She looked at him as if he had just asked something intensely stupid. “Of course it is.”
“Ah,” said Shark, “just when I thought things couldn’t actually get freakier.”
“Where exactly are we going?” asked Shark. “I mean, if this Gadfellyn Hall kid is dead, are we supposed to go to a cemetery and dig up his bones? And if so, then what?”
“Don’t be absurd.”
“I’m not,” he said defensively. “I’m just trying to understand the rules here.”
Evangelyne thought about that, then nodded. “Fair enough. The boy known as the Heir lived in a mansion—”
“Gadfellyn Hall, got that,” said Shark. “Is this an actual place? One we can touch?”
“It hides behind a real place. Or maybe it haunts a real place. I’m not sure how to explain it. We can find where it was. I saw it once. There is an old antiques store there now, and that is very real. Bricks and stone and glass, if the Bugs haven’t destroyed it.”
Shark blew out his cheeks. “That’s something.”
“Where is it?” asked Milo, excited.
She gestured toward the water. “Over there. In New Orleans.”
Shark winced. “In New Orleans?”
“Yes.”
“The, um, same New Orleans where the Bugs have a hive ship?”
“Yes.”
“The hive ship that we nearly wrecked? The one we stole the crystal egg from?”
She raised her chin. “Yes.”
“In a city crawling with about a million shocktroopers?”
“Yes,” she said once more. “Why so many stupid questions? Are you afraid?”
“Oh, I’m way past afraid. I’m all the way over into epic terror,” said Shark. “Want to know why? Because I’m not stupid. Oh, and because I’m not actually out of my mind.”
“Like I said, you don’t have to come.”
Shark actually laughed. “Ha! Nice try, but I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
Milo didn’t look at him, worried he’d see the wild look in his friend’s eyes. He wondered if it was in his own. He closed his eyes and rubbed them, then yawned so wide his jaws creaked.
“God, is this still the same day?”
Shark nodded. “And it ain’t over yet.”
“I’m so tired I could sleep forever.” He yawned again. His whole body felt heavy and there was a weird little fluttering feeling inside his chest. Too much adrenaline, too much exertion and fear, not enough rest. Milo knew that he was in absolutely no condition to set out on any kind of journey. Not a hunt, not a rescue mission, not some kind of bizarre heroic quest to find a magic mansion in a city dominated by creatures who wanted to kill him. He could feel Shark and Killer watching him.
He said, “Let’s get moving.”
FROM MILO’S DREAM DIARY
Writing down the story that I dreamed . . .
The boy read every book in the library. Every single one.
And then he read them all again.
When he was done, he went looking for more books. A white rabbit hopped out of the shadows, and the boy followed it through a doorway behind a doorway that was behind another doorway. And there, beyond that, were more books.
So many more.
Too many to count.
But not too many to read.
No, not too many for him to read. After all, he had all the time in the world.
Chapter 36
Getting from St. Tammany Wildlife Refuge to New Orleans meant going halfway around Lake Pontchartrain. Without a skimmer or the red ship, and with the causeway, Route 11, and Interstate 10 bridges long since destroyed, they were looking at a hike of fifty-five miles. If they pushed on without a break, it would be a minimum of eighteen hours.
That was best-case scenario, and Milo knew better than to plan around things going smoothly. The reality, given what was happening in their lives, was something else entirely. Moving with caution, avoiding Bugs and their hunter-killers, steering clear of well-known Dissosterin patrol zones, and keeping to the cover of the woods and overgrown places would stretch the journey. Milo did the math in his head and predicted that it would take them at least two full days, allowing for a few three-hour breaks for catnaps and food. And the circuitous route would be closer to eighty miles.
He shared this with Shark and Evangelyne, who nodded fatalistically, accepting the hard truth as their only truth.
Two miles into their walk they encountered Mook. The rock boy simply stepped out of the shadows and fell into step with them as if this were all normal. Shark and Milo exchanged a look, shrugged, and kept walking.
