Rook cringed at the amount of paper the boy had gone through. She picked up the sketchbook—thankfully, it still had a few pages left—and tucked it under her arm, out of Fox’s reach. The boy was too busy adjusting a crane’s wing to notice.
“Did you have to make so many of them?” Drift asked faintly.
“Yes,” Fox said. He chewed his lip as he examined the bird’s beak, which was just a bit crooked. He refolded it.
“Fox, pay attention,” Rook scolded him. “This paper belongs to Drift. It wasn’t yours to take.” She scooped up the birds nearest the fireplace and moved them onto her bed so they wouldn’t catch any errant sparks.
Fox froze and dropped the crane he’d been working on. He looked up at Drift, his eyes wide. “This was wrong?” he asked.
“Well, it would have been nice if you’d asked first,” Drift said, looking pained. “I would have given you some paper—not all of it, but some.”
Fox’s freckled cheeks reddened. He picked up the crane he’d been working on and began unfolding it, careful not to tear the delicate edges of its wings. But when he’d flattened it out, there were creases all over the paper that wouldn’t go away, no matter how much he smoothed it with his hands. His face scrunched up in misery.
“Ruined it,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“I know—it’s all right,” Drift said. In the face of Fox’s misery, she seemed quick to forgive. “Here, let’s just make it into a bird again.” She tried to refold the paper, but her hands didn’t have nearly the same skill as Fox’s. “Where did you learn how to do this?” she asked.
“Messages,” Fox said. He took the bird from her and absently refolded it back into a crane.
“Messages,” Rook echoed, confused. “You mean instructions? Did you read a book on how to make them? Or look at pictures?”
Fox paused in the act of pinching a corner of paper between his thumb and forefinger. He looked up at Rook and shook his head. “It was a message,” he said.
A strange, unsettling feeling crawled up Rook’s spine. She reached out and put a hand on Fox’s arm, forcing him to look up at her. “What does that mean?” she asked. “Someone taught you how to do this? Who was the message from?”
A line formed between Fox’s brows, and he shrugged. “Don’t know who,” he said. He held up his hands. “They just know.”
Rook sat back, releasing Fox’s arm so he could fold his paper. She and Drift exchanged a glance. He had to mean someone from his past, Rook realized. Like the rest of the exiles, Fox had lost his memory when he passed through the magical portal to Talhaven. He remembered that someone had taught him how to fold paper into birds, but he didn’t know who it was.
Still, there was something about the way he’d said “message” that made Rook’s scalp tingle. She felt like she was missing something important, but she didn’t know what it was, and she didn’t think Fox knew either.
“Hey,” Drift said, breaking the silence that had fallen in the room. “I think we have some string in the closet. Why don’t I go get it and we’ll hang these birds up to make them fly!”
Fox looked up. A hopeful smile broke through the misery on his face. “They’ll fly?” he asked.
“They will when I’m done with them,” Drift assured him.
They found some string on a shelf in the closet alongside some tacks that neither Rook nor Drift remembered buying. They used it to attach strings to the cranes, hawks, and other avian species, and one by one attached them to the ceiling. Soon there was a flock of paper birds soaring over the living room, a separate group nesting in a circle on the mantel, and a pair on the nightstands next to Rook’s and Drift’s beds.
“Can I have some of the leftover birds?” Drift asked, cradling an owl in her hand. “I’d love to do some sketching on them, maybe define their plumage and faces. What do you think?”
Fox sprang up from where he’d been sitting on the floor and quickly scooped up a whole handful of birds, depositing them in Drift’s lap. He ducked his head, a shy smile spreading over his face.
“I think that’s a yes,” Rook said, grinning.
This was one of the times she was reminded how much she loved Drift. Rather than being angry at seeing so much of her sketching paper folded into animals, Drift used it as an opportunity for a new art project and a way to show Fox that his talents were appreciated. She always saw the best in every situation. And in every person.
