“Where do you want to go?”
“The Morrison spot.”
Teddy explained, “It’s this weird spot in the forest where these two carriages collided around two hundred years ago. The two families hit were both distant relatives, both with the last name of Morrison. The palewraiths of the people who died just circle it and never go away, obsessed with their own death. It’s really creepy.”
“Fine, you can go,” Emmy said, and then turned to Breckin. “But I’m going with you.”
What? She can’t, how am I supposed to follow Cyrus if she’s with me ...
Emmy stopped in her tracks – did he say Cyrus? Did Breckin have something against Cyrus as well?
“Teddy, go to the wall as planned. The two of us will head over to this spot and check it out.”
Teddy sucked in a breath, about to protest, but instead rolled his eyes and headed off in the other direction with their other team member. Emmy and Breckin halted, and Breckin started towards a clearing. She followed him. His eyes darted wildly, shaking, like his body was going to explode from a bundle of energy inside him.
“Do you have ADHD?” she asked.
This got him to stand still. “What?”
“Never mind. You know, you could have just offered this suggestion back at the beginning. I’m not the boss. You are.”
He shrugged. “It was your accomplishment, I didn’t want to get in the way. Plus, you did pretty well. It’s a good plan.” He said all this very quickly, breathless, clearly wanting to move forward. She noticed how he enunciated too many syllables, making him sound slightly British.
“You’re not going to be a very good politician if you don’t take credit for what other people have done.”
Although it was a clear jibe, all he did was laugh. The action formed little crinkles around his eyes. She felt a pulse throb in her ear, growing tired of this stupid boy.
“I’m not a very good politician, don’t worry.” He looked around to see if anyone else was present, and when the coast was clear, he took a step towards her. “Look, Lana, I don’t know what I’ve done, or what people have told you, but I’m really not that bad.”
She stiffened. “I never said you were.”
“Yeah, but you look at me like you want to stab me with a pencil.” He sighed. “You’re living in the same house with my best friend, so we’re probably going to run into each other once in a while. I just want to set the record straight. Have I done something to offend you?”
There was a long pause. If it weren’t for the sound of the students fighting in the distance, the silence would have deafened her. She knew this was her own fault for steering off from the group to follow him, yet she still felt irrationally angry at him for trapping her like this. “You didn’t technically do anything.”
Am I getting through to her?
“Is is because I’m the Eldoir? If that’s all it is, then there’s nothing I can do. I get that a lot.”
“No, it isn’t.”
His eyes were lingering on her, studying her.
Maybe it was all a misunderstanding. She can’t really hate me that much, can she?
Unless he was a sociopath, she couldn’t see how he could be feigning his expression. He eyes, the worried dent in his forehead, his mouth slightly parted, resisting the urge to bite his lip – he looked sincere. Even his thoughts suggested all he wanted was to have her not hate him, and then it occurred to her. What should have occurred to her weeks ago.
Maybe he wasn’t doing it on purpose. Maybe he didn’t even know he was speaking in her head. That seemed to make a lot more sense, considering he had never spoken to her telepathically, but rather just spoke his everyday thoughts. Plus, it seemed a lot more aligned with the personality Jade insisted he had.
Her face must have spoken volumes because he took another step towards her and held out his hand. “Are we okay?”
She took it. “Yes, we’re fine.”
He smiled again, the same crinkles folding around his eyes. He really did a have a funny face, but that shy little smile was golden.
“We should probably head to the Morrison’s spot,” she said.
The sweetness in his face vanished, replaced with determination and jumpy mannerisms again. “Yeah, we should. Come on, it’s not too far away.”
I hope he’s still there. He meant Cyrus.
The two of them continued on out of the clearing and back into the woods, which had become even denser than before. Breckin’s strapper body made him move through the leaf undergrowth soundlessly, but it wasn’t until they moved away from the dead leaves and onto the dirt was Emmy capable of being even somewhat stealthy. Finally Breckin came to a stop, causing Emmy to ram into his back. She looked over his shoulder, and there was the Morrison’s spot.
