by Natale Ghent
“I’m sure they already know.” He closed his eyes. “Concentrate on the mark.”
After everything that had happened, after all her misgivings about Hex and the judgment Poe said she would enforce, Caddy didn’t think she could summon the mark. Yet it appeared as readily as before, sparkling in her mind. She traced its pathway, and the faces of the Dreamers emerged. When she opened her eyes Poe was looking back at her.
“You saw them,” he said.
“Yes. I know which way to go.”
“We have to hurry. Using the mark leaves us exposed.”
Caddy’s connection to the Dreamers was palpable. It drew her toward them by an invisible cord, growing stronger with every footstep. Eventually, she found them, standing in a group among the trees.
April’s face brightened when she saw Poe. “We waited when we felt the mark,” she said. She squeezed Caddy’s hand and whispered, “I’m so glad you found him.”
The Dreamers set out through the woods, the sun casting long shadows behind them. At a cluster of sheltered stones, they stopped and took their places for the night, hunkering in small groups between the rocks. A man and a woman kept watch. There would be no fire.
To Caddy’s relief, Poe stayed close, curling next to her. April did too, taking a place next to Poe. Caddy secretly hoped April didn’t like him too much. This thought made her feel selfish and she pushed it away. She drew her hands into the sleeves of her jacket. The ground was cold. There were things crawling beneath her. She was hungry. It was the first time she’d thought about food in hours. She checked her pocket for the bread she’d stashed from the cabin. It was a soggy mess from her swim across the river. She tossed it and settled in. Her hands started to shake, and the smell of burnt toast filled her nostrils. She moaned.
Poe put his arm around her as the bad feeling took her under. She tumbled alone into the Emptiness, Poe’s voice calling her from somewhere far away, telling her everything would be all right.
When she returned, shivering and dazed, Poe was still holding her.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She nodded. If only she could stop shaking. He held her close, the warmth of his body a comfort against the cold.
“Sleep,” he said. “You’re safe now. I’ll watch over you.”
At dawn, Caddy woke to someone jiggling her shoulder. It was Poe, red rimmed with exhaustion. Had he slept at all?
“It’s time to go.”
Caddy pushed the hair from her eyes. “You should have woken me earlier.”
“I thought you could use the rest.” He gestured at some bushes. “If you need to go, you should do it now.”
Caddy squatted half asleep behind the bushes before joining Poe and April with the others.
“Do we know where we’re going?” she asked.
“No.”
For hours, the Dreamers walked, stopping only when they reached a gravel road that cut a parched swath through the trees. They hid in the underbrush, mosquitoes swarming, relentless. Caddy retreated like a turtle inside her jean jacket. The sun pressed against her back. She was dirty and hungrier than ever. They all were. Poe kneeled next to her, watching. April looked tired and nervous.
After a while, an engine could be heard grinding down the road. A yellow school bus rounded the corner, dragging a small tornado of dust behind it. One of the Dreamers waved, signalling the driver. The bus slowed and stopped, and the door flapped open. The Dreamers boarded, weary and wordless. Caddy stayed close to Poe, taking a seat at the back by a window. April shadowed her, sitting on the other side of Poe. When everyone was on, the driver closed the door and shifted into gear. A woman took charge, handing out glass mason jars of water and knots of white bread from a cloth sack.
“There’s more if you need it,” she said to Caddy.
Caddy politely declined. She wouldn’t take more than the others again. No more special treatment. She held the bread to her nose. The sweet smell of yeast and flour made her feel faint. She wanted to stuff the bread down, but her stomach was sour, so she took small bites and chewed thoroughly before swallowing. The water was warm and tasted of metal and glass. She sipped it, slowly, and secured the lid, holding the jar in her lap as she rested her head on the window. Poe reclined beside her, legs stretched out in front of him. April slouched next to him. They slept, the three of them, rocked by the movement of the bus.
