The Forgotten Mountain (The Collectors' Society Book 3)

by Heather Lyons

  The doctor nods. “As I can’t merely draw blood, I’m guessing our best bet is to have a small, horizontal cut on whichever is your non-dominant wrist. It—”

  The A.D. jerks back, gripping a wrist with his other hand. “I am not going to commit suicide in this bloody Timeline!”

  Victor sighs. “Any cut like that, shallow as the one I will make, would coagulate before any true harm can come. And I’ll be stitching us all up afterward—although Mary will have to sew me. Even I cannot sew myself up one handed.”

  His love’s smile is a bit sad when she presses a gentle kiss against his cheek.

  “I sharpened my scalpels before coming, so if there is even a scar afterward, it would be faint.”

  “He’s excellent at stitches.” Mary lets go of Victor so she can dig out some of the bandaging from his bag. “They’re always quite neat.” She passes a strip to each of us, explaining that as soon as we have offered our blood, we’re to press firmly against the wound until it can be stitched.

  “Are you sure you do not want Victor to make the incision?” I ask Grymsdyke.

  “I am positive.” He jumps onto a nearby, tall rock. “I do not have veins, not like you. I will bleed differently.” He rises on several of his feet, baring his abdomen. “A small, shallow cut, just north of the midway point will do.”

  I must admit, I am terrified of the prospect. My talent with a blade is as a fighter, not a surgeon. What if I cut too hard? Crush him? He has been so loyal to me over the years. “Will you at least concede to Victor stitching you up?”

  I think if he could smile, he would. “Your Majesty, I possess an exoskeleton. A bandage will do.”

  “Let us do him last,” Victor says. “I’ll talk you through it, okay?”

  He begins with Mary, and then the A.D., with strict instructions that they hold their arms above their hearts until we are ready to make our offerings. Finn is next, and then me. When it comes time to cut Grymsdyke, my love gently cradles the assassin in his hands, ensuring a safe place for me to work.

  Victor passes me the smallest scalpel he’s brought, pointing to the area the spider indicated. “Here. You’ll want to put enough pressure to break the exoskeleton, but not too much to go in deep. The length should be a millimeter, at most.”

  I already feel the drip, drip, drip from my own wrist. Yet it does not matter, not when there is such a delicate matter before me.

  I will my hands not to shake. I take a deep breath and remind myself that I have been able to throw a blade across a battlefield and meet my target. That, when I put my mind to it, nothing is impossible. Not even cutting a millimeter length upon a spider whose venom would kill me in less than a minute.

  Grymsdyke stills. He trusts me to do what is right, even though the thirst for vengeance burns in my throat.

  I lean forward and take one more steadying breath. And then I gently, yet firmly, drag the blade across his abdomen. A bubble of blue blood surfaces.

  “Excellent,” Victor whispers before drawing the larger scalpel across his own wrist.

  Now that we all bleed, we all hold out our wrists over the water, allowing the blood to drip into the gray depths. Finn holds Grymsdyke’s body out alongside his own wrist, so that the spider’s blood mixes with ours. I do not know about the rest, but I close my eyes and offer my intentions to the river.

  I intend to assure the safety of millions of souls I have never met, so that they do not simply cease to exist one day without warning.

  I intend to find the Piper and exact justice for what he has done to those I love and those I do not know.

  I intend to ensure the friends with me here—and each is truly my friend, my family—walk away from the forthcoming battles and return home.

  I intend to do exactly what it takes to achieve these ends, even if the meal the Caterpillar warned me about aches within my belly.

  The wind picks up, whispering past us with a mournful sigh. Tiny ripples form in the water from each drop of lifeblood we sacrifice, and I do not think I am imagining it when I see the river is eating up what we have to offer.

  After a while, Victor urges us all to press the bandages against our wrists as we wait for him to stitch us up. Grymsdyke is taken care of first with simply a dot of antibiotic cream and a bandage. While Victor is sewing up Mary, whispering loving words that leave the A.D. and Grymsdyke surreptitiously moving away, Finn takes me aside.

