Button Hill

by Michael Bradford

  “I see it. I think she took more than we knew.” Dekker looked down at his sister and saw a small tear running down her cheek.

  “What do we do?” she said.

  A woman’s voice responded from the far side of the dining hall. “A high price to pay, indeed. But perhaps we can find a way to make amends.” The governess glided across the room toward them, her velvet robe swishing against the floor.

  Riley quickly stepped away from the mirror and wiped her eyes. “We were honored to receive your invitation to dinner, your royal—um—royalness.”

  Narcissa arched an eyebrow imperiously and smiled. “And lucky, I hear. My valet says the Hirodu who encourage citizens to respect the curfew were positively fascinated with you.”

  “They were sniffing around,” said Riley.

  “Then my invitation was well timed. It seems you are in my debt, child.”

  “We’ll try to repay you,” said Dekker. “In the meantime, we were hoping you could tell us about this place.”

  Narcissa pulled out a chair out at the head of the table and sat down. “Of course. But come, sit. You must be weary from your journey.” She motioned to either side of her. When Dekker sat down, he found he was sitting quite a bit lower than he was used to and had to tilt his head up to see Narcissa’s face. She picked up a tiny bell between her finger and thumb and rang it. Its crisp chime cut the air. Another skeleton, a much shorter one this time, entered the room from the same side door through which the first had left. He bore a silver tray holding three crystal glasses and a tall silver pitcher. He filled the glasses with a clear liquid and set them on the table before retreating. “Water from Dayside. Safe for both of you.”

  “Thanks,” said Riley, taking a large gulp. “I’m so thirsty.”

  Narcissa surveyed Dekker with her violet eyes. “Why do you not drink also? Surely you are parched from your sojourn to our fair city?”

  Dekker held up his left arm, which was missing bits of bone and fingertips. “As you can see, I’m beyond the need for water. In fact, my aunt says it’s bad for me now.”

  Narcissa laughed, a papery sound that made her seem older somehow. “A living girl and her undead brother. I was surprised when my daughter ventured here before her time, but three at once is unheard of.” She clasped her hands together and lounged back in her chair. “Tell me, children, what brings you this deep into Nightside? While you must have encountered many dangers on your way, surely you know how difficult it will be to go back. It must be something terribly important to you.”

  “Yes, ma’am, it is,” said Dekker.

  Silence stretched out as Dekker tried to think of what to say.

  Riley stood up and took a shaky breath. “Oh forget it. The heart everyone was bidding on? It belongs to Dekker. He’s only mostly dead. We need the heart to bring him back to life.”

  Narcissa bared her gleaming white teeth. “Well, this changes everything. I wish you’d been more open with me at the auction. We could have avoided all this confusion.”

  Riley tried to smile. “Well, we didn’t really know who you were or anything. Plus, you cut off my hair.”

  “Yeah,” added Dekker. “But we know now. If there’s anything you can do to help us open the station, that would be great. Then we’ll have to get going.”

  The governess laughed again. “Nonsense. We shall complete your quest together. With your assistance, we shall rebuild this city to its former glory.”

  “You mean you’ll help me get my heart?” said Dekker.

  “Yes, of course. But you have committed to providing the key to the station in order to complete your task. And I will help you.” Narcissa leaned forward. “Now, begin by telling me what you know.”

  “Well, we know no one can enter the station from the city,” said Dekker.

  The governess smiled, and her smile sucked the heat out of the room. “What I mean is, what exactly do you know about the lost key to the station?”

  “We didn’t know there was a key,” said Dekker. “The conductor told me it was crowded because the station had been locked up.”

  Narcissa stood and stepped toward the mirror. She smoothed a loose strand of hair back into place. “That’s difficult, since we can only enter the station if delivered by the train. And as you know, Understory has no access to the rail line. Though certainly lost souls have found my city.”

  Riley furrowed her brow. “So what do we do then? That girl who got turned to stone at the auction said she tried to leave the city but couldn’t.”

