“No, she isn’t,” says my grandfather, sternly.
“Of course,” Goodfellow whispers. “Why else would the king and queen have brought you here? They need you to make good on their promise to Fell. Yes, our precious volumes, and the girl who can read them, in exchange for Fell’s latest batch of Forgetsum. Why, it all makes perfect sense now . . .”
My stomach turns at those words. I have to get us out of this. “Goodfellow, we need to get our hands on your volume and get out of here. Please, help us.”
“Help you? But I do believe you can help yourselves once I show you.”
A match strikes the wall. A quiet flame lights up the dark. Goodfellow holds it close, illuminating the deep lines of his tired face. His eyes flicker with delight as he turns, lighting up the brick wall behind him. “Yes, yes, here it is . . . the volume . . . the book.”
I look to the wall, then to Goodfellow. “You mean it’s in here?”
“Of course. Here is the only place Oberon doesn’t like to be. He sends others to do his bidding to me. Somewhere under that thick crown-covered skull of his, he still remembers who I am. I guess he doesn’t quite have the stomach for torture.”
“You’ve been guarding it all these years? I can’t believe this. He’s dangerous,” Grandpa says. “He and Titania must be stopped.”
“Oh, you can’t stop him, my good man. You see, the king has the people behind him now. Which is why you must take my volume and get out of here.” Goodfellow feels each brick carefully, pauses, then blows out the flame.
“Eight from the ground, six from the corner. Listen to me very carefully,” Goodfellow whispers. “After they come for me, retrieve the book from behind the cylinder block. Eight and six. Remember eight and six.”
“What do you mean after they come for you?” I ask. “Goodfellow, we won’t let them take you.”
“You must!” he shouts. “That is your way out. Don’t you see? Now that they have you, there is nothing to stop them making good on their promise to Fell except the volume. They will torture me to give it up. And when they do, you must run.”
“We can escape together. All of us. If you just tell us the way out!”
“There is no way . . . I am the way out. I will be a distraction.”
“No, we can’t let you!” Ros says. “We will fight!”
“That’s the right spirit, indeed, but use it for yourselves. You see, it was my alchemy that broke this Sovereign. And it will be my blood spilled to save it.”
The voices are above us, reverberating off the walls. The sounds of footsteps echo in the dark.
“When you get the volume, you must not let them take you. No matter what happens, you must not go with Fell.”
“How can I stop them? What can I do?”
“Think!” he whispers. “You have what they want. On the inside. But if you go with them, they are going to take it from you. As sure as hell hath its fury, they are going to take everything you are, Noelle.”
The footsteps draw nearer. Whoever is in here is coming toward us. I hear their movements behind the metal door.
“Eight and six, remember eight and six.” He lowers his voice as the door unbolts. “If you remember nothing else, remember that.”
The metal door swings open, releasing a flood of fluorescent light into the room. I shield my eyes, trying to see the face of the shadow standing before me. He moves in closer and kneels down to Goodfellow. The shadow presses his palms together. “Hi, Dad,” Obe says. “Are you ready to give me my book yet?”
NOELLE
THIRTY
Torture. It’s the word repeating inside my head. His screams eat through me, each deafening wail acid in my ears. Goodfellow not only knew Oberon would come for him, he willed it. My stomach lurches as he absorbs each blow with a stifled moan. It’s only a matter of time until they break him. I decide not to let that happen.
I crawl toward the place where Goodfellow was sitting against the wall. In the corner, I feel for the box of matches and strike one.
“They’re going to kill him, aren’t they?” Ros says quietly.
“Not if I can help it. I’m going to get that volume. Here,” I say, handing the match to Ros. “Hold this.”
“Oberon wants the volume,” Grandpa says solemnly. “He’ll do anything to get it.”
Ros holds the match steadily, while I position the ropes around my hands to the small flame until their pieces start to burn and fray. I wriggle my hands free before freeing my feet, then I untie Grandpa and Ros.
“Eight and six,” Ros says. “What do you think he meant?”
An excruciating crack followed by a desperate cry echo through the chamber. Goodfellow howls uncontrollably, his screams inhuman.
