I slept for a solid ten hours; and when I finally woke up, I felt as though I'd received a brutal beating sometime in the night.
I guess I sort of had.
I groaned in aching agony, all my muscles strained and bruised and sore, every part of me a miserable mess.
There was a startled little noise in the room, and I sat bot upright with a gasp, suddenly realizing that I'd been woken by the sound of someone moving around.
There was a guilty looking maid standing there, cleaning out the sooty fireplace.
"I'm sorry, madam," she apologized with a deep curtsy, her head bowed low. "I didn't mean to wake you. I'll come back later."
"No, no; it's fine," I assured her quickly. I swung my legs over the bed, wincing with the effort and re-thinking my initial plan to stand up. I wasn't sure they'd hold my weight. "How long have I been asleep? Are my friends awake up? Did the witch come?"
"I don't know anything about any witch," the maid replied uncertainly, "but I know that two of your companions are already up and breaking their fast in the dining hall."
"And no one came to wake me?" I complained, my irritation driving me to jump to my feet.
The maid cowered. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I was told to let you sleep in—"
I waved her words away. "It's not your fault, I'm just being angry near you, not at you. Can you show me the way to the dining hall?"
"Wouldn't you like a change of clothes first? And perhaps a comb for your hair?" she asked timidly.
I glanced down, and remembered I was still in my dress from the fairy godmother. It was a bit dirt-stained now, and very wrinkled. I was pretty sure a few of the darker smears across the sleeves and the front were blood, mine and/or Erik's. I couldn't help but sigh. And it was such a nice dress.
Then my hands went to my hair, and I could feel that my untamable curls had long since begun the process of escaping from the up-do the fairy had given me. It seemed to be well on its way to transforming into some kind of bouffant.
"I'll deal with it later. This is more important."
"As you wish, my lady."
I was about to tell her she didn't have to called me "my lady", but then I remembered that technically, I was a Lady now that I'd been officially knighted by an actual real-life prince.
The memory left me grinning a little stupidly. Sometimes, good deeds do go unpunished.
The maid lead me to the dining hall, where I found Erik and Alfred sitting alone at an enormous table, fifty chairs on each side and a throne at the head, eating breakfast.
"Why didn't you guys wake me?" I demanded sharply the moment I spotted them.
They both started guiltily at the sound of my voice and looked over.
"Master Erikson thought we ought to let you sleep, since last night was so harrowing," Alfred explained.
"You didn't miss anything," Erik added through a mouthful of sausage. "If anything interesting happened, I'd have sent someone to get you at once."
"What about the witch?" I pressed. "Hasn't she arrived yet?"
"A few hours ago. She's off making some potion or something right now."
"Does she think she can fix him?" I asked eagerly.
Erik shrugged. "She thinks it might be possible. Charming told me that she said she thinks the spell might wear off on its own eventually—those kinds of curses usually do, apparently—but I insisted that we needed him fixed as soon as possible."
I breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God. I'd never have forgiven myself if he got all messed up permanently after I let him come along in the first place."
Erik's lips turned down into his customary frown. "What about me then?" he asked, sounding a touch wounded. "I'm the one who had my head cracked open like an egg after all; where's the concern about how I'm doing?"
"Well, you obviously survived the night, so it can't have been that bad an injury after all," I pointed out, but I dutifully went up behind him to inspect the wound on the back of his head.
I was right the night before, it was not a deep gash, though it was fairly long. It looked as though it's already been cleaned and taken care of.
"Let me see your cheek," I said, coming around to take the seat beside him, between him and Alfred. Erik turned his head dutifully, and I saw he's been all stitched up. "It doesn't look so bad," I told him, even though the thick, black stitches are vaguely Frankenstein-esque, and the effect made him look like some kind of comic-book villain.
"It's a damn ugly sight, I'm well aware of that," he replied dryly.
"It doesn't seem infected or anything though."
"Thank the lord for small favors." He cut another piece of sausage and stuffed it into his mouth, wincing a little as the motion strains the stitches on his cheek.
"I'm so—"
"Don't start apologizing again. I'm a grown man, I made my own choices, and I'm prepared to deal with the consequences. You had nothing to do with this."
"Well, I fell through your roof, which is what led to you ending up here at all."
"And trust me, next time, I'm making it a brick one." He held his plate over the empty one that was set in front of the seat I'd taken, and scraped half of his breakfast onto my plate.
