by Erin Johnson
At our raised brows, she waved a hand in dismissal. "Oh, it's just that the resettlement program was a second chance for the criminal, and the criminally poor. They were the only ones the government could convince to move to these blighted, burned, dangerous towns like ours. They gave them new identities, plots of land, new jobs—all in exchange for settling this hazardous, destroyed town surrounded by raiders. We didn't realize at first, but we survivors noticed that many people didn't respond to their names the first time you called them, and most kept to themselves and didn't like to talk about their pasts. Every now and then I'd spot a well-concealed prison tattoo. I did some sniffing around. I used my abilities to know my way around government officials' hearts, and got ahold of some records. We survivors made it our mission to document all the ones we'd lost, who'd taken over whose land, and to create memorials. It was a way to honor the dead and to remember the truth."
"The records we found in the fireplace," Hank murmured to me.
"But outside the Heritage Society, none of the other villagers knew," Junie continued. "They all thought they were the only ones hiding a troubled past. So everyone did their best to hide it, acting as respectable and upright as they could." She smiled and shook her head. "Everyone acted so good, that ironically, Wee Ferngroveshire is probably one of the safest places in the Earth Kingdom now." She snickered. "It's why they put on so many airs. Like Lady Cordelia Augusta whatever she calls herself. Makes her seem like a proper lady, right? But it's a joke. The government has tried to cover up what happened here. And not just here—in all the towns that suffered monster attacks before the treaty."
"How do you know?" Hank's brows pulled together in the middle.
She shot him a hard look. "I've talked to other survivors. People my cousin knew, those I met over the years. Same story all over, as here."
Hank lifted a brow and gave her a hard look, in return. "People know about the monster attacks. Why do you think the government’s covering something up?"
“Why did they send that man away from his home? Why did they bring in outsiders to resettle and give them new identities? Where did the monsters come from?” She shrugged. "I don't know." She looked at me. "But I suspect your brother does."
I blinked in surprise. "My brother? What would he have to do with it?"
Junie folded her arms. "Like I said, I thought he was dead until he popped into the public eye years later… though he was different then, of course."
"How do you know it's the same Horace?" A little spark of hope flickered to life in me, that maybe my Horace, my brother, wasn't the leader of the Badlands Army.
Junie clicked her tongue. "Well, he looks similar to how he did as a boy. Dark hair, big blue eyes. He's bright and clever, though that's taken on a menacing edge now. But their symbol, the fireworks they set off after an attack…."
"The giant eel?" I'd seen it once, just a few days after arriving in Bijou Mer.
"That's one of the monsters that attacked us."
I felt sick in my stomach.
"I think it's his way of sending a message." Junie lifted her palms. "But what message? And to whom? I don't know."
We sat quietly in thought for a while.
"Do you think it's someone from the government targeting your Heritage Society?" Hank finally asked.
Junie shook her head. "No. If they knew about us and wanted us gone, they'd just arrest us on some bogus charge, I suspect." She gulped. "But the records we had, of people's true identities and the stolen land they lived on, now that might be motive for murder." She shook her head. "Bridger was Governor of Moonstone Hollow."
My jaw dropped. I didn't think anything could surprise me anymore, but that did.
"The governor's mansion largely survived the attack—it needed repairs, but it was still standing. He took it harder than the rest of us. Maybe because he had farther to fall. He lost his entire family in the attack, and while I lost everything and my sweet cat Blackie, to Bridger, my losses didn't seem like as much. He resented having to work in the mine, resented Allencourt and Cordelia living in ‘his’ house. He always threatened to expose the truth that it was his mansion and over the years we always managed to talk him down."
I sighed. "Until he got into too much debt with Eddy Kinn and it was the only way out."
Junie nodded. "At least, I think he tried to confront the governor, to get the property back or to blackmail him for money to keep the governor's secret."
"What secret?" I lifted my brows.
"Albert Allencourt is the only man in town actually born into the nobility. Through family connections, he was the governor of a town way up north and he ran it into the ground by embezzling government funds. He was thrown in jail, until the government needed somebody to resettle Wee Ferngroveshire and pardoned him on condition he stay put here. If Bridger had exposed that, it would have ruined not only his reputation, but Lady Cordelia's and Pandora's, too. They'd have likely been thrown out of the mansion and Pandora's courtship with Beau Primpington ruined."
"Oh shoot," Iggy murmured.
Junie nodded. "That's right. I believe we all know who's doing the killing."
A cloaked figure stepped out of the shadows of the trees behind Junie. "Me."
28
Survivors
The wind picked up and blew the newcomer's hood back from her face, revealing wild red ringlets and dark, glittering eyes.
"Lady Cordelia," Junie said dryly.
"How did you find us?" I reached for Hank's hand and squeezed it.
Lady Cordelia's lip curled back, revealing sharp fangs not nearly as long as Francis's. "I followed the glowing green trail."
Junie started. "How? You're not a survivor."
She snickered. "No. But I have survivor blood in my system."
"Bridger," Junie breathed.
