her.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. Olaf is likely still watching us through the security cameras, and the rest of the staff and patients might recognise us as the murderers from the Daily Punctilio. Not to mention, the troupe are probably still lurking around.”

Just then, they heard a faint clamour of voices coming down the corridor. It didn’t take long to realise that this was coming from the Volunteers Fighting Disease- the same Volunteers Fighting Disease who had openly admitted to never reading the Daily Punctilio, meaning they had no idea who Klaus or Sunny were outside of their brief encounter in the van the other day. If there was any group of people it would be safe to hide out amongst, it would definitely be these guys.

Klaus gave the grate a shove, which was enough to pop it out of the wall, and climbed out of the vent, lifting Sunny out as well, and setting her on the floor just as the group of Volunteers came up to them.

“Hey!” the bearded volunteer said when he saw them. “Wait, weren't there three of you guys?”

“Yeah, but our sister’s gone exploring,” Klaus replied, not wanting to get into what was really going on. “Do you think we could have some balloons?”

“Sure, brother! Here, take an extra one for your sister! Now everyone, let’s start singing again!” He passed Klaus three balloons and led the group in another verse of their ridiculous song.

“ We visit patients in their beds, and get them to cheer up!/ Even when they donate blood or pee into a cup!”

The balloons came in handy almost right away. Klaus spotted the bald man coming down another corridor, followed by the hook-handed man and the dark-haired henchperson, who were pushing an empty gurney between them. Both henchmen were disguised as doctors, while the henchperson wore the same disguise they had at Uncle Monty’s house. 

Klaus held the balloons in front of his and Sunny’s face, using the extra balloon to hide Lizzie from view. She hadn’t changed once since they’d entered the vents- he hadn’t noticed that until now. The realisation made him stop in his tracks for a moment, wondering if that meant what he thought it meant. If Violet were here, of course, he could talk to her about that, and ask her how it had felt when Prospero stopped changing, how she’d known that phase was over. He’d have to ask her when they found her again.

Sunny

“Klaus, keep moving!” Sunny said, tugging on the sleeve of her brother’s jacket. He’d stopped moving again, and she didn’t know why.

Although, if she had to guess, it was probably something to do with Violet being taken. Sunny was worried about that too, of course she was- but she also felt pretty confident in believing that Violet would be able to get away from Olaf and Esme. She’d make something, and she’d get away. In the meantime, she also felt confident in believing that Klaus would keep her safe. Sunny looked up to both her siblings just about the same- they were both very clever, and very brave, and as far as she was concerned, there wasn’t anything they couldn’t handle.

“Yeah, I know,” Klaus replied. “We need some way to search all the rooms, so we can find Violet.”

“Time to visit all these rooms!” announced the bearded volunteer, holding up a board with a list attached to it. 

“Well, that’s convenient,” Klaus muttered, following along with the group of volunteers as they skipped away down the corridor. 

The first room they went into had a lady whose arms were covered in white stuff and held up in front of her like a zombie or something, and a man whose legs were covered in the same white stuff, and also being held up. Neither of them looked very comfortable, and Sunny wondered what was wrong with them. 

“Could you call a nurse?” the man asked. “I was supposed to take painkillers, but nobody’s come by to give them to me.”

“Sorry, we don’t have time for that,” the bearded volunteer replied, as one of his friends tied a pink balloon to the man’s toe. “We have to visit each and every room in this hospital, so we have to move quickly.”

Also, there’s bad nurses here, Sunny thought, remembering that Esme and the henchperson with the blue bird-dӕmon were dressed up as nurses- and possibly the white-faced women were doing the same, which would mean there were four whole bad nurses in the hospital, which was a lot. That was almost as many as the number of fingers Sunny had on her hand. So they couldn’t just go up to one of the nurses and ask them to help out, even though that was really what they should do.

“Water,” croaked the lady with the lifted arms, who got a red balloon tied to her finger for her trouble.

“A cheerful attitude is much more effective at fighting illness than painkillers, or water!” said the blonde volunteer. “So cheer up, and enjoy your balloon!”

“We’re not even sick!” the man protested. “We’re injured, and no balloon’s gonna fix that!”

“Well, we don’t have time to discuss words!” the bearded volunteer said. “We have to go visit Mr. Bernard Rieux in the Plague Ward! Come on now, brothers, sisters and siblings!”

With that, they skipped away to the next patient. They saw a lot of grown-ups who looked unhappy, uncomfortable or both, and none of the volunteers did very much to help them out, they just kept singing and tying balloons to things. In the first room, they saw a man with a very bad cough, far worse than even Mr. Poe's, who did not look very well at all. Sunny wasn't exactly sure what would make him better, but she was pretty sure that having a balloon attached to his bed wouldn't do the trick. 

Then there was a man named Edward Rochester, who had bandages round his eyes. One of his hands was missing, and she wondered if he was here to get it replaced with something- maybe a hook, like Olaf's henchman had. He kept asking for someone called Jane, but before they could find out who that was, they'd already moved on. 

A lady called Clarissa Dalloway was up next. She didn’t seem to have anything wrong with her, she was just sort of staring out the window. Sunny wondered what she was looking at- that window probably looked out onto the Hinterlands, and there was nothing interesting to see out there, unless you were very interested in flat, dusty ground. 

Then there was another man, this one named Arthur Huntingdon. It was hard to tell what was wrong with him, too- he was mostly just shouting a lot, though it was hard to understand what he was saying. Room after room, person after person, they kept going. Every person they met was a grown-up. There were no kids, let alone girls with dark hair and pink overalls.

This whole thing was getting them nowhere- they were going to need a different plan, and fast.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Three: In Which Violet Makes A Plan

Violet

When Violet had first come to, she’d been handcuffed to a hospital bed, being wheeled down a corridor by Olaf and Esmé. Someone had put a gown on over her clothes, and she really hoped nobody was going to think to make her change out of said clothes and into the gown later. She had tried to speak, to protest- even to shout for help if anyone came past, though it likely wouldn’t have worked- but Esme had put tape over her mouth before she could.

Finally, they wheeled her into a room papered in almost the same black and white stripes she’d seen not so long ago in the Squalors’ apartment- though this paper was far dirtier, and the stripes more uneven. Then Esmé left, and Violet was alone with Olaf, who took the tape away, but otherwise didn’t do anything- though this didn’t set her at ease, not even a little.

“Comfy?” he asked, like she wasn’t handcuffed to a metal slab.

“Klaus and Sunny will find me!” she replied, knowing that was true and secretly wishing they’d be a little quicker about it.

“Well yes, that’s kind of the desired outcome. If I know your siblings, your brainy brother will follow the clues, and soon he and the biting brat will have wandered right into my clutches!”

“I wouldn’t count on it- we’ve outsmarted you every time, and we will do it again!”

“Oh, I don’t think you will outsmart me, not this time.” 

He produced a tray full of surgical knives and drills then, laying it across her knees. They all looked horrifying… though, there was one small scalpel near the edge, if she could just get hold of that somehow, then maybe…

“Have you ever hunted, Violet?” Olaf asked, again sounding far too casual.

“Of course not,” she replied. 

“Well, if you had, you’d be familiar with a particular experience. There’s a particular moment, at the end of a long hunt, when you have the animal cornered.” As he was talking, he picked up one of the sharpest knives, examining it, before doing the same with one of the drills. “The animal looks into them, to see if there’s any mercy in there. And when it sees that there is not… it gives up. It gives its life to you.”

Violet could see where this analogy was going even before he went ahead and spelled it out. There’s just one problem, she thought, trying to stay brave, trying to wait and get scared later. I’m not going to give up. Then he leaned over her far too close for comfort. If she hadn’t been handcuffed, she doubted she’d have been able to fight the impulse to attack… which, probably, was the whole point of the handcuffs in the first place.

“Well, I have you cornered, Violet, and I have no mercy,” he hissed. I’m not giving up, though, I’m not, I’m not, she thought. “Soon enough, your siblings will fall into my trap. And when they do, I won’t be satisfied with just your fortune. This time, I will obliterate you and the entire Baudelaire line in the cruelest way imaginable!” he paused, then, and actually had the nerve to smile. “Won’t that be fun?”

Just then, Esmé spoke up. Violet shot a quick glance in her direction, seeing that she’d just poked her head round the door. Olaf, meanwhile, straightened up and turned to face her, giving Violet the moment she needed to grab the scalpel off the tray and slide it underneath her leg and out of sight. 

“Darling, Hooky wasn’t sure if we had the right knife, and I wondered if you wouldn’t mind taking a look at it?”

“That’s no trouble at all, my pet, I’ll be right there.” He turned back to Violet, and glanced at Prospero, who sat on the bed beside her, just as trapped as she was. “You really are far too… prickly, both of you. Not to worry, by the time we’re finished here, that won’t be a problem. I mean, he’ll still be prickly, that’s to be expected- but you’ll be something altogether… separate, if you will. Well, I must be going- a fake doctor’s work is never done. Don’t bother screaming for help, though- in a hospital, screams are perfectly normal. Right, Babs?”

With that, he was finally away, leaving Violet and Prospero alone with the woman from the front desk at the hospital, who was now tied to a chair. Violet barely noticed her at first, though, too busy taking in what Olaf had just said. Something altogether separate… He couldn’t mean… he couldn’t mean what she thought he meant? That was impossible, surely, the bond between human and dæmon was unbreakable, everyone knew that. Regardless, though, it was not something she was going to leave to chance. She had to get out of here, no matter what.

Klaus

So far, going from room to room with the Volunteers Fighting Disease hadn’t brought any results. Well, it had resulted in Klaus wanting to grab the guitar from the bearded volunteer- whose name, he’d by now learned, was Brandon- and smash it against the wall if it would only put a stop to the group’s ridiculous song, but that wasn’t very helpful.

“Time waste,” Sunny said, finally.

“You’re right, this really isn’t a very good use of our time.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“Okay, we’re gonna have to sit down at some point and decide when you actually are allowed to use that word and when you aren’t. In the meantime, we have to focus on finding Violet.”

“Time for food bake?” she asked, pointing to a door labelled Break Room. 

Klaus didn’t know if there would be any food in there, but maybe taking a couple minutes break would be a good idea. They could use it to decide what their next move was. Klaus opened the door to reveal a room containing several bunk beds, coat stands containing lab coats, and a table with a couple of medical textbooks on it. 

“This is a break room for doctors,” grumbled a man who was lying on one of the top bunks, but who (thankfully) didn’t seem to recognise them.

“I wish we were doctors,” Klaus said. “Then we could search this hospital.”

“You could pass,” Sunny pointed out. “Wear coat, look old, nobody would know.”

“That’s a good point. If Olaf can fool people using disguises, then maybe we can, too.”

He gathered supplies- a spare lab coat, bandages he could use to tie Sunny to his front, a fake beard he could use to look like an adult. Even Lizzie could fit in with the look- quite a few of the doctors here had owls and snakes as dæmons, animals which represented wisdom and intelligence. He’d fit right in with Lizzie perched on his arm. 

Then he put it all together- beard first, then Sunny, then the coat. The idea was that Sunny would stay under the coat, keeping her out of sight, since realistically she had far less chance of passing for an adult than Klaus did. At best, she could maybe pass for an especially cranky, weirdly intelligent five-year-old, but that wasn’t what they needed right now. 

“I feel like I have butterflies in my stomach, not just a toddler strapped to it,” he said, once the disguise was almost complete. “How are you doing down there?”

“Feels weird. But it will do.”

“Right then, let’s hope this works,” he replied.

Violet

It turned out that the bonds attaching her to the bed were made from bandages, making it fairly easy to slip the blade of the scalpel through them and get her hands loose. From there, she was able to free her ankles, and get off the bed. Prospero climbed up onto her shoulder, curling in close to the side of her neck. Violet let him, too worried about the implications of what Olaf had said to be willing to let Prospero out of her sight any time soon. They were in this together, always, and nothing was going to change that.

She needed to think of the best plan for escape- and it looked like she’d have to enlist the help of Babs, who looked to be on the verge of a complete nervous breakdown. Reaching into her pocket, she produced her final hair ribbon, and quickly tied her hair up.

“That’s better,” she said, and went to free Babs, who promptly let out a scream once her gag was away.

“Shush!” Violet hissed. “Listen, I am gonna get us both out of this place, but you have to be quiet and do as I say. Do you understand?” Babs nodded. “Right, I’m gonna untie you now, but you have to stay still, okay?” Babs started to laugh, then, and Violet rolled her eyes. “Why are you laughing?” 

“Sorry! Sometimes I laugh when I’m very, very frightened.” She laughed again. “I hate hospitals, I always have. They’re the scariest places on Earth!”

“If you hate hospitals so much, then why do you work in one?”

“Well, I wanted to work for the post office, but everyone said that was an unrealistic pipe dream.”

Violet sighed, but didn’t otherwise respond. Once she’d finished freeing Babs, she pulled her ribbon out and went to put it back in her pocket, then led her out of the room. Even the woman’s dæmon seemed nervous, whining and whimpering like a real dog. A very tiny part of her wanted to just leave Babs in the room with the striped paper, but that seemed far too cruel- and besides, Babs knew this hospital better than she did. If anyone would know how to get out of here, it would be her.

“I have to find my siblings, and get away from Olaf,” she said, peering round a corner. “What’s the fastest way out of this hospital?”

“There is no fast way,” Babs replied, and Violet could barely suppress her groan. “First, you have to file the release papers in quadruplicate, and then those have to be authorised.” Violet pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I mean, where’s the nearest exit?” she asked. She really didn’t want to sound rude, but she also really didn’t have a lot of time to waste, not if she wanted to get out of here in one piece.

“Just take a left at the next hall, the exit’s that way,” Babs replied.

They started making their way along the dim corridor. Violet really wanted to take the stupid gown off, it made her feel very conspicuous. Then again, she probably blended in a bit more than she would without it- the picture of her in the paper showed her in her yellow blouse and pink overalls, so anyone who’d seen that picture would know to look for a girl in that outfit. What she really needed was a proper disguise. Just then, she heard footsteps from somewhere behind them. It was hard to say how far behind they were, but it was enough to make her nervous. Spying a break room, she opened the door and ducked inside, tugging Babs in after her.

“I think there’s someone coming. If we disguise ourselves as doctors, we can roam around a lot more freely- that’s what Klaus would do.” She grabbed two medical coats, and handed one to Babs. Then she grabbed a couple of pencils from the table, thinking she might be able to use them to put her hair up. It would be less distinct than her ribbon, but would serve a similar purpose.

“Are you suggesting that we pretend to have medical degrees that we don’t actually have?” Babs asked, laughing nervously, and a bit too loudly.

“You have to be quiet,” Violet replied.

“Sorry, I’m just so nervous!”

“Well get your shit together, you’re calling attention to us.”

“Let me sleep, I’m on a break!” groaned a doctor from the top bunk. Violet groaned- this just kept getting better and better, didn’t it? 

“I’ve never faked anything in my life!” Babs said. “The very thought is preposterous, it’s unthinkable… it’s exhilarating! Yes, let’s do it!”

“Great. Now will you please put the coat on and shut up?” Normally, she wouldn’t talk to an adult like this, but she was so ready to get away from this wretched place that for once, her manners deserted her.

“By gum, I want to live!” Babs exclaimed, and Violet wanted to scream. Then she heard an all-too-familiar voice behind her, and she wanted to scream for an entirely different reason.

“Well, that’s a shame,” Olaf said, glaring at them both. “We don’t always get what we want, do we?”

Violet was dragged back into the same room she’d left- this time, though, Esmé was there, along with Olaf’s whole disreputable troupe. She was shoved back onto the bed, only this time, she was strapped down, with leather straps held in place with buckles. The dark-haired henchperson had been given this task, while the hook-handed man stood close by them, presumably to make sure she didn’t try anything.

“Do you still think you can outsmart me?” Olaf asked.

“Where’s Babs?” As annoyed as she’d been by the woman, her absence was troubling- especially considering what had happened to so many other adults that had dared to associate with Violet and her siblings.

“You were such a bad influence on her, we had to separate you two,” he replied.

“And you may as well get used to being alone now,” Esmé added. “Because all it’ll take is one little cut, and you’ll be utterly alone, forever.” 

“No, no, you can’t! You can’t!” She tried to get her hands free, to reach for Prospero, but it was impossible. "Prospero!" she shouted. "Prospero!"

"Violet!" a familiar voice came from the bed beside her, just out of reach of her trapped hands.

“Yes, we can,” Olaf replied. “I hadn’t believed it was possible either, but it is. We’d planned to get rid of you a bit more… permanently, as it were, but this way, you are still alive, you’re just a bit more… pliable, more likely to give us anything we want.”

“This seems a bit-” the henchperson began, but before they could finish, the white-faced women came in, dragging a large machine between them.

“We found the anaesthesia machine!” one said.

“This makes me see coloured bubbles!” the other added, breathing in some of the gas from the machine. Esmé groaned, and snatched the face mask off her, and went to clamp it over Violet’s face instead.

“One moment,” Olaf said. “We need some way to carry that spiky little beast until it’s time for the surgery.”

He produced a small cage and placed it on the bedside cabinet. Violet turned her head to look at it, horror dawning as she realised what it was for- who it was for. The hook-handed man unwound his crocodile-daemon from where she was wrapped around his shoulders, and held onto her.

“Do you want me to take him?” she asked, her scaly head dipping to where Violet assumed Prospero was stuck. 

“No, no, don’t bother,” Olaf replied. 

Then he reached over and lifted Prospero from the bed himself. Violet felt completely frozen, too horrified to move, even if she hadn’t been strapped down. She felt sick, she felt faint, she felt… wrong, just utterly wrong , there was no other way to put it. Unable to get away, to get Prospero back where he belonged, she was so utterly overwhelmed… Then everything went black.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Four: In Which Dr. Faustus Looks For A Patient

Klaus

By the time they slipped out of the break room, the Volunteers Fighting Disease were on their way, skipping down the hall without a care in the world and singing their song. They mentioned something about a list- and Klaus did remember they’d been carrying one earlier.

“List look?” Sunny suggested.

“Yeah- maybe we can get them to let us see their copy of the patient list,” Klaus replied. The Volunteers skipped along past them then, and Klaus approached Brandon, thinking he could test out how effective his disguise was while he was getting the list.

“Excuse me, sir,” he said, putting on a deep voice and a false English accent. “May I speak to you for a moment?”

“Yeah, of course! What’s up, doc?” Brandon replied.

“I appear to have misplaced my patient list, and I was wondering if I could have a look at yours.”

“I don’t know, the patient lists are precious! We only get one copy, every morning from- Oh, hello, other doctor!” he exclaimed.

Klaus turned, to see Olaf coming down the other end of the corridor towards them. Sunny tugged at her bandages a bit, like she was trying to get loose, which would be risky enough under any circumstances, least of all when they were meant to be in disguise. Thankfully, though, she didn’t have much luck.

“Yes?” Olaf replied, frowning at the group. This would be the real test, Klaus thought- they always saw through Olaf’s disguises, would he see through theirs?

“Perhaps you can help this first doctor I was talking to?” Brandon suggested, his lark-dæmon tweeting in agreement.

“How may I be of service?”

“He lost his patient list, so he can’t find his patients.”

“Is that so?” Olaf peered at Klaus a little more closely. “You look very familiar,” he remarked. “What is your name, Doctor?”

“My name is Dr. Faustus,” Klaus replied, glad that at the very least he was better at improvising an alias than his adversary was.

“Dr. Faustus?” Olaf asked, sounding a little skeptical. Klaus nodded.

“Dr. Faustus, MD."

“You look terribly young to be a doctor. Where exactly did you attend medical school, Dr. Faustus?”

“Oh, Oxford, obviously.”

“Oxford,” Olaf repeated, one side of his eyebrow going up. “Sounds made up.”

Bold words coming from a man going around telling everyone his last name is “Medical-School,” Klaus thought. Clearing his throat, he spied the clipboard Olaf carried, and pointed to it.

“Dr. Medical-School, may I have a peek at your patient list for a moment?” he asked.

