“BEING WATCHED, MEET IN MISS TERRY’S OFFICE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. I HAVE SOMETHING FOR YOU.”
Sky slapped his face to make sure he was really awake. Since when did Piebalds deliver notes? They weren't pigeons. Or owls. For that matter, since when did Piebalds write? Either way-delivery bird or author-it was odd.
"Fred, my friend, you are one weird bird."
He spotted his slippers sitting across the room next to his desk. "Perfect."
He ripped the sheets off his bed and wrapped them around his feet. He surveyed his handiwork, remembering how happy Mom had been when she'd found these fifteen-hundred thread-count sheets for 30 percent off. "She's going to kill me." He stepped down onto the glass. He could feel it popping through the material, leaving, he suspected, dozens of tiny holes, but the fabric held well enough to protect his feet.
Moments later Sky threw on some jeans, zipped up a faded yellow hoodie as high as it would go to hide an even uglier Valentine's Day shirt-the only clean shirt he had-beneath, put on his shoes, and used the torn bed sheets to sweep the lass into a pile.
He grabbed Fred's note, shoved it in the pocket of his hoodie, and set out for the kitchen.
"Late again, squirt," said Hannah, walking up behind him. Her hair was still wet from showering after, Sky knew, her rigorous early-morning workout. "Nice hoodie," she added with a smirk.
"What's wrong with my hoodie?"
"Nothing," said Hannah. "That color was really cool in the eighties."
"You weren't even born in the eighties," Sky pointed out.
"I saw E.T.," Hannah replied tartly, as if there was nothing more to know about the decade of denim. "Oh, and thanks for the great party last night. It's no wonder you're so popular."
"Sorry. Next time I'll leave my friend's mom to die in the woods," Sky snapped.
"Derek was still knocked out when I got him home," Hannah continued, sounding heartbroken. "He didn't even give me a good-night kiss!" She snorted as if a boy not wanting In give her a good-night kiss were the most absurd possibility In the world. "Lazy Eye and Squid offered to move his lips, but It wouldn't have been the same. Derek never moves his lips. Besides, Tick wouldn't let them."
"Amazing," said Sky, shaking his head mockingly. "I mean, the nerve of that guy."
Hannah sniffed. "Yes, well," she muttered, "Derek's mom thought he was on drugs; she blamed me, if you can believe it."
"What did you tell her?" asked Sky.
"I lied and told her someone-probably you-spiked his fruit punch with Nyquil," said Hannah. "She'll never let me see him again."
"Do you really want to?" Sky asked.
"Maybe," Hannah replied guardedly. "What's it to you? Is Dad paying you to spy on me now?" "Why? Do you think he would?"
Hannah laughed. "Probably." She paused, and then gave him a very serious look, especially for Hannah. "Sky, are you okay?"
"You mean, like, in the head?" Sky joked.
"I was thinking more in the heart," Hannah replied.
"Sure," Sky replied, refusing to look at her. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Gee, I don't know," Hannah said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe because your life is nuts? I know you feel like this whole monster hunting thing is Phineas’ legacy and all, but I've watched what it's done to you over the last year. You're not the same ... something's changed."
Sky met her eyes. "You couldn't be more right, Hannah."
Hannah puffed her lips in apparent frustration.
"Look, I'm fine," Sky lied, not wanting to talk about it, or drag her any further into his messed- up life. "I'm just tired. Last night was bad, but it's all settled now. Really. To be honest, I'm more worried about you. I hear Coach Blackburn is making the team practice today right before the homecoming game. Does that mean you're practicing after school as well?"
Hannah didn't look like she believed him, and his sad attempt to change the subject was completely obvious, but she didn't press.
"The man is nuts," said Hannah, "but we're not about to let football players out-nuts us. We'll practice until there's not a player left on the field."
Sky glanced out the window as they passed, noting that it was still dark despite all the colored light coming from the massive stained glass wall surrounding the manor.
He stopped. Stained glass wall?
"Sky, are you all right?" Hannah asked, sounding concerned even though she couldn't see outside the window from where she was standing.
Sky rushed to the window, and his stomach dropped. Outside, he saw monsters in the yard, frozen in place. In the distance-in the light of the glowing wall-he saw Solomon Rose standing motionless, his branchy Echo arms raised.
"Sky?"
"Wait for me in the kitchen- don't leave until I get back!" Sky darted through the dark and winding halls of Pimiscule Manor.
He reached the humongous library in the center of the manor and burst through the doors. Six stories above, he saw the stained glass dome. The pendulum hung from the dome, 'winging back and forth in its terrible arc-a pendulum that, knew, hadn't been there since they'd reset the prison last year.
Sky raced between the empty bookshelves, the books donated to Arkhon Academy years ago. In the center of the nom, in the shallow concave pit that made up the floor, he found Morton Thresher standing quite still, watching the pendulum's erratic, unnatural swings. In his hands he held Sky's pocket watch ... or, rather, Sky's fanner pocket watch.
Sky stopped.
Morton wore the two monocles, but they weren't connected together, nor were they connected to the watch. In other words, they weren't a band of one. Morton had somehow figured out how to make the prison appear, but he hadn't yet deduced how to open it-a good thing since, according to Errand, opening it was precisely what he wanted to do.
