Untold

by Sarah Rees Brennan

  The other was the foot landing on Kenn’s throat.

  Kami looked up at Jared’s set face.

  “Let her go,” said Jared in a measured voice, as the flood of earth moved faster and faster, until Kenn was mostly covered, his scared face framed by dark dirt. “I’ll bury you alive by her garden gate. I’ll enjoy it. Every time she goes out in the morning, every time she comes home, she’ll walk on your grave, and she’ll know she’s safe.”

  Kenn tried to say something, but Jared’s boot pressing down on his throat made that difficult. All that escaped his mouth was a thick, terrified gurgle.

  “The only reason I have not to kill you is if you spread the message,” Jared said. “People fear Lynburns? You can fear me. Tell them all: I see any sorcerer near this house, and this is where I put them. This is where I put you. I might give you air. You might be alive for a lot longer than you want to be. Now tell me that you’re going to do exactly what I say.”

  The pressure of his boot must have eased, because Kenn was able to gasp out, “Yes.”

  The grains of earth rolled into his open eyes, then mingled with the tears to make muddy tracks. “I swear!” he sobbed out. Jared lifted his foot and stepped back.

  Kenn rolled over in the clinging earth and crawled on the ground to get away from Jared, crawled on his hands and knees, then staggered to his feet and ran, stumbling and terrified, down the path by the woods.

  Jared turned to Kami, and she flinched, then gave a cry as the thorns sliced her arms. Jared glanced at her face, his own unreadable, and took a step toward the gate, approaching her with what seemed like wariness. He lifted his hands over her briar-twined arms, but only the shadows of his fingers touched her.

  The briars uncurled themselves, retreating down her arms, the thorns skimming in the air along her skin but not cutting her again. The briars touched her fingers and slipped off like loose rings. Jared’s head stayed bowed for a moment over her arms, bare now but for the blood.

  “You’ll want to get cleaned up,” he said in a quiet voice, and took a step back.

  Kami took a step back as well, and looked at his face. There was a nasty gash over his eyebrow, and his mouth was red and swollen, his lower lip cut in two places. “Looks like Rusty did a number on you yesterday.”

  Jared smirked and immediately winced. “Ash got in a hit too.”

  “You might want to get cleaned up as well,” Kami said. “There’s disinfectant and stuff in the house. Want to come in?”

  Jared hesitated a moment, and then nodded. He swung the gate open and followed her up the path home.

  * * *

  Kami carried the first-aid kit down from the bathroom to the kitchen. When she came into the room, Jared was standing awkwardly in the exact spot on the red tiles where she had left him. There was a rolling pin lying on the low oak table and a line of empty plastic plant pots along the broad windowsill. He looked supremely uncomfortable in the midst of all this domesticity.

  “You first,” Jared said as Kami approached him with the first-aid kit.

  “Okay, but don’t think it’ll get you out of disinfectant,” Kami warned. She put the kit on the table and went over to the kitchen sink, where she ran her arms under the tap. The water ran down her cuts, turning faint pink and swirling down the drain. When she put on disinfectant, the cuts stung but she did not let herself cry. She’d had enough of that. She blinked and focused on Jared instead.

  In the sunset-warm light coming through her kitchen window, it was easy to see Jared was thinner than he used to be. The contrast of his appearance with the cared-for, comfortable surroundings of home was too great not to notice. There were shadows under his eyes and his dark-blond hair was longer than usual, curling in on itself at his nape. Something about him reminded her of a stray dog, lean, piteous, and always afraid of being hurt.

  Or he was one of the invincible Lynburns, he had almost buried someone alive, and she was crazy.

  Kami turned off the taps. When she looked up again, he was much nearer than she’d thought he would be.

  “This towel’s clean,” he offered, his voice still quiet. “I mean, it looks clean.”

  Kami blinked. “Ah, the ‘it looks clean’ boy version of hygiene,” she said, but her voice came out a little shaky. She held out her arms, wrists up, and then regretted doing it: it was a stupid thing to do.

  He reached out and started, with great care, to pat her arms dry. She felt the warmth of his hands through the dish towel, his breath stirring her hair.