The sun was high by the time Caddy woke. Poe and April were already up. The bus was trundling along a dirt lane through an expansive meadow of wildflowers and waving grass. It cranked to a stop where the lane narrowed into a meandering footpath. The driver opened the door and the Dreamers straggled out. Caddy stepped down into a sea of green and gold. Where were they?
Caddy and April trailed in Poe’s footsteps, snaking single file with the rest of the Dreamers to a small hill that rose above the ground in a low arc. The path curved down a set of stone stairs to a strange house that peeked out from the hillside like the bleached eye socket of a half-buried skull. Inside, there was a single, large room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the meadow. It was cool and subdued, the smell of incense and wood smoke hanging in the air. At the centre of the room was an open stone fireplace. The floor was terracotta tile, with several rugs dotted here and there. The Dreamers sat, claiming places on the floor. Caddy, Poe and April sat together in a corner, an inseparable group now. When everyone was gathered, the woman who had handed out water and bread on the bus stood and spoke.
“There’s food and a shower with hot water. Let’s make ourselves comfortable.”
Hot water. Caddy felt hopeful for the first time in days. Maybe there was even a toothbrush. If there was, she would steal it. She laughed to herself at the idea. The door to the house opened and Hex and Red walked in. Red’s expression was as bleak as a winter sky. Caddy tensed warily. What was coming?
“It’s me she’s looking at,” Poe said. “Not you.”
Caddy’s eyes skipped to the bloodstains on his shirt. “Do you think she knows?”
“I’m sure of it.”
A RARE AND UNEXPECTED OPPORTUNITY
Francis and Skylark returned to headquarters to find Timon sitting behind the desk, brow furrowed. He launched in immediately.
“Where’s Kenji? He’s not picking up.”
Francis grunted. “Did you check the bar?”
Timon glowered at Skylark, the Elusive Ephemeral clinging to her, its presence reduced to a band of near-visible energy. “What the deuce is that?”
“What do you think it is?” Francis answered.
Timon’s eyebrows practically leapt off his forehead. “Don’t be impudent. I know exactly what it is. How the devil did she come upon it?”
Francis deflected. “Isn’t it great? It likes her.”
The bow glistened. Skylark hunched her shoulders, making herself as small as possible beneath Timon’s caustic stare. Apparently he didn’t share the old man’s enthusiasm.
“That’s a precious artifact,” Timon said. “Who gave you clearance?”
Francis pushed his Stetson back on his head. “Come on, T, this is incredible. No one’s ever carried the bow before.” He pointed at Skylark. “You should see her shoot. She’s a natural.” He gave a high whistle.
Timon flipped. “We’ll discuss this later! There’s been an unforeseen development. One of the Nightshades procured a soul—a grey man. We were able to extract some information before it was interred.” He conjured a slip of paper from his vest pocket and held it out between two fingers.
Francis took the paper and opened it. “What’s this?”
“A date, obviously. A very important one. Intelligence went to great effort to secure it. The Speaker will appear at that time, at those coordinates. I want you and Kenji there immediately.” He gestured at the paper. “Destroy that.”
Francis burned the paper with a quick motion of his hand. “I’d like to bring Skylark.”
She looked at him in disbelief. Sebastian gripped her s
houlder.
“The girl?” Timon blustered.
“We’ve been practising,” Francis said. “You should see her with Ol’ Silver. It’s like she was born to it.”
Skylark shrank. She wasn’t prepared to be put on the spot. And Francis failed to mention the incinerated trees and the targets she’d already ruined.
“Ol’ Silver?” Timon said disdainfully. “I wish you wouldn’t call it that. The Elusive Ephemeral is a mystical creature.”
Francis didn’t let up. “It’s like it was made for her, T. Look how it fits …” He spun Skylark like a doll.
Timon waved him quiet. “This isn’t a practice session. This is a rare and unexpected opportunity. We lost half a dozen men transporting that soul, not to mention the three others obliterated during its interment.” His eyes grew distant. “Such evil I have never seen …” He shook it off and collected himself. “There’s only room for two on this trip. The portals have already been arranged. We’ve been given a very small window of time. You’re to take Kenji.”
