Vault of Shadows

by Jonathan Maberry

  “What about the others?” Milo asked tentatively. “One of my friends, a girl, broke her legs and—”

  “Really? That wasn’t in the report. Must not have been too bad.”

  Or, thought Milo, Evangelyne wasn’t there at all.

  He hoped she had awakened enough to transform so that she could use the healing powers—however they worked—that were part of being a werewolf.

  The other alternative was a lot scarier. Maybe she’d been so bad that Mook had simply taken her away. He had no idea what the death customs were for the Nightsiders. If she died, would Evangelyne’s grave be a small mound in the forest marked by a simple rock? Or something equally sad?

  It was a wretched thought.

  Suddenly, as something rustled in the woods off to their left, everyone froze and a gun seemed to magically appear in the hands of each soldier. Milo was surprised to see that the big sergeant held the alien pulse pistol in a two-hand shooter’s grip.

  The woods grew still around them, the darkness of late twilight fading everything into a purple gloom that blurred all outlines into meaningless blobs.

  Careful to make no sound, Milo drew his slingshot and fitted a ball bearing into the pad. The metal ball felt heavy and dangerous, and he raised the weapon, ready to hit back at the Bugs with a piece of their own murderous tech.

  The sound had come from directly in front of where he stood, maybe twenty feet into the woods. They all crouched, ready to fire, ready to flee.

  Then, gradually, Sergeant Ramirez relaxed and straightened. He lowered his pistol and the others slowly did the same.

  “Must have been a squirrel or a coon,” said one of the soldiers.

  “Maybe a possum,” said someone else.

  They all kept careful eyes on the woods for a while, before deciding that it truly was nothing. If it had been a hunter-killer or a Stinger, there would be no doubt by now. Even a shocktrooper scout would have fired on them, confident in its greater power and weapons.

  However, Milo thought he caught the slightest hint of a tree moving the wrong way, and had a momentary image of a face made not of flesh but of wood, leaves, and acorns.

  Oakenayl?

  Could it be the wood boy? If so, how could he have gotten all the way over here? Milo knew that the wood spirit could shed his body and make a new one from any living tree, but did that also mean that between inhabiting construct bodies he could fly like the wind?

  Somehow Milo didn’t think so, because surely one of the Nightsiders would have mentioned that.

  So whose leafy face had he glimpsed in the deep, dark woods?

  Or had he seen anything at all?

  “These woods are getting weird,” muttered Ramirez.

  “You have no idea,” said Milo, but he didn’t say it loud enough to be heard.

  Chapter 31

  They reached the lakeshore just as a gibbous moon was breaking through the ceiling of clouds. The nearly full moon painted everything with a cold blue light, and Ramirez’s team made sure to stick to the shadows. When they were still fifty feet from the lake, Milo cupped his hands around his mouth and made a sound like a barred owl, one of the night birds common to bayou country.

  A few seconds later another owl called in reply.

  “That’s Shark,” said Milo, and he went out to meet his friend.

  Shark and Killer were the only members of Milo’s camp left on the beach, and they had been hiding beneath a tree with a female soldier. The soldier took Ramirez aside to give her report and Shark did the same with Milo.

  “I can’t believe you found help this fast,” said Shark, greatly relieved.

  “Everyone got out okay?”

  “The skimmer just left with the last of the wounded,” he said. “I said I’d wait here with the corporal.”

  Milo lowered his voice. “What about our friends?” He leaned on the word.

  “Been some really, really, really freaky stuff happening here,” said Shark. He launched into a quick, quiet explanation of what had taken place. First Lizabeth had found more herbs and roots and applied them to Evangelyne’s broken bones. That seemed to ease the wolf girl’s pain, and soon she woke up.

  “What happened to her?” asked Milo.

  Shark looked like he’d been kicked very solidly in the head. “That’s just it. . . . She woke up, then she told Mook to take her into the woods. He did, and half an hour later I saw a wolf limping through the marsh weeds.”

