In the Shadows

by Kiersten White

  backing her into the wall. “I didn’t ask for your mother, did I?

  You’re a bright girl, Cora. Don’t play at being dense.”

  Alden was grabbed from behind and shoved roughly away.

  Cora realized with a gasping relief that the piano music had

  stopped. Thomas moved in front of her, shielding her.

  “Leave her alone,” he said, his normally mellow voice a growl.

  Alden seemed unperturbed. “Perhaps you are the one to talk

  to about the disturbance to my personal property.”

  Thomas didn’t so much as flinch. “Perhaps I am. Whatever

  you and your friends think you can do to my family, you’re wrong.

  I won’t stand for it.”

  A note of glee entered Alden’s voice. “You won’t! How wonder-

  ful. But what do you know, really? Perhaps you found some words

  you don’t understand. Or . . . a list of names.”

  “Whatever business you have with my father, you leave Charles

  and me out of it. If you so much as look at us the wrong way — and

  that includes Cora — I’ll go straight to the police chief with a

  story so horrible he’ll lock you up on the spot. And I promise my

  father’s lawyers will make certain it’s permanent.”

  “What are these threats for? We have no desire to harm you or

  your brother. Is that what has you so worked up?”

  “I saw the list. My father’s name, with sacrifice and blood debts.”

  Alden laughed. “This is why you need to ask questions before

  jumping to conclusions! You assumed the debt was your father’s.

  What if the debt is, in fact, mine? And my colleagues and I are

  working our hardest to come clear by helping your poor, sick

  brother?”

  Cora frowned, peering around Thomas’s shoulder. Alden’s

  face was wide, his expression open.

  “Doctors and medicine can do nothing, am I correct? Your

  brother is condemned to an early death. But there are things in

  this world that go beyond science, beyond the understanding of

  rational men. Your father knows about them. He helped us, once,

  and now begged us to do the same. That’s why he sent you here,

  where we are gathering.”

  “Why wouldn’t he have told us?” Thomas sounded unsure.

  “Because he didn’t want to get your hopes up if it didn’t work.

  He has his doubts, but he said he was willing to try anything.”

  “What . . . kinds of things can you do?”

  Alden pulled out his pocket watch, glancing at the time before

  clicking it shut. “These are not things for hallway conversations.

  Indeed, they are not things for conversations at all. You’ll need to

  see it, I think, to truly understand. Then you can decide whether

  or not you want us to help Charles. We would never force it on

  you. Meet me at the boathouse on the northern pier in thirty min-

  utes.” He glanced at Cora. “And come alone. The debt is for your

  family only, and I’m already betraying covenants by speaking so

  openly to you.”

  Tipping his hat to Cora and nodding to Thomas, Alden

  turned and left the hall, whistling softly.

  “What are you going to do?” Cora asked.

  Thomas turned toward her, leaning against the wall and rub-

  bing his face. “I don’t know. I thought — well, we could have been

  wrong all along. After all, none of them have threatened Charles

  or me directly. And my father sent us here on purpose. He would

  never send us somewhere we wouldn’t be safe. I wish I could just

  talk to him and get some answers, but he’s out of the country

  again.”

  “Are you going to meet Alden?”

  Thomas shrugged. “I don’t see what other option I have.”

  “You don’t really think he can help Charles, do you? Thomas,

  he frightens me. There’s something not right about him.”

  “There’s also something not right about my brother dying

  at fifteen. If there’s some way — any way — to help him, I’ll

  do it.” Thomas’s expression was intense, his voice heavy with

  emotion.

  “They won’t help him,” Arthur said, melting out of the shad-

  ows beneath the stairway. “There’s no help to be found with the

  Ladon Vitae.”

  “I’m sorry, since when are you the expert?”

  Arthur’s face darkened. “I know more than you.”

  “Well, you aren’t telling, now, are you? Alden said he’d give

  me answers. I’m going to get them.”

  “These people are more dangerous than you can begin to

  imagine.”

  “Then stop whining about it and come along and see what

  their game is.”

  “How do you know?” Cora said.

  Arthur froze, his eyes darting to her. “What?”

  She couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “How do you know how

  dangerous they are? What do you know, Arthur?” She wanted —

  needed — him to tell them the truth. How much did he know

  about what was in the case? Did he know more than what they

  found?

  And why wouldn’t he tell them, if it meant protecting people

  they cared about?

  He cleared his throat, seemed to shrink back on himself. She

  knew he would lie before he opened his mouth. “They followed

  Charles and Thomas here. Obviously they’re organized and ill-

  intentioned.”

  She gave him a tiny nod, not trusting herself to speak. So he

  would continue to hide the truth. It made it bother her less to

  manipulate him, then. “But we don’t know that for sure. If they

  could help Charles . . . And surely you don’t want Thomas to go

  alone, if it’s as dangerous as you seem to suspect.”