  Narcissa sighed. “Alas, she spoke truly. The station closed long ago, at the end of my father’s supervision here. Understory used to be a small rest stop for the dead. It was a place in which one could prepare to move on, to transfer, if needed, no matter what the destination. Those who make this city their home have always had the duty of ensuring the dead wanted for nothing before the Passage. Now, though, there are so many trapped here that Understory is overrun.”

  “Isn’t there any way to move on?” asked Dekker.

  “There’s the Wayward Bridge, of course. One of the oldest ways and in a state of terrible disrepair. No matter how often our crews try to remake it, other forces undo all their work. One never knows what one may find along its span these days. Those who go that way never return.”

  “So, as governess, you must want the station to open again, right?” asked Riley.

  “Clever, young lady, clever. Keep it up, and you might be running Understory yourself one day, once you’re dead. I am overseeing a public-works program to solve this very problem. Since the old ways appear lost to us, we are trying to find a way to communicate with the realms beyond this one.”

  “Is that why you had Harper’s cell phone at the auction?” asked Riley. She covered her mouth as soon as she said it, but it was too late to take it back.

  Narcissa’s eyes narrowed. “What do you know of my daughter?”

  “Uh, nothing, ma’am—I mean, your honorship,” Riley stuttered. “We just met her once in Dayside, that’s all.”

  The governess tensed like a cat watching a mouse. “You know more than you are sharing.” Her face was icy and white, as if it had been sculpted from snow, and two blood-red spots glittered harshly on her cheekbones. “The only way you can get back to Dayside is through me. You will tell me everything you think you know about August Key Station. And if you do exactly as I say, I may even share a bit of the heart with you. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Crystal,” replied Dekker. “But I’m afraid there’s no way we can accept. That heart is mine, and we’re taking it back to Dayside.”

  “Young man, it’s the only choice you have,” she said.

  Dekker stood up. “Come on, Riley, we’re leaving.”

  Narcissa picked up the little bell and rang it sharply. Immediately, several blood knights oozed into the room through a low door, led by the tall skeleton who had found them in the Bizarre. Dekker and Riley were trapped. “You misunderstand your situation,” Narcissa said. “If you choose not to work with me, then I must respect your wishes. However, you will remain here in the manor until such time as you become more cooperative. Guards—show my guests to their room.”

  Anger rose inside Dekker. He clenched his fists and stepped back from the table.

  Narcissa snapped her fingers, and the blood knights moved in, their oozing suckers straining for Dekker’s chest. The skeleton guard blocked their way and drew a leather pouch from his coat, waving it in front of them. The creatures reared back, their suckers opening and closing hungrily.

  “Go ahead, dead boy.” Narcissa chortled. “I’ll have you hung in a barrel of brine until the flesh drips from your bones and you forget who you are.”

  “Come on,” said Riley. “Let’s just do what she says.”

  The skeleton threatened the blood knights with the pouch again. They retreated reluctantly and disappeared through the low door, their scabby sides scraping against the doorframe. The guard closed the door and slid the
bolt across, locking it.

  Then he took Dekker and Riley by the arm and led them toward a door on the other side of the hall. As they left, Narcissa called, “Think about my offer, children, but not for too long. You’re looking positively pale, Riley. I’m afraid a cut like that just won’t heal down here. If you overstay your welcome, you may be a guest of Understory much longer than you’d planned.”

  They were marched along a narrow corridor. Riley scowled. “We still didn’t get dinner. I’m starving.”

  The skeleton leading them spoke without turning his head. “If the Dayside princess requires sustenance, the Bone clan serves.” The lantern hanging inside his rib cage created grim shadows on the walls.

  “Call it what you want, bone man, we’re her prisoners, not her guests,” said Dekker.

  “Little brother,” he clacked, “no one still tied to the Dayside world has been marked by the Nightclock in a thousand years, not since Understory was but a few hovels beside the timeless station.” He stopped and turned, his empty sockets pointed at Riley. “And no one like you has ever come before. You are here, and the city changes. How will depend on you.”

