by G. P. Ching
“Finn…”
“No, listen. You, Hope, seem like the kind of girl who has always been the special little snowflake. Girls like you have always fit in and been popular. This is the first time I’ve been good at anything. It’s the first time I’ve been accepted as part of a community. This place may be just a school to you, but it has been a sanctuary for me. A deadly one, yes, but an exciting one.”
“First of all, being special isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Do you think I wouldn’t change places with you in a heartbeat?” She met his stare and held it. “They’re asking Mike to die, Finn. Not fly. Not juggle fire. The act is for him to drown. Are you willing to sacrifice Mike so that you can feel important?”
“No, of course not.” Finn scowled.
“Then why aren’t you doing anything about it?”
There was a long pause while Finn seemed to turn the idea over in his head. “You’re right,” he said slowly. A pained sigh left his lips. “We have to do something. I’m responsible for Mike. I got him into this. I have to get him out.”
“Trusting this stranger is the only way. You won’t be sorry, Finn.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“We’ll need a plan. It won’t be easy to sneak out and back without anyone noticing.”
“Nothing about this will be easy.” Finn folded his arms across his stomach and stared at the ceiling.
“Tomorrow, after dinner, let’s meet in the library. We need to find a map of the island. I think I saw one in the alcove where we found the performance posters.”
34
Map
Hope found the map of Revelations Island sketched on a roll of yellowed parchment within the tree alcove she and Finn had visited before. The map seemed too old to exist outside a glass museum case. She carefully unrolled it on a small table between the alcoves, pinning the corners with books to hold it in place.
“It looks like the shortest way to Murder Mountain is to go through the Crimson Forest; that’s the one we can see outside our window.”
“It’s also where the menagerie animals live. I’m not sure I’d care to run into a pack of wolves or a bunch of tigers,” Finn said. “Any way around it?”
“This river—it’s called Fever River—winds around the coast and branches under the school where it eventually meets up with the Hispida Tributary.”
“Under the school?” Finn perused the section of map near Hope’s finger. It did, indeed, appear the river flowed beneath the school. He wondered if it was the source of the water bathing the fallen star.
“We could follow Fever upstream and backtrack along the side of the mountain. It’s a longer journey, but it doesn’t go through the forest.”
Finn pointed to a dark triangle of land labeled only with a skull where Fever River met Murder Mountain. “And go through that? Not only do we not know what this is, the trip will be considerably longer. I’m not even sure we can do it in one night.”
“I agree. We have to risk the woods.”
“So, we need to prepare to fight.” He thought of his cards, of the new eviscerate spell he’d been practicing.
She shook her head. “Amuke will notice if one of his animals is injured. We’ll pass through as quietly as possible, try not to stir anything up. If we get attacked, you fly and I’ll run.”
“You can’t outrun a tiger.”
“I’m fast. I can’t fly, but I can do other things.”
“What kind of other things? You can’t sing your way out of a tiger attack.”
“Who says? I healed your ADHD, didn’t I?”
“Are you going to stop a tiger with reiki?”
“Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
Finn dropped onto the window seat. “I think we should go out the window of our room.”
“I agree. I can pull off a fall like that. It’s not that high. You can close the window behind us.”
“I might be able to carry you,” he said.
“I can jump.”
“It will be quieter if I help. Someone might hear you fall.”
She nodded. “Are you sure you can lift me?”
“I’ll practice tomorrow with Wendy.”
She pulled out a napkin from dinner and began to sketch a crude version of the map on the back. “What’s up with you and Wendy anyway?” she murmured.
“What do you mean?”
“I see the way you stare at each other. You’re always together. The touches. The smiles you only have for each other. Everyone’s noticed.”
He shrugged, his cheeks turning red. “We’re… troupe mates.”
“Hmmm.”
Finn snorted. “We’re planning an almost impossible mission through a malevolent wood to meet a stranger in a place called Murder Mountain and you want to talk about Wendy?”
She grinned. “Absolutely. Have you kissed her?”