“The bricks,” I say. “We need to hurry.” I count from the corner where I found the matches. “Eight up and six across.” I stop, my hands on a brick. I wedge my nails around the edges and feel it wiggle. “This is it!”
I pry the brick from the wall. I reach in and feel a soft muslin cloth wrapping something rectangular and firm. I pull it out and cradle it in my lap. The distinct smell of leather and pages hits me. “I have it,” I whisper and pull back the muslin to reveal the cover. Volume III.
“Elle . . . ,” my grandfather says. But I know what he’s going to say, and it’s too late. I know what I need to do. I lift the precious volume to my heart and stand. My voice booms inside the chamber.
“Stop, Oberon!” I yell at the top of my lungs. “I have your book!”
“Noelle, are you crazy? What are you doing?” Ros asks.
“Set Goodfellow and everyone free, and it’s yours!”
The far-off screams die down to whimpers. I pray Goodfellow is still alive. “You hear me, Oberon? You want to make your deal with Fell, make one with me first. Let everyone go, and I’ll cooperate with you!”
Something moves in Ledger’s corner. I crawl to him, the volume in my arms. “Elle?” he breathes. “What’s happening?”
“You’re awake!” I manage. Carefully my hands find his shirt, the stitching of his collar. Beneath it the warmth of his neck radiates into me.
He moves toward me, his eyes finding me in the darkness. “Please tell me you’re okay?”
A current passes between us, sure and strong. I feel a relief explode inside me, like a flash breaking up the night sky. It’s then that I realize just how much I care for him.
“I’m fine,” I whisper. “We’re all fine. But there’s something I have to do to get us out of here.”
Before he can respond, Goodfellow’s whimpering ceases. Footsteps near the door. “What is happening?” Ros says in a gravelly whisper.
The door clangs open. Two figures stare down at us, casting long shadows across the damp ground.
“Noelle?” Ledger says. “What have you done?”
“It’s going to be okay,” I tell him. “It’s me they want, remember?”
“No,” he utters. “No—”
There isn’t time to debate it any further. Oberon stands, looking at all of us, untied, the volume in my hands. “I see you went and started the party without me.”
“Enough, Oberon,” I say. “I have what you’re looking for.” I hold up the volume. His eyes widen into two golf balls. “You can let everyone go now that you have this. All you need is me and the books.”
Oberon narrows his eyes, but I hold firm. “You think you have a choice?” he says at last. “But you know what? I’ve already decided to let them go. Once I turn you over to Fell, as I was always going to do.”
“Fine,” I say, closing my eyes. “Then let’s be done with it.”
“Noelle! No!” Ledger shouts and lunges toward Obe.
“Restrain him!” Obe shouts. His men rush Ledger, pinning him back against the wall.
Obe pushes the door all the way open, revealing a man with bronze skin. His eyes find me in the dark. I recognize the glint in them instantly, the long scars etched across his scalp. It’s Scythe. “She’s all
yours,” Obe says to him.
Scythe observes me. A smile creeps across his face as he comes for me. “Wonderful.”
“Noelle!” Ledger shouts as he struggles against the two men holding him.
“Help her, Ledger!” Grandpa cries. “Please!”
Ledger pounds his fists against the wall, raging under the grip of Oberon’s guards. My grandfather buries his head in his hands, sobbing. Ros consoles him, looking back and forth between us, helplessly. But there is nothing I can do. I cannot look at them as I turn myself toward Scythe and Oberon. No one can save me. I know that now. Not Ledger or my grandfather. Not the volumes or the dream of the Rising’s leader, or the stories I’ve accumulated inside me. This is for me to do. Only I can save myself.
I let my eyes burn into Scythe with my intention, letting him know I am not afraid.
“Wait a sec,” Scythe says, turning to Obe. “Give me the rest of them, too.”
“What?” Obe says. “But that wasn’t part of the—”
“You heard me,” Scythe spits. “I want all these boolos.”
“All right. Okay. Fine,” Obe says. “You heard the man,” he shouts to his guards. “Round up the old man and the other two. They go with Fell.”