It really was as bizarre as Teddy had said. The skeletons of two carriages were smashed together, and several palewraiths indeed circled the area, as if guarding sacred ground. Breckin must have been paying strict attention because he had been right about Cyrus – he was standing in front of it, going down on his knees and trying to squeeze through the rotating palewraiths.
Emmy and Breckin watched him in silence, which paid off, as Cyrus’s attention was elsewhere. After about ten minutes of circling the carriages, someone off in the distance called “Cyrus!” causing all three of them to jump, and Cyrus to leave.
After he reached a safe distance from them, Breckin broke his freeze frame and rushed over to the Morrison’s spot, Emmy on his heels.
“Is it dangerous?” she asked.
“No, it just creeps people out. It’s why it might be a good place to hide something.”
“Is that what this is about? Or is it more about Cyrus?”
Breckin narrowed his eyes to focus on the carriages. “I don’t like him, let’s just say.” He made his way closer until he was only a few inches away from the first palewraith. “Do you want to come looking in it with me?”
“Er, okay. Do I just walk through?”
“Pretty much. Walking through one might feel funny, but it won’t hurt you.”
She followed his lead, walking through the palewraiths. Emmy felt like she had turned to water, but other than that, nothing happened. She looked inside the windows of the carriages, but there were no remnants – not even bones – of human beings in them. She shivered; it would take her time to adjust to the idea that what was whooshing by her was all that was left of the people who had died, just a foot away from her.
Breckin leaped into the only carriage still with an entrance; the other had been crushed in the collision. Emmy followed suit, craning her neck to begin her search. So many layers of dust covered the seating that the color was indiscernible. The wallpaper – red with a gold vine design – had been rotted to its core. As Breckin scoured the far left end, Emmy bent over and looked under the seats for anything useful. She narrowed her eyes to protect them from all the dust and cobwebs underneath, and saw a faint yellowish glow. Didn’t Flin say that the object would glow? She dragged her body further under the seat, but there was nothing there. She could, however, see that the back of the carriage had been destroyed, taking out a lot of the back end.
In excitement she crawled out from under the bench, stood up and walked out the front door.
“Hey, I think I found something,” she said. Breckin followed her.
The second carriage was just as filthy and had been even more damaged than the other one had been. The left side was completely crushed in, leaving only the right set of seats intact. They quickly searched the right half of the carriage. Nothing.
Emmy was about to tell him there probably wasn’t anything there, when Breckin strode over to the crushed side and began to pull it apart like an accordion. Using the right seat as an anchor, he stretched out his body, and it yielded. Emmy could hear the other carriage screeching in protest.
What Breckin had done caused a lot of splinters to come tumbling down into a heap. Without hesitation he leaned over and
began sweeping them out of the way. Emmy noticed the more splinters he threw over, the stronger the light began to appear. When she realized something was there for sure, she rushed down beside him and helped him. Within half a minute, all the debris and scraps were out of the way, there was indeed something there.
It was a portal.
Breckin reached out to touch it and instinctively Emmy grabbed hold of his hand.
“Are you crazy?” she said. “You don’t know where that will take you.”
“Do you think Cyrus knew it was here?”
“I have no idea, and it doesn’t matter.” She stood up, brushing the dust off her clothes. “We need to go tell the coaches about this.”
“I want to go straight to the governor. This should be enough to get Cyrus out of Methelwood for good.”
Emmy tried to not let the exasperation show on her face. What did Cyrus do to make Breckin hate him so much? She was certainly suspicious of him, but not like Breckin was.
“We don’t know if he even knew about this. It might be nothing.”
Breckin shook his head. “No. Making an orb is extremely difficult. Plus, they have to go through Ministrial first. Whoever made this didn’t authorize it.”
“Alright, then let’s go back to the school and find Babbage and Flin and have them take care of it,” Emmy said patiently.
