“Men wearing bowler hats?”
Mister Bradshaw snorted. “I don’t keep track of the fashion of everyone who sets foot in Omphalosa.”
“Ray,” Nel said, frowning.
“You know what I’m asking, Nel,” Ray said, his voice respectful and calm.
“There could be another explanation for all this,” Nel said.
Then Buck said to Mister Bradshaw in his gravelly voice, “I think what young Ray is asking is, are there agents who ever work in Omphalosa?”
“Agents? Like Pinkerton detectives?” asked Mister Bradshaw.
Buck nodded.
“Well, there’s a man who built a mill a decade or so back. That’s why them foreign workers been coming in. He had a few detectives overseeing the construction to make sure there weren’t no local trouble with the business being started.”
Nel gripped his knees, glaring at Buck and refusing to look at Ray.
“Come to think of it,” Mister Bradshaw began, but broke into a wracking cough. “Those Pinkertons …” His coughing got louder and his face turned a darker gray. “Those agents …,” he tried again, but could not get the words out.
“They … they …” Bradshaw slipped from his chair, but not before Ray caught him. Bradshaw’s horrible cough grew deeper and wetter.
“Marisol!” Nel barked, getting to his feet and clapping his hand against Bradshaw’s back. “Get that jug of water.”
Marisol rushed to grab the crock and filled Bradshaw’s mug. But Bradshaw could not drink the water, his coughing grew so fierce.
“The agents …” He choked again. Before he brought his handkerchief over his mouth, a splattering of blood hit Ray on the back of his hand. Bradshaw looked up at Ray and choked, “They … wore … bowlers.”
Bradshaw’s eyes rolled, and he passed out.
“Ray, Buck,” Nel ordered. “Get him on that cot. Bring me damp rags.”
Ray stared at the speckle of blood on his hand.
“Ray!” Nel barked.
Ray touched his finger to the blood.
“What is it?” Nel asked.
Ray looked at Nel in shock, dabbing his finger across the blood. He sniffed it and held his finger up. The smear was not red, but dark, inky black. “His blood … it’s oil!”
3
WINTERGREEN
BY THE NEXT MORNING, THE GUESTS HAD ALL HEARD about the man burning up with a strange fever. Nel tended him, trying tonic after tonic, sending Dmitry or Mattias out to find this herb or that root. But no matter what Nel tried, Bradshaw got worse as the day went on.
Bradshaw, no longer conscious of where he was or the people around him, began periodically screaming. The guests anxiously started leaving, and soon all were gone but the Everetts, who agreed to stay and help distract the children by taking them fishing or anything to keep them away from the lodge, where Bradshaw’s terrible cries unnerved them all.
As evening fell, Bradshaw finally quieted. Ray helped Nel, as they put cloth after wet cloth on the man’s burning forehead. Bradshaw’s vision failed, and he stared blindly at the ceiling mumbling about the Darkness. By midnight, he was dead.
* * *
Ma Everett fried up fish for supper the following night. It had been a long day. Mister Bradshaw was buried on a knoll beyond the millpond, and an unsettling quiet descended over the residents of Shuckstack. As Ray sat down at the table, weary and exhausted, he noticed that Nel had not joined them.
To be certain, someone would have to see this Darkness. That would mean going west. All day—as he had helped Buck dig Bradshaw’s grave, as he had covered the man with earth—he had been thinking about the strange story. With sick reluctance, Ray realized there was nobody else from Shuckstack who could go. He had to find out. He had to go to Kansas and investigate the Darkness.
The following morning, Ray was helping Mattias and Sally till the garden plot. The topmost crust of earth was still brittle with frost, but below, the dark, moist soil crumbled easily around their hoes. As Mattias and Sally discussed what vegetables to plant, Ray saw Nel walking along the far bank of the millpond.
“I’ll be back,” Ray said, leaning his hoe against the split rail fence that bordered the garden.
When Ray rounded the millpond, Nel had already disappeared into the forest. He was easy to track. Ray scanned the brown carpet of leaves until he found the circular breaks made by Nel’s wooden leg. He knew he was following the right path, as ferns, flattened with Nel’s passing, were slowly rising back into place. Soon Ray caught up with Nel kneeling to collect a bright cluster of wintergreen.
