“You know why,” Sariel said. She glanced up at Edward. “We’re just going to have to make the best of it until Melchior gets here. Then we’ll be going to ‘you know where.’”
“I want to know w-what’s going on around here,” Edward said firmly. “Everybody kuh-keeps talking l-like I’m not even here. T-tell me the plan or I’m n-not going with you.”
Sariel and Artemis shared a look.
“We’re only trying to help you, Edward. You’ve got to trust us,” Sariel said in a pleading voice.
“Why sh-should I?” he said, his eyes flashing angrily. “You nuh-never even asked me if I-I wanted to come with you. You didn’t even introduce y-yourselves. You just sh-showed up and grabbed me at the Foundry. Then you k-keep hinting th-that we’re going somewhere and that it’s dangerous. I deserve to know whu-what’s going on.”
He glared down at her with his arms crossed.
Sariel looked back up at him for a long moment. Then after glancing at Edward’s bloody sleeve she sighed and said, “First let me get you a bandage for your arm. Then I’ll tell you what I can.”
The bite he’d sustained from Lilith wasn’t deep, but it was raw and dirty. Edward winced as the ermine applied soap and water to the wound and began dressing it with a clean linen bandage.
The ordeal with Henry and Lilith had been terrifying. He’d never expected to be attacked by such normal-seeming people.
Sariel spoke, interrupting his thoughts.
“Okay, so what do you want to know first?”
Edward’s eyes narrowed. “You told me on the train that the three of you had fallen from that place, what did you call it?” Edward thought for a moment, trying to remember the name. “The Wildbrine or something. How do I know that you’re not evil and that you have some secret plan to kill me or something? Those other two guys seemed trustworthy and then they turned out to be deranged monsters.”
Sariel chuckled as she tightened the last part of the linen cloth and secured it. “First of all, the place you’re talking about is called the Woodbine.” She glanced up at Edward with a serious expression. “And as far as being ‘evil’ goes, I don’t really know how to answer that. I guess you could say that we made a serious mistake. But the major difference between us and the Groundlings is that we didn’t fall because we wanted to serve the Jackal. We all fell for a completely different reason.” Sariel’s voice trailed off and she gazed out of the window for a long moment.
Edward noticed her sudden shift in attitude and asked, “Well, how c-come they all look human and y-you don’t?”
Sariel sighed and said, “In the Woodbine, things take on the appearance of what they truly are on the inside. When a Guardian falls, he or she is changed. Most of the Groundlings are vain creatures, and crave the physical beauty they once possessed. The Jackal uses his power on those who serve him most faithfully. He gives them a kind of shell that masks most of the changes.” She shrugged. “All except for the eyes and teeth, that is. You probably noticed that.”
Edward nodded, thinking of Lilith and
Henry’s terrible gaze. He shuddered to think
that they served a master who was even more
powerfully evil than they were.
Sariel continued, “He also invented something called the Corruption. The Jackal uses it as a way to control his servants. Whenever a Groundling does something that is in direct disobedience to one of his laws, they undergo a painful transformation.” She indicated her back. “That’s why my wings shrank. I once sang a Song of Power to try to force one of the Groundlings’ Oroboruses to function like a Guardian’s Ring.” She shuddered. “It really hurt. The Jackal’s weapons are designed only for his evil purposes,” she said. “And because I tried to alter it, I was punished.”
Changing the subject, Edward asked, “But you s-still haven’t told me why I’m here. You say you d-don’t serve the Jackal, so what is it you w-want with me? I d-don’t understand what this is all about.”
Sariel looked uncomfortable. She and Artemis exchanged nervous glances. Edward could tell that they weren’t going to give him a straight answer. He scowled and said, “I’m guessing that Mr. Spines has told you that you can’t tell me exactly why.”
Sariel nodded and offered him a wistful smile. “I’m sure he’ll tell you eventually. After all, she was your mother . . .”
Sariel suddenly clapped her tiny hands to her mouth with a look of horror.
“You weren’t supposed to tell!” Artemis shouted. “Wonderful. Now Melchior’s really going to get us in trouble,” he added gloomily.