That was the end of the conversation, and the two of them ran through the forest. Breckin luckily knew the forest well enough to trace their steps, otherwise Emmy would have had no way of knowing where to go.
When they returned, Babbage was not happy to see them. “What are you doing back? You don’t have it.”
“Well, we found something else,” Breckin said grimly. “You know the Morrison’s Spot? We found an orb buried in the wreckage.”
Babbage pressed his lips together, seeing this problem more of an annoyance to his class than anything. “That wasn’t the object we hid.”
“Yeah, I figured,” Breckin said with exasperation. “I want to go to Circlet with this. I think I know who might have put it there, or at least knew about it and didn’t tell anyone.”
“I’ve heard she’s gone away for a conference until tomorrow. I’d like you to show me, if you don’t mind.”
Babbage ordered Flin to stay at his spot until the class was finished, and the other three headed back to the Morrison’s Spot. Emmy let Breckin take over from there; he was much more zealous about this than she was. Breckin quickly went over what had happened while leading Babbage to the orb in the right carriage. Babbage’s grey face grew grimmer and grimmer as Breckin went on, and by the time they found the portal, his entire face was pinched in concentration.
“I’ll head over to Ministrial later to have it removed. Do you know where it goes?”
“How would I?”
Although Emmy didn’t think it was possible, Babbage’s glare deepened. “No need to get snippy. Alright, we’ll take care of this. You better go finish up your lesson. You only have about ten minutes left.”
“What about Circlet? I want to talk to her.”
“Yes, you and Rathers can do that tomorrow, if you’d like. Clearly there’s something you’re not telling me.”
Emmy and Breckin headed off after that, leaving Babbage to his inspective brooding. When they were a far enough distance away, Emmy spoke up.
“Look, Breckin?” she said timidly. “We don’t have any proof against Cyrus, maybe you shouldn’t say anything to Circlet yet.”
Breckin turned to her and sighed, giving her a pitiful look. Emmy tried to suppress her annoyance at his condescension to let him speak. “You don’t know him. What I’m doing is for the best of everyone.”
“Well, how do you know him? He just moved here a little while ago.”
“Yes, and do you know where he came from?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “Not Delvynmore, like he’s telling everyone. Do you know who James Thoreoux is?”
Something cold traveled up her spine. “Yes.”
“Cyrus was with him, for a long time. Brenna – his mother – told me personally that Cyrus’s younger brother Brynn was stolen from her as well. She saw it with her own eyes.”
“But how do you know for sure?”
“Cyrus’s father – Rhoan Crow – was Thoreoux’s right hand man. Before Rhoan died, that is.”
Emmy hugged herself, not expecting that at all. Cyrus worked for the man who wanted Breckin dead. And now Cyrus was here. A large part of her just didn’t want to respond at all; she had never dealt with something like this before. What was she supposed to say to someone who was being hunted like this?
“That makes more sense,” was all she said. There was no way to make this less uncomfortable.
She had talked to Cyrus. She had had a conversation with someone who worked for a murderer, and was probably going to be one soon.
Her irritation at Breckin, for the second time that day, disintegrated.
“Let me come with you,” she said, taking a step toward him. “Tomorrow, when you go to Circlet’s. Circlet must know you have a bias towards him, but I don’t. Or at least, she doesn’t know I do. I’ll back you up.”
He raised his head to look at her, shock written across his face. “No, I can’t ask you to do that. Involving you in this is a bad idea, just in case Cyrus finds out.”
He wasn’t done speaking, but she cut him off. “I want to help you. I found the portal too, Breckin. I have every right to tell Circlet as you do.” She said all of this as kindly as she could.
As she had hoped, he seemed to respond to her amiable side. “Okay, fine.”
She’s so weird. Oh well, I’ll take it.
