ALDER (The Underground Series Book 3)

by Melody Robinette

  Suddenly, the sound of footsteps coming from outside the library door met Autumn’s ears, and she hastily shoved the red journal beneath her sleeping cloak, closing the drawer just as the door creaked open to reveal the owner of the footsteps.

  * * *

  VICTOR took in Autumn’s wide, guilty eyes as he halted on the threshold of the library. Her arms were crisscrossed awkwardly over her stomach, and he used a minimal amount of magic to see through them, setting eyes on the object she was clutching. With a small jolt, he realized it was his journal. For a moment, he wanted to reprimand her for snooping through his things, but then he realized this was probably the best way for her to find out.

  Autumn seemed as though she might flee at any moment, her eyes darting to the open doorway behind him. Victor entered the room inches at a time, as one might approach a frightened animal to keep it from flitting away. “You weren’t in your room.”

  “Probably because I was in here.” Her words were inundated with sarcasm and her narrowed, multi-colored eyes scanned him with wary dislike. No, dislike wasn’t quite a strong enough word…more like repulsion.

  Frowning, Victor’s gaze moved to the sparkling bits of crystal on the floor and the wastebasket filled with large shards of glass. “You broke my lamp.”

  Autumn looked away from him long enough to glance almost guiltily down at the remnants on the floor before her face morphed back into one of resolute indifference. “Yeah, well, it shouldn’t have been on the corner of the desk. My cloak caught it as I was walking by.”

  Victor considered this, clearly surprising Autumn at his lack of anger at her breaking his belongings and finding her in his own private library.

  “Would you like to join me for dinner?”

  Autumn chuckled humorlessly. “You know, it’s been said that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”

  “I guess they didn’t hear that ‘energy and persistence conquer all things,'” Victor murmured with a ghost of a smile.

  “Isn’t that—?”

  “Benjamin Franklin, yes.”

  Autumn quirked an eyebrow at him. “I thought you hated all Outsiders.”

  “Not all.”

  “Mmkay. Well, I’m going to go back to my room now.”

  “You can stay if you’d like,” Victor offered. “I can have Eris bring your dinner here.”

  “No. I’m good, thanks,” she said tightly.

  Victor had expected as much. “Very well. Have a good evening, Autumn.”

  He stepped aside as she gave him a wide birth to leave the library before she halted, turning her head over her shoulder to look at him. “I’m guessing you still aren’t going to tell me why you brought me here then?”

  Unable to stop himself, he glanced down at her tightly crossed arms that he knew held his journal hidden beneath her sleeping cloak. “You’ll soon find out.”

  “How soon?”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  On how fast you read that book in your arms, he thought.

  “Good evening, Autumn,” he repeated, closing the library door behind her, the after image of her confused face floating before him like the ghost of a snapshot in the wooden door.

  18

  Forgotten Remembrances

  AVERY stormed away from Steam Springs, fuming at Luke’s naivety. Something had to be done about Victor and his soulless Shadow army. Though he wasn’t the only culprit, Avery blamed Victor for nearly all of the loss he had ever suffered in his life. Avabelle had died with her neck in his hands. Cera, Lucian, and Forrest were killed in his war. And Autumn’s death—another Shadow, though it was unclear whether Victor had planned it or not.

  Who was Avery kidding? Of course he had. It was entirely likely that he’d sickly done the same to her as he had to Avabelle, morbidly mimicking her death. Same location, same position, same Shadows. He knew Avery would connect the two worst events to ever strike his life. If it hadn’t been for the fact that Autumn’s neck was missing that trademark necklace of bruises, he’d have thought that Victor had done the deed himself.

  Why couldn’t Luke see this? Why wasn’t he doing anything about it? Some ruler he was.

  But of course, he wouldn’t be as concerned about avenging his sister’s death at the moment. He had Crystal. Avery had no one now. No one. His father: dead. His sister: dead. His soulmate: dead. His mother: as good as dead.

