Griffin and his parents exchanged a worried look. Like most things where the Levitator was concerned, it didn’t seem like they had any choice.
12
GRIFFIN
THE BOATS SPED down the currents of mist toward a squat building beside the markets. When the Fenn family stepped out onto the grated floor, they were greeted by whirring machines and a persistent dripping sound.
Leónie strode through a pointed arch that led into a bright room, sterile as a laboratory. One wall was lined with shelves holding hundreds of tiny glass jars. Another displayed racks of the filmy clothes all the Caligions wore. The third was scattered with standing desks bearing an assortment of funnels, bubbling vats, and curlicue tubing. And the far wall was covered, floor to vaulted ceiling, in iridescent webbing.
Hundreds of spiders hung from the webs, their bodies shimmering in and out of sight. Some were as small as thumbtacks; others were as long and lanky as frogs. Griffin swallowed—or at least, he tried to. He wasn’t scared of the daddy longlegs that lived in the garden, or the house spiders hiding in the corners of the old cottage. But these weren’t anything like spiders from home. They watched the Fenns approach, their fangs clicking at odds with the hollow drip, drip, dripping from the distillery.
Leónie walked straight up to the wall of webs and bowed, her torso dipping so low her nose nearly brushed the grated floor. She straightened with a sniff and a little shake of her head and crossed to the racks of clothing. She picked three sets and handed one to each of the Fenns. Then she swiveled sharply and proclaimed: “It is the crypsis spider’s choice to gift the people of Caligo with its magnificent excretions. We receive this gift every morning at sunrise.”
Philip turned a little green. “Excretions?”
“What—did you think one would spit at you and you’d magically receive its powers of camouflage? The Levitator, in his infinite wisdom, has decreed that you three shall be endowed with the blessed crypsis juice.”
“Endowed?” Griffin whispered. He didn’t like the sound of that.
“The crypsis juice is our birthright. You three”—Leónie looked down her nose at the Fenns—“were certainly not born to this world. But it is the Levitator’s wish, so far be it from me to—”
“We don’t have time for this,” Philip interrupted. “What does it do?”
“Do?” Leónie’s face bloomed an alarming shade of purple. “The blessed crypsis juice doesn’t do anything. It is a gift that you are spectacularly fortunate to receive.”
“And once we have received this… gift, then what?” A hint of irritation crept into Katherine’s voice.
Leónie cleared her throat. Her skin rippled, shifting, and then she was gone. Griffin blinked. He squinted at the spot where she’d been. Leónie was still there—he could hear her indignant sniffing, but the air where he knew she was standing had gone hazy, blurred at the edges.
Katherine smacked her palm against her forehead. “Of course. If we travel to Maris looking like this, the soldiers will spot us right away. And we can’t double the capacity of our lungs or grow a layer of blubber like the Marisians have. We’ll need to hide in plain sight.”
“And that will help us?” Philip bent at the waist until he was eye level with the small jars. Each was filled three-quarters full with a silvery liquid, like watered-down mercury.
Katherine examined the silk garment draped over her arm. “This too, I’m guessing?”
Griffin sidled one step closer to the wall of spiders. “So how does it work?”
“Work?” Leónie sputtered as her skin rippled back to its usual coloring. “The blessed crypsis juice does not—”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake. We drink it, right?” Philip reached out, uncapped three vials, and handed one to Griffin and another to Katherine.
“Right,” Leónie said through gritted teeth. “Though you will not be able to shift in and out of view, as we can.”
“But we’ll blend in with whatever is behind us?” Griffin was still skeptical. “We’d be invisible?”
“That is correct, though it will be several hours before the crypsis juice takes effect. And it isn’t some magic potion. It won’t last forever.”
Katherine raised her jar high, clinking it against Griffin’s and Philip’s. “Then there’s no time to lose. To Maris!”
“To Maris,” they echoed.
