The Dark Passenger (Book 1)

by Joshua Thomas

  “Can’t you let him get a bite of food before you start in on him, Sam?” asked Walt.

  “No,” Sam replied drolly.

  “But Sam, we know Edwin didn’t have anything to do with the lock,” Walt said.

  Sam raised an eyebrow. “Do we? I don’t believe for one minute that the lock, Edwin passing out on the floor with his clothes in a bundle, and his arm are a coincidence. Can you explain any of it?” Sam asked, looking from Walt to Edwin. It sounded like a warning.

  “Why they let Edwin stay in Hawthorne is anyone’s guess,” Martha said. “They should have let his blood flow under the hallow tree the morning they found him.”

  “I was there yesterday morning when the healer came to see your arm,” Walt said, offering him a moment of relief. “He took a look at your arm and said he had never seen anything like it, but it reminded him of frostbite. He said it might be what was making you sick and he would amputate it if you weren’t better in the next few days. He came back again last night and had a big bag with him. I think the only reason he didn’t cut it off on the spot was because he said your fever was going down.”

  “My uncle had frostbite once,” Pech said from across the table, a block of cheese in his fat hand. “Got caught out in a blizzard and lost three toes and a finger.”

  Edwin sipped from his bowl of stew and considered his words carefully. “Well, I’m glad they didn’t cut off my arm,” he said while he chewed. “It seems to be working fine now, though it’s not much to look at.” He was speaking slowly, doing his best not to stutter. After swallowing, he pulled off his glove for everyone to see. Making a concerted effort, he moved his fingers.

  His eyes wide with fear, Drew asked, “What happened to it?”

  Edwin put his glove back on, and said, “I have no idea. Walt said everyone thought it was something called the imp, but I didn’t see anything.”

  “And the door?” Sam asked.

  “I have no idea,” Edwin replied. “Walt said something broke it.”

  “The front door had a big hole in it,” Rash said. “There’s a board covering it now. The Headmistress is probably hoping she can get a new lock at the fair this weekend.”

  “That’s weird…” He let them stare at him, and wondered why no one had asked about the door to Carrion’s garden. After three days, someone should have found the big hole in it by now. “The last thing I remember is coming back from the bathroom. I’ve been reading in there when I can’t sleep. It’s why I had my clothes with me, because they’re warmer.”

  Walt nodded along. “Grandpa has told me stories of weird things like this happening in the old days. Isn’t this great? And there’s always what happened fifteen years ago.”

  Rash gasped, and Martha spat, “You know we’re not supposed to talk about that. It’s bad luck. Do you want to draw the Others back?”

  Walt gave a guilty shrug and took a bite of his food. Edwin hoped he would get a chance later to thank Walt for his help.

  “That’s quite a coincidence, wouldn’t everyone agree?” Martha asked, leaning in from across the table. “Well, we’re just glad you’re up and feeling better again. I guess it will be Headmistress Vanora’s problem figuring out what happened to our door. But like you said, Walt. Weird things happen.”

  After dinner, Headmistress Vanora dismissed the others and called Edwin up to her table. Sam grabbed his arm before leaving, and whispered, “Your lies won’t fool anyone.”

  Edwin watched Sam go before standing up and making his way over to Headmistress Vanora and Lady Nemain. He told them the same story.

  “Oh, you poor dear,” was the first thing Lady Nemain said when he finished.

  But Headmistress Vanora seemed skeptical. “That’s quite the tale, Edwin,” she said, visibly exasperated.

  Lady Nemain took the opportunity to interject. “Edna, will you not leave this poor boy alone? After what he’s been through, and having just woken up, he’s just a weak child. Open your eyes. What Edwin is telling us could be a sign of the Others. The Morriseys were so recently killed, and Edwin may have seen the creature responsible.”

  “You know people are saying there’s something off about Edwin,” Headmistress Vanora said.

  “Nonsense. Edwin is a child of Chardwick. And as you like to point out, Hawthorne is yours, and you have a duty to protect every child in your care. I expect you to do your part to quell these vicious rumors, Edna.”

  Headmistress Vanora puffed out her chest indignantly. “You expect? I am Headmistress of the Orphanage, and you are my guest. I will run it as I see fit.”

