Hunting November

by Adriana Mather

  “Is that what you think?” Jag says, adeptly slashing his knife at my dad. “One simple command and everyone here will tear you limb from limb.”

  My dad fends off Jag’s blade with his own, and it’s immediately obvious that they are well matched. I anxiously scan the onlookers to see what effect Jag’s words had on them. I recognize a few of their faces from inside the great hall but have no way of knowing what Families they belong to.

  Jag lifts his chin, his stance prideful. “The person who kills my son will be rewarded with my absolute loyalty and an enormous sum of money. You and your Family will be favored in all deals and all agreements. You will be fully supported by the Lions and be envied by all other Strategia.”

  Jag throws a kick at my dad, who dodges.

  My pulse races and my muscles tense the way they do before a fight. I’m positive an offer like that isn’t easily passed up, not with the money and influence Jag presumably has. I raise my knife, moving closer to my dad. But he catches sight of me and puts his hand out, indicating I should stop. And I do, bracing for the inevitable onslaught.

  My dad slashes his knife at Jag, who leans out of the way. But Jag is fast, and he returns with a kick that connects squarely with my dad’s ribs, sending him staggering back a few feet. I take another anxious step forward, and again my dad gestures for me to stay where I am.

  As though they heard my silent plea for help, Ash, Layla, Matteo, and Aarya come flying through the kitchen door. I can only assume the battle in the great hall is over and that it went in our favor, but none of that will matter if Jag wins this fight. My friends look from me to my dad and Jag, assessing the situation and moving closer, weapons in hand. But even with four more fighters, if this crowd turns, we’re outnumbered by at least ten.

  Jag runs at my dad, getting so close that his knife tears through my dad’s shirt. Before my dad can recover, Jag advances again, this time nicking my dad’s shoulder and sending a line of blood down his arm. My dad returns with a punch, connecting with Jag’s jaw and splitting his lip.

  Jag spits blood onto the grass. “Did you hear me?” he says in a commanding voice, glancing at the crowd. “I said kill him!”

  Three seconds tick by and the onlookers stare at one another as though they expect someone else to make the first move. But no one draws a weapon; no one jumps to his aid. My dad advances with a punch and Jag blocks, but my dad nicks Jag in the cheek with his knife, not enough to do any real damage, but enough to make him bleed. Jag reaches his fingers to his face, incredulous.

  A snarl escapes Jag and he slashes his knife through the air in two fast swings, but unlike his previously precise movements, these are furious and out of control. And just like when I was a kid and my emotions got the better of me, my dad moves, waits for his moment, and delivers a perfect hit. He catches Jag’s knife midswing and sends it flying through the grass.

  For a second everyone is perfectly still. Jag eyes his weapon, but it’s too far away for him to retrieve.

  “Your reign is over,” my dad says, his voice confident. He takes a step toward Jag. “I want to be perfectly clear with you what that means: you’re not only done leading”—as my dad continues, his voice booms in the stillness—“you’re done being Strategia.”

  “They’ll never follow you,” Jag says, not backing down. “You’re weak.”

  “I disagree,” my dad replies, and for a second, I think I misheard him. Leading? As in leading the Lion Family? But he doesn’t…he couldn’t…could he?

  “You’re an embarrassment to this Family,” Jag says in a condescending tone. “You rejected Strategia; you shirked your duties, you have no place here.”

  “I never rejected Strategia. I rejected you. And while you’re correct that I didn’t build a reputation among Strategia as your son, I didn’t disappear from society. The Strategia know me by a different name.” He pauses. “The Ferryman.”

  There are gasps in the crowd and the confident expression drains from Jag’s face as he realizes he publicly announced that the Lions hired the Ferryman to…capture himself. I’m so shocked I nearly drop my knife. And suddenly the missing pieces fall into place. Hawk said Mary and Jenny helped the Ferryman capture my dad. Which means that while the blood in the apartment was real, the scene must have been staged. Hawk was also at the ball. I couldn’t understand why my dad sent me into such a dangerous situation without a net, but Hawk was the net; Hawk wasn’t hunting me, he was keeping an eye on me. I stare at my dad in awe.

