CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Evan
Thursday
10:05 pm
24 hours, 44 minutes until the falling
How do you tell your best friend she has hours to live? Or that you might be the one responsible?
I stopped digging and opened my mouth, but it hung empty and dry. If I'd been killing Roslings by making them wear rubrics, how had Henri caught the affliktion? She'd never worn the rubrics—
You let her hold the clanker, remember?
No, it can't be. The skull will show us the truth. I'll prove Mazol is the murderer. Or Dravus. I haven't blacked out since—
You were asleep for hours today.
I was locked to the staircase.
You undid the shackles.
I pushed my shovel deep into the mud, pulling clod after dripping clod from the earth. Brown, sticky sod, like blood. The rain poured down. A vision appeared in the mud. It spread, snaking up my legs and the trees and the sky until it enveloped me.
Dravus drove his old rickety cart through the castle gates into the jungles. In the cart's bed lay a splintered wooden crate with clumps of mud and dirt clinging to its side. A gravebox, large enough to hold two or three, freshly dug from the ground. It rattled. Someone was inside, someone who wasn't dead.
I stood in the cart, staring down at the gravebox. The lid lifted with a moan. Pearl lay face up with lifeless eyes, staring at me, dwarfed by the oversized box. Under her torn dress, a scarlet rash that covered her neck and arms. At her collarbone, in place of the skull pendant I'd given her, was a tattoo of a spider.
Pearl lurched at me, screaming. She scratched; her skin bled. "Take it back! I don't want it anymore!" I reached out, to stop her from hurting herself, but when I leaned forward she disappeared in a wisp of smoke. Losing my balance, I fell into the gravebox.
The lid slammed, closing me inside. I fought to escape. Panic rose in my chest. I couldn't see. I couldn't breathe.
A sense grew inside me that I was not alone. I used my hand to probe the dusky void. Something was there, smooth and cold like iced meat. Lightning flashed, filling the box through a crack.
Henri's face, inches from mine. Drained of blood, covered in rash. Her eyes snapped open. The lightning ceased; darkness enveloped us. But I could still see her eyes. Lit by flames from within.
Her lips parted, but they did not move as she spoke. "Look what you've done to me."
A thud—my shovel struck wood. I felt Henri staring at my back. Were her eyes still burning? The blood pumpery rubric pounded inside my pocket. I felt the gravebox lid, clearing off mud to find its edge. I pushed the shovel under and pried, ignoring the pain from Pearl's bite and the exhaustion and the fear of Henri's flaming eyes. With the creak of rusty nails, the lid cracked open. Pearl screamed.
I was right.
A glow flickered in the distance. An oil lantern bobbed through the longgrass.
"Who's there?" Pearl said.
"It's me, Evan."
Shadows flashed across the tree limbs above us. Then voices. I turned to Henri. "Hide!" She darted behind the balizia's gnarled trunk. The screaming Shades at the gate rose in pitch. I peeked over the mound of dirt. Two shadows approached.
"Where am I?" Pearl said.
I crouched low. "Quiet. Someone's coming."
Rain pounded in my ears. Thunder clapped in the distance. I strained to hear, surprised to find I could make out the voices over the storm and the screaming Shades.
"I thought that was the plan," said the first. Yesler.
"Do you have any idea how much danger we're in?" said the second voice—Mazol. "If we're here when Cevo comes, if he finds all the Roslings cold and stiff and then he sees we're planning to make off with the ember and the Spider and the money?"
"Cevo don't know about Evan Burl. He don't know Terillium hid the gimp here."
"But he wants that Spider bad. He'll find it eventually. And when he does, he'll figure out we've been working him and Terillium against each other." Mazol's shadow turned, moving a step in my direction. They each had shovels.
"The automatons will activate soon," Yesler said. "Why don't we just execute the gimp and run?"