  “I may have no official authority here, Headmistress, but I will not endure you berating a sick child.” She said the word headmistress like it was a curse. “Let’s go, Finn. We’re done here.”

  “Finn?” Headmistress Vanora asked, a look of shock on her face. “Nemain, this boy is not your dead son.”

  Lady Nemain’s face fell, but she repeated, “Edwin, go. Headmistress Vanora and I have business to discuss.”

  “Yes, Lady Nemain,” Edwin said, and he turned to go. “I’m sorry for any trouble I’ve caused,” he added just before shutting the door behind him.

  With him gone, the two women began yelling at each other. Edwin heard it all the way back up to his room. He was guilt-ridden and worried, but his concerns drifted away as soon as his head hit his pillow.

  * * *

  Edwin was surprised the next day at Master Carrion’s shop when, standing at a cauldron in Carrion’s attic, he and Sam were joined by the Council. Edwin recognized Lady Nemain, who smiled at him reassuringly, Carrion, and Mistress Schuylar, but the rest of the faces were new to him.

  “So this is him,” said a man with calloused hands and a soot-covered beard.

  Nodding, Carrion said, “This is the boy they say was attacked by the imp.”

  “If that’s true, we must learn why,” the man said. “Boy, my name is Master Danagger. Do you know why the imp would spare you?”

  Taken aback, Edwin said, “Erm, no, I have no idea.”

  “We figured as much,” Mistress Schuylar said, cutting in. “Whatever the reason, it may be the answer we’ve been searching for. Master Carrion here, after a bit of convincing, has been good enough to allow us to observe you until we discover what makes you special.”

  “Ob-observe me?” Edwin asked. “I don’t want to be observed.”

  “It’s for the good of the village,” Mistress Schuylar said. “You want what’s best for Chardwick, don’t you, Edwin?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “That settles it then,” Master Danagger said. “Just do what you normally do. One of us will sit back and watch.”

  Edwin looked to Master Carrion or Sam for help, but when help didn’t come, he turned back to his cauldron.

  The next several days were much the same with a village elder following him constantly. The attention made him nervous, and he tried his best to do everything just right. The day before the fair he was again standing at a cauldron in Master Carrion’s attic, trying not to breathe in the vapors coming off the green liquid. Behind him he heard Master Carrion and Mistress Schuylar shuffling towards him.

  “Edwin—” Mistress Schuylar began.

  “One second, please, Mistress Schuylar,” Edwin replied. Every joint in his body was still, and he was trying to keep up with Sam’s fast-paced potion making.

  Edwin reached into a vial of toad’s feet and pulled out one long brown leg. When the foot hit the liquid, it sank to the bottom, and the concoction went from a noxious green to a gentle pink.

  Master Carrion sounded impressed. “Perfect. That looks just right.”

  Edwin was relieved. “Thanks,” he said.

  “And what do we use Bailey’s Mucus for?”

  “Warts, Master Carrion,” Edwin replied, wiping off his hands. He forced himself to make eye contact with Master Carrion and Mistress Schuylar, and asked, “What do you want to talk to me about?”

  “Outside, please,�
� Carrion said.

  Edwin nodded and followed them, shrugging at Sam as he passed.

  Leaning on his cane, Master Carrion said, “Edwin, Mistress Schuylar is concerned about your potion making skills.”

  “What about them?” Edwin asked, worried he’d done something wrong.

  Master Carrion and Mistress Schuylar exchanged a troubled look, and Mistress Schuylar said, “We’ve seen you train with the Fury. The Medgards told me you’d never picked up a sword before. And now here you are in Carrion’s shop…. I’ve been around a cauldron or two in my time, and you’re concocting potions as well as Sam, who has been here for years—maybe even as well as Master Carrion here. Can you explain any of it, Edwin?”

  Edwin felt relieved as he searched for an answer. “I-I like to read,” he stammered.

  “Read?” Master Carrion asked.

  “Yes, Lady Nemain gave me a book on alchemy.”

  “I remember that. She got the books from me,” Mistress Schuylar said.