“I’ll tell you what, why don’t you follow me back to my otherwise deserted office, and I can make you a copy there?” He reached out and poked the lump Sunny made under Klaus’s medical coat. “It certainly looks like you could use the exercise.”

Wow, that doesn’t sound threatening or sinister at all, Klaus thought, worried that this meant that Olaf might be on to them after all. Could he tell it was Klaus under the beard? Did he smell a rat at seeing an unfamiliar doctor wandering around? Did he recognise Lizzie? Whatever it was, Klaus couldn't let the anxiety he felt stop him. He had to stay focused, stay in character.

“There’s really no time to lose, I have a patient in quite urgent need of medicine.” He pointed to the Volunteers gathered behind them. “And, of course, you wouldn't want all of these witnesses to know that you let a patient die on your watch, now, would you, Dr. Medical-School?”

“You both seem pretty legit to me,” Brandon said. “You’re both wearing medical coats and everything.”

“Just a quick glance,” Klaus said. Olaf flipped the list over once, before lowering it, so Klaus only just got to see the words Patient List before the paper was away again.

“There, I saved a life today,” he said, and started walking away down the corridor, through the crowd of Volunteers. “Please, hold the applause, I’m just doing my job.” He paused, apparently in consideration. “Well, you could applaud a bit.” The Volunteers did as they were asked.

“The camaraderie at this hospital is really inspiring,” Brandon said, once Olaf was away.

Klaus just nodded, too frustrated to come up with a response. Now what were they going to do?

Sunny

After Olaf had left, the Volunteers followed after, singing their silly song. Sunny didn’t have the best view of what was going on- there was a couple of little gaps in the front of Klaus’s coat, between the buttons, and those were her only real window- but she could still hear everything that was going on. And she wasn’t just here to hang from Klaus’s front, she could- and had- managed to do something useful.

“Now we’ll never get our hands on that list,” Klaus grumbled, talking in his normal voice again.

“Says who?” Sunny asked, poking her hand out through the coat, holding out the slightly crumpled patient list she’d managed to snatch.

“Sunny, you are amazing.”

“I know!”

Klaus ducked into a break room, and once they saw it was empty, he took the coat and beard off and untied Sunny from the bandages. While he looked over the patient list, Sunny clambered up onto a chair and sat down, playing with one of the straps on her shoe while she waited.

“She’s not here,” Klaus said, after a minute. “How can we find her if her name isn’t on the list?”

“No suppise,” Sunny replied. I’m not surprised she’s not on the list. “No real name- maybe fake name?”

She hadn’t expected Olaf to actually put her sister’s name on the list- even if the newspapers hadn’t used their proper first names, if someone saw the name Baudelaire, they’d know something was up. And not even Olaf was stupid enough to make a mistake like that.

“Good thinking- Count Olaf often uses a ridiculous fake name, it makes sense if he’d use one here too.” He frowned. “Wait, that makes me think of that note we looked at earlier, the Al Funcoot one.”

Sunny nodded, remembering the note he meant. Violet had said that Al Funcoot was an anagram- and that Ana Gram was a word, not a name. But neither of them had actually explained what an anagram was.

“Anagram?” she asked, hoping that Klaus would explain.

“An anagram is a word that’s created by rearranging letters in a different word. So if you were to rearrange the letters in the name Al Funcoot…”

He paused, and grabbed a tub of something from one of the shelves. Then he dumped the contents out onto the table, and Sunny could see that it was a bunch of noodles shaped like little letters. He arranged several of these in a row, and carefully shuffled them around, until they spelled two words that were familiar even to Sunny’s inexperienced eyes: Count Olaf.

“Yikes,” she said.

“Yikes is right,” Klaus replied. “Olaf uses anagrams when he wants to hide something, and right now he’s trying to hide our sister. So, if we find the anagram, we find Violet.”

Klaus started looking through the list again, shuffling the noodle letters around. Sunny knew there wasn’t much she could do to help here- she couldn't even spell Baudelaire, never mind be able to spy the letters that made it up in another name. So instead she explored the room around them, taking particular interest in the shelves.

She tried one of the spare noodles, and very quickly regretted it- it was plain, and kind of unpleasant to taste. Maybe there was some way to make it better, though? Maybe if she cooked it, and put some kind of sauce with it… yeah, that would work.

There wasn’t any kind of sauce, though, or anything she could really use to cook with. Instead, there were a few more boxes of noodle letters, boxes of various things like pens and books, and, strangely enough, a small blue and white bowl tucked away on a shelf. There was a flower painted on the front, two curved handles on the sides, and a small lid on the top. Sunny was about to ask Klaus what he thought it was, when he spoke again.

“This is taking too long- there’s too many names.”

Sunny wandered over, and looked at some of the letters he’d gathered together. She studied them for a moment, before pointing to one in particular, the letter V. She couldn't think of any other people who had a V in their name, so that would probably cut a lot of names out of the list.

“You’re right, we can eliminate any name that doesn’t have a V in it,” Klaus said. “And we know Violet Baudelaire has sixteen letters in it. We have to find her before Count Olaf does something horrible.”

Unless he already has, Sunny thought. She instantly dismissed it, though, she didn’t want to think for a second that any bad thing could happen to her sister. They had to rescue Violet, and they would. They’d get her back all in one piece, they had to.

“Wait, wait, look at this name,” Klaus said, distracting her from her thoughts and pointing to another name he’d arranged out of the noodle letters. “Laura V Bleediotie.” He shuffled the letters around, to spell out another name Sunny recognised. “Rearrange the letters, and you get Violet Baudelaire.” He checked the list, and Sunny stared at the letters. So that was how you spelled Baudelaire! “It says she’s in Room 922, in the Surgery Ward,” Klaus said. “Let’s go before it’s too late.”

They got back into their disguise, and Sunny hoped very much that after this, they wouldn't have to do anything like this again.

“We’ve got this, okay? We’re gonna be just fine.”

“Solo,” she replied, by which she meant, I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

Klaus

Once again, Klaus ducked back out of the break room and into the dim corridor. This time, there wasn’t any Volunteers making their way in either direction, though he did spy the white-faced women going past. Quickly, he used the patient list to hide his face, but neither of the women seemed to notice them.

“It smells like disinfectant in here,” one said.

“I know, I’m hungry too!” added the other.

Not for the first time, Klaus wondered just how Olaf had managed to attract such bizarre characters to work for him. He could get why the bald man or to some extent the hook-handed man worked for him- they seemed like pretty typical villainous henchmen. But where the white-faced women- or for that matter the dark-haired henchperson- had come from, he had no idea. Whatever the reason was, though, it hardly mattered. Once they got away from this place and found whichever of their parents had survived, then they’d never have to deal with Olaf or his minions ever again.

When Klaus reached Room 922, he did fully expect to see Violet there. Maybe she’d be tied down or knocked out, but she’d at least be there. Instead, the room, with its black and white wallpaper he’d spied in a few other patient's rooms, was empty.

“She’s not here, Sunny,” he said, trying really hard not to panic.

“Who’s not here?” a familiar voice behind him asked- an English accent far more consistent than anything he’d managed so far, presumably because, unlike his, it wasn’t fake. “Doctor?” Esmé Squalor added.

“Do you know what happened to the patient that was in this room?” he asked, slipping into his Dr. Faustus voice and turning to face the villainous woman.

“Oh, do you mean the ugly, prickly little girl with the big mouth?” Esmé asked. “She’s being prepped for surgery as we speak.”

“Surgery?” Klaus tried not to let his shock at that idea show.

“Yes, so it would seem you’re just in time.”

As if to confirm her statement, Olaf’s voice came over the intercom, and his words filled Klaus with a whole new sense of dread.

“Paging Dr. Faustus,” he said. “You are desperately needed in the operating theatre. In precisely five minutes, we will be performing this hospital’s first ever intercision surgery on a teenage girl!”

“In...intercision?” Klaus asked, barely retaining his accent. “But that only refers to…” No, no, that couldn't be the plan, that was too horrible even for Olaf.

“If you know what the operation refers to,” Esmé remarked, “You must be a very fine doctor indeed. Let’s find out just how good you are, shall we?”

She led Klaus out of the room, presumably away to the operating theatre. This wasn’t happening, this could not be happening. They couldn't seriously be planning to… No, he wouldn't believe it. Nobody could be capable of thinking of something so vile. He refused to believe it.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Five: In Which Klaus Stalls For Time

Klaus

Esmé guided them down the corridor, eventually drawing a knife from her pocket and holding it up in front of Klaus’s face, a little too close for comfort. The blade of the knife was long, and made out of a strange, silvery material. Manganese-titanium alloy, Klaus realised. So this was really happening.

“If you’re wondering about my enormous, terrifying knife, the answer is, yes, it’s incredibly sharp. Sharp enough to cut through anything- any material, any bond, anything.”

Klaus noticed that Sacchario was staying well clear of the blade, perhaps wary that if Esmé wasn’t careful, she could sever a bond she wasn’t intending to sever. He wanted to keep far away from it, too- its presence, and what it was being intended for, were both so very wrong.

“Impressive,” he said, trying not to let his revulsion show.

“Butterflies in your stomach, Dr. Faustus?” Esmé asked, opening the elevator and ushering him inside. “Don’t worry. This is going to be fun.”

When they reached the operating theatre, Klaus was horrified to see that the rows of tiered seats lining the large round room were full of people, all of whom were presumably here to watch the show. How could anyone be okay seeing this? Did they just not know what intercision was and wanted to find out?

Worse than all these spectators, though, was what lay in the middle of the room. Two wire mesh cages, side by side, sat on top of a gurney. In one was Prospero, in the other, Violet. Both were curled up into tight balls- and even from here, Klaus could see that the second cage was only just big enough for Violet. The cages were attached at the side, and at the top of this divide was a slot where, with a jolt, Klaus realised he was meant to put the knife. They wanted him to sever Violet and Prospero by hand. The realisation was enough to make him want to turn and run straight back out of the room.

This is not happening, it’s not, it’s not happening! He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing that he could be anywhere but here, that this was all a bad dream. But it wasn’t, as much as he wanted it to be. He opened his eyes, seeing that everything was just as it had been. I want to go home, he thought desperately. Someone get me out of here, I want to go home! But nobody was coming, nobody was going to fix this. He had to fix it himself.

“The show is about to begin,” announced the hook-handed man. “Everyone, please find your places and silence all mechanical devices.”

“Ah, Dr. Faustus!” Olaf called, from where he stood at the top of one of the stairways which ran between the sections of seats. “I have been eagerly awaiting you, and so has our little sleeping beauty here,” he continued, gesturing to the mesh cage containing Violet. “Well, hurry along, Dr. Faustus- the anaesthesia won’t last forever.”

“Don’t forget this,” Esmé added, pushing the knife into his hands. “You’ll need it. I do hope she doesn’t wake up in the middle of the operation.” She gave Klaus a little shove, and he reluctantly moved closer to the cages.

“Doctors, nurses, Volunteers Fighting Disease, gore fans, regular people, welcome to the operating theatre of Heimlich Hospital!” Olaf announced. “I am Dr. Mattathias Medical-School, and these are my associates!” He gestured to the troupe, who introduced themselves accordingly.

“Dr. Greavesly,” the hook-handed man said.

“Dr. Flacutono,” the bald man said.

“Nurse Flo,” one white-faced woman said.

“Nurse Glo,” the other said.

“Nurse Cartwright,” the dark-haired henchperson said.

“And I am Nurse Veronica Emily Jolie-” Esmé began, before Olaf cut her off.

“And, of course, the man who will be performing the operation, the marvellous Dr. Faustus. As some of you may already know, intercision is a procedure in which a person is separated from their dæmon- and it is a procedure best performed on the young. Scientists have found that young people these days are far more difficult to control than ever before, leading them to reckless behaviour such as vandalism, theft and deception. Therefore, the best thing to do for the child is to sever the dæmon, which will have the effect of making them far calmer, quieter and more manageable all around. Now, an intercision is as dangerous as it is necessary. There is a chance that the patient may tragically die during the operation, leaving their enormous fortune up for grabs. But sometimes we make sacrifices in the name of advancement. Isn't that so, Dr. Faustus?”

Klaus took a deep breath, and angled himself away from Olaf and Esmé, before glancing down to where Sunny was tied beneath his coat.

“What do we do?” he whispered.

“Stall,” she said, simply.

Klaus nodded, an idea taking root in his mind. Over the years, he’d read an enormous number of books, and as a result, he knew a lot of information that was probably not ever going to be useful. However, every so often- and more and more frequently since the children had first met Olaf- he had the opportunity to put that obscure knowledge to good use. This was one such opportunity.

“Before I begin this process,” Klaus said, in his Dr. Faustus voice, “I think I should go a little further into explaining the equipment that I am going to be using.”

In this instance, he actually had two pieces of reading which would come in handy- one on the history of knives, the other on the history of intercision. He would start with the knives, and move onto intercision if necessary.

“This is a knife,” he said, holding up the manganese-titanium blade for everyone to see.

“We know it’s a knife,” Olaf snapped. “Now let’s see you use it!”

“Any real doctor would never perform a procedure without explaining everything first,” Klaus said, tilting his head to one side as though confused at Olaf’s negligence of this. “And we are both real doctors, aren’t we?”

“Fine, fine, just keep it short, Doctor.”

Oh, you asked the wrong guy if you want a succinct explanation, he thought. Taking care not to touch the actual blade, Klaus made his way over to the mesh cages, looking to see if there was some way he could unlock them without Olaf or Esmé noticing.

“The knife is the oldest surgical tool in the world,” he began, leaning against the door of Prospero’s cage. If he could at least get that open, it would be a start. “Early knives have been found in Mayan tombs, Egyptian temples…” With his free hand, he undid the bottom catch on the cage door. “There are many different types of knife, which I am going to list for you right now.”

“This is very interesting!” someone from the audience called- Brandon, maybe? Klaus was too keyed up to focus much on individual people who weren’t of immediate importance to the situation.

“There’s the pen knife, the pocket knife, the butter knife…” As casually as he could, he wandered over to Violet’s cage, undoing the bottom clasp on the door as well. If he could just get the top clasps, and wake his sister up, then they could get out of here.

“What a lengthy explanation, but it’s time for the main event!” Olaf cut him off.

“Yes, I’m sure that all these lovely people will understand the process much better once the dæmon has been severed,” Esmé added.

“Yeah! Cut them apart!” cried one of the Volunteers, a blonde woman who always seemed to be smiling. “Do it!” she said. “Do it, do it, do it!”

Before long, the whole crowd was chanting along with her. Klaus looked around, growing more and more frantic. There had to be something else, some other way they could stop this despicable operation from happening. Wait- there was something they could do. They could use this hospital’s fixations to their advantage, and thus buy themselves more time.

“Wait!” he shouted. “Wait, I cannot perform this operation!”

“Why not?” Olaf asked, his salamander-dæmon glaring at Klaus, as if to say, Oh for fuck’s sake, what is it now?

“There is one thing to be done, the most important thing that we do here at Heimlich Hospital.”

“And what might that be?”

“Paperwork!” he replied, and the crowd let out a collective gasp. “We haven’t done the paperwork!”

“Yes, of course!” one of the nurses exclaimed. “Quick, someone should call Hal!”

“I will!” said the blonde volunteer, with the same level of enthusiasm she seemed to apply to everything else. “I’ll go get him right now!”

“Just a brief pause, ladies and gentlemen!” Olaf informed the crowd. “A minor interruption, nothing more!”

“You may have found a way to stall,” Esmé hissed, leaning in so only Klaus could hear her. “But sooner or later, the show will go on, and there will be blood.” She paused, considering something. “Unless…”

“Unless?” Klaus asked.

“Unless you give me what I want,” she replied. “We can stop this whole operation right now, but only if you give me the item that you stole from the Library of Records last night.”

The Snicket File, Klaus realised. That had to be what she was after- it certainly matched the description she’d given last night, something that was small, round and full of secrets. But if he handed that over, then she and Olaf would find out that one of their parents had survived- not to mention they’d learn everything else Jacques had been about to say on that tape, that Klaus and his sisters hadn’t had a chance to learn. What other choice did they have, though? It was the tape or Violet, and when he thought about it like that, it was really a no-brainer.

“If it will save Violet, then you can have it,” he said, drawing the tape out of his pocket and handing it to Esmé.

“Oh, at last!” she exclaimed, clutching the tape close. Then she frowned, like she’d realised something wasn’t quite right. “Wait, this isn’t the sugar bowl!”

“The sugar bowl?” Klaus asked, genuinely confused. What could be so important about a sugar bowl?

“Let me see that,” Olaf said, taking the tape from Esmé’s hands. “This is the Snicket file,” he continued, frowning down at the tape- though his dæmon perked her head up, looking almost hopeful.

“That’s right, now will you let Violet and Prospero go?” Klaus asked.

Olaf was quiet for a moment, like he was giving the matter genuine consideration. Then he shoved the file into his pocket and turned his attention back to the crowd.

“It has come to my attention that this man is an imposter!” he announced, pointing at Klaus. “He is not a doctor at all, he is in fact two children, neither of which has graduated from medical school!”

He ripped open Klaus’s medical coat, released Sunny from the bandages and tore Klaus’s fake beard away, exposing their disguise as easily as they had exposed his on so many past occasions. Now, though, it seemed the tables were turned.

“Oh my gosh, it’s those Baudelaires!” Olaf cried.

“Hiya!” Sunny said, waving to the crowd.

“Sunny, this is serious,” Klaus hissed.

“The same Baudelaires from the papers? The one that killed that guy?” one of the doctors asked.

“They didn’t just kill some guy,” Olaf replied. “They killed Count Olaf, the very handsome actor!”

“Is this really the time?” Klaus snapped. “And anyway, we didn’t kill anybody! These people are the real criminals- they kidnapped my sister and stuffed her in a box so they could sever her dæmon!”

“They did what?” Violet asked, groggily. “Wait, what am I doing in here? Where’s Prospero?”

“I’m right here, Violet,” Prospero replied, equally groggily.

With both of them awake, Klaus dropped the knife and finished unlocking the cage door, and helped Violet out. She reached into the other cage and grabbed Prospero, holding him close with one hand and leaning heavily against the cages with the other.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Esmé exclaimed. “You were the one holding the knife!”

“That’s a good point,” Brandon said. “Besides- if you guys weren’t up to something, why would you disguise yourselves in the first place? If you were proper Volunteers, you wouldn't have to do that.”

“I think I can explain that,” a voice from the top of another one of the staircases said. Hal stood at the top, next to the blonde volunteer, who was still smiling.

“Hal, we’re glad to see you,” Klaus said.

“Well, I would say I’m glad to see you too but that would be a lie, both because I can’t see very well and because I’m not especially glad. I thought for sure that you three would’ve snuck away after your prolonged and treacherous vandalism!”

“Vandalism? That’s terrible!” Brandon exclaimed.

“It was terrible!” Hal agreed. “These three Baudelaire murderers pretended to be volunteers, and they made a fake key ring and switched it for the real one, so that they could break into the Library of Records and destroy any files about their crimes.” He paused, shaking his head at the Baudelaires. “I thought you were my friends!”

“We didn’t mean to destroy anything,” Klaus replied. “I’m truly sorry that we tricked you, and I am so sorry about your library, but we’re not the real criminals here! The real criminals are…” He looked around, realising that there was someone missing from the operating theatre. “Where is Count Olaf?”

But Olaf was nowhere to be seen.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Six: In Which The Hospital Catches On Fire

Sunny

This was not going very well at all. At first it hadn’t been too bad- Klaus had managed to stall for time, and had started opening up the metal boxes where Violet and Prospero had been stashed. Then he’d given Esmé the video file they’d taken from the library the other night, the one where Mr. Snicket had revealed that one of their parents had survived, and since then nothing had gone right at all.

“Attention!” Olaf’s voice announced over the loudspeakers, which just made everything worse. “This is Dr. Mattathias Medical-School, with some very important news! A terrible fire has broken out in the Heimlich Hospital! The fire was set in the Library of Records by the Baudelaire murderers. Please arrest them and bring them to me!” He paused, and added, almost as an afterthought: “Oh, and you might want to evacuate the building, or move the patients, or something. Thank you.”