Lady Cordelia cocked her head. "I was really only looking for the old lady." She winced at Hank and me. "Shame you're here, too. Collateral damage. Sorry." She held her left hand aloft. In it, a familiar-looking vine thrashed against its magical cage. Horace had held the very same thing—monster vine.
"You killed those men? Why?"
I think Hank already had a pretty good idea, but wanted to keep her talking and give us a chance to think of some way out of this. We might possess magic (some of us better at it than others), but Cordelia was a vampire. And though she wasn't as old or powerful as Francis, she was still much faster and stronger than we were.
Lady Cordelia narrowed her eyes. "Bridger and Eddy Kinn were about to ruin everything. Bridger came to me yesterday morning with some very old, very secret records."
Junie pursed her lips. "We'd spent years piecing those together. It crushed Bridger to live as a forgotten pauper when he'd once been the governor, once had a family. He wanted to come forward, make a stink, a bunch of times over the years— we'd always convinced him not to."
"Well." Cordelia opened her eyes wide. "Not this time, apparently. He planned to show my husband the papers and demanded we hand over the house or its value, or he'd make public the records that proved he'd owned the mansion first. Of course, he didn't realize the same records proved that I wasn't who I said I was. That I wasn't any Lady Cordelia Augusta Arabella blah blah—that was just a name I made up to sound high-class. My name was Val Cobbler and I was a poor urchin who'd barely survived a vampire massacre. I didn't want to be exposed—I figured my husband would leave me and my darling Pandora would be disgraced—and just as Beau Primpington was about to propose, too." She sighed.
"And even worse, he had proof that my husband was apparently responsible for ruining a town up north. Exposing that would surely have exposed the embezzling he's been doing all these years, which I've been doing my best to remedy before anyone figures it out. I haven't survived a massacre, become undead, created a new identity, raised a baby, and become governor's wife, crawled my way out of the slums, fought off monsters and raiders to protect the town, all just to have some drunk gambler ruin it all."
"Take a breath," Iggy snarked in a low voice.
"So I bit Bridger, burned the papers, and erased his memory of showing them to me. But I can only erase the immediate moment—I knew sooner or later he'd try again. Plus he'd mentioned telling his bookie, Eddy Kinn, about it as proof that he'd pay him off so he didn't break his thumbs."
"How'd you kill Bridger?" Hank asked.
"I pulled Nancy Whitefall's name from the hat, then pretended to read Bridger's name."
The slip I'd found on the porch! It must have fallen from her sleeve after she hid it.
Cordelia sniffed. "I turned the clock back, knowing the whole party would be surprised by the fireworks. I kept my pocket watch on me. And when it was just about midnight, I convinced my husband and Uncle Bruma's other attendants to dump him in the cauldron. Then everyone rushed outside and in the hustle and bustle of the moment no one noticed when I knocked the tray of enchanted ice cubes into the cauldron, trapping Bridger below the surface." She shrugged. "Easy. It looked like a perfect accident."
I frowned. "Weren't you worried a death at your home would ruin the party and your daughter's chances with Beau? Kind of risky, right?"
"Psh." Lady Cordelia planted her free hand on her hip, the other still holding the writhing monster vine. "Hardly. Viscount Brumdy choked to death on a piece of cake at the prince's gala, and it was the talk of the town for a whole month! Anyone who was anyone had been there. I figured it'd be a source of excitement and gossip—and I was right."
"What about Eddy?" Hank prompted.
"I knew two deaths might look suspicious. Someone might not buy that it was an accident, so I knew I need an alibi. And it was just a bit of luck that the day before, when trying on dresses before the Bruma Eve ball, I'd discovered the magic mirror in the dressing room of the dress shop."
"You could see it because you'd had Bridger's blood." Junie shook her head.
Lady Cordelia clicked her tongue. "Bingo."
Junie turned to us. "The Heritage Society kept all our records in the attic and spelled the door to only open from the outside. Then we used the magic mirror, which we concealed as a portal with a spell, to get to the top. Only survivors, again, could see that it was a portal."
Lady Cordelia dipped her chin. "Very clever. So I lured Eddy Kinn to the records building by saying I was willing to make a deal to keep the information quiet. I sealed all the locks behind him, and broke his neck. The blood got me all thirsty and it was a risk, but I drank—I figured the fire would cover up the bite marks and the evidence of the mirror, too. I knew the dressmaker wouldn't say anything—she couldn't without indicting herself for the possession of a magic mirror. Quite a heavy sentence. And I knew I had that peeping Tom, Dylan wrapped around my little finger—he wouldn't say a thing about seeing me popping into the mirror and back out again minutes later. And Pandora was prattling away the whole time, cheeky thing, didn't even notice I was gone. Anyhoo—it became clear, when I broke in, that the Heritage Society had amassed a great number of records that needed burning and that I'd have to take you all out." She grimaced at Junie. "Sorry, nothing personal. But I'm a survivor—you know how it goes, apparently."
