A thin man standing closest to the passageway noticed Liv and Cedric come through first. His mouth fell open in surprise, and Liv saw he was missing several teeth.
“Aldis? It is Aldis, yes?”
At the sound of Cedric’s voice, the others in the room turned around, some of them gasping in surprise.
The man continued to stare. Finally, he nodded. “Pr-prince?”
“Yes. An army has come to turn the wraths from the castle. They will begin at any moment. I need to know—is my father still alive?”
“I—I do not know, Highness,” Aldis responded, then lifted his chained arms by means of an explanation. “The wraths keep us locked in here to cook.”
Liv looked around the kitchen-like space and the small piles of rags that lined the walls. At first glance they might be mistaken for garbage, but now Liv saw an older woman lying on one and realized what they were. Beds.
“You have been here all this time?” Cedric asked.
“Since the castle fell,” Aldis said, his voice shaking. “We are not permitted to leave the kitchens.”
Cedric’s jaw tightened, his eyes turned dark. Liv knew that look.
“This ends today.” He stared hard at the chains on Aldis’s wrists. “I do not have the keys to free you yet, but I will return. I swear it.”
Without waiting for a response, Cedric strode quickly toward the door at the far end of the kitchen.
“Sir!” Aldis called out after him, his voice barely louder than a hiss. “There are wrath guards on the other side!”
Cedric paused just long enough to pull out his sword, then quickened his step toward the door. He yanked it open so hard the wooden door went flying back into the stone walls. Liv jumped at the noise, but the two hulking guards on the other side of the door looked even more surprised. Cedric stabbed one of them in the side before he could fully turn around. The other wrath reached for what looked like a giant club with metal spikes coming out of its end. It swung the club at Cedric’s head, but he ducked just in time. While the wrath was still following through on its swing, Cedric pushed his sword up into its belly. He pulled it out again quickly as the creature fell forward onto the floor.
Black blood dripped from the tip of Cedric’s sword as he turned toward Liv, his face as still and hard as stone. “Coming?”
Liv scurried after him as he made his way through another hall outside the kitchen. The hall itself was dark, with very few windows cut high into the gray walls, leaving little light. Liv could see what looked like torches stuck into the walls, but they were unlit.
“So that was a little scary,” she finally said, jogging to keep up with Cedric’s pace.
“You have seen more wraths than that in one place.”
“Not them. You. I’ve seen you fight before, but I haven’t seen that . . . You took them out so . . . brutally.”
Cedric kept his eyes forward, his hand tightened on his sword. “Aldis and the others have worked in the kitchens for years. I’ve known most of them since . . . always. And they were in chains. Did you not see? The wraths had them in chains.”
“I saw,” Liv whispered.
They turned a corner, and then Cedric stopped abruptly. Liv didn’t stop in time and crashed straight into his back. He quickly turned and pulled Liv with him, pushing her up against the wall in the first hallway and flattening his body against hers.
“Uh . . . ,” Liv started.
“Wraths. Four of them.” Cedric whispered low, his breath tickling her ear. “Coming this way.”
Liv could feel Cedric’s heart pounding in his chest. Her own pulse sped up long before she heard the clattering, heavy footsteps moving down the hall adjacent to them.
“Stay very still,” Cedric whispered. “And very quiet.”
Liv gave a small nod in response, her ear brushing against his cheek. His breath was hot against the hollow of her neck. This close to him, it was hard not to think of how tightly he’d held her by the stream after saving her from the wrath in the woods. Here she was again, skin humming and buzzing, pulse racing, her body reacting even when she didn’t want it to, even when she hated it.
How would the wraths not hear her when her heart was pounding this loud?
The footsteps moved closer to where they hid in the shadows of the darkened hall. Liv held her breath and willed herself to freeze, like an actor having to play dead. She saw a light approaching the hall opening and realized one of the wraths must be carrying a torch. If it happened to look right, no amount of shadows or stillness would hide them . . .
“Hey!” a gruff voice yelled out, and Liv twitched. Cedric pushed against her more firmly. But the voice wasn’t from the wrath with the torch. It seemed to come from farther away. Another wrath approaching the group.
“Something’s happening. At the north gates.”
“What?” one of the closer wraths responded.
“I don’t know, do I? We’re supposed to go see.”
The wrath with the torch sighed in response. “What the hell is it now?” His voice was already moving away, and the light was retreating, too. Soon, all the wrath footsteps faded away down the hall.
For just a moment, Liv and Cedric remained frozen together against the wall. Liv lifted her eyes and saw he was looking down at her, his face only a couple inches away, his eyes shadowed in the darkness. His lips parted—
“We have to hurry,” he said.
He pulled away quickly, and a rush of cold air filled the space where he’d been. He turned and started to run, and Liv followed, willing her nerves to get a grip. Through every bend and twist in the hallways, down every flight of stairs, past every heavy door they passed, she ran. If the wraths already knew the city was under attack, she had to get to Peter now.
