The Passage to Mythrin 2-Book Bundle

by Patricia Bow

  “Yesss.”

  “Friend of yours?”

  “Friend!” She threw back her head and laughed.

  “Amelia! We will go to this party. We will have fun!”

  Still laughing, she strode towards the hut, with Amelia trotting at her heels. Simon dodged around in front of them. “I asked you a question!”

  She grinned down at him. “Answer is no.” She started around him. He sidestepped to stay in front of her.

  Ammy grabbed his arm. “Simon, don’t be a jerk!”

  “Use your head! Last night there was a blue light in that cave, made by — who knows? Then she turns up, and I know for sure she’s new — this town is small enough that I’d know. Then today we find those prints by the cave. And now we find them here.”

  “And that means what?”

  “Add it up! She’s part of some kind of...” He waved his hands in frustration. He had no idea what she was up to. But it smelled of secrets, of trickery. “Some kind of plot!”

  “What is plot?” asked the girl.

  He swung back to face her. Blinking at him like she didn’t know anything! He was mad enough to stare her down — if only he were six inches taller. “A plot is people sneaking around to make trouble for other people. You in politics, back home?”

  “Politics.” Her smile twisted. “I know that word from radio. You would call it politics.”

  “Wow.” Ammy sounded admiring. “Aren’t you awfully young to be in politics?”

  “Six days ago, I was too young.”

  “What hap—” Ammy began, but Simon couldn’t let her finish.

  “Those marks?” He pointed at the snow. “What made them?”

  The girl’s eyes sparkled. “He comes from my brother.”

  “So, he is a friend!”

  “No. This means my brother is not having things so easy, back home!” Her lips quirked.

  “Then he’s a messenger?” Ammy ventured. “He brings news?”

  “He wants you to come home?” Simon suggested.

  “That, no!” She laughed.

  Enough is enough! He met the girl stare for stare. “Look — we kept our promise. We haven’t told anybody. So why can’t you be honest with us?”

  “Hon-est?”

  “Honest! I mean, we don’t even know your name, and you know ours. Is that fair?”

  The girl stared down at him from what suddenly seemed a great height. Her head slanted back, her face looked longer and sharper. Her eyes were two green slits. Now I’ve done it, he thought. Now she’s really mad! There was a crunch as Ammy stepped up beside him.

  For a moment nobody breathed. Then the girl sighed and he’d have sworn she’d shrunk down again by eight or ten inches. “Where I come from it is not a small thing, the telling of names. But you are right. I ... what is the word ... I owe. I owe you, Amelia.” She touched Ammy’s arm. “I was a ... a stranger. And you were friend. You could let me die in the snow, last night.”

  “No, I couldn’t!”

  “We couldn’t!” Simon added.

  “I would not die, of course. I do not die so easy. But you did not know that. So...” She held out her hands. “My name is” — she took a breath — “Marathynarradin.”

  “Mara...thar...” Simon tried. “Marathin...”

  “Marin...” Ammy said. “Say again?”

  “Marathynarradin,” the girl said firmly, as if she’d made up her mind about something.

  “We’ll call you Mara for short,” Ammy said.

  “For short!” Mara’s eyes narrowed. “You would cut my name?”

  “Sure, why not? Mara’s a cute name.”

  “Cute.” Mara frowned down at her angora- and jean-clad length and let out a bark of laughter. “Why not? I am less, so why should my name not be less? Let it be Mara, then.”

  “Good.” Ammy took her hand and tugged. “Can we go down now?”

  “Yes, now!” Mara led the parade towards the hut. “There is a party. We disguise ourself.”

  Simon crunched through the snow behind them. “You know, it’s funny how fast your English has got better.”

  “Amelia gives me a radio. I talk, it doesn’t answer, so I listen. I learn. But most I learn from Amelia.”

  “But where’ll we find costumes?” Ammy followed her into the hut and down the stairs. “Wait, I know! Those boxes in 3A. There’s got to be something there we can use.”

  “You can’t! That stuff is for Boomer Heaven!”

  “Simon, it’ll be okay. Go and ask Grandmother if we can dress up, just for tonight. Say we’ll be really careful.”

