The Trilogy of Two

by Juman Malouf

  “That would make me a Pearl Catcher.” Sