For the briefest moment Edward saw John Grudgel climbing through the window before he fell. Then he felt himself spiraling downward and was dimly aware of a loud CRACK as he smashed into the table. The last thing he heard was Whiplash Scruggs’s mocking laugh as the world around him faded.
Chapter Seven
DARKNESS
When Edward woke he couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or shut. It was late and all of the lights in the Foundry were out, including any light that would have trickled through the floorboard cracks above. He moaned and turned over on his side in the darkness, pain coursing through his body. His cheek was pressed to the muddy floor and his head throbbed. But it was the itch, not the painful bump on his head that had woken him. It was burning with an intensity completely unlike anything he had ever felt before, like a hundred sharp knives were being plunged into his back.
What had he ever done to deserve this?
He moaned and rolled onto his stomach. His eyes were tightly shut and his teeth clenched. Every muscle in his body protested against the blistering pain. But there was absolutely nothing he could do to make it stop.
Rage burned deep within him. It wasn’t fair that he was here. If his mom hadn’t died, none of this ever would have happened. He would be safe and happy at home. No Whiplash Scruggs. No Foundry. No painful itch. He’d never done anything to deserve any of it. It wasn’t fair! Angry tears blurred his vision as he writhed on the muddy floor.
Life was cruel. Here he was, alone and in pain, and nobody cared.
Why did it feel as though he was being punished just for being alive? Why him? Out of everyone on Earth, why him?
He gasped, his thoughts forgotten. The pain in his back was so intense, it took his breath away. It was so bad that it felt for the first time as though he wouldn’t be able to physically stand it anymore.
Maybe I’m going to die, he thought. In the midst of so much pain, it didn’t sound like such a bad idea. What did he have to live for, anyway? At least if he died and there was an Afterlife, there might be a chance he would be with his mother again.
Then, just when Edward thought he might pass out from the pain, it changed. It was just as horrible, but instead of an itch, it felt as if there was something trying to rip through his back. Edward couldn’t see it, but between his shoulders two black points were slowly emerging. They looked like the tips of large needles that were trying to shove their way out through the skin between his shoulder blades.
Edward screamed.
There was a horrible ripping sound and the two points burst through his skin. The needle-like tips were attached to two big, black objects that flopped out behind his back as they emerged, tearing the back of his sweater to shreds.
What had happened to Edward was impossible by all biological standards, and yet the new additions to his body were undeniably real. From where he lay on his stomach, shaking uncontrollably from pain and shock, Edward couldn’t see them, but he could feelthem. And the feel of them, the pure strangeness of the way his new appendages reacted to the outside air, filled his quaking body with horror. This had to be a dream.
He cautiously reached a hand to his back and shuddered. There was definitely something there that hadn’t been there before. He carefully gripped a cluster of the damp things in his shaking hand and gently pulled them around so that he could see what they were.
Feathers?
Then he suddenly realized the impossible truth. What had grown out of the spot between his shoulders were two, slightly damp, ebony wings. And they were definitely real.
The door to the cellar above him suddenly burst open, sending a ray of golden light spilling down the stairs and into the darkness. A tiny figure was silhouetted in the doorway. The figure spoke in a strange, high-pitched voice, calling out, “I found him! He’s down here!”
But Edward couldn’t see who was speaking. Waves of exhaustion and shock were overwhelming him, sending him hurtling back down toward unconsciousness. As the world folded shut around him for the second time that day, a strangely comforting thought occurred to him.
The itch is finally gone.
Chapter Eight
FOUND
As Edward’s eyes closed, Whiplash Scruggs’s eyes snapped open. Although everyone else in the Foundry was sleeping, the burly teacher had been dozing fitfully, listening for the sound of Edward’s scream. It was the signal he’d been waiting for. After quickly making sure that his long-handled scissors were in his doctor’s bag, he rose fully clothed from his bed and grabbed his hat.
It was time.
Standing watch by the cellar door, Sariel heard Scruggs’s heavy footfalls in the hallway upstairs. She knew that they had only a minute or two before he arrived downstairs. Her eyes grew wide and she shouted into the darkness below, “He’s coming! Quick, Melchior, we have to go!”
