by M. E. Breen
“He was a wonderful father.”
Prudence raised her head quizzically, and Annie realized she was crying and her tears were dripping all over the cat.
“When did he change back?”
“Two years after me. Perhaps he drank more of the potion than I did. Perhaps the witch did it deliberately. I don’t know. He was with Jock when it happened.”
“I remember. I remember the story,” Annie clarified. She wished she could remember more. She wished she could remember her mother’s human face.
“We watched you, you know, through the garret window. What we’d do for a glimpse of you and Page squabbling or laughing! It was Sharta’s job to look after Page. I looked after you. I followed you sometimes, and your friend who was so curious about the world.”
“Gregor.” Tentatively, Annie leaned into the wolf’s side. Her fur felt so soft. She smelled so good. “Am I what they say, the scion?”
“The prophecy of the scion is very old, handed down from mother to pup. The words may no longer mean what they once did.” Helia hesitated. “Not everyone believes in prophecies as Fristi does.”
“But you thought it might be me.”
“Yes.”
“What does the prophecy say?”
“We wrote it down for you.”
Annie sat up. “You wrote it in Hippa?”
“Not in Hippa. Hippa has no letters. Did you find the page we hid in the book?”
“I couldn’t read it.”
“We wrote in ancient Frigic. No one could read it without the grammar.” She shook her head, amused. “That first year as humans we bought everything in the bookseller’s wagon. We hadn’t even learned to read, but we were desperate to find something that would tell us what it meant to be human. That Frigic grammar was heavy going, to say the least, but it did prove useful.”
“Page must have used it. She started to translate the prophecy.”
“She was always good with letters.” Helia sounded proud.
“I’m not,” Annie said.
“Oh, Annouk! You have so many wonderful gifts of your own!” It was such a silly, motherly thing to say, but Annie beamed. She had a mother.
Helia bumped her gently with her head.
“Why did you go to so much trouble to hide it if you wanted me to read it?” Annie asked after a moment.
Helia sighed. “Your father and I agreed on most things, but not on what to do about the prophecy. He thought you should know it, to better prepare yourself should any need arise. I thought you should be free of old stories, and find what happiness you could in the human world. Writing in code was a sort of compromise. Besides, we didn’t want anyone else to read it. Do you still have the book?”
“Yes, but it’s ruined.”
Helia nodded. “That’s good. Better yet to burn it.”
“Now tell me what the prophecy says,” Annie said.
“I never wanted you to know.”
“Mother—”
“Once you know, you know forever.”
“Mother, tell me.”
Helia spoke the words quickly, as if she didn’t like the feel of them in her mouth.
“The Scion of darkness will bear the white mark,
Human form, animal heart.
Black water, radiant night,
Torn from love, wounded life.
Changeful child, shelter the pack.
Brave in battle, devour the witch.”
“Devour?” Annie said.
“Let’s not think about it anymore. Let’s not talk. Come, the sun is out.”
Later, as Annie was preparing for sleep, the wolf trotted over with something in her mouth. She set it down in Annie’s lap.
“I’ve been keeping this for you.”
The red slipper had Izzy’s face stitched on the toe. One of his ears was chewed. The real Izzy came over and gave the shoe a sniff. Annie ran her finger along a spray of orange thread.
“I tried many times to come for you, once it became clear the prophecy was real.”
“I know.”
“I sent guardians to protect you.”
Annie looked at Izzy, at Prue. “I know.”
“I loved you always.”
The last of the snow melted over the next few days. Annie found she could hardly stand to have her mother out of her sight. They walked together, ate together, slept side by side. Fristi sent a messenger with news: the king’s army was bearing its dead and injured back to Magnifica. Beatrice and Serena remained at the battlefield to care for wounded wolves. Brisa was recovering slowly. Rinka had declared the prophecy of the scion ridiculous. Fristi had declared Rinka ridiculous, apparently right to his face.
“And Page?” Annie asked. “Can I see her?”