Eventually, the air grew colder and seemed to press down more on Liv’s body. She shivered even as she ran, her California skin not used to this level of damp and cold. Cedric reached back and grabbed her hand, guiding her forward so she wouldn’t trip in the darkness. Up ahead of them, Liv could see a faint light. As she grew closer, she realized it was a flame from a single torch in the wall. It lit up a long, narrow space with bars on either side. It smelled dank and awful, and every one of Liv’s instincts told her not to go in that room. But Cedric’s hand pulled her even faster than before, and his eagerness was contagious.
They were practically sprinting by the time they entered the narrow space, which Liv realized was the dungeon. Cedric stopped abruptly and dropped her hand.
“This cannot be right,” he said, turning around in one full circle at the cells on either side of them. “It cannot be.”
Liv stepped past him, looking left and right. The small torch sent just enough light for her to make absolutely sure—the barred doors on the cells stood open, and every single one was empty.
VERTIGO
“They have to be here somewhere,” Cedric said as he led Liv up the twisting back stairs of the servants’ quarters.
“You’re right. We’ll find them,” Liv said. But her words had a false, placating sound.
He tried not to think of the dungeons, of the wide-open, empty cells. Of the faces he had last seen behind those bars months ago. He’d been so sure his family would be in the dungeon still, so sure he’d rescue them—
But what if there was no one left to rescue?
His heart twisted. He tried to shove the thought aside, but it wouldn’t budge. Instead, he gripped his sword hilt so tightly his fingers ached. He noticed the back of his hand was splattered with blackish blood.
“So where . . . are we going?” Liv panted as they rounded a landing and stepped into a corridor.
The sentence was barely out of her mouth before Cedric stopped in front of a large, familiar wooden door. He’d passed this door hundreds of times in his life, and had had more than one occasion to go through it, when he’d fallen ill as a child or when he’d twisted an ankle on a hunt.
He tried to push the door open, but it was locked. He slamm
ed his fist into the wood near the doorjamb, and the resulting noise was so loud, Liv jumped back.
“Cedric?”
“These are the healing quarters. If anyone was injured, they might have been taken here . . .”
He kicked at the wood, this time sending parts of it splintering away from the door. Liv didn’t say anything, but edged slowly away from him.
“This is a good sign, Liv. It would not be locked unless the wraths were trying to keep someone out . . . or in.”
On the fifth kick, the door busted inward. Light from the windows of the healing quarters spilled out into the hallway, and for a moment Cedric couldn’t see anything in the room at all. But then his eyes adjusted to the light, and he took in the familiar settings—the large, arched windows, the rows of clean beds. Lying on the bed at the far side of the room was a figure propped up against a pillow.
“Peter!”
Liv flew into the room, running over to her brother so quickly she nearly crashed into the bed. Cedric followed, scanning the room once again to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.
He hadn’t. No one else was there.
“Liv?” Peter asked, his voice full of disbelief. He pushed himself up even more on the bed, though Cedric noticed he didn’t get out of it.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” Peter continued. “Emme said you’d follow, but I didn’t think you’d actually come after me—”
“Of course I’d come after you!” Liv replied, sounding both relieved and angry. “You idiot!”
Cedric noticed her eyes filling with tears, though she didn’t cry.
“I’m so sorry, Liv. I’m so, so sorry. Emme said she needed help, and I thought I could save her, I thought . . .”
“It’s okay.”
“No. I should never have left you and Daisy behind. And now . . .” He looked down at the bed, where he was covered by a blanket from the waist down.
“What happened?” Liv asked, gently.
Rather than respond, Peter slowly pulled the white blanket aside. His right leg was completely wrapped in strips of linen, from his thigh all the way down to his ankle.
“It was the portal,” he whispered. “Malquin said I didn’t go through it right—”
“Malquin is here?” Cedric interrupted.
Peter looked up at him for the first time. He nodded, heavy. “He asked me to tell him where you were staying in Los Angeles, but I wouldn’t say, Liv. I wouldn’t. I made Emme promise not to, either. She felt bad after . . . what happened.” Peter looked down at his leg.
“Oh, Peter,” Liv breathed, following his look. “Is it . . . ?”
“Broken. Feels more like shattered. But the healer said I’ll be able to walk again. Probably.”
“We have to get you home, back to a real doctor.”
Before Peter could respond, Cedric stepped forward. He wanted Liv to have her moment, but seeing her with her brother only reminded him more of the family he needed to find.
“Liv, I need to search for the others.”
Liv nodded, but her eyes were panicked as she gestured to Peter. “He can’t walk. How can we get him out . . . ?”
Cedric’s mind raced. Every second that ticked by was another wasted opportunity to get to his family before the attack began. He looked around the thick, stone walls of the room.
“Stay in here. It is secure, and less dangerous than sneaking Peter out if he is injured. Bar yourself from the inside when I leave, and do not open the door for anyone but me.”
Liv looked terrified, but she nodded again. “Good luck.”
The light from the windows fell on Liv and Peter, making the top strands of their brown hair shine in identical shades of red-gold. In that moment, they were undeniably siblings. Cedric blinked at the image before leaving the room and shutting the wooden door behind him.
He barely realized where his feet were taking him until he arrived at another pair of wooden doors, these ones much larger and carved with various delicate depictions of hunting and feasting. His father’s quarters.
