The Forbidden Lock

Dedication
To my family—past, present, and future.
Don’t let go.


Epigraph
You say I am a riddle—it may be
For all of us are riddles unexplained.
—Alfred Nobel, A Riddle


Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Epigraph
1. The Time Tapestries
2. New Compass Tricks
3. The Return of the Vermillion
4. Bad Day
5. Time Chase
6. Stowaways
7. New-Old Family and New New York
8. Home Again
9. The Initials
10. Vincent’s Plans
11. An Eye for an Eye
12. A Few Answers
13. Changing Tides
14. Unraveling
15. Nightmare Come True
16. Mom-Not-Mom
17. Quejing
18. The Kangxi Emperor
19. Jìnzhĭ Suŏ
20. The Summer Triangle
21. Asleep
22. Forgetting
23. The Emperor’s Will
24. Falling Apart
25. Alfred Nobel
26. Self-Destruct
27. Don’t Let Go
28. Hinges
29. Gathering the Troops
30. The Undoing of Santiago
31. The Final Glitch
32. Baby Beginnings
Epilogue: Peanut Butter and Bubble Gum
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Books by Liesl Shurtliff
Copyright
About the Publisher


1The Time Tapestries
A sleek luxury cruise ship drifted peacefully on a calm Caribbean Sea, somewhere along the coast of Colombia. The air was balmy, just a slight breeze. The ink-black sky was sprinkled with stars. If you were to ask any of the many passengers on board the ship, they would likely say there was magic in the air that night, and they would be absolutely right. There was a certain magic in the air, inside the very ship on which they were currently sailing, and especially residing within the captain of the ship, Captain Vincent of the Vermillion.
Captain Vincent stood in his cabin preparing for the evening. He was dressed in his finest black waistcoat, black leather pants, and his favored pair of red Converse. He stood admiring himself in his mirror.
A white rat crawled out of the captain’s waistcoat pocket and climbed upon his shoulder. He stared into the mirror with glowing red eyes. The rat’s name was Santiago, and he knew the captain better than anyone. He knew his deepest, darkest secrets. He knew his greatest desires. He knew precisely how much sugar and cream he took in his tea. (Two lumps and just a drop.)
In short, Santiago was not your typical rat, except perhaps for the fact that he hated cats, detested birds, and was generally always in a foul mood, but otherwise he was quite unusual.
“How do I look, Santiago?” the captain asked, straightening his waistcoat and tightening his cuff links.
Clean, Santiago replied. To anyone else it would have just sounded like a few squeaks, but the captain understood the rat’s meaning perfectly.
“Clean? Is that all?”
Santiago twitched his whiskers and tail. Fine. Pretty, he squeaked.
The captain laughed. “Yes, I am rather pretty, I suppose.”
The captain’s laughter stung Santiago’s pride. Humans had so many words and expressions, and it was such a nuisance to keep them all in order. He wondered why anyone cared what they looked like at all. What did it matter? They all had eyes and noses and mouths, but no whiskers or tails and so were senseless and clumsy. Perhaps the captain should care more about that. He told the captain as much.
“You are perfectly right, Santiago,” the captain said, his eyes glimmering with mirth. “Perhaps I should grow myself some whiskers and a tail.”
Santiago squeaked his indifference.
“Oh, lighten up, Santiago!” said the captain. “Remember this is a celebration of our triumph.”
Triumph.
Yes. They had won, just like the time Santiago fought two other rats for a half-empty bag of pork rinds. That had been a triumph. The pork rinds were delicious.
But Santiago knew the captain’s most recent triumph had nothing to do with pork rinds. He was talking about the things that had transpired on that beach, just days ago. Or was it weeks? Years? It all seemed to blur, a tangle of memories. They’d been with those Hudsons, whom Santiago detested, though he couldn’t say exactly why. Maybe he didn’t care for children in general, or humans in general (except the captain).
There had been words. Words, words, words. Humans were so full of words! But through the words Santiago understood one thing. The captain had found what he’d been looking for. Santiago remembered the thrill that raced through him as he took a small black stone and placed it in the center of his compass.
Triumph.
It felt like winning a full bag of pork rinds. Maybe two.
And then—click—as soon as the stone was inside the compass, the world stopped. Santiago stopped. Stopped breathing. Stopped moving. Stopped being. He felt nothing. Thought nothing. Became nothing.
And then—click—Santiago came out of the nothing, and everything was different. He wasn’t certain how. Everything looked the same. The captain looked the same. He, Santiago, looked the same. He could see his reflection in the mirror—white fur, red eyes, magnificent tail and whiskers. But he felt different. He felt . . . hungry.
Hungry, except nothing seemed to satisfy him. What was he was hungry for? Pork rinds? Peanut butter? Caviar? He ate all those things. He ate until his stomach could hold no more. But the hunger only grew.
More, more, more.
Santiago sensed the same hunger in the captain, too, like a bottomless pit, only the captain didn’t seem to mind it. He wasn’t constantly trying to feed himself. Maybe it had something to do with that glowing stone, the one he’d put inside the compass. He wasn’t wearing the compass anymore, at least not like he used to, but Santiago could see at the captain’s chest the faint blue glow of that stone. Somehow it had become a part of him, seemed to be feeding him.
A knock came at the door.
“Come in,” the captain said.
Two men entered—Brocco and Wiley. They were part of the captain’s crew, though they hadn’t been with the captain as long as Santiago, and they weren’t nearly as valued or as trusted. They didn’t understand the captain like Santiago did. They certainly didn’t know how he took his tea.
Brocco was dressed in a red-and-gold-floral tuxedo, his clumps of hair tied up with a gold ribbon. Wiley stood slightly behind Brocco wearing his usual brown suit, though he’d added a little flair by sticking a purple feather in his fedora. He was smoking his pipe, as he always did. They both bowed to the captain