"We're lucky that syringe didn't kill him." A thunder clap rang out, shaking the ground. I strained to hear their voices over the downpour, but even with my heightened senses, I was having difficulty.
"He's gonna slit our throats if we don't do him first."
"Evan Burl is our only chance of seeing the summer with our heads still attached to our shoulders. We can trade him to Terillium or Cevo in exchange for our lives."
"You're dancing with death, keeping the gimp alive, that's what I say."
"We're immanis deeper in than that. The Cultures are coming. I can feel it."
I found the shovel and crawled over to the gravebox. Something seemed to be growing warm in my pocket.
"So what are we gonna do with the gimp?" Yesler said, "if he goes crazy on us?"
I pushed the shovel under the lid of the gravebox and heaved.
"Ballard's got the cage, in case it comes to that. And we've got the automatons."
Footsteps approached. The lid lifted a half inch and I forced the shovel head in further.
"Almost there Pearl," I whispered.
I pried on the lid again. The heat in my pocket burned my leg. I yanked out the leather sack of rubrics. My wet fingers sizzled. The sack fell into a puddle at my feet. The water bubbled and steamed and hissed.
"What's that noise?" Mazol said. I stomped at the bag, trying to bury it in the mud. The water frothed; the hissing fell to a simmer. A pulsing dusk rose from the gravebox's lid. Shadows grew deeper around us. Bubbling water around my feet exploded. The leather sack shot out of the water. Mazol's lantern flickered, like its energy was being pulled to the grave. A shape rose from the gravebox—the skull pendant and necklace. It passed straight through the lid. The necklace slid into the sack like a snake into a hole.
The leather sack floated above me. I pictured the book lifting from the fire. Holding out my hand, I tried to draw the rubrics to me. Feet sloshed through the mud toward me. A rat crawled over my foot. I kicked it away. When I looked up, the leather sack was gone. Pulling an old cart, Ballard lumbered behind Yesler and Mazol drawing toward me. I pushed the shovel between the lid and the gravebox and threw my weight on the handle. Two nails popped loose with a snap.
"What's going on here?" Yesler said.
I gaped up. The crate rattled. Pearl screamed. Ballard appeared, plucked me up by my shirt, threw me at Mazol's feet. I rose. His eyes drifted to something behind me. Yesler and Ballard's necks craned back as they gawked, higher and higher.
I spun around. Pearl's gravebox hovered above us. She thrashed inside, beating the wooden planks. With a crack, the gravebox exploded. She screamed. Debris fell around us. And where the gravebox once lay—a body, wrapped in a white sheet and straight as a pole. But why didn't she fall?
It's me.
I destroyed the gravebox. I'm holding her in the air.
She wobbled. Her body dropped. Taking one painful step, I leaped over the grave hole, catching her in my outstretched arms. We crashed to the ground on the far side. My back thudded against the balizia tree.
The world continued to roll. I crawled to Pearl. Ballard's hands clasped around our arms, dragged us through the mud, threw us both into the cage. Iron bars slammed down. A dozen giant birds took to the air, cawing and crashing through the branches above us. I pulled Pearl into my arms. Her chest heaved, her eyes flickered but didn't open.
I wrapped my fingers around the thick cell bars and pulled at them. Dizziness struck me. Henri stood in the shadows, rubrics in hand. She fumbled with the leather satchel at her side. My mind fell deeper into a fog. I felt my shoulder, the wound Pearl left me with, and now we were locked in a cage together.
My eyes drooped. I shook my head to stay awake. The villain was fighting for control of me. If Pearl attacked again, I'd have no choic
e. I'd be forced to kill her.
My head fell forward. I jerked it back, slapping my face.
Could I use sapience to become someone else? Anyone but me. Anywhere but here. I thought about the letter from Claire. My sister.
Where are you Claire? Will you trade lives with me?
And as I gave in to the dreams, I became someone else. I became my sister.
Evan Burl and the Falling, Vol. 1-2 Page 37