  They passed through a hall lined with more skeletal remains set in lavish patterns on the walls. Dekker looked down; they were walking on bones, laid like brick pavers. “The governess will know if you leave the grounds. I can provide food for the young princess. Our lady said to show you to your chambers, and so I must. But if you are serious about completing your task, you require a more powerful ally. Someone who has influence over Narcissa that even she does not understand.”

  “Harper,” said Dekker.

  “Indeed. The governess has confined her to the ossuary and its grounds, behind Charnel House. The vault itself is ancient and is where the remains of Understory’s founders and other creatures of note are kept.”

  “So it’s dangerous too,” said Riley.

  “With the station shut and the Nightclock run down, everything has become dangerous. In time, even your Dayside world will be affected.” The guard finally stopped at a door at the end of the hallway. “Your room awaits.”

  “Thanks, mister,” said Riley.

  “It has been a pleasure to stand in your light, if only for a moment. May the hopes of the dead speed your travels. Farewell.”

  Nineteen

  “Look,” cried Riley. “Grilled cheese sandwiches!” She ran across the room to a small table and started devouring the food. Dekker walked to the window and looked out. The graveyard lay at the rear of the manor, shrouded in mist, a dizzying patchwork of tombstones, crypts and barrows wedged in between one another with no apparent regard for pattern or passage between them. The graves climbed the side of the mountain as far as he could see. Not far from their room Dekker could see a small gap in the high stone wall that divided the cemetery from the manor grounds.

  “I don’t think it should be too hard to get down there from here,” he said.

  Riley mumbled something, her mouth stuffed with the last of the sandwiches.

  “How can you eat at a time like this?” Dekker asked.

  “I’m starving. Aren’t you?”

  Dekker ran his fingers through his hair, and strands came loose, clinging to his fingertips like cobwebs. He breathed in deeply through his nose and sighed. “Not eating wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for the smells. Everything smells so much stronger since I died. Melted cheese and buttered toast—it’s like torture. What I wouldn’t give for a bite of one of those.”

  Riley looked guilty. “Sorry, I just ate the last one.”

  “It’s okay. I can’t anyway.”

  Riley stood up and reached for Dekker’s leather bag. “I wish Cuddles was here. You could bring him to life again. You should at least take some other stuff in case we need help again.”

  “Wait!” he cried. He tugged at the bag, and several white bone crabs spilled onto the floor.

  “What are those?” asked Riley, stepping back quickly.

  Dekker hunched over, gathering them in his arms. “The conductor gave them to me back at the station, and I stuffed them into my bag without thinking. I forgot I had them.”

  “Well, good. Let’s call them little skellies.” She patted one on the head. “Here, little skellies, good boys.”

  “That’s a stupid name, and they’re not your pets—ouch!”

  She had punched his shoulder again. “That’s for not showing me before. And they’re called little skellies.”

  He rubbed his arm and, for fear of hastening his body’s decay, held back the rude comment he wanted to make. “Fine. Little skellies. We should get out of here while we have a chance,” he said before she could punch him again.

  Dekker examined the door. It was narrow with a rounded top. Hanging on the door was the same coat of arms made of bones as they had seen at the entrance to Charnel House—a raven, wings swept back, leaning forward to peck at the eye socket of a human skull. Dekker tried to twist the doorknob, which wouldn’t budge, then hammered on the door with his fist.

  “Oy, such a racket! Keep it up if ya want the blood knights to hear,” said the door. Dekker stepped back. The raven on the coat of arms cocked its head. “But why listen to me? I’m just a bunch of bones.” Its voice was thin and reedy, like two sticks being rubbed together.

  Riley clapped her hands. “Look, a bird!” She reached out her hand to touch it. “What’s your name, little guy?”

  The raven pecked at her outstretched fingers, and she yanked them back quickly. “Watch it, girlie. Not for nothin’ but I’m meaner than I look.”

  Riley studied the assortment of bones that made up its body. “What kind of bird are you supposed to be?”

  The bird puffed out its chest. “I’m Herald with an e, the door raven of Charnel House.”

  “How cute—a talking birdie for a doorman,” said Riley.

  Herald raked his beak across the thin bones that lined the coat of arms, rattling them like bars. “Door raven, and I’m not cute,” he cawed.

