by C. R. Grey
“It’s okay,” Bailey said to reassure her, even though he wasn’t sure if this was true. “We’re out near the low cliffs.”
Tori’s eyes widened.
“What in Nature are we doing all the way out here?” Tori began hitting the dynamo light with the flat of her palm, trying to jolt it into working properly. It sputtered, flashed once, and then emitted a beam of dim light. “What are you looking for?”
“I’m not sure yet,” he admitted. He wondered whether telling Tori to watch for signs of a giant predator would help the situation at all. Instead, he crouched low and began scanning the tree trunks around them, hoping that whatever marks he found—if any—were old.
“Everyone’s being so secretive lately,” said Tori. Bailey could tell by the slight waver in her voice that she was nervous, but trying to put on a brave front. “Phi’s got her super-secret independent study in the tinkering shop, and here you are looking for ‘something, not sure!’ in the Dark Woods. I always thought I was the mysterious kind … ”
“What do you mean, about Phi?” Bailey asked. She hadn’t mentioned any special classes to him earlier.
Tori shrugged.
“I don’t know what it is. But she spends her dinnertime before practice at Tremelo’s workshop, and when I asked what they were making, she said she’d show me when the time was right.”
A chilly breeze blew through the woods. Tori pulled her sleeves down, and crossed her arms over her buttoned pajama top. Bailey saw a flash of scarred skin on both her wrists. “It’s so quiet out here,” she whispered. “It’s positively creepy.”
Bailey had to agree. The hissing had subsided, and the Dark Woods was almost too quiet, as if the entire place were holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. He had the strangest feeling, similar to the one he’d felt the night of the rigimotive incident. The feeling of being watched.
“You … you don’t think there’s someone else out here, do you?” Tori whispered, as if she were reading his mind. The skin on Bailey’s arms and neck felt shivery.
“I don’t,” he lied.
Just then, there was a rustle behind them in the bushes.
Before he could even think, Bailey grabbed Tori’s hand as the two of them spun around, their hearts pounding in the almost total silence of the woods. A flash, a darting shape, and Bailey held his breath.
It was only a fox, scurrying past them from behind a boulder.
Bailey sighed with relief, and Tori let out a nervous laugh.
“Sorry,” Bailey said, letting go of her hand.
Tori straightened her pajama top and smiled.
“It’s okay.” She exhaled. “I was scared too.” Her snake was practically strangling her, and she tried to disentangle it. “What’s wrong with you?” she addressed it impatiently. “It was only a—”
But at that second a giant gray wolf, snarling, jumped out at them from the darkness of the trees. Bailey felt the sharp, wrenching pain in his forearm before he even registered what had happened.
He fell backward, holding his arm. Tori screamed as the creature turned to her. She whirled the faulty dynamo lamp, her only weapon, above her head and brought it crashing down on the wolf’s nose. What little light the lamp had provided immediately died. In the darkness the wolf backed away a step, growling.
“Bailey!” Tori yelled, holding the remains of the broken dynamo lamp in one hand. “Are you okay?”
Bailey tried to get up to help her fend off the wolf. He’d fallen hard against the trunk of a tree, and his back was throbbing almost as much as his arm. The wolf was still snarling, showing all its teeth, muscles tense. Tori, moving quickly, grabbed a heavy stone from the forest floor, and chucked it, hitting the wolf in the front leg. It growled and sidestepped. Bailey hauled himself to his feet. The wolf dug its front paws into the ground, and Bailey knew it was preparing to leap at them.
“Tor … ” he whispered, his hands shaking. He grabbed at her to push her out of the way, but his arm felt so weak.
Suddenly, from behind them, a loud, primal scream rang out—it was a man, his voice so loud, angry, and like the roar of a real animal that the wolf paused. An arrow whooshed by them and hit the tree directly behind the wolf with a loud twang.
“Get back!” shouted the man, barreling past Tori and Bailey and approaching the wolf head on.
It was Tremelo. His driving jacket billowed out behind him as he jumped in front of them and leveled a heavy bow made of gears and springs at the attacking wolf. Tremelo pulled a clicking trigger and loosed an arrow that whizzed by the wolf’s left ear and sunk with a thud into the same tree. The wolf growled and yelped, then slunk away.