“What? No!” I shout. “That wasn’t the deal!”
“It’s not your deal,” Scythe yells at me. “It never was.”
Oberon’s men round up my grandfather, plus Ledger and Ros.
“You sure aren’t going your own way now,” Scythe says, pressing my shoulder against the wall. “You belong to me.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Ros starts yelling and kicking as the guards grab her and yank my grandfather up from the floor.
“Don’t you dare hurt her!” he yells. “So help me, I will kill you myself!”
“You, old man?” Scythe says. “You will do nothing. Just like all you boolos. You’re as worthless as your words.”
He brandishes a chemi-taser in Grandpa’s face, but Obe stops him. “No, don’t. Not in here,” he says. “Let’s get our deal done first.”
Scythe lowers the weapon. “Fine. But I want to watch all these boolos bleed.”
The guards secure our hands and push us toward the exit. We’re ushered along a dimly lit corridor. I turn halfway toward Ledger, my grandfather, and Ros, who are each in their own personal fits of torture. My eyes fill with tears. “You’re lucky,” Scythe says, his lips brushing my ear. “Cadge wants you alive.”
Obe leads us to a stairwell, whistling the whole time, as we go up one level. They open the door, flooding the corridor with blinding light. They drag us outside into the midday sun. I cover my face and try to make out our surroundings. Scythe shoves me forward. I grit my teeth as my body hits the hot ground. I look up into the haze of a vast, empty parking lot.
“Line them up,” Scythe orders. “Over there.”
The men push Grandfather, Ros, and Ledger into a row, then stand behind them with chemi-tasers just inches from their heads.
“Don’t worry about us,” Grandpa calls. He gives me a weak smile. “Don’t give in to them, Elle,” he says. “Please . . .”
Scythe marches over to him and clocks my grandfather on his right ear with the butt of his hand. “Quiet, old man,” he says. “Or I’ll get you to execute your friends for me.”
I want to scream, to fight back, but I know none of that will lead to anything but more blood. I hold myself back, unable to move. I’m petrified.
A black vehicle pulls up alongside us. My stomach churns when I see it. It may be unmarked, but I’d recognize the contour anywhere. Fell’s official transport. The windows are blacked out. If I get inside that car, I’m never going to escape. I have to stop this somehow.
Scythe yanks me up and pushes me toward the car. He opens the door, and I see the backpack with the volumes already inside. Those are my books. From the Winnow, Pedanta, Ardenia. Scythe forces me inside. I fall hard and fast onto the floor of the vehicle. Scythe flings the book in after me. It strikes the edge of the seat and lands splayed on the floor. I reach for it and the backpack.
“All right, you got the goods. And the girl. So where’s the stuff?” Obe says impatiently.
Scythe walks around to the trunk of the vehicle and pulls something out. When he comes back, he’s holding a small silver box.
“That’s it?” Obe says. “That’s all of it?”
He nods once. “That’s it.”
Obe opens the silver box. I watch his face explode into a smile. “Jesus, they’re so tiny. I could slip one of these into just about anything.”
“It’s concentrated,” Scythe says. “Those are nano-pills.”
“Genius,” Obe says, marveling at a packet of incredibly small silver pills, each no bigger than a freckle. He takes a deep inhalation of the packet. Obe then looks at Scythe, alarmed. “There’s no smell.”
“Cadge engineered it out. The smell is pointless. You don’t need it.”
“Whatever,” Obe says, taking another whiff. “I love this shit.”
“Good,” Scythe sneers. “Then we’re done here.” He comes round to the door to close it, but I kick out my foot, blocking it from shutting.
“Wait!” I shout, sitting up to face him. “Are you sure this is really the best deal you can make?”
“What are you talking about?” Scythe spits.
I swallow my nerves and try to make my voice sound calm, assured. I pull the backpack onto my lap. “You only have four volumes in here. That’s not enough.”
“Not enough?”
“You mean you don’t know?” I say, feigning surprise. “There are five more out there you need if you want to understand why the Risers left them behind. That is what Mr. Cadge wants me to do, isn’t it?”