  “You sure that was her?”

  “No, it was probably a completely different limping wolf.”

  “Right, sorry.”

  “But listen, man . . . I think something bad happened.”

  “What do you mean? Everything that’s happened today’s been bad.”

  “Not that kind of bad,” said Shark. “Look . . . after I saw the, um, wolf . . .”

  “She’s a werewolf, man, just call her that.”

  “Not actually sure I can,” said Shark. “That word absolutely does not fit inside my head. But listen, after Mook took her and she changed, after I saw her limping in the marsh, I heard something.”

  “What? A Stinger or a—?”

  “No, no, it was her. It was Vangie. I heard her scream.”

  “Well, she was pretty messed up, Shark.”

  “You’re not listening to me,” insisted Shark, who was clearly having a hard time explaining. “This was after she was mostly healed. I heard her screaming in the woods. Not like a wolf, but in her own voice. Screaming and yelling. And not like she was in pain, and I don’t think it was anything to do with the Bugs.”

  “Then what?”

  “I couldn’t hear everything she said, but I’m pretty sure I heard her say something bad. About something that really scared her, because that’s the kind of scream it was. Like someone who’s really, really, really, really scared out of their mind.”

  “What did she say?” whispered Milo, grabbing Shark’s arm.

  He could see his friend’s face by the moonlight and Shark looked really scared too.

  “I’m pretty sure I heard her say that it was broken.”

  “Broken? What was broken?”

  “That black stone,” said Shark quietly. “She said, ‘The Heart is broken.’ And then after that, all she did was scream.”

  FROM MILO’S DREAM DIARY

  Writing down the story that I dreamed . . .

  The boy built a fire in the cold hearth, and its glow was warm and kind. He found a blanket folded neatly over the back of a sofa, and he shook the moths and spider eggs from it and took it to the chair closest to the fire.

  The boy spent quite a lot of time wandering up and down the aisles of the library selecting books he wanted to read, and he brought them back to his seat near the warm fireplace. There were books of adventure in which someone very like him went to a strange school where he learned how to use magic. There were books in which children like him walked through closets and found themselves in magical lands. There were books about a girl who rode a whirlwind to a land of witches and flying monkeys, and books about falling down a rabbit hole or stepping through a mirror. There were books about being lost on islands where pirates buried their treasure, and about being lost in the woods with only a hatchet. There were books about spaceships and alien worlds. Books about vampires and ghosts and humans built from parts of dead people. There were books about kids who solved crimes and kids who lived in boxcars. And so, so many others.

  There were other books, though. Books that he knew had not been written for eyes as young as his. Books about medicine and books about healing—which he discovered were not always the same thing. Books about law and crime, which were sometimes the same. Books about right and wrong, about good and evil, and sometimes one page contradicted another. There were books about heroes and villains, and sometimes it was hard for the boy to tell one from the other.

  He read and read and read.

  He read everything he could.

  Hours passed while the boy sa
t and read.

  Or maybe it was days.

  Or maybe it was years.

  Part Three

  MILO AND THE HEIR OF GADFELLYN HALL

  “All that we see or seem

  Is but a dream within a dream.”

  —EDGAR ALLAN POE

  Chapter 32

  As soon as Shark told him what he had heard Evangelyne saying, Milo instantly knew it was true. Horribly, frighteningly, terribly true.

  The Heart of Darkness was broken.

  He could feel his own heart beating the wrong way, and for a minute he closed his eyes to listen, to feel.

  The beat was still there, but it was changing. Skipping every now and then. And slowing.

  No.

  That was wrong.

  It wasn’t slowing . . . it was emptying.

  It was then that he heard a familiar whisper in the very back of his mind. The whisper of an ancient woman who seemed to speak in a voice of dust.

  Milo Silk, whispered the Witch of the World, my heart is broken. The world is broken.

  “No,” breathed Milo aloud.

  “Hey,” said Shark, “I’m pretty sure that’s what she said.”