"You don't have to do that," I hastily protested, but it was already done.
"I've been here for a while, I'm fine." He pushed his chair back and stood up. "I'm going to go find Charming and see how the witch's potion is coming along. Take your time here, I'll find you in a bit."
And then he left the dining hall, without a backward glance. I watched him go, and realized that he was wearing new clothes. They're similar to the hunting outfits Samantha and her women wore as their huntsman disguises, in a cut and style that's clearly very fine. It was a far cry from the rough spun, undyed clothing I first met him in, and he wears them well. He could almost pass for a noble himself, even with the nasty cut and the one slightly blackened eye.
Erik disappeared through the door at the end of the hall, and I finally turned back to the food on my plate. It looked and smelled delicious, and I didn't even have a real dinner. Or lunch. Or breakfast. Or any substantial meal at all for the last couple of days. I snagged a passing servant and informed him that I'll be needing about six more helpings, and then I dig in. I figured maybe I just take a leaf out of a bear's book, and eat so much that I put on a nice layer of fat that'll keep me nourished through the lean days and weeks that I am sure still lie ahead.
That's what I miss more than even soft beds and real toilets, I think. Consistent, tasty meals that actually leave you feeling full.
"So," I said to Alfred with a mouthful of sausage, in unintentional mimicry of Erik. "How'd your talk with the king go?"
Alfred's eyes lit up.
"It went excellently, if I do say so myself! He was quite receptive to my idea of funding a Big Bad Wolf Rehabilitation Center, where wayward wolves could learn methods to curb their carnivorous compulsions. He has also agreed to take a look at the laws surrounding talking animals, and to consider introducing civil protections for any sentient non-humans. It will take quite a big of planning and negotiating, but I have received a better response than I had ever hoped to expect. I have you to thank for that, Miss Rikki." The wolf's eyes shined a little. Can wolves cry? "If I hadn't had the good fortune to come across you and your friends, I doubt I would have ever found my way before the king."
"Oh no," I protested, blushing. "You're too determined, Alfred. I'm sure you would have found a way sooner or later."
"And you will have to thank Master Erik for me as well—perhaps after we have parted ways, I think," Alfred added, casting a glance at the door Erik left through.
"Erik?" I repeated, confused. "Why?"
"I believe he may have put in a good word for me when he was speaking with Prince Charming and the King this morning. They both were willing to listen to what I had to say, but still seemed somewhat wary of me. But after Master Erik held audience with them, I couldn't help but notice that they both were far more at ease in my company."
I raised my eyebrows at this thought. I wondered if Erik had assured them of Alfred's good nature. The wolf certainly had proved himself a helpful ally, though we'd only spent a handful of days in his company. If Alfred could convince Erik that wolves were more than just "big" and "bad", maybe he really could make a difference for the public opinion of his brethren.
"So you're going to stay here and work on that then?" I asked him. "I'll miss your company, it's been nice having you around."
"I hope for my conversation as much as for my intimidation factor," he replied with a grin that showed all of his enormous teeth.
I laughed. "I admit a part of me will be sorry to see you go because I'm sure having an actual wolf on our side would give us a significant advantage on the rest of our quests," I admited. "But I will miss your conversation, yes. Though I'm sure your wardrobe will be thankful that we've parted ways. I see you got your pants fixed."
Alfred looked down as his crimson pants. "Yes, the royal seamstress did a rather good job of it, too. And she says she can make me a matching jacket as well."
Alfred and I continued to chat while I ate, and I enjoyed the peace of the moment as much as I could. I knew that all too soon, I'll have to set out for the next quest in my misadventure, and it'll be back on the road, sleeping outside and peeing behind trees and probably risking my life in new, horrible ways.
Erik returned about twenty minutes later, right before I decide to go track him down myself.
"Good, you're still here," he said, striding into the dining room.
"Of course I am, you told me to wait here, didn't you?" I replied, pretending like I hadn't just been about to go wandering off on my own.
"The witch thinks the potion is finished, she's ready to try it on Jack. I asked her to wait until I fetched you, since if it doesn't work, we'll have to figure out what to do with him."
I jumped up out of my chair so quickly that I knocked it over. "Okay, let's go! What are you just standing around for?" I demanded while I stumbled over the chair legs in my haste to right it.Erik just rolled his eyes and waited for me to fix the chair and hurry to his side, Alfred right behind me.
