“It’s the fallow spot, isn’t it?” I asked uncertainly.
“Yes, but...” He held out the photo with the writing on the back. “Can you see the barn in the distance. And beyond it a house?”
“Yes?”
“It’s the house I was raised in. Ma’s house.” Griffin swallowed. “If the Fideles are there...she’s in terrible danger.”
Chapter 7
Griffin
“We have to go to Fallow. At once,” I said as I unlocked the door to our house. My mind raced feverishly, ticking through a list of things that needed to be done.
“Griffin,” Whyborne said as he followed me inside. Iskander and Christine trailed after him.
“Train schedules first,” I said. “Then we have to decide what to pack.”
“Griffin,” Whyborne repeated.
“I’m sure Mrs. Yates will look after Saul—we’ll have to stop in on our way to the station in the morning—”
“Griffin!”
I’d started up the stairs, and so for once found myself looking down on him. The light found the tiny lines creasing the corners of his eyes, the familiar curve of his lips.
“Calm down,” he said. “We need to consider this rationally and plan our next move.”
Something tightened in my chest, like a strand of barbed wire looped around my heart. “My mother is in danger.”
Christine stepped up behind him. “We know that, but we can’t help her if we don’t even know what the danger is.”
“Of course you take his side!”
“I say!” exclaimed Iskander. I ignored his protest and stormed up the rest of the stairs into the study. They didn’t understand. They couldn’t understand.
Whyborne grabbed me by the shoulder before I reached the door to my room. “Christine isn’t taking my side, blast it! There isn’t a side to take, except the one we’re all on.”
“Then let go of me and pack your bags!”
His hold tightened. “Calm down. Take a breath. We have to think this through, not go haring off half-cocked.”
I wrenched free. “When has that ever stopped us before?”
Whyborne sighed. “As you wish.” He turned to Christine. “Christine, as I can’t ask you to throw away your career by leaving without so much as securing permission from the director, you and Iskander must remain here. No, don’t protest—I’ll need you to take in Saul. And someone will have to tell Persephone that she’ll need to face the return of the masters alone, as I’ll be dead in a ditch in Kansas.”
I gritted my teeth. “Damn it, Whyborne. I’ll go by myself.”
“Don’t be absurd.” Anger flashed in his dark eyes as he turned back to me. “You are my husband, and I will not abandon you.”
“Whyborne...” The barbed wire dug in deeper. “You don’t understand. In the freight yard, Mr. Evers was fine—normal—until he saw me.”
“He was corrupted,” Whyborne interrupted. “That isn’t normal.”
“Normal in behavior, then.” I swallowed. “He said the same thing as Odell. ‘You’ll pay for what you did.’ Then he attacked me. He behaved as though killing me was more important than preserving his own life.” I spread my hands helplessly. “Even Delancey asked to see me when he wrote to you. Whatever is going on in Fallow, it’s connected to me in some way. If something happens to Ma and it’s my fault...”
“But you haven’t even been back to Fallow in years,” Christine protested. “How on earth could this have anything to do with you?”
Iskander sat on the couch, brow furrowed. “And there’s no reason these fellows might have a grudge against you?”
“Enough of a grudge for Evers to ignore a gun at his head? To fling himself in front of a switch engine while attempting to get at me?” I sank down on the couch. “And Odell—he knew there were armed security guards right there at the museum. He’d spoken to them on his way in. Instead of surrendering or fleeing, he chose to attack me, even though he surely realized it would provoke them to fire.”
“It does seem you’d remember doing something awful enough to instigate such behavior,” Christine observed.
“We all saw the infection in Odell’s brain,” Whyborne said. “I’d be greatly surprised if either man was in his right mind. Perhaps their rage was due to that, rather than anything Griffin actually did?”
“You could be right,” I agreed. “And if they were Fideles—if they were recruited when the cult came to Fallow to drill—they may simply have recognized me as one of the people who prevented the Fideles from a full victory last July. Combined with the infection’s effect on their brains...”