They’d covered only four miles before Shark said, “Look, guys, I’m all for plowing ahead and getting as far as we can, but I got to tell you—I’m beat. This has been an insane day. I think we should find a dry spot, eat something, get some sleep, and then start out bright and early.”
Evangelyne clearly wanted to argue, but she’d been limping heavily and lagging behind, so she made a sour face and nodded. “Very well. But once we start out tomorrow, we push on as far and fast as we can.”
“Absolutely,” said Shark, in a way that Milo interpreted as “We’ll see how that works.”
They found a safe spot, shared dried meat and water. Mook moved off into the darkest shadows to stand guard while Milo brought Shark up to speed on everything that had happened that morning: Queen Mab and her dark faeries, the toadstool ring, and the Huntsman’s experimenting with magic. Shark listened in open-mouthed horror and frequently cut looks at Evangelyne, who nodded to indicate Milo was telling the truth.
Finally Shark cut him off. “No, wait, wait . . . you said this was a circle of mushrooms? On that path you took this morning? Oh, man . . . oh, man . . .” Shark’s face had gone milk white.
“What is it?” demanded Evangelyne.
“What’s wrong?” asked Milo, suddenly very alarmed.
“Lizzie!” said Shark.
“What about her?”
“That’s where I found her.”
“What are you talking about?”
Shark was blinking rapidly as if he’d been punched. “This morning, I told you she went off into the woods and I found her.”
“Sure,” agreed Milo, “you said she walked into a tree.”
“That’s what she said, but that’s not what I mean. It’s where I found her. She was in a clearing, totally unconscious, lying inside a circle of mushrooms.”
Evangelyne grabbed his arm with both hands. Her eyes were wild. “What? What did you say?”
“It’s the truth. That’s where I found her.”
“Where? How? Tell me everything.”
Shark looked scared. “There’s not a lot to tell. I was checking the woods and I saw Lizzie lying beside some of that junk the Bugs dropped and—”
“Which junk?” interrupted Milo.
“The food cart. You must have passed it when you went down to the bayou.”
The image of the cart with its demand written in bloodred letters was vivid in Milo’s mind.
“Lizzie was there?” he asked weakly.
“Near there, sure. I saw her and at first I thought she was crawling around to try to scavenge something, but then I realized she wasn’t moving. I ran over and checked her. She woke up, but she was really out of it and said she must have walked into a tree. She had some bruises on her face and her clothes were all messed up, but she didn’t look really hurt. Not hurt hurt, you know? Just dazed.”
“What about the toadstools?” urged Evangelyne.
“I didn’t notice them at first,” explained Shark. “I was focused on Lizzie, you know? It was only after I helped her up that I saw there were a bunch of them growing in a circle. A pretty regular circle, which is kind of weird.”
“Tell me about how you felt,” snapped Evangelyne. “What did you feel?”
“Was the air really cold?” asked Milo. “Like it was around the pyramid we found? The one the Heart of Darkness was in?”
“Was she entirely inside the circle?” asked Evangelyne.
Shark had to think about that. “Not really. Only her legs. The rest of her was outside on the grass. A couple of the mushrooms were smashed like maybe she’d kicked them. Now, come on, Vangie, what’s all this mean? Did something happen? Is that why Lizzie’s been acting so freaky?”
Evangelyne looked very worried. “Where was this? Exactly, I mean?”
Shark dug a laminated map from a belt pouch and spread it out on the ground. Then he shifted out of the way to allow the bright moonlight to fall on it. Shark and Milo both pointed to the same spot.
“Right there,” said Milo.
“Yup,” said Shark.
“Goddess of Shadows,” breathed Evangelyne. “That is the grove of the shrine.”
“What grove of which shrine?” demanded Shark.
“I already told you,” she said hollowly. “A thousand years ago there was a medicine woman of great power and knowledge. These swamps and forests were hers, and it is said that she wielded incredible powers. Her magicks ran very deep and strange.”
