Evan Burl and the Falling

by Justin Blaney

  She was so close I could feel the warmth of her skin.

  This wasn't right. It wasn't going to make leaving any easier. I only had a day left with her.

  "We," I swallowed before continuing, "really should be going."

  "I'm sorry Evan," she whispered suddenly, almost desperately, and leaned even closer so our lips were almost touching. Her words surprised me and I forgot why I wasn't supposed to be thinking about kissing her.

  "For everything," she added.

  I took a breath and held it. For a long moment I thought she was actually going to kiss me on the lips, but she turned my face at the last second and kissed me softly on the cheek. Then she reached down, took my hand in hers, and we started walking.

  For a moment, I couldn't even remember where we were going.

  I found myself thinking about her hand. The shape. The feel. It was small. Calloused. Trembling. I didn't want to leave her. I wanted to freeze that moment and never leave it. But then I remembered her words.

  What was she sorry about? Arguing with me? Not believing that Pearl could be alive still?

  I glanced at her for a clue, but she stared straight ahead. Her eyes looked wet, but it was hard to tell for sure.

  And at that moment, I noticed that her skin didn't feel warm anymore; her hand was cold as iron.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Claire

  Thursday

  9:48 pm

  25 hours, 1 minute until the Falling

  The eyes blinked again, then they were gone.

  I let out a long breath. Had it just been my imagination?

  I reached down into my stockings and pulled out the book about Evan Burl. I read it again, just to make sure I wasn't imagining what it said. The part about executing Evan Burl was still in there. I thought about Papa, how I was sure he might murder me just for knowing about the book. I tried to think of how to stop him.

  Then I realized, I couldn't do it alone. As much as I hated the thought, I needed to tell someone. I couldn't tell my mother, she was always angry about something. Besides, she could be helping Papa. She would take me to him for sure. I couldn't tell any of the servants, none of them talked to me, except to tell me what to do or ask me what I wanted for breakfast. I didn't think any adults would believe me anyway, they all adored Papa. Like I used to. I only had one person to go to, and she was the last person in the world I would have chosen if I had any other choice. Anastasia. She deserved to know. She was his daughter too.

  I burst into my sister's room and found Anastasia holding a dress in front of her by the mirror.

  "Where have you been?" she snapped. "Let's try these on and get back to the party before I miss anything good."

  "Ani, I have to tell you something."

  She fell onto the bed with a sigh. "Look at me. I'm so fat!"

  "Ani!"

  "I think I ate too much."

  I walked over to the bed and pinched her on the arm just to get her to shut up.

  "Owww!" Anastasia jumped up and grabbed me by the hair.

  "Stop," I begged. "I was just trying to get you to listen to me."

  Anastasia twisted my hair tighter, then let go suddenly, as if she simply lost interest in torturing me. Just then, I thought I heard something bump in the hallway outside Anastasia's room.

  "Did you hear that?" I asked, looking in the direction of the hallway.

  "You're a freak," Anastasia said.

  I shrugged. Our house was so big; strange noises happened all the time. But I had to be more careful with my sister. I knew Anastasia well. I knew how far to push her without waking Terisma—Ani's dark side.

  "Look at this." I held the book up, but Anastasia was busy slipping into the dress she had been given. I tried again. "There's something I have to tell you about Papa."

  "Ouuu, it's so pretty," she said as she admired herself in the mirror. The dress shimmered bright orange and red. It really was beautiful on Anastasia, the way it shined in the light like a burning fire, and I forgot what I was going to say for a moment.

  "Here," Anastasia said, "put yours on."

  I remembered with a start what I had come to tell her.

  "No, I can't. I need—"

  "Don't be an ungrateful pig. Put it on."

  "I don't want to."

  "Put it on NOW!"

  I took a small step back. Perhaps I was closer to waking Terisma than I had thought. Anastasia said it felt like a Taipan lived inside her, it made her do terrible things. When the Taipan woke up, Anastasia became Terisma. Nothing scared me more than Terisma, except, maybe now my own Papa.