Edward sat back on the couch with a stunned expression. “I d-don’t understand. What does this have to do with my mother?” he demanded.
“Well, it’s just that, um . . . you see, it’s not just about your mother, really . . . it’s just . . .” the ermine wrung her hands fretfully.
“You might as well tell him. It’s too late now, anyway,” Artemis said bitterly. Turning to Edward, he said, “Melchior invented a machine that can take us back to the Woodbine. It’s ingenious! Until he came up with it there was no way for a fallen Guardian to get back there. Well, that is, unless they were servants of the Jackal, of course,” Artemis added.
Edward listened with rapt attention.
The toad fluttered up onto the coffee table in front of the couch and continued. “The reason we came for you is that your mother is up there and we need your help to rescue her. She’s been captured and imprisoned in the Jackal’s fortress. I know we should have told you, but Melchior wanted to tell you in his own time.”
Edward’s head was spinning. He felt his new wings press softly into his back as he slumped into the back cushion of the couch. His mother was still alive? But how could she be? She was dead! He’d watched helplessly as cancer had ravaged her body, stealing her away from him. It had been the most traumatic experience of his life.
He stared at Artemis with a dumbfounded expression. Could it possibly be true? Hope suddenly flared in his chest. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, he wouldn’t have given to get to see his mother one last time. And if she were in danger he didn’t care where it was, he would do whatever it took to find her.
“Show me how to get there.”
“What?” asked Sariel.
“To the Woodbine. I want to see my mother.” Edward wore a determined expression.
“But we can’t go yet. We need Melchior, he’s the only one who knows how to operate the machine.”
“Okay then, take me to the machine,” Edward said. He removed the pack of tattered playing cards from his back pocket.
“I want to see it.”
Chapter Nineteen
LAIR
“He is being difficult, Master,” Scruggs said, bowing low before the Jackal’s throne. “If I had a little more time I’m sure I could get him to tell me where the boy is hidden.”
Scruggs kept his gaze locked on the floor, afraid to look into the Jackal’s terrible eye. He’d been summoned to the lair and he knew what it meant. A private audience with the Jackal was never good.
The Jackal’s yellow orb remained fixed on Whiplash Scruggs for a long moment. Then, with a loud wheeze, the bellows inside his mechanical chest began to inflate. “Melchior has reason to be stubborn, Moloc,” the Jackal said in a reedy voice. “A father will go to great lengths to protect his son. He will die before he tells us where the boy is hidden.” There was a pause while the bellows inflated again. “Allow Melchior to escape and then track him to the boy. Take fifty Groundlings with you. I don’t . . . ssssssssss.” There was a hissing sound as the Jackal’s mechanical lungs ran out of air. After a pause to refill his bellows, his reedy voice continued, “. . . want any mistakes this time, Moloc. You didn’t capture the boy on your last mission. This is your one and only chance to redeem yourself.”
Whiplash Scruggs knew that he’d been granted a reprieve. Failing the Jackal twice didn’t happen often.
As he strode from the Jackal’s chamb
er, he cursed his luck. He’d hoped to finish torturing Melchior. Being forced to allow him to escape filled Scruggs with disgust.
The click of his boot heels echoed down the dank corridors as he stomped along. Groundlings of all shapes and sizes, all of them corrupted and twisted according to the Jackal’s whims, swarmed through the passages. Most of them were on assignment, working to torment their mortal victims on Earth.
Later, he thought as he weaved through the throng of bodies.After I deliver the boy to the Jackal, I’ll reward myself with something extra special for Melchior.
He smiled. There were many tortures he’d been waiting to try out for centuries.
Chapter Twenty
LIBERTY
The rusted chains on Mr. Spines’s wrists bit deep into his flesh, but he hardly noticed them. They were nothing compared to the scores of lash marks that had turned his back to ribbons. Scruggs had spared no mercy when applying his whip, and Melchior knew that his strength was running out. He had to find a way to escape soon or he’d be too weak to try.