The room burst into worried confusion, as everybody looked at Sunny and her siblings. Surely nobody really thought they’d started the fire? Sunny didn’t even know how to start a fire, Violet was barely standing and Klaus was right there in the theatre.

“We couldn't have started that fire!” Klaus pointed out. “We’ve been in this theatre the entire time!”

“Surround them!” shouted somebody in the crowd. “Capture those Baudelaires!”

Klaus sighed, and knocked the two metal boxes off the hospital bed. Then he helped Violet up onto the bed, lifting Sunny up after her. Sunny sat at the front of the bed, while Violet sat behind her, hugging her knees to her chest. She still didn’t look okay, not even a little bit, and Sunny hoped that whatever the problem was, she would recover and be fine again soon.

“Let’s get out of here, now!” Klaus said, starting to push the bed away from the stage and back out of the theatre. Hal stopped them, though, one hand gripping tightly to the railing on the bed. “Hal, please,” Klaus said, looking up at the librarian.

“You destroyed my library,” Hal replied.

Sunny sighed, realising that the only way out was to put her oldest talent to use. Everyone has to take a turn, she thought. Everyone has to take a turn at doing the scary thing. Violet took her turn in the library, Klaus took his turn in the theatre. Now it’s your turn, Sunny. She leaned forward and bit down on Hal’s hand, not hard enough to make it bleed, but hard enough that Hal at least let go.

“The baby bit me!” he hissed.

There was no time to stick around and say sorry, though- they had to get out of the hospital before it burned down.

Klaus

Before anyone else could move to stop them, Klaus took hold of the gurney railings and rolled it out of the theatre, using it to burst open the doors. He paused to shove a mop between the handles of the door, hoping that this would, at the very least, delay the mob that would inevitably be coming after them.

“Don’t let those Baudelaires get away!” shouted the hook-handed man.

“Well, so much for the mop,” Lizzie muttered, her head spun round so she could see behind them.

“It was worth a try,” Klaus replied. “Violet, we’re in trouble.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Violet said, her voice a bit slurred, presumably a side effect of the knock-out gas.

“The hospital is burning down, it really is a shame!” sang the Volunteers, who also seemed to be in the crowd chasing them. Great, that was all they needed. “And the worst part is the Baudelaires are totally to blame!”

“Thanks, guys,” Klaus muttered. “Nice to have your support.”

“That way!” Sunny said, pointing in the direction of the Ward For People With Nasty Rashes.

There was a break room in there, and Klaus brought the gurney to a stop beside it, helping his sisters down from it and ushering them inside the room, locking the door behind them. He had no idea how fast the fire was spreading, or how far behind the crowd was, but that hardly mattered. They had to move fast, while they still had time to play with.

Violet slumped down in one corner of the break room, clutching tightly to Prospero. Klaus couldn't blame her- he couldn't begin to imagine how horrible it must be to know you’d come so close to having your soul cut away like that. But there would be time to grapple with the horror later- right now, they had to move.

“Violet, come on, we need your help,” he said, standing in front of her. “The hospital is on fire, we have to get out.”

He held out a hand to help her up. When she took it, he saw that there were pinpricks all over her hands from Prospero’s spines, and most of them were bleeding.

“Violet!” Klaus exclaimed. “Come on, let’s get that cleaned up.”

They had a little time, they could afford to do that. Quickly, he brought her over to a sink in the corner, and turned on the tap. Violet put her hands under the water one at a time, taking care not to release Prospero for even a second. This didn’t bode too well- if they were going to get out of here, they’d need all hands on deck, figuratively and literally.

Once Violet’s wounds had been taken care of, she seemed to wake up a bit more, scanning the tiny room and taking off the hospital gown which covered up her normal clothes. She finally set Prospero in his usual place on her shoulder, though he sat much closer to her neck than usual.

“Okay, how high up are we?” she asked.

Klaus went over to the window, peering down. Night had fallen by now, and there was a great deal of smoke coming from the building, making it hard to accurately judge even if he had been good at that sort of thing.

“I’m not sure- maybe thirty, forty feet? However high it is, it’s too high to jump.” He made his way over to the door, where someone had started knocking. “We can’t go out that way, either, there’s a crowd.” The knocking continued, as if to prove his point.

“Open up in there!” called a voice he recognised as that of the dark-haired henchperson.

“No!” Klaus snapped. There was a pause, then they spoke again.

“Please?” they asked. Klaus wouldn’t even bother dignifying that with a response.

Violet

Violet looked around the room again, trying to get her bearings. Once, when she’d been much younger, someone had told her that they wouldn't be surprised if she could invent something with her hands tied behind her back. And now, while that wasn’t literally the case, it felt as though it might as well be. Her brain was still a bit foggy from the anaesthesia- though she didn’t remember being giving the gas, she didn’t remember much of anything after… after… she didn’t want to think about that right now. Not only that, her limbs were still sore from being put into that box, and she now had bandages round her hands because they’d bled from gripping so tightly onto Prospero.

She would have to put all of that to one side for now, though, at least until they could get out of the hospital. Though how they were meant to get out of a two-storey building in one piece if they were stuck in this room… She reached into her pocket for her ribbon, but it wasn’t there. It must’ve fallen out back in the room with the striped wallpaper.

“I don’t have my ribbon,” she said. Sunny nodded, and proceeded to tear off a strip from one of the lab coats which were hanging up in the room.

“Here!” she said, handing it over. Violet took it, quickly tying up her hair.

“Thank you, Sunny,” she replied. “I know it’s silly, but it does help.”

With her hair up, the fog in her brain cleared a little, enough for her to take stock of what else was in the room, and see what else could be useful. The solution was obvious, now that she could think about it properly- they’d have to either climb out of the window or jump out. There wasn’t anything she could use to make a rope so they could climb down- unless she wanted to rip up all those lab coats, which they did not have time for. Which left jumping as their only option.

“Grab that surgical tubing,” she told Klaus, pointing to a box of the stuff sitting on one shelf. “Tie it up to make a cord. Then I’ll tie it to the pipe with the Devil’s Tongue knot, so we can break our fall.”

“Is that safe?” Klaus asked, his head tilted to one side, mirroring Lizzie, who sat perched on his arm.

“It’s the safest option we’ve got right now,” she replied, nodding in the direction of the door, where the dark-haired henchperson was still trying to get in. “Besides, people jump from high places on long rubbery cords for fun all the time. We can do it to escape.”

Prospero tucked himself in her overall pocket, and she got to work. Quickly, she tied the tubing to the pipe, before wrapping most of it around her siblings.

“Lizzie, Oliver, you guys should probably be in bird forms, so Klaus and Sunny don’t have to worry about carrying you,” she said.

“Well, that works out for me,” Lizzie said. “Seeing as I’m going to be an owl for the rest of my life.”

Violet looked from the owl-dæmon to her brother, who nodded in confirmation. When had this happened? How had she missed this? It must’ve happened after she’d been taken, it was the only explanation.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay, we can talk about that later, for now, let’s move before they break down the door.”

“Do you think we’ll make it?”

“Depends on how high up we actually are.” She opened the window, gesturing for Klaus to step out onto the ledge, taking Sunny with him.

“We won’t leave you behind again,” he said.

“Ohana!” Sunny agreed, by which she meant, Yeah, we’re family, family doesn’t leave each other behind!

“It’s alright,” Violet replied. “I’ll hold onto you, okay?”

They made their way out the window and onto the ledge outside. Normally, Violet was pretty good at gauging distances- it was a skill that had come in handy when she was freeing Sunny from the tower, and it would come in handy here, but between the darkness and the smoke, it was hard for even her to know how far they had to jump.

“I have butterflies in my stomach,” Klaus said. Violet nodded, and put an arm around her brother, gripping the cord with the other.

“Hold on tight,” she said, praying with all the faith she still had that this would work. And then they jumped.

Klaus

The cord stopped just above the ground, maybe a foot at the absolute most. Klaus and his sisters hovered there for a moment, before Sunny bit through the cord, letting them drop the last little bit to the concrete. Klaus looked up just in time to see the cord fly up and whack the henchperson in the face. He decided he didn’t feel bad about that.

“It worked,” Violet said.

“I never expected otherwise,” Klaus replied.

“Now what?” Sunny asked. Klaus still held her, not daring to set her down in this crowd in case they lost her or she got hurt somehow.

“We act casual,” he replied. “There’ll be some way we can sneak away from here.”

There was an ambulance a few feet away, with the back open and nobody inside. They headed over to it, but had to move away again after two of the doctors wheeled a patient on a gurney into the truck. Not seeing any other options, they ducked down beside the low wall that ran around the edge of the property- or half of it, at least. On the other side of the hospital, someone had stuck several posts into the ground and called it a day.

A few feet away, they could see Olaf’s dark grey car, and make out two figures running towards it, one in white, the other in black- Esmé and the hook-handed man. Esmé threw a handful of lab coats in the trunk, leaving it partly open, and climbed into the car. The hook-handed man, meanwhile, stayed outside, one hook resting on the roof.

“Great, the cops are here,” Violet said, looking to another pair of cars parked in front of the hospital. “And the fire department.”

“They already think we’re murderers, and now they’ll think we’re arsonists. We’re going to need an escape.”

“I think we already have one,” Violet said, pointing to Olaf’s car.

“Are you serious? After what he did to you, you want to hop in the back of his car?”

“You have no idea what he did to me,” she snapped. “And I hope to God you never find out what that was like for yourself. But we can’t wander the Hinterlands, hoping we don’t get captured.”

“But getting into that trunk is getting captured!”

“Only if we get caught,” she pointed out.

“Hooks,” Sunny said, pointing to where the hook-handed man was still standing beside the car.

Normally, the presence of any of Olaf’s henchpeople would be cause for concern. But the hook-handed man seemed entirely occupied with staring into the smoke coming from the hospital, and Klaus suspected that if they moved quickly, they might be able to get past him and into the trunk.

“Get into the car this instant!” Olaf barked “I’m leaving on the count of three! One!”

Just then, the henchperson ran over to the car, and the hook-handed man ushered them inside. The coast was about as clear as it possibly could be- if they were going to go, they had to go now.

“Two!”

“What choice do we have?” Violet whispered, and darted across to the car, climbing into the trunk.

Klaus carried Sunny over and laid her down beside Violet, climbing in on her other side and pulling the trunk closed behind him. They got in just in time, as the main car doors closed and Olaf started to drive away from the hospital.

Sunny

It was dark in the trunk of the car. The only way they could see outside was through a few small holes in the door, and one of these was right in front of Sunny’s eyes. She could only see the starry sky above them, which in a weird way made her feel a bit better, despite everything that had gone on.

She wondered where they were going next, and if it would bring them any closer to Mama or Papa, whoever had survived. Whoever it was, they would make everything okay, Sunny firmly believed that they would.

“I guess we’re still on the lam,” Klaus whispered, eventually.

He didn’t look very comfortable, especially since Lizzie had to lie quite flat in order to fit in the trunk. Sunny wanted to comfort him somehow, but she didn’t know how to do that.

“Yeah, but at least we’re alive, and we’re together,” Violet replied.

Sunny nodded, patting both of her siblings on their arms. It wasn’t much, but it was the best she could do in the cramped space. Violet held her hand, and Klaus kissed the top of her head, and that made her feel better than even the starlight did.

There was no way to know where they were going next, but whatever happened, they’d get there together. Nobody would ever separate them, not ever again.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Seven: In Which The Baudelaires Ride In A Trunk

Violet

Violet didn’t know how long they had been squashed into the trunk of Olaf’s car. She was curled up into a ball, which wasn’t unusual for her, but staying that way for so long was far from comfortable. She was afraid to go to sleep, afraid she’d dreamt her escape and if she drifted off, she’d wake up in that cage, Prospero cut away from her forever.

It didn’t especially help that the car was being driven by a villainous madman who had apparently never heard of the concept of a speed limit, or really any kind of driving safety or etiquette. There was no way anyone could sleep through that, or even feel at ease.

“Darling!” a voice from the front of the car screamed, one Violet recognised as Esmé Squalor’s. “Don’t you think you ought to slow down? You’re driving worse than Kay!”

Violet barely had time to wonder who this “Kay” person was before Olaf drove the car in a harsh zig zag, shaking everybody about, almost like he wanted to get back at his girlfriend for daring to bring this mystery person up, but didn’t know how else to do so without making it everyone else’s problem as well.

As they went back to driving in a straight line, Violet let herself think about something that had happened while they were in the hospital. She refused to let herself engage with what had happened after she’d been captured, but there was something which had happened prior to that, which she would let herself dwell on- the revelation from the Snicket file that there had been a survivor of the Baudelaire fire.

She wondered who it could be. Truth be told, she would be relieved to see either of her parents- to feel her mother hug her, to hear her father call her Ed again. But right at that moment, if she absolutely had to choose, she wanted her mother back. It wasn’t anything against her father, but if Mother was there, she could ease the burden of the promise that had been weighing her down lately, and maybe… maybe she could help her come to terms with the deep sense of shame that had been born in her after… after what had happened before she’d been knocked out.

There wasn’t much use in speculating, though- whoever the survivor was, the important thing was that they would make everything better. They had to. In the meantime, she would focus on more immediate things, like where they were headed.

“Where are we headed?” asked the dark-haired henchperson.

“I thought I told you that we’re going to Caligari Carnival,” Olaf snapped. “God, how are you that dense?”

“I was asleep,” came the reply. “Blame the smoke inhalation.”

Well, that answered that question, at least. Though why they were heading to a carnival of all places was beyond Violet’s present ability to reason.

Klaus

Klaus had no idea how much longer they were going to be on the road, or in the back of Olaf’s car. While they had a destination now, they still had no clue how far away that destination actually was, or how long it would take to get there.

He looked over at his sisters. Sunny was curled into him, though one tiny hand still held onto Violet, and Violet was curled away from them both. That was worrying, to say the least. It felt like a line was being drawn, Violet on one side, him and Sunny on the other, that somehow, whatever had happened during the time they’d been separated had changed things forever.

Maybe finding the survivor, whoever they were, would bring some relief. It was hard to say who he wanted it to be- but admittedly, there was a part of him that wanted it to be his father. He wanted him to see Lizzie, to know that he would’ve been right to keep his first arm guard aside- even if that guard would still be unusable regardless of whether he’d survived or not. And he wanted to tell Father about Duncan, too, even though he knew he may well never see him again.

There was a chance his father would get it- a few times, he had mentioned a male friend he’d had growing up, and while he’d never named him, he did get the same soft smile that he usually only reserved for talking about Mother when the subject came up.

Of course, that was the least of what he would have to bring his father up to speed on if he were the survivor, but it was nice to pretend, if only for a moment, that he was just a normal boy with a normal crush, nervous about telling his normal father about it.

“You think you’ve got problems?” Esmé asked from the front of the car. Klaus hadn’t been paying much attention to the adults’ conversation, but he tuned back in now. “I’m never gonna find the sugar bowl rattling around in the Hinterlands. I’m as miserable as that pack of starving lions we just passed.”

“Well, let’s hope that Madame Lulu can turn things around, or I might just drive this car right off a cliff.”

“Maybe wine will help us relax?” the hook-handed man suggested.

“Yes, Olaf, wine!” agreed one of the white-faced women.

“Get the fruity Merlot from the trunk!” added her sister.

Klaus shot a look at Violet, hoping with everything he had that Olaf would, for once, decline the offer to get drunk. Luck, it seemed, was on his side for a change.

“Drinking and driving? Are you insane? That’s completely reckless.” A pause. “Then again, I am parched.” Another pause. “But it can wait. If this Madame Lulu is real, we'll hunt down the surviving Baudelaires, and then we'll celebrate with all the trunk wine we want. My spirits are lifting already!”

It seemed they were in the clear for now- they just had to hope that would last until they got to the carnival, then they could work out what came next.

Sunny

Sunny did not know where exactly they were going. If she were being completely honest, she didn’t even know what a carnival was, so she had no idea what to expect when they did get there. All she could work out was that there would be a lady named Madame Lulu there, and she wondered what she would be like. Would she be mean and nasty, like Esmé, or would she be nice and kind, like Miss Caliban? If Olaf was going to her for help, though, the first one seemed more likely.

“We’re lucky Olaf decided not to drink and drive,” Violet said.

“And that this trunk has air-holes so we can breath,” Klaus replied.

“We’re lucky we climbed into his car to escape the fire.”

“And that Olaf didn’t sever you from Prospero.”

“We’ve been lucky so far, but soon this car will reach Caligari Carnival. If we don’t want our luck to run out, we have to figure out what to do when we get there.”

“Find Mama and Papa,” Sunny whispered. I know what we’ll do, we’ll find our parents.

“It’s not that simple, Sunny- besides, Jacques said there was only one survivor, remember?” Klaus replied.

Of course Sunny remembered, but that didn’t stop her hoping Mr. Snicket might be wrong somehow. She had never liked choosing favourite people- she didn’t have a favourite sibling, a favourite Quagmire, and certainly not a favourite parent. She wanted them both to be alive, even if that wasn’t very realistic. If Mama was the survivor, then who would tell her funny poems and let her ride around on their shoulders like Papa did? And if it was Papa, who would sing her songs and let her sit in the kitchen and play like Mama did? It didn’t matter who it was, they’d still have lost somebody.

Finally, the car came to a sudden stop. Sunny could hear doors opening and closing, as Olaf, Esmé and the troupe got out of the car. Sunny and her siblings stayed put, though. Hopefully they wouldn't stand around here all day, it was not very comfy in here- and it was probably worse for Violet and Klaus, because they were so very big.

“This carnival doesn’t look very In,” Esmé complained, because of course she’d complain about that. “A rusty roller-coaster and a bunch of tents.”

“Are you sure we’re safe out here, boss?” asked the hook-handed man. “If the police come looking, there’s no place to hide.”

“Why do we have to hide?” Olaf countered. “Nobody's going to come looking for a dead man, and the Daily Punctilio just put my obituary on the front page.”

“What’s that?” Sunny whispered.

“An obituary is a message printed in a newspaper to announce somebody has died,” Klaus explained.

“We have to stay long enough for Madame Lulu to answer all our questions,” Olaf said. “Where the Baudelaires are hiding, whether one of their parents is still alive-”

“You could ask her about the sugar bowl?” suggested the bald man.

Esmé had mentioned a sugar bowl a few times now. The image in Sunny’s mind was a cereal bowl that was full of sugar, and if that was what it was, she hoped that whoever had the bowl had put a cover on it, to avoid getting sugar everywhere. She wondered why it was so important to Esmé, too. Maybe out here, they’d find out.

Violet

Finally, Olaf, Esmé and the troupe walked away from the car. There was a series of swishing sounds, like a tent door opening and closing several times, then there was silence. Tentatively, Violet inched open the trunk door- it hadn’t closed fully due to the lab coats getting in the way- and peered outside.

“Coast is clear,” she said, opening the door fully and helping her siblings out of the trunk.

Quickly, they ducked down beside the car. It wasn’t the best hiding place, but it would do in a pinch. Now they were outside, they could get a proper look at their surroundings. Esmé hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said there hadn’t been much to the carnival besides a rusty roller-coaster and a bunch of tents- though Violet could also see a few caravans scattered in odd locations, and a phone booth with a large “Out Of Order” sign in the door.

The whole area was bathed in a strange blue light, which was when Violet realised where they were. The line of mountains in the distance only confirmed her theory.

“We’re in the Mortmain Mountains,” she said. “Mother and Father promised to take us there someday, remember?”

“Do you think one of them really did survive the fire?” Klaus asked.

“Well, Olaf believes it enough to go and see a fortune-teller.”

“I’ve never read any evidence to suggest that fortune-tellers are real,” Klaus pointed out.

“This might not be an ordinary one, though,” Violet replied, pointing to the stylized eyes which decorated the walls of the fortune-telling tent. “Not if she’s linked to VFD.”

