by April White
Flashes of visions went past my eyes like old-fashioned newsreel. The Armans returning to the tower room and Mr. Shaw attacking them. Millicent in Miss Simpson’s office screaming at the Armans. Mr. Shaw boosting us out of the window as we made our way to the attics. Doran looking in at the window at us trapped inside and shaking his head. Mongers striding in the front doors of the school to face a line of teachers. Wilder grinning at me from across Tower Green while a Monger rushed at me with a knife. A sword swinging down and slicing off Elizabeth’s head.
Tom jerked his arm away from me and I gasped at the sudden loss of sight.
“Wow.” I felt off-balance, like too much information had just downloaded into my head. Tom was just putting the bracelet back on when Mr. Shaw stopped him.
“No. Give it to Saira.”
“It’s my insurance,” Tom protested.
“Her word is all the insurance you need. Give it to her.”
Reluctantly, Tom uncuffed the bracelet from his wrist and gave it to me. Mr. Shaw helped me put it on and hide it under the sleeve of my sweater.
“Now, how are we getting you out of here?”
Tom didn’t speak. Maybe he was still overwhelmed by all the different choices there were. But I knew. “We need a boost out of the window. Then I can hold Tom so the fall to the attic roof is doable, and you can drop me down after him.”
“I don’t like it.” Mr. Shaw’s voice was gruff, and I could hear the weird dad tones he pulled out when he was worried about me.
“Me neither.” Tom sounded a little panicked, and I remembered from free-running lessons that he’s afraid of heights.
I turned to Mr. Shaw. “It’s what I do. I’ll be fine. As soon as we get into the attics I’ll Clock us out of there.” Then I looked Tom straight in the eyes. “If you don’t do this, I’m leaving you here. So deal.”
He gulped and lost all color in his face, but then nodded. I got busy opening the window.
“Wait.” I turned to Mr. Shaw. “Can I have the green medicine to take back with me?” He didn’t even hesitate. He handed me the tin of green medicine and an extra bandage, both of which went into my back pocket with the bloody linen cloth from my hand.
“What else do you need? I brought my kit.” He pulled out a small cloth roll and unwrapped it, pointing to things he named. “Aspirin, morphine, a scalpel, scissors, tape, antibiotics…” Then he emptied his other pocket. “A lighter, matches, a mini Maglite, spare batteries, and ether.”
“Ether? Why are you carrying around a little jar of ether? Is it a narcotic?”
He shrugged. “You never know when you might need to knock someone out. Like a guard.” He wrapped the cloth roll back up with the new additions and handed it to me. “The ether’s highly flammable. Be careful with it.” I nodded and stuck it in the waistband of my jeans, pulling my sweater down over it.
“You’re pretty awesome, you know that, Shaw?”
He chuckled. “You’re not so bad yourself, Elian.”
The spring air felt like the hottest summer in comparison to the bone-chilling cold of the warded tower room. I climbed out on the ledge first, and Mr. Shaw insisted on holding onto my ankle just in case I suddenly decided to take a header off the roof. Getting Tom to follow me out took a lot of coaxing and pushing and pulling, so I was glad to be anchored to something.
Tom finally sat on the ledge, but kept his eyes closed. I guessed the instinct to hurl himself off that some people have was actually pretty real for him. I got on my knees and Mr. Shaw held tight to my ankles while Tom grabbed one hand and one wrist, to make up for my injury, and slowly lowered himself off the window ledge. I finally understood the meaning of glacial, and more than once I was tempted to just let go and let him drop the full distance, but after about a decade, when we were both completely extended, it was time.
“You’re going to land in a gully on the roof. Drop into a crouch first thing and that’ll absorb some of the impact. I’m worried about the noise of breaking tile, so try not to scream and give anyone a reason to look up, okay?”
“You promise I can survive this?”
I considered the snappy comeback I would have made to anyone else and discarded it. “You can do it, Tom. You just have to see it in your mind.”