“No.” Finn leaned against the bookshelf. “Orelon is always looking over our shoulders. It’s like he can sense when we’re alone together.”
“But you want to.”
“Who wouldn’t want to kiss Wendy? The braids and the freckles? She has a face that belongs on a box of cookies.”
Hope laughed. “You are absolutely right. There isn’t a person alive who wouldn’t want to kiss Wendy. It’s a moot point.” Smirking, she finished her sketch and rerolled the map, returning it to its place on the shelf. “Come on. Let’s get some sleep. We go tomorrow night.”
35
The Crimson Forest
Get on my back.” Finn squatted for Hope to climb on.
“You practiced this with Wendy today?”
“Yeah, well, kind of.”
“What do you mean, kind of?”
“She’s smaller than you and can fly. It’s apples to oranges.”
Hope huffed. “Are you saying I’m heavier? Will you be able to carry me?”
Finn shrugged. “Climb on and we’ll find out.”
Hope did not go gentle onto his back. She grabbed his shoulders and hopped, bringing her weight down hard on his hips.
“Oomph.” Finn groaned. “Practically weightless.”
“It’s a gift.”
Finn opened the window and carefully climbed out on the ledge. It was awkward with Hope on his back. She was taller than he was and fit like an ill-proportioned backpack.
“Ow! Watch it.” Hope shifted, rubbing her forehead. She must have hit it on the frame.
“Sorry.” Crouching on the ledge with Hope clinging to him, he measured the distance to the ground. “Here goes nothing.” Finn leaped, working against gravity. Although he willed himself to rise, his body stubbornly sank, gaining speed as he neared the ground, more like a slow fall than actual flight. He landed hard in a series of tripping steps that ended with his face in the grass. Hope stumbled off him, perturbed.
“That was much better than jumping,” she whispered sarcastically.
He rolled his eyes, then flew back up to close the window. He was still in the air when the rapid bark of dogs began behind the school.
Hope looked up at him in horror.
Run, he mouthed. Without hesitation, Hope sprinted toward the Crimson Forest. Finn took off, flying across the side gardens above Hope’s head. The hunting party galloped into view, giant black dogs barking and snarling, followed by a cavalry of horses. Applegate and Ravenguard, dressed in their red riding coats, were accompanied by two clowns, pale faced and black lipped, on steeds as dark as the lines around their eyes.
“The dogs have something,” Finn heard Ravenguard say. “A runaway?”
“Let’s find out.” Applegate whistled for the hounds. At once, the beasts halted their yapping and gave her their full attention. “Hunt,” she commanded. The dogs raced toward the trees.
Finn flew, faster than he’d ever flown before, careful to stay out of the hunting party’s line of sight. Relieved when he reached the shelter of the woods, he landed in the upper branches of a massive oak t
ree.
“Psst.” Hope waved at him from a tree a few yards away, her head poking out from a cloak of pine branches.
“How did you—?”
“I jumped,” she whispered. “Come on.” She waved him over.
Stealthily, he soared to her branch and nestled into the shadows, as the hunting party trotted in below him. Hope placed a finger over her lips. One look at Applegate’s deadly expression and Finn decided silence may be golden, but he trusted magic. He gripped Hope’s arm and tapped the three of diamonds to his knuckles.
“Extinguish,” he whispered. Hope inhaled sharply as her pale skin blurred to something ghostlike.
Hoofbeats slowed under their tree. The hounds circled, whimpering. Finn stopped moving, stopped even breathing.
“They’ve lost the scent,” Applegate said.
“Perhaps it was a rabbit or other prey. The hounds are notoriously distractible.” Ravenguard patted his dappled gray steed.
“Hmmm.” Applegate scanned the forest, her head moving robotically from left to right. Her eyes flashed luminescent green in the moonlight like some sort of animal. “One of the beasts may have snatched up whatever the hounds were tracking.”
A clown dismounted and lowered its face to the dirt. One white-gloved finger cut a trail through the pine needles and inhaled deeply. Hope gripped Finn’s hand as the thing tipped its head back and sniffed the air in their direction.