  Jag’s expression hardens. “Rose—” he begins, but my dad cuts him off.

  “Rose will lead with me,” my dad says, and I can’t believe what I’m hearing. My dad is going to lead with Brendan’s mom?

  Jag puts one of his hands to his heart as though he’s going to say something, while the other drops by his side. But it drops unnaturally fast. For a second I can’t decide if his wrist flicked slightly or if I just imagined it. Then I see it—a small glass vial in the palm of his hand. The lightning poison! And from where my dad is standing, I know it’s not visible.

  And once again I see a flash from my dream—the great hall filled with dead bodies, Jag holding poison. While Aarya and Ash were right that it was just a dream, I realize that it wasn’t the death that scared me; it was the fear that I wouldn’t be able to do what I needed to in order to stop Jag.

  There is no time to warn my dad, so instead I ready my knife and yell the one thing I can think of that will affect them both.

  “Hamilton!” I scream.

  Jag’s eyes flit to me just as I had hoped, and I can tell my dad has registered my meaning—Jag is being crooked. And as Jag raises a blowpipe to his mouth, I don’t hesitate. I pull back my knife and throw.

  My aim is true and my knife lodges deep in Jag’s chest. But to my utter surprise, a dozen more knives and an arrow strike him as well. Not only did my dad and I react in time, but my friends and some of the crowd did, too.

  Jag falls to his knees, gasps for one last breath, and slumps to the ground. We’re all still for a beat, everyone absorbing what just happened and braced for backlash. But no one defends Jag. No one even looks upset he’s gone. After it becomes obvious that the conflict is over, my friends lower their weapons and everyone starts talking, astonished voices filling the courtyard.

  My dad turns to me, but I don’t move. It feels like I’m frozen in place, stuck between my moment of terror and my relief.

  “I hope his last words were the desire to look like a pincushion, because if so, he got his wish,” Aarya says. Even in the midst of her grief, Aarya can’t help being Aarya.

  But I’m not looking at my friends because I’m running full-speed to my dad.

  “Dad?” I manage, my voice cracking.

  He opens his arms, pulling me into a big hug. My dad, who I love more than anything, is here, hugging me, not lost in Europe or chained in a dungeon. I wrap my arms around him, burying my face in his shoulder. His familiar scent brings tears to my eyes and he rests his cheek against my head.

  “My girl,” he says gently, and I soak up his reassuring voice like it was sunshine.

  For a few long seconds, I just hold on to my dad, nothing needing to be said, nothing needing to be done.

  But my moment of peace is short-lived. I pull back, staring at him. “You left me,” I say, and there’s hurt in my voice, but also an accusation. “You made me chase you all over the UK! And, and, Logan, and that ball. How could you?” All the feelings I’ve suppressed over the last month are bubbling to the surface.

  My dad examines my face, taking careful note of my upset. “I owe you an explanation, Nova. You have every right to be upset with me. We will talk at length and I’ll answer all your questions. Just not here,” he says, and glances around the courtyard. “Let’s get you kids inside.”

  * * *

  We follow my dad down a long hall and
he opens a door to a cozy sitting room. There are an oversized wine-colored couch with two armchairs and a coffee table, a set of bookshelves, a few old trunks, and a lit fireplace. He holds the door open and Layla and Matteo file in, with Ash and me behind them. Aarya is last, and before she comes through the door, my dad quietly talks to her.

  “Aarya,” he says with a heaviness in his voice, “I cannot tell you how sorry I am.”

  For a moment, Aarya looks surprised, like she’s not used to adults showing concern over her. But as I register the grief on her face, I realize that my own frustration with my dad is a luxury, that I can only be mad because he’s here, that while I might not like what he did, I have everything to be grateful for.

  Aarya shakes her head as if to downplay her sadness. “Ines was proud to fight here today. She would have made the same choice one hundred times over.”