“Right now, all we have is speculation.” Whyborne perched beside me, on the arm of the couch. “Griffin, listen to us, please. Allow Christine to take the sphere to the director—I’m certain he’ll give her permission to investigate where it was found. I’ll look through the Wisborg Codex and the Pnakotic Manuscripts, in hopes I might discover some clue as to how to combat the corruption you described. For now, as soon as night falls, speak to the Mother of Shadows. I’ll go to Persephone. One of them might know something that will help us.”
“Quite,” Iskander said. “And even if we learn nothing, we won’t leave your mother in danger, Griffin. We’ll accompany you to Fallow.”
They were right, of course. Despite my fear for Ma, I couldn’t help but feel a rush of relief and gratitude. In truth, I had no desire to return to Fallow alone...and not only because of the dangers posed by the Fideles. Walking its streets again, seeing the faces of those I had known as a child, who remembered why I’d abruptly left town, would likely not be easy. “Thank you, Iskander. That means a great deal.”
~ * ~
I carefully took the Occultum Lapidem from the locked cabinet in my office and placed it on my desk. The irregularly-cut gem sat on a brass stand, and the light of the lone candle at my elbow seemed swallowed by its purple-black depths. Veins of red pulsed deep within, as though it were in some way alive.
A strange object to take comfort in, and yet I did. The Mother of Shadows had given it to me so that we might communicate, but also, I thought, so I wouldn’t feel alone. I had never used it to speak with her save when dictated by necessity...but I could have whenever I chose, and that mattered.
I’d convinced Whyborne it was safe to leave me unguarded while he went to the beach and spoke with Persephone. The memory of his worried expression cut deep, though. I’d wanted to lighten his burdens. Instead, I’d added to them.
I blew out the candle, plunging the room into darkness. It was well after midnight; according to Whyborne’s rough calculations, the sun should have set in the far latitude where the city of shadows lay hidden beneath the glacier.
The gem’s facets were smooth beneath my hands. As soon as I touched it, I heard a soft whispering, as if a gathering of people stood in the kitchen or above in the study, all of them murmuring together.
The umbrae weren’t like humans, or even the ketoi. Some of them were hatched as soldiers, protecting their colony and hunting food outside. The workers took care of the young, kept the nest clean, and farmed the fungal growths that served as the mainstay of their food. All of them communicated instantly with one another via a sort of telepathy. The Mother of Shadows ruled over the nest; a queen whose intelligence was informed instantly by whatever a worker or solider discovered. They were her children; she guided them, cared for them, and ensured the survival of the nest for the next queen to take over.
We were as unlike as it was possible for two beings to be. And yet, in the grief and love we bore for our families, we’d discovered common ground.
I took a deep breath to clear my mind. Then I concentrated on my last glimpse of the Mother of Shadows, her vast, segmented body disappearing into the darkness of the great hall where she lived. On the words we’d spoken with nothing more than thought. Mainly, I focused on a single emotion, the one which had connected us in the first place.
My love for Ma, and my longing
to be reconciled with her someday.
“My child. You have need of me?”
I felt as though some tight band inside loosened slightly. Not entirely, but a notch, just enough so I could breathe again. “Yes,” I said aloud. “There is something...we think it might be a creation of the masters.”
I offered up images in place of words, as far more efficient. And felt her recoil, with the same disgust I had experienced.
“I do not know this corruption,” she said at last. “But that means little. The masters created many tools.” A flash of hatred from her, directed at the masters, the creators and enslavers of the umbrae. “You must be cautious.”
A headache began to form behind my eyes. Telepathic speech came naturally to the umbrae, but my human brain was another matter. “I will.”
“You fear for your mother.”
I hadn’t said as much, but she’d plucked it from my mind anyway. It was a relief, in a way, not to have to put so much into words. “Of course I do. She doesn’t know about any of...this.”
