Chapter Ten
Moonlight bathes the caved roof of the abandoned manor house in silver light.
Even after the sun has set, balmy heat stifles the air, and dead grass crunches underfoot as our group passes through the cemetery to the left of the estate, weaving between cracked, blanched tombstones strangled by weeds.
The manor looms, casting shadows over the monuments, but as my eyes adjust to the dark, I manage to read a few of the names.
These people lived here, I think. This was their home.
Now it’s nothing more than a house, haunted by the dust and bones of the people who once laughed, and danced, and dreamed within its walls.
I think of Bludgrave Manor, sitting empty all but for the two guards, Gylda and Hugh, who stayed behind when the rest of us made the journey to Castle Grim.
What’s become of them, I wonder? When no one returned, did they abandon their posts?
After Calantha and the Underlings took control of the Eerie, did the queen send soldiers to Bludgrave?
Did they arrest Gylda and Hugh for their association with the Castors? With me?
The wind howls, cutting through the skeletal black trees.
A low, chilling moan comes from the manor house as it seems to sway, and I tense when I think I see something move out of the corner of my eye—a dark figure standing near a door that looks as if it was torn from its hinges ages ago.
But I blink, and the figure is gone. Still, the wind seems to whisper, brushing against my ear, He’s here.
I touch the band of braided leather at my wrist. After what took place at Castle Grim—after Morana had so easily disarmed me of the trinket—I know it can’t protect me the way I once believed it could.
And without the enchantment around my heart—now that the Shifter’s venom flows freely through my veins—I’m certain that if the Underling general were to emerge from the ruins of the manor house and command me to slaughter my traveling companions, I would be powerless to disobey.
But he doesn’t.
And as we leave the manor behind, entering the sparse grove at the border of the estate, Will takes my hand, and my pulse slows as a feeling of calm overtakes me.
Even if the Underling general is here—even if he’s taken the form of someone close to me—I’m not alone. Because Will is here, too. I won’t let the Changeling take me, and neither will he.
At least, not without a fight.
But by the time we approach the stretch of prairie at the edge of the grove, three miles from the estate, Will struggles to catch his breath, wheezing for air with pained gasps that rattle his chest. If we’re attacked, there’s only one way for Will to gain the strength he needs to protect himself, and I know he doesn’t wish to feed—to lose himself to the bloodlust.
Warm amber lights flicker in the distance, illuminating the leaves in their fiery golden glow.
Gabriel brings a finger to his lips as he kneels, motioning for us all to follow.
My heart races as the six of us crouch, peering through the tall grass.
Ahead, voices rise above the ticking and thumping of the idle train as League soldiers in their olive-green uniforms load and unload cargo.
I feel Will go rigid, and when I glance at him, kneeling between Henry and me toward the back of the group, he looks as if he’s holding his breath.
He sputters, struggling to hold back a bout of coughing, and Gabriel glares at him over his shoulder.
Henry scowls, patting his brother on the back, and shoots me an exasperated look before flipping Gabriel—now facing away once more—his middle finger.
In front of us, Jack’s shoulders tense. “How’re we supposed to get on board? Train’s crawling with League soldiers.”
Gabriel looks back again, this time at Henry, but Henry’s already shaking his head.
“Don’t look at me,” he grumbles. “I may be a firebreather, but even I didn’t know your sister’s little trick with the light was possible until a few weeks ago. I’ve been practicing, but the most I can do is turn small objects invisible. I can’t shield us all. I can’t even shield myself yet.”
Margaret turns to Gabriel. “What about a distraction?” she whispers.
“Go right ahead.” Henry rolls his eyes. “By all means—”
Margaret hisses, “At least I’m trying to help—”
Gabriel tries to cut across the two of them as their bickering intensifies, but this only serves to turn their attention on him.
“This was your idea!” says Henry.
“Surely, you have a plan?” says Margaret.
Something rustles the leaves overhead, and I look up. Above, a raven perches on a quivering branch, peering down at me with dark, knowing eyes.
I reach for Will’s hand, tearing my gaze from the raven long enough to see the drool pooling at the corners of Will’s mouth, dripping from his chin.…
“Will,” I murmur, my voice quiet.
A low growl rumbles in Will’s throat, and the rustle of leaves overhead tells me the raven has fled. At that moment, Gabriel and the others all turn to see Will—to see his eyes glowing red.
Gabriel reaches for the hilts of his swords, but before he can unsheathe them, the smattered pop of gunfire rips through the night, drawing our attention away from Will to the chaos unfolding near the train.