  My dad watches Aarya thoughtfully, reading her expression and her reaction to his tone. “I don’t know what your plans are going forward, if you intend to return to the Academy, but if you need time, you’re welcome to stay here with us.”

  For an instant, Aarya seems shocked by the offer, and I’m reminded that my dad isn’t like the other Strategia parents, that his time in Pembrook changed him. Or maybe being raised by Jag made him choose a different direction, a direction that involved being a loving and affectionate parent. Whatever the case, it’s clear that Aarya isn’t sure how to react.

  “I…well…I should really…,” she starts, and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen her at a loss for words. She sighs. “Thank you. Maybe I will.”

  My dad closes the door behind Aarya and gestures for us to sit.

  “Layla and Ashai,” he says. “Zareen’s kids. Your mother and I were once good friends when we were studying at the Academy.”

  I look from my dad to Ash and Layla, trying to make sense of his words. Their mother went to the Academy with my dad? Is that why Layla and I were paired as roommates? And then it occurs to me that my dad’s favorite whittling knife has a wolf handle. He told me his best friend gave it to him when they were teenagers.

  “She always spoke highly of her days with you as well, sir,” Layla says, but Ash matches my look of shock. I could groan. No matter what is happening, Layla always manages to know more than the rest of us.

  “Matteo,” my dad continues, his voice taking on a meaningful tone. “You and Layla were invaluable today. Your strategy and skill were advanced far beyond your years.”

  Matteo seems almost embarrassed under my dad’s prideful look. “It was an honor to be a part of it,” he says with polite and almost shy formality.

  “There have never been Academy students who have taken so much risk or accomplished so much as you all,” my dad says, and I feel my cheeks get warm at the dadness of his gushing. “Because of what you did here today, the power balance will not only be restored among Strategia, but the world at large will be safer. Of course this adjustment will take time and it will take work, work that will involve the Council of Families and all of your respective Families.” He pauses. “Now, I’m certain you all have questions,” he continues, “and if I can answer them, I will.”

  “Did you know that Jag intended to start a war with the Bears?” Layla asks, wasting no time, and I look from her to my dad.

  “I did,” he says. “But by the time November’s aunt and I realized what was going on, the Regent and Jag were already planning their attack. If we didn’t act immediately, the other Families would be forced to take sides and Strategia as we know it would be forever changed.”

  I reflexively look at Ash and he meets my gaze, an understanding passing between us. This is the reason Ash had been searching for. This is the reason everything happened when it did.

  “November’s aunt took care of the Regent,” my dad says, confirming what I already suspected. “We sent November to the Academy to protect her and to keep Conner from killing Matteo, and I came here to stop Jag.”

  They all look at me, but I’m just as surprised about Matteo as they are.

  Aarya chuckles. “Boy, Matteo, I bet you feel like a jerk for punching her.”

  Matteo’s eyebrows dip and he looks like he wants to say something to her, but he stops himself and closes his mouth. Maybe he’s going easy on her because she’s in grief or maybe he’s just more mature than she is. But whatever the reason, I’m not paying attention to Aarya’s needling, I’m staring at Matteo.

  “The punch…,” I say, my voice trailing off. “It was Blackwood, wasn’t it? Blackwood told you to punch me.” My thoughts race as I connect the dots. “So everyone would believe we were enemies, completely disguising the reason I was there.” The best poisons are psychological and emotional, Professor Hisakawa taught us. “And Conner redirected his energy to me.” I look at my dad. “Oh my god. You knew Conner would want to kill me more than he wanted to kill Matteo.” The question I don’t ask, though, is how did my dad know Conner wouldn’t succeed?

  “Truthfully, it was more than the Lions’ attack on Matteo that we needed to prevent,” my dad says. “If Conner’s actions remained hidden, the Lions would have succeeded in systematically killing the best students from noncompliant Families, and the surviving young Strategia would have been forever tilted in the Lions’ favor. Either because they were fearful or because they were loyal, the remaining Strategia would have grown up pledged to Jag. Change the young, change the world. My father knew this, hence beginning his attack at the Academy. What you did in that school is every bit as important as what we accomplished out here.”