“She will come to you. She is better now, and only waits for the king.”
“Waits for the king? Why?”
“I know nothing more about it.”
And what of Gibbet and his men?
Chopper, Smirch, and Pip were prisoners of the king’s army. Hauler remained at large. Gibbet had begged to be transferred to the custody of the wolves, and to Annie’s custody in particular.
Uncle Jock was buried where he fell in the cutting field.
Annie sat cross-legged at the entrance to the cave. She had taken the gull-rock from her dress and was tossing it from hand to hand. Helia nudged her shoulder.
“What are you thinking about, Annouk?”
Annie held the rock up to her mother’s nose. “What do you smell?”
Helia sniffed. “I smell the sea. I smell you.”
“But not Gregor.”
“Your friend, do you think he is alive?”
Annie didn’t answer. Then Helia said something that surprised her. “Why don’t we look for him?”
“Can we?”
“Annouk, you have hundreds of wolves to direct as you wish.”
“No!” Annie shook her head, trying to dispel the panicky feeling her mother’s words caused. “Just the two of us.”
“Very well. Where should we—”
“The Drop. Let’s go to the Drop.”
They left after dark. Helia ran along in front, sniffing out the trail, while Annie jogged behind. After several miles they stopped to rest beside a stream. Annie recognized the clearing as the place where she had seen Gibbet speak with Rinka, so many months ago. The face reflected in the stream’s surface looked older than before, more serious, but also more serene. Her hair trailed in the water as she bent to drink.
“Are you ready?” Helia was clearly enjoying the hunt.
Annie looked at her feet, suddenly shy. “Can I ride on your back? The way Page did?”
“Annouk, you don’t need to ride on my back. You can run alongside me.”
“Please?”
“It will be faster if we run together.”
Annie nodded, oddly hurt. But Helia was right—they were fast, leaping over rocks and roots, the night air streaming past cool as water. They left the forest and raced along the top of the cliff. Far below them, the dark, swollen river raced through the gorge.
There was nothing left of the Drop. The tents had been pulled down, the baskets and scales packed up and carted off, the kiln behind the orphanage dismantled brick by brick. Of the orphanage itself only a jumble of charred boards remained. A notice had been tacked to one of them: “Mine closed by Royal Decree. Direct inquiries to Office of Mineral Exploration and Management, Magnifica,” followed by a date and the waxy mark of a signet ring. Annie felt something brush her ankle and looked down. The cats had followed them. Izzy’s orange fur was covered in soot. She stooped to brush him off, but he slipped away from her.
The doorway to the orphanage stood intact, though there were no walls on either side of it and no door left to open or close. Annie stepped through. Izzy was sitting in what had once been the middle of the floor, next to a pair of boots. They were very big boots with metal spikes fixed to the soles. The spikes had been pounded into the ground so firm
ly that Annie could not pull them up. The cats wreathed around the boots as if someone was standing inside them. Annie’s heart beat faster. She reached into the right boot and found the vial from Grandmother Hoop that she had given to Gregor before they separated. It was empty. She reached into the left boot. At first she felt nothing, but then she found it, way down by the toe: a match.
It was a message. She knew it was a message. But what did it mean?
Gregor, Gregor, what are you trying to tell me?
And then she heard his voice, his small, tired voice, singing the answer.
Darling, what do you wish for? The dark is drawing near.
A light, Mother, a light, to find you when you’re far.
“Mother! Gregor’s alive! He left me a message. He knew I’d come back for him.”
Helia hurried over. “What does the message say?”
“I think he’s with Hauler, and he took Grandmother Hoop’s medicine, and we’ll find each other. No matter how far apart we are, we’ll find each other.”
“I am sure you will,” Helia said.
She let Annie ride on her back all the way home.
Chapter 19
Annie stretched on her side and let the stone’s warmth seep through her dress. Green tips of plants poked up through the dirt lapping the stones at the cave’s entrance.