“Making a Gambler’s Hand Rub?” Ray asked.
Nel shook the loose dirt off the roots and wrapped the herb in a wet cloth before placing it into his sack. “No, Missus Maynard’s still got plenty on her shelves.” Nel took Ray’s hand as he stood. “Have you noticed any cinquefoil around?”
Ray nodded. “I think there should be some over this way.” He led Nel toward the creek that fed the millpond. Pushing back the leaves and ferns, Ray exposed the early shoot of a plant with five leaves. “Five-finger grass?”
“That’s the one,” Nel said. “Still too early for the flowers, but take some of the leaves.”
Ray plucked the small leaves. “Cinquefoil’s for gambling also. You planning a card game with Mister Everett?”
Nel chuckled. “You’ve picked up a thing or two from me about my tonics. I’m glad I’ve taught you something. No, these aren’t for me. Wintergreen and cinquefoil are good for gamblers’ luck, but they’re protective herbs also. Good for those making long journeys.”
Ray turned sharply. “Are these for me?”
Nel’s careworn face tensed as he nodded. “To protect you from the Darkness.”
Ray didn’t reply. Nel continued walking, looking around at the trees. “The ash tree,” Nel pointed up the slope. “Also good for safe travel. Ensures that those who leave will also return.”
Ray followed him. “I didn’t think you’d want me to go.”
“I didn’t. I don’t.” Nel pushed a hand to his knee above the wooden leg as they climbed through the forest. “But we have no choice. Ray, I didn’t want to believe that the Machine was still powerful. I believed … I hoped that with the Gog’s death, the Machine was, for all good purposes, dead with him. All I’ve wanted is for you and the others to be safe here at Shuckstack.”
He sighed before continuing. “But that’s changed. Bradshaw brought a piece of the Darkness, a sign of the coming threat of the Machine, to our very doorstep. It fills me with a deep and weary sadness, Ray, but I have to finally face the truth.”
Ray was not sure if he felt relief that Nel finally agreed with him or sad that he was right all along about the Machine’s threat. “What do you want me to do?”
“Go first and find Redfeather and Water Spider. I trust Water Spider’s counsel. He is wise, and I’m sure he has been looking into what is at the root of this Darkness. Meet with him. Then find out what’s going on in Omphalosa. Investigate the town and the Darkness. See if these agents are really Bowlers or ordinary Pinkertons. Be careful. No unnecessary risks. I want you two to come back safely—”
Startled, Ray asked, “I’m not going alone?”
Nel’s wooly brows lowered over his eyes. “I’m sending Marisol with you.”
“Marisol?” Ray asked.
“Yes. She was the one who convinced me that you two needed to go investigate the Darkness. She said you’d already discussed it, and that she was joining you.”
Marisol! With all that had happened, Ray had forgotten about his promise to Marisol.
“You act surprised,” Nel said.
“I am,” Ray said as he followed Nel through the forest. “I told her I’d take her with me on a trip, but that was before Bradshaw arrived. I didn’t mean to take her on something like this. What about Buck? Why can’t he help me?”
“Buck can’t risk leaving Shuckstack now. He’s wanted for the murder of a law man. He can’t
go, not with a bounty on his head.”
“Si, then!”
Nel shook his head slowly as he placed the cinquefoil and wintergreen in a small pouch. “I wish she could. She’s still too weak, Ray. If she travels now, if she comes in contact with that illness from the Darkness, she might not recover. It’s too much of a risk. No, Marisol will go with you. I wish she didn’t have to, but it is the best of a bounty of bad options.”
Ray looked down at his feet as he walked.
“Have faith in her, Ray,” Nel said. “I think we have all underestimated Marisol. I especially have been guilty of it. She will prove herself.”
Nel reached the ash tree. He bent to collect several of the leaves lying on the ground. Crushing them in his hand, he sprinkled them into the pouch.
“Ray, the Nine Pound Hammer is broken. And so we have no means to destroy the Machine. You’ve become a powerful Rambler. But make no mistake, son, you cannot destroy the Gog’s Machine.”