Griffin lifted the jar to his lips. He clamped his eyes shut and pinched his nose. He tried to swallow as fast as he could, but that only made him sputter and choke instead. Philip pounded his back while Griffin coughed. The coughing turned to laughter, and soon all three Fenns were doubled over, holding tight to one another, for a moment leaving all their fears and uncertainty behind.
After a time, Katherine wiped her eyes and linked arms with Philip and Griffin. She tugged them upright, then dipped her head toward the Levitator’s attendant and the wall of watching spiders. “Thank you for this gift. We will use it well.”
13
GRIFFIN
THE FENN FAMILY had every intention of going straight to the lighthouse, but the boat stubbornly ferried them to the aerie where the Levitator waited, shifting his weight first to one foot, then the other, like a child who’s been scolded.
As the boat neared the platform, he called out, “I did what you asked.”
The Fenns looked from one to the other, perplexed. Griffin rubbed the backs of his hands against his eyes. Why did the Levitator have to be so mysterious all the time? Couldn’t he ever just come out and say anything?
Philip froze, half in, half out of the boat. “Wait—you mean the Keepers? You made contact?”
“Even better.” The Levitator swept his arm toward the aerie. “Follow me.”
Griffin hurried to catch up, only to slam into his dad’s back when he rounded the corner. He peered around Philip’s shoulder. An elderly woman with deep lines carved into the skin beside her mouth stood alone, gripping her own elbows as if she were struggling to hold herself together. Her braids were white as the mists that enveloped her, ending in tufts that curled up to tickle her earlobes. She was dressed in a pilled sweater and baggy corduroys tucked into a pair of worn boots.
“Beatrix?” Griffin cried.
“You!” She unfolded her arms and pointed right at him. More lines crisscrossed her forehead. “You nicked my stola. I got in big trouble for that.”
Griffin rushed forward to grasp Beatrix’s hand in both of his. “I’m sorry—I never meant for you to take the blame. You were so nice to me. But I had to get my dad back, and none of the Keepers would listen to me. Good thing I did go, otherwise maybe we never would have realized…”
Beatrix gasped, her mouth dropping open. Her eyes were fixed on something, or rather someone, behind Griffin.
“Katherine?” Beatrix breathed. “Am I dreaming?”
Griffin’s mom stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the older woman. “Thank you for taking care of my boy when he was all alone.”
The frustration Griffin had felt toward the Levitator fizzled and burned out completely. He probably had no idea which one of the Keepers he’d dragged through the portal, and yet Beatrix was exactly who the Fenns needed. It wasn’t only that the way her brain worked lined up with the sort of help they needed—it was more than that. When his dad disappeared and Griffin found himself thrust into the care of the Society of Lighthouse Keepers, it had seemed like he was surrounded by problems he couldn’t solve and people he couldn’t trust. Except for her.
And what they needed right now was someone they could trust.
“How did you get here?” Katherine asked.
“Talk to him.” Beatrix nodded emphatically in the Levitator’s direction.
“Yes, well…” Philip steered the tiny woman to a bench against the wall. “That may have been my doing. I didn’t expect that he would—ahem. I suppose it’s just as well. You see, Bea, we need your help.”
“Me?”
“Yes.” Katherine settled on B
eatrix’s other side. “You.”
“Shall I have some refreshments sent along?” the Levitator asked as he backed toward the door.
Griffin scrunched his nose and tried to shake his head so Beatrix would catch his meaning without the Caligions seeing and taking offense, but she only nodded absently. The moment the Levitator was gone, she whispered, “Who is that? Really—being yanked between worlds without a please or thank you—and by a child, no less!”
Philip chuckled. “They’re a little pushy around here. We’ll fill you in later, I promise.”
“But we don’t have time now,” Katherine said.
“Right.” Beatrix rolled her neck, then blinked several times to gather her wits about her. “What can I do?”
“The priests have been to Earth—you must know this.”
“Of course. Not that the Keepers have done anything about it. With Dr. Hibbert locked inside her glass office, and guards watching her every move, we’re split down the middle. Half want to give up and hand everything over to the Coast Guard, while the other half are tripping over one another trying to figure out how to shut the portal down for good.”