  Arthur’s shoulders dropped, a defeated expression pulling at

  his face. “I promised my mother I’d be careful.”

  “We’ll be careful,” Thomas said, impatiently inching toward

  the door. “Besides, it’s nothing to do with your mother.”

  Arthur stiffened and Cora went to him, taking his hand in

  hers. She wanted to give him another chance to be honest, to prove

  she was right to trust him. “My mother told Minnie. About your

  parents.”

  “You don’t know anything about them,” Arthur said softly,

  staring at the floor.

  She did, though. She knew all about his father, could tell what

  kind of man he was from the ink he bled over hundreds of pages.

  Obsessive. Determined. Utterly focused on something bigger than

  himself, to the ultimate destruction of his entire family.

  What had Arthur inherited from him?

  Finally Arthur looked up, a burning intensity in his eyes that

  frightened Cora. Suddenly he seemed so much more than quiet,

  hidden Arthur. He had never before struck her as . . . dangerous.

  “Well, come on, then. You want your answers so desperately. Let’s

  go get them.”

  Thomas’s cut of a smile matched Arthur’s expression. “All

  right. I have a couple of knives in my room. Cora, you stay here

  with Minnie and Charles. Keep together and don’t leave the

  boardinghouse.”

  She nodded and, fretting, watched them head up the stairs.

  The door to the piano room right next to her creaked open.

 
Minnie and Charles peered out. “Is the coast clear?” Minnie asked.

  Cora frowned. “Yes.”

  “Well, let’s go! If we want to beat them all and have enough

  time to hide in the boathouse, we’ll have to hurry!”

  She grabbed Cora’s hand, Charles on her other side, and ran out

  of the house. Cora wanted to protest, but couldn’t find it in herself.

  She wanted to know, needed to, even, whether there were things

  stronger and stranger in this life than what she saw every day. She

  couldn’t shake the feeling that the Ladon Vitae were more than

  just blackmailers and conspiracists. There were too many odd notes,

  too many images. If there really were other — supernatural —

  factors at play, perhaps then she’d have answers as to whether or

  not she really had contributed in some way to her father’s death.

  At the lane they saw Daniel going by with a horse and cart.

  “I’ll be too tired to keep up this pace the whole way,” Cora said,

  careful not to look at Charles so they could pretend it wasn’t

  about him.

  “Hey!” Minnie shouted. “Daniel! Give us a lift to town,

  would you?”

  He stopped and let them catch up, waiting just long enough

  for them to scramble into the back before clicking his tongue for

  the horse to go on. “I’m going to the station. Where to?”

  “The north pier will be fine, thank you.” Cora watched ner-

  vously behind them. But they were fast enough that she didn’t see

  Arthur and Thomas come out of the boardinghouse.

  When Daniel dropped them off, Cora had second thoughts.

  “We really oughtn’t do this. Alden said for Thomas to come alone.”

  Minnie scowled, pulling the door to the dilapidated boathouse

  open and checking inside. “Thomas is already bringing Arthur.

  And no one will know we’re here. Besides, it’s not really Thomas

  and Arthur’s business, anyway, is it? It’s Charles’s.”

  Charles nodded reassuringly at Cora. “That’s right. If anyone

  should be let in on the magical healing secrets of the Ladon Vitae,

  it’s me.”

  Minnie walked in, complaining about the stench of fish. Cora

  hesitated, looking at Charles. “You don’t really think there’s any-

  thing they can do to help you, do you?”

  Charles shrugged. “No, I don’t. I’m mad they’re yanking

  Thom’s chain, is all. He doesn’t deserve any more disappointment.

  He’s a good brother. The best brother.” He held Cora’s eyes in a

  way that felt significant, as though trying to feel whether or not

  she understood just how valued Thomas was.

  Cora nodded solemnly, a winsome smile tugging on her lips.

  “He is.”

  Charles seemed to relax, as though a question had been

  answered. “I’m glad we agree. He’s going to need a lot of help

  when I’m gone. Now, come on. We can’t let them see us!”

  Cora followed him inside. The dim contours of the room

  began to sharpen, settling into focus. A few stacked crates crowded

  against them, and a single grimy window set high in the wall

  opposite begrudgingly let some light in. The floor extended half-

  way across the small building, where it ended at the rock wall of

  the pier. Mild waves slapped lazily, sliding back and forth under

  the gate that opened to allow a single small boat in.

  “Over here,” Minnie whispered, waving them toward the

  back. Several crates were stacked high enough for them to slip

  behind and be out of view, as long as they pressed against each

  other.

  Cora wondered how long they would have to wait, but it was

  only a few minutes before Thomas and Arthur could be heard,

  arguing softly. The door opened again and the boys’ muffled foot-

  steps filled the silence. Cora was certain her heart was beating so

  loudly they’d be able to hear it. Sneaking and spying were Minnie’s

  pastimes, not hers, and she hated the fear of discovery combined

  with the guilt of deception.