  “Right,” he said. “Careful.” He felt he was the only person around here who knew the meaning of the word. As he thumped down the stairs behind them, he realized: they knew Mara’s name now, but that was all they knew. Nothing about where she came from or what she was up to. Once again, she’d avoided giving a straight answer.

  He didn’t trust her an inch.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  NIGHT OF MAGIC

  They’d been out on the street about an hour before Amelia realized someone was following them.

  She might have noticed earlier, only there was so much to see and do. Dunstone’s Night of Magic had turned out to be more fun than she’d expected. After the sun went down, the three closed-off blocks of King Street filled up with what looked like the town’s entire population.

  A band played on a stage in front of the town hall steps. Lights strung in the bare trees and between the buildings roofed the street with a golden haze. There were booths selling fries and hot dogs and apple fritters. And everywhere you looked there were buskers — a woman who played a violin, a man who juggled knives and flaming torches, three clowns who joined up to make a giant wheel and rolled around the pavement.

  Mara stared wide-eyed. “I really wonder about where she comes from,” Simon said in Amelia’s ear. She wondered too. Everything seemed new to Mara. It wasn’t just like she’d never seen clowns before, or people chipping blocks of ice into the shapes of mermaids and horses and the CN Tower, or an illusionist pulling a rabbit out of a hat. It was like she’d never even heard of clowns or ice or people who did magic tricks — never knew there were such things. She was surprised when the magician didn’t eat the rabbit.

  She’d get upset at the strangest things. When the juggler started to blow plumes of fire from his mouth, Mara growled in her throat and began stalking through the crowd towards him. Amelia caught up with her and held her arm while Simon explained that the man wasn’t really breathing fire — it was just a gas that he set alight, and he’d smeared his face and mouth with some gunk to keep from being burned.

  “So it is not real.” Mara’s arm relaxed.

  “That’s right. It’s pretend.”

  Mara attracted a lot of attention herself. Wherever you looked, somebody was staring or pointing. It wasn’t that her outfit was so astonishing. There were plenty of goofy costumes, and a few clever ones, and lots of masks, including the usual vampires and ghouls and politicians.

  One mask was actually scary, Amelia thought, though she couldn’t figure out what it was supposed to be. The face was sickly white, almost silver, and the area around the eyeholes deeply shadowed. Eyes glittered in the shadows. The second time she glimpsed it, the person slipped away before she could point it out to Mara and Simon.

  Mara was magnificent. She wore a long, sequin-covered coat that looked like a lizard’s skin, if that lizard happened to be bright red. Her hair streamed from under a scarf of gauzy gold wrapped around her head like a crown. Over her shoulders hung a silk shawl, all flame-like patterns of scarlet and orange and crimson, that spread like wings when she raised her arms. She looked as if she might take flight any moment — and burst into fire in mid-air.

  They found Ike Vogelsang snapping pictures of a small kid having her face painted. Simon tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned around. His mouth dropped open.

  “Wow! Who’s that?”

  “Um ...
Mara. Friend of Ammy’s.”

  “Really? Hi! What’s the costume?”

  “Amelia says I am firebird.”

  “No kidding. Then what are you, Ammy — a Honda Civic?” Ike punched Simon in the arm and the two of them snorted with laughter.

  “A firebird,” Amelia said haughtily, “is a bird that burns itself to death, and then comes back to life again. It gets born again out of its own ashes. And I...” She twirled to show off the shiny black plastic jacket that she’d stuffed herself into after pulling on two sweaters, and the headband trimmed with black feathers that she’d fastened around a black toque. “I’m the Raven Nevermore. So watch out!”

  “Nevermore. Right, we took that. Poe.” Ike focused on Mara and clicked. Then he frowned at the image display. “Darn it.”

  “Why aren’t you dressing up?” Amelia asked.

  “I’m on assignment. How ’bout you, Simon?”

  “Me? I’m just here to keep an eye on Ammy.”

  “Amelia. And I don’t need a babysitter!”

  “Celeste said we’re to stay together and I’m to watch out for you. So that’s what I’m doing. Like it or not.”