He gazed around the gloomy prison, noting the heavy iron grates that covered every exit. There was only one way he knew of to break through iron.
He hesitated, wondering if he had the strength to attempt another forbidden song. He had taken such songs for granted when he was a Guardian. “Broken Chains” was an elementary tune for any young Guardian, but to sing it now, in his corrupt condition, was to take a substantial risk. Fortunately it was a short song, only one quick verse. The longer Songs of Power required more time to sing, and with them came a longer exposure to the Corruption.
Must try, he told himself, gathering his strength. He took a deep breath and was instantly rewarded with spasms of intense pain.
This was going to be difficult.
He closed his eyes to keep the room from spinning. After a few seconds he was ready to try again. This time he drew his breath very slowly, and although it still hurt, he was able to hold it.
He exhaled and his voice rose, softly at first, but more loudly as the song went on. The lyrics to the song weren’t difficult, but the cadence of the melody was tricky. It was almost a chant, sounding something like the blows of a blacksmith’s hammer as he shaped a piece of metal.
After the first stanza, Mr. Spines could feel the rusted chains that held his hands and feet begin to weaken. He struggled against the Corruption that threatened to overwhelm him once more.
Hang on. Just a little more. He increased the volume of his song, giving it all the remaining strength he possessed.
CREAK! The chains groaned under the force of the powerful song. It took all of Melchior’s strength not to scream as new quills sprouted out of his wounded back. As the song continued, all of the iron in the horrible chamber showed signs of weakening. The iron portcullis that covered the exits began to bend and twist. Rivets popped and finally, with a resounding CRACK! the manacles on Mr. Spines’s feet and wrists completely fell away.
He rose shakily from the table, barely able to stand. The toll that the song had taken on him wasn’t quite as severe as the last song, but he was severely wounded and needed medical attention.
Not long and I’ll be back in the Woodbine, he reassured himself.
As he limped to the chamber exit, he thought longingly of the medicine he’d brought with him from the Woodbine, a special concoction he kept in a cabinet at the hideout. Even though it wouldn’t do much about the Corruption, it would help to heal his ragged back.
Because his mind was distracted by the terrible pain, he didn’t notice that neither Whiplash Scruggs nor any of the Groundlings were around to stop his exit. Under normal circumstances he would have been immediately suspicious. But all he could focus on as he ascended the long flight of stairs that led to the ground floor of the building above was a single thought, which he repeated over and over in his mind.
Help the boy. Find his mother.
Chapter Twenty-One
MACHINE
When Edward walked up the stairs and opened the door to the attic of Mr. Spines’s hideout, he gasped as the door swung open and revealed a room filled with marvels.
Where the wooden roof had once been, Spines had created a ceiling of stained glass that held illustrations of fantastic creatures. Edward stared at the panes of colorful glass, marveling at the pictures of gigantic blue snails with elderly, human faces. Green-skinned warriors hefting spears rode on their spiral shells. Beneath the incredible ceiling was a huge, clockwork machine made of brass and steel that rotated slowly, powered by hidden motors. Stretching outward from its base were long metal arms that cradled spinning models of planets.
It was an incredible laboratory, the likes of which would have made Mr. Jules Verne himself turn green with envy.
Eventually, Edward’s eyes fell on a machine in the corner that looked like a large telephone booth covered with gauges and dials. Hoses snaked out from the sides of the cabinet, ending at a huge boiler tank. Little bursts of steam shot from hidden valves, reminding Edward of a toy train engine.
“That’s it over there,” Sariel said nervously. She looked guilty. “We probably shouldn’t stay up here long. Melchior wouldn’t want us to linger.”
Edward ignored her and walked directly over to the machine. He scanned its incredibly intricate machinery, trying to figure out how it worked. He noticed a large, glass capsule filled with golden fluid that was attached to its side by a brass fitting. Upon closer inspection, he saw tiny measurement lines painted on its side, indicating that the fluid level was at the top.
What’s that for? he wondered. He brushed the innumerable gauges, buttons, and switches with his fingertips, wishing that one of them had the words offand onwritten on it.