“She believes an illusion, that the world has been built for and ordered by humans. That what she considers reality is solid, not a thin skin stretched tight over the truth of the universe.”
I tasted blood in the back of my throat as my headache grew fiercer. “I don’t want her to learn differently. I want her to sleep peacefully, not wake screaming in the dark. I don’t want her to be touched by the pain and the fear, and the constant striving, one evil vanquished just so another can take its place.”
Grief and understanding. But: “She is not a child.”
“No,” I agreed heavily. “But once you know the truth about things...you can’t un-know it.” I shook my head. “Forgive me. I just want to protect her.”
“And what of you?” A phantom caress brushed my face. “You speak to me of the masters, of your human mother. But not of yourself.”
What could I tell her that she couldn’t already guess? I feared we’d fail, the masters would return, and I’d see everyone I loved die screaming. Darkness lay behind my husband’s eyes; he no longer laughed, and a distance seemed to be forming between us despite my best efforts to bridge it. Surely she’d already seen it all in my thoughts.
“Do not lose yourself to fear, child.” The pain in my head spiked, and the Mother of Shadows began to withdraw, our thoughts slowly spiraling apart. “Your strength has always been to see with the eyes of your heart. Do not let fear blind you, else you will surely lose that which you love most.”
Chapter 8
Whyborne
The waves crashed on the sand, rolling nearly to my feet as I paced back and forth along the strand. The full moon hung overhead, its light sparkling on the foam. Persephone sat on a tide-worn rock, her tentacle hair curling about her shoulders.
“I know nothing of this corruption you describe,” she said when I finished. Her tendril hair writhed in distress. “Or why they should wish to kill your husband.”
It had been a slim hope anyway. “Then I must leave. You’ll have to stand guard over the land and the sea while I’m gone.”
“The ketoi have eyes on the land,” she reminded me. “Or have you forgotten? I will send word to those of our blood who live above the waves.”
I stopped my pacing. “No. Widdershins is our responsibility. We shouldn’t put any more people in harm’s way than necessary.”
The moonlight gleamed from her golden jewelry. It would have looked absurd on a human woman, at least in modern times, but it fit her fierce appearance in a way something more delicate wouldn’t have. “They wish to aid us, brother.”
I shook my head and went back to pacing. “This is our fight. Yours and mine.”
“Father will help. And the librarians. As they did before.”
The scars pulled tight over my knuckles as I clenched my fists. Why didn’t she understand? “Aren’t you listening?” I demanded, rounding on her. “I’m not going to let people die just because the damnable maelstrom collected them!” I shook my head. “You didn’t experience what I did. You and I are just—just parts of this thing that the masters created so they could pass back and forth between our world and the Outside. The maelstrom isn’t human, or ketoi; it’s not even a person. It calls people here, to this place, because it doesn’t want to be used by the masters. So it hypocritically uses others.”
I kicked angrily at a shell, but succeeded only in knocking sand into my shoe. “It can’t undo what’s already been done, but I won’t let anyone else suffer on its behalf. It created you and me, so we’re responsible. No one else.”
She hissed at me, showing teeth. “You sound like a land-dweller, brother. Stupid.”
I glared at her “I beg your pardon!”
“Ketoi work together.” She rose to her feet and gestured to the waves. “We know we cannot survive alone, so we fight, or harvest algae, or hunt according to our skills.” Her teeth showed again in an angry grimace. “But just as there are those who still wish for war against the humans, there are some who desire the return of the masters. They believe the masters will give ketoi rule of the sea and drown the ships of the land dwellers. If I tried to face them alone, I would die.” Her eyes, so like my own, fixed on my face. “You cannot do this alone either, brother.”
She didn’t understand. “I’m part of something that has—has warped and perverted the lives of those I love most.” I shook my head. “Perhaps it’s different for the ketoi. Do as you wish beneath the waves, but the land is my responsibility. And I won’t debate this any further with you.”