  Milo ignored him. He tried to search among the swirling shadows inside his head for the witch.

  “Where have you been?” he demanded, angry and desperate.

  “What—?” asked Shark, but Milo shushed him and stepped aside, touching his head with his fingertips.

  “You stopped talking for so long,” said Milo. “Why’d you leave me? I needed you.”

  Milo, child of the sun, said the witch in a faint voice as if she were very, very far away, there is not much time and you must listen.

  “I’m listening, I’m always listening. Tell me what to do.”

  Milo was aware that Shark was staring at him like he’d gone crazy. Even though Milo had told Shark about the Witch of the World, his friend had never been with him when the witch spoke. Shark had to feel like Milo did when he’d tried to eavesdrop on Sergeant Ramirez’s call—only much stranger.

  When the witch spoke once more in Milo’s head, her voice was so faint he could hardly hear her. And with a chill, he realized that she was not far away . . . but that her voice was weak.

  Very weak.

  Fading, or perhaps . . .

  Milo did not have the courage to finish that thought. Instead he closed his eyes to concentrate on the fragile voice.

  You must find Evangelyne Winter, said the whispery voice of the witch. You must tell her that the only hope lies with the Heir of Gadfellyn Hall.

  Milo gasped. “What? I dream about that place. Have you . . . have you been giving me those dreams?”

  The witch did not answer directly, saying, Not all secrets have been lost. You and your friends must find the Impossible Library.

  “Wait . . . the what—?”

  Milo, listen to me. The answers are there if the Heir will help you. You and he share a love of books. That will matter, Milo. Believe me, that will matter.

  “But who is he?”

  He isn’t anyone anymore.

  “I don’t understand.”

  Shark was looking at him with increasing alarm.

  It was a while before the witch spoke again.

  Beware the Huntsman, she said weakly. He is tireless. His hatred and hunger never sleep. He is changing, Milo. He is getting stronger and I am getting weaker. Keep hidden what you stole. Keep safe what he wants.

  “Should I give the crystal egg to the soldiers and—”

  No, Milo. If you give it to anyone else, then all is lost. You have taken it and you are responsible for it. Keep it safe.

  “And do what with it?”

  When the time comes, you will know.

  “Oh, come on . . . can’t you be a little more helpful than that?”

  The future is in motion, Milo. Little is clear except what I have said . . . though I am losing my sight, child of the sun.

  “What? Why?”

  I am wounded, said the witch. I am dying.

  Milo was stunned. “No . . . no . . . you can’t die!”

  Shark gaped at him, but held his tongue.

  Every living thing can die, Milo, said the witch in a voice that was barely there. Some live out the fullness of their years, while others are taken before their time. The Huntsman and the Swarm have cut me to the very bone.

  “No! I won’t let them. I’ll stop them. Just tell me what to do.”

  Find your friends, Milo. Look for the Heir. He is in the Impossible Library. He will offer you your heart’s desire. But be careful what you wish for. Oh, be very careful indeed.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Time is burning like a fuse, Milo Silk. You must hurry . . . hurry . . . hurry. . . .

  That last word echoed and then faded into nothing, leaving his head filled only with his own confused and frightened thoughts.

  Chapter 33

  “What,” said Shark, “was that all about?”

  Milo held up a hand, needing a minute to try to remember exactly what the witch had told him. He was sure that every detail, even the ones that made no sense, was important. Understanding things takes time. Knowledge often needs to be planted in the mind and given time to sprout roots and grow. Milo knew that for sure.

  So Milo told Shark about his conversation with the witch. That also meant explaining about the Heir of Gadfellyn Hall.

  “We need to find Evangelyne right now.”

  “Dude, we’re about to be evacuated to a safe zone. The soldiers—”

  “Don’t understand what’s really going on.”

  “Then we need to tell them.”

  Milo shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Think about it, man, you’re having a hard time dealing with this and you saw it firsthand. You want to tell me that a bunch of soldiers are going to just suddenly believe in werewolves and sprites because a couple of kids say they’re real?”