Erik led the way deeper into the castle, until we came to the kitchen. It's a larger and more luxurious place than the cramped castle kitchen at Lorcastle had been, but it was empty of cooks and scullery maids at the moment. Prince Charming was there, and so was Jack, sitting in a chair, his eyes glazed over and his mouth slightly agape, a trickle of drool running down his chin. The place looks like it's exploded with witchy ingredients, every surface covered in fresh herbs, bits of dead animals, and bowls half full of unsettling liquids.
There was an enormous cauldron hanging over the huge fireplace on the far wall, probably usually used for making large quantities of soup; but devoted right now to something that bubbled and hissed, belching green-tinged steam as it boiled over the fire. The mixture was being inspected by a woman who I assumed must be the witch, because there wasn't anyone else in the room that could have been she.
She didn't look particularly witchy—no pointed black hat, no warty nose, no black cat in sight. She must have been around her early fifties, her hair streaked with grey, but her face largely free of lines. She wore a simple dress shielded from the splattering potion by an apron, and she had covered her hair with a kerchief as well, though a few stray hairs had gotten loose and were curling in the steam rising from the cauldron.
She looked up when Erik, Alfred, and I entered the room.
"All right, are you finally all here then?" she demanded, her tone clipped. "I've been at this all night, I'm exhausted and would like to go home."
"We thank you greatly for your help and your patience," Charming assured her, "and you'll be rewarded for your help. I am sure you will be free to head home very soon."
The witch snorted. "Dragging me out of bed in the middle of night, having a palace guard haul me halfway across the kingdom, expecting me to stay up all night concocting a potion to get some fool adventurer out of a mess he went and got himself in in the first place..." she muttered under her breath, but still loudly enough for everyone to hear.
"Actually," I piped up, a touch timidly—she is a witch, after all, it pays to watch your manners— "I'm the one who got him into this mess. He's helping me out on my quest, so it's my fault he's in this state."
"It's De Leon's fault, not yours," Erik growled. "She's the one who was flinging curses. And besides, he knew the risks when he decided to join us. We all do."
The witch narrowed her eyes at me. "You were on a quest to rescue a princess?"
I bristled, a little offended by her skeptical tone. "Yes, I was. Why shouldn't I be?"
"Usually it's his type who get end up rescuing the silly girls that get themselves into trouble," replied the witch, jerking her head towards Charming.
"That's not fair," I protested. "It's usually someone else getting these girls into these ridiculous situations. It's not like they go looking for trouble."
The witch grunted. "And what are you getting out of this quest anyway? Clearly he's the one who gets to marry the girl and live happily ever after." Another head jerk at Charming.
"Hey," he said, frowning. "I didn't just swoop in to steal the spoils. I helped rescue Eleanor. They couldn't have done it without me, she said as much." He pointed at me.
"Eh," I shrugged noncommittally. "I'm not doing it for riches and rewards," I told the witch. "I'm doing it because... because I have to. Because I was given this quest, and if I don't do it, no one else will." I leave out the fact that I was the one who caused everything to go wrong in the first place, and if it weren't for me, none of these princesses would need rescuing at all—at least, they would have been rescued just fine the way they were originally supposed to be.
The witch just shook her head. "Fool girl. Well, you got off lucky this time if his curse is the worst that happened. Whoever cast this spell didn't know how to properly use the wand they had, and the effects of the curse are fairly weak. If they were any stronger, I wouldn't have been able to help at all. This level of magic is almost outside of my abilities. Where on earth did that woman get a wand so powerful?" She stared hard at me with a suspicious eye.
I shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "Uh—I don't, ahem; I don't know. I'm just here to rescue the girl, not ask questions." I didn't want to mention that it was Rumpelstiltskin's wand, and that I'd been the one to kill him. I was beginning to suspect that he was an influential figure around these parts, if his death was able to impact so many other stories in a butterfly effect the way it had.
"Well," the witch continued doubtfully, clearly not quite convinced by weak lie, "I still can't promise that this potion will work. But even if it doesn't, I don't think the effects will be permanent, it's too weak for that. Something could probably break him out of the curse eventually—though there's no telling how long it might take. Maybe a day; maybe ten years. It could be broken by a bump on the head, or by true love's kiss. These things are highly variable, and the stronger the spell, the stronger the counter-action needs to be to break it. For now, all we can do is try the potion, and hope for the best."