“It’s strange how everything grows in the forest but nothing will grow on the farms,” she said lazily. “Except Chopper’s farm, of course.”
Helia lifted her head. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“Dour County soil was some of the best in the country. We had such a lovely farm in the beginning. Beets, squash, potatoes, the sweetest little carrots. It was strange at first, getting used to vegetables, but I liked it. Primrose was wonderful with flowers.”
“She was your friend?”
“Yes, I suppose she was.”
Annie must have made a face. Helia sighed. “She wasn’t always so … prim. Jock was a good farmer, before he met Gibbet. The four of us got on well enough. And she did keep you safe, at least at the beginning. Jock would have sold you straight to the Drop.”
Annie didn’t enjoy feeling beholden to Aunt Prim. “What about the soil?”
“The Drop had just opened, but at the wages Gibbet paid no one wanted to take the work. Gorgetown was a real place then, with a school and shops, not just the tavern. Merchants brought goods from the east. A man could make a decent living fishing or farming. So Gibbet paid Jock to … He salted the fields, Annouk. One by one the farms began to fail, even ours, ‘for appearances,’ he said. Soon Gibbet had men lining up to mine the quarry.”
Annie rolled onto her back and closed her eyes to the sun. Small greed, she thought. The apothecary hated ringstone, but Gibbet—Gibbet loved it, loved it as another man would love his own child, simply for itself. And Gibbet not even a man, not really …
Helia jumped to her feet. “Annouk, they are coming!”
Serena led the horse with Page on his back. Beatrice, shadowed by her sister’s body, walked beside them. They appeared and disappeared among the dark trunks, Serena’s red bun glinting occasionally over the top of a bracka bush.
Annie stood. She sat down. She stood again. Bones left over from breakfast lay scattered on the ground. She kicked them into the bushes.
Baggy stepped into the clearing and the full procession came into view. Fristi carried a rope in her mouth. The rope’s other end was tied around Gibbet’s ankles. From time to time Fristi stopped and jerked her head, forcing Gibbet to hobble forward. Annie saw what made the wolf impatient. Gibbet walked with a cringing, hunted posture. Every few steps he would stop and look over his shoulder, then scan the sky. Wolves stalked behind him, keeping guard, but he hardly seemed to notice them.
The horse, too, dragged something behind him—a litter, bearing a body wrapped in red and gold robes.
If only one of them would meet her eyes, it would be easier. Serena fiddled with Baggy’s halter. Beatrice fiddled with the buttons on her cloak. Page fiddled with the bandage around her wrist. Only Fristi looked Annie in the face, but her eyes, calm and full of devotion, were not the ones Annie needed.
Then Prudence, who had been napping with Izzy in a patch of sunlit dirt, rose, stretched, and padded over to Beatrice.
“Oh!” Beatrice said. “Oh, Annie!”
“Dear Annie!” The next moment Annie was engulfed in Serena’s familiar tea and copper scent, then passed to Bea, who smelled of beeswax and flannel, then back to Serena. They smelled of the battlefield, too, and weariness.
“Good gracious, your sister! I nearly forgot!” Serena moved to lift Page down from the horse’s back but Page shooed her away. Her hair had been cropped short and stood around her head in a blonde fuzz. A white bandage covered her neck.
With a little cry she stumbled forward and dropped to her knees in front of Annie. She clung to Annie’s waist. Awkwardly, Annie touched the back of her head. The shorn hair felt soft. Page was shaking. She was laughing. Her breath came in giddy bursts.
“It’s just you!”
“Who did you expect?”
“The scion. I thought you’d be different. Serious, or hairy, or—”
Annie smiled. “Just the usual amount.” She met her sister’s eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me Sharta was our father?”
“I wanted to, but he was afraid of what you’d think, having a beast for a father. He was afraid you’d hate him.”
“He told you. You didn’t hate him.”
“I loved him. But he didn’t tell me, and he wouldn’t have.”