“You shouldn’t touch those,” Artemis said. “Melchior’s the only one who knows exactly how to work it.”
“I agree,” Sariel added. “Let’s go. We’ve been here long enough.”
“One second,” said Edward. He moved a crate of machine parts out of the way and knelt down on the wooden floor. Then he opened the pack of cards and started to build. As he put each card into place, he felt the familiar sense of calm rush over him, and his mind began to clear. Suddenly he found that he could picture the machine in perfect detail, including the size and relationship of every switch, knob, and button.
Okay, he thought. Three green buttons on the top, a yellow switch next to those, a gauge marked “Pressure” underneath that . . .
There is a secret language that inventors and engineers are born with. It’s an unspoken thing, an understanding that helps them decide how and why things are put together in certain ways. This knowledge flooded into Edward’s mind with stunning clarity as he constructed his card house. It was as if he could suddenly understand exactly how Mr. Spines had built it.
Edward set down the last card on top of the house’s roof and stood up.
“Edward, what is it? What are you doing?” Fear was in Sariel’s voice as she watched Edward move over to the panel of colored buttons.
He knew exactly what to do.
Melchior hobbled up to the front steps of the Victorian house. His breath came in ragged gasps as he approached the door.
“Not yet,” cautioned Whiplash Scruggs in a hushed voice. “Wait until I give the signal.” His Groundling lieutenant crouched in the bushes beside him, eager to send his fifty soldiers after the renegade Guardian.
“Yesss, Commander,” the Groundling hissed. The terrifying creature had the head of a serpent and the body of a bat-winged lion. It fingered a rusted Oroborus at its belt with its long-nailed fingers, anticipating the attack.
Mr. Spines was unaware that he was being followed. He stumbled into the house and after looking around and seeing nobody, called, “Sariel! Artemis! Edward! Are you here?”
No response. “Where are they?” Spines muttered. Did something go wrong with the rescue attempt?His back hurt terribly. He needed to get upstairs to the lab and retrieve his healing elixir.
CRA
AACK! A huge noise, like the sound of lightning striking a tree, ripped through the air. It was followed by the distinct smell of ozone.
“No!” Spines shouted. In spite of the terrible pain he was in, he rushed up the stairs to the attic and burst through the door to his laboratory. The sight that met his eyes almost made him faint.
Sariel and Artemis stood in front of the smoking machine, gazing at him with helpless, terrified expressions.
“Did he?” Spines asked, desperately hoping he was wrong. But he knew the answer to his question before it left his lips. Sariel stared back at him and nodded dumbly.
But how? He had designed the machine with skills known only in the Woodbine. He knew the boy was special, that he was destined to do great things, but he hadn’t counted onthis.
There was barely time to react to the noise in the back of the room. Spines was about to turn when he felt huge, meaty hands grab the back of his coat and hoist him into the air.
“WHERE IS HE?” Whiplash Scruggs demanded, his jowls quivering with rage. Spines glanced past him and saw fifty Groundlings pour into the room. The twisted creatures all held flaming Oroboruses at the ready.
“He’s gone,” Spines gasped. His eyes inadvertently glanced at the smoking machine. Scruggs noticed. He stared at the machine for a long moment before comprehending.
“So, you’ve sent him there,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. Spines felt the grip on his coat collar tighten. The fabric on the back of his jacket was pulled tightly against his swollen skin, making him moan in pain.
Scruggs didn’t seem to notice. His face was beet red and his eyes flashed dangerously. The fact that he’d narrowly missed capturing Edward stung deeply, and it was all he could do to keep from reaching out and killing Melchior on the spot.
He moved his face inches in front of Melchior’s own. When he spoke, his voice was a soft, dangerous whisper.
“My hounds can track him twice as well in the Woodbine, Melchior. You think you’ve won?” he chuckled darkly. “Not yet, old friend. The boy will soon be ours.” He grinned, showing rows of pointed, white teeth. “I’m going to have you sent directly to the Jackal himself. He’s been wanting to make an example of you, to show the others what happens when you break a contract.”
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