  "Fine," I said, not wanting to push her off the edge. "Just listen to me as I dress."

  "You can talk all you want, just put it on. I want us to match when we go out for the dance."

  "I overheard Mother and Papa arguing," I said as I set the book on a table and pulled the dress over my head. "They were talking about some secret of Papa's."

  Anastasia didn't seem to be listening. She was fussing with her hair, combing it over and over even though it only looked the same.

  "Did you hear me?" Ani still didn't respond, but I went on anyway. "I think I found out what the secret is."

  I picked the book up and waved it at her.

  "Your dress is brighter than mine, isn't it?" Anastasia said, "It's not fair, you always get the better gifts."

  "Would you shut up about the dress!" I yelled.

  "Don't tell me to shut up."

  "I'm trying to tell you something important."

  "I won't have you ordering me around like I'm some servant's brat."

  I grabbed a wooden hanger off the bed and held it between us. "I'll spank you like a brat if you're going to act like one."

  "You wouldn't dare," Anastasia said as she stepped towards me. Something evil flashed in her eye. Memories of tortured and twisted animal bodies flashed through my mind.

  "I'm sorry," I said quickly and lowered the hanger, "I just..."

  I was suddenly tired of being pushed around by my sister. She was only two years older. She was just a bully. Next to Papa, Ani mutilating helpless animals for fun wasn't as scary as it used to be.

  She looked at me, her head tilting to the side slowly, as if she was reading my thoughts.

  "You think you're not afraid anymore." Anastasia said.

  I didn't care anymore. I was going to face my sister, no matter what happened. "I'm not afraid."

  Anastasia pushed me up against the wall. "Maybe I should call Terisma. Let's see if she can scare you."

  Her pupils grew large, so they nearly filled her eyes. Then she swung her fist at my face, but stopped it an inch from my nose. She laughed.

  "You're too easy," she said as if she had only been messing with me. She let me go. "I don't want to have to hear you cry like a baby for the rest of the night because your perfect little nose is crooked."

  I smiled to myself. I stood up to Anastasia and won. "I knew you wouldn't hit me."

  "Then why did you flinch."

  "You were afraid of what I could do."

  "A little rat like you? What would you do, wipe boogers on me?"

  "I could make you hurt. I could light you on fire. If I wanted to."

  "Not that again." Anastasia rolled her eyes.

  The door to her room creaked and we both snapped our heads in the direction of the sound. It was swinging open like something had pushed it, but nothing was there. Must have been a draft. I walked over, looked into the dark hall, but saw nothing but shadows. I pushed the door shut and the handle clicked into place. I hesitated for a second, then reached up and pushed the locking bolt in, just in case.

  I turned back to Anastasia. "I can make you hurt and you know it," I said quietly.

  "How?"

  "You know how."

  "I want to hear you say it."

  I folded my arms tight in front of me. "Just like Papa. Magic."

  "That's a fairy tale."

  "You've seen him do it. So have I."
/>
  "That's a lie!" Anastasia growled a little as she said it.

  "Well I've been practicing."

  "Fine," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "Show me."

  "I can't do it right now. I can only do it when I really need it."

  "You're a moron."

  "Alright. I'll show you. Stand back."

  I wondered what I was getting myself into as I focused on Anastasia's bed.

  "I thought you were going to do it to me," Anastasia said sarcastically.

  "I don't want to burn your dress." I said. "Then I'd have to listen to you whine like a baby all night because you only have a hundred more."

  "Shut your face."

  "Stand over there. I'm going to do it to the bed," I said, "No. Further." I gestured with my hand to move back more and Anastasia took another step. I narrowed my focus so everything beyond the bed's wooden frame went blurry.

  Anastasia laughed. "You look stupid."

  I shh'd her. "Don't distract me."

  "We could be eating candy right now." Anastasia slumped against the wall and looked out the window. "Hey, they have the cake out there."