I turned and walked away, a mixture of anger and resentment seething in my gut. As I started up the path toward the main road, however, she called out after me. “Ask your husband what he wishes. Widdershins always knows its own.”
“I wish I’d never heard those words,” I shot back.
I fumed all the way home. Of course Persephone thought nothing of ordering people around. She was a chieftess among the ketoi, after all. She probably got the disposition from Father; God knew one of us had to inherit something from him.
I let myself into the darkened house—then paused before turning on the lights. Griffin’s voice drifted from the parlor. Apparently he’d been successful in reaching the Mother of Shadows.
“I don’t want her to learn differently,” Griffin said plaintively. “I want her to sleep peacefully, not wake screaming in the dark. I don’t want her to be touched by the pain and the fear, and the constant striving, one evil vanquished just so another can take its place.”
I didn’t hear the Mother of Shadows’s answer. But then, I didn’t need to, did I?
Griffin regretted the pain and the fear, the constant striving that the maelstrom had inflicted on him. He wanted to keep Nella from experiencing such a thing—and how could I possibly blame him?
He sighed heavily, in response to some comment from the Mother of Shadows. “No. But once you know the truth about things...you can’t un-know it.”
No. No you couldn’t.
I could never unlearn that the maelstrom had brought him here. Or that I was a part of the maelstrom.
Or that he regretted the course his life had taken, and wished to spare anyone else from it.
There came the sound of him moving about in the darkened room. I switched on the hall light. A moment later, he stepped into the hall, squinting against the brightness. “Ival. What did Persephone say?”
“She didn’t know anything.”
Another sigh from him. “Neither did the Mother of Shadows. I’d hoped...but there’s nothing to be done.”
“No.” I slipped my arms around him, drawing him close. “Even so, we’ll go to Fallow and protect your mother, Griffin. I swear it.”
And perhaps...perhaps they would even reconcile. If he had her back, surely he wouldn’t need me as much. Surely he’d be content to stay in Fallow, away from darkness and death.
At least for a while; if the masters returned, Fallow would be as threatened as anywhere e
lse. He could stay and protect Nella, his cousins, whoever else needed him.
He’d argue, if I suggested he stay. Say he wouldn’t leave me to face the masters alone.
So I’d have to tell him the truth. About me. About what I’d done to him.
Griffin tipped his head back, and I kissed him softly. Memorizing the taste of his lips, the feel of him in my arms. I couldn’t tell him just yet, not until we saw to whatever threatened Fallow now.
We had a little time left, at least.
Chapter 9
Griffin
I stared out the window of the train car, the earth a flat expanse of green and dusty brown, gilded in the lowering light of the sun. A lone tree jutted up just ahead, marking the bank of Dogleg Creek. The creek marked the official boundary of Fallow. Legend had it early settlers had hung outlaws from the tree, as it was the only one on the nearby plains tall enough for such rough justice.
The tree had died at some point in my absence. Only a thick trunk still remained, its once-lush branches fallen away.
I couldn’t help but recall my previous glimpses of the tree. Today, I travelled in luxury—Niles had provided his private car, complete with plush seats, a dining table draped in white cloth, a liquor cabinet, and comfortable sleeper beds. Whyborne dozed in the seat beside me, long legs stretched out into the wide aisle. Iskander read a book, and Christine scowled at some notes she’d been scribbling.
This return was incalculably different from my first arrival. Then, I’d been utterly alone in the world, my parents and sister dead, my older brothers adopted off the orphan train at previous stops along the route. All I had left of them was Jack’s coat wrapped around my shoulders, its sleeves so long they covered my hands. I had nothing but the coat and my name when I stepped onto the depot platform.
The adults had seemed so big, so strange and frightening. I didn’t know whether to hope one of them would choose me, or to fear it. If no one wanted me, what would happen? Would I be returned to the Children’s Aid Society in New York? Or simply be put off the train at the last stop and told to fend for myself?
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