Morton glanced up. "There you are." He adjusted a few dials on the watch, and then, very suddenly, the pendulum dis appeared. Calmly, as if nothing had happened, Morton turned to face him. He removed the monocles and shoved them in his pocket.
"Hello, Sky," said Morton. "Lovely morning."
"I've had better," Sky replied. "For example, once I woke up and a Hunter of Legend wasn't standing in my library trying to kill everyone."
"That only happened once, did it?" asked Morton.
"Rough neighborhood," said Sky.
Morton's mouth curved. "I see your wit is as sharp as your uncle's. Years ago I saw him argue with a bird for over an hour on the best flavor of ice cream. Phineas favored butter pecan, as I recall."
"And the bird?" asked Sky.
"Mint jubilee," said Morton. "Of course, I had to take your uncle's word for it since I don't speak bird."
"Who won the argument?" asked Sky.
"The bird, I suspect," said Morton. "I didn't stay to find out." "Are you sure they weren't just trying to get rid of you?"
Sky asked in all sincerity.
The corner of Morton's mouth twitched. "I can tell you're going to be a tenacious apprentice-perspicacious, as well."
"And maybe capacious, audacious, and loquacious- ! can use big words, too. Years of word puzzles from Uncle Phineas has made me bodacious," Sky replied. "That still doesn't change the fact that you shouldn't be in here."
"Tell me Sky, where is your uncle? What is he up to? I promise, you can tell me. Despite our disagreements, your uncle and I were friends once."
"Up to? He's not up to anything," said Sky, bristling. "He's dead."
"And you claim that he hasn't contacted you since his death?" asked Morton, his eyes intent.
"No," said Sky. "That's generally the way it works."
Morton frowned. "Most unfortunate; I'd expected him to reveal himself by now. This business with Bedlam reeks of his traps."
"Phineas is dead," said Sky. "D-E-A-D. Dead. I don't know how to spell it out more clearly."
An ingratiating grin tipped the corners of Morton's mouth. "My dear boy, I have known Phineas for over fifteen hundred years. He snookered the Barrow Hags and charmed t
he Silversaff out of enough secrets to outfit the army of Erachnus, lie bested Reemspun the Elder in a contest of wits, captured the Wimbledon Cleaver, and claimed the Moonriders as our mounts after spending over forty years in the Mountains of Moldy Foreboding just to learn their language. Phineas T. Joimiscule is the only man in the history of the world to go toe to-toe with Legend and survive. He is the nightmare of monsters, the bane of hunters, and the consort of the First Hunter before her passing. I know his games. I know his tricks. One does not live as long as he has without some measure of ingenuity. I assure you, Sky, despite what you may think, Phineas IS very much alive."
Sky reeled at both the overload of unbelievable stories' had never heard about his uncle and the revelation that Morton honestly believed Phineas was still alive. Morton had insinuated it. before, Sky knew, but to hear him say it outright ...
Sky wanted to believe it, too, but how could he? A year had passed since he'd watched Phineas die in the Jack. He'd watched him be consumed in that haunting inferno and crushed beneath that unbearable weight, giving his life for them. If Phineas were still alive, then where was he? And why hadn't he shown himself when Morton's hunters were trying to kill Sky last night?
''I'm curious," said Morton, cutting off Sky's thoughts. "Do you commonly dig up the dead-figuratively speaking, of course?"
"Do you commonly attack children, Morton, especially when you claim to be friends with their uncles?" Sky countered, fearing that Morton already knew about the Grove of the Fallen and Alexander Drake's coffin, his words clearly a thinly veiled reference.
"When necessary," Morton replied. "My former friendship with your uncle is the only reason you're still alive. I'm sure a smart boy like you has wondered why I didn't join in the hunt personally. If I had, I promise you, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"I've had a few thoughts," Sky replied. "Hearing you talk about my uncle has given me a few more. You couldn't possibly be afraid of Phineas, could you?"
"He who has no fear of his enemies has no enemies," Morton retorted.
"Because he has friends?"
"Because he is dead," Morton stated. "But surely there are other reasons you've considered for my absence; perhaps you think I'm Bedlam?"
Sky furrowed his brow: He had thought that, mostly because he thought of everyone as a possible host for Bedlam. Morton hadn't participated in the hunt, which meant that if he was Bedlam, he could have attacked Sky in the swamp, and he could have shot Cass. Plus, Morton was in charge-it made sense for Bedlam to choose Morton. But if Morton was really Bedlam, why would he raise the question?
"Don't look so surprised," said Morton. "I thought the same thing about you when I learned you outwitted my hunters ... until I saw the barrow weed. It's not a perfect barrier---completely ineffective once he's in your head-but it's enough to forestall entrapment, especially for one of such prodigious wit as yourself."
Morton sauntered around the library, inspecting the empty bookshelves, the concave pit, and the stained glass dome high above. "Now, Apprentice, it's time for you to keep the last part of our bargain: Where is Alexander Drake's body and his shimmering blade?"
