by Anya Allyn
Sophronia limped over to him. “I see that your hips are about as much use as my bad leg. But you have discovered the secret of the shadow, have you not? There is no way you could be feeding yourself out here in the middle of nowhere. You are using the shadow to flit about.” She raised her dark eyebrows.
He gave her a nod. “The power of this thing damn near terrifies me. What kind of damned alien life form has a shadow that can defend itself and kill and transport itself from place to place? At first, I thought I’d gone completely mad. But then I understood that this damned unholy power was real. I wanted to shout it to everyone I saw. But something worries me more than the monsters—that people would start using the power of the shadows against each other. That would be the end of us.”
“So you’ll train us?” Ben sounded completely like a man in that moment. There was no trace of that awkward, boyish uncertainty he often had in his voice.
I turned to Ethan’s grandfather. “We seek only to stop those people that we told you about—the people of the castle. And to defeat the serpents.”
Mr. McAllister exhaled a long, tense breath. “I’ll train you.”
~.~
We stood out on the snow in a horizontal line, all except for Frances—who sat on a log with her small frame silhouetted by the midday sun. We’d changed from our dollhouse clothing back into our regular clothes. I’d dressed in Ethan’s bedroom, surrounded by the things that made Ethan who he was—his drawings and poetry, a picture of his nine-year-old self with his parents, and a view of the endless forest beyond the small window. I’d breathed in that scent—of forest and wood fires—that was so much a part of Ethan.
Ethan’s grandfather stood ankle deep in the fresh snow outside the cottage, facing us—his hooded eyes weary but intent. He leaned heavily on his walking stick. We’d spent exhausting hours trying to learn how to empty our minds in the face of the onslaught of a shadow, and how to be stronger than the shadow itself.
It was now time to take on a shadow.
Raif insisted on being first. Mr. McAllister cast the shadow out from itself, hurling it toward Raif. I watched the shadow stream through the cold, bright air. Raif doubled over, wrestling with himself.
Mr. McAllister closed his eyes and silently called the shadow back. “You tried to fight it, but that is a fight you can never win. Because you end up fighting yourself. Instead you must simply hold on and hold out. Encompass the shadow with your will.”
Raif rolled about in the snow, breathing heavily.
“You came within seconds of being turned into powder,” Mr. McAllister told him. “I don’t know that we should continue.”
“May I try?” I asked Mr. McAllister. “I’m ready.”
White hair fell across his eyes as he bent his head. “How can I be sure?”
“Because I faced the empress of the serpents and her shadow before.” I told him. “I can do this.”
Very well, Miss Claiborne. But I warn you, you cannot allow it to have free rein, even for a second. Do you understand me?”
“Yes.” I blew breath in and out of my lungs, readying myself. You can do this, I told myself. You controlled your fear when you were put into Balthazar’s cabinet, and you can control your fear now.
Ethan’s grandfather hesitated for a moment, then spread his arms out as he sent the shadow toward me. The shadow was on me instantly, its barbs piercing me. Don’t fight it. Don’t fight. Accept it, surround it, consume it.
I let my mind empty. There was only a towering shadow. Inside my mind, I stood before that towering shadow, and turned away from it. When I turned again, the shadow was gone. That was when I knew—I knew that it was inside me.
I looked around at everyone, panting cold, white breath into the air.
“She did it!” Ben clapped me on the back.
“I’m next,” said Molly quickly.
I balled up the shadow inside me and cast it back to Mr. McAllister.
Each of us practiced taking the shadow in turn—even Raif managing to do it on the third try. We spent the day sending the shadow back and forth between us—until we were sure. Until we were sure we could capture the shadow on the spur of the moment and bend it to our will.
The sun dipped in the sky, glowing amber. Night was coming.
Frances smiled up at me, putting the finishing touches on a mermaid she’d made with packed snow. The snow-mermaid was typical Frances—she hadn’t lived long enough in the normal world to know about such conventions as the usual, round-bodied snow men. “It’s the girl you told us about in the dollhouse,” she said, “the one with gills who could breathe underwater. Remember Jessamine said that she must have one day turned into a mermaid?”