  She moved incautiously, and the towel touched an open cut. Kami let out a small sound.

  “Sorry,” Jared said, fast. “Sorry. I’m really sorry.”

  “It’s okay.”

  Jared looked at her, eyes shading to silver as he stared. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

  “Don’t think you’re getting out of disinfection,” Kami warned him. “Could you go lean against the dishwasher or something, you impossibly tall person,” she added.

  Kami dabbed disinfectant on a cotton ball, and crossed the kitchen floor to stand beside him. Jared slouched down against the dishwasher.

  It made her remember the hallway at the Water Rising, shaking in the dark and wanting so badly to be close.

  But this was Jared, and that had been Ash.

  “That looks nasty,” she said, wielding her cotton ball. She dabbed and he drew in a hissing breath. “Was Rusty wearing rings or something?”

  “Yes, that’s Rusty,” said Jared. “Hands dripping with ornate gold rings. His new look, surprisingly pimping.”

  “You’re so clever, mouthing off to a woman who has disinfectant and is ready to use it.” Kami dabbed at the gash again, feeling his breath go uneven against her cheek.

  “Sorry,” she whispered, dismayed that she was hurting him that much.

  “There must be some way to magically heal people,” Jared said, face turned away from her. “But I’d have to practice on people to find out, and I don’t like the thought of getting it wrong.”

  “Lillian should know,” Kami suggested.

  “Aunt Lillian is not terribly impressed with me right now.”

  “That stunt you pulled at the Crying Pools,” Kami observed, “was not terribly impressive.”

  Jared shrugged. “I thought it might work. And I didn’t much care if it didn’t.”

  Kami didn’t know what to do about it, if he felt like that. She didn’t even know why he would.

  “It was dumb,” Jared said at last, watching her back away. “I won’t do it again.”

  “You’d better not,” Kami told him. “And speaking of dumb things. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the gallant rescue.”

  Jared crossed his arms. “Do I get points taken off for bad technique?”

  “Why were you even there?” Kami asked. “Were you following me home?”

  “Are you asking me if I was stalking you?”

  “Maybe,” said Kami. “Were you?”

  “Yeah,” said Jared. “Little bit.”

  Kami had to smile because he was so weird. She could hear her brothers watching television, the sound of her father playing music as he worked. It seemed as if everybody was safe for the moment, and she could just try to work this guy out. “Don’t do that.”

  “I wasn’t following you home so I could break into your house and steal your underwear,” Jared pointed out. “There are sorcerers killing people in this town. I wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

  Kami looked down at the first-aid kit. She didn’t think there was anything you could do for a split lip, though “don’t get punched in the mouth again” seemed like a good first step that Jared had obviously not considered. He kept welcoming pain, as if it was the only friend he wanted.

  “Why not just walk home with me? As in, with me aware of the fact that you were there?”

  Jared did look at her then. “But I thought . . . ,” he began.

  Kami saw her mother at the gate, coming home before dark for once.
Mum had stopped to stare at the disturbed earth. Kami saw the look on her face, guessed what she might be thinking: that this looked like a grave, looked like trouble and magic on their very doorstep.

  “What did you think?” Kami asked Jared. She wanted him to say something, anything, to make her feel better.

  He said nothing. He’d been able to say he hated her.

  “Why this anxiety to keep me safe?” she demanded.

  Jared’s lip curled. “You saved me. In the woods. Now we’re even.”

  “I didn’t realize we were keeping score,” Kami said slowly. “I don’t want you to guard me. I’m nothing special. You said that. Didn’t you?”

  “Yeah,” Jared said. His voice was rougher than usual, and she wanted to hit him.

  “I’m not your magic link anymore. I’m nothing to you anymore. So leave me alone.”

  He looked at her, winter in his eyes. He hated her sometimes, he said: she was sure he hated her then.

  “Whatever you want,” said Jared, and turned away. He paused at the kitchen door. “Thanks for the first aid,” he added. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  It was a simple enough thing to say. It didn’t change anything. But it made her want to cry. She didn’t cry. She watched Jared pass her mother at their gate, and saw her mother turn pale in Jared’s shadow.