Shark snapped his fingers. “You mentioned her earlier, didn’t you? The sweet and salty girl? Something like that?”
“The Daughter of Splinters and Salt,” corrected Evangelyne sternly. “And be careful, boy. Mock her at your peril.”
“Why? I thought she was dead.”
“She is.”
“But maybe roaming around the woods and helping us out? Doesn’t sound too evil to me.”
“Evil?” Evangelyne shook her head, then shrugged. “Actually, I’m not sure. I really don’t know much about her other than some old stories from the Chitimacha native peoples who my aunts were friends with. People around here feared her, I can tell you that, but they also honored her with offerings. They built a shrine to her.”
“The mushrooms?” asked Shark, confused.
“No. The clearing itself is her shrine.”
“It doesn’t look like a shrine,” said Milo. “It’s just a clearing.”
“To some people,” said Evangelyne, “anything can be sacred. A hill, a tree, a mountain. You don’t need to build a temple out of stone to honor the great mysteries. All that is required for a place to be holy is that people believe it to be.”
“So this clearing is a shrine,” said Shark. “Got it. Weird, but whatever. What does that have to do with a ring of mushrooms? Five minutes ago you guys were telling me about some bizarro faerie queen and Milo seeing the Huntsman. Now we have Native American witches. Should I be taking notes or something? Is there going to be a test?”
Evangelyne gave Shark a tolerant and almost apologetic smile. “Let me explain something to you boys.”
“Stop calling us boys,” said Milo tiredly.
She continued without commenting on that. “Before we met . . . no, actually before you two found the pyramid, the world of shadows was beyond you. It was always around you, and it was all around you. As it always is and always was, but it was hidden. Not exactly invisible, but your eyes could not see it because you were not looking for it. Your world and mine are not really the same. We Nightsiders are able to see more of the shadow world than you, just as you can probably see more of the Daylighter world than we can. Think about the ant and the hawk.”
“Huh?” grunted both boys.
“An ant and a hawk may live in the same forest, but are they really part of the same world? They never interact. The ant lives on the ground and does what it does, living out its span without knowing or caring if the hawk exists. It may never even be aware that such a thing as a hawk exists at all, because the hawk’s existence isn’t any part of the ant’s life. The same can be said of the hawk. It has its life, others of its kind, its enemies, its prey, its places of rest, its hunting grounds, and even though it has keen sight, it is never looking at the ant. The ant is not part of its experience.”
“Oh,” said Shark.
“Yeah,” agreed Milo. “So magical stuff’s always been around but not in any way that we’d run into? Or see? Is that pretty much it?”
“Well . . . yes, I suppose,” agreed Evangelyne. “It wasn’t always like this, though. The Nightsiders and Daylighters shared the world at times, even peacefully in places. But mostly both species fought and hunted each other. And killed each other. Then . . . as your kind built cities and moved away from the natural world, the Nightsiders started looking the other way. Niether side needed to see each other, and eventually both sides hardly needed to believe in each other. The Daughter of Splinters and Salt lived in these forests five hundred years before Europeans came here to conquer what they called the New World. Perhaps the native peoples who once lived here had memories of her, but they’re gone now. Gone, and with them any human memory of the shrine and of the one it was made to honor.”
“Again I ask,” said Shark, “what’s this have to do with cranky faeries and the Huntsman?”
“I don’t know,” confessed Evangelyne. “It can’t just be a coincidence that Queen Mab grew her toadstool ring at that spot.”
“My mom says not to believe too much in coincidences,” said Milo.
“Your mother is wise,” said Evangelyne. She thought about it in silence for a while. The boys exchanged nervous looks, and the darkened forest seemed to loom huge and black and threatening around them.
Milo broke the silence. “This Daughter of Splinters and Salt was some kind of witch, right?”
“Yes.”
“Was she a good witch or a bad one?”