Shyly, Frances pulled my old drawing from her pocket. She must have taken it from the dollhouse.
Grinning, I touched Frances’ tousled head. “Your mermaid is much more beautiful than mine.”
The darkening light crept into the crevices and lines of Frances’ mermaid. I remembered the mermaids I’d seen on another night, mermaids who’d been a sign of refuge. I’d swum through Biscayne Bay, away from the search lights of the Batiste’s yacht, and found my father and the otherworld Molly clinging to the limestone mermaids of the barge of Vizcaya.
My breath catching, I remembered the mermaids I’d seen somewhere else—but where? Had they been in a photo, a painting or something else? Jessamine had said that the room without any line from the riddle could mean a box that had no way of being opened. Had I seen a box with mermaids painted on it somewhere? My mind failed me. But I needed to know. I knew now that Jessamine had left that drawing out for a reason.
I stepped away, where I could be alone for a moment. Slowly, I whispered the words to myself that would help take me into the visions. Horror ubique animos, simul ipsa silentia terrent. I’d looked those words up once, on my mother’s computer. They meant, On all sides round horror spread wide; the very silence breathed a terror on my soul. It was a vision of hell. Strange that Henry had chosen to use that phrase when forcing me into the visions—he’d known all along he was unleashing hell on the earth.
I felt myself shifting, moving. The world went black, and then I returned to the last point of my visions—back to Tobias Batiste’s house. When I was in the castle, Henry had sent my visions there, trying to find out where Tobias had hidden the second book of the Speculum Nemus. In my mind, I watched Tobias pick up the book from his desk and take it into a room filled with circus paraphernalia. I saw him look through old carousel horses and Big Top signage. I remembered now—last time I had been blocked by Madame Celia as soon as he had picked up a box. I hadn’t seen the box clearly before—all I knew was that it had some kind of carved pattern on it. This time, I was determined to get a good look at the box. In a flash, Madame Celia was there again—shutting me out, stopping me from seeing any more. Determined, I forced myself around her. I caught a glimpse of the box Tobias held in his hands. It was brownish in color, but not wood. I peered closer. It seemed to be made of a burnished copper—quite a bit smaller than a milk crate in size. Copper mermaids were engraved around the outside. Madame Celia stood in front of me again. I pretended to be forced away. When I looked again into the vision, Tobias was gone. I moved through the empty house. Knocking noises came from outside, and I followed the sound. Light shone from a high window in the garage. I moved next to the window. Tobias was bent over some kind of odd cement cast, hammering it out of the mold. Madame Celia pushed me away. I struggled to return. She was too strong. I fought my way back into the vision. I saw Tobias rushing away through the darkness at the back of his house. The wide expanse of Biscayne Bay stretched out before him. Hauling a large canvas bag, he boarded a yacht. He sunk an anchor as he reached the stone mermaids sitting on the barge in the water near Vizcaya. Madame Celia’s face came before me again, and I was shut out. I tried to return to the vision, but the icy world of present day was all around me again.
Molly came running. “Cassie! What’s wrong?”
>
“I know where the second book is,” I breathed.
She stopped dead, her eyes widening. “You know?”
I nodded, my hands tightening into fists. “Tobias put the book into a box from the circus, and hid it at the bottom of the bay—in Miami. And I know exactly where.”
~.~
Together, we all made our way to the place not far from the cottage, at the start of the forest road—where the barely perceptible refraction glimmered mid-air. Ethan’s grandfather raised a hand toward the refraction, gazing at it in open awe.
Moving forward as one, we stepped into the glimmer. My heart hammered as I saw the copper box in my mind. I imagined holding it in my hands. I wanted the book with a terrible, burning need.
And—more than anything—I wanted Ethan’s arms around me again.
25. Night of All Shadows
CASSIE
We entered Miami in the middle of a blizzard. Weather so wild that even the serpent skins had been shredded—the smallest of the pieces lying scattered in diamond shapes.