  We’re all silent for a moment.

  “When Rose realized what her father was planning at the Academy, we all decided it was time to take action,” my dad continues, but I cut him off.

  “Rose? You were talking to Rose?” I say. Ines surmised he needed a contact in the Lion Family to pull off the Regent murder, but it never occurred to me it was Rose.

  My dad nods. “We’ve been in contact for some years now.”

  “Angus,” Ash says, shifting gears. “He mentioned the Ferryman to November. Did he know it was you?”

  My dad nods. “Angus is an old friend,” he says. “He’s known me since I was a boy. And the tip you acquired about Hawk’s crew being vulnerable, while true, was also orchestrated by him.”

  Ash raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed by my father.

  “Logan was another story, however,” my dad says. “There was no avoiding him, but there was also no controlling him.”

  “Exactly what I said!” Aarya says, and gives Ash a vindicated look.

  “And Hawk’s crew,” Ash says. “They were in your employ the entire time?”

  “They were,” my dad replies. “They kept track of you all for me and were meant to run interference at the ball if things went wrong. If you were looking closely, you would have seen that under that executioner’s mask was Eddie.”

  I stare at my dad, baffled by the scope of what he did here and the skill it took to pull it off.

  “And the note,” I say. “The one you left for us in the apartment telling us to come to the dungeon. You acted surprised to see us. But you knew we were coming the whole time, didn’t you?”

  My dad takes a heavy breath, a weight appearing to rest on his shoulders. “I never wanted you all to come to the dungeon. It was never my intention. But Jag found out you were in London shortly before the ball and he was preparing to send his assassins with instructions to kill everyone but Nova, whom he planned to execute publicly.”

  Aarya blanches.

  “With no better alternative, I slipped information to Logan, giving him a chance to make more money, win Jag’s favor, and outwit you. Then Rose convinced Jag that he should let you all come to him, to sneak into his dungeon, that it would be impactful for all of Strategia to see the far reaches of his power.”

  We’re all q
uiet for a beat and I look at Ash and Aarya. Would they still be here if Jag’s assassins had come for us? I shiver involuntarily.

  Matteo, who has been mostly silent, clears his throat and glances toward the door. “Forgive me, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I can’t stay. My Family is expecting me.”

  My dad nods, understanding. “Tell Maura I’ll be in touch shortly,” he says without further explanation.

  “I will,” Matteo says, and stands, but turns toward me before he leaves. “Also…I just wanted to say, November, that my mom’s in town for another few days.” He pauses. “And well, if you want to meet her, I think she would really like that.” The tension that’s usually between us is noticeably absent.

  My eyes widen and warmth spreads deep in my chest at the idea that my mom and Aunt Jo’s sister wants to see me. “I’d love to,” I say, my delight seeping through my words, and with a friendly nod he turns. “And, Matteo,” I say, calling after him. “Sorry I punched you in the face the other day.”

  He shrugs. “I guess that’s just our thing.”

  We share a smile and he walks out the door, closing it behind him.

  I turn back to my dad, to find him watching me, and realize how different we both are since the last time we saw each other. But my moment of reflection is short-lived because it suddenly occurs to me that Matteo is leaving but we aren’t.

  “Why aren’t we leaving?” I blurt out. “I mean, why are we still here, at the Lion estate?”

  They all look at me, then at my dad.

  His expression reminds me of the day he told me I was going to the Academy; it’s reassuring and sympathetic, with the recognition that he’s delivering difficult news. “We’re staying here.”

  “Staying here?” I say in disbelief. “Do you mean for the next few hours, or—”

  “For the foreseeable future,” he says, and my eyes nearly bug out of my head.

  I swallow. “You can’t be serious. You want me to live here, in the Lion estate with Brendan.”

  Aarya chuckles. “Just think, if you need to kill him, at least you’ll know where he is.” Even Aarya’s optimism is twisted.