Mr. Spines was kneeling next to Edward on the muddy cellar floor. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the new wings that had sprouted from Edward’s back. A rare look of tenderness flashed across his craggy face. It had happened! Finally, after all these years, the boy had grown wings.
There was still hope yet.
Shaking himself out of his reverie, he grasped the rusted Oroborus and held it upward, muttering the guttural word of activation.
“Nsh!”
The ring burst into fire, casting dancing shadows on the cellar walls.
Mr. Spines grasped the edges of the ring and pulled. He had to be careful, if he exerted too much stress the Oroborus would break. He muttered a series of deeply magical words under his breath, commanding the ring to obey his will. Slowly, it began to stretch until it was about three feet in diameter.
Not enough!Beads of sweat burst on Mr. Spines’s forehead as he pulled, feeling the quivering resistance in the metal as he did so.
Artemis watched Mr. Spines’s progress with wide, fear-stricken eyes. His ugly green wings fluttered in agitation as he saw the Oroborus growing slowly wider, inch by struggling inch. He glanced up at the ceiling, and whispered, “Please hurry, Melchior, please! I don’t want to be eaten by Whiplash’s dogs!”
“Almost . . . there!” Spines grunted.
Suddenly, the flames that burned on the outside of the ring sputtered.
No!Without wasting a second, Spines immediately sang the Song of Ignition that would keep them lit. As the lilting melody filled the air, the flames brightened and began to flicker again.
Mr. Spines ended the song abruptly, breathing heavily. A look of relief flashed over his pale, sweaty features. That was close!
Fortunately, the song wasn’t terribly difficult, but it still cost him a considerable amount of his strength. His arms quivered as he continued to pull the edges of the ring, coaxing it wider.
Sariel gazed down into the cellar, nervously wringing her paws as she watched Mr. Spines work. He needed to hurry!
Suddenly a deep voice sounded directly behind her. She squealed as a meaty hand closed painfully on the scruff of her neck and hoisted her skyward.
“And to what do I owe the honor of this visit?” Whiplash Scruggs hissed at her.
Sariel reacted immediately, biting down on his wrist with her needle-sharp teeth. He let out a string of curses and dropped her to the floor. She quickly darted down the stairs like a furry bolt of lightning, calling out, “He’s found us!”
The ring was now five feet in diameter, wide enough for the four of them to fit inside.
“Grab the boy!” Spines shouted.
Scruggs’s Kentucky-accented voice called down from the cellar stairs above.
“Melchior!”
The mysterious Mr. Spines wheeled around at the sound, facing Scruggs with the glowing ring clenched in his small, gloved hand. The two of them stared at each other for a moment, a thousand years of unspoken hatred passing between them in an instant. Scruggs’s eyes flicked over to the flaming blue ring Spines held and widened in surprise.
Spines flashed a triumphant, crooked smile at his adversary an
d hissed the word that activated the magic portal inside the Oroborus.
“QADOSSSS!”
The room exploded with light. Shelves mounted to the cellar walls crashed to the floor, scattering bins of nails and bolts everywhere. Dust rained down from the ceiling, filling the dimly lit room with a dirty fog.
But none of the dirt and debris touched Whiplash Scruggs’s gleaming white suit. The big man stood rooted in place. His calculating, pale-blue eyes gazed at the spot where Edward, Artemis, Sariel, and the mysterious Mr. Spines had been moments before.
All that remained was a single ebony feather.
After a long moment he spoke, his face breaking into a pointy-toothed grin.
“Touché,” he said quietly.
Chapter Nine
RAILROAD
Edward was jolted awake by the sound of a train car’s clicking wheels. His face was pressed against something cold and smooth. It felt good on his aching head. He slowly opened his eyes, afraid of what he might find.
They were still there. He moved slightly and could feel the wings behind him, pressed into the back of his seat.
It hadn’t been a dream.