“I did see it, remember?”
“Great, then do it just like you saw. Land, and then get out of the way so I don’t use you as a body cushion.”
He took a deep breath. My grip was starting to slip from his sweaty palms. “Okay.” And then he let go.
To his credit, the scream he swallowed turned into more of a yelp when he landed, and he did okay on the tiles, but it looked like he might have twisted something.
“You okay?”
“I hurt my right ankle.”
“Just a second. Move, and I’ll be right there.”
Tom shifted out of my landing zone and I leaned back up into the window. Mr. Shaw seemed surprised to see my face, especially when I took his big, ginger-haired one in my hands and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”
The gruff dad-voice was back. “Love you, kid.”
I grinned. “Love you too.” And then I extended down from his hands and let go.
The fall wasn’t bad. I’d done that distance before, but usually onto the ground where I could take a step without hurtling off the roof. Tom looked like he nearly swallowed his tongue when I landed next to him, and his arm shot out to grab me when I threatened to take a step for balance.
“Thanks.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, let me see your ankle.” I knelt down next to him and gave it a cursory examination. “Well, if you survive this next bit, you’ll live.”
“Thanks.” There was no smile on his face. Nothing but the grim line of his mouth.
Right. Absentee sense of humor. Got it. “Let’s get down to the attics, shall we?”
“Yes.”
And … we’re down to monosyllabic answers. “Okay, wait here while I find the best window ledge to get to.” I was across the roof before he could protest, but I doubted Tom had anything left but the sheer will not to vomit.
I was back in less than a minute. “I’ll help you across this bit. There’s an easy dormer to climb down and the window’s already unlocked. I’ll hold you so you can get inside first.”
His ankle clearly hurt him as he hobbled across the rooftop, and I was pretty sure he just followed my directions with his eyes closed.
Behind us, in the Seer Tower, I could hear angry voices, and the Bear’s booming yell over all of them. He said something about a spiral, and I hoped they believed we left through a portal instead of out the window. But I pushed Tom faster and we finally made it inside the attic with the window shut behind us.
It was a different wing from the one I’d visited with Olivia, and most of the box rooms seemed empty. A couple were still furnished as though they were maids’ quarters, and one down at the end of the hall was locked.
“What are you doing, Saira? I thought we were spiraling out of here directly.”
“We will. I’m just looking for any clothes that might disguise you in 1554.” I looked at him closely. “Are you sure you still want to go back? I can wrap your ankle and give you an aspirin, but that’s it for the painkillers.”
“I’m not going to stay here. Not when I can do something there.”
“Okay, then take off your shoe and let me stabilize your ankle first.”
I wrapped my old bandage around Tom’s ankle and tied it loosely. He stepped on it to try his weight.
“It’s good. Better than before. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. You want to help me look for stuff and we’ll meet back here in five minutes?”
“Sure.” We split off in different directions. I searched the furnished rooms, starting with the closets, which were empty. Then I rifled through drawers for any personal items that might have been left behind. I managed to scrounge a piece of candle and a linen handkerchief, but that was
all. Tom was at the end of the hall waiting for me by the locked door, where he held up the key with a proud smile. “I’ve been practicing on locked rooms around school.”
“Nicely done, Houdini.” I was impressed. Apparently I didn’t suck as a teacher of nefarious skills. He unlocked the door and pushed it open carefully.
I gasped.
Inside was an art studio. There were blank canvases propped against the wall, half-finished landscapes on various easels, and a table full of beautiful art supplies; oil paints, acrylics, pastels, colored pencils, pens, and brushes of all sizes and shapes. It was like one of my versions of heaven and I stepped reverently into the room.
“Lock it behind us but leave the key in the door.” My voice was hushed like the way people speak in church, and I thought the comparison wasn’t a bad one.
“Who works here?” Tom touched one of the brushes, and I resisted the urge to slap his hand away so he didn’t get the oil from his skin on them.