  "Quiet!" I spread my arms wide and paused, then clapped my hands loudly in front of me. A thump came from somewhere beneath us and a tea cup on the nearby shelf rattled for a second.

  My mind jumped to the eyes on top of the wall. Could something have come inside the house? The hairs on my arm stood up.

  "Did you hear that?" I asked, staring at the door, suddenly filled with the sensation that someone was in the room with us. But it was still shut. I noticed the bolt wasn't locked, but couldn't remember if I had pushed it or not. Then I realized the bump must have been my magic working. A smile spread across my face. "That sound. It was my magic wasn't it?"

  "Can we go now?"

  "There was a noise."

  "It was my stomach growling."

  "You heard it and now you're just lying."

  "It was just the party. See?" Anastasia pointed out the window. When we looked out, I saw Papa dancing with some girl I didn't recognize. I remembered why I had come to talk to Ani again and felt selfish for getting distracted. Evan Burl was in danger. I didn't have time to be arguing with my sister about magic.

  I looked up at the house, at a point where the walls jutted out from the main face. I thought I saw a shadow move across a window, then curtains move. A servant maybe?

  "Who's she?" Anastasia asked, still looking at the woman Papa was dancing with. I could hear the hurt in her voice. Everyone knew our parents had been fighting, but I wasn't thinking about the dancing. I was thinking about that shadow in the window. All the servants were out helping with the party. Who could that have been?

  "I guess Mother isn't good enough," Anastasia said.

  "Papa has to dance with some of the guests," I said, though I wasn't really listening to her. "It's his duty." I started ticking off servant's names in my head, Duckie? Wynnson? Geoff? The man with the twisted beard? No, I had seen all of them out in the courtyard with the guests.

  We stared for another moment, Ani at the guests dancing and me at the window, looking for the shadow again.

  Then I saw it, getting closer, just a few rooms over from Anastasia's bed chamber. Not a shadow this time. Eyes. Huge quarter-moon slivers, reflecting the countless party lights below. They were looking right at me. They blinked, moved to the right slightly, and then were gone again.

  "Did you see that?" I asked, grabbing Ani's shoulder and stepping up close behind her.

  "What?"

  "Eyes. In the window. Right over there."

  "Do you ever get tired of making up stupid stories?"

  "I'm not making it up. I saw them."

  "Dozens of servants work in this house everyday and you're trying to scare me by saying you saw eyes in the window?"

  "They weren't normal..." My voice trailed off and I sniffed at the air. "Hey... do you smell that?"

  "What?"

  "I think I smell something burning."

  "You mean those?" Anastasia said with a sneer. She pointed at the thousands of candles burning below them.

  "No I mean, like, something else." I sniffed again. Anastasia sniffed too.

  "Hmm. I guess I do smell something..." Anastasia admitted after a moment, obviously not pleased I had been right.

  We leaned out the window to see if we could see what could be causing the smoke. I was about to pull back when I saw the shadow again. It was outside the house, on the ledge. It jumped from one level, down to the balcony below. It was huge and moved fast, never stepping into the light enough to be seen. The shadow disappeared through double-doors which led to the interior balcony where I had hid listening to my parents argue.

  I remembered the knife on the desk at the bottom of the stairs. Papa once told me the knife was the only thing in the world that could hurt him. I thought he was just making it up to help me feel better about him leaving, but what if he was telling the truth? And he had left it behind, right where the shadow could find it.

  I had to tell Papa before—

  Wait a minute. Why would I tell Papa? He was scary. He was a murderer. Should I be trying to protect him?

  I pulled back into the room, unsure of what I should do. It was getting really hot and..., I listened carefully..., there was crackling behind us. I turned around slowly and my heart began to pound like a galloping conemara. Unable to pull my eyes away, I felt behind me and tugged on Anastasia's dress.

  "What?" She snapped.

  "Look."