As Bailey watched it disappear into the trees, he thought he saw something that made him catch his breath: the silhouettes of two men standing in the trees. He squinted, trying to force his eyes to adjust to the dark, and the men were gone. But he’d seen them; he knew it. He’d been right.
Tremelo threw the bow over his shoulder and stomped toward Bailey.
“What were you thinking?” he asked, furious.
“There were men,” Bailey said, and he tried to point before a jolt of pain reminded him that his arm was wounded. “Just over there.”
“Come on,” said Tremelo quickly, but not before Bailey recognized a surprised look in the professor’s eyes. “We need to get your arm looked after.”
“But, sir. Their kin attacked us, and with the bear attack, what if—”
“There’s no one out here,” responded Tremelo curtly. “You’re seeing things.”
He grabbed Bailey’s good arm with one hand and Tori’s arm with the other and began dragging them back through the woods. Bailey began to wonder how Tremelo had simply appeared in the woods with a bow and arrows. Had he been following them? Or was he prowling the woods for his own reasons? Did he really believe that no one was out here, or had he been lying? Bailey’s head swam with the possibilities, and he began to wonder what, exactly, Tremelo was doing here at Fairmount.
Tremelo’s kin, Fennel, trotted ahead of them. Of course, Bailey thought to himself. We saw her just before the wolf attacked. Tremelo knew we were in danger because of her. But why had the fox been following them in the first place?
Then a terrible thought struck Bailey. He’d been caught. Yes, by Tremelo, who broke the rules just as often as anyone, but he’d been caught nonetheless. If Tremelo chose to report him, Bailey would be expelled. No excuses. No second chances.
As they reached the edge of the forest and could see the Fairmount buildings up on the hill, Tremelo let go of them.
“Sir … ” Bailey tried to say.
“You say one word begging me not to tell Finch, I’ll leave you out here with not a single look back,” Tremelo growled. “What will be done is my decision now, not yours.”
Tori and Bailey looked at each other and stayed silent. Tori looked much paler than usual.
Fennel reached the door of a small stone carriage house that sat tucked among the trees. Tremelo beckoned them over to a low side door and unlocked it. He looked around for lights on in other windows.
Bailey realized that, instead of leading him to the school’s infirmary, Tremelo had brought them to his own quarters. He began to feel uneasy.
“What are we doing here?” he asked.
“If you show up in the infirmary with some cock-and-bull story, you’ll be out of here faster than you can say I’m an idiot,” Tremelo spat as they followed him up the stairs.
Bailey and Tori barely had enough room to stand in Tremelo’s messy apartment. They stood back to back in the sitting room as Tremelo squeezed past a towering pile of books and disappeared into a side room. They heard rummaging and the clanking of bottles.
“Don’t bleed on my floor, boy,” Tremelo called. Bailey looked down at his wound. There was a lot of blood, but underneath was only a scratch. It wouldn’t need stitches—at least, he hoped it wouldn’t. Tori elbowed Bailey in the side.
“Are you seei
ng all these books?” she whispered. Bailey craned his neck around to look at the shelves. They were stacked with all kinds of different books, some of them very old. Some of the newer ones were just cheaply printed pamphlets, with titles like The False King’s Power: The Jackal and Parliament, and The Parliament’s Crimes Against the People. Many books seemed to be about the Animas bond’s history and power. One book that piqued Bailey’s interest was called The Velyn and their Kin: A Study in Transformation.
Tremelo re-entered the room. “Ants to this place,” he muttered. “I can never find anything I’m looking for .… ” The corner of a large trunk stuck out from behind a sagging armchair, and Tremelo dragged it out into the few feet of space left in the center of the floor. Bailey and Tori pressed against the closest bookshelf to make room. Tremelo opened the trunk, trying to block Bailey and Tori’s view with his shoulders, but not before Bailey saw a jumble of odd-looking glass vials and beakers, and a huge book bound with what looked like real leather, embossed with the image of an animal. He exchanged a worried look with Tori.
“Aha!” said Tremelo, and he held up a small jar of grayish salve. “Very rare, very potent. Hold out your arm.” Bailey did as he was told, though he wondered if he wouldn’t regret it.