They walked back in the direction of the school; the whistle had been blown and the hunt was over. Emmy wasn’t too surprised to find out that Jade’s team had won, an old, white sword in her hand. Emmy clapped, proud of her, when she noticed that Cyrus was also on Jade’s team. And he was watching Emmy. She did a double take, at first not believing how blatant his stony stare was, but there it was. He didn’t even back down when she noticed him.
And just like that, the intense dislike she had directed at Breckin just earlier that day was dumped onto Cyrus Crow. She didn’t like him staring at her, she didn’t like the panic he was causing Breckin, and she didn’t like that he worked for Thoreoux. She matched Cyrus’s glare, just to let him be aware that, if she had to, she wouldn’t stay out of his way.
Chapter 11
Black Eyes
“Cyrus, dear, are you all right?”
Cyrus snapped his head up into the gray eyes, identical to his own, of his mother, Brenna. Despite her elaborate, embroidered dress and her long, black hair pulled sharply back from her face in a chignon, she did not appear like the queen she intended. She looked like a very concerned mother playing dress up.
Ever since he had returned to Methelwood, he had told her next to nothing of what had happened during those years away, or why he came back. She was so paranoid he would leave again she did not bother pressuring him into telling her. She was simply overjoyed to have her sons back, and expected nothing more, which made Cyrus’s life a lot easier.
“Yes,” she said, as he always did when she asked. “But Mother, I have a meeting, and he isn’t going to arrive until you leave. You better go put Brynn to sleep, it’s after ten o’ clock. You’ve been spoiling him ever since we got back.”
“Which is one thing I have no qualms about,” she said, bowing down to kiss his cheek. “But, if you’d like, I’ll leave. I’ll go read your brother a bedtime story.”
“He’d like that.” She shuffled out of the room, relieving some tension in Cyrus’s muscles. He sank deeper into the couch, releasing a loud exhale. He was in his father’s old study, a place he had remembered avoiding as a child. Brenna hadn’t moved any of his things, which must have been quite a difficult chore to do considering the mansion had been taken apart in Delvynmore and put back together in Methelwood. It was like she was scared of hi
s ghost.
His father had decorated it quite nicely, though. His enormous cherry desk sat against the wall on the right side; Cyrus had many memories of Rhoan sitting in his chair at that desk, carved like a throne. Oil paintings of places in the human world decorated the dark walls, which did nothing but make Rhoan crave their world even more. Cyrus sat in the black settee, the only place to lie down besides his father’s chair, giving him a full view of the stain glass window depicting a bloody scene of the Lovelace Revolt of 1814. Methelwoodians, as usual, were slaughtering the revolting civilians of Lovelace. It had been a short revolt.
Cyrus wiggled into a more comfortable position, hoping this wouldn’t take too long. It was weird sitting in the dark like this, the only light coming from a dimmed torch on the opposite wall, dead silence except for the ticking clock.
That morning he had gotten a message on his nightstand, reading:
Cyrus,
I need to speak to you. Be in your father’s study room by 10:00 this evening.
T
He wasn’t sure how Thoreoux intended to talk to him; it wasn’t as if he could show his face in this orb. Thoreoux had cryptically threatened him that he could see everything he did, but since this was so vague, all Cyrus could do was wait.
And then something crashed through the stain glass window. Cyrus’s reflexes were sharp, but not fast enough to shy away from all the glass tumbling down from the air. Luckily for him he covered his face quick enough to only receive minor cuts on his arms. Only when all the glass was rattling on the floor did he uncoil his arms and gape.
The white lion that had attacked Emmy Rathers was standing in the middle of the room on their two thousand dollar grizzly bear rug.
The animal did not pounce or even bend lower as if ready to, clearly without any intention on hurting him, but Cyrus inched away anyways. But it was looking at him with golden eyes, set in a way that depicted recognition in a very human way.
Through the huge hole in the window another figure stepped through, only this time it was a person. Like the lion, something was wrong with him. His eyes did not have pupils, the sclera pure bug-like black. His motions were also wrong; he moved, but not of his own free will. Something was pushing the body, like a marionette being directed by an amateur puppeteer.
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