“Can we have some music, Rook?” Drift asked as she stood on her bed to hang the last of the birds from the ceiling.
Rook got her chalk and went to the wall above her bed. With a few tiny flourishes, she sketched a fist-sized circle, and it changed before her eyes into a little round door, the kind that might fit on a birdhouse. There was a yellow flower painted on it, no bigger than a coin. Rook pulled the door open and left it while she went to gather up the string and tacks.
A few minutes later, the sound of a piping flute drifted through the door, a march that made you want to tap your foot in time with the music. Hearing it, Rook felt some of the pain of their earlier encounter with the Red Watchers fade away.
“Perfect!” Drift said, and with a wave of her hand, she conjured a gentle breeze. She used the song’s rhythm to swing the birds back and forth as if they were dancing in flight. Fox jumped off the bed and landed on the floor in fox form, bounding around the room in playful circles.
And then, without even meaning to, they all started dancing, driven along by the happy music. Rook twirled in a circle while Fox yipped and wiggled, trying not to knock her over in the small space. Laughing, Drift swept her hands out, and her wind lifted Rook six inches from the floor so that she was dancing on air. Fox jumped up and barked, his tail swishing back and forth in wild joy.
Soon Rook was sweating and giggling, her feet tapping the air to kept time with the flute player. She and Drift clasped hands and spun until they were both dizzy. Rook let herself fall to the ground and sprawled on her back, watching the birds spin above her head. Fox dove after her and they wrestled until Rook was laughing so hard she thought she’d never be able to stop. She threw her arms around Fox’s neck and hugged him, her cheek buried in his thick red coat.
As she held him, she looked up and noticed Drift still hovering in midair, gazing down at the two of them. She was smiling, but there was a strange look in her friend’s eyes, one Rook had never seen before. Drift caught her staring, and she spun in a playful circle, breaking eye contact. When she turned back around, she was grinning, and the expression in her eyes had vanished, leading Rook to think she’d imagined it.
But she could have sworn that just for an instant, in the middle of all that joy and laughter, her friend had looked…lonely.
THEIR JOURNEY TO RILL PARK began with an argument, Rook and Fox against Drift.
“Fox absolutely cannot come with us!” Drift said, for maybe the tenth time. “Rook, you of all people should know how dangerous it is if he’s seen in his fox form!”
Rook did know how dangerous it was. People would immediately assume that Fox was a monster escaped from the Wasteland, the constables would be summoned, the Red Watchers would give chase, and they would all probably be captured.
But she also knew that she couldn’t leave Fox trapped in the house. If something happened to her or Drift, he would be stuck without a door, and she couldn’t rely on the house’s unpredictable magic to set him free.
Besides, Fox knew they were going on an important mission. He obviously wanted to help and was determined not to be left behind this time. Rook knew this because Fox’s contribution to the argument was to sit in his giant fox form in front of the wall where Rook created her doors to the outside world. He was alert and tense, ready to dart through as soon as a way out appeared. Even if she agreed with Drift, there was no way he’d let them leave the house without him.
“We’re going to be in the woods at Rill Park,” Rook pointed out. “The place we’ll come out has trees and big boulders everywhere to hide us. No one will be able to see Fox.”
While she spoke, Fox remained sitting by the door. The only thing that moved was his ear, twitching in response to the cracks and pops from the fire. He stared at Drift, full of fox resolve.
Drift sighed and relented, but she didn’t look happy.
Their decision made, Rook went to the wall and sketched a quick door out into the star tunnel. When they were all through, she closed the house safely away. Now, even if there was a trap waiting in Rill Park, no one would be able to force their way back through the door to find the roost. All they’d see was a strange, dead-end tunnel.
At the end of the passage, she drew a different door, tall and narrow, one more suited in shape to a tree. As she drew, Rook imagined the space in Rill Park—the deep shade of the harringwood grove, with large, smooth boulders rising up to form a wall off to one side. If she concentrated, she swore she could smell the fresh-cut grass and hear the sparrows chattering in the trees.