“I told you I don’t know. Besides, good and evil, right and wrong, what does it matter?” mused the wolf girl. “Those concepts don’t apply to everything, Milo. Why even ask?”
“Kind of for the obvious reason,” said Shark, jumping in. “If she was a bad witch, then maybe this Queen Mab weirdo is tapping into her negative mojo. If that makes any sense . . .”
“Ah,” Evangelyne said, then shook her head. “I don’t know the whole story of the Daughter, but I can’t believe she would willingly help someone who wanted to destroy the world.”
“Does she even have a choice?” asked Milo. “Couldn’t the Aes Sídhe just kind of hijack the energy of her shrine? Does it work like that?”
From the expression on Evangelyne’s face, he knew that his question had hit the bull’s-eye. “That’s not as stupid a question as you might think,” she said.
“Thanks,” mumbled Milo. “I think.”
“Any place as important as the shrine of the Daughter of Splinters and Salt would have been drenched with magical energy. This energy would have soaked into the ground and infused everything within a certain range. Even now, even with the Heart of Darkness removed from it, the area around the pyramid has power.”
“We felt it,” said Milo, and Shark grunted agreement.
“Queen Mab may have chosen the Daughter’s shrine for exactly the purpose of amplifying her own magic.”
“That makes sense, I guess,” said Milo. “If she was trying to control the Huntsman, she’d pretty much have to go nuclear with her magic.”
“More or less,” said Evangelyne, nodding.
“Okay,” Shark said, “I’m starting to see how this works. But it doesn’t explain anything about what happened to Lizzie. Queen Mab tried to sacrifice Milo, too, right?”
“Possibly,” said the wolf girl. “The more I think about it, the more I believe that she was giving him to the Huntsman as a gift of trust.”
“A what?”
“In magical bargains there is an exchange of gifts. Things of great value, but not like gold or jewels. Power items. Things that help the other person but also show that you trust them. Look at it like this: If two soldiers from different countries wanted to join up to fight an enemy they both hated, they might shares supplies or even weapons. That would show each of them that they were in it together. Do you get it?”
“I do now,” said Shark, “but it’s creeping me out. Milo was a gift bag for the Huntsman?”
She gave him a blank look, clearly not understanding the reference.
“Ignore him,” Milo said to her. “But tell me this: If the Huntsman materialized inside the faerie circle, wouldn’t he be trapped too?”
“No, it wasn’t that kind of thing. I believe it was only his aspect you saw, not his actual physical body. It was like one of those holo-things. . . .”
“Hologram,” supplied Shark.
“Yes. They were conjuring his aspect so that the queen could share energy with him, and so that he could receive her gift. His real body is wherever he was, probably in a conjuring circle of his own. It would be in a place where he would be heavily protected. But enough of his essence would exist within the queen’s circle so that he could take possession of the gift. And, before you ask, it would be actually physical possession. If you had stepped inside the Aes Sídhe circle, then the magic would have sent you to the Huntsman. You would have been his.”
“Like a teleport,” said Shark.
Again, Evangelyne didn’t get the reference. Milo explained and she nodded.
“Wait a sec,” said Milo. “When we first met, you made some crack about real names and how you Nightsiders could conjure with them.”
“So?” she asked. “What of it?”
“Does someone need a real name to do that whole conjuring thing?”
“Of course but . . . oh, I see your point.”
“I don’t,” said Shark.
“If Queen Mab was trying to conjure the Huntsman, in flesh or in aspect, she would have to know his real name.”
“So?” asked Shark and Milo both.
“Well, if she had discovered it through some magical means and was conjuring him to be her slave, that would be one thing. Bad, but not the worst that could happen. The Huntsman as a slave would be less fearsome.”
“Still not following. Less fearsome than what?”
“The Huntsman as an ally,” she said. “The other alternative is that he told her his name, so that she could not only summon him but cast spells that would give him powers without her turning him into a slave. It means that they would have to trust each other, and that they would be truly working together.”
Vault of Shadows Page 18