“It has something,” Ravenguard murmured.
Silently, Hope plucked a pinecone from their tree and whipped it toward the school. The hunting party turned at the resulting plunk and rustle. Applegate narrowed her eyes, her horse’s hooves stomping in place. It wasn’t enough to draw them away.
The clown’s eyes rolled toward its twin, nose sniffing the air again. It took a step toward the base of their pine tree. Finn covered his mouth and held his breath. Could it smell where Hope had stepped at the base of the tree? If it looked up…
With slow, even movements, Hope lifted her triquetra pendant from the base of her throat and whispered something under her breath. A strong breeze stirred in the heart of the woods and gained power, blowing through their sky-high perch. Finn clutched the pine’s trunk as it bent and swayed.
A branch snapped nearby. The hunting party turned. There, between the trees, was a massive buck, horns tangled in the branches. The hounds lowered their heads and growled, ready to attack. With a nod to Applegate, Ravenguard drew a crossbow from the back of his saddle and leveled it. Whoosh. The arrow barely missed the stag’s head as the deer freed its antlers at the last moment and sprinted deeper into the woods.
With an eruption of yapping, the dogs pursued the deer at a full-out run, the admissions counselors kicking their horses into gear behind them. Eventually, with one last look toward their tree, the clowns mounted their horses and joined in the chase.
“Come on. The buck won’t last forever,” Hope said.
“Wait, what?”
“It’s an illusion. It’ll disappear in a few minutes.”
“You made that thing?”
“Not me, per se. I asked someone to do it for me.”
“What? Who?”
“We don’t have much time.” She leaped to the next tree and the next. Finn tried to keep up, but Hope was fast, very fast. Was it because she was an enchanter? Had the island changed her to this in the same way it had allowed him to fly? She’d said she’d always been fast, but no one was this fast. Not naturally.
Finn shoved aside the branches as he barreled through the trees after her. The mass of shifting leaves and darkness blinded him, and he ran right into Hope’s back, almost knocking her from the tree. She didn’t have to explain why she’d stopped short. Orange-and-black striped muscles tensed on the next branch. The green eyes of a tiger glowed from the shadows, locked on to Hope.
“You ready to try coflying again?” she asked nervously.
“Uh…”
She hurled backward into his arms. The tiger pounced. Finn caught Hope but still couldn’t carry her weight. While he succeeded in breaking her fall, they tumbled through the unforgiving branches until their bodies slapped the forest floor. She was on her feet in a heartbeat and tugging at his arm. “Get up. Get up! Run!”
The tiger landed beside Finn’s head, teeth bared. Razor-sharp claws swiped toward his face. No doubt he’d be shredded if it weren’t for Hope. She caught the cat by the hide and flung it away with more force and strength than her body seemed capable of.
As the cat rebounded, so did Finn. He scrambled to his feet.
“Fly, Finn. Get out of here,” Hope yelled. A disc of light formed around her fist, blinding, with a razor-sharp edge.
Without hesitation, Finn jumped into the air, giving Hope room to fight. The tiger roared and attacked, charging Hope straight on. Finn expected her to swing the weapon in her hand, but as the tiger got closer, her face changed.
“Oh no,” she said. “Finn, help!”
The light withdrew into her fist. She jumped, catching Finn’s hand. But as hard as he tried, he could not raise Hope higher into the air. The tiger grabbed her by the legs, sinking in claws and teeth. Hope’s fingers slipped from his wrist to his hand. He rotated. Gripped her with his other hand. Too much weight. It was no use. With a scream, she slid to his knuckles, then to his fingertips. He’d never forget her expression as she hit the dirt. Not fear or helplessness. Straight-up acceptance—like she was forgiving him with that last catch of the eyes.
The tiger attacked, teeth flashing. Blood sprayed in a sick, sputtering fountain.