  Kami put her hand in her pocket and drew out the two objects she had in there. She looked at them glitter in the November sunlight: Ruth Sherman’s lipstick and the button she had pulled off Sergeant Kenn’s uniform when she pushed him away. She didn’t need comfort, not from anyone. She had a way to fight.

  PART IV

  WINTER SONG

  I have been torn

  In two, and suffer for the rest of me.

  —Edna St. Vincent Millay

  Chapter Fourteen

  Call upon My Soul Within the House

  Several weeks of attempting to hunt sorcerers had passed when Kami woke and found that the world had turned white. It was as if someone had tipped a layer of powdered sugar over Sorry-in-the-Vale, turning the landscape into a vast wedding cake.

  Kami stirred in a warm nest of blankets, blinking at the brilliant pallor of the world outside her window. Her lashes stuck to her cheeks, and her hand was pinned under Tomo’s head.

  Mum and Dad had spent the night shouting at each other. Tomo and Ten had climbed into Kami’s bed and huddled there, all of them listening miserably together.

  Kami pulled herself upright in bed. Tomo was sprawled over three-quarters of the mattress, and Ten was curled at the bottom of the bed like a cat. She’d seen other families fighting and breaking apart, but it had never seemed like something that could happen to hers.

  There was a trail of footsteps in the snow: a dark line leading from their doorstep to Kami did not know where. Her mother was already gone.

  The creak of the bedroom door made Kami startle. Her father looked in, and Kami saw the crease of worry between his brows ease when he saw them all there. Another thing that shocked Kami was seeing both her parents so scared.

  “I’m calling this one a snow day,” Dad said. “Come on. Let’s all have porridge and honey and hot chocolate, and build snowmen. You in?”

  Tomo woke up, flailing wildly like a small windmill that had found itself trapped in a bed. Ten was already uncurling, looking alert and happy.

  “Thanks, Dad,” Kami said. “But though your offer is generous and chocolaty, I think I’m going to school. Lots of work to get done.”

  You can’t find them, Lillian Lynburn had said. But she was wrong.

  * * *

  It seemed like everyone had had the same idea as Kami’s dad. There were a few kids standing in front of the school, but the school’s windows were dark, the doors barred. None of Kami’s friends were in sight except for Ash: Kami imagined Angela had taken one look at the snow and decided she was officially in hibernation.

  But Amber Green was there, and Kami had stolen one of her pencils. Ash had said he could use Amber’s possession to make sure they could see Amber no matter what spells she cast to make herself invisible. Ash had also agreed to help Kami.

  “I think your plan is insane,” said Ash.

  Ash agreeing was really the important part.

  “Trailing someone is a classic maneuver,” Kami told him. “My plan is elegant in its simplicity. Walk with me now.”

  Kami gestured to Ash to follow her through the school gates. She walked with him down the path along the wall, ostensibly heading up toward Aurimere, then gestured to him to go down low.

  Ash crouched in the icy grass and gave Kami another baffled and pleading look. Kami smiled at him encouragingly and moved back along the wall, keeping low, so nobody would see their heads over the wall as they returned to the school. Just before a curve in the wall, Kami stopped. She could see the gate from here, and see people trickling out.

  Ash leaned toward her, his jean-clad knee pressing against hers. “What on earth are we doing?”

  “Shhh,” Kami reproved him. “The first rule of stakeout is no talking on stakeout! And you’re already in trouble for not remembering the second rule of stakeout, which is bring me doughnuts.”

  Ash subsided into a worried silence, which he preserved until they watched Amber Green and her boyfriend, Ross Phillips, take a left directly from the gate, instead of heading down to Sorry-in-the-Vale and their homes. Kami squeezed herself against the curve of the wall and prayed they would not see her, gesturing for Ash to do the same.

  Once Amber and Ross had passed, Ash said, “What if they’re just going off to . . . uh, you know. Be alone together.” His already cold-flushed face turned even pinker. He was so handsome and so embarrassed it was impossible not to smile at him.