The room was the last one on the hall, and the far wall was made of plaster. Swirled into the plaster, nearly invisible unless you caught it sideways to see the raised edges, was a spiral.
“It’s Doran’s.”
I didn’t bother to answer Tom’s quizzical expression. I was too busy looking for clues to my cousin’s world. There were no sketchbooks or inspiration boards or anything else to indicate his art came from anywhere but his memory or imagination. Some of the oil paints were so old they probably had arsenic in them, yet the acrylics all looked fairly new. There was a cobalt blue oil paint that I instantly coveted, and a metallic gold that looked like it was made from gold leaf. I pocketed both of those, and one small brush.
“What are you doing?” Tom had poked around a little, but mostly just watched me move carefully around the room.
“Leaving him a note.” A Murano glass ink pen and a bottle of black ink stood on the table near a pad of drawing paper. My note informed Doran that I’d taken two of his paints and a brush, and would probably take the glass pen as well to give Elizabeth. I also told him I’d be back in 1554 if he wanted to find me, as there was the little matter of some tangled time that needed attention. Considering that my cousin had basically left me to deal with a deranged, Vampire-infected, time-traveling bishop on my own, he should consider helping me out. Although a frozen hell was likelier than Doran’s assistance when it really counted. I really did try hard not to be snarky in my note, but I also didn’t feel bad taking the pen and paints with me.
Tom finally noticed the spiral on the plaster wall. He pointed to it. “Hey, isn’t that a—“
“Yep. If you’re serious about doing this, you’re going to want to hold on.”
I stood right in front of the spiral and Tom hurried over to hang onto one of my belt loops as I began to trace the first spiral. Aislin’s cuff gleamed at me from my wrist and the hum started in my ears.
“Saira?”
“Yeah?”
‘Thank you.”
And just like that, we were gone.
Chopped
There was still about an hour before sunset, but the light outside the chapel’s windows was strange. Overcast, like it was maybe going to rain. I had pictured the chapel perfectly in my mind, and somehow that seemed to make the travel easier. For me anyway. Tom was hunched over on the floor trying to keep the dry heaves at bay, but he was a puker, so it wasn’t a shock.
“Come on. I need to change and get you out of sight.”
“Change?” His voice was a little shaky.
“Clothes.” I looked at the odd expression on his face. “I’m not a Shifter, you know. Only part.”
He took a deep breath. “I didn’t … I know.” He looked around. “Where are we?”
“The chapel of the Royal Apartments. The building doesn’t exist in our time.”
“It’s pretty.”
People surprised me occasionally, usually when I didn’t expect them to care about anything but themselves. The fact that Tom had noticed a room at all, much less thought it was pretty, that was one of those surprising things. It made me less grumpy with him. For the moment.
We slipped out of the chapel, and made it to the pages’ annex with no issue. Which was odd to me. Before dark was usually the busiest, with people getting meals and setting up for night when the only light came from candles and fires.
Archer was still asleep, if it could be called that. It really was more like stasis. The bruise on his face was completely gone, and the sucking sound in his chest had disappeared. I touched his cheek softly but he didn’t move a muscle. He was out cold.
The rest of the room was empty. “Where’s Pancho?”
I wasn’t talking to Tom, but of course it begged the question.
“Who?”
“A kid we picked up. He kind of watches over Archer during the day.” Tom’s eyes were drawn to my sleeping Vampire, and I found myself wanting to put myself between them to protect Archer, even though I knew Tom was one of the few people from our time who accepted him.
I found my dress where I’d left it and tugged it on. I didn’t bother turning my back to Tom because I left my camisole and jeans on underneath the heavy wool dress. He watched me with detached fascination. “How do you lace that up by yourself?”
“I don’t.” I turned my back to him and lifted my braid out of the way. “Don’t pull too tight though. I’m a fan of breathing.”