Ray considered this for several moments before replying, “Then who will, Nel?”
Nel handed the pouch of protective charms to Ray. “That is an important question, isn’t it? I’ll seek Mother Salagi’s counsel. Come on. Let us get you ready for your journey.”
“When I said you could come with me sometime, I meant here,” Ray said. “Just out into the mountains for a few days.”
Marisol had her dresses and supplies spread out on her bed. Javidos coiled on her quilt and darted his tongue at Ray. In the next room, the kitchen was noisy with the voices of the children and the clattering of Ma Everett cooking supper.
“He wouldn’t have wanted you to go otherwise,” Marisol said.
“I don’t need Nel’s permission.”
Marisol opened the clasps on a floral-patterned valise. “You needed his blessing. Now you’ll both feel better about your going.”
“But why do you want to go?” Ray lowered his voice.
Marisol cut her black almond eyes at Ray as she folded a dress to place in the valise. “Don’t you remember what we talked about?”
“Of course, but—” Ray shifted.
“Don’t you think I’m brave enough?”
“Yes, but—”
Marisol aimed a finger at his nose. “I was there when we faced the Hoarhound. I was there when we fought the Gog’s agents on the Ballyhoo. I have courage, Ray.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then what are you saying?” Marisol asked, putting her hand on her hip. At Ray’s hesitation, she added, “If you don’t want me to go, just say so.”
“I just want you to be sure you know what we might be facing.”
“I know, Ray. As well as you, anyway.”
Ray shrugged. “Then I suppose we’ll leave in the morning.”
“I’ll be ready.” She nodded and turned back to her packing.
Ray passed through the kitchen to go upstairs. He traveled with very little, but he decided to gather what few supplies he would need. “Supper’ll be ready in about half an hour,” Ma Everett called as he ascended the stairs.
At first Ray thought the loft was empty, but then he noticed Sally at the far end reading by the solitary window. Coming closer, he saw The Incunabula of Wandering open in her lap. Sally seemed frozen, almost as if she were in a trance, the way she always appeared when she read the book. She turned the page with a quick flick of her hand, and then returned to her statue-like state. She did not even realize Ray was standing behind her chair until he brushed his hand across her hair.
“Ray!” She looked straight up and then pulled herself around sideways in the chair.
Ray’s eye fell on the open page, to a long poem.
“What are you reading?” Ray asked.
“Oh,” Sally said, tracing her fingers along the lines. “It’s this song, called the Verse of the Lost. And look here. It says something about the Elemental Rose in this line. Remember what that Cherokee elder said? Father helped figure out what the Elemental Rose was.” Sally eyes shone with wonderment. “What do you think the Elemental Rose is?”
“I wouldn’t know, Sally. I’ve never understood poems very well.”
“The Verse of the Lost isn’t a poem,” Sally continued. “Not in the real sense. I just want to figure out what Father was—”
“Sally, I need to tell you something.” She opened her mouth to continue, but Ray spoke first. “I’m leaving in the morning.”
Sally’s eyelashes batted against her cheeks. “What? Where are you going?”
“Kansas.”
“Th-the Darkness,” she said, her voice pitched with anxiety. “I heard Si talking to Buck about it. They said the Darkness killed Mister Bradshaw!”
“Don’t worry,” Ray said, touching a hand to the toby beneath his shirt. “Nel made me a protective charm. I’ll be fine.”
She grabbed his hand, squeezing it hard. “But why are you going, Ray? Is this about the Machine?”
“We have to find it—”
“But you need to cross to reach it.” Sally spoke rapidly, desperately. “Can’t you stay here and keep working on learning how to take animal form? You don’t have to go out there to learn to cross. Once you learn, then you can just cross from here. You could find the Machine from anywhere. Then you can destroy it. You don’t have to go out to that Darkness.”
“It’s not like that, Sally,” Ray said, moving around until he knelt before her, resting his arms on her knees, holding her hands. “Do you remember last fall when I went down to Georgia?”
Sally lifted her chin with the slightest nod.