The soldiers aim their weapons no more than twenty feet to our right, where a lion emerges from the tall grass, prowling toward them with slow, measured steps.
I think of the raven, watching me from above. Owen can transform into anything, and now, just when we need a distraction, a lion appears. Could it be him?
Am I wrong for hoping it’s him?
“Shoot it!” a soldier screams just as the lion lunges for him.
His scream turns to a wail, which is swiftly silenced by a massive paw tearing a gash in his throat. Will lurches forward, but Henry grabs him by the arm, and when I touch Will’s clammy cheek, he blinks, and his eyes are green, rimmed only by a thin ring of gold.
“I’m trying—” Will starts, his teeth clenched.
The soldiers advance on the lion, but their bullets appear to have no effect on the creature. It snarls, stalking toward them.
Then, suddenly, the soldiers can’t seem to move, as if frozen in place.
“Follow me!” Gabriel whispers, launching forward. “Now!”
I take Will by the hand, dragging him along behind me. I can feel him pull right, toward the pool of blood and the lion, standing over its kill, facing down the immobilized soldiers. But I squeeze his hand tighter and follow Gabriel toward the railcar.
Gabriel reaches the train first. He throws out his hand, and the heavy metal door slides open with ease.
Margaret leaps inside, taking Jack by the hand and pulling him up into the railcar.
Henry follows, then Gabriel. My heart throbs painfully in my throat as I hurtle toward the train.
I know I’ll have to let go of Will’s hand if I’m to climb up, but he’s still pulling me, harder now.
A sharp pain tears my shoulder, and I worry he may rip my arm off.
Let go. I hear a voice, familiar, but I can’t seem to place it. You have to let him go!
Will’s fingers slip from mine as I throw myself at the open railcar.
Henry and Jack grab me by my arms, pulling me inside, and as I turn to see if Will has followed, I spot him a few feet from the open door, facing the bloody carcass, his back to us.
I can’t tell if the low, menacing growl comes from Will or the lion.
“Will!” Jack whispers as he crouches at the entrance, his hand outstretched.
Will stands perfectly still, his spine straight.
“Get in here!” Jack raises his voice, just enough to be heard over the growling. “Quickly, before they see us!”
I jump down from the railcar just as Gabriel reaches for me.
“Will,” I whisper, taking a slow, cautious step toward him, my hands straying to my daggers. “You can fight this. Look at me.”
His teeth click. He cocks his head.
I touch his shoulder.
He jolts, as if electrified. But when he whirls to face me, his eyes are green.
Not gold. Not red. Just green.
And then he’s pulling me up behind him, into the railcar—into his arms.
Will clutches me tightly, his body trembling, as Gabriel closes the metal door, sealing us in darkness.
“I’m sorry,” Will whispers frantically, his voice strained with the sobs that rack his body. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry—I—”
His words catch. He coughs, his grip on me tightening once before going slack.
Will collapses.
Inside, a dull thud as his body drops to the floor of the railcar.
Outside, a muffled pop as the soldiers seem to regain control of their bodies. We listen to their muffled shouts, followed by gunfire.
“It’s getting away!”
“Good riddance!”
We wait as they approach the railcar, their voices drawing near. I feel Henry crouch beside me, checking Will’s pulse. He squeezes my thigh once, as if to say, He’s all right. But for how long? And if they discover us and Will is unconscious…
“Poor bloke,” comes the voice of a soldier just on the other side of the door.
“I’ll send for someone to deal with the body,” says the other. He bangs his fist on the railcar. “But we’d better get going. We’re already running behind schedule.”
Beside me, Gabriel unsheathes his swords halfway, positioning himself at the door.
Tick. Tick. Tick. In the silence of the railcar, I can hear the timepiece of my compass steadily marching forward.
Finally, the train lurches, throwing us all sideways. The shrill whistle and the squeal of the tracks were sounds I once dreaded, but at this moment, I couldn’t be happier to hear the steady chugging of the train.
I exhale, relieved. We made it. We’re one step closer to the Burning Lands. One step closer to a cure.
But the relief is tainted as Henry snaps his fingers, cradling a flame in his open palm and illuminating the railcar.
Sitting atop one of the wooden cargo boxes is a single playing card.
The knave of clubs—Owen’s lucky card.
I meet Margaret’s panicked gaze as I pick it up and turn it over.
Written on its face is a single word, inked in blood.
LIAR.