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The Big Score.
Once again, his thoughts went back to the Dragon’s Eye. It was Maleficent’s scepter, and the quest for its recovery was Mal’s mission. It wasn’t his quest, and it wasn’t his problem.
But what if it was?
What if it should be?
Mal had asked him to help, and he had blown her off. But what if he told her that he would help her? And what if, when they did find it, he stole it right from under her nose? He would be stealing a fortune and her identity as Maleficent’s heir all in one swoop, just like Dr. Facilier.
And what if, by chance, it still worked?
His father would finally have his Big Score. Jay would have his Evil Scheme. Between the two of them, they’d find a way off the Isle of Lost, Leftover, and Forgotten.
They didn’t belong there anymore, did they?
Jay smiled. He would enrich himself, all right. All the way to becoming the Master of Darkness.
By lunchtime, the rest of the school was still talking about last night’s epic howler at Hell Hall, but Mal had no interest. The party was the past; she’d moved on.
She had bigger things to worry about now. All she could think about was how her mother wanted the Dragon’s Eye back. And how Maleficent wouldn’t see her as anything other than her father’s daughter—in other words, a pathetic, soft human—until Mal could prove her wrong.
Mal kept reliving last night’s conversation over and over, so that she missed her first few classes and sleepwalked through the rest. She arrived for her one-on-one after-school seminar with Lady Tremaine still feeling anxious and out of sorts.
“Hi, Professor Tremaine, you wanted to see me about my year-long evil scheme?” she asked, knocking on the open door to the faculty tombs.
Lady Tremaine looked up from her desk with a thin smile. “Yes, come in and shut the door, please.” A full thermos of curdled wine sat on the desk in front of her, which didn’t bode well. Lady Tremaine only drank sour wine when she was in a sour mood.
Mal knew she was in trouble, but she did as told and sat across from her teacher. “So what’s up?
Lady Tremaine snorted. “‘What’s up’ is this…sad excuse for a year-long evil scheme. A grudge against one girl? Party tricks? Pranks? This is beneath you, Mal. I expected more from you. You’re my best student.” She reached for her wine and sipped it, making an appropriately disgusted face.
You expected more? You and everyone else on this island, Mal thought sullenly. Get in line.
“What’s wrong with my evil scheme?” she asked.
“It’s just not evil enough,” sniffed Lady Tremaine.
Mal sighed.
Lady Tremaine glared. “I need you to really put your da
rk heart and foul soul into it. Come up with a truly wicked scheme. One that will bring you to the depths of depravity and heights of wicked greatness of which I know you’re capable.”
Mal kicked the desk and frowned. She’d thought her evil scheme was pretty wicked. “Like what? And how do you know what wicked greatness I’m capable of, anyway?”
“You are Mal, daughter of Maleficent! Who doesn’t know that?” Lady Tremaine shook her head.
You’d be surprised, Mal thought.
Lady Tremaine continued to sip her wine. “I’m sure you’ll come up with something, dear. You are your mother’s daughter, after all. I expect something truly horrid and legendary for your evil scheme. Something that will go down in history,” Lady Tremaine said, returning Mal’s paper to her. “I’ll give you a minute to brainstorm, if that helps.”
Mal looked down at the proposal she’d originally written. At first, she bristled at the criticism. She didn’t want to hear it.
What was wrong with this? It was evil, pure evil. And it was bad, wasn’t it? Taking down a princess—that wasn’t exactly a nice thing to do. She was going to make Evie pay, wasn’t she?
And a vendetta, that was a time-honored evil scheme, wasn’t it?
Classic villainy? What was wrong with that?