  “That woman gave…” Master Carrion’s voice trailed off, and then he said, “I see. It would figure that she would try to be helpful. And you’ve spent the last few weeks reading it?”

  “No, I read it in only a night… a few w-weeks ago… is there something wrong, Master Carrion? Mistress Schuylar?”

  Master Carrion’s face reddened two shades darker than his beard, and Mistress Schuylar tightly gripped her umbrella handle. “And you remembered everything you read?” Mistress Schuylar asked.

  “Yes… Most people don’t?”

  “No, Edwin, no they don’t,” Mistress Schuylar said.

  “I don’t understand. I thought you wanted me to do well,” Edwin said.

  Master Carrion sighed in a way that Edwin found confusing. He didn’t understand why Carrion looked so disappointed. “Of course we want you to do well. Don’t worry about a thing,” Master Carrion said, and he opened the door. “Back inside.”

  While Edwin bottled his Bailey’s Mucus, Sam asked, “You’re drawing Master Carrion and Mistress Schuylar’s attention now? What did you do?”

  “Nothing. They just wanted to talk about my potion making,” Edwin said.

  “What about it?”

  “They think I’m a natural.” Edwin couldn’t help but feel a little proud of that.

  CHAPTER 13: THE WINTER FAIR

  The next morning, Edwin was told that he wasn’t picked to go to the fair that night. “But it has to be tonight,” he told the spirit, although he was hesitant to sneak out again.

  “Yess,” the spirit agreed. “You weaken with every day that passes.”

  Most apprenticeships were cancelled for the fair, so Headmistress Vanora put them to work cleaning Hawthorne. When darkness came, the children chosen to go to the fair went upstairs to get ready, and Edwin found a corner by the stairwell where he could whisper with his spirit. When Edwin heard footsteps approaching, he shut his mouth and Headmistress Vanora appeared.

  “What are you doing, Edwin?” she demanded, her hands on her ample hips.

  “Noth—”

  “You should be upstairs with Ashton. He’s in charge while I’m gone.”

  Edwin nodded and rushed upstairs. The last thing he needed was to get into trouble on the night of the fair.

  As soon as Edwin walked in his room, Walt complained, “I can’t believe Sam gets to go tonight and I don’t. Too bad my aunts couldn’t get us before the fair.” He was on his back hanging over the edge of his bed, and his shaggy blond hair was dangling just above the floor.

  Edwin threw himself on his own bed. “Where’s Ashton?”

  “He said he was going to make sure everyone was getting ready, but I’m sure he only meant Martha. They’re probably telling each other how much they’re going to miss each other and how hard it’ll be to spend five whole minutes apart.”

  “They’re a good pair,” Edwin said absently.

  Walt snorted. “She’s training him to be her next puppy, only Ashton doesn’t see it. She’s worse than he is.”

  “Why do you care? I thought you hated Ashton.”

  “I do, but they’ll both be on the Council in a few years.” Edwin gave him a skeptical look, and Walt continued, “You know they will. Mark my words, the villagers love their rules and Martha and Ashton love enforcing them. When they’re in charge the bodies will pile up and the blood will flow under the hallow tree.”

  That was a troubling thought. “Maybe you’re probably right,” Edwin conceded, and he got up from his bed.

  “What are you doing?” Walt asked, sitting up.

  Edwin walked over to the wardrobe and opened the drawer he hadn’t touched since his first day. “I’m getting the outfit I wore when I came down here from the inn.”

  “What do you need that for?”

  “I can’t just sit here. Headmistress Vanora will never let me go to the fair, and I want to see it this year. Don’t tell Ashton I’m gone, all right?”

  Walt laughed. “Tell Ashton? I thought you knew me better than that. Besides, I’m coming with you.”

  Edwin looked up from his packing. “No, I can’t ask you to do that. I don’t want to get you into trouble,” he said stupidly. He should have anticipated Walt wanting to come, but he had been so focused on the fair and his hand that the thought had never crossed his mind.

  Walt snorted. “Who asked? I think it’ll be fun… definitely better than sitting around here. And besides, my aunts are coming to get me soon anyway. Why not break a few more rules before I go?”