“This is kind of last-minute,” Francis said.
Timon slammed his fist down on the desk. “Don’t test me, Francis!”
The cowboy rocked back on his heels. Skylark made herself even smaller, wishing she could disappear.
“No more arguments,” Timon said. “Just find Kenji. And don’t botch this up.” He vanished with an angry whip crack.
The moment he was gone, Skylark turned to Francis. She knew by the look on his face what he was thinking even before she spoke, but she asked anyway. “What are we going to do?”
“You and me—we’re going to meet the Speaker together.”
Sebastian jumped in. “What about Timon? Did you listen to a single word he said?”
Francis addressed Skylark overtop of the mouse, ignoring him completely. “The Speaker won’t be expecting you. We’ll have the element of surprise on our side. He’s familiar with Kenji’s signature—with both our signatures. If you show up, it just may throw him for a loop. That’ll be the advantage that wins the match.”
“I don’t like this,” Sebastian protested.
Skylark couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The cowboy really intended to go through with it. “But … I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. I’ve never done any of this before. I didn’t even finish basic training.”
“This is suicide,” the mouse groaned.
Francis squinted at her. “From what I’ve seen, you don’t need much training. You’ve got what I’d call ‘natural proclivity.’ ”
“Natural proclivity!” The mouse nearly fell off Skylark’s shoulder. “She has no experience with demonic entities!”
Francis kept going. “We’ll have to get you suited up. Best to go in prepared. We haven’t got much time. Come on.”
This must be a joke, Skylark thought, but Francis was already tramping out the door and down the hall to a cluttered room that looked as though it hadn’t been cleaned in a millennium. Kicking boxes aside, he cleared a path to the closet. He opened the door and dragged a large black wooden chest from inside. The chest was a plain steamer trunk with a big brass latch and thick leather straps securing the lid. He unfastened the buckles and popped the latch. The hinges creaked. A waft of musty air rose from inside. Skylark looked at the contents. All she could see was an unimpressive jumble of old leather pads.
“It may not seem like much,” Francis said. “But this kept me safe when I was starting out.” He reached in and produced a worn, medieval-looking chest guard.
The mouse scoffed. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
Skylark stared at the chest guard. The mouse had a point.
Francis held it up to judge the size and a strap fell off. “Oh.” He turned it around and the chest guard flopped like a wilted carrot. “You won’t win any fashion shows with this, but it’s not so bad …”
The mouse scrambled to the top of Skylark’s head. “Not so bad? It’s dismal!”
Skylark couldn’t mask the look of dismay on her face. Sebbie was right. Francis caught the look and tossed the chest guard back into the trunk. He kicked the lid shut with his cowboy boot and exiled the trunk back to the closet with his heel.
“How about we get something a little fresher?”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Skylark agreed.
“I know just the place.”
“Great,” the mouse said, his voice dripping with derision.
Francis was unfazed. He reached for Skylark’s hand, then stopped himself. “I’ll give you the coordinates if you want to jump on your own.”
She took his hand. “It’s okay.”
They touched down in the middle of a busy studio, silver beings sewing and measuring while groups of sober-faced Warriors waited to be outfitted with new armour, their lions lying patiently at their feet. There was an air of anticipation and urgency. Skylark kept her head down, hoping no one would recognize her.
“Must be one hell of a manoeuvre going on,” Francis said.
Sebastian sniffed with indignation. “You’ll never get served without an appointment.”
Francis paid him no attention. They stood in the middle of the hubbub, invisible, until the old man finally approached one of the beings.
“Excuse me …”
The being whisked past, oblivious. Francis hailed another.
“Excuse me …”
This one didn’t even make eye contact. Francis stepped in front of an imperious-looking being who regarded him as though he were daft. He confirmed this by speaking with his mouth.
“Can we get some help here?”
The being gazed around the room for full effect then trained its sights on the cowboy. “As you can see, we’re quite busy,” it telepathed. “Do you have an appointment?”