Junie clenched her fists and pressed her mouth closed tight. "I know that a good deal of surviving happens through the kindness of others, and—and that you're heartless."
Lady Cordelia sighed. "No, heart witch, you're just flustered because you can see that I'm not, in fact, heartless. I kept my beloved Pandora alive, by myself, vampire monster though I was, and I'll do whatever it takes to make her happy and safe. Including killing all of you." She stepped forward.
I panicked and blurted out, "You can't kill a prince and get away with it!"
Lady Cordelia sneered. "I think I can." Her pupils widened and grew until her entire eyes were dark as night and she crouched, ready to pounce.
"No!" I screamed.
Hank shot his palm out and pressed Iggy's lantern against his hand. Flames shot from the lantern and formed a ring of fire around us, enclosing Junie, Hank, Iggy, and me safe inside.
"Fire," I breathed. "Francis said fire could kill a vampire."
Lady Cordelia strolled closer, the fire lighting her from below and throwing stark shadows across her pretty face. “I figured your vampire might have taught you a few things about protecting yourselves. That's why I brought this." She held the monster vine up. "I took a clipping." She crouched down and set the vine on the ground, then leapt back. It immediately started to spread, punching holes through the snow and cracking open the frozen ground.
29
The Monster Vine
"I'm off to kill the other Heritage Society members now." The whites of Lady Cordelia's eyes showed all around and the reflection of the flames in them made her look crazed. She grinned, showing off her fangs, and in a blink, disappeared.
I stepped away from the vine, which writhed and grew rapidly on the other side of the ring of fire. "What do we do now?"
"Run." Junie's mouth pressed tight together.
"But if we do that," Hank mused, "soon the vine will spread to the village. It'll twist and wrench apart everything."
Junie dropped her eyes. "It's my home." A deafening CRACK sounded as the vine piled up to my height and snapped a pine tree in half. I cowered as the tree, as if in slow motion, tipped over and crashed into the forest. A screaming flock of crows rose up and disappeared into the black night, raising the alarm.
"It's my home, too." I grabbed Hank's hand. "Is there anything we can do?"
Hank shook his head. "The guards have been trying to burn away the vine that's blocking the road to London since yesterday. They say it regenerates too quickly."
I bit my lip as the vine snaked around itself, thickening and spreading. If only we could get enough fire to destroy it now, while it was still relatively small. We had the ring of flames and we had Iggy… but I doubted those were enough.
I gripped Hank's hand harder. "Wait. Iggy?"
"Yeah."
"Remember when we were in the sunken pirate ship a few months ago, and you'd nearly extinguished?"
"Time of my life, how could I forget?" he answered dryly.
"Well, do you remember how I—kind of—poured energy into you and you got bigger and hotter?"
Hank dipped his face and gave me a hard look, though his mouth twitched up at the corner. "You did that?"
I nodded.
He shook his head. "I—I didn't know that was possible."
I grinned, in spite of the situation. "And the teacher becomes the teachee."
"I think the word you're looking for is 'student.'" Iggy gave me a flat look.
"Oh, hush."
"That's incredible that you were able to do that." Hank's brows drew together as he stared grimly at the insatiable monster vine. "So, as swallows, maybe we're capable of not only channeling energy from other sources into ourselves—but also of channeling energy and magic into others." He grinned.
"Super neato," Iggy yelled over the snapping and cracking of the monster vine puncturing the frozen ground. "What are we going to do about that?"
"Should we?" I looked at Hank.
He nodded. "Let's try."
We both lifted our palms.
"Try what?" Iggy demanded.
"Hang on, buddy, you're about to be huge." I crouched and set Iggy's lantern on the ground, then closed my eyes. I searched for sources of energy, feeling them out. The forest surrounding us was full of tall, ancient, powerful trees. I pulled, a little from one tree, then another, over and over again. I funneled the energy through myself and into Iggy. My outstretched palms grew hot, my skin stinging, and I peeled an eye open.
"Hank, it's working."
He opened his blue eyes. Iggy's flamed licked up the sides of the lantern. He spread and joined the ring of flames, his little face growing large, as if projected on the curtain of fire.
"Whoa!" Iggy breathed.
I closed my eyes again and channeled more and more energy towards Ig
gy, careful not to pull too much from any one tree—I didn't want to kill the forest. I imagined myself like an extension cord, plugged into the trees and powering Iggy.
"This is incredible," Hank muttered.
I felt all warm inside that I'd done something magical that impressed him. I opened my eyes again and found Iggy's flame licked upward, as tall as Hank now. Unfortunately, the vine was still tangling around itself and had grown about twice as tall. Still, I pushed Iggy forward with my outstretched hands. His orange flames flicked at the vine and a thin stream of white smoke trickled into the air.
"I'm not hot enough," Iggy shouted. The vine continued to grow and writhe. When one of its tendrils snaked toward my parents' grave, my heart stopped. The cracking, ripping noises dimmed and a strange quiet came over me. I had just found them, my family. I would not lose the only piece of them I had, and I would not let a vine destroy this beautiful memorial to all the others who'd died.