“Do you think that’s a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Either way, we have to find out what she’s telling him now.”

They slipped across to the wall of the tent, moving as silently as they could and keeping low to the ground. As Violet watched how still Lizzie was staying, not daring to flap her wings in case it made a sound, it hit her that, yes, she really had settled. The realisation was sobering, forcing her to acknowledge the reality, that her little brother wasn’t so little any more, and he hadn’t been for some time.

“...Tell me something that only a real fortune-teller would know,” they heard Olaf say, as they settled in beside the tent wall.

“I know that you were brought here by a series of unfortunate events,” replied a female voice. She appeared to be speaking in an indiscernible foreign accent, though there was something underneath that which sounded almost, vaguely, familiar.

“Go on.”

“You adopted three orphans, one of whom you tried to marry, till she literally and figuratively escaped your grasp,” the woman replied. Violet couldn't help tensing at that, even now. “You followed them to the home of a herpetologist who you mostly fooled, then eventually killed.”

“How could you-” Olaf began, but the woman kept going.

You visited a large lake in the off-season, where you had an ill-fated romance that ended in betrayal and leeches. You burned an old flame at an old mill, then returned to school as teacher, where you were underpaid working nights.”

“Egad!”

“You meet a partner in a penthouse, and you murder an old enemy in a murder of crows. A good man. A noble man. His words, they haunt you from beyond the grave, and even hospital visit doesn't make you feel better. You have set fire after fire, but it's never enough, for time flies like a poison dart and the force of destiny cages us all!”

Violet blinked, and shot a look at both of her siblings, who looked just as confused. How could this random woman in the Hinterlands know so much about them? She was slightly reassured by just how… angry the woman had seemed as her speech had gone on, especially after she’d got to describing Jacques’ death. Maybe she was noble, after all. It was hard to tell now, though.

Klaus

Following Madame Lulu’s speech, she and the troupe must’ve moved into a different part of the tent, because it became far harder to decipher their conversation after that. Klaus wanted to move, to keep up with what was being said in case it was relevant, but Violet pointed out that they might inadvertently make some noise and give themselves away.

So, instead, they decided to hide in plain sight, behind a cardboard sign where you could poke your face through and get your picture taken. They did so just in time, just as the hook-handed man emerged from the tent, muttering something about a phone call. He opened up the trunk and awkwardly heaved out a box of wine, carrying it back inside the tent and leaving no question as to how Olaf and his cohorts planned to spend the night.

“It’s uncanny,” Violet said, once he was away. “Madame Lulu knows everything about us.”

“Yeah, but I bet it’s not because of any kind of supernatural means,” Klaus replied.

“Cassandra,” Sunny said, which meant something like, Eh, you never know- it’s probably just easier to believe it’s fake.

“No, I’m pretty confident in saying that fortune-telling isn’t real,” Violet replied. “The point stands, though, that she had to get her information from somewhere. She may know if one of our parents survived.”

“Find out in morning?” Sunny asked.

“We can’t wait until the morning, Sunny,” Klaus replied. “Olaf could spot us any second, to say nothing of the pack of hungry lions roaming around here somewhere.”

“Look over there,” Violet said, pointing to a sign for the carnival’s House Of Freaks. “The House of Freaks is hiring people,” she went on. “If we got jobs, we’d be able to find out what Lulu knows and how.”

“We don’t look anything like carnival freaks,” Klaus pointed out.

“I have an idea.”

She stood up, and led them over to Olaf’s trunk. It was a mess, full of loose clothes and luggage, ranging from expensive suitcases that could only belong to Esmé, to a raggedy old carpet bag that probably belonged to somebody in the troupe. Violet pulled out a make-up kit, and a few other loose items.

“There’s face paint in here, and clothing that’s too big for us. We could disguise ourselves as freaks, and nobody would know the truth.”

It was a risky move, to say the very, very least. But ultimately, what choice did they have? So, Klaus nodded, agreeing that this seemed like the best option, and the three of them got to work.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Eight: In Which The Baudelaires Have A Job Interview

Violet

On paper, the plan was pretty simple. Violet and Klaus were going to disguise themselves as a two-headed person, and Sunny was going to disguise herself as a kind of baby werewolf. There were one or two complications, though. First, while most of the clothing was indeed too big for Violet and Klaus, they weren’t that much smaller than most adults any more, especially Klaus, who was shooting up a bit too fast for Violet’s liking. So it took a bit of trial and error to cobble something convincing together from the clothes they had available.

Sunny was another problem. Once upon a time, they could’ve gotten away with just wrapping her up in Olaf’s fake beard from his Stephano disguise and calling it a day, but she was too big for that now. So, instead, Violet settled for digging out the smallest clothes she could find and gluing bits of the beard round the cuffs of the sleeves, legs and neck, to give the impression of fur. She was surprised by how many random items she found in the trunk, but she wasn’t going to complain, it made her job easier.

Finally, Violet and Klaus were able to put something together, which only left their hair and make-up to sort out. Violet remembered learning how to do some basic scars from their mother, so she was able to give Klaus a couple on his face, and teach him how to put a couple on hers. Then, there was the matter of their hair. She didn’t think anyone would notice if they still had dark hair, since plenty other people did. Still, their respective hairstyles might be recognisable. Klaus found a wig that would make it look like he had longer, shaggier hair, and Violet settled for backcombing hers, to make it look more unruly. Finally, they darkened Sunny’s hair- while it was unlikely anyone would be too suspicious of a dark-haired, two-headed teenager- especially after Klaus had taken his glasses off- if they saw a blonde, sharp-toothed toddler, they were sure to smell a rat, disguise or no disguise.

“Prospero should probably stay hidden,” Klaus suggested. “Since we’re meant to be one body, it makes sense to have one dæmon.”

“I suppose so,” Violet agreed. “Plus, Olaf probably doesn’t know Lizzie’s settled yet, so there’s less of a chance she’d be recognised.”

“What about us?” Sunny asked, pointing between her and Oliver.

“Oliver should ideally stay in his wolf form if he can manage it,” Violet replied. “At least at the times you’re around other people who aren’t us.” She paused, thinking. “Also, do you think you could growl instead of talking? I know you probably wanna practice speaking, but if you’re gonna be half wolf, it’d make more sense to growl.”

“Okay!” Sunny proceeded to growl, trying out a few different sounds before getting one that sounded right.

“We should disguise our voices too,” Klaus suggested. “What’s the best accent you could do?”

“Probably a Southern one,” she said, trying it out. “What about you?”

“Well, I can do a couple, but it’d make more sense if I went Southern too.”

“Got it. Is there anything else we should do now, or are we ready?”

“I think that’s everything.”

“Allons-y!” Sunny said, which meant something like, Let’s go, then!

They made their way over to the tent with the eye. Trying to move in the two-headed disguise was tricky, especially when she effectively had to be their eyes, but after a few paces, they fell into some kind of rhythm. They weren’t walking entirely straight, but the way Violet saw it, that seemed much more likely to add to the effect than hinder anything.

When they reached the tent, there were already two adults standing outside. One was all too familiar, and while the other really ought to be a stranger, Violet couldn't help getting a sense of deja-vu when she saw her. She had long, curly dark hair and a flowy purple gown, and while it was hard to see her dæmon from here, there was something about the tiny, fluttering creature that was vaguely familiar.

“Who, please, are you?” she asked.

“We’re… uh… we’re two freaks,” Violet replied. She focused her attention on the woman, Madame Lulu, she assumed, not trusting herself quite yet to maintain her composure- or her disguised voice- speaking to Olaf as well.

“We saw your ad,” Klaus added. “We’re looking for work.” Reaching over with the hand that was inside the disguise, he took hold of her own hidden hand, giving it a squeeze. You’re doing great, he seemed to be saying. You’ve got this, okay?

“You certainly are hideous, with those two heads,” Olaf said, prompting a growl from Sunny.

“Too late for interview, come back in morning,” Lulu said.

“Nonsense!” Olaf exclaimed. “Auditioning is one of my specialities! Lulu, let me tease… no, torment… Interview these freaks for your carnival show!”

“Fine then,” Lulu replied, holding open the tent door and ushering all of them inside. “This way, please.”

They entered the tent, Violet not letting go of her brother’s hand for a second.

Klaus

Inside the tent, everything was a bit blurry. If Klaus hadn’t already been so familiar with seven out of the eight assembled adults, he probably wouldn't have been able to tell who was supposed to be who. Of course, he’d known this was bound to happen when he temporarily ditched his glasses, but it would still take some getting used to.

The only person he didn’t recognise was Madame Lulu, who existed in his foggy vision as a sort of… tall purple being in the shape of a person. He couldn't make out much of anything about her, other than the dark brown colour of her hair and the small, flitting shape of her dæmon.

“What did you say your names were?” Olaf asked, sitting down. Shit, Klaus thought. I knew there was something we were forgetting.

“We didn’t,” he replied.

“Um, I’m Beverly, and this is my other head, Elliot,” Violet said.

It was lucky she had, because if Klaus had had to improvise their alias, he would probably have come up with something just a bit too obvious. Malina and Louis, perhaps, pulling out their middle names and hoping nobody knew them, or Lilac and Nick, as if nobody would notice he’d just named another purple flower or that Nick was short for Nicholas, a name which, if you took the first couple letters away, would start to sound suspiciously like Klaus.

“It must be difficult, having two heads,” Olaf said.

It was all Klaus could do not to glare at the villain, to pretend like they’d never met and didn’t have anything against each other. Once, this deep feeling of rage might have been scary, and he’d probably be shoving it much further down. But that had been before that night in the Library of Records, before that man had taken his sister and left a girl that was all sharp edges and barely concealed fear. Now everything was different, and it took far more restraint than it normally would to suppress the urge to break character, ditch this stupid disguise and make sure that Olaf never hurt either of his sisters- or him, for that matter- ever again.

“It’s very difficult,” he said, forcing himself to stay in character, at least for the time being. “You can’t imagine how hard it is to find clothes.” That much had certainly proved true, though not due to any inherent birth defects.

“Oh, yes, I was just noticing your shirt,” Esmé said. “I’ve got one just like it, though not as dirty, obviously. It’s very In.”

“Just because we’re freaks, that doesn’t mean we don’t care about fashion,” Violet replied.

“Do you have trouble eating?” Olaf asked. They both nodded, Klaus wondering where he was going with this. “Let’s see how much trouble you have- here, eat this ear of corn, you two-headed freak.”

He passed them a long ear of corn. It wasn’t long enough for them to hold it between their exposed hands, though they kept trying to make it work, each trying to take hold of one end, effectively pulling it from the other’s grasp each time. Around them, to make matters even worse, the troupe were laughing like this was the funniest thing any of them had ever seen. Only the hook-handed man seemed to be doing it for show, though, possibly because to him, this display of awkward poor co-ordination was a bit too familiar to be truly funny.

“Look at them!” exclaimed one of the white-faced women. “They can’t even eat an ear of corn! How freakish!”

Violet dropped the corn onto the table, and had it not been for their disguises, Klaus would probably have grabbed the corn and thrown it at somebody, he wasn’t too fussed who at this point.

“Pick the corn up off the table, freak!” Olaf demanded, and Klaus thought, Never mind, I know exactly who I want to aim for first.

They tried again to eat the corn, eventually managing to bring it up to their faces. That was only half the battle, though, as they tried to pass it back and forth between their faces, and they almost dropped it several times. Finally, though, they managed to finish it, though it left their faces a mess, more so than they already had been due to the face paint. Klaus dropped the ear back onto the floor, humiliation now mingling with rage, making him want to run far away from the tent and everyone in it.

Sunny

While all of this had been going on, Sunny had sat under one of the tables. She was trying to think how best to pretend to be a wolf baby, so she would be ready when she had to do it for the grown-ups in the tent. So far, she’d been able to just crawl around and growl a lot, neither of which she really liked doing- she’d forgotten just how much of a pain crawling could be, and nobody would be able to understand her growling.

Sunny wasn’t entirely sure what wolves did. There had been one in the story Little Red Riding Hood, and she remembered that he’d eaten people and worn a dress. So did all wolves end up wearing people clothes? If so, she already had that one covered. It was a shame she couldn't wear her pretty dress anymore, the one with the pink and yellow skirt and the star buttons, but maybe when they got away from here she could wear it again. The idea of eating people didn’t seem very nice, either, though she might be tempted to at least bite some of them. Olaf and Esmé, for starters, and the troupe, and maybe even Madame Lulu, she didn’t seem very nice. Although there was something familiar about her, Sunny just couldn't put her finger on what exactly it was.

“That is the funniest job interview I have ever seen!” exclaimed the hook-handed man.

Was that what that thing with the corn had been called? That didn’t sound right- even Sunny knew that in an interview, one person was meant to ask questions, and the other was meant to answer. There hadn’t been any questions, just humi… humil… whatever that word was, for when you made somebody feel smaller and sillier than they actually were.

“You must hire these freaks at once, Lulu,” Olaf added. “Audiences love sloppy eating, trust me, I know.”

Okay, so that was Violet and Klaus in. Time to get out from under the table and get everyone’s attention, so she wasn’t left behind. She pulled aside the table cloth, and saw that she was right next to Esmé’s legs. At least, it seemed safe to assume this was Esmé, not just because she could see Sacchario beside her, but because nobody else in the troupe would wear shiny gold trousers if they didn’t absolutely have to. She let out a growl, drawing Esmé’s attention.

“What is that?” she asked. “Some sort of feral infant?”

Yeah, you bet I am! Sunny wanted to reply. Instead, though, she stuck to growling. She wondered what name Violet was going to give her- hopefully it wouldn't be something too obvious, like Theodora, or another S name, like Solitude or something. Unless that wasn't a name, of course.

“That’s Chabo the Wolf Baby,” Violet explained. “Her mother, a hunter, fell in love with a wolf, and that’s their child.”

“I didn’t know that was possible,” the dark-haired henchperson said.

“Ooh, it might be funny to watch her eat corn, too,” suggested the hook-handed man, picking up another of the ears of corn and holding it in front of her. Sunny knocked it aside and instead bit the man’s hook. It wouldn’t hurt him, and it’d show that she meant business besides. “Hey, let go of that,” he snapped, trying to pull the hook away, and only succeeding in lifting her up from under the table. Sunny hung on, swinging her fists and kicking her feet to really get the point across that she was feral and not messing around. “Crazy kid,” the man muttered, setting her down on the ground. Finally, she let go of the hook.

“As you can see, she’s a bit wild,” Violet explained.

“Yeah, we noticed,” muttered the hook-handed man, as he sat back down, perching on the arm of the chair where the dark-haired henchperson was sitting.

“People are always liking of the violence,” Madame Lulu said. “Yes, Chabo is hired too! Starting at show tomorrow, Beverly and Elliot will eat corn and little wolf freak will attack audience. Do you have any questions for Madame Lulu?”

“Of course they don’t have any questions,” Olaf said. “They’re lucky to have any work- without this carnival, they’d just be stuck working in human resources with the rest of the freaks.”

“You are as right as you are handsome, my Olaf,” Lulu replied.

“Handsome?” Esmé snapped.

“Is business term, please! Wolfie, two-headed thing, report to House of Freaks, where work accommodations will be provided. Also health insurance, although nearby hospital is how you say…”

“Burned down,” Olaf finished for her.

“Out of network,” Lulu corrected. “Off you go!”

So, their disguises had worked, and they had successfully snuck into the carnival. Now they just had to stick around long enough to get the answers they needed, and they could get out of here. It’s like the lumber mill all over again, Sunny couldn't help thinking, as they made their way to their new temporary home. Well, they’d survived the mill, they could survive this too.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Nine: In Which There Is A Warm Welcome And An Unexpected Miracle

Violet

The House of Freaks caravan looked like it had seen better days. The paint was peeling, revealing dull grey wood underneath, and the curtains they could see were frayed. Violet and her siblings stayed at the foot of the small ladder leading up to the caravan door for a moment, unsure whether they’d be able to navigate it in their disguises.

Awkwardly, Violet and Klaus made their way up, Sunny following behind. Violet knocked on the door, which opened to reveal a man with dark hair, a tortoise-dæmon and a noticeable hunchback. He smiled brightly at the children, and stepped aside to let them in.

“Hello! My name’s Hugo, and this is Fantine. It’s great to meet you!”

“Hello,” Violet replied. “Um, I’m Beverley, and this is my other head, Elliot, and that’s Chabo the wolf-baby.” She pointed to Lizzie and Oliver, improvising new names for them just in case. “And that’s Lydia and Bill.”

“Guys, guys, we’ve got new colleagues!” Hugo cheered, prompting a groan from somebody in one of the hammocks.

There were a few hammocks hung about the caravan, as well as a large table, multiple cabinets and various bric-a-brac scattered throughout the place. Another man came down from a hammock, his brown monkey-dæmon hanging down from her tail before climbing onto his back. He looked perfectly ordinary, as he rubbed his face with both hands.

“Don’t shout, Hugo, we can see them,” he grumbled.

“I know! I’m just excited, that’s all. Things like this don’t exactly happen every day!”

“Yeah- we haven’t had anyone new since we got that new Madame Lulu last week,” a female voice piped up from another one of the hammocks.

“Will both of you be quiet? You’re disrupting my meditation exercise,” the other man said. “I was visualizing a world where there was nothing wrong with me at all, unlike this world, where I am a hideous freak.” He picked up two bags of popcorn, holding them out. “Popcorn?” he offered.

“We don’t really like corn any more,” Violet replied. The man nodded.

“Yeah, I’m not surprised you have no appetite- you guys have it almost as bad as I do. It’s okay, though- I’m used to people staring.”

“...Because of your pleasant facial features?” Violet asked, not seeing what it was about this guy that made him so supposedly freakish.

“And your symmetrical jawline?” Klaus asked, sounding as confused as Violet felt.

“It’s nice of you to pretend not to notice,” the man replied. “The popcorn? I’m holding it in two equally strong hands! Go ahead, say it. Look at Kevin, the ambidextrous freak!”

“Ambidextrous?” Klaus asked, still sounding perplexed. “Doesn’t that just mean you’re both right and left handed?”

“So you have heard of me,” Kevin replied. “I bet that’s why you travelled out to the Hinterlands, so you can stare at somebody who can write his name with either hand?”

“No, I just know what the word ambidextrous means,” Klaus explained.

“See, I had a feeling you’d be smart,” Hugo said. Violet noticed that his dæmon had a creamy white patch on her otherwise plain green shell, and there was a long crack along the shell, as though somebody had dropped her. “You have twice as many brains, after all. That’s much better than being a hunchback, I can tell you that much. Your head and hands may be freaky, but at least you have absolutely normal shoulders.”

“What good are normal shoulders when they’re attached to hands that are equally good at using a knife and a fork?”

“No contest!” Sunny exclaimed, which meant something like, Come on, guys, this isn’t a competition! There’s pros and cons to all of our situations.

“Oh, Kevin, I know it’s depressing to be so freakish,” said the female voice, as though Sunny hadn’t spoken. “But look at it this way- at least you’re better off than I am.”

The woman emerged from her own hammock then, in a perfect backflip, landing on her feet on the caravan floor. She had bright red hair arranged in two buns on either side of her head, a large pink flower adorning each one, and she wore a black leotard with a pink knee-length skirt over it. Her dæmon was a brown otter.

“My name is Colette, and if you’re going to laugh, get it over with. I wouldn't blame you for laughing at a contortionist.”

“Contortionist?” Violet asked.

“I can bend my body into all sorts of unusual positions,” Colette explained, twisting an arm round her back and fiddling with something in her hair. “See? I’m a complete freak!”

“Cool!” Sunny said.

“I think that’s amazing, and so does my- er, Chabo,” Violet added, catching herself just before she slipped up.

“That’s polite of you to say so,” Colette replied. “But I’m ashamed to be a contortionist.”

“In that case, why don’t you just move your body normally?” Klaus asked.

“Because I’m in the House of Freaks,” she explained, like it was obvious. “Nobody would pay to see me move normally.”