“You’ve all got the malva vine protecting you, at least?”
“Oh, those priests won’t get inside my head. But none of us are trained to fight. Once we discovered the priests were after trained soldiers whom they could control, the Keepers had to retreat. We went to the Coast Guard in the end anyway. They set patrols at the portal day and night, but the damage is already done, I’m afraid.”
“But the patrols don’t have any malva vine—what’s stopping the priests from taking them, too?”
“If you can believe it, the Coasties stuff their ears full of cotton and wear helicopter headsets so they can’t hear a thing the priests say.”
Griffin blanched. That was it? Earplugs and some headphones? That was the best Earth could do?
Beatrix continued, “The rest of the armed forces are on alert now too. If the priests come back for more soldiers, it won’t be so easy.”
“But they will be back.” Katherine sat forward, propping her elbows on her knees. “Beatrix, we think the ocean’s song on Maris might be able to shield everyone on Earth from the priests’ magic.”
Beatrix tapped her fingers slowly in time with her thoughts. “Clever. You believe it will behave the same way in our ocean?”
“That’s the idea. But millions of people are landlocked, too far away to hear the ocean. We need somehow to disperse the song inland.”
“We’re leaving for Maris any minute. The Levitator, as you’ve discovered by now, can pull people from one world into another if they stand near enough to the portal. If we’re successful, and we collect the song from Maris—”
“When.”
“When we collect the song, he’ll pull us through, from Maris straight to Earth.”
“And if you stay in our cottage, the alarm will sound when we arrive,” Griffin added.
“We’ll get the song into the water somehow. But we need a way to spread it inland. Can you help?”
Beatrix’s eyes darted side to side as if she were scanning a newspaper. “I don’t know how yet, but yes, I’ll find a way.”
The Fenns reached out and drew her into a hug. “We have to go. With any luck, we’ll see you again very soon.”
Beatrix stepped away, shooing them toward the door. “I’ll be ready.”
14
FI
FI LANDED ON her feet in the lantern room. She shook her head to clear it, the smell of smoke heavy in her nostrils. Beside her, and scattered along the stairs below, the greenwitches were collapsed, keening gut-wrenching cries of anguish. Fi blinked, confused, and twisted to look out the bank of windows behind her.
Fire. The wildlands were on fire. The ground all around the tower was black, littered with charred tree stumps. To her left was all that remained of the green. To her right, scorched soil led to a flickering wall of orange and black columns of smoke rising into the sky. The boundary between the ground held by the soldiers and the resistance was fire.
“Up!” Fi doubled over, coughing. “Get up!”
She hooked her arms under Ness’s armpits and pulled. Ness gritted her teeth and hauled herself to her feet. Together, they charged down the stairs, half-blinded by the smoke stinging their eyes.
The air cleared a little when they reached the ground floor and Fi swayed on her feet, drawing breath deep into her lungs. She closed her eyes, searching for the green. It sputtered, then flared to life against her eyelids. What should have been a tangle of green pulsing through the entire world was a spotty map of all that was left. Drips of flame seared the veins of trees that had stood for centuries, and ripped through fragile blossoms.
Fi gasped. It felt like someone had reached into her chest and squeezed. Hard. A headache stabbed the insides of her skull, and her skin singed and burned. She clung to the stair rail, struggling to stay on her feet. How long had it been like this? Were they too late?
Val braced herself against the workroom window. “Start with the roots.” She gasped between words, pain written over her face. “The trees would want us to use their last bits of life, if it might save the rest.”
The greenwitches nodded. They staggered toward the door leading out of the tower, leaning on one another for strength. They threw it open, expecting to fight their way out of the fort the soldiers had erected when Somni first invaded. But it was gone. The fort had stood for a hundred years, blocking access to the portal. Now holes had been hacked into the exterior wall of pikes and the gate was missing completely. Black rectangles in the dirt were the only sign that the barracks, jail, and mess hall had ever even been there. A thrill shivered through Fi. The resistance had done this. They were finally fighting back!