“But you knew.”
Page smiled. “It wasn’t so hard to figure out. He knew which foods I hated. He knew my favorite books. And he—he was the same, even as a wolf.” She studied Annie’s face. “Don’t feel bad you didn’t recognize him. You were so young when he changed.”
“I didn’t remember.”
“How could you?” Page said, but her eyes had focused on something past Annie’s shoulder. Her face turned bright and anxious. “Hello, Mother.”
The twins were whispering furiously together.
“Serena, the king—is he dead?” Annie asked.
“His heart was not strong enough to pump blood for them both,” Serena said.
Annie knelt beside the king’s body. His flesh was gray and had a weird rigidity to it, like a casing of clay. She felt she owed him something, some words, at least, but she didn’t know what to say. She touched her palm to his chest.
“Annie, wait, he is—,” Serena began, but Annie had already jumped back with a shout of surprise. Hesitantly, she reached out to touch him again. She could feel the beat of his heart.
“You said his heart failed!”
Unaccountably, Serena blushed. She looked to her sister for help. Bea smiled encouragingly. Serena cleared her throat and tried again.
“Annie—do you remember the clock I showed you the day we traveled to Magnifica together, the clock that was to be a gift for the king’s bride?”
“For Page. Of course.”
“Do you remember how the clock worked?”
Annie’s mouth felt full of sand. “The clockwork heart? You gave him a clockwork heart?”
Serena looked at Beatrice again and the little woman stepped forward.
“She took the heart from the clock and I, well, I sewed it in. The lungs move, the heart beats, but he is not alive.”
Serena elbowed Beatrice. “Give them to her now.”
“Do you think we should?”
“Of course we should!”
Bea reached into a cloth pouch and pulled out a stack of papers bundled together with a red ribbon. “He said to give these to you if he died. He said—what were his exact words, Serena?”
“‘To please forgive a wicked king.’”
Annie looked at the stack of papers. “Dear Annie” was written at the top of the first page. She tore the ribbon away. Dear Annie, Darling Annie, Little O
ne, Beloved. All of Page’s letters, dozens and dozens of them.
“There are five more bundles like it,” Serena said.
Annie watched the king’s chest rise and fall. “Why did you do it, the metal heart?”
Bea looked over at Page, with her beautiful face and her child’s haircut. “Your sister said she could not bear to live without him.”
Annie looked from Page to the king, from Beatrice to Serena. She thought of Rinka pulling Brisa from the pit. She thought of Helia and Sharta worrying over the prophecy together. That strange old feeling settled in her chest, part pity, part longing, as though she knew how to love, but not quite enough. Then Izzy—Izzy, who didn’t particularly like to be touched, Izzy, who hated to be held—took a few light steps and jumped into her arms. She squeezed him too tight, and he let her.
Fristi stood apart with Gibbet and his guards. Gibbet wore a gag and his hands were bound. His whole body bobbed and jerked as Annie approached.
“I won’t hurt you,” Annie said. “But I might lock you up.”
A burst of sound came from behind the gag. Annie reached for the tie.
“Annie, is that wise?” Serena called. She stood a few yards away, uncertain whether her help was needed.
“Maybe not.” Annie removed the gag.
“Lock me up! Lock me up, I beg you!”
The white false teeth formed a strange counterpoint to his stricken face, a face smooth like a child’s yet indescribably old.
“You had them pulled, didn’t you?” Annie said. “So you could pass for one of us.”
“Please,” he whispered.
“She sent you into the world. She had a purpose for you, but you failed. You fell in love with ringstone.”
Gibbet’s wild eyes focused on her face. “Two hundred years I looked for you, I waited for you. And yet I never really looked. What danger in a child? I thought. But I was never a child. Lock me up. Hide me. Only you can keep me safe.”
His voice trailed off. A look of absolute terror crossed his face. Annie heard it too, a vibration in the air like the beating of a large bird’s wings.