“It’s a dilemma,” Hugo said. “At tomorrow’s show, crowds will be waiting for Colette to twist into strange positions, for Kevin to write his name with both hands, and for me to try on one of these coats.” He studied the three of them for a moment. “What about you? What’ll you guys be expected to do?”

“Well, Elliot and I will have to try and eat an ear of corn- that’s why we’ve gone off corn, incidentally- and Chabo here will have to growl at people and crawl around the stage.” Violet explained.

Sunny

So far, Sunny wasn’t really sure what to make of her new co-workers. They seemed nice enough, though she couldn't see anything particularly freakish about any of them, especially not Kevin. Colette had a really cool talent, and hunchback or not, Hugo seemed far too nice to be here.

“We shouldn't have to do any of that, though,” Klaus said, after Violet had explained what their act was going to be. “None of us should have to do any of that.”

“You sound like the old Madame Lulu,” Colette replied. “She was always encouraging us to do things like apply to community college.”

“Yeah- she was even going to pay for our tuition and everything,” Hugo added. “But, well, the world will only ever see us as freaks. What other jobs could we possibly have?”

“That’s true,” Kevin said. “Right, well, I’ll go pop this popcorn for the concession stand.”

“I need to twist these pipe cleaners into finger puppets to sell in the gift shop,” Colette added.

“And I’d better get back to overseeing carnival marketing and brand management,” Hugo said. “If you guys don’t mind pitching in, you could pick sequins out of that laundry. They get everywhere!” He smiled at the children. “It really is a tough world out there- we freaks have to stick together.”

Awkwardly, Violet and Klaus gathered up an armful of clothes and retreated into a corner of the caravan. Sunny sat down next to the pile, picking out anything that looked especially small and shiny, while Violet and Klaus discussed the situation.

“Nobody deserves to be ridiculed, on stage or off,” Klaus whispered, speaking in his regular voice.

“I feel bad that we have to lie to them,” Violet replied. “But it’s the only way to get answers from Lulu.”

“Is it?” Sunny asked. She pointed back to the three grown-ups. “Maybe fends,” she said, meaning, They could be our friends. “Eleven,” she added, meaning, And friends don’t lie.

“I don’t like it much either, but we don’t exactly have a lot of other options right now. We can’t risk getting caught, or having anyone find out who we really are,” Violet replied. “Now, what do we think about Madame Lulu? Do we think we can trust her?”

“Strange,” Sunny replied, by which she meant, Did either of you notice something strange about her?

“Everything is strange about her,” Klaus replied.

“True- but I did notice something a bit more specific. It feels like we’ve seen her before- I just don’t know where.”

“Jacky?” Sunny suggested, even though Madame Lulu really didn’t look anything like the lady who had sometimes helped them out. If she were Jacquelyn, she’d have to be wearing a pretty impressive disguise.

“Maybe,” Klaus replied. Neither of them said anything more, as they got to work on the laundry.

Klaus

After they finished with the laundry, Klaus, his sisters and his temporary colleagues went to bed. Klaus and Violet had to take a bit of time to figure out how best to fit into their hammock, and while they figured that out, Sunny sat on the table, asking the three performers questions, keeping their attention on her rather than him and Violet. So far, they had learned that Kevin and Colette’s dæmons were named Michel and Gabriel respectively, and that Kevin’s was male, rather than female. Klaus wondered if that was what Kevin was really anxious about, the thing he thought really made him different from everyone else.

“Where are you from?” she asked, pointing at Kevin and sounding out each word carefully. Klaus knew he should probably be telling her to growl, but he decided to leave it for now. Surely the performers would appreciate that certain parts of her wolf baby act were only for show?

“A town called Stain’d-By-The-Sea, originally- but I’ve not lived there in years. Have you heard of it?”

“Nope,” Sunny replied.

“I have family from there,” Hugo said. “I’ve not seen them in a long time, though.”

“Know the feeling,” Sunny replied.

“Time for bed, Chabo,” Klaus called, once he and Violet were settled.

“Okay!” Sunny said, toddling over to the hammock below theirs and settling in. “Yakko!” she called up to her siblings, which meant something like, Goodnight, everybody!

The next morning, they were woken by Hugo asking what they wanted for breakfast. A few minutes later, they were sitting at the table with bowls of muesli, Violet and Klaus managing to operate the spoons with only minimal awkwardness. For once, Sunny’s lack of table manners worked in her favour, as she ate dry muesli with her hands in a way one would expect from somebody who was half wolf.

“Five minutes!” barked the hook-handed man, pushing open the door and looking around at them. “Five minutes till show time!”

“Another new colleague!” Hugo cheered. “This week just keep getting better!”

“Welcome to the House of Freaks!” Colette added. “Do you juggle, or is it just-”

“I’m not a freak!” the man snapped. “I’m a normal person who just happens to have hooks for hands!”

“I envy you,” Kevin replied, earning him a baffled look from the man. Even his crocodile-dæmon raised her head to stare at him. “Which hook do you favour?”

“Would you care for some muesli?” Colette asked, in a tone that Klaus recognised as one Violet had used before, that of an embarrassed older sister trying to make up for her brother’s faux pas.

“I can’t eat muesli!” the man replied.

“Don’t be silly- we could use a welding gun to attach a spoon…”

“No, I can’t eat muesli because I’m running around following orders! Now, you lot had better put on a fantastic show, because the boss is in a really bad mood. Madame Lulu told him that one of those blasted Baudelaire parents is still alive!” He shook his head, and turned to go. “It’s a miracle!” he added, sarcastically.

Klaus shot a glance at his sisters, and he and Violet scrambled from their chair, rushing after the hook-handed man, Sunny following after them, still holding onto a handful of muesli.

“What did you say?” Violet asked, once they’d caught up to the henchman.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“About the Baudelaire parents,” Klaus replied.

“What do you care?” the man asked, peering at him and Violet a little too closely, while his dæmon studied Sunny, her small green eyes narrowed in confusion.

“We’ve been reading about them in the papers,” Violet replied smoothly. “We’re very interested in those children.”

“We believe they’re innocent, that they’re the victims of a miscarriage of justice,” Klaus added.

“Well, whatever they are, their parents are supposed to be dead,” the man replied. “But Madame Lulu looked in her crystal ball this morning and saw that one of them had survived.”

“There’s a survivor?” Klaus asked, before he could think better of it. “Where?”

“Madame Lulu said we’d have to wait until morning to find that out, because it’s technically a different question. I wouldn't bring that up with the boss, though, it’s kind of a sore spot.”

“Did he tell you how it worked?” Violet asked.

“He said that the tent got cold, filled with smoke and fire, and he saw a ghost from his past. You know, magic!”

With that, he walked away, leaving Klaus and his sisters to think about everything he’d said, and the potential implications it could have.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty: In Which The Performers Put On A Show

Sunny

Sunny looked from the retreating henchman to her siblings, wondering if they were all thinking the same thing- and then Violet spoke up, confirming that they were all on the same page.

“We have no idea if it’s true,” she pointed out.

“But what if it is?” Klaus replied.

“Then we have to know how Lulu gets her information. We have to sneak into her tent.”

Sunny wondered if maybe their new co-workers knew anything. She snuck onto the ladder leading up to the caravan and pressed her ear against the door, so she could see if they said anything interesting.

“...I really don’t think those new guys should be here,” she heard Colette say.

“What do you mean?” Kevin asked. “Hang on, your right bun’s a bit uneven.” There was a pause, presumably during which he fixed her hair.

“Have you seen them? They’re kids! Beverley and Elliot are, what, thirteen? Fourteen? And Chabo is literally a baby!” Toddler, Sunny corrected in her head. “This is no life for them, you know?”

“It’s not much life for us, either,” Hugo pointed out. “But what else can we expect?”

Sunny knocked on the door then, and Hugo opened it. Inside, she could see Colette sitting in the same chair she’d sat in for breakfast, Kevin standing behind her, one hand checking each of her buns, making sure they were even. Being ambidextrous was good for something, it seemed.

“Showtime,” she said.

“We know, Chabo, we’re just coming,” Hugo replied.

“Are you guys okay?” Colette asked. “You kinda left in a hurry.”

“We’re fine,” Sunny replied. “You okay?”

“Yeah- we’re just taking a moment to get ready before the show.”

Sunny nodded, then she walked over to the table, standing up on her tiptoes so she could get a better look at the muesli bowls. She wondered if they could have a more interesting breakfast tomorrow- maybe she could help. She’d have to ask about that later. For now, though, they had to go to the show.

“Good job!” she said, pointing to Kevin, who’d just finished adjusting the pink roses in Colette's hair. “Both hands good!” she added, which meant something like, See, having two equally good hands is a good thing after all!

“Yeah- I suppose it does have its uses sometimes,” he agreed. “Come on then, let’s give the people what they want.”

With that, the four of them left the caravan. Sunny noticed that Kevin was wearing a rather rumpled suit now, while Colette wasn’t wearing her pink skirt any more. Hugo, meanwhile, had just put on a long brown coat which seemed to have been altered to accommodate his hunch, his dæmon riding in one of the pockets. Michel was hanging from Kevin’s shoulders, while Gabriel was walking along at Colette's side.

They entered the tent, where Olaf’s troupe were dressed up as carnival workers. The hook-handed man and the bald man were dressed the same, in yellow and red waistcoats and trousers, while the two white-faced women wore pink skirts and had pink flowers in their hair. The dark-haired henchperson seemed to be doing a mixture of those two disguises, combining the red and yellow waistcoat and the pink skirt.

“Buy some popcorn!” cried the first white-faced woman.

“It definitely hasn’t been sitting out here since last night!” added her sister.

“Soda, healthy soda!” the bald man declared.

“I'm selling this precooked hot dog I found on the ground,” added the henchperson, at their usual volume, holding up the hot dog in question.

Sunny, her siblings, and the other three performers went into a little room off to the side, which had a couple of tables with large mirrors attached, and a poster with a picture of a lion on it. Violet and Klaus sat on one of the chairs in front of a table, and checked their makeup. Sunny sat close by, at their feet.

“If one of our parents really did survive, where are they?” Klaus hissed. “Why aren’t they trying to find us?”

“Good advice?” Sunny suggested, which meant, Well, when you’re lost, it’s good advice to stay where you are, until you’re found.

“That’s a good point,” Violet replied. “Maybe they’ve been searching everywhere, but they can’t find us, cause we’re always on the move. Maybe we should stay put and figure out as much as we can.”

“Without getting recognised,” Klaus added, which really went without saying.

Klaus

Klaus was not in the least bit ready to go out on stage and be forced to eat corn for an audience. He didn’t know how anyone was supposed to be ready for something like that- though he supposed that his co-workers must all be used to it by now. Nobody seemed to have seen through their disguises so far, which was just about the only bright side to this whole thing.

“You freaks better put on a good show,” Esmé said, coming into the small backstage room. She wore a red and gold striped gown, with what appeared to be two cones attached to the chest. It was about as ridiculous as all her outfits had been thus far. “My boyfriend told me that if you don’t, I’m allowed to hit you with my tagliatelle grande.”

“What’s a tagliatelle grande?” Kevin asked.

“Tagliatelle is an Italian noodle, and grande is Italian for big,” Klaus replied.

“That’s right, although nobody asked you,” Esmé said. She pointed to the large, cream-coloured thing they could see was attached to her belt. “This is a big noodle I had the troupe whip up to use as a whip. Italian food is in, but getting whipped with it is often damp and uncomfortable.” Just then, Olaf poked his head through the tent door.

“How’s the noodle working?” he asked.

“Delicious,” Esmé replied. “How’s the crowd?”

“Well…” he paused, as if in consideration. “It’s a matinee.”

“That’s not so bad,” Hugo told Violet and Klaus, after both Olaf and Esmé were away. “Fewer people- not bad for your first show.” He stood up. “I’m up first- I’d better get out there.” He gave Kevin a double high five, the rest of them a small salute, and approached the door. “Wish me luck out there.”

“Good luck!” Colette said, and then he left.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, adolescents of every gender! Buy your reasonably-priced concessions now, because the House of Freaks show is about to begin!” they heard the hook-handed man cry. Sound travelled pretty well through the thin cloth door, and Klaus suspected they’d be able to hear everything that went on in the main tent.

“Look at those freaks! There’s a man with hooks instead of hands!” someone in the audience shouted.

“I’m not a freak!” protested the hook-handed man. “I’m playing the calliope!”

Klaus was almost glad he couldn't see his co-workers’ performances. He didn’t want to be yet another spectator to their humiliation, any more than he’d want them to see his and his sisters’ impending humiliation. So while he could hear Olaf- and the audience- mocking Hugo as he struggled into a coat, he tried not to actually listen too closely, knowing it didn’t do any good.

Colette was up next. Again, Klaus had no idea what her act involved besides “twisting her body into various shapes.” He wondered if their dæmons were expected to have any part in the act. He’d noticed the patch on Fantine’s shell, and he remembered reading once that otters were rather flexible animals, so maybe that would apply to Gabriel too. Whatever the case may be, it wasn’t long before Colette came back into the backstage room, and it was Kevin’s turn.

“Write your name, Kenneth!” Klaus heard Olaf say.

“It’s Kevin,” Kevin replied. There was a pause, then-

“Ladies and gentlemen, his signatures are basically identical!”

“Wow!” exclaimed the white-faced women. “I’ve never seen two things as identical as that!”

Klaus sighed and shook his head. He was getting more and more anxious, knowing that once Kevin was done, it would be their turn next. It might not be so bad if they weren’t having to do something so humiliating and inane, he thought- but he didn’t know what else they could do.

“Evelyn,” Sunny observed, which meant something like, It’s a shame you both can’t sing- otherwise that could be your act.

Colette gave her a strange look then, similar to the one Brandon had given her back in the VFD van when she’d said “Spats,” like the word rang a very faint bell in her mind. She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, Kevin came back in.

“That was horrible, and humiliating,” he grumbled. “So, I guess it went well, then.”

“That means we’re next,” Violet muttered, and they got down from their chair. As if sensing his nerves, she squeezed his hand inside the disguise. We can do this, okay? she seemed to be saying. We’ll be just fine.

Violet

Before they could get out onto the stage, Esmé burst through the tent flap, wielding her tagliatelle grande. Violet had never considered the potential of food as a weapon, but now the idea was in her head-

“Get out there now, unless you want pasta scars!” Esmé barked, cracking the pasta whip far too close to Violet and her siblings for comfort.

“Hey, they’re just coming,” Hugo said. “Go easy on them, it’s only their first show.”

“I will not be going easy on them! I shouldn't be going easy on any of you freaks. Now get out there, now!”

They made their way out onto the stage, where Olaf was waiting with an ear of corn in his hand. He’d taken it from a bucket full of several more ears of corn, and was waving it in their direction. There were maybe three people in the audience- though it was hard to tell with the white-faced women pointing their spotlights directly at them.

“Behold, corn! Something any normal person can eat!” Olaf declared. “Can you eat corn, normal person?” he asked the dark-haired henchperson, who was standing behind a coat rack, their arms resting on the rail.

“I prefer asparagus,” they replied, and got a cloth thrown at them in response. “I mean, delicious corn.”

“These brand-new freaks will turn these ears of corn into a hideous mess, while one of them more or less growls. Please laugh, make tasteless jokes and purchase beverages to throw at the heads of Beverly and Elliot and Chabo the Wolf Baby!” Olaf announced.

“Come on, I wanna see corn eaten badly!” shouted a man from the audience.

Olaf passed over the ear of corn to Violet, standing too close for comfort. She snatched it away as fast as she could, waiting for him to step back. For a moment, they didn’t make any moves to start eating the corn, still not wanting to do so in front of an audience, even a very small one.

“Eat the damn corn,” Olaf hissed, leaning in closer.

Violet stepped to the side, trying to get away. She moved so fast, she almost knocked into Klaus, which could well have knocked them both over and risked ruining their disguise. Silently, she cursed herself. Why had she reacted this way? Why couldn't she just keep her head the way she always did and stay in character?

Forcing herself to calm down, she and Klaus tried to eat the corn the best they could, and it was every bit as awful as it had been last night. It was a relief when their act was finally over, and they were able to go back into the backstage area.

“Are you kids okay?” Colette asked.

“That was horrible, and humiliating. If people think it’s so funny when someone drops corn, they should stay home and drop it themselves.”

“I know, it’s miserable, isn’t it?” Hugo replied.

Violet nodded, though it was more than just miserable- it was a complete waste of time. Every moment they were being laughed at was a moment they could be spending finding out what Madame Lulu knew.

Sunny

“Tent,” Sunny pointed out, once their co-workers weren’t listening. We have to get to Madame Lulu’s tent.

“That was horrible! That was humiliating!” Olaf said. Sunny thought, if that was his opinion, he should try being the one getting laughed at, see how he liked it. “It’s bad enough that I have to kill time in a carnival waiting for mystical spirits to solve all my problems. But I make the best of it! I give one of my greatest performances ever, and there’s hardly anyone in the audience to see it!"

“There were three people,” pointed out the dark-haired henchperson.

“I tell you, Caligari Carnival is on hard times,” Lulu said. “Is not good business model to have carnival in Hinterlands. The roller coaster is on the… what’s the word, fritz? And frankly, roving pack of starving lions really cuts down on tourist trade.”

“I didn’t give up a glamorous theatrical career to be performing to nearly-empty houses,” Olaf grumbled.

“I thought you gave it up to chase those orphans?” asked the hook-handed man.

“They are not orphans, if one of their parents is still alive!” Olaf barked.

“Spirit world will be answering all your questions very soon, please,” Lulu said. “My Olaf must have patience!”

“I’m tired of patience,” Olaf replied, before using an analogy which gave all three Baudelaires a sense of deja vu. “If you want a mule to move, you can reward it with a carrot, or you can hit it with a stick. I want answers to my questions, and I want an audience worthy of my greatness. I need to find a way to fill the stands with adoring crowds, and yet remind certain people that I am a force to be feared and obeyed. But what could possibly do that?” He was quiet for a moment, which was about how long it took Sunny to notice he was looking at the lion poster and not just staring off into the middle distance. “Maybe I can beat two mules with one stick.” Or you could not hit any mules with any sticks, that’s an option too, Sunny couldn't help thinking. “I need to run an errand.” He turned to the troupe. “I need all of you to dig a pit.”

“Do you want us to help, too?” Kevin asked.

“Sure, why not,” Olaf replied, though he sounded dismissive, like he wanted to spend as little time as possible on the interaction.

“My Olaf is leaving?” Lulu asked, sounding almost relieved, but like she was trying not to show it.

“Yes, to get you a gift.”

“What kind of gift?” she asked.

“It had better not be any of my bracelets,” Esmé said, covering her wrist protectively.

“It’s a surprise,” Olaf replied. He reached down and grabbed Esmé’s tagliatelle grande. “I need to borrow this,” he said, before disappearing through the tent flap.

Now what are we meant to do? Sunny wondered. She hoped they’d be able to take advantage of Olaf’s absence and get some answers, but she didn’t know how they were meant to go about that. Hopefully, the tent would give them some answers.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty-One: In Which The Baudelaires Finally Get Some Answers

Violet

With Olaf gone from the tent, Violet looked at her siblings, knowing they had to take advantage of this situation while it lasted. Quickly, she and Klaus exited the backstage room and then the tent, Sunny trailing behind them.

“What do you think he’s planning?” Klaus asked.

“I don’t know, but it can’t be anything good. It does give us an opportunity, though.”

Just then, Madame Lulu exited the tent, followed closely by Esmé, who managed to waylay her before she could go back to her own tent. Even though Violet would normally never thank Esmé for anything, she couldn't help feeling slightly grateful for that.

“Let’s move quickly- Esmé isn’t going to be able to keep Madame Lulu distracted forever.”

“Sure ‘bout that?” Sunny asked. Are you sure? We all know how endlessly the woman can talk.

“True, but we do still have to move quickly,” Violet replied.

Once they were safely in the tent, Violet and Klaus dropped the shell of their disguise- which was probably not a good idea, but it would make their work easier, which seemed more important.