The salve stung like someone had just rubbed bits of sand on a sunburn. His whole arm began to itch.
“Don’t touch it; I know you’ll want to,” Tremelo warned. He released Bailey’s arm.
The top of the trunk on the floor was still open. Bailey leaned forward to get a better look, but Fennel leapt onto the top of the trunk, closing it before he could manage so much as a glance. Her golden eyes narrowed.
“Her favorite snack is curious students,” Tremelo said with an angry edge to his voice. “Mind she doesn’t get ahold of you.” He sat down on the edge of the armchair, resting his elbows on his knees and fixing both Bailey and Tori with a stern stare.
“Now, if you two are at all interested in staying at Fairmount— or even staying alive—then listen up.”
Thirteen
“I REALIZE THAT I am hardly a paragon of responsibility,” said Tremelo. “But I have the power to get both of you booted out of this school, so I suggest you listen to me very carefully all the same.”
Bailey glanced at Tori. Her black hair hung messily around her face, and made her look like a small child about to be reprimanded. Her snake had settled inside the collar of her pajama top, and was as still as if it were just a piece of heavy jewelry.
Bailey swallowed.
“Some rules are complete bunk,” said Tremelo, pacing. “And we all know it. Curfews, what have you. But going past the school grounds into the Dark Woods at night is pure idiocy. Whatever you have to prove, either of you, you do it within Fairmount grounds.”
Tremelo turned his dark eyes on them. He was angry, Bailey could see that plainly. His eyebrows were furrowed, and underneath his mustache, his lips were pursed as though he was trying to stop himself from cursing. But there was something else there too that Bailey could see: the way Tremelo’s fingers, which had shot those arrows so expertly, so calmly, were trembling. The gleam of sweat on Tremelo’s forehead. He was worried.
“There are reasons the Dark Woods are forbidden, and they have nothing to do with silly stories or schoolboy dares. Real dangers lurk in those woods. You could have been killed tonight. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” Tori whispered.
Bailey knew that he was already in enough trouble, and that the smartest thing to do would be to answer yes and take his punishment. But he couldn’t ignore what he’d seen in the woods. There were people out there with dangerous, aggressive kin, and Tremelo didn’t seem to care.
“I don’t understand, sir,” Bailey said, forcing himself to meet Tremelo’s gaze. “There are people in the woods. I want to know why. Why did they attack us? What do they want with Fairmount?”
Tremelo glared at him.
“You’ll recall what I said about being too curious? It would behoove you to stop snooping around when you’re only going to get yourself and your friends hurt.” Tremelo passed a hand across his eyes. “You are letting yourself get carried away, Bailey, and it’s not going to help you do what you’ve come to this school to do. Your job here at this school is simply to keep yourself out of harm’s way and let those who know what they’re doing take care of the real threats. Now, I ask you again: do you understand?”
Bailey burned with anger, but he nodded. Tremelo knew more than he was letting on, that much was obvious. Was the professor angrier that Bailey was breaking the rules … or that he was asking questions?
Tremelo escorted them back to the dorms. They walked a few paces behind Tremelo as he led them on the path from the teachers’ quarters to the main campus.
“How does your arm feel?” asked Tori quietly.
Bailey hadn’t even thought about his arm since the tingling from the salve had worn away. He looked down at it now. The blood had dried, and the skin around the wound was healing already.
“It’s fine, I think,” he said. He ran his hand over the wound. The scabbing was smooth.
“You’ll be lucky if you don’t have a scar,” said Tori, looking up ahead at Tremelo.
Bailey thought of Tori’s scars, and the way she was always careful to conceal them with long sleeves. But tonight, in the excitement, she had forgotten; her sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, and in the light from the moon and the few dim lampposts on the main path, Bailey could see the puckered, glossy skin running the length of both forearms. She saw him looking and sighed, rolling down her sleeves again.
“It was a fire,” Tori said, sensing the question in his eyes, “in our apartment when I was a kid.” She kept her eyes on Tremelo’s back as he walked ahead of them. “I was just a couple years old. Some of the Jackal’s supporters lit fires in parts of the city when Parliament deposed him.” She shuddered. “That’s why my parents are so scared of the Dominae. The Gray City always gets caught in the middle.”