  All because of Victor.

  He’d hated few people in his lifetime. There had been many annoyances, yes, but no one had ever cut Avery deeply enough to make him hate. It was a strong emotion, he knew, not to be dished out thoughtlessly. His father had always taught him not to hate. “Hate is like a disease,” he’d said. “It affects a person from the inside, taking over everything, every ounce of your blood, every cell and atom…until that’s all you are. And if you spread it around too much, it can be contagious.” Avery had always remembered this and tried not to let his dislike for people turn into that disease. He tried his hardest to be tolerant, though never quite accomplishing what Autumn had so effortlessly.

  But, when it came to Victor Vaun…he didn’t care. He didn’t care if his hate for that loathsome Ellock was contagious or not, didn’t care if his disease spread throughout the entire Underground. In fact, he hoped it did. He hoped everyone hated Victor just as much as he did. Only then would they feel the ravenous need to destroy him like they should. But Avery knew no one hated the man with the emerald eyes as much as he—not even Luke.

  Without realizing, Avery’s thoughts began to shift to the past as they had grown accustomed to doing when his present pain became too much to take, which was nearly always.

  Avery and Avabelle sat together on the marble fountain located in the center of campus, both timid, first quarter elves on the first day of school, trying not to bother the much older and more impressive fourth quarter elves that walked by, paying them little to no attention.

  Avabelle leaned over to Avery and whispered, “Are you nervous?”

  “No,” Avery said a little too quickly with a forced laughed.

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Don’t be stupid, Ava. Why would I be nervous?”

  “Because this is our first day at Aspen Academy and we don’t really know anybody but each other and because I’m nervous.”

  “Just because you’re nervous, doesn’t mean I have to be nervous.”

  “Does so. We’re twins. We have the same feelings.”

  Avery rolled his eyes. He knew this wasn’t true because Avabelle felt that cutesy, yellow dresses were fun to wear on the first day of school and he definitely did not feel the same way.

  “Hey, look at that boy over there,” Avabelle said suddenly, pointing.

  Avery looked up to see an elf that seemed to be either their age or slightly older sitting at the base of a tree with his arms wrapped around his legs, looking positively miserable and terrified.

  “He looks more nervous than you,” Avery noted.

  “I’ve never seen him before. Have you?”

  “No.”

  “Wonder if he’s new here,” Avabelle mused, and Avery shrugged. “He’s really cute too. Let’s go talk to him.” Avabelle jumped up from the marble fountain, pulling Avery along with her. “Hi!” she greeted enthusiastically when they reached the boy, who jumped slightly at their sudden approach.

  “Um, hello,” he said, looking tentatively up at the pair of them with a pair of emerald green eyes.

  “Are you nervous about the first day of school?” Avabelle asked bluntly. The boy frowned and shrugged his shoulders, and Avabelle giggled. “Us too.”

  Avery glowered at her for speaking for him, but she didn’t see because she was too busy plopping her book bag on the ground and sitting next to the boy.

  “I’m Avabelle, and this is my brother, Avery,” she said, holding out a hand for him to shake.

  “Victor,” the boy said.

  �
��Nice to meet you, Victor! What class do you have first?”

  “Powers Theory,” he stated in a quiet voice.

  “Us too! We should walk together.”

  Victor didn’t agree to this, but he didn’t disagree either. When it came time for the three of them to head off to their first class, he walked alongside them as Avabelle chatted nervously. That was the day the three of them became a group of sorts. From that day on, wherever Avery and Avabelle went…Victor went too.

  Now, Avery thought of that memory as the beginning of the end. In hindsight, he always wondered what would have happened if they’d chosen to sit somewhere other than the fountain that morning. He knew, though, that Avabelle would have noticed Victor either way during first period. Everyone noticed him. Girls, mostly. But he paid them no attention. From that day on, until Avabelle’s death, Victor’s only friends had been Avery and Avabelle.