Finn had to do something. He searched the forest floor for anything to use as a weapon. A heavy stone lay along the path. He pried it from the dirt and lifted it above the tiger’s head. Then he dropped. All his weight came down behind the stone and collided with the tiger’s skull. There was a sickening crunch. The tiger seized and tipped off Hope. It landed on its side, and with one last spasm, stopped moving altogether.
Carefully, Finn dragged Hope a safe distance from the tiger’s lifeless claws and pressed a hand to the gurgling wound at her neck. He’d never seen a person bleed this badly. Her jugular pulsed gallons of blood and her face took on a ghastly pallor. An attempted breath resulted in more blood spilling from between her lips. Her eyes glazed. She stopped breathing.
“Hope. Come on, Hope.” He couldn’t remember exactly how to do CPR, but he tried anyway. He breathed into her mouth, performed chest compressions. Nothing helped. The blood pooled behind her head. Her skin grew cold. No heartbeat. No breath.
Tears streamed down Finn’s cheeks. He shifted in the bloody grit beside her body, pulling his knees into his chest. So much blood. His hands were slick with it. Somewhere deep within the woods, a cricket chirped. A bat fluttered above his head. He reached out a trembling hand to close Hope’s eyes.
She was dead.
36
Murder Mountain
Finn’s experience with death was thankfully limited. Aside from his mother, he’d never been close to anyone who’d passed away. This was real. This hurt. Hope was more than a roommate; she was a friend, a coconspirator, someone who had his back. The loss felt like being torn in two, like losing a sister.
What should he do? His only option would be to contact Theodor. But surely this was an infraction far beyond even his protection. Minutes passed. He needed to make a decision.
He was mulling over his predicament when her body took on a soft glow. At first he thought it was his extinguish spell wearing off—which seemed odd considering he’d lost the effects twenty minutes ago. He leaned toward her body. A column of bright light blasted from Hope’s chest, pure energy that made Finn blink his tears away and scramble to his feet. Yellow-red light like liquid fire formed over her heart, spreading through her torso and to her fingertips like a cosmic disease. Her eyelids flipped open, her body arched. Only her heels and the top of her head touched the ground as a long rasp of air entered her lungs.
“What the—” To Finn’
s amazement, the wound in Hope’s neck filled itself in, and her complexion went from pale white, to pink, to her regular alabaster. She was still bloody, but she was whole.
All at once, the light blinked out and Hope’s body collapsed onto the dirt once more. She was panting, blinking into the darkness.
“What in the name of all that is holy just happened?” Finn stared at her as she rolled over and got to her feet.
She held up her hands. “I can explain.”
“You were dead.” He backed away, shaking his head.
“No, Finn. Wait. Hold on.” She grabbed a hold of her own head and yanked. There was a crack from her cervical vertebrae. She tipped her head from side to side and rolled her shoulders. “I’m not a zombie or anything. It’s okay.”
Finn blanched. “A vampire?”
She shook her head. “I’m a Healer.”
“A what?”
“A Healer. It’s a type of Soulkeeper.”
“What the hell is a Soulkeeper?”
“Soulkeepers are people with a genetic predisposition to fight evil. You know, Lucifer, fallen angels, demons, hellhounds, wicked curses—that type of thing.”
“Er. Sure.” He looked at her blankly.
“I’m the last one.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I am the balance against the one fallen angel left on Earth. What I’m trying to say is, I can’t die unless the world is completely rid of evil.”
“You… can’t… die?”
“Well, not exactly true. I was dead just now, but I was resurrected. I can’t be permanently dead. It’s a side effect of being a Healer.” Her head undulated forward and her cheeks puffed out. Vomit spewed from her lips onto the dirt.
When the retching finally stopped, she rasped, “That’s another side effect. When I heal myself or others, it makes me puke. That’s the price that comes with my power.” Her stomach heaved again. “The last Healer used to burn when she used her power. Almost burned herself to ash once. I suppose between throwing up or burning alive, I’ll take throwing up.” She heaved again, but this time nothing came out but air. “Not that I have a choice.”