The greenwitches split in half. Val gathered one group around her and they charged directly toward the fire. Ness dragged Fi to catch up with the second group retreating into the wildlands. As Fi ran, the smell of smoke ebbed and her headache receded. The trees reached out to cover her like a cool cloth across her brow.
Suddenly voices filled her head and the ground beneath her began to ripple. She glanced over her shoulder. The tremor was coming from Val and the other greenwitches advancing on the fire. Their pleas were like something out of a dream, nipping at the edges of her mind.
Long-buried roots tore out of the soil, shaking dirt into the sky and snaking through the air like whips. The roots began to beat at the ground, stamping the flames into sparks. More churned above the surface, turning over the soil and smothering the sparks where they smoldered.
“Fi! Don’t waste the cover they’re giving us.” Ness pointed to the top of the barren hill on the other side of the fort. “Look.”
A line of red-robed priests marked the greenwitches’ advance. Soldiers filed in behind them, weapons at the ready. Fi skidded to a stop. There were only six greenwitches—what could they do against so many soldiers? Ness yanked Fi’s collar, dragging her toward the trees, the air cooling as the canopy covered them. “Leave it. They know what they’re doing.”
Fi slipped in the thick undergrowth, falling hard to the ground. “We waited too long. We should have been here all this time. I have to help them!”
“Fionna,” Ness pleaded, “Eb wasn’t the only one who gave his life to get you here. Are you going to throw away that gift now? To do what—to sacrifice yourself?”
Fi struggled against Ness’s grip and the greenwitch abruptly released her. Ness dropped onto her knees, spreading her fingers wide and thrusting them into the soil.
“How do you know about Eb?” Fi’s voice trembled. She scrambled to her feet.
“I told you we were in communication with the resistance. When they learned of our plans for you, they warned me how stubborn you can be.”
“They?” Fi backed slowly away, then turned to run in the opposite direction.
Ness grimaced. “I didn’t want to have to do this.”
Before Fi had t
aken three steps, a cloying odor rose above the smoke and ash. It seeped into her lungs, slowing her mind. Fi stumbled. Her legs buckled, her arms suddenly heavy as tree trunks, and she crumpled to the ground.
15
FI
WHEN FI CAME to, everything was rocking, her head bobbing on her neck like a poppy at the end of a long stem. She tried to blink, but her eyelids were heavy as rain-soaked logs. Bogbean dotted the soil below and ivy climbed, unrestrained, over tree trunks and along the branches. When she twisted her neck, squinting against the glare, the sky swung overhead where it belonged. A moan escaped her lips and the rocking stopped.
She was settled gently onto the ground, but the “gently” part did nothing to improve the fact that she’d been slung across someone’s shoulder like a bundle of sticks. If her eyes would only focus and her head stop spinning, she’d let Ness have it. How dare she? That wasn’t what the green magic was supposed to be used for, even if they were at war, even if they were changing the rules as they went.
Fi squeezed her eyes shut and tried one more time to look around her. More than fifty people stared down at her, resistance fighters filling in the spaces between trees. They weren’t half-starved, like the Vineans on Somni. They were strong, and ready to fight.
Fi gulped back her joy at the sight and swayed to her feet. “I can walk.” Her voice was thick from disuse. How long had she slept?
Ness appeared in front of her, a somber twist to her lips. “Walk, then. We have a long way to go until we can stop for the night.”
Fi scowled, swatting away the arm Ness offered. “I don’t need your help.”
“Suit yourself.”
Fi took a few lurching steps forward before whirling back around. “You had no right to control me like that. I make my own decisions. I’ve earned that much.”
“Fionna, I did what I had to do.”
“Oh yeah?” Fi teetered closer, until she was nose-to-nose with the greenwitch, no longer caring that everyone watched her struggle to stay on her feet. “What makes you think you’re one bit better than those priests? That’s exactly the kind of thing they’d do.”
A Way between Worlds Page 5