"I don't know," Sky snapped. "Why don't you tell me why you made the prison appear?"
Morton's face tightened like a painter's canvas pulled too f.tr across a frame. "DO NOT TRY ME!" he barked, turning to Sky. "My hunters told me what they found at Alexander's rave! I have visited the Grove of the Fallen myself! I have seen the coffin and Cassandra and your little friend , her daughter, peacefully sleeping on your kitchen table! So I ask you again: Where is the blade?"
Sky started backing away toward the bookshelves and the exit, trying to act casual, but frightened by the mad gleam in Morton's eyes. Morton might want to humiliate him first, Sky supposed, but that look said Morton would happily kill him right now.
"You know: I'm not Bedlam," said Sky, trying to keep his voice from quivering, "but how do I know you're not?"
Morton smiled grimly and slowly walked toward Sky. "Do you feel cold, Sky? A slight chill, perhaps?"
Sky felt a sudden stabbing sensation in the Eye of Legend on his palm, and cold radiated through his hand. "How . .. how did you ... ?" Black veins spread out from the Eye and his hand started to turn blue. "What are you doing to me?"
"Me? No, Sky-you are doing this to yourself," Morton replied.
"Oh dear, it appears to be spreading up your arm... ." Sky looked and saw black veins rising into his wrist and up his forearm. "Stop it." He cringed against the freezing pain and fell to his knees. He rubbed at his arm frantically, trying to drive the darkness back.
It spread up his arm ... to his neck. Just behind the veins wherever they touched-his skin turned midnight blue and froze into a solid, unbreakable mass. His chilled muscles grew taught and ropy, like a Gnomon's, his bones solid and heavy.
And then, as the veins reached his head, he saw visions flash before his eyes. He saw the arrow entering Cass, the Wargarou gutting Beau last year, and the Jack rising up behind Phineas. "Stop it!"
"Only you can stop it, Sky. You hold a piece of Legend part of his terrible power-in that Eye. You could so easily destroy me. Let it free.... Use it...." Morton leaned close and whispered in Sky's ear. "Make me stop it."
Sky saw Ernaline's tomb sinking into the earth with all the hunters who'd died to protect him, and Piebalds snatched out of the air by the Darkhorn, never to fly again. He saw Errand, a baby, trapped in Pimiscule Manor for eleven years and Solomon Rose throwing Errand over the stained glass wall after claiming to love him-and that desperate need in Errand's eyes.
Sky lashed out with his frozen fist. Strength he didn't possess flowed into the punch as it shot at Morton's face.
Morton caught Sky's knuckles in a hand every bit as frozen and strong. Sky experienced a moment of surprise, and then the black veins in both their arms rushed back toward their palms. Darkness exploded out of Sky's Eye of Legend, matching the darkness exploding from an Eye of Legend on Morton's palm.
Sky felt a jolt as the two forces met-an anger coming from the darkness, a terrible will-and then a shove that sent him flying backward through the air. He crashed to the floor, the Darkness spent, the cold gone. He started to rise but found Morton's shoe on his head, holding him down.
A long shimmering blade plunged past Sky's nose, missing by an inch, before sinking effortlessly into the floor. Morton leaned close again. "You wonder why we really hunted you?" he whispered. "That is why."
Morton removed his foot and spun away, leaving the shimmering blade quivering in place. "You are untrained! Undisciplined! Flawed! The First Hunter gave the Eye to the Hunters of Legend to protect-it does not belong to you! You are not worthy of the Hunter's Mark you bear! You are not the First Hunter's heir, no matter what trick Phineas played to give you her Mark! Solomon Rose on his worst day wouldn't have allowed himself to lose control like that!"
Sky laughed. If Morton believed that, he didn't know Solomon Rose.
Morton spun on him. "Is there something you'd like to tell me? Some joke you'd like to share, perhaps?"
Sky didn't say anything. According to Errand, Morton already knew the Arkhon was Solomon, which is why he planned to free him, but Sky wasn't about to reveal that he knew Morton's secret.
Morton curled his lip. "You were never meant to have the Eye of Legend, Sky. You cannot guard it, not from Bedlam, not even from yourself. There is a will in the Eye-Legend's will. Learning to control it takes lifetimes. Use it too much and too often, and he will control you."
Morton turned away and stared into the shadows quietly. As Sky sat up, he noticed the Eye of Legend fading from Morton's palm, the skin somehow folding in around it until it disappeared completely.
The shimmering blade quivered in front of Sky. The blade itself was translucent and waxy, with thousands of flecks of what appeared to be gems encased within. The flecks twinkled like stars and shifted colors, drifting around to create the shimmering effect. The crosspiece of the sw
ord was long and black, the grip as well, with a simple silver knob on the end.
Sky glanced at Morton, who still had his back to him.
Fearfully, Sky reached out to touch the blade, wondering if it was Alexander's and why Morton would ask for it if he already had it, but the moment Sky's fingers connected, the shimmering died.
In an instant the waxy substance turned to rusted iron, the strange, twinkling gems disappeared, and all that was left was a long, corroded sword with a black hilt and silver pommel.
The Legend Thief Page 13