  “I love you, you know.”

  How is it that, each time he says this to me, feels just as magnificent as the first? “I love you, too.”

  He ducks his head, pulls me behind a tree. “Mother Holle said that true love is what saves us. What may save us in the end.”

  I touch his cheek, already knowing where he is going with this. “It is a good idea.”

  His eyes, filled with so much concern and sincerity, widen in surprise. Silly man.

  “Your blood saved me.” I lean forward and brush my lips against his. “Mine saved you. We are about to head into the bowels of hell, with no knowledge of what is to meet us there. It cannot hurt for us to ensure a bit more of each into the other as we go into battle. You’re my north star, Finn. My binary. ”

  Mother Holle wondered if true love would be enough to save us in the coming days. Instinct tells me it will—it always will. How could it not, with feelings as strong as these?

  Finn’s forehead comes to rest upon mine. “I swear, sometimes it’s like you read my mind.”

  “And you mine.”

  “I know it’s actually unhygienic—”

  I cannot help but laugh quietly at his sweetness.

  “—especially in this day and age . . .” He pauses. “Well, okay. Not this particular day and age, but—”

  “I know what you mean.”

  I can practically feel his own smile growing, his mouth is so close to mine. “On a lot of levels, doing something like this is kind of kid-like—”

  “Kid-like! How so?”

  “You’ve never heard of how sometimes kids prick their fingers so they can hold them up against each other and become blood brothers or sisters?”

  My lips tug up. “Not at all.”

  His laugh is not much more than a breath. And then, more seriously, “I can’t stand the thought that anything could happen to you when we finally find him, Alice. They’ve threatened you more than once.”

  Just as I cannot tolerate any further attempts on his person.

  Standing beneath that tree, we press our bleeding wrists against one another. The flow has slowed, thankfully, but there is enough to mix together.

  Not all fairy tales have happy endings, this much is true. There are times when the innocent suffer, the good are defeated, and evil and wickedness reign supreme. I refuse to allow such an ending to this fairy tale, or my own. I cannot fail in this quest. None of us can.

  “ANYONE?” THE A.D. THROWS a rock into the river. “Anything?”

  Mary yawns, rubbing at the white bandaging sticking out from beneath her sleeve. She is seated between Victor’s legs, her head resting against his chest. “It’s not as if a map was going to appear in thin air.”

  “Why the hell not? We’re in fairy tale land! Shite like that happens all the time.”

  At least three-fourths of an hour has passed since the last of us was sewn up by the doctor. I must admit, I can understand the Artful Dodger’s frustration, as it’s percolating within my chest, too.

  “Maybe we should go back,” he’s saying to no one in particular. “See if the Society was able to track him down in New York.”

  “What the hell, man?” Finn snaps a twig and tosses one of the pieces onto the ground next to him. “You don’t get an answer at the snap of your fingers and you want to tuck your tail between your legs and call it a day?”

  “We’re running in circles!” The A.D. grabs chunks of his greasy blond hair. “Who knows if that bastard managed to get his slimy hands on another catalyst while we’re picking our noses, trying to find a bloody
mountain that probably doesn’t even exist!”

  “It does,” comes a voice from the tree above us.

  But the A.D. has worked himself into a lather, for he continues, “For all we know—”

  “Jack?”

  He looks over at me, eyes wide.

  “Cease your ranting.”

  His mouth appropriately snaps shut.

  I glance up into the branches. My assassin climbed up earlier, searching for a bite to eat. “You were saying, Grymsdyke?”

  “There is a mountain beyond the river, Your Majesty. It is swathed in fog, but I see it.”

  Everyone leaps to his or her feet. Both Finn and Victor immediately grab hold of lower branches and pull themselves up to where the spider is. A minute or two passes before Victor calls down, “I’ll be damned! He’s right! There’s a mountain across the river, to the west!”

  “The base is probably a half-day’s ride,” Finn offers. “Maybe even less.”