“Okay, so, let’s go over what the hook-handed man said, and go from there,” Violet said. “First, the tent got cold, then it filled with smoke, then ghosts from Olaf’s past showed up.”

“Right. How do you think that happened?” Klaus asked.

“I don’t know, but I don’t think it was magic.” She reached into her pocket and drew out the torn piece of cloth Sunny had given her back at the hospital, quickly tying her hair up. “Okay, so, the cooling air could be carbon dioxide converting to gas in a dry ice machine, which would explain the temperature change and the smoke.”

“I’ve heard of illusions being created using a projector and a prismatic lens,” Klaus added. “So, if the crystal ball is the lens, then it’d figure that the projector is underneath, right?”

“Exactly,” she replied. “The images come through to look like spirits- she must have tapes of people from Olaf’s past, in that case. She’s using technology to make people believe it’s magic- on a mechanical level, it’s genius. On an ethical level, though, it’s kinda shitty.”

“What about her information, though? She claimed to know our whole miserable story, how could she possibly know all that?”

“The same way everyone else does- the Daily Punctilio.”

“Then she is a fraud,” he said, sounding so defeated, Violet just wanted to hug him and tell him everything was going to be okay. “She doesn’t know if one of our parents is alive.”

“I’m sorry, Klaus, I wanted a miracle, too.”

“It can’t all be fake! There has to be something here that isn’t just… just smoke and mirrors.”

Sunny

Sunny sighed, and sat on the floor beside the table. It wasn’t that she’d thought Madame Lulu could really do magic… okay, maybe she’d thought that a little bit… but still, finding out she didn’t actually know anything that hadn’t first been in the Daily Punctilio was disappointing- especially given how bad that newspaper was.

There was something under the table, though, which looked interesting. She gave it a tug, and a grey square popped out. It had a few black circles on it, and a green button on the top. She pressed the button, and the circles started spinning. Then, a voice she hadn’t heard in a long, long time spoke.

“In the words of a very wise and very talkative Tibetan Monk Snake, life is a conundrum of esoterica.”

“Uncle Monty,” Klaus said, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

He lifted Sunny up onto a chair, so she could see too, which was nice- although she could climb up onto them herself now, she could even stand up if she really wanted to. She hadn’t been able to do any of that when she had last seen Uncle Monty. She realised she’d almost forgotten what he looked like, forgotten about his wiggly moustache and his smiling face- that was how long it had been. She’d almost forgotten his dæmon, too, the dark green snake Antonia.

“I miss him,” Violet said.

“Me, too,” Klaus agreed.

“Me, three,” Sunny added.

Then, the image in the crystal ball changed. It showed a party, Sunny realised, and the person holding the camera was moving around filming the guests. Whoever it was, they paused to talk to two ladies- one who was familiar to the Baudelaires, and one who wasn’t. The first had light brown hair and a pink dress, and they recognised her as Jacquelyn, the kind volunteer who’d helped them several times in the past, while the second had dark hair, held up in a bun with two silver sticks, and a blue dress. They couldn’t see what her dæmon was, he must be on the floor.

“Anything you wanna say, girls?” the cameraperson asked. She had a lady’s voice too. Jacquelyn rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

“No, Mom,” she said, laughing. “It’s just great to be here, having this party.”

“It really is,” the camerawoman replied. “Kay, dear, if you see your brother later, tell him I want to speak to him.”

“Of course,” the dark-haired lady replied, and the camerawoman moved on.

The couple who the children saw next were also not quite as familiar to Sunny as they should’ve been- although that had more to do with the fact that she’d only seen one in a plain blue dress and two different cardigans, not an elegant black gown and matching hawking glove, and that she’d never seen the other one in the… in the person, was that the expression? Or was she thinking about a different phrase? Never mind, it didn’t matter.

“Auntie Josie!” she said instead, pointing to the guardian she’d wished she could see again ever since she’d figured out to make a proper sentence all by herself.

She reached into her pocket for the small scrap of purple cardigan she’d been carrying since they’d left Lake Lachrymose, the one that had been transferred from yellow raincoat to green uniform, to dark red jacket, to black pinstriped jacket, on and on, to rest in a pocket of her current disguise. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

“And that must be Ike,” Violet added. “They look so happy together.”

The camerawoman moved away to somebody else again. Again, Sunny didn’t quite recognise her at first- her hair was the wrong colour, blonde instead of brown, and she wasn’t wearing glasses. But her large grey owl-dæmon was the same

“Dr. Orwell,” Klaus said, with a small shudder.

“She’s gone now, too,” Violet said, her voice firm. “So many people in this film are dead- it’s like watching ghosts from the past.”

“No shit,” Sunny replied, which meant something like, Of course that’s what it’s like- that’s exactly how the hook-handed man described it.

“We have got to have that talk about when you’re allowed to curse, Sunshine,” Klaus said, shaking his head. “Not now, though- right now, we have bigger things to worry about, like why Lulu even has this tape to begin with, and why all these people are on it.”

“Because they’re all connected,” Violet replied. “Whatever VFD is, it has something to do with Jacques Snicket, our parents, our guardians, Olaf, the Quagmires, and so many more people, too.”

“Jackie,” Sunny offered. “Pobbly Larry, too. And us.”

“Madame Lulu’s gotta be part of this, too,” Klaus pointed out. “So, maybe she does know something about our parents.”

“We haven’t searched that cabinet yet,” Violet said, pointing at what looked like a large, person sized box in one corner, which was held up by four very short legs.

They made their way over to it, Sunny climbing down from the chair just to show that she could, and Violet opened the doors. Inside were several costumes, all hung up in a neat row. Each of them looked like disguises Olaf had worn in the past, as Klaus was quick to mention.

“They can’t be the same disguises, though, his are in his car,” Violet pointed out. “They must just be part of the same kit. See, it says Various Fakery Disguises.”

“More V.F.D,” Klaus said. Then he spied a box on the floor, and picked it up. “There’s more films here, too.”

They put one of the “films”- which just looked like large grey circles to Sunny- into the square, and pressed the green button. The circles spun again, and a scene played out, a bunch of people in a snowy village singing a song about eating feet.

“That’s the movie we watched with Uncle Monty,” Klaus said. Sunny frowned- she did remember something about that. They put in a different film, then another, then another…

“What I want people to take away from my films,” a dark-haired man with a raven-dæmon in the first film said, “are the themes, the characters, and, most importantly, the secret messages hidden in the subtitles. For example, my character might say, Deborah, please return my end table.” Several words appeared on the screen, presumably matching up with that sentence. “But look through the spy glass, and you see the word Department.”

“Mr. Snicket!” Sunny exclaimed, when she saw the man on the next film. Finally, someone she absolutely, definitely recognised, other than Jacquelyn. Not that it was a huge comfort, since he was dead too, but still.

“When meeting a volunteer in the field,” Mr. Snicket was explaining, “you may determine their allegiance with the use of the following code phrases- I didn’t realise this was a sad occasion, and the world is quiet here. You must say the former to them, and they must say the latter back to you.”

“That last sentence was in Duncan's commonplace book,” Klaus said.

Jacquelyn was in the next film, talking about a lion tamer who had been lost, leading to the escape of something called the Volunteer Feline Detectives. She was replaced by Larry, who said:

“Young lady, have you been good to your mother? Now, that code means, run away, your house is on fire.”

Then the man from the first film was back, showing off the various disguises. Sunny recognised them from Olaf’s various nasty aliases- there was Shirley the secretary, and Sham the boat captain, and then-

“I can’t watch any more,” Violet said, as the man showed something called the bride disguise, a white dress and veil. She crouched down and stopped the film, replacing it with another. “I don’t… I don’t care what else is on that film, I can’t look at that… that thing again.”

With shaking hands, she grabbed another film at random and replaced it. Sunny frowned, not knowing what she should do. Then she remembered- the birdcage, the poker game, the wheelbarrow, Violet in that same white dress. Oh, right. That made sense.

“These files contain a report on the tragic events…” a man’s voice was explaining. They all looked, and saw a stocky, dark-haired man with a squirrel-dæmon, who was sitting in an armchair and holding up four books. He wore a wide-brimmed hat, which cast a shadow over his face. “...of my apprenticeship at Stain’d-By-The-Sea.”

“Isn’t that where Mom and Dad took us on that trip?” Klaus asked.

“Kevin lived there,” Sunny pointed out. “And Hugo family.”

“These could not be released until now, however, due to respect for the surviving parties, and copyright law,” the man went on to say. “Speaking of which, if any of you happen to see this, then I want you to know that I am truly sorry.” He sighed, and the film ended there.

“Who was that guy?” Violet asked. She seemed to have recovered herself.

“I don’t know- and why did he look so much like Jacques?”

“Mr. Snicket too?” Sunny suggested. Do you think they’re related?

“Maybe,” Violet replied. “I don’t know, it almost felt like I’d seen him before. It’s probably just the family resemblance, though.”

“Or maybe it’s this,” Klaus said, pulling the photo they’d also been carrying since Lake Lachrymose from his pocket. “See, look at that guy, standing next to our parents? That’s gotta be him, right?”

He showed them both the picture, and Sunny saw that he was right. His face was angled away from the camera, but it was definitely the same guy.

“So, practically every adult we’ve ever met since our parents died was in this same secret organization, and if this photo’s anything to go by, they have a line in putting out fires,” Klaus said. “And there’s a name for an organization like that- a volunteer fire department.”

“V.F.D!” Sunny said, and waved her arms, so relieved to finally have this mystery solved.

Unfortunately, as she was sitting on the table at the time, she ended up knocking over the crystal ball, sending it careening off the table and rolling past the beaded curtain, where it was eventually stopped in its tracks by somebody’s foot.

Klaus

“What the fu… What, please, is going on in here?!” barked Madame Lulu, from the main part of the tent. “How, please, did you get in here? Please?”

It was more obvious than it had ever been that she was faking her accent- and there was something familiar in those first couple of words she’d uttered, before she’d remembered who she was supposed to be. It was that familiarity that made Klaus turn and exit the small, closed off section of the tent, and face Madame Lulu, Violet and Sunny following behind, like they’d sensed the same thing.

“I knew it,” she said, in a tone that had no trace of accent. “I knew it was you.”

“Who… who are you?” Violet asked.

“An old friend, Baudelaires,” Lulu replied, pulling at her dark brown curls to reveal that they were a wig, which had concealed her real, dark red hair. She took out her green coloured contacts, too, and put on a pair of black cats-eye glasses.

“Miss Caliban?” Violet asked.

“That’s right, Violet- although, since we aren’t in school any more, you can call me Olivia instead, if you’d prefer. And this is Cassandra," she added, pointing to her dæmon, who flew close enough for Klaus to see that she was a ladybird. She smiled, and brought them over to one of the couches, bringing a chair to sit on herself. “Now, I don’t want to cut this reunion short, but we don’t have long. Olaf could come back any minute, and we are in the belly of the beast.”

“Why are you dressed as a fortune-teller?” Klaus couldn't help asking.

“A fortune-teller is just a librarian with smoke and mirrors,” Miss Caliban replied, with a small shrug. “I may have lost you at Prufrock Prep, Baudelaires, but I never forgot you, or your friends. After the Quagmires were kidnapped I headed to the City to rescue them, which is where I met Jacquelyn Scieszcka, and Jacques Snicket, and joined V.F.D.”

“The Volunteer Fire Department,” Klaus said, and Miss Caliban nodded.

“They were trying to save the Quagmires. We almost had them at the Village of Fowl Devotees, but Olaf captured us. I made a deal with Esmé to get us out of jail, and Jacques stayed behind, leaving me to track down our bravest agent in the field, right here.” She gestured to the tent they were in. “This carnival is a place where V.F.D gathers information- there’s not even a real Madame Lulu, it’s just an alias for whichever volunteer happens to be stationed here. It’s a rotating position. The previous Madame Lulu took my taxi to the hospital, so she could retrieve a very important sugar bowl before Esmé could get her hands on it. She hasn’t come back, though, which considering how fast she drove when she was leaving here is weird, if you ask me. As for Jacques… well, he’s not coming back, either.” She sighed, and added, almost to herself, “God, I hope she knows by now, and doesn’t do anything too reckless.”

“Jacques tried to help us,” Klaus said, hoping that might comfort her somehow. “He was very brave.”

“And the Quagmires are safe,” Violet added. “We rescued them.”

“I’m so glad to hear that,” Miss Caliban replied. “You truly are remarkable children.” She sighed. “But Olaf is here now, and we’re all in danger. I’ve tried to stall him until the previous Madame Lulu returns- and I really, really hope she’ll know what to do when she does. But he’s getting suspicious, and I don’t know how much longer I can fool him.”

“Well, you managed to fool us- it’s a great disguise,” Violet replied.

“So is yours- I almost didn’t recognise you.”

“How… how did you?” Klaus asked, trying not to sound anxious. He was still a bit worried- if Miss Caliban could recognise them, what if someone else managed it?

“A certain gleam in the eye, indicating a sharp erudite acumen. All volunteers have eyes like that.”

“Miss Caliban,” Violet said. “We found a message saying that one of our parents survived, and you told Olaf that it was true.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied, sighing. “I only said that to keep him here. But, if Jacques believed that there was a survivor, then it must be true. His research is never wrong.” She drew out a large grey book, one Klaus hadn’t laid eyes on since he’d seen it in a box under Aunt Josephine’s bed. “I’ve been doing some reading.”

“The Incomplete History of Secret Organizations,” Klaus said, reading the title. “You found it!”

“Yeah. Now, V.F.D has a secret headquarters in the Mortmain Mountains, and if one of your parents really is alive, this is where they’d be.”

“Then that’s where we have to go,” Violet replied.

“I know, and I’m going to take you there.” She went into the cabinet, and took out a map, rolling it out onto the table. They all gathered round, to look at it. “Now, Jacques told me that the headquarters are on this map, but it doesn’t seem to be marked.”

“May I see it?” Klaus asked. Miss Caliban stepped aside, letting him get a good look. “Markings on maps are like codes. See, this blue line is a stream, and those green houses are campgrounds. Look, this spot here is labelled the Valley of Four Drafts.” He pointed to a small brown spot. “Another V.F.D.”

“But there’s no markings in the valley,” Miss Caliban pointed out. “There’s just a stain, where Jacques must’ve accidentally spilled his coffee.”

“Maybe it wasn’t an accident,” Klaus replied. “A secret headquarters might have a secret way of marking it. I think the stain is the headquarters.”

“We have to get there- but we’re stranded until the previous Madame Lulu gets back.”

“Not necessarily,” Violet said. “Do the rollercoaster carts have engines?”

“They do, but they don’t run- the radiator keeps overheating.”

“That sounds like a fan belt problem. You need to transmit torque from the engine to cool the radiator. I can get it running, but it may take all night.”

“Then we’ll leave first thing tomorrow,” Miss Caliban replied. “I’ll pack my library and food for the journey. I can keep Olaf distracted until then.” She smiled. “I’ve wanted to help you since the moment you set foot in my library. We’ve all lost people we love, but we’ve found each other, and I promise, if one of your parents really is alive, we’ll find them, too. But now we must hurry, before Count Olaf gets back.”

“There’s something I still don’t understand, though,” Klaus said. “Our parents were in VFD, but so was Olaf. So, if V.F.D a noble organization, or a wicked one?”

“Jacques said that there was a time when V.F.D was noble. They collected brilliant children and trained them to put out fires, both literal and figurative. But then there was a schism- do you know what that means?”

“A division between members of the same organization,” Klaus replied. He couldn't remember the last time he’d met an adult who actually asked him or his sisters whether they knew what a word meant, rather than just assuming that they didn’t.

“That’s right. One side decided that it was better to start fires, than to put them out. The schism seems to have faded in and out of relevance- the most recent split happened one night at the opera, after a certain sugar bowl-”

Before she could finish, though, she was interrupted by an all-too-familiar voice.

Violet

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for an interruption!” Olaf barked, from outside the tent.

“Shit,” Sunny muttered, and this once, Violet decided not to pull her up for it.

Quickly, she and Klaus hurried back into their disguise, this time with Miss Caliban’s help. Prospero disappeared back into Violet’s overall pocket, and Klaus took off his glasses again, and before long, they were back to looking like Beverly and Elliot.

“If you’re in a tent, if you’re in a caravan, if you’re in the men’s room, wash your hands and come on out!” they could hear Olaf continue to shout.

“How do we look?” Violet asked.

“Your ribbon,” Miss Caliban said, pulling out the strip of white cloth and handing it to her. Quickly, Violet shoved it in her pocket. “Go on, then, I’ll be right behind you.”

They exited Lulu’s tent, and followed the crowd into the main circus tent. They stood beside Hugo, who opened his mouth to say something to them, before Olaf spoke again.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, freaks and normal people, I am pleased to announce a brand-new attraction at Caligari Carnival!”

“That is good news, because this popcorn is really stale,” said a man in the audience.

“It is good news!” Olaf agreed. “This show is about to get a lot more entertaining, and not just because I’m back in it. Who here is familiar with the ancient art of sorcer-er… sorcer-ger… Magic?”

“Do you mean sorcery?” Esmé suggested.

“Indeed- though I’m surprised that you could hear me, with something in your ear!” He reached behind Esmé’s head and drew out a bouquet of flowers.

“That’s not that impressive,” grumbled the same man who’d spoken earlier. “Maybe if it was doves.”

“Really? Well, then, how about this?” Olaf replied, going over to the man and proceeding to pull several scarves out of his pocket, finally pulling out what looked like a dead dove and dropping the lot on the floor.

“Well, I don’t know what I expected,” Hugo muttered.

“That’s a little impressive,” conceded the man.

“You know what’s a lot impressive?” Olaf asked. He stepped back, away from the ring, which was covered in a red and gold striped cloth. “Behold!” he declared, grabbing the edge of the cloth and pulling it away with a flourish. “A pair of starving lions!”

Sure enough, there were two lions in the pit. They started to roar and growl, like they’d waited until now to make their presence known. Quickly, Kevin stepped forward, ushering Hugo, Colette and the Baudelaires behind him, both arms out to shield them from the lions. It didn’t seem like they were in any danger right now, but Violet appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have a very special surprise for you. Lions are carnivorous, which means they eat meat.”

“That’s not a surprise,” the man pointed out. “Everyone knows that.”

“Have you just got an answer for everything?” Olaf grumbled. “These lions have not been given any meat, not a single drop of food. They’re starving.”

“That seems cruel,” the man replied. “And not much of a show.”

“Come back tomorrow, Mr. Heckler-man, when we will randomly select one freak from the House of Freaks, and we will watch as the lions devour them.”

Violet felt Sunny grab onto her leg, hiding her face in her disguise. She saw Hugo and Colette grab onto Kevin’s arms, like it was the only thing keeping them from collapsing. However, as much as she was horrified too, she couldn't help spying something on Esmé’s belt- the tagliatelle grande. It was long, and starchy, and it would probably go well with a variety of nice sauces, but to Violet’s eyes, it was shaped quite a bit like a solution.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty-Two: In Which Opportunity Comes Knocking

Klaus

Klaus waited until they were back at the caravan before talking to Violet. Kevin was busy making dinner, and Sunny was sitting close by him, babbling suggestions. Hugo and Colette were attempting to play cards, but neither of their hearts really seemed to be in it. Everyone was distracted with something, making it the perfect opportunity to talk.

“I saw your face at the pit,” he whispered. “You’ve got a solution.”

“The tagliatelle grande,” she replied.

“You mean the giant noodle Olaf uses as a whip?”

“It’s long and rubbery, I could use it as a fan belt to fix the engine.” She shot a quick glance at the others. “We can fix it tonight, when everybody’s sleeping.”

“Dinner's ready,” Kevin said, his voice flat and his presumably equally strong shoulders slumping. “We might as well enjoy it, it could be the last tom kha gai we ever eat.”

“Tom kha who?” Hugo asked.

“It’s a soup common to Thailand, made from chicken, vegetables, fancy mushrooms, ginger, coconut milk and water chestnut,” Klaus explained.