  Avery had always assumed Victor was just shy. But that wasn’t it at all. He was an Atrum—no, an Ellock—and he didn’t want to get too close to people in fear they would learn his secret. What Avery had always wondered, though, was why he had befriended him and Avabelle in the first place. What had been his motive? Did he just enjoy killing? Surely that was it.

  As Avery emerged from the steep, hilly, path onto the main road to Arbor Castle, he passed by the Healing Tree. He was so caught up in his own dark thoughts that he nearly missed Jastin sitting outside on the front steps until he heard him crying. Coming to a halt, Avery’s heart dropped.

  “Jastin?”

  Jastin looked up at Avery, not even bothering to wipe away the tears streaming down his face. “Hey,” he said thickly.

  “Did Charlotte—?”

  A new wave of tears fell from Jastin’s eyes and his shoulders hunched over, his whole body shaking. Avery forgot about his own pain for probably the first time in a month and moved to Jastin’s side, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

  “I’m so sorry,” Avery said in a gentle voice. Jastin shook his head, too upset to speak. “I’ll stay with you until they take her—her body.”

  Jastin shook his head again, lifting his face to look at Avery with pain-filled eyes. “She’s not dead, Ave. She’s alive.”

  “Oh.” Avery frowned, thoroughly confused. “Well, then why—?”

  Jastin took a deep, unsteady breath. “She woke up about an hour ago.”

  “That’s good, though, isn’t it?”

  Jastin bit a trembling lip. Avery had never seen him this upset. “Yeah, except…her memories are completely gone. She has no idea who she is, no idea where she is, or that she’s even an elf. She has no idea who I am.”

  Now Avery saw why Jastin was so upset. He tried to picture how he would have felt if he were in Jastin’s position, if Autumn hadn’t died, but had woken up with no knowledge of him. If she had woken up not knowing that he loved her, or that she loved him. And, for the first time since Autumn’s funeral, Avery realized that maybe sometimes there were things worse than death.

  19

  Dear Journal

  When Autumn reached her room after her close call with Victor in the library, she climbed onto her huge bed, sitting cross-legged with her back against her pillows. She slipped the stolen journal out from beneath her sleeping cloak and cracked the spine, her mouth falling open at the words scrawled in a familiar script inside.

  Victor Lavigne

  “Holy Petalsies,” she whispered aloud. “This is Victor’s journal.”

  Victor was the last person she would expect to indulge in the intense therapy that was journaling. And she was surprised he used his father’s surname in here rather than Vaun. Opening to the first page, she began to read, almost relieved to have finally found something that could capture her interest for more than two seconds. The first entry was clearly from when he was a young teenager—after Vyra had killed their parents, but before he’d gone to Arbor Falls.

  Entry One

  I found this journal in the old library. Its pages were blank and new, and I figured, since I have no one else to talk to, I’d talk to you. Whoever you are. I don’t enjoy talking to Vyra. Mostly because she’s afraid of me. Because I’m an Ellock. I feel guilty sometimes because I wasn’t as upset as I should have been when Vyra killed our parents. I hated Vex anyway, but I do miss Mom. They were afraid of me too, though. Even Mom was sometimes, when I’d get mad. Everyone is scared of me and my supposed powers, and I don’t even really know how to use them properly. What do they have to be afraid of?

  I’m thinking of going to see my dad soon. My real dad. The warlock. Rion Lavigne. I want to know why he left me here like this. I want to see if he’s afraid of me too. Maybe that’s why he left. Mom told me it was because the rest of the Underground wouldn’t understand and that they’d want to hurt me, which they can’t do because I’m apparently more powerful than all of them combined—somehow. I’m still waiting to see that. Vyra says that I need to exercise my powers, but I’m afraid of what they might do.

  Isn’t writing in here supposed to make me feel better? Because it’s clearly not working. I don’t think I’ll be doing this again.

  Autumn turned the page to the next entry. Clearly, he did do it again.