His heart pounded as he gazed out the window his cheek had been resting against. He had left a round imprint on the fogged glass. He felt completely disoriented. How did he get onto a train?
He blinked slowly and scanned the lavish accommodations that surrounded him. Crushed velvet covered every wall. Silken curtains with golden tassels hung at each window. The wooden trim that surrounded the compartment was carved with a curling grapevine patterns that looked so real, Edward was almost tempted to reach out and take one of the grapes. Glancing down, he realized that a beautiful table covered with fine linen and a silver teapot was in front of him. He’d never been on a train before; he never knew that they were this fancy.
Then his eyes fell on the passenger that sat opposite him.
“Sleep well?” asked the horrible, prickly creature.
Edward screamed.
“Shush! You’ll alert the conductor!” The creature hissed. He waved a tiny finger in front of his stubbly lips. “I’ll explain everything I can to you, but you’ve got to control yourself!”
Edward automatically clamped his mouth shut, not knowing exactly why. If anything, he should be running for his life. But there was something in the creature’s urgency that made him stop. He stared at it with wide, disbelieving eyes.
“That’s better,” the creature whispered, giving Edward a horrible, yellow-toothed smile. “Now then, you must be famished. How about some tea?”
Edward nodded and then winced as the shaking jarred his already bruised head. The creature poured the tea and Edward’s mouth moved, trying uselessly to find something to say. Finally, after a full minute, he found his voice and managed to stutter, “H-h-who are yuh-uyuh-you?”
The creature chuckled. After studying Edward for a moment he said, “My name is Melchior. But you may call me Mr. Spines if you prefer.”
Edward nodded, glancing at the long prickles that protruded from beneath the creature’s stovepipe hat.
“I-I-I’m . . .” he began.
But Mr. Spines interrupted, “You’re Edward, of course. Yes, yes my boy I know who you are. It’s no accident that you’re here.”
“W-well why am I h-h-here?” Edward asked, feeling defensive. “Did Scr-Scruh-Scruggs have something to do with th-this? Am I kicked out of the Fuh-fuh-fuh-fuh . . .”
“. . . the Foundry?” Spines interrupted, finishing his sentence for him. “No, my dear boy, of course not. You have been removed from that terrible place but you were not ‘kicked out.’” Mr. Spines took a sip of tea. “Under the circumstances I would think you’d be grateful. I can only imagine what your thickheaded friends at that school would think if they could see what’s happened to you.”
Edward reached his hand to his back and felt the tips of the black feathers and shivered.
“You won’t be able to use those yet, of course.” Spines indicated Edward’s wings with a nod. “You’ll need a lot of training before you’ll be ready to fly.” Mr. Spines set his teacup down and offered Edward a piece of shortbread. Edward mechanically took it and raised it to his mouth, too stunned to speak.
Did he just say that I’ll be able to fly?
Mr. Spines seemed to read his thoughts and said, “And why else would you have wings, my boy? Not much use otherwise.”
“But wh-why w-w-would I want to? F-f-fly, I mean,” Edward asked after taking a gulp of tea.
Suddenly an irritated voice broke out from beneath the table, saying, “Why would you want . . . you’ve got to be kidding!”
Edward jumped as a white ermine darted up onto Mr. Spines’s shoulder and perched there, shooting him a reproving look.
“All Guardiansfly, Edward. Only a Groundling wouldn’t want to do it.” Her blue eyes flashed angrily. “If I had even half a chance to get my wings back, I’d . . .”
“. . . be as rotten a flier as you used to be,” a croaky voice finished. Artemis hopped out from beneath the table and fluttered awkwardly into the seat next to Edward. “She hates that she lost ’em,” he leaned toward Edward and whispered confidentially. “They were the first thing to go when the Corruption set in. They’re still there, of course, but they’ve shrunk down to nothing more than a couple of nubs in the middle of her back.” Artemis grinned slyly. “Totally useless. She doesn’t want anyone to know. She’s too embarrassed.”
Sariel, who had overheard the comment, snapped back. “Well it’s a whole lot better than having Whiplash Scruggs cut ’em off with his scissors, I’ll tell you that much!”