  In spite of Simon, it was fun. Amelia had to admit that. She bought light sticks for all of them and used hers to write her initials in big, glowing letters in the air. She bought cardboard glasses with prismatic lenses that turned all the lights into rainbows. (Mara tore hers off after one look.) Simon paid for cups of steaming sweet cider, and Ike, with silly bows and flourishes, handed around little paper bags of roasted chestnuts. Mara would have eaten hers whole if Simon hadn’t showed her how to pry the white nuts out of the smoking husks.

  There were clothing vendors to browse, too. Boomer Heaven had a booth across from the town hall, with fringed suede vests, macramé belts, and strings of love beads (according to the sign) for sale. And there behind the table was Celeste, with reindeer antlers on her head and a glowing Rudolph nose, making change for a customer.

  Amelia took Mara by one arm and Simon took the other and they hurried her across the street before Celeste could spot them and start wondering about the tall girl in the vintage red-sequined coat.

  Once they were out of sight Simon dropped Mara’s arm and walked away a few steps, glowering at the pavement. “This feels rotten,” he said.

  “What does?” Ike joined them, camera in hand. “I just got a good shot of your grandmother in her antlers. Wish I could get one of Ammy’s friend, there, but look.” He held out the camera. “She keeps moving or something. All I ever get is a blur.”

  Simon gave Mara a suspicious look. She smiled at him.

  “It’s not like she does it on purpose,” Amelia said.

  “No?” He stepped into a doorway, out of the stream of people, to peer at Ike’s camera.

  “Look at that guy!” Ike pointed with his chin. “Over there — this side of the stage. That’s some mask! I better get a shot of him.” He squirmed through the crowd to find Simon.

  Amelia looked where he’d been pointing. It was the scary mask again. It was the eyes that did it, she figured. In the shadowy sockets they sparkled as bright as the edge of a knife blade. A phrase sidled into her head: Kill you soon as look at you.

  Below the mask was a long, thin body dressed in greyish stuff that looked like he’d scrounged it out of a dumpster. He was watching her, she was sure of it. Or watching... “Mara? I think ... There, he’s gone again.”

  “I know.” Mara glanced in that direction. “He follows us since we come outside.”

  “You knew? Who is he? Oh, wait. It’s that guy your brother sent, right? The messenger.”

  “Not messenger. I have been searching for the word for him. I hear it today on the radio. It begins Ah.”

  “Assistant?”

  “No.”

  “Advisor?”

  “No. Now I have it! Ah...sah...sin.” She popped the last peeled chestnut into her mouth and crunched.

  “A...” Ammy gaped at Mara. “Assassin? Your brother sent a hit man?”

  “The Assassin.” The way Mara said it, you could hear the capital A. “A good sign. A sign of how much my brother fears me.”

  A knot of boys jostled past. Amelia grabbed Mara’s arm and hustled her out of the crowd, where anybody could come up next to you before you noticed, to the pool of quiet next to the chestnut roaster’s charcoal grill.

  “He knows where we live!” Amelia hissed. “He was on our roof!”

  Mara settled her shawl around her shoulders. “That was just to warn me. Or else we would not see his marks. He would not be so clumsy.”

  “But why would he warn you?”

  “He has some pride, this one. He is the Assassin. Not just a killer.”

  The chestnut man looked at them sideways. Amelia led Mara a little farther away, then planted herself in front of her. “This is where we show some sense and go to the police.”

  “No! You promised not to tell.”

  “But this guy wants to kill you!” Amelia looked around wildly. “And what about all these people? What about Grandmother, and Simon, and ... and...”

  Mara waved a careless hand. “He only wants to kill me.”

  “That’s bad enough! How can you be so calm?”

  “Because he is in danger too.” Her teeth gleamed. “From me.”

  Amelia shivered. For the first time tonight, she felt how useless the plastic jacket was against this bone-cracking cold, even with two sweaters underneath. “At least let’s get inside, away from this crowd.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ASSASSIN

  Amelia felt at home the minute they stepped into the new mall, the one Simon had pointed out so proudly the day before. It was small — didn’t even have a movie theatre — but in many ways it was like every other mall she’d ever been in, with walls that looked like marble but probably weren’t, and plenty of stainless steel and shining glass, and small trees in pots under skylights. It smelled of new clothes, fresh paint, and cinnamon buns. Amelia inhaled deeply.