He pushed his shoulder against the door, surprised when it opened easily. He was even more surprised by what he saw inside.
King James was sitting in the same large wooden chair where he used to sit to scold Cedric when he’d done something wrong as a child, or to clean his smaller weapons during peaceful evenings once the day’s work was done. The king who sat on the chair now looked very much the same, and yet . . .
The set of his shoulders was unchanged, as was the fierce look in his eyes. But he also looked grayer and thinner—smaller—than Cedric remembered. The whole room, in fact, felt smaller than Cedric remembered.
Two wrath guards stood on either side of the king. They immediately jumped forward when Cedric entered the room, but stopped at a single motion of the king’s hand.
“Father, I . . . ,” Cedric faltered, suddenly confused. Why were the wraths guarding his father also obeying his commands? “I am here to rescue you.”
“Yes, I can see that,” his father responded.
Cedric, thrown, just shifted in place. He suddenly felt incredibly young. It was almost as though the past few months had never happened, and instead of traveling to another world and fighting dozens of monsters, he’d simply been out hunting and drinking too late and was now waiting for a punishment. King James stared at him, his blue-gray eyes unreadable.
“I . . . ,” Cedric said. “Are Mother and Emme nearby? Are they all right?”
“Perfectly fine, both.”
His father’s voice was maddeningly calm. He nodded to the wrath on his right, who moved forward and seized Cedric’s arm. Cedric was too surprised to react. He waited for his father to give some explanation, but the king was whispering to the other wrath guard. After a moment, the creature gave a grunt and walked to a curtain in the back of the room. He pushed it aside and walked into some sort of passageway that Cedric had never known existed.
“Father, what . . . ? We have to get out of here.”
“No, son,” the king responded, his voice even. “We have to wait here for Malquin. He is very eager to see you again.”
The world seemed to stutter and stop. The king’s words echoed in Cedric’s ears, but he couldn’t make sense of them.
Nothing made sense.
And then Malquin emerged from the secret passageway behind the curtain and nodded—actually nodded—at the king. Cedric wondered for a moment if he were going insane. But when Malquin turned his dark eyes to Cedric, all of his doubt hardened into anger. He ripped his arm free from the wrath guard who held him and stood straight to face Malquin head-on.
The man looked much like he had when Cedric had seen him last, from his twisted arm to his long, whitish hair. Only his expression was different. Instead of the snarl Cedric had seen on Malquin’s face while trying to wrest a gun away from him in the warehouse, there was now a thin-lipped smile. He looked calm, completely in control.
Malquin moved to stand next to the king, putting one hand on his shoulder. Cedric felt bile rise in his throat.
“Cedric,” the king started, “I was worried for you when you went through that portal—”
“You were the one who told me to go!”
The king put up one hand, signaling that it was his turn to speak. Cedric’s mouth clamped shut out of habit.
“When Malquin returned to our world, he put my mind at ease. He assured me you were safe.”
Malquin inclined his head forward slightly, all patronizing benevolence.
“He also offered me a deal,” the king continued. “One so strong, and with so many benefits for Caelum, that I did not think but to accept it.”
“You cannot trust him!” Cedric burst out.
“Hush, young prince. The adults are talking now,” Malquin said, his thin smile pulling wider. The king’s face tightened at Malquin’s words, but Cedric’s whole body sprang forward in response. The wrath next to him grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back.
“As I
was saying,” the king continued, “I accepted Malquin’s bargain. He has offered our family’s freedom, and the autonomy to once again rule over our lands, so long as we double the territory of the wraths who choose to stay in Caelum and agree to stop hunting them within our borders.”
“The wraths who choose to stay . . . ,” Cedric parroted, confused.
“I promised the wraths a victory over the Guardians,” Malquin said with a slick chuckle. “But it turns out, many of them want something even better—a world where they can hide in plain sight and follow no rules but their own. A world in which they’re four times stronger than the men who live there. Plus, hot water running straight from the tap. Of course, some wraths will want to stay behind. There are always those who fear change. But they will have territory and the knowledge that they defeated the Guardians through their own power. A fine reward for taking part in the invasion. But most of them—”
“Are going to Earth,” Cedric said, the words thick in his mouth. “You’re sending them to Los Angeles.” Then he remembered how few wraths had been on watch at the city gates, and in the castle. “Or you already have.”
“I did not send them anywhere. The wraths made up their own minds.”
Cedric cast a wild look to his father. “You cannot do this. You think these creatures will obey the laws of the other world, will refrain from taking anything and killing anyone they choose? There will be no way for the people of Earth to protect themselves—”
“That is not our concern,” the king said, his voice stern. “Caelum is our only concern. If so many wraths choose to leave, our land will be all the better for it.”
“No . . . ,” Cedric said, shaking his head. Memories flashed before him—children gazing at giant bones in the museum, hundreds of people walking freely down busy roads, the way the wraths had torn through the police officers in their path one dark night in a brick alley . . . “We were made Guardians for a reason, because we are the only ones who can keep the wraths in check. To let them loose on an unsuspecting world—it is wrong, Father. This is the wrong way.”
The Broken World Page 13