When she’d connected the lines, the door that appeared was slender and white, a candle without a wick. Its hinges were black and shaped like arrowheads. The door handle had a button at the top to release the latch.
“Is everybody ready?” Rook asked.
“Ready,” Drift said, recovering her usual confidence.
Fox yipped excitedly, and Rook took it as agreement.
Swallowing her nerves, she opened the door.
Dappled sunlight fell on Rook’s face, brightening the end of the star tunnel. She stepped out into a grove of harringwoods, their red trunks and thick, tulip-shaped leaves hanging over her head like a protective umbrella. Insects buzzed all around, and the air smelled of lilac bushes and the sweet rill flowers that gave the park its name.
Turning, Rook looked up. The door she’d just passed through opened out of one of the largest harringwoods in the grove. Its trunk was so thick it would take all three of them joining hands to wrap their arms around it. A crow cawed loudly somewhere close by, startled into flight by the sight of something that should not be: three figures emerging like spirits from the trunk of the great old tree.
Rook held the door open while Drift stepped out, and Fox came bounding behind her. He skidded to a stop, kicking up small clumps of dirt and grass, ears twitching every time a bird chirruped.
“Do you hear anything, Fox?” Rook asked. They appeared to be alone in the grove, but she didn’t have Fox’s keen senses to tell her for sure.
Fox cocked his head and listened. The wind ruffled his red and white fur. Then his ears flattened to his head, and he uttered a low growl.
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Drift said. “I think someone’s coming.” She took up a position at the front of the group, with Fox crouched next to her. Rook stayed in the rear, keeping the door that led to the star tunnel open in case they needed to dive back through it. They had rehearsed the escape plan before they left the house, but her hand still trembled on the door handle as she waited for whoever was coming to show themselves.
A woman stepped into the shade of one of the harringwood trees. Rook recognized her immediately, but it was Drift who spoke first.
“It’s you,” she said in surprise. “Lily.”
Rook relaxed and let the door in the harringwood tree swing closed and disappear before it could start to drain her magic.
“Hello, girls.” The woman smiled, deepening the crease her scar made on her cheek. She crossed the grove toward them, but when her gaze rested on Fox, she stopped in her tracks.
“It’s all right,” Drift said, putting her hand on Fox’s head. “He’s not from the Wasteland. He’s an exile, like Rook and me. A shapeshifter. Show her, Fox.”
Fox eyed Lily, and Rook wondered if he recognized her from their last encounter in the alley. If so, he might not look kindly on the woman who’d run screaming to the constables to get away from him.
But Fox seemed more curious than anything, and after a moment of mutual appraisal, he shifted to his human form, red hair aflame in the sunlight. Rook blinked, and he shifted again, back into a fox. Lily’s eyes widened during the transformations. Rook waited for signs of fear or disgust to cross her face, but to her relief, Lily didn’t look the least bit repulsed.
“Extraordinary,” she said, venturing a few steps closer. Now that she knew Fox wasn’t a threat, she appeared just as curious about him as he was about her. She held out a hand but seemed unsure what to do with it. Fox helped her out by scooting forward and bumping her fingers with his nose. Lily chuckled and scratched his ears. “I see you enjoy being a fox more than a human,” she said.
Rook had been thinking the same thing, but she was surprised Lily had seen into Fox’s heart so quickly. The woman was perceptive.
Now that she’d gotten over her surprise at seeing Lily again, Rook was confused. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “Why do you need to escape the city? Is it because you helped the Kelmins?”
Lily turned her attention from Fox and regarded her steadily. “Not exactly,” she said, and though her voice was calm, Rook felt a shadow of tension fall over the grove. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t been entirely honest with you girls.”
Rook’s uneasiness grew, threatening to become panic. She took a step back. “I was right—you’re a Red Watcher,” she said. Her gaze swung to Drift. “It’s a trap!”