  Entry Two

  I went to visit my father today. My real father. I didn’t talk to him, though. I was too afraid. Because I didn’t want to see the fear in his eyes, too. I didn’t want him to cower in terror at my presence. So, I just watched him for a while. He looks like me. Our eyes are the same. Our gestures and movements are the same. The only difference is our hair color. I studied him all day from behind a pine tree near his cabin. That is…until he saw me. I know he saw me. His eyes connected with mine. But I didn’t stay long enough to hear him scream, long enough to see his eyes widen from shock. I didn’t stay. I guess I’m more like him than I thought.

  Autumn read several more entries, utterly transfixed by this strange character that couldn’t possibly have been the Victor she knew. The person who wrote this journal was thoughtful and lonely. Timid, even. He was concerned about others fearing him. He felt guilty that he’d been relieved at his parents’ deaths, relieved because they could no longer look at him in horror.

  She still had the rest of the journal to read, though. And she knew she would eventually come across the entry in which he began to change. Or maybe it would be gradual. But she knew she would come to it, because he killed Avabelle. He had spied on the Warriors and reported his findings to Vyra. And now he had killed hundreds of magical creatures, some of which Autumn had loved like family. Autumn knew he was evil, and it was only a matter of time before these entries started to reflect that.

  * * *

  VICTOR left his post by Autumn’s door and moved like smoke down the passageway to the place he’d spent most of his time over the past several months. He knocked as he always did.

  “Come in,” a voice said from the depths of the room.

  Opening the heavy door, Victor stepped inside. “How are you faring today?”

  “Better than usual,” the man answered from the shadows.

  Victor nodded distractedly. “Good. That’s good.”

  “And how is your progress with Autumn?”

  “She found my journal,” Victor answered, coming to sit in the armchair by the man’s bedside.

  “Is that a good thing?”

  Victor frowned in thoughtful silence. “I think it will be. It will help.”

  “How much has she read?”

  “Just a few entries so far.”

  Silence.

  “Has she reached the part with Avabelle?” the man asked in a subdued tone.

  “Not yet. That’s coming up soon, though. I’m not sure how she will perceive all of that. It’s not particularly good.”

  “No, that’s true.”

  Brushing a hand anxiously through his hair, Victor stood from the chair and said, “Are you hungry?”

  “Getting there.”

  “I’ll have Eris brin
g you some dinner after she visits Autumn.”

  “Thank you,” the man said.

  As Victor left the dark room in search of Eris, he paused by Autumn’s door again, using a minute amount of his abilities to peer through the thick wood into her room. Her head was bowed over the pages of his journal, her soft auburn curls spilling like a waterfall on either side of her face. One hand rested beneath her chin in concentration, the other perched on the top right corner, prepped to turn the page.

  Zooming his gaze to the words in the open book, he realized that she was only a few entries before the one he’d written the day he met Avabelle and Avery. He wondered how she had taken what she’d read so far. He could break into her thoughts if he really wanted to, but he didn’t. Some things were better left unexplored.

  20

  Forgetfulness and Black Coffee

  KYNDEL felt the reassuring squeeze of Ember’s hand in hers as they walked side-by-side up the steps to the Healing Tree. Avery had met her, Luke, and Crystal at Arbor Castle to explain what had happened to Charlotte. He’d seemed to be more alert and present than he had since Autumn’s death. She wondered if Jastin’s pain had somehow pulled Avery out of his woebegone cloud.

  But Kyndel didn’t really care about how Avery was feeling or acting at the moment. She was more concerned with the fact that she was about to see her best friend awake for the first time in weeks and Charlotte wasn’t even going to recognize her.

  Kyndel halted at the door, causing the others to pile up behind her. She revolved on her heel, her lip trembling. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “I’m right here,” Ember assured her in a gentle voice, grasping her hand even tighter if that was possible.

  “Us too,” Crystal added, clasping onto Luke’s hand. Luke and Avery nodded their agreement.