  Edwin knew he needed to be alone; the fair was his best chance to find life, and he couldn’t do that with Walt watching his every move. Seeing Edwin’s hesitation, Walt added, “I can also buy our admissions tickets. My parents’ house is still empty, and I know where they kept some money.”

  Edwin had figured he and his spirit would have to improvise to get into the fair, but buying tickets seemed much simpler. “Fine, you can come,” he said, smiling. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you if we get caught.” Suddenly his arm was on fire. “Ouch!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “My arm… Erm, cramp,” Edwin said, surreptitiously trying to shake his spirit off his arm.

  The noise was picking up in the hall. Walt changed into clothes he must have owned before coming to Hawthorne, but then put his uniform back on over it. He went out to check the hall, giving Edwin the chance to whisper to the spirit: “Stop, that hurts. Don’t worry, I’ll lose him at the fair.” The creature stopped picking at his skin, but he knew it wasn’t happy.

  Ashton didn’t come back after Headmistress Vanora left with the others, and sneaking out was easy with her gone. As Edwin and Walt left their room, they heard Ashton ordering at the boys across the hall to stay in their own room. “Like they’ll listen to Ash with Vanora gone,” Walt scoffed. Downstairs, the front door was still covered with a board and had no lock, and it slid open easily.

  The evening couldn’t have been more perfect for the fair. The sky was clear, the air crisp, and the stars were just bright enough to light their way. The fair grew louder with every step; there was laughing, the sound of metal scraping metal, music, screaming, yelling—recognizable sounds that blended to become a noise with a life all its own—a noise that bounced down the narrow roads and between the houses like it too was having fun. But even with all the noise in the distance, the roads were mostly empty on the way to Walt’s. After turning onto a road that led to one of the arches to the village square, Walt said, “Wait here.”

  Edwin nodded while Walt walked up a staircase that led up to one of the better homes in Chardwick. While he waited, he saw a man and woman pass him walking arm-in-arm. They walked up to a tattooed man, and he moved aside to let them pass. Edwin moved to hide behind the staircase, and his spirit pricked at his face and grumbled, “What are you doing?” Edwin had begun changing into his clothes from the inn, but he knew his spirit was referring to Walt.

  “You heard Walt. What was I supposed to do? Forbid him
from coming with me? Besides, he’s getting us into the fair.” After untying his blanket and pulling out his old clothes, he took off his uniform, and the frigid air bit at his skin. “Maybe I should have worn my clothes under my uniform like Walt.”

  “You mussn’t concern yourself with that boy’s feelingss. You musst heal,” the spirit said.

  “I kn-know,” Edwin spat, putting on his clothes as quickly as he could. They felt cold against his skin.

  “Be careful and get rid of him.”

  As he buried his uniform in the snow, he said, “I will. What should I be looking for at the fair?”

  “Something bigger than a cat,” his spirit said facetiously.

  With his only good hand shaking from cold, Edwin had a hard time wrapping his blanket around his shoulders. Absently, he said, “I’m worried we won’t find anything.”

  “Yess… you’re right…” the spirit said. “We will need another plan if you don’t find anything at the fair.”

  “Let’s just be optimistic for now.”

  “No… That won’t do…. We might only have the one chance tonight. You don’t need me right now. I’ll go look around and will be back ssoon. Don’t get into trouble.”

  “Wait, you can’t leave,” Edwin cried, but it was too late; the spirit was gone. Feeling the spirit’s sudden absence, Edwin cursed himself for letting his mouth run. He hadn’t meant to give the spirit a reason to disappear. When Walt reappeared a minute later, Edwin forced himself to smile, but he felt sick.

  “Yo-you also ch-changed,” Edwin said.

  “Your stutter’s back,” Walt said, and Edwin frowned. Walt continued, “I left my uniform inside. Where’s yours? Want to put it inside?” When Edwin shook his head, Walt pulled a gold coin out of his pocket and flicked one in Edwin’s direction. “Here, catch.”

  “Oh, Walt, this is too much,” Edwin said. He had never held so much money before.

  Walt waved away Edwin’s outstretched hand. “My parents kept these stashed away. I’d say our luck has been pretty bad lately, and you’re probably going to be thrown in the cellar a few weeks for sneaking out. So I say let’s have some fun.”