A gust of wind shook the grove as Drift’s own fear surged. Their group closed ranks, clustering together for protection, but Lily held up her hands in a calming gesture. “Wait, please,” she said, soothingly. “I swear to you, I’m not a Red Watcher. I’m only here to ask for your help. But you see, I don’t need a door.”
“What do you need, then?” Drift asked suspiciously.
Lily lowered her hands. “Regara is in great danger,” she said. “I need your help to save the city.”
It was the last thing Rook had expected her to say. Before she or Drift could think of a response, Fox tensed and growled another warning.
“What is it?” Drift asked, laying a hand on Fox’s back. “Did you hear something?”
A second later, Rook heard it too. More footsteps approached the grove, and multiple figures stepped out from behind the trees.
Rook’s blood froze in her veins. There were four of them, and they were all wearing the uniforms of Regaran constables.
It had been a trap after all, and they’d let Lily lead them right into it.
THE CONSTABLES SURROUNDED THEM. Rook, Drift, and Fox instinctively tensed, ready to fight or run, but Lily held up her hands again, turning a pleading look on the constables.
“Captain Hardwick, I asked you and your men to wait until I’d had a chance to explain the situation,” she said tersely. “You’re frightening the children for no reason!”
“I thought you’d learned by now that you’re not the one giving orders,” replied the captain, a heavyset man with a dark beard and thick mustache whose eyes tracked every movement the three exiles made. There was a badge pinned to his chest, a stylized R on a silver-wave background, the city crest of Regara.
Rook cursed herself. How could she have been so stupid? She’d trusted Lily and banished the door back to the star tunnel, cutting off their escape route. Beside her, Fox’s lips pulled back in a snarl. His fur darkened, and his shadow lengthened, flowing like spilled ink across the ground. Lily and the captain were too busy arguing to notice, but the other constables shifted uncomfortably, their hands dropping to their pistol hilts.
Rook realized if she didn’t stop Fox, one of the constables was liable to shoot him out of fear.
Dropping to her knees beside Fox, she threw her arms around his neck and whispered in his ear. “It’s all right,” she said. “We’re caught, but just wait. Wait for a
chance to escape. Please, Fox. Don’t do anything right now.”
She didn’t know if she was getting through. She tightened her grip on his muscled shoulders. No wonder he preferred being a fox. In this form, he was strong and powerful, and right now, every instinct was telling him to use that power to protect himself and his friends.
But that didn’t make him invincible.
“Please,” she repeated in a choked voice. “I don’t want to lose you.”
Her soft plea was like its own magic. It drained the fight out of Fox, and his growl tapered off to a soft whine.
“Good boy,” she murmured, relief making her weak in the knees. She stayed on the ground beside Fox to keep him calm, while Drift stepped forward to address Lily and the captain.
“What do you want with us?” she demanded. “If this is about what happened with Fox, I’m telling you, he didn’t come from the Wasteland. We weren’t trying to hurt anyone.”
“That’s not why we’re here,” the captain said. His eyes narrowed. “Although your antics in the city are what first brought you to our attention.”
“We’d heard rumors of two powerful exiles,” Lily cut in, “one of whom could fly, while the other had the power to open doors to anywhere in the world.” She gave Rook a small smile. “I thought I’d heard of every type of magic still out there, but yours is an ability I’ve never encountered before. I had to see for myself if you were real.”
“That’s why you helped the Kelmins,” Drift said, her cheeks flushing in anger. “You were just trying to get close to us.”
“Yes,” Lily said, looking guilty. “I didn’t want to lie to you then, and I’m truly sorry for the ruse that brought you here now. You’ve both impressed us with the extent of your powers, but they’ve also made you nearly impossible to track down. We needed a way to find you, because I knew you were the ones to help me. I told Captain Hardwick as much.”
The Door to the Lost Page 9