  I’m already scanning the length of the river to locate a bridge. And there, like a miracle, one appears in the far distance.

  The river came through for us after all.

  Our horses are reluctant to leave behind the grasses they’ve munched on, but we are soon making our way down the length of the waterway, toward the bridge. And from there, toward Koppenberg Mountain.

  ONCE WE CROSS THE river, our view of the mountain sharpens. Not so tall that any adventurer would seek it out for glory’s sake, it still manages to loom in the distance like a gray and green prison. We soon find a small, neglected dirt path that moves in that direction, but the horses are forced to go in single file to fit through the trees. The woods are nearly as quiet as Hamelin had been, with precious little proof of insects, birds, or animals, and for some time, the only sounds to be heard are those of the horses’ hooves. None of us talk much—if I had to guess, I’d say we’re all considering the intentions we offered up to the river earlier.

  We have no solid plan of attack yet, having no clue what the lay of the land is. It’s not the first time any of us have gone into an assignment blind—hell, that’s practically standard at the Society. But it feels distinctly different this time, as if we don’t get our shit together the very second we reach Koppenberg, it’ll be our doom. That pathetic sack of shit Jenkins claims there is a king and queen of the mountain, and I didn’t get the feeling he was being metaphorical. A king and queen typically need somewhere to rule, and instinct tells me that whatever cave the Piper dragged all those kids he kidnapped so long ago into is probably just the place we need to find. Jenkins also mentioned some kind of convergence, and if that’s going down any time soon, it’s going to complicate matters.

  Outside of stealth and no prisoners, there’s not much more we can even expect.

  It takes us far less time to reach the base of the mountain than I thought it would, maybe three hours at the most. A thorough survey of the area presents a small path that appears to climb up into the trees and rocks.

  Victor squints as he traces the visible path as far as he can upward. “What do you think?”

  I don’t know what to think, to be honest. It could be a decoy, leading to who-the-hell-knows-where. But it could also be legit and take us exactly where we need to go. Time is running out, though, and our options are dwindling. Chances are, the Piper’s got his hands on a new catalyst by now. He might have even destroyed one while we’ve been making our way through 1812GRI-CHT and 1816/18GRI-GT. Hell, we don’t even know if this is where he is, except for the dying ravings of a mass murderer.

  And still, I tell my brother, “We’ll have to take the risk.”

  After the pace we’ve set for them over the past few days, the horses are exhausted once we dismount. We cannot just tie them up, though, not when we have no idea when or if we’ll actually come back out of the mountain. There’s always a chance we’ll hike up there and find nothing. There’s also a chance we’ll find that cave. It’s best to let them go now.

  While bags and weapons are collected and situated, and canteens checked for water filled from the river we offered sacrifices to, I tell the group, “Obviously, having spent several days out of it, I have no idea what the Society’s latest policy is right now. For all I know, Brom and the others expect us to drag the Piper’s ass back to New York for interrogation. We all have a ton of questions, sure, but I gotta tell you, I’m not expecting any of you to risk anything to subdue that bastard. If you have a shot, take it. This monster has done too much damage to risk anything other than certainty.”

  “Damn right, I’m going to take a shot,” the A.D. mutters.

  “We know he has well over a hundred children he’s been manipulating for centuries. If they’re anything like Todd or Rosemary, you need to remember to remain vigilant at all times. I don’t know if they can be redeemed, to be honest, but what I do know is that none of them are going to take kindly to us storming their hideout.” I rub at my hair. “Provided there is a hideout up there. It sounds callous, but they’re not my concern right now. I’m concerned about Timelines that have no idea about this bastard and his cult, and the millions of people within each who might just disappear because he thinks it’s within his rights to choose whether or not they die.”

  “Do you think it possible, if the Piper is taken out, the others might revert to their original states?” Mary asks. Grymsdyke is perched on her shoulder at the moment, listening quietly.

  “He was not the only one who has manipulated them,” Alice says in a flat voice. “If our suspicions are correct, we will also have the thirteenth Wise Woman to contend with. We cannot take our chances with either of them, not when the stakes are so high.”