“Chabo grated the ginger with her teeth,” Kevin added. “For a feral monster, she’s very helpful in the kitchen. If she wasn’t a freak, she could be an excellent chef.”

“She’s gonna be an excellent chef anyway,” Violet replied.

“That reminds me,” Colette said, setting down her spoon for a moment and resting her foot on the table. “There’s something I wanted to say, while we’re all still here and alive.” She looked at Violet and Klaus. “I know that you two aren’t really conjoined twins.”

Klaus stared at her, unable to believe what he was hearing. Was their disguise really so spurious, that not only did Miss Caliban know it was fake, but apparently Colette did too? How many more people knew? Olaf? Esmé? The troupe?

“How… how can you know that?” he managed after a minute.

“Don’t worry, it’s not something most people can identify. I only know because I knew a pair of conjoined twins, from a different circus, the one I was at before I came here.” She sighed. “Conjoined twins have identical dæmons, they don’t share one between them. The ones I knew, Evie and Linnie, they had identical chickens. But most people wouldn't think of that. They’d assume that because you share one body, you’d have one dæmon.”

“Oh,” Klaus said, unable to think what else to say.

“Is that all you’ve got to say, then?” Hugo snapped. “You’ve been lying to us this whole time, and would’ve kept on doing so had Colette not said something, and all you have to say is oh?”

“Hugo, come on,” Kevin said. “I’m sure there’s an explanation for this.”

“Oh, it’s all fine for you, Mr. Ambidexterity. You realise you could just walk out of this carnival and hitch a ride back to the City, and nobody would treat you any differently? Nobody would even know you were ambidextrous if you weren’t constantly drawing attention to it. Both of you could just leave and have normal lives, and nobody would have to know there was anything different about you. Here I was, thinking that finally, finally there was somebody here who’d get what it’s like to not be able to stop being seen as a freak, who doesn’t get the luxury of passing as normal, and it turns out no, it’s just a couple of kids playing dress up. Why did you do it?” His attention was back on Violet and Klaus. “Why did you do it?”

“We had to,” Violet said. “For complicated reasons, we can’t let anyone know our true identities, and people know what we look like- people who would kill us if they knew we were here- so we had to disguise ourselves. I know it was wrong, and I’m so sorry, we all are. But we didn’t know what else to do.”

“So, you’re outcasts,” Kevin said eventually. “Just like the rest of us.” He sighed, and turned to Hugo. “Look, if the House of Freaks is for anyone, it’s for people who don’t have anywhere else to go. People don’t just come here and subject themselves to daily public humiliation if they have better options. So, I say we let them stick around. What about you guys?”

“I agree,” Colette said. “Us outcasts have to stick together, you know? What do you think, Hugo?”

For a while, Hugo didn’t say anything. He just looked at each of them in turn and then down at his soup, before finally, he replied.

“Fine. I guess you’re right, both of you. Us outcasts do have to stick together.” He sighed, and took a spoonful of soup. “Of course, we’re all gonna be eaten by lions by this time next week, so I guess it hardly matters.” He paused, eating a little more soup. “I mean, I’m not exactly crazy about this devouring plan, but the visitors to the carnival seem to be excited, so I guess it’s good for business.”

“Everybody loves violence, especially when it’s combined with sloppy eating,” Colette pointed out, using her foot to pick up her spoon again.

“That’s not a dilemma!” Klaus snapped. He wondered if he should ditch the fake voice, but decided it was better to keep as much of the disguise up as possible. “None of you should jump to your deaths just to entertain a crowd, there are better things to do than get eaten!”

“Like what?” Colette asked.

“Like, literally anything,” Klaus replied. “Y’all never know when an opportunity will knock.”

Violet

Just as Klaus said that, there was a knock at the door. Violet stared at her co-workers, silently begging them to keep her siblings’ secret, despite the obvious betrayal of trust they’d all subjected them to. It was just their luck Colette would’ve met an actual pair of conjoined twins, wasn’t it? With the confession out of the way, Prospero had crawled out onto the table, something Violet hadn’t even noticed until she’d dropped her gaze back to the table, and saw him sitting next to her soup bowl.

“Open up!” barked Esmé Squalor. Shit, Violet thought. They were just having a great streak of luck tonight, weren’t they? “Hurry up, I want to talk to you!”

“I’m hurry-upping, Ms. Squalor!” Hugo replied, which seemed like a curious way of putting it. Quickly, he turned back to the others. “Beverly,” he hissed. “Hide your you-know-what, quickly!”

He flapped his hands in her general direction, like he was pushing something out of sight. Violet complied quickly- even though Hugo wasn’t standing anywhere near her, and even though she had no reason to believe that he would do anything bad, she still wanted to get Prospero out of reach, away from his flapping hands.

“Alright, let’s be on our behaviour,” he continued. “It’s not often a normal person wants to talk to us.”

“We’ll be good,” Colette replied. “I won’t bend into a single strange position.” That did not seem to include having her foot up on the table the way most people would have their hands, Violet noted.

“I’ll only use my left hand,” Kevin added. “Or maybe my right. No, hang on, left is probably better.”

“If we had time I’d suggest tossing a coin, but as it is I’m just gonna say I think left hand works fine,” Hugo replied, before opening the door.

Esmé came striding in, wearing the same red and gold gown she’d worn earlier. Except, now she had a white sash across the chest, with the words “I Heart Freaks” on it. Yes, she actually had a loveheart symbol instead of the word Love. She also had what looked like a toy giraffe with a baby doll’s head attached to her shoulder. Sacchario, who had a red cape, looked perfectly normal by comparison.

“I am Esmé Gigi Genevieve Squalor,” she said.

“Yes, we know who you are,” Kevin replied.

“And as you can see from my sash, I love freaks,” Esmé continued, as though he hadn’t spoken.

“That’s so nice of you,” Colette said.

“Yes, it is. I had this sash made to show just how much I love them. And see this stuffed animal, it’s sort of like a hunchback, and this creepy little face is like I have two heads.”

She was talking pretty fast, Violet noticed. She glanced at her co-workers, to see how they were taking it, and they seemed almost spellbound, possibly too busy keeping up with what Esmé was saying to notice how she was saying it. But the sugary sweet tone her former guardian was using was familiar to Violet- it was the same voice she’d used right before she’d taken her and her siblings out into the hall outside that penthouse, before she’d pushed them down an elevator shaft. It couldn't mean anything good now.

“You certainly look very freakish,” Colette replied. Esmé wrinkled her nose, like that wasn’t the response she’d hoped for.

“Of course, I’m not really a freak,” she said firmly. “I’m a normal person. But I wanted to show you all how much I admire you. I admire you so much, I consider you to be more than employees at a carnival I happen to be visiting. I consider you to be some of my closest friends.”

“Oh, Esmé, do you really mean it?” Colette asked.

Don’t listen to her! Violet wanted to scream. She doesn’t consider you a close friend, she doesn’t give a single shit about you! But it was no good. Even if she could convince her co-workers to listen to her- and why should they, after she and her siblings had lied to them?- there was no way to convince them of Esmé’s true nature without revealing how they knew her, and thus revealing their identities to not only the three of them, but to Esmé as well.

“Of course I mean it! I’d rather be with you than with some of the finest people in the world.”

“Wow, it’s been a long time since a normal person called me a friend,” Kevin said.

“Well, that’s what you are,” Esmé replied. “You’re all my freaky friends. And it makes me terribly sad to think that one of you will be eaten by lions. I have real tears in my eyes just thinking about it.” She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, though Violet highly doubted she was actually dabbing away anything, unless she was one of those people that could cry on command.

“Oh, close friend, don’t be sad!” Hugo said, reaching out to pat her hand. Esmé jerked her hand back, smacking it for good measure.

“I can’t help it,” she said. “But I have an opportunity for you all, that might make us all very, very happy.”

“Well, we were just saying that an opportunity could come along at any minute,” Hugo replied, rubbing the hand she’d hit.

“That’s very true. Come outside, and we can discuss it properly.”

Sunny

Esmé refused to tell them what her big opportunity was until they had all got out of the caravan and lit a fire, using wood Kevin cut for them. They got through the cutting part twice as fast, cause he could cut two at once. Sunny thought she’d have to tell him that this was another obvious advantage to having two strong hands later. Maybe if he saw enough good things about his situation, he’d feel better about it, and not be so grumpy. Then she’d just have to work on cheering the others up.

“Now that we’ve split these logs and started this fire like you asked, what’s the opportunity you were talking about?” Kevin asked.

“I am offering you the chance to quit your jobs at the House of Freaks, and join Count Olaf and myself in his troupe.”

“Are you sure he’d want to work with people like us?” Colette asked.

“Of course he would! Count Olaf doesn’t care whether you’re hideously freakish or normal, as long as you obey his every whim without reason.”

“Would we all be able to stay together this way?” Colette asked.

“Yes, of course you would! And you’d never have to be publicly humiliated ever again!” She smiled, and clapped her hands together. “If you’re interested, all you have to do is one simple task- commit a murder.”

“Excuse me?” Colette asked, looking genuinely surprised. Good- something had to bring the three of them back to their senses.

“You heard me. During the lion show, Count Olaf will choose one freak to jump into the pit. However, I want whomever is chosen to throw Madame Lulu in instead.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you want us to murder Madame Lulu?” Hugo asked.

“Yes, what about this isn’t clicking?” She sighed. “Look, think of it as a dramatic exercise, to show Count Olaf you’re brave enough to join his troupe.”

“Throwing Madame Lulu into a pit of lions doesn’t strike me as brave,” Klaus said. “Just vicious and cruel.”

“How can it be vicious and cruel to give people what they want?” Esmé asked. “You want to join Count Olaf’s troupe, the crowd wants to see someone get eaten by lions, and I want Lulu thrown into the pit.”

Sunny couldn't believe she was hearing this. They couldn't kill Miss Caliban, she was one of the only nice grown-ups left! Besides, Sunny and her siblings were meant to be helping her escape. They’d have to move quickly with that, then.

“What happens if we don’t do it?” Hugo asked.

“Well, I’d expect you just get picked off by the lions one by one, until you’re all dead. And whoever is left can live with the knowledge that none of this had to happen if their fallen co-worker had just taken the opportunity to give everybody what they wanted.”

“Why do you even want to throw Madame Lulu to the lions, anyway?” Violet asked.

“She reminds me an awful lot of someone I once knew. I’m sure you’ll understand more when you’re older- or, actually, you probably won’t.” She looked around at the five of them. “You all seem far less excited about this than I thought you would, I must say.”

“Well, I just don’t know if throwing Madame Lulu to the lions is a great idea, but I don’t know if I like the alternative either,” Hugo replied.

“Yeah- why does anyone have to be fed to the lions? Why can’t we just give them a normal diet, and then when they’re feeling better, we let them go so they can go back to chasing antelopes and waxing poetic about the circle of life like they’re supposed to?” Kevin added.

“Please don’t tell me all your knowledge about lions comes from The Lion King…” Colette grumbled. “Anyway, I agree too.”

“So do we,” Violet said, gesturing to herself and Klaus. Sunny nodded emphatically.

“Someone has to be fed to the damn lions, and it’s going to be Madame Lulu. If I have to do it myself I will, but I would really rather one of you did it instead. And if you aren’t willing, then I will gladly toss each and every one of you into that pit, since you’re clearly too cowardly to be of any use anyway.” She shook her head. “Look. Think about it like this. If you don’t do it, then what other options do you have? If you don’t do the villainous thing, then what else can you do? Now get your shit together, freaks, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

She strode off then, passing Sunny on her way. Sunny was glad, not for the first time, that she was so much smaller than her siblings- and that she wasn’t attached to anyone like they were. It meant she could reach out and grab the big noodle Esmé had attached to her belt. She hadn’t quite caught Violet’s face at the pit, but this did look like something her sister could use. And even if she couldn't, it was better in the care of someone who would actually be able to make something with it. Like cut it into smaller pieces and serve it with a nice sauce. They could all have a bit, it was certainly big enough.

“Nice work,” Violet whispered, taking the noodle off her.

“You kids don’t need to worry about tomorrow,” Kevin told them. “Whatever happens, we’ll take care of it.”

The three of them went back into the caravan then, leaving Sunny and her siblings outside by the fire.

Violet

Once the coast was clear, they made their way over to the roller-coaster. Violet looked at the first cart, which was bright yellow, and had a duck’s face attached to it. Not the coolest mode of transportation, but hopefully it would get the job done.

“It looks pretty run-down,” she said. “This won’t be easy.”

Checking that there was nobody around, she and Klaus quickly dropped the outer shell of their disguise, so they could move around more easily. Violet reached into the pocket of her pink overalls, but it was empty.

“I can’t find that ribbon Sunny made me, from that doctor’s coat.”

“Will this work?” Klaus asked, offering a loose thread from their costume.

Violet nodded, and tied her hair up. She wondered what had happened to that other makeshift ribbon- it must’ve fallen out back in Olivia’s tent. She didn’t have time to worry about that, though, she was too busy worrying about whether she could really repair this roller-coaster with so little resources.

“Sunny, could you untangle the ivy for me? And Klaus, get me pliers and a half-inch wrench, I’m gonna take a look at this engine.”

Somebody had left a half-empty toolkit next to the roller-coaster, like they’d meant to fix it but hadn’t got round to it yet. She noticed two initials on the inside of the box- K.S- and wondered for a moment who the kit had belonged to.

“Simba,” Sunny observed after a while, pointing in the direction of the lions, who they could all hear roaring from here. The lions aren’t sleeping tonight.

“They don’t sound ferocious, just sad,” Klaus said.

“I feel sorry for them, they don’t deserve to be starved for entertainment,” Violet added, as she got to work on the engine. “Kevin was right, they deserve to run free and be fed normally.”

“What are we going to do about them, by the way?” Klaus asked.

“Well, obviously, we’re taking them with us. That way we’re all safe from the lions. Besides, it’s the least we can do.”

“Fends don’t lie,” Sunny added. “We lied.”

“I know, and now we have a chance to make up for it. So, let’s get to work.”

“We can’t get too caught up in saving the day, though,” Klaus pointed out. “We still have to get to the Headquarters, remember?”

“Oh, don’t worry, we will. And we’ll find the survivor, whoever they are.” She passed the tagliatelle grande to Sunny. “Do your thing, Sunshine.”

“Rather cook it,” Sunny replied. “But okay.” She bit the noodle in half, making it a bit more manageable.

Finally, just as the sun was starting to come up, they finished repairing the cart. They’d need to attach another one to it, to make room for everything and everybody they were bringing, but at least now they knew it would run.

“The engine should be able to get us to the mountains,” Violet said.

“Will it be able to hold the weight of Lulu’s archival library?” Klaus asked.

“Let’s test it out.” They got into the front seats of the car, and Violet put the toolkit in the back to add a bit more weight. “Riding a roller-coaster is the sort of activity normal children do, why shouldn’t we?”

She switched on the engine, and they were off, trundling along the track. Of course, they weren’t out of the woods yet, not by a long shot. But they had a path out now, and there was light at the end of it. That was enough for now, Violet thought, allowing herself a moment of genuine happiness, hoping it wouldn't be her last.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty-Three: In Which The Suspense Is Increased

Sunny

They finished the roller-coaster just in time. No sooner had Violet and Klaus put their disguise back on, than they could hear people coming into the carnival. They seemed to have come from all over the place- there were people from the Village of Fowl Devotees, a few doctors and nurses from the hospital, and people who might be from the City, it was hard to say.

Worse than that, though, was a few very familiar faces. Mr Remora and Mrs Bass, from Prufrock Prep, and, of all the people, Mrs. Poe. Wow, they really had just traded one Poe for another, hadn’t they? Except this one wasn’t even pretending to be here to help them, she seemed to be here to write a story for the paper- she had a camera and everything.

They spied Miss Caliban, who shot them a smile. Sunny wished they could go over and tell her about the roller-coaster, but there were too many people now, there was no way they could just slip away unnoticed- especially not when everybody would be expecting to see them in the tent.

They all entered the tent, the audience filling up the rows of seats and Sunny and her siblings falling into place beside Hugo, Colette and Kevin.

“Where did you kids go last night?” Kevin whispered.

“We were fixing the-” Violet began, but before she could finish explaining, Olaf took centre stage, and drowned out whatever she might have been planning to say.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this may be the most exciting day of your entire lives!” he declared. Sunny thought they must have different definitions of “exciting.” “Welcome, welcome, welcome, to the Caligari Carnival’s Big Top Finale!” The crowd cheered and clapped. “Thank you, thank you. I am your ringmaster, Count Olaf- not to be confused, of course, with Count Omar, who is dead.” He paused to let them clap again. “Now, ladies and gentlemen, as you can see, inside this pit are two starving lions. And beside this pit, are five delicious freaks!”

“I don’t want you kids worrying about Esmé’s plan,” Kevin whispered. “Even if you’re chosen, one of us will do the deed. You’re too young to have anyone’s blood on your hands.”

“Thanks,” Violet whispered, though Sunny suspected that was more because she thought she should say something, and not because she was actually thankful someone else was going to kill Miss Caliban.

“Look closely at all these freaks!” Olaf said. “Observe Hugo’s hideous hump! Cackle at Colette's cockamamie contortions! Giggle at the absurdity of Kevin's ambidextrous arms! Snicker at Beverly and Elliot, the two-headed freak! Laugh so hard you can hardly breathe at Chabo the Wolf Baby!”

“I hope it’s Chabo,” someone in the audience said, and Sunny had to hide her face in Violet’s trouser leg at that. That was her they were talking about, her they wanted to see dead. She didn’t think she could do this, she really didn’t.

“I hope it’s the guy with hooks instead of hands!” someone else shouted.

“I’m not a freak, I’m playing the calliope!” the hook-handed man protested.

“It’ll be whoever I say it is!” Olaf snapped. “Speaking of which, it’s time for the choosing ceremony to commence!” He paused, gesturing to Miss Caliban, who had come to stand near them. “The names of each and every freak have been written down on small pieces of paper, folded up and placed inside the box that this lovely young lady is holding.”

“I don't think she's particularly lovely,” Esmé grumbled.

“Play along, we’ll think of something,” Miss Caliban hissed. She hopped up onto the small box next to the one Olaf was standing on top of, and held up the box.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I will reach inside the box, pull out one piece of paper, unfold it, and read the name of the chosen freak out loud. Then that freak will then walk down this wooden plankway, jump into the pit, and we'll all watch as the lions eat him.”

“Or her!” Esmé added, looking pointedly at Sunny and her co-workers, both hands held up like she was about to give something- or someone- a good push.

“Or her,” Olaf repeated. “Before we begin, does anyone have any questions?”

“Why do you get to pick the name?” someone in the audience asked.

“Because it was my idea,” Olaf replied.

“I have a question- is this legal?” asked a small boy.

“Oh, don’t spoil the fun!” Olaf snapped, which Sunny thought was a little harsh, even for him.

Klaus

After what seemed like an eternity, the moment of truth was almost here. Olaf reached into the box and drew out a folded piece of paper.

“I will now unfold this piece of paper very slowly, in order to increase the suspense!” he announced.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Klaus muttered.

He was already on edge as it was, not knowing what was going to happen to him, his sisters, his co-workers or Miss Caliban. Olaf prolonging the torture like this was the last thing he needed right now.

“Local Count Unfolds Paper!” Mrs. Poe exclaimed. “Wait until the readers of the Daily Punctilio hear about that!”

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am now unfolding the first fold in the piece of paper!” Olaf continued. He went on like that, unfolding the paper and announcing every single new fold.

“Is this gonna be scary?” Klaus heard a small girl in the audience ask.

“Don’t worry, Trixie,” the man behind her replied. It was the same one from yesterday, the heckler. “This was advertised as family entertainment, I’m sure whoever is eaten by lions deserves it.”

“Nobody deserves to get eaten by lions,” Klaus whispered, so only Violet would hear.

“Except maybe Count Olaf,” she replied. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I don’t like to think it, but I’m thinking it.” That wasn’t strictly true- after everything that had happened at the hospital, the prospect of killing Olaf no longer seemed so far-fetched- if anything, he would gladly do it if it kept him and his sisters safe.