  “We need to get out of here,” said Dekker. He showed Herald the half-skull burned onto his palm. “If you’re the doorkeeper, maybe you can help us.”

  The raven tapped at Dekker’s palm with his beak. “What is that schmutz, tar? I’d try soda water on that before it sets.”

  “But the skeleton guard said you bone people would help,” said Dekker.

  The bird shook his wings. “Excuse me—do I look like a bone man to you? Governess said not to open this door, and that’s what I’m doin’. Not doin’—you know what I mean. I am definitely not helping you. Now scram! Go read a book or somethin’.” Herald hid his head inside the mouth of the skull and pretended Dekker and Riley weren’t there.

  “Just leave it, Dekker—he probably doesn’t even know how to open the door,” said Riley. She moved out of the bird’s line of sight as she spoke and winked at her brother.

  Dekker nodded. “Oh yeah, he’s just a dumb bird. We can figure this out on our own.”

  The raven squawked and pulled his head out of the skull, rattling the coat of arms, but Dekker and Riley ignored him.

  Dekker pulled out The Book of Night and Day from the leather bag. “Actually, Herald had a good idea. Maybe there’s a clue in here. Help me look.”

  Dekker propped the book open in his arms while Riley flipped the pages. “Let’s see. Traveling, no… Borderland…Flora and Fauna…way past that, Nightside Trains and How to Get Off Where You Intended. Hmm, could be useful later.” Riley kept thumbing through the book, listing off chapter headings. There were only a few scant entries about Understory, and nothing about the governess’s mansion.

  As soon as they had opened the book, the raven had hopped to the top of the skull and was now craning his neck to try and get a better view. As they neared the blank pages at the end, he cawed. “Awk, you’re doing it wrong.”

  Dekker looked up. “What do you mean?”

  He gestured at the book with his beak. “You’re usin’ it like Daysiders
.”

  “We are Daysiders,” said Riley.

  “In case ya didn’t notice, you’re not in Dayside anymore. That kinda book works different here.”

  Dekker frowned. “It’s just a book. It’s not even finished.”

  The raven choked and scrabbled to regain his footing on the skull. “Just a book, he says. I never heard such dumb talk from a Daysider. Just a book. Did they teach ya anything useful at school?”

  “Well if you’re so smart, why don’t you show us?” said Riley.

  “Yeah,” said Dekker. “Show us how it works.”

  The raven peered down at them from his perch. “The book has two names, see? The Book of Night and Day. Works different dependin’ on where you are. Dayside’s all about workin’ for what you need. Someone works at writin’ it, then someone else works at readin’ it.”

  “So what? All books are like that,” said Dekker.

  The raven looked from side to side and lowered his voice. “Nightside don’t work like that, kid. Down here, it’s all about sacrifice. You gotta give if you wanna get. You got to pay the price for what you need.”

  Riley wrinkled her nose. “That doesn’t sound very nice.”

  The raven threw back his head and cawed again. “Nice, she says. Nightside, nice. How do you like them apples? You’re hilarious, kid.” Herald sighed loudly and cocked his head to look at Dekker. “Come closer. I’ll show ya—and this don’t count as helpin’!”

  Dekker held the book up to the raven. “That’s the wrong page—ya need a fresh one,” said Herald. Dekker balanced the book while Riley flipped to the blank pages near the end. As she did, the raven stabbed Riley’s hand with his beak.

  “Ow!” Riley yelled, and Dekker dropped the book on the floor. Blood ran down Riley’s fingers and dripped onto the empty page.

  “Ask it a question, quick,” said the bird.

  “How do we open the door to this room?” asked Dekker. He watched as the blood sank into the paper and disappeared. Nothing happened for a moment, and then a crimson drawing bloomed onto the page. Dekker and Riley watched in fascination as a perfectly detailed illustration of the door to their room began to appear, as if drawn by an invisible hand. After completing the door, the book sketched a finely dressed man holding something near the keyhole. Finally, the words Corvus reserat appeared in neat copperplate lettering beneath the drawing, and the ink began to fade from red to brown.