The museum rose before us in the dark night. I thought the blizzard must be fragmenting the scene before me, making it look jagged and wrong. My muscles froze. It was no illusion. The museum had been smashed open like a giant egg. Snow blew into the wide open spaces.
I tried to speak, but no words came. My lungs were punctured, my mind shredded.
Ben and Raif stood open-mouthed, unsure of what to do next.
“What did this...?” Molly’s voice trembled. Frances clung to her side.
“It had to have been the rangers,” cried Sophronia bitterly. “The museum’s defenses must have somehow been down, and they attacked with their tanks. The rangers had no ammunition left, so they must have brought some in from somewhere.”
Ethan’s grandfather bent his head against the driving snow. “There is naught to do but to head inside.”
Wordlessly, we made our way through the deep snow. Inside the planetarium, everything was ghostly pale—we stepped through and into the museum. Drifts of snow had reached as far as I could see along the floors. Lights buzzed on and off, illuminating the horrific scene ahead—the mezzanine floor levels were all bent at odd angles, looking as though a giant had reached in and twisted them in his hand.
“This isn’t the work of the rangers or their tanks.” Sophronia eyed me with a fearful expression.
She was right. This destruction had the signature of the castle.
Raif swallowed. “I’ll go look... up there.” He pointed at the upstairs floors that hung precariously, their metal fixtures groaning and shifting.
“No one is going up there,” said Sophronia firmly. “If anyone had still been on those floors, they would have made their way down....”
She squeezed her eyes shut and I knew what she wasn’t saying. There might not be a single person left alive here. My stomach wrenched. I shouldn’t have left. I should have stayed here and waited for Ethan. Where was he?
Frances stood rigidly, her hair blowing around her tiny face. “What if the rangers came and took... everyone?”
Molly squeezed her shoulder. “We’re going to find out what happened.” She looked over at us. “Maybe it’s better, if Frances doesn’t go any further,” she said quietly. “We don’t know what we’ll find.” She didn’t need to say more. If any people were lying dead in the other rooms and spaces, Frances didn’t need to see that.
Raif, Ben and I decided that Molly, Aisha, Sophronia and Ethan’s grandfather would stay behind with Frances—they protested this, but Sophronia was unable to climb, and Molly and Aisha had still not gained full muscle strength after being in comas for so long. And Ethan’s grandfather couldn’t even walk without the aid of a walking stick.
I stepped away with Ben, Lacey and Raif. The museum was eerily still, save for the tremors of the concrete and steel floors above and random bits of plaster falling to the floor.
Lacey shivered, pulling her coat around herself. “This could all come crashing down any minute.”
We stepped into the meeting area. The overhead aquarium had been smashed—the escaped seawater lying in thick, icy patches on the floor. We continued on to the stairs—the previously straight steps had been contorted into an almost spiral shape, with wide holes punched through them.
“Careful,” said Raif, moving ahead.
The stairs shifted and groaned as we stepped through to the next floor. We searched the dark, ruined labs of the scientists. Filing cabinets and papers were strewn everywhere. Lacey gasped at the sight of a man’s body crumpled beneath a desk—it was one of the scientists, Dr. Zimmerman.
Climbing over debris and fallen walls, we combed the other rooms and spaces.
“Anyone here? Anyone?” called Ben. No one answered.
The set of stairs that led to the next floor had been completely ripped away—the end of it wavering midair. The offices of the Order had been torn open. The dead hung limply over stair railings and desks.
Desperately, I jumped over a gaping hole to the stairs.
“No!” Raif called. “You won’t make it.”
Gripping the stair railing, I looked back over my shoulder. My breaths squeezed through my lungs. I had to find him.
“Cassie!” Lacey cried.
The entire staircase dropped a foot, a grinding noise shooting beneath my feet. I leapt through empty air as the stairs fell from under me—Raif and Ben catching my arms and pulling me up. Concrete and steel shattered on the floor two stories below.
“That’s it.” Raif stared at me with round eyes. “We can’t go any further. There’s no point—no one’s still alive—and we can’t get any further anyway.”