I nodded, my mouth suddenly going dry. How would I explain it to his mother if I have to bring him back home in this state? I've never even met the woman, and I'll have to tell her I broke her son and that there's not way of knowing when, or it, he'll ever get better.
The witch ordered—doesn't ask, straight up ordered—Charming to fetch her a bowl. To his credit, he does without quibbling, hurrying over to a shelf to take down a small wooden bowl and handing it to the witch.
She ladled a steaming spoonful of the potion from the cauldron into the bowl, filling it almost to the brim. It was a sickly greenish color, and it makes peas porridge nine-days-old look like fine cuisine in comparison.
"All right, someone is going to have to help me get it down his throat," she said, carefully shuffling over to Jack to avoid spilling any of the potion.
"I shall," Alfred offered before I could. "I've grown quite fond of the lad, I'd like to be of at least some help." The wolf went over to Jack and put a paw on his forehead, gently tipping his head back. Jack didn't react, he just kept staring straight ahead, his mouth slightly open. Alfred took Jack's chin and opened his mouth a little wider. The witch put the rim of the bowl right up to his lips and tipped the potion in, allowing just a trickle to run down his throat.
"Please swallow, Master Jack," Alfred instructed him.
"Okay," Jack replied vaguely, letting green potion spill out of his mouth without seeming to notice.
"Don't answer, just do it," snapped the witch.
I reached out and grabbed Erik by the elbow, my eyes fixed on Jack, searching his face for any flicker of real life as the witch and Alfred continue to feed him the witch's brew.
I saw Erik look over at me in the periphery of my vision. After a moment, he gave my hand on his arm an awkward pat. "It'll work," he assured me. I knew he was just saying that to make me feel better, but he says it with such conviction, I could almost let myself believe that he's right.
Soon, the witch had poured the contents of the entire bowl down Jack's throat. She and Alfred both stepped back to inspect him.
He licked his lips, his eyes slightly crossed.
Nothing happened.
"Does... does he need more?" I asked, breaking the expectant silence first.
"I don't know," the witch replied, pursing her lips. "I'm hesitant to give him any more; I don't know how much it would take to kill him."
"What?"
"It's not very poisonous," she snapped back. "Just a little poisonous. Unless you take too much. And I'm sure you'd rather not risk that, would you?"
"Oh god," I groaned.
"Rikki," Erik started to say, softly; but then there was a sudden cough and a splutter from Jack. He spit up a mouthful of green potion all over his shirt, and his expression gradually began to change from an expressionless mask, to one of growing repulsion.
"Eugh," he retched. "Blech—oh my god, what's that taste? What's in my mouth?"
"Jack!" I cried, and I let go of Erik to rush to Jack's side. "Jack, are you okay? Are you back to normal? Do you have any desire to marry Lady De Leon's daughters?"
Jack was still gagging, his tongue stained green by the potion. He looked at me through watery eyes, which were still rather glazed with confusion, but were no longer empty of personality.
"What? De Leon's daughters? No, why would I... wait, where are we? What happened? The last thing I remember, we were in the graveyard, and De Leon showed up."
"You went and got yourself hit by one of her curses," Erik answered dryly. I turned to look at him, and catch him watching me with an expression I don't quite understand. The moment I caught his eyes, he abruptly looked away, at Jack, and crossed his arms over his chest. "The only personality you were left with was one that desired nothing more than to wed either of De Leon's daughters."
"You saved me from the same fate," Charming added. "You pushed me out of the path of the spell and took the brunt of it yourself. If it weren't for your noble sacrifice my dear Cinderella—Er, Eleanor would never have been rescued from her terrible fate."
"Hey, I'm sure I would have figured something out," I protested.
"You don't remember it I'm sure, but I knighted you and your companions for your services to the crown," Charming finished.
Jack, who was in the middle of wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, looked up, amazed. "Knighted? Really? So I'm Sir Spriggans now?"
"And I was worried that we might never be able to get you back, but Charming said he knew of a witch who lives in the kingdom who might be able to help," I continued, gesturing to the witch still standing there, who gave a little grunt of acknowledgment. "And she spent all night whipping up a potion to break the curse!"