Up ahead, Tremelo stopped short and swirled around to face them. They’d reached Treetop.
“We’re the only ones who know the extent of your wandering tonight,” said Tremelo. “So let’s keep it as such, shall we? If Headmaster Finch finds out, this won’t be a very happy story for either of you. But in exchange for my silence, you two have to promise me that you will stay away from the woods.”
Reluctantly, Bailey nodded. Tori said a quiet, clipped “Yes, sir.”
“Good,” said Tremelo. “Believe me. I’ll be watching.”
He pointed Tori toward the front door of Treetop. Tori turned her thin shoulders and glanced at Bailey as she slinked away, and her snake flicked its tongue in his direction. Bailey gave a small wave as she disappeared into the dimly lit Treetop entrance.
Tremelo put his hand on Bailey’s back and guided him on toward the Towers.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Bailey began. He was well aware that this was the second time that Tremelo had caught him out of his dorm late at night, and he didn’t know what the professor might be thinking.
Tremelo held up a hand, cutting Bailey off. With his other hand, he reached into the collar of his shirt and fished out a small pendant on a chain.
“This is for you,” he said. He lifted the chain over his neck and handed it to Bailey, who was too confused to argue. The pendant was coin-like, a small, round piece of metal with the image of a sleeping fox engraved on one side, and some letters on the other. Both sides were worn, and Bailey could only just make out Tremelo’s own name on the talisman.
“I don’t understand.” Bailey asked. “It’s yours. It has your name on it.”
Tremelo looked away, as though he was thinking very hard about how to answer.
“It was given to me when I finally Awakened to my Animas,” he said. “My father told me that it would offer protection. I don’t even know if I believe it at all—he was a superstitious old kook about many things—but I like to think that it’s true, in
this case.”
Tremelo knelt until his eyes were level with Bailey’s, and he did not look away.
“You hold on to that for me, and mind what I said about the Dark Woods. Your Absence is a unique problem, I know. And perhaps that’s what drives you to un-puzzle things the way you do. But you’re not safe—not in the woods. And next time I may not be there to help.”
Bailey nodded. He looked once more at the sleeping fox on the pendant, and slipped it into the pocket of his work pants. Tremelo stood and began to walk back toward the teachers’ quarters when Bailey suddenly remembered something.
“King’s Finger Oak,” he called out.
Tremelo turned. He raised an arched eyebrow.
“A tree that bears seeds, but no fruit,” Bailey continued. “That’s one part of the riddle, isn’t it?”
Tremelo didn’t move except to stroke his mustache in thought. He seemed about to say something, but then changed his mind.
“Go to bed, Bailey,” he said instead and walked away.
Fourteen
TREMELO GLANCED AT THE clock tower as he made his way back to the teachers’ quarters. Two thirty, a time when any sane person would be trying to get some sleep. But as usual, Tremelo’s mind was too busy to let him rest.
“King’s Finger Oak,” Tremelo said aloud, and shook his head. Tremelo sighed. He was no better than his father, telling riddles that had no answer. He could see his father now: the bottle-thick monocle and its dangling, fraying string. The frizzed white hair, the patchy velvet waistcoat. The smile. What Tremelo wanted more than anything was the ability to ask the Loon what the night’s events meant.
Figure it out yourself, boy! he’d say. You figure out how things work, you learn the world by heart. Everything is just one gear putting pressure on another.
Figure it out yourself. Of course, the Loon had never been talking about real gears, but about people.
The Loon was a loving father, but inattentive. He’d worked for Melore as a scholar, but after the king’s death, which happened when Tremelo was quite young and now did not remember, the Loon continued his studies obsessively, even dragging Tremelo from the city to the mountains, sometimes with only a moment’s notice. He’d been too busy with his theories and stories of the old Seers, the Velyn tribe, and King Melore to take care of a small child in the midst of his conspiring followers, the RATS. The RATS themselves may have introduced Tremelo to myrgwood and rootwort rum when he was a young boy, but they’d also been the ones to help him retrieve his father’s books and papers years later, after the Jackal had the Loon killed. Tremelo had been twenty-two then, and after his father’s death, the RATS helped him search his father’s home and study for the Loon’s hidden books before the Jackal’s soldiers returned to loot it again.