  Anastasia turned around and I glanced at her face. Her jaw dropped.

  The bed was on fire.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Evan

  Thursday

  9:55 pm

  24 hours, 54 minutes until the Falling

  Forty foot tall walls of black iron and glass rose up on all sides. We were in the greenhouses. I imagined the buildings must have been beautiful at one point, five of them all in a row like glass soldiers. Years ago, they were filled with bananas and açaí berries and avocados and coconuts. My mouth always watered at the thought, though Henri wished we could have grown orchids in the greenhouses if they were still used. Purple orchids were her favorite flower.

  Most of the glass walls and ceiling had been broken long ago from the deadly typhoons that came each fall. The glass was thin and brittle in the greenhouses and didn't hold up as well over the years as the castle's thick windows. Tonight it was raining hard and because of the broken ceiling, we were both soaked. Thankfully, the little lamp Henri was carrying hadn't burned out yet. It was getting really low though. She shielded it from the rain with her hands as we made our way through the greenhouses.

  The place was filled with cobwebs, molding wood shelves, thousands of empty clay pots, and a small jungle of plants that had grown up from seeds blown over the castle walls. None of them had fruit, so in my opinion they were about as useful as whistling.

  It was hard to walk through the undergrowth, especially when I was occupied with keeping webs out of my face. But at least there were no bugs buzzing around; that was one good thing about the rain. I was watching where I put my feet when I glanced up to see a hairy tarantula the size of my face feeding on a mole caught in its web inches from my nose. I backed up carefully and stuck my foot ankle deep in a muddy puddle. After finding my way around the spider's giant web, I spotted what I was looking for.

  The door to a small garden shed had long ago fallen half off; inside was a rack of old tools I used sometimes when I was working in the gardens. The candle didn't give off enough light to see inside so I reached in and felt around. I wondered if something might be inside the shed, somewhere in the back watching me, but I shook the feeling off. After a few moments, my hand felt the round handle I needed.

  It was rotted out in parts, but seemed to be stout enough for what I had in mind. Henri stopped short with a worried look on her face when she saw the shovel in my hand.

  "What's that for?"


  I still didn't know how to tell her. I had hoped by know she would have figured it out on her own by now. I pushed the shovel into the ground, pulled a scoop of soil, and showed it to her.

  "Digging," I said, trying to sound light hearted, but realizing I should have thought better using the shovel—the bite on my arm seared with pain. How was I ever going to get through the night?

  "Yeah, I know," she said. "What exactly are you planning on digging?"

  I stalled, trying to think of something intelligent to say. I glanced through the greenhouse's broken glass wall in the direction of the balizia tree where the fallings were buried. The graveyard was a quarter mile away, but Henri finally connected the dots.

  "You're not serious," she said.

  I didn't say anything. What good would it have done? She must have known. Where else would they keep a girl who was supposed to be dead? I stepped under a section of roof that was mostly intact to get out of the rain. When I turned, Henri was right behind me. Her lips formed a fine line.

  She shoved my shoulder. "You promised me you wouldn't do anything stupid to get yourself in trouble."

  "This isn't stupid."

  "This is the definition of stupid. I can't think of anything more stupid." Tiny beads of water pooled on her glasses, sliding down when they grew too heavy to cling to the glass any longer.

  "I could probably think of something." I must have sounded dense as dirt.

  "We are not doing this!"

  "Where did you think they'd hidden her? In the pantry with a barrel of sugar?"

  She tried to grab the shovel from me and I held it away from her. I cursed myself for getting her involved, but I couldn't do it without her, not with my leg. My control over sapience wasn't nearly refined enough to do the digging on my own—I could end up tearing Pearl into pieces.

  "I tried to tell you," I said.

  "That you're crazy?"

  "That this is important," I said.

  "It just doesn't make any sense," she said as she scratched her neck.

  "Burying someone who's supposed to be dead?"

  "Mazol killing them off."

  "We're talking about my uncle right?"