"That would be the source of the foul taste," she said in a clipped tone. "It's slightly poisonous."
Jack blanched. "What?!"
"Slightly! I said slightly. You won't be feeling too good in about fifteen minutes, but the effects will pass. Probably."
"Trust me, it's better than how you were before," Erik added. "You've still got some drool on your chin, by the way."
We got Jack something to eat and drink, though the witch declared that there's little point, since it will probably all just end up coming back up in the next half hour or so. Alfred filled him in on everything that happened in the graveyard after he was cursed, while Charming went to fetch the court physician for when the potion's deleterious effects kick in. The witch began collecting her supplies and packing them away in a large bag she brought with her, and I decided it's high time I change out of my stained and dirty ball gown. I excused myself, letting Erik, Jack, and Alfred know I'll be back soon, and left the kitchen.
I got about halfway down the hall when a voice from behind called out for me to wait.
I turned, and saw the witch coming into the hall, closing the door to the kitchen quietly behind her. She glanced around, as if to make sure we're really alone in the hallway, and then she walked up to me.
"This quest of yours," she said, narrowing her eyes at me. "You say it was given to you. By who, exactly?"
"Uh, by—by... by," I stammered. Oh god, I can never think of lies on the spot. My mind has suddenly gone completely and utterly blank. "By, um, by... by... a... a..."
Nope. Nothing. I just stood there, gaping at her like a particularly stupid fish.
"Let me see your hand," she commanded, holding her own out expectantly.
"Why?" I asked, eyeing her warily.
She didn't bother explaining herself, she just snatched my hand with lightning swiftness and held it, palm up, close to her face.
"What are you—" I said, trying to pull my hand out of her iron grip.
"Mm hm," she muttered, nodding sagely to herself. "Yes, I see."
My squirming increased. "What? What do you see?"
"This line, right here," she said, tracing a crease down the length of my palm with a long nail. It tickled, and a shudder ran down my spine. "The path of your life has been interrupted by an unexpected journey. That would be the journey you are currently on, I'd wager; unless your life is particularly eventful. And this line here," she points to another part of my hand, "indicates times of great emotional turmoil. You will face many very difficult challenges. If you have strength, you may get through them; but see how the end of the line fades here?" She indicated the outer edge of my palm. "That means your fate is uncertain. The path you follow is not set in stone, and the outcome of your adventure—for good or for ill—is not yet determined. And your headline crosses it, right at the end here. You will have to have faith in yourself, or you will never succeed. Doubt at a critical moment could spell your undoing."
I yanked my hand out of her grasp.
"You could say all that about anyone. Any person could think that applied to their lives."
"Your friend was touched by very dark magic," she continued, unphased, tilting her head to the side as she looked inquisitively at me. "Dark magic not many possess. I myself am little more than a hedge witch; I don't know of anyone with that kind of power, that is an entirely different class than me. If your journey isn't yet over—and the reading from your palm indicates you still have far to go—then you are bound to face challenges even greater than you have so far."
I blanched. We barely got through the first two quests; if those were the easy levels, how the hell were we going to survive what came next?
"It... it'll be fine," I replied, my voice a touch more high pitched than it usually was. "We've got this far, we can handle the rest."
"You have no magic of your own?" the witch asked.
"Er... no," I admitted. "Well, we have an enchanted bow, and one magic bean left. We did get a little help from a fairy for this quest, but she's, uh, blacklisted us."
The witch snorted. "That's fairies for you. Don't trust them, there are as many wicked fairies as there are good witches—and the numbers of both would probably surprise you. Well, I can't see how you will get through the remainder of your journey without aid."
I thought I knew exactly what kind of "aid" she meant: the magical kind. An enchanted tinder box; a magic sack; a fat toad with box of riches.
"There is, perhaps, a way to get yourself a little help," the witch suggested, raising one eyebrow at me.
I gave her a sidelong look. "How?" I asked tentatively. It wasn't wise to trust a witch in a fairy tale, but that didn't mean I couldn't hear her out, right?
"You could go find Mother Holle."
"Mother..." The name rang a bell. It was one of the stories in the book, and I cast my mind back, trying to remember the details. "She's a... she's a witch?"
"You know of her?" asked the witch, looking surprised.
"Not exactly."