I stared about. The other sets of stairs leading to the upper floors were all demolished.
Pulling away from Ben and Raif, I rushed away. “There’s a basement. We need to check that!”
With blood pumping violently through my chest, I raced ahead to the ground floor. Everything was completely black beyond the stairs that led to the basement. My legs were stone as I walked each step.
I heard Molly and the others behind us, keeping at a distance—still shielding Frances from seeing more than she needed to.
Pushing the heavy door open, I shone my flashlight around. All the museum supplies from the shelving were scattered about. A thin line of light ran beneath the door that led to the old makeshift hospital room. My heart tightened. With the electricity supply to the basement completely cut, someone had to be burning some kind of light of their own in there.
Tripping across the debris, I ran to the hospital door. The door was locked. Anyone could be in here—rangers, castle people, or a lone drifter.
“Hello? Hello?” I rattled the door handle.
Light streaked out as the door cracked open. Dark eyes looked into mine—eyes full of pain and glazed surprise. “Cassie....”
“My God, Nabaasa!” Stumbling forward, I hugged her tightly. She was real and beautiful. She was hope.
Beyond Nabaasa, faces turned my way—the people of the museum. They sat, disheveled, leaning against the walls. But less than half of them were here. There were only a handful of the Order and guards, and there were missing members among the families. And not one of the faces was Ethan’s.
Moving back from Nabaasa, I held her arms. “Where’s Ethan?”
Her eyes shadowed. “I’m so sorry. So sorry.”
“Tell me.” My voice closed to barely a whisper.
“The castle has him.”
Words choked in my throat. Blindly, I turned and ran past Raif and Lacey and the others.
Ethan’s grandfather caught my arm, his eyes desolate. “Is he here?”
I shook my head. Running outside, I faced the tall night and raging wind.
A high shout sounded behind me. I turned to see Molly following me.
“Cassie,” she cried above the roar, “You can’t go after him!”
Everything in me was numb, my mind too. “I have to.”
The planes of her face were taut under the moonlight. She panted white streams of air. “What can you do there? You can’t save him—look at what they did to the museum. How can you fight that?”
“Tell me, what else can I do?”
She pointed at the dark, frozen lake. “Do what you came here to do. If we don’t find the book, the castle will—and then Ethan will die, along with the rest of us.”
A hard lump formed in my throat as I stared across the ice. Pain seared my mind, as black as the shadow that had been inside me.
~.~
I retraced my steps back to the museum with Molly. The others had already stepped down into the basement. Ben and Raif were introducing themselves to Zoe and Derrick. Frances had her arms wrapped around Nabaasa's middle.
Ethan’s granddad leaned heavily on his stick as he took Nabaasa’s hand. “Dear lady, I haven’t lived this long not to be able to see great suffering when I see it on someone’s face. You have lost many dear ones.”
She nodded, gazing at him questioningly. “Yes. But who are you?”
“My name is Seth McAllister. I am the grandfather of the boy you know well—Ethan—and I have been told of all the assistance you gave him, and I thank you for that. He means a great deal to me.”
She bowed her head. “I’m so sorry you had to hear that news about your own grandson, Seth.”
He exhaled a regretful sigh. “I’d thought I’d live to my last day without ever seeing him again. But his friends came, out of nowhere, and told me of his life over the past two years. That is more news of Ethan than I thought I’d ever hear.”
They both turned as Molly and I stepped up to them, shaking snow from our hoods and shoulders.
Nabaasa sighed in relief. “Molly, it’s good that you stopped her.”
“What happened here?” I cried.
“The Order made a deal with the castle,” said Nabaasa, her words strained and heavy. “They would give you and Ethan to the castle in exchange for the castle calling off the serpents. But of course, the castle had no intention of honoring such a deal. They took Ethan, and destroyed the museum looking for you. The rangers no longer have the protection of the serpents. We heard the serpents and their shadows converge on the ranger stronghold last night. We believe that they killed every last ranger. The shadows will be coming for us next, and I’m afraid that this is the end for us.”