“Ha!” the mouse laughed smugly.
Francis raised his eyebrows, preparing to spin a story, and was cut off immediately.
“Take a number.”
“I told you,” the mouse quipped. “Some places have rules—and they follow them.”
“We haven’t got time for this,” Francis yelled across the room, causing a scene. “We’re on a special mission!”
Skylark withered with embarrassment as a different being materialized before them.
“Outbursts won’t be tolerated,” it snipped.
Francis strode off, muttering to himself with frustration, and snatched a number from the machine. When he returned, he pointed at the mouse and gave it what-for. “Not another word out of you.”
The mouse retreated into Skylark’s hair. Francis rocked impatiently on the heels of his cowboy boots, twisting the hairs of his beard. It made her feel guilty. She didn’t want to make trouble for anyone. Besides, what good could armour really do? If the Speaker was as devious as everyone was making out, armour afforded little comfort to a recruit with zero experience.
“We can go without it,” she said.
Francis punched his cowboy hat to the back of his head. “No way. I’m not throwing you into the mix unprotected.”
“I don’t understand why we have to get these guys to make something,” she said. “Can’t we just conjure it from the ether?”
The mouse clucked his tongue. “Oh, good gracious, no.”
“Armour is different,” Francis said. “It takes special care and precision.”
The whole thing was getting far too serious. What Skylark really needed was a way out of this deal altogether. “Maybe you should just go with Kenji like Timon said.”
“I can’t get hold of him.”
“Did you try?” the mouse asked.
Francis closed his eyes and attempted to contact Kenji, only to thrash back to the surface. “See? The guy is never around when you need him. He does this all the time. You don’t know him like I do. He’s not reliable.” He was gearing up for a full-blown attack on Kenji’s shortcomings when their number was called. “Ah ha!” he gloated, jabbing a finger at the mouse. “Never get served without an appointmen
t, huh? Shows what you know.” He took Skylark by the arm and hustled her over to where a silver being stood, tape measure draped over one arm. “We need armour, stat,” Francis said. “The strongest thing you’ve got—but light.”
The being walked around him, evaluating his physique. “What type of entities will you be engaging?”
Francis jerked his thumb at Skylark. “Not me. Her.”
The being paused, scrutinizing her shape. Its eyes trailed along the healing cord on her arm. “How … unusual. I’ve heard about this one. Caused a lot of concern.”
Skylark started to say something smart but Francis shut her down with a look. “We’re in a hurry here.”
The silver being advanced, tape outstretched. As soon as it got close, the Ephemeral lit up, scrolling through its colours. The being recoiled.
“What is that?”
Skylark clasped the string of the bow protectively. “It’s my weapon.”
“You’ll have to remove it.”
The bow clung to her, curling around her like a mink. “I can’t.”
The silver being looked to Francis for help. The old man scrubbed his beard.
“Is there any way you can do your measuring around it?”
The being thought about this for a moment. “What about the mouse?”
“Just knock him out of the way.” Francis picked the mouse up by his tail and stuffed him into his pocket.
“Hey!” Sebbie cried.
Somewhat satisfied, the silver being pursed its lips, raised its tape and advanced as though Skylark were a rattlesnake. It measured in quick bursts, here and there and around, then zipped its tape shut. “What type of entities will you be engaging?” it asked again.
“The worst kind,” Francis said.
The being stared at him, waiting for proper information.
“The kind that have a lot of dirty tricks up their sleeves.”
“Weapons?”
“Energy bolts.”
“I have an intuitive composite hyper-alloy membrane,” the being said. “Very light and resilient.”
“Perfect.”
It waved its hand and another silver being arrived with the fabric, placing it on the cutting table. The two beings hunched over the cloth, cutting and discussing quietly between them. Occasionally, one or both would throw a look at her. Francis paced, arms folded, boots clomping back and forth across the floor while the mouse sulked in his pocket. Skylark trotted to keep up with him.