  “Well, when you put it like that . . . ,” said Shark slowly.

  “Besides, the witch told me to keep this all secret. She said that I shouldn’t give the crystal egg to anyone.”

  “Did she say why?”

  “Not really. She just kind of hinted that it would be bad.”

  Shark made a face. “You know, I’ve read a lot of stories about magic and wizards and quests—Percy Jackson and Frodo and Harry Potter and all that—and it seems to me that if spooky characters would just come right out and say what’s going on, life would be a lot easier for everyone. There ought to be a rule that no one’s allowed to be vague.”

  “I don’t think she was being vague on purpose,” said Milo. “She’s hurt.”

  “Hurt?”

  “Yeah. Maybe dying. And she was scared, Shark. Really scared.”

  Shark took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “So . . . what do we do to help her?”

  Milo chewed his lip in indecision. “I need you to cover for me. I’ve got to find Evangelyne and the other Nightsiders. If she’s feeling better, then we need to go find this ‘heir’ and see how he can help.”

  “Help how? Did she say anything about fixing the Heart thingie?”

  “Not straight out, but I’m pretty sure that’s what she meant.”

  “So,” said Shark, eyeing him suspiciously, “what do you mean about me ‘covering’ for you?”

  “When Sergeant Ramirez asks where I went, point in the other direction and—”

  Shark punched him on the arm. Hard.

  “Ow! Hey, what was that for?” cried Milo.

  Shark bent forward and jabbed Milo on the chest with a stiff index finger. “For trying to ditch me, bonehead. You think I’m going to let you go running off into the woods without me? If so, you’re nuts.”

  “This isn’t about you, Shark. This is something I have to do and—”

  Shark punched him again.

  “Ow! Stop hitting me.”

  “I’ll knock some sense into you if you don’t stop with that
junk. We have to find Evangelyne and we have to find that Hairy Gadfluey kid and we have to help save the world because we both live here.”

  Milo rubbed the sore spot on his arm. “It’s the ‘Heir of Gadfellyn Hall,’” he mumbled.

  “I don’t care if it’s a Hair on Killer’s Butt. We do it together or I’ll rat you out to Sergeant Ramirez.”

  As if in agreement—or perhaps because his name had been mentioned—Killer began enthusiastically wagging his tail. Milo wanted to argue, but Shark could be very stubborn when he thought he was right.

  “Okay, okay,” Milo said reluctantly. “But if you get eaten by a Stinger, it’s not my fault.”

  Shark, despite the harsh realities of what they were about to do and all the countless dangers built into it, grinned like they were about to split a big slice of chocolate cake.

  “Hey,” said Milo, suddenly looking around, “where’s Lizzie? Did she go with Barnaby?”

  “I . . . think so?” It came out as a question. “They took everyone else away. I told them I wanted to stay here until you came back, but . . . I guess Lizzie left.”

  Milo nodded, but Shark’s uncertainty about Lizabeth made him feel vaguely uneasy. Lizabeth had become so strange—far stranger than normal—since this morning. Milo was really worried about her.

  They glanced about. The soldiers were busily removing all traces of the impromptu camp Shark and the others had made. They moved with silent efficiency, their eyes watchful, guns ready. Sergeant Ramirez came striding past, glanced at them, walked on, stopped, and came back. “Listen, kids, here’s the plan. The skimmer’s coming back and will take you two to join your friends. If you have any gear around, grab it and be ready to move out. There’s a big cypress over there, see it? Leaning out over the water. Go wait there out of sight. The skimmer will pull in there. You guys will get on it. Understood?”

  “Sure,” said Milo.

  “Absolutely,” said Shark.

  “Good. It’s been a rough week for you boys. Now you get to go somewhere safe. We even have a generator and DVDs. Got a whole bunch of old superhero movies, if you know what they are. Superman, Avengers, like that.”