  Hardly any people were here. Almost everybody else was out in the street, enjoying the party. That was good. If that Assassin — This can’t be happening! — if he followed them in here, they’d spot him a mile away. Or at least the length of the corridor away.

  “What is that?” Mara was staring, head high, eyes narrowed, at a man in a burgundy blazer and grey pants, as tall as Amelia’s father but twice as wide, standing next to the automatic teller. He stared back with stony eyes.

  “Mall cop,” Amelia whispered. “Don’t look at him. We’re window shopping, got that?”

  The cop turned his head slowly as Amelia and Mara strolled by. Amelia walked stiffly until they were around the corner and out of sight. “Those guys hate kids,” she muttered. “Give him any excuse and he’ll throw us out.”

  “Ah!” Mara tossed back her hair. “Good! Then we fight!” She spun on the spot and headed back the way they’d come.

  Amelia dashed after her. “No! Are you crazy?”

  Mara sighed. “Yes ... yes, you are wise.” She turned back and fell into step beside Amelia again. “I am too old now for such play. But, oh...” She stretched, spreading her shawl into wings. “How I wish for a good fight!”

  Amelia shook her head. Either Simon was right and Mara was crazy, or she’d had a very strange upbringing. “Let’s just be cool. Look at these, aren’t they pretty?” A rack of rhinestone earrings, 50 percent off, stood outside a store called Eleganz. Amelia didn’t think much of them — too dangly and fussy — but anything to distract Mara. The clerk watched them from inside the store. Amelia gave her a polite smile and walked on.

  A moment later something cool slid into her hand. She stopped and looked. A card with a pair of rhinestone earrings in it glittered up at her.

  “For you.” Mara smiled. “A — what is the word? A present.”

  “Uh ... Mara...”

  “You don’t like?”

  “Did you pay for them? Of course you didn’t.
No time.” She met Mara’s puzzled eyes. “Besides, you don’t even know about money, do you?”

  “Money?”

  “Hey! You two!”

  The mall cop was coming after them at a run. Amelia hesitated only a split second. Mara was already starting to turn back, eyes bright. Amelia threw the earrings as hard as she could back along the corridor and snatched Mara’s hand. “Run!”

  Mara laughed as she ran. Amelia sprinted to keep up. Heavy feet thudded behind. “He’s ... gonna ... catch us!” This was awful. Any second now they’d be arrested for shoplifting and Grandmother would tell her parents, and...

  “Then we slow him down.”

  Mara darted at a storefront. Pets Galore, said the overhead sign. She plunged her hand into a glass tank standing beside the entrance. Amelia jogged on the spot. “Mara, put that back!”

  “Go,” Mara said to the tiny thing in her hand. “Go and be many.” She set it down gently on the floor. It was a spotted lizard.

  “You girls! Stop!”

  Amelia grabbed Mara’s hand again and dragged her away.

  The corridor behind them filled with flickery sounds, like thousands of tiny feet on tile. Amelia grabbed a look over her shoulder. The floor and walls were ... moving. I didn’t see that! She faced front and sprinted on. Two seconds later somebody behind them screamed.

  They skidded around a corner and burst across an open space filled with little round tables and chairs. The food court. A few people were here, mostly near the Espresso Bar. Cups stopped halfway to lips as Amelia and Mara dashed past.

  Amelia looked back again. “There’s another one after us — and — his eyes —”

  “Yes, I saw.” Mara wasn’t even out of breath. “The eyes are the last thing to change.”

  “He’s — your — Assass—” She slid to a halt, because Mara had stopped short. Amelia’s feathered headband dipped over her eyes. She pushed it back.

  “Look, Amelia — firebird!” Mara’s voice rang out across the food court. She pointed a long finger at the Espresso Bar. A big shiny chrome espresso machine stood on the counter. On top was the brass eagle that Simon had boasted about. People on both sides of the counter gaped at them.