“I met a Creek Indian, Aunt Harjo. Her grandfather was a Red Stick, a powerful medicine man. She said her grandfather had learned how to take animal form and to cross into the Gloaming. She told me from what she understood that places within this world corresponded to particular places within the Gloaming. And to move within the Gloaming was to move within a world that followed no map. If I’m to reach the Machine, I must cross at the location where Grevol placed it. I have to find its source in our world first.”
“Kansas,” she said softly. “You think the Machine is in Kansas?”
“We’ll find out.”
She leaned forward, hugging him tightly. “I don’t want you to go,” she whispered.
“I’ll be okay.” Ray held her a moment before saying, “I need you to do something for me, Sal.”
She pulled back. “What? Look something up in the Incunabula? I could find out if—”
“No, it’s something I need you to keep.” He opened the buttons at his collar and pulled up the toby. “The rabbit’s foot.”
He took out the golden foot. Mother Salagi had told Ray to keep it safe. He could not risk bringing it with him into the Darkness. If the foot was to be safe, it should stay at Shuckstack.
“Remember what’s in this rabbit’s foot?” Ray asked.
“A lodestone?”
“From Father. He gave it to me before you were born, the last time I saw him. He told me the lodestone would lead me back to him. It did. It led me to him when it became the rabbit’s foot. Now I’m giving it to you so you’ll know that I’ll return safely. Will you keep it safe?”
“Of course.” She leaned forward once more, hugging him, squeezing him like she wouldn’t let him go. “I’m scared,” she said.
“Don’t be.”
Her soft cheek was pressed against his. She smelled of Shuckstack, of a nice wood fire and spring flowers and the spicy herbs drying in Nel’s room. She smelled of the sweet smell of his home.
“But Father …,” Sally whispered. “He never came back.”
“I’ll come back.”
She released him enough so that she could see his face, her large eyes searching his. “You will? You promise?”
Ray put the rabbit’s foot in Sally’s cupped palm, closing her fingers over it. He squeezed her hand. “I promise.”
4
THE SLEEPING GIANT
CONKER SLEPT AT THE BOTTOM OF
THE WELL.
Five fathoms deep and filled with clear green spring water, the well was known to the sirens as Nascuits ai Élodie or Élodie’s Spring. It was a place of healing—secret, secluded, and sacred.
Élodie’s Spring lay in a recessed marsh surrounded on three sides by rock outcroppings. To a wanderer, the base of the bluff would look overgrown with a wild tangle of ferns and cattails and the skein of jeweled spiderwebs. No spring could be seen bubbling from the rock. And even if a wanderer had chanced upon the overgrown corner of the wild, he or she would have felt inexplicably compelled to continue traveling. Unless that traveler was a siren.
When Jolie had at last found the spring, she had pulled Conker’s body down into the healing waters. She wove a blanket of reeds to cover him and pinned the edges with large stones to keep him from floating to the surface.
There he slept. Jolie did not know how long it would take for him to heal.
When she had first reached the spring, the woods were green with high summer. Soon autumn fell, and red and copper leaves blanketed the silver outcropping surrounding the well.
Jolie watched and waited, swimming down several times each day to check on Conker. He slept, and she could only hope he was healing.
The winter brought little snow but cold nights, and Jolie often slept in the spring’s waters by Conker’s side. His body was beginning to mend. She could feel it as she touched his chest and muscles and bones. But he did not wake.
And at last—after so long on Jolie’s lonesome watch—spring arrived. And with it so did her first visitor.
Electric green leaves wove a canopy over the well. In the shade, Jolie sat mashing cattail tubers that she had boiled for her evening meal. Something or someone was watching her.
Were the months of isolation driving her to invent worries? She considered it even as she listened for a footstep or a snap of a twig. All she heard was the chatter of the birds, the cedar waxwings and martins, gathering at the siren spring’s headwaters.
She turned her head a fraction and sniffed as she continued to crush the warm white tubers with the whittled spoon. She could smell nothing unusual to the sheltered spring. Her senses told her that something had approached the well, but maybe it was just a deer or wandering bear. It couldn’t be a person.
The Wolf Tree Page 4