He did a credible job getting everything closed. “Thanks. I don’t have anything for you to wear though, so don’t go anywhere. I need to find Elizabeth and get her to try the cuff so we can figure out a plan to change things.”
I topped the dress with my cloak and Tom seemed surprised. “You suddenly look like you stepped out of a fairy tale.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I know. This one has a stubborn Seer and a villainous Vampire bent on drinking her blood.”
He winced. “What do you need me to do?”
I looked at Archer and I wished I could wake him up and take him with me. “Can you hang here and fill him in on everything when he wakes up?”
“You don’t need my help out there?”
I shook my head. “I’m just going to the queen’s apartment. I’ll be back soon.”
With one last glance at Archer’s sleeping form I left the annex, and despite the heavy skirts, I sprinted upstairs.
No one was outside the queen’s apartment door.
Not good.
I slipped in through Ringo’s room and found the door between the rooms open. There was no one inside either. There didn’t seem to be any signs of a struggle, more like the women had just stood up and walked away.
It wasn’t good at all.
I bolted back down the stairs and to the kitchens, meeting no one on the way, and when I stepped outside a heavy mist slapped me in the face like a wet blanket. I pulled my hood up and closed the cloak over my dress with a shiver. Something was wrong. As soon as I turned the corner, I realized why there was no one inside. Everyone was on the green.
Oh, no!
I sprinted toward the crowd gathered around the far end of the green. A small figure was running toward me in a panic, and I was just about to duck out of the way when I realized it was Pancho.
“They’re gathering on the green! At the scaffold!”
Oh, God.
“I need to see him before they do it! I need him to know he’s not alone.” Pancho was nearly hysterical.
Wyatt. Of course. Wyatt would be executed on April 11, 1554. That must be it. I almost sagged in relief that all this wasn’t for Elizabeth. Her vision was wrong, or she’d changed things already. That had to be it.
Pancho trembled and the tears started for real. My heart broke for the kid. He was trying to be so strong for his brother.
“Come on, I’ll get you close. Pull the hood up on your cloak so it hides your face.”
We ran toward the thickest part of the crowd, where they gathered around the scaffold. I expected the onlookers to be jeering or throw
ing things, but maybe that just happened in movies. These people were nearly silent as they watched the prisoner kneel in front of the block. His dark cloak hid his features, so maybe they were just waiting to see his face before they shouted insults at him.
We wove our way through about twenty onlookers before we got close enough to see the executioner. He was a smallish man, his hood covered everything except his eyes, and he leaned on a sword while Wyatt’s cloak was removed.
Wait, that was a sword.
Wyatt didn’t get a sword.
It wasn’t Wyatt.
Long, reddish gold hair was swept to one side and bent toward the block.
Elizabeth’s hair.
Elizabeth’s neck.
No.
“No.” The word was a whisper that died in my throat.
The sword raised up.
NOOOOOOO!!!!!
And slashed down.
The wet sound of the sword as it sliced through bone and flesh sent bile into my throat. I don’t know if it was an actual scream that tore through me, but I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t swallow.
All I could do was stare at the beautiful face of Elizabeth Tudor as her head rolled away from her body.
I might have blacked out for a second, but the thing I could finally focus on was Pancho’s face in front of mine. He was terrified, and kept shaking me as if to wake me up.
“Go! Go find Archer! Wake him up! Tell him to come!” I might have whispered, or maybe yelled, but he heard me. Pancho’s eyes searched mine one last time and then he ran for the Royal Apartments like his life depended on it.
A flash of silver caught my eye and Aislin’s cuff taunted me from under the sleeve of my dress.
Despair welled in my chest. If only …
Wait.
I looked around me. The crowd was disbursing. People seemed to be in shock, and my own horror was echoed on several faces. I saw Courtney across the green, sobbing with giant, choking gasps while another of Elizabeth’s ladies held her upright. Behind me was the White Tower, and I stumbled toward it, around the side, behind the corner tower.