  “And she’s a wild card,” Victor muses. “Outside of that blade, we’ve had no contact with her so far. We don’t even know what she looks like.”

  “We know she’s dangerous,” I say. “And we know she has the ability to transform people into whatever the Chosen are. We may have the twelfth Wise Woman’s enchantment and blessings, but you guys heard what she said. We’re still at risk. Don’t ever forget that. It may come from a blade or her lips, but someone like her can do a hell of a lot of damage.”

  “Plus, there are the pipes,” Mary says. “And from the surveillance footage, we’ve learned that there are quite a bit of children who know how to play them just as effectively as the Piper. We’re just as much at risk for falling under that spell as any other up there.”

  That reminds me . . .”You said you have two pairs of ear plugs?” I ask the A.D.

  He digs in his bag and produces a small metal case. “No idea what Wen meant them for, but yeah. Two pairs.”

  “Considering you’re able to slip into a lot of places unseen better than the rest of us, you ought to wear one of them. We’re going to need your eyes to find out whatever you can.”

  He nods, but it’s uncomfortably done, like he knows I’ve just given him a huge cushion most of us will not have.

  “I think Mary ought to have the other pair,” Victor says.

  Her eyes widen. “Why me? Shouldn’t it be someone who is a better fighter?”

  “Because I happen to know, having rooted around your bag a little, that you brought a nice little set of poisons with you. We may have need for them, and if you’re hypnotized away, they won’t do us any good.”

  “Agreed.” I clear my throat before turning to Grymsdyke. “I’ve never asked you before exactly how much venom you have.”

  The spider twitches. “As much as required.”

  “I meant, can you bite more than one person within a certain time period?”

  “My fangs are strong.”

  I try my best not to roll my eyes. I like the guy, but sometimes, getting answers out of him isn’t always the easiest.

  “Everyone on board?”

  All I see is acceptance and eagerness to get this show on the road. And so we do.

  We’ve been hiking for a couple of hours, and despite the cool, misty weather, I’m sweating. Nobod
y is complaining about being tired, though, not even the A.D. The path, if you can even call it that, is uneven, filled with rocks and holes, and has quite a bit of vegetation creeping across it. Some parts have been steep, others not so much. And as we make our way up, all I can think is: Thank God this isn’t Everest.

  Just when I fear we’re less than an hour from the top, I see it. Winding off to the side, maybe a few hundred feet away, with trees bending around it in unnatural angles, is the mouth of a cave.

  I hold up a hand and then motion a pair of fingers in the direction. Everyone stops and looks.

  The A.D. fist pumps. “It’s about damn time.”

  There are no visible guards to consider. And still, my hand goes to one of my guns. Behind me, the hiss of a blade cuts through the air. A light press against a shoulder tells me Alice is here, she has my back.

  I send the A.D. to scout the area, ears plugged, grudgingly impressed at how he always manages to disappear in any kind of environment when he wants to. I maintain a watch on the entrance. From what I can see, there’s no movement. No indication that this is anything other than a cave on a mountain—only logic tells me it’s a hell of a lot more than that.

  Hairs prickle on the back on my neck. Something feels off, something I can’t put a finger on.

  He returns a quarter of an hour later. “There’s nothing, no one. There are also no animals, Finn. No birds. No insects. And there’s a ring of dead plants low to the ground, about twenty feet back from the entrance. I can’t say for sure, but the shriveled berries look like those from the belladonna plant.”

  “Did you get a view into the cave at all?”

  “Just inside, to the left, there is a lip that narrows the entrance by well over half.” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Outside of that, all I saw was darkness.”

  We have no flashlights. No cell phones. No candles, no lanterns. We literally are going in blind.

  Or not, because Mary says, “Hold on a sec.” She squats down, rifling through her bag. “I might have also nicked something from the lab. I can’t believe I forgot about it until just now. Where is my head?” Within a few seconds, a handful of the Society’s special glasses are held aloft.