“Tickets please,” a booming voice from the compartment next to theirs called out.
“Enough, you two!” Spines hissed, giving them each a reproving look. “Quiet down. We’re in a public place.”
Edward’s blood froze as he was reminded of Whiplash Scruggs and his long-bladed scissors. So that’s what they were for. He wanted to cut off my wings! The thought of it made him feel nauseated. Even though the wings were brand-new, he couldn’t imagine them being cut off. It would be like someone cutting off his arm or leg!
He fidgeted uncomfortably in his leather seat. A new question formed in his head: How did Whiplash Scruggs know that I was going to grow them in the first place? He showed up with his scissors before, as though he knew what was about to happen to me.
A conductor with rosy cheeks interrupted his thoughts as he opened their compartment door. As the big man glanced over at Mr. Spines and the other strange creatures, a look of surprise crossed his face.
Mr. Spines waved his hand through the air in a wiping motion and sang a few strange-sounding words.
“Zeh Lo Meshane.”
Edward watched as the expression on the man’s face relaxed. His eyes looked glazed and out of focus. “Must have been seeing something else,” he mumbled. Then he turned to Mr. Spines and asked in very pleasant voice, “Tickets please, Ma’am.”
Mr. Spines handed him four tickets, which he scanned and then proceeded to punch. He smiled stupidly back at them and tipped his hat as he left the compartment, saying, “Thank you very much, Mrs. Neusbaum. You and the kids have a pleasant ride now.”
Edward was amazed. “How did you do that?” he asked, hardly noticing the absence of his stutter.
“It’s an old Guardian cloaking song,” Melchoir said with a modest shrug. “I simply changed what he thought he was seeing, telling him that what he saw ‘didn’t matter.’ What he saw was an old woman with her grandchildren taking a train ride to the city, nothing unusual.” Spines chuckled. “Humans really don’t want to see anything they can’t understand. It only disturbs them.”
“What d-do you mean h-humans?” Edward asked. “Y-you’re a human aren’t y-you?”
Mr. Spines ignored Edward’s question, slurped the last of his tea and set down his cup with a loud clink. “Time for questions later. First we must get safely to Los Angeles. Then we’ll be
able to talk without the danger of being overheard.”
“But I d-don’t understand,” Edward said, feeling more afraid and puzzled than ever. Who was this strange creature and where was he taking him? “W-why are we guh-going to Los Angeles? I duh-duh-don’t even know you.”
Spines glanced out the compartment window to make sure that nobody was standing outside. Then he leaned forward with a conspiratorial whisper.
“Edward, the Jackalhas forces everywhere looking for you. Whiplash Scruggs is one of his best officers and he already found you once. He’s probably trying to track you down right now.” He saw the confusion and fear written on Edward’s face and went on.
“Let me explain. You have sprouted wings because you are not human. The world you’re from is called by many names, but the one most commonly used by Guardians is the Woodbine. It’s where people go when they die.”
Edward’s mouth hung open in disbelief. Spines ignored this and continued, “Guardians are the winged protectors of that world. Groundlings are Guardians who ‘fell’ from the Woodbine and serve their evil master, the Jackal, down here. The Jackal was once a Guardian, but he became obsessed with power and was forced out of the ‘Higher Places.’ He took a third of the Guardians with him when he fell. While the Guardians’ purpose is to protect what is good, the Jackal’s only purpose is to corrupt and destroy. Don’t tell me that your mother never taught you the rhyme?”
Edward shook his head “no,” feeling too stunned to speak.
“I’m surprised,” said Mr. Spines, looking concerned. Edward watched as he cleared his throat and rolled his eyes heavenward for a moment, as if recollecting something. Then he began to speak, chanting the words as if it were a song without a melody:There are seven bridges between the worlds
and five of them are broken.
The sixth one has no rails to hold
and the seventh one was stolen.
Captive then, the wand’ring dead,
for an epoch the world’s turn.
When halfway from the mortal realm,
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