"She's a witch. And a powerful one. A good witch, as long as you're good to her in kind. With Mother Holle, you reap what you sow."
"And she would help us?" I pressed.
The witch shrugged. "She may. Or she may not. She doesn't give something for nothing; but she's the only person I can think of off hand who might be able to give you an edge on your next quest. An enchanted bow and a magic bean are good—but you'll need more, if what I saw in your palm is true. Go to Mother Holle, and see if she will help you."
"How do we find her?" I asked.
"There's a farm north-east of here, right on the border of the Dark Forest. There is a well behind the house, and if you jump in, you'll find yourself in the territory of Mother Holle."
I opened my mouth to ask her exactly how that's supposed to work, but then I figure it's probably better not to question it too much.
"Um, okay; okay, thank you. We'll try it," I told her. What have we got to lose anyway? "Thank you for the help. Er, actually, I'm sorry if this comes across as rude, but—why are you helping us? I mean, you were just brought here to break the curse on Jack, you didn't have to tell me any of this."
The witch just stared at me for a long moment; so long that I begin to think that she's not going to answer at all. Then she finally said, "As a witch, I meet a lot of different people. Most of them want something. To marry a king's daughter; to get their hands on an outrageous amount of money without doing any actual work; to cheat and trick and swindle their way into fame and fortune by dint of only their cleverness or their willingness to screw over somebody else. Some of the people I meet are very good; selfless and kind, willing to sacrifice themselves for the sake of others. But I haven't ever met somebody who has been able to convince more than one other person—usually a silly, besotted lover—to go on a quest with them. And yet you have two young men and a wolf in there," she jerked a thumb behind her towards the kitchen door, "who are apparently willing to get themselves cursed in pursuing a quest they gain nothing from. That, combined with the fact that you seem to have faced dark and terrible magic last night, makes me think that perhaps the quest you're on, whatever it may be, is one that should be successfully completed. I get the sense that a lot of people will be a lot of trouble if you fail, and I don't want one of those unlucky people to be me."
Now it was my turn to fall quiet, my mind racing.
"Do you know anything about an ancient evil in the Grimm Woods?" I asked suddenly.
The witch gave me a hard look. "The Grimm Woods? Why do you want to know about the Grimm Woods?"
"I... I think my quest may be leading me there."
The witch shook her head. "Then I am very glad that I am not you. And I suspect very much that you will indeed be in great need of Mother Holle's help. An ancient evil?" She has to think about it, which doesn't give me much hope.
I was hoping for something more like 'Oh yeah, I know exactly what you're talking about!' and then detailed instructions of how to defeat whatever this evil is.
"A long time ago, the five kingdoms on the other side of the Dark Forest were ravaged by war," she begins. "I am afraid I don't know much about it, it was centuries ago, and the Dark Forest has never been easy to cross, so little news ever came from the other side. But I know that there was a sorceress who laid waste to the five kingdoms of Weissland, the kingdom that borders the other side of the forest; Alberny on the eastern coast; Cywith to the north; and another kingdom whose name has been lost to time. The sorceress's own kingdom was in the land that would eventually become the Grimm Woods, which is a place with such a dark reputation that it makes our own Dark Forest seem quaint in comparison. I can't tell you much more. She was a terrible and powerful woman who brought four other powerful kingdoms to their knees. She must have been defeated at some point, but I could not tell you how, or by whom. I don't know if she could possibly be the ancient evil of which you speak—but she would be the only evil I know of in the Grimm Woods."
"Oh," I said. "Well that just sounds fucking great. I can't wait."
It was while I was writing this chapter that I realized I made a mistake.
JACK AND THE BEANSTALK ISN'T ONE OF GRIMM'S FAIRY TALES.
It's such a classic that is often gets lumped into that whole hazy category of universally known fairy tales, but it's actually an English one, and I just completely and utterly forgot until this chapter.
So... whoops.
The original version of this story was a bit more loosely goosy. I mentioned characters from nursery rhymes and from the Red, Blue, and Green Fairy books by Hans Christian Anderson, but when I rewrote it, I wanted to be more strict and only draw from the stories in the two volumes of Kinder- Und Hausmarchen (sorry for the lack of umlauts, too lazy to put one in right now).
But I forgot that Jack isn't in there. His name should have tipped me off, but he's such an integral part of the story, I didn't even think of it.
Too late now though, haha!