  “He’s not here yet,” Thomas said. “We’re early, I think.”

  “Right on time, actually,” Alden answered. A small scratching

  sound was followed by a flickering yellow light throwing their hid-

  ing place into even deeper shadow. “I must thank you for being so

  obliging, Thomas. And for bringing the Liska brat with you. One

  generation must go as another, I suppose.”

  “What are you going to show us?” Thomas asked, wariness

  straining his voice.

  “I’m going to show you what happens when you think an ant

  can tell a god what to do.” Glass shattered, and the room was filled

  with the acrid scent of kerosene and smoke. “Good-bye, little

  ants.” The door slammed.

  An impact rattled the walls of the boathouse, followed by

  another. “He’s barred it!” Arthur shouted.

  “Arthur? Thomas?” Cora peered out from behind the crates.

  Arthur’s eyes widened in terror as he saw her, Minnie, and Charles.

  He and Thomas ran toward them, but the line of flame had

  reached a barrel propped against the wall.

  A popping sound was followed by a low boom, and then the

  entire boathouse was bathed in brilliant, biting orange light.

  October 8, 1967

  seventeen

  A

  rthur blinked, his head pounding. Where was he?

  What was happening?

  A violent shout next to him brought him to his senses.

  Minnie had taken off her overshirt and was using it to smother the

  flames licking at Thomas’s trousers. The wall with the door out

  was entirely consumed by fire, and the air was already thick with

  smoke.

  Arthur sat up, dizzy, and put his hand to his head to find it

  covered in blood.

  Must have hit it in the explosion.

  “. . . Arthur! Look at me!” Cora’s face swam into view in front

  of him, sharpening his focus entirely. “We have to get out of here.”

  “Are you okay?” Minnie asked Thomas, who was crawling

  toward where Charles sat against the far wall, eyes wide and breath

  shallow.

  “I’m fine! I’ll be fine. We’ve got to get out!”

  “The door is blocked,” Arthur said, sluggishly trying to sort

  his thoughts. They needed to leave through the door, but the door

  was blocked.

  Minnie hurried across the narrow strip of wood that skirted the

  water and led to the two gate-like doors that opened onto the ocean

  to let boats in or out. She shook them, but Arthur could see the

  padlock firmly in place. “We’ll have to swim for it!” Minnie said.

  “What if he’s out there watching for us?” Cora asked.

  “Dive deep. Stay under as long as you can. After you get under

  the gate, go left behind the boathouse. We can hang on out there

  until we see whether it’s clear to go. And be careful of the waves. If

  it’s high tide, they’ll be pounding harder.”

  Arthur felt he should be the one saying what to do, figuring

  out how to get them out of here. Minnie needed his help. But she

  was calm and in control, while he could barely think straight.

  When had she become this way?

  Another
popping sound was followed by a burst of light and

  heat so intense Arthur could smell the hair on his arms charring.

  “I’ll get Charles!” Thomas said. He pulled Charles up, putting

  his hands on his face and pulling him close, whispering some-

  thing. Charles nodded, and then, Thomas’s arm around his waist,

  they dove into the water.

  “Come on!” Minnie said, jumping off by the gate and treading

  water, waiting. Cora dove straight down, and before Arthur could

  call out she was under the gate and out of the boathouse. Minnie

  followed.

  Arthur was alone in the burning building.

  And he could not swim.

  He climbed on top of a crate, choking on the smoke, and

  pulled desperately at the long, narrow window. It was sealed shut.

  The flames found another barrel and, with a noise that left his

  ears deafened, exploded. The force of it sent Arthur off the box

  and straight into the water.

  He choked, flailing, trying to force his head above water. Fire

  and smoke and water each pulled at his senses, disorienting him.

  After only a few seconds his head went under and he knew he

  wouldn’t get it up again.

  A hand grabbed his, tugging him. His head broke the surface,

  and he found Minnie next to him. “Hold on to my shoulders and

  kick your legs. I won’t let you drown.”

  Arthur shook his head, more terrified of the cold depths than

  he was of the licking flames.

  “Arthur,” Minnie said, demanding that his eyes focus only on

  her. “I will not let you go. Take a deep breath, and then we’re

  swimming out of here.”

  He nodded. She turned around and let him put his hands on

  her shoulders. He squeezed her, too tightly, and took as deep a

  breath as he could in the smoke-choked air.

  And then they were in the freezing dark of the ocean water.

  He kicked erratically, smashing his knees into Minnie’s legs, but

  she pulled them deeper, under the gate. Arthur saw light play-

  ing above them and tried to steer her up, but she swam harder,

  still going deeper, turning them and pulling herself along the

  mussel-covered rock foundation of the building.

  When Arthur thought his lungs would burst, Minnie abruptly