Scythe turns away from me, rubbing his ear. “Say that it is,” he says. “What exactly are you proposing?”
“Well,” I say, shrugging my shoulders nonchalantly. “I just think your deal was poorly timed. If you had come for me, say, in a week, I’d have all the volumes. All nine of them . . .” I stare at him, letting my voice darken. “But if you’re content to go back to Cadge with just these, a job half-done, that’s your call.”
Scythe turns away, his eyes concerned. He holds his ear again as if he’s listening to something. He nods once, then turns back to me. “Mr. Cadge wants to know how you intend to recover the others.”
“The same way I got these,” I tell him. “Get the Sovereigns to trust me. Not something you’ll have an easy time with.”
“Wait a minute.” Obe steps forward. “There’s been an exchange of goods here! The deal is already done. You can’t just renege on our arrangement because of her! She’s nobody, just some stupid girl. You’re going to trust what she tells you? A boolo, for crying out loud?”
Scythe holds up one hand. “Be quiet, man-child,” he growls. “This doesn’t concern you.”
Oberon clams up and steps back.
“Look,” I begin. “This doesn’t change your deal with Oberon. He’s met his terms. He got me here, didn’t he?”
Scythe nods once, and Obe looks furiously from me to Scythe.
“Good. So he should get to keep his . . . his . . . reward. What I’m talking about is a new deal. Just between us.”
“Are you really going to listen to this? Is Cadge?” Obe says belligerently. “I mean, c’mon. I thought we had a good thing going here?”
“I told you—be quiet, Oberon,” Scythe snarls. He turns to listen to his earpiece. “Mr. Cadge wants to know what terms you are proposing for this new deal.”
“You let my friends and family go, and we take the volumes with us.” Scythe narrows his eyes. “And then, once I have the other five volumes in my possession . . . I surrender.”
“And what assurances will we have?”
“What assurances do you need? You’re Fell, aren’t you? Or have you forgotten that we know what you do to people?” I say brashly.
Scythe glares at me, making me
instantly regret what I said. But he turns abruptly to his earpiece and then back to me, his teeth gritted. “Mr. Cadge says he agrees. But there are some conditions.”
“I expected there would be.” My heart starts beating furiously.
“We will be watching you,” he says. “And if we even so much as smell the scent of betrayal on you, if you even so much as indicate the slightest intent not to honor our arrangement, there will be severe consequences.”
“You wouldn’t want to kill me,” I say. “You need me, remember? I’m the only one who can read these.”
“Maybe you are, and maybe you aren’t,” Scythe says. “But that isn’t what Mr. Cadge means.”
“He’s talking about your family,” Obe butts in. “He’s saying he will kill your family.”
Scythe glares at Obe, then nods once.
“You already took my parents from me,” I say.
“The old man will die. And the boy, and anyone else you care about,” he says. “Believe me, I would take great pleasure in watching them suffer. I feel slightly deprived of late.”
“You will be deprived further,” I say bitterly. “Because I don’t intend to go back on my word. You wanted terms, so let’s set some terms. If I do this, if I get you the nine volumes and turn myself over to you, I want some assurances of my own.”
“I’m listening . . .”
I take a deep breath. “One. You will not attack or invade any more Sovereigns. Instead, you will wait for me to recover all nine volumes. And there will be peace for us in the meantime.”
“Like a truce?” Obe says. “You actually want a truce with Fell?”
“Yes.” I second-guess myself for a split second but try not to show it. “I absolutely do.”
“Anything else?”
“Two. You leave my family and friends alone. Indefinitely.”
“Agreed,” Scythe says. “Is that it?”
“No,” I tell him. “Three. You tell me what happened to my parents. I want to know how they died, whether they suffered.”
Scythe lifts an eyebrow and turns away, listening to the voice in his ear. “Mr. Cadge has agreed to your terms. But likewise, if you fail to deliver any part of your side of the deal, we will come for you and everyone you care about. And we will make you bear witness to their ending. Your family and friends are our insurance policy. None of you will speak of our arrangement. You will not breathe a word. Do you understand?”
Blood, Ink & Fire Page 27