  “Then we’ll go away very quickly,” Kami promised. “This is how it goes. Shadowing people is frequently the tawdry part of an investigation.”

  “How many investigations have you actually conducted?” Ash asked doubtfully.

  Kami chose not to dignify that with a response. She moved past Ash and followed Amber and Ross, whose path soon diverged away from the wall, the town, and Aurimere. Their course was clearly set west of the town, which was mostly overgrown fields. It was like a moor, crisscrossed with dirt lanes leading nowhere. One such lane led to Monkshood Abbey, the house where Rob’s parents had lived, and killed.

  Amber and Ross were tiny dark figures in the lane, small shadowy shapes against a framework of pearl-glistening boughs, banks of snow-crowned undergrowth, and snow-lined stiles and gates. Carts or cars had obviously passed down the lane this morning: there were two dark furrows in the pale surface of the snow. Amber and Ross were each walking in one of the lines in the snow when they blurred, their dark shapes suddenly lost to Kami’s eyes as if they had been stirred into the landscape like sugar cubes in a glass of hot milk.

  Ash cut himself off midswear with a guilty look at Kami, clutched at the pencil, and muttered some other words under his breath.

  Amber’s form coalesced back into view, blurred at first, then clearer and clearer. Kami could see snowflakes settle, like shining pieces of lace, in the fox fire of her hair.

  “Come on,” Kami said. “Shortcut.” She plunged into the undergrowth, brambles clawing at her jeans. She scrambled over a stile half concealed in the bush, grabbing at the snow-piled wood to boost herself over, and her white woolen gloves were instantly soaked.

  The fields stretched wide and far, a pristine blanket of white fringed with the curling darkness of trees on its borders. The sky pressed down low against the earth, a dense layer of pale gray cloud that seemed like a dark, dim reflection of the snow. Cutting diagonally across these fields meant that they would get to a certain turn in the lane before the other two did. She faced an expanse of trackless snow, a perfectly blank page.

  Kami began to run.

  * * *

  Monkshood Abbey was set at the top of a snowy slope, the dark crest on a white wave. The foot of the slope was ring
ed with fire.

  Last time Kami had seen Monkshood, the house had been deserted and the moat had been empty. The only difference now was that the door was not barred, and they watched the beacon of Amber’s hair disappear through that door into the dark.

  Monkshood seemed to lurk on top of the low hill. It was not built with the towers and wide-open windows of Aurimere. It had been built for the cadet branch of the family, Kami guessed sometime in the Victorian age: it was square and respectable, menacing as well as humble, like the cringing henchman you always knew was up to no good.

  Kami bet Rob could not wait to return to Aurimere.

  Once past the moat, Ash looked more and more nervous. Kami was aware there was nothing he wanted less in the world than to see his father. She put out a hand and slipped it in his. Ash’s fingers curled gratefully around hers.

  “We’ll just take a detour around the back and peep in through the windows. See what we can see: see if there are sorcerers there we don’t know about yet,” Kami said. “Then we’ll go.”

  Ash squeezed her hand and did not answer, but Kami took this as agreement and set off, boots sliding in the ice, away from the fire and toward the house.

  Kami headed for the window that Jared had broken last time they were here. She was not expecting to see the window still broken. Beyond the jagged glass there had been an empty room.

  “I wonder if Rob has bothered to cast a spell to protect his house from useless unmagical little me,” said Kami. “I bet he hasn’t.”

  When Ash did not move to boost her, she got a leg up on the mossy windowsill and did it herself with a grunt of effort. Her palms got skinned as she tumbled in.

  “Kami,” Ash whispered, from the other side of the window frame. “Kami, you can’t—”

  “I’m just going to take a look,” Kami whispered back.

  There was furniture in the room now, a desk, a chair, and a lamp. Kami picked up a pen from the desk and put it in her pocket, because she was now a kleptomaniac for great justice. The door leading to the rest of the house was slightly open, and through the small space Kami saw movement and heard voices. She turned and met Ash’s horror-struck gaze through the broken window.