“I did one more fold, and that was the last fold!” Olaf announced. Good for you, Klaus thought. “Ladies and gentlemen, today’s lucky freak proves that two heads are better than one! Beverley and Elliot, step on up!”

“No!” Hugo said, stepping forward. “No, let one of us go instead.”

“It’s alright,” Klaus said. “Really, we’re thrilled to be chosen.”

“But-” Colette started.

“No buts! Beverley, Elliot, jump into that pit so we can all watch you get devoured by lions!” Olaf barked.

Nodding, they made their way onto the plank. They had to shuffle awkwardly in order to keep their balance, trying not to fall off before they reached the edge of the plank. Klaus’s terror was very real, as the lions roared beneath them. One false move, and it would all be over. Finally they reached the edge of the plank, but went no further.

“Get in there!” Olaf barked. “What’s the hold up, just jump!”

“My other head and I were thinking,” Klaus said.

“Thinking with both heads,” Violet added.

“Instead of watching a freak jump into the lion pit, wouldn't it be more exciting…”

“To watch a freak get pushed?”

“This would be more violent, please,” Miss Caliban agreed.

However, the look she was giving Violet and Klaus was less, Yeah, this sounds like a great idea! And more, What the fuck do you two think you’re playing at? Do you have a death wish or something? The audience was much more enthusiastic, though, which did not surprise Klaus in the least.

“I would definitely like to see someone get pushed into the pit!” Esmé chipped in, her hands held out in a pushing gesture again, not so subtly nodding in Miss Caliban’s general direction. Not a chance, Klaus thought.

“And who, pray tell, do you imagine performing such a dangerous job?” Olaf asked.

“Well, we were hoping that you might be willing to do it,” Klaus replied. “After all, you are the star of the show!”

“Ringmaster Throws Two-Headed Freak Into Pit Full Of Starving Lions!” Mrs. Poe declared. “Wait until the readers of the Daily Punctilio see that!”

“Well, we can’t let the readers of the Daily Punctilio down, can we?” Violet asked.

“No, we cannot,” Olaf replied. He moved over to the plank, but as soon as one of the lions roared at him, he jumped back. “Of course, I am deeply honoured to have been asked, but I am afraid that I couldn't possibly go any further than here.”

“Why not?” Klaus asked, trying not to sound as pissed off as he felt.

“I am allergic to cats.”

“Really?” he asked. What he wanted to say was, Well, isn’t that just utterly convenient? But that seemed unwise.

“Wow,” said the hook-handed man. “I didn't even know you had allergies, boss.”

“I have an idea!” Esmé exclaimed, as though the idea had just occurred to her. “Madame Lulu, why don’t you walk down the plank and throw the freak to its death!”

“Of course!” Olaf replied. “After all, Madame Lulu is the reason we’re all here today!” He turned to address the crowd. “What do you think, violence fans? Do you want to see Madame Lulu throw Beverley and Elliot into the pit?!” The crowd cheered and roared to show their enthusiasm at this idea.

“Hit her with something, that’ll get her moving!” Mrs. Bass shouted.

Klaus wondered if she would be this eager if she knew it was Miss Caliban underneath the wig and the jewellery, or if it would make much of a difference. Maybe they hadn’t gotten along back when they’d worked together at Prufrock Prep.

“That will not be necessary, please,” Miss Caliban replied, and made her own way down to the end of the plank, stopping just in front of Violet and Klaus and putting an arm around each of them.

“What do we do?” Klaus whispered.

“I don’t know,” she whispered back, her voice free of its accent for a moment.

“Stop whispering!” Olaf snapped.

“We’re increasing suspense!” Klaus snapped back.

He tried to sound braver than he actually felt, the last thing he wanted was for Olaf to see his fear. But it was hard, with the lions roaring below, and the crowd baying for blood, and his feet so perilously close to the edge. What on Earth were they going to do?

Sunny

While this had been going on, Sunny had positioned herself beside the small wall surrounding the pit. It was just low enough for her to rest her chin over it, and see what was going on. There had to be something she could do, some way to stop this from happening. She couldn't lose Violet and Klaus, she just couldn't. She didn’t know what she’d do without them- she wasn’t that self-sustaining, not yet.

“The suspense has been increased enough!” Olaf declared. “This is the moment we’ve all been waiting for! If Madame Lulu is not brave enough to toss them, then whoever volunteers to do so will get a special reward!”

“I have a plan,” Sunny could hear Kevin say to the others. “Don’t worry, it’s gonna be fine.” In a louder voice, he shouted, “I’ll do it! I’m brave enough!”

Unfortunately, most of the audience had decided they wanted to join in too- they must’ve been tipped off by the word reward- because several of them came down from their seats, and before long, there was a big crowd of people around the ring. Even Olaf’s henchpeople were getting in on the action, and everyone was shouting and running around, and Sunny had to hunch up small to avoid getting trodden on.

“Where’s Chabo?!” Hugo asked, trying to make himself heard over the crowd.

“Here!” Sunny said, raising her hand. Hugo grabbed it, and Sunny held on tight, thinking that if she could do that, then everything might just be okay.

“You’re okay, kid, you’re gonna be okay.” He turned to Colette, who was the only one who wasn’t saying anything. She was standing very still, and her eyes looked far away, as if she was remembering something nasty. “Colette, take her, get her out of here!” Colette didn’t move. “Colette, come on!” Hugo sighed. “I know what you’re thinking about, okay, but I need you to snap out of it for now. What matters is that you both get out of here.”

Colette nodded, and she lifted Sunny up off the ground, holding her close. Normally she hated to be picked up and carried around, especially by someone who wasn’t one of her siblings, but as Colette brought her out of the tent and to safety, she decided she didn’t mind, that just this once she’d allow it.

Once they were outside, Colette slumped down beside the wall of the tent, still holding Sunny. She sung her a song about an elephant, and told her everything was going to be okay. Sunny really hoped that would be true. If it wasn’t, she didn’t know what she was going to do.

Violet

Violet was shaking pretty hard now. All around her was noise and chaos, and it seemed they were out of time and out of options. They were going to die here, Sunny was going to be all alone, they were never going to find their surviving parent or stop Olaf or-

“Violet,” Miss Caliban whispered, just loud enough for her and Klaus to hear. “Violet, it’s alright.” She paused. “Do you trust me?”

Before either of them could respond, she gave them both a hard shove. They went flying, and for a moment, Violet couldn't breathe, sure they were about to land in the pit. But then they landed with a hard thump on the side of the pit, alive and safe. They scrambled to their feet- and if anyone noticed they moved slightly more like two people sharing clothes than one person with two heads, they didn’t say so.

“Go!” Miss Caliban shouted, her foreign accent gone entirely now. “I'm right behind you! I’ve been behind you all along!”

Turning around, they fled the tent, stepping quickly over the wall and running the rest of the way. They didn’t look back, didn’t hear Olaf putting the pieces together, didn’t see Miss Caliban’s last stand- or the moment when her dæmon fluttered down onto her open palm, both of them knowing what they had to do if they didn’t want to feel the pain of the lions tearing them apart. A clenched fist, the slicing of a rope, and it was over. But for the Baudelaires, there was only the fresh air outside the tent, and the relief of having escaped with their lives. Now they just had to figure out where to go from here.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty-Four: In Which The Baudelaires Find Themselves In The Belly Of The Beast

Klaus

Once they were outside, they fetched Sunny, whom Colette had apparently taken out of the tent at some point during the chaos, and made their way into Miss Caliban’s tent. Klaus told Colette to go and get Hugo and Kevin and meet them by the rollercoaster, and they went inside the tent.

“Do you think she’s okay?” Klaus asked.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine, she said she’d be right behind us, remember?” Violet replied. “We have to be ready to go, though, come on.”

Quickly, they slipped out of their disguise. Miss Caliban had already started packing everything away into boxes, so Violet and Klaus set about finishing what she’d started. Klaus allowed himself a small smile when he found a battered, well-read but still familiar dark grey book- The Incomplete History of Secret Organisations.

“Miss Caliban did promise that she’d find it for us,” he said.

“Hopefully she’ll be able to take us through some of her research on the way up to the mountains,” Violet replied.

“...The show’s not over yet,” said a painfully familiar voice from outside the tent.

“Shit,” Sunny muttered, as Violet and Klaus quickly scrambled back into their disguise, finishing just in time for Olaf and Esmé to come walking into the tent. Esmé was carrying a handful of ivy like a bouquet, and both looked disturbingly pleased with themselves.

“What are you cowards doing here?” Esmé asked.

“These five freaks may well be cowards, but they’re also very lucky- I’m prepared to offer them a place in my troupe anyway.”

“That’s very kind of you to offer, but you don’t want cowards like us in your troupe,” Klaus replied.

“Sure we do!” Esmé said. “You never know when you might lose an associate- just look at Madame Lulu!”

“What?” Violet asked, staring at her in horror.

“Oh, you didn’t know? Well, I suppose you wouldn't, since she crushed that fluttery little dæmon of hers as soon as she saw the knife- she was dead before she even started to fall into the pit.”

“No!” Klaus shouted, nearly breaking from his disguised voice.

“Yes,” Olaf replied. “And that’s not all- we’re burning down this carnival, starting with that rickety old rollercoaster. See for yourself!”

Sunny

Sunny couldn't believe any of this. First, she’d been happy, because Violet and Klaus were okay after all, and they were going to get out of this stinky carnival, find Mama or Papa and everything was gonna work out fine. But now, Miss Caliban was dead, and the carnival was being set on fire- including the roller-coaster they were meant to be using to get out of here.

“So, you see,” Esmé said, a hand over her mouth like she was trying very hard not to laugh, “If you don’t join us, where can you possibly go?”

“Where… where are you going?” Klaus asked.

Just then, Olaf spied the map he’d been carrying, and proceeded to try and grab it from him. Klaus held on tightly, but eventually Olaf managed to wrestle it from his grasp. He opened it up and looked at it, and for a moment, Sunny hoped he wouldn't notice the special brown mark.

“I haven’t seen one of these in years,” he said.

Sunny hated that she’d let herself hope he wouldn’t notice. She was too big for hoping things like that now, she should really know better. Nothing ever went how it was supposed to, and it was no use hoping or wishing otherwise.

“A small brown stain?” Esmé replied. “You saw one of those this morning, remember, when you spilled your coffee?”

“Yes, but this is a coded stain,” Olaf explained. “It’s used to mark a secret location without anyone else noticing. And this stain happens to mark the secret location of one of VFD’s main headquarters. I haven’t been there in years- not since that masked ball when I failed to push a woman in a dragonfly costume off a cliff. Who knew those wings worked?”

“So this is a map to VFD headquarters, then?” Esmé asked.

“It would certainly appear that way. It makes sense, though- that must be where the survivor of the fire is hiding- it seems like Madame Lulu, or whatever her real name was, gave us one last answer after all.”

“You know, I really am going to miss her,” Esmé replied. Sunny doubted that very, very much, but knew better than to say so.

“Pack your mittens, kitten, cause we’re going to the Mortmain Mountains,” Olaf said. “Now, I wonder if Lulu left anything else useful here.”

“I don’t see anything useful,” Klaus replied.

“I think you’re lying to me,” Olaf said.

“My… my other head is telling the truth,” Violet said, which Sunny thought was quite brave, since Olaf seemed to really, really scare her these days, more so than he did already.

“Well, then, what is that box of food doing there?” He pointed to the box in question. Sunny had been pleased to see Miss Caliban had thought to pack it, and she’d already been thinking of all the things she could do with its contents. “Don’t you think food would be useful on a long journey?”

Sunny growled at him- she’d wanted to tell him not to take the food, they were going to need that, but she didn’t know enough words to say that, and she was still pretending to be a wolf baby, so growling would have to do.

“Chabo compliments you on your cleverness,” Klaus said, and Sunny gave another small growl, as if to say, Chabo says no such thing! “We hadn’t noticed it.”

“Well, obviously you didn’t- that’s why I’m the boss, and now I boss you to carry that crate to my car, now!” He turned to go, but then paused, like he’d just decided on something. “There is something I want you to do first, though- I want you to light this tent on fire.”

“Really?” Klaus asked.

“Yes, really. You’re with us now, freaks. Really light this tent on fire, really destroy all these papers and notes, and the rest of Madame Lulu’s boring old clutter, and then meet me at the car when you’re done. Chabo, you’re coming with me.”

“No, no, Chabo would prefer to stay with us!” Violet said, and Sunny growled in agreement.

“I could care less about what Chabo would prefer. I am the man in charge here, not this feral little monster.”

“Chabo, run!” Klaus said.

Sunny didn’t need to be told twice. She ran as fast as she could through the tent, thinking that if she could get to the wall, she could crawl under it, and- there was a pain in the back of her neck. Sharp and pinching, it was enough to knock her down to the floor. The pain didn’t let up, and she couldn't think where it was coming from- couldn't think of much of anything, really- until Esmé walked calmly over to her and scooped her up off the floor, and she was able to look down and see that Sacchario had the scruff of Oliver’s neck clamped in his bright orange beak.

“Let them go!” Violet shouted. “Let them go right now!”

“If Wolfie here didn’t want this, she shouldn’t have tried to run away, now, should she?” Esmé replied. “Actions have consequences, dear.”

She left the tent, still carrying Sunny, Sacchario still holding Oliver. Sunny wanted to bite her arms, wanted to get free somehow, but she couldn't move, it hurt too much.

“Let go!” she shrieked instead. “Leggo, leggo, leggo!”

But Esmé didn’t let go- not until she had brought them over to Olaf’s car, tossed her inside, Sacchario tossing Oliver in after her, and locked them both in.

“What… what’s gonna happen to us?” he asked after a minute.

Sunny couldn't reply, she just curled up on the seat, already knowing that nothing could be worse than what had already just happened.

Violet

Violet couldn't believe that had really just happened. Mere minutes after the three of them had been reunited, Sunny had been taken away again. And that was to say nothing of the way she’d been taken- Violet could still hear her screaming from here, suggesting that Esmé’s dæmon still had hold of Oliver. Who did shit like that, hurting toddlers just to get them to behave? Well, obviously she knew who did shit like that, because they’d already done it, but that wasn’t the issue here. The issue was, how were they going to get Sunny back in one piece?

“You know, you’re lucky that there are so many books and films here- they’re highly flammable. Burn this tent down, and then you can join that little wolf baby in my acting troupe.” Olaf held out an unlit torch in one hand, a lit lighter in the other. He handed one to Klaus, the other to Violet. “It’s time to take up the torch.” He left the tent, then, like he expected them to just get on with it.

“We should’ve killed him when we had the chance,” Klaus said, as soon as he was gone. “Then Miss Caliban would be alive and Sunny would be safe.”

“If we did that, would we be just as bad as him?”

“No. For fuck’s sake, Vi, this is not the time to be debating morals- if we’d taken him out it’d be a net good. You of all people should be with me on this one.”

Violet closed her eyes. She wondered when her innocent little brother had become this… bloodthirsty, and couldn't help feeling a bit responsible. This wouldn't have happened if she hadn’t gotten herself kidnapped back at Heimlich, surely.

“Maybe you’re right,” she conceded. “What are we going to do now, though? Should we light the fire or not?”

“He’s already got Sunny, and burned down the roller-coaster. We don’t exactly have a lot of options if we wanna get to the mountains, get our sister back and find our surviving parent.”

Just then, the tent door opened again, and Olaf came in- like he’d known they wouldn't actually be able to light the fire on their own.

“I know just how you feel,” he said. “I was once a goody-two-shoes little twerp who hated the very thought of arson, just like I’d been told to. But then I learned a little secret- sometimes, it’s better to light fires than it is to put them out. Let me show you.”

He lit the torch for them, and guided their hands to the nearest pile of books. The Incomplete History Of Secret Organisations sat at the top, and Violet watched as the book she and her siblings had wanted to get their hands on since they’d seen Aunt Josephine’s copy burn away. She caught a glimpse of one of the pages- an illustration of a VFD spyglass, several blocks of text- before it turned to ash.

“Get the food,” Olaf said, and led them back out of the tent. Once they were outside, he pointed in the direction of one of the caravans, which was being tied to the car by the dark-haired henchperson. “You can ride along in that thing- with so many new recruits, we’re getting mighty crowded.”

“Ow, your hooks are hurting me!” Kevin grumbled.

He, Colette, Hugo and their three dæmons had been shoved into the same trunk that Violet and her siblings had ridden here in. Had that really only been a couple days ago? It felt much longer. Colette had managed to fold herself up pretty small, and Gabriel had curled himself into a surprisingly little ball beside her, but it seemed like the others were having a harder time fitting into the small space.

“Get in the trunk, freak!” the hook-handed man snapped.

“I know a knot called the Devil’s Tongue, it might hold better,” Violet suggested. She wanted a moment to speak to her co-workers, and thought this might give her one. “I can tie it.”

“That’s a relief- I have no idea what I’m doing,” the dark-haired henchperson replied. They stood up and closed the trunk door. Well, so much for that idea, then.

Klaus

After Violet finished tying the caravan to the car, the two of them got in and tried to get comfortable. It was only the afternoon, and they were probably going to have a long journey ahead of them. Klaus wanted to believe they were doing the right thing by going with Olaf and Esmé- even if it was kind of the only thing they’d been able to do, given the circumstances.

“Do you think Sunny will be okay with Count Olaf?” he asked after a while. Do you think those pieces of shit have stopped torturing her into submission? was what he wanted to ask, but he couldn't bring himself to vocalise the question.

“Nobody’s okay with Count Olaf,” Violet replied. “But remember, it’s only until we reach the mountains. As soon as we’re together, we’ll escape and get to the headquarters.”

“What do you think we’ll find there?” Klaus asked.

Neither Baudelaire knew what the answer to that question would be- however, as your narrator, and because I do not know how long the next instalment in my investigation will take to reach the general public due to my editor having the flu, allow me to offer a few suggestions to tide us over, so we can all speculate about the future together. My research suggests that others are heading to the mountains alongside the Baudelaires- some good, some wicked, and one or two simply in need of a second chance. You may remember some of them, or you may simply think you do, only to be proven wrong, as the Baudelaires will be. And with that, I will leave you to mull this over- a phrase which here means, think about it when you are finished reading this dreary tale, assuming of course that any of you still are- and bring this story to its close. Of course, if any of you wish to exit from this story now, I would suggest you do so, because the conclusion is going to be worse than you could imagine.

“Beverley, Elliot,” Olaf said, after they had made it pretty high up into the mountains. “Press the red button, and speak to me.”

Violet grabbed the walkie talkie they’d been handed before they’d left the carnival, and pressed the aforementioned button.

“We’re here,” she said.

“Look out the window,” Olaf replied.

“Which… which one?” she asked, she and Klaus awkwardly getting back to their feet.

“The one looking out at us, obviously,” came the reply. “I think you should see just how reliable your friends are.”

They made their way over to the window and looked out- and immediately wished they hadn’t. Hugo, Colette and Kevin had opened the trunk, and Kevin was sawing away at the rope attaching them to the car. His gaze was fixed on the rope, and neither of the others were looking at the caravan either.

“What are you doing?!” Violet screamed.

At that, Kevin’s head snapped up. He mouthed something that looked like I’m sorry, the knife slipping from his hands and landing on the ground below. It was too late, though- the rope was already frayed, and after a brief moment, it snapped.

“No!” Klaus screamed.

“Goodbye, Baudelaires!” Esmé called.

She had leaned her head out the car window, and waved at them as the car kept on driving, leaving the caravan behind. And then, just when things couldn't get any worse, the caravan started to roll backwards down the hill, rapidly gaining speed as it went.

“Sunny!” Klaus screamed, no longer caring about secret identities or disguises or anything. “Sunny!”

“Sunny!” Violet screamed too, but it was no good.

They were already rolling away too fast, the car long out of sight. They were falling down, down into the belly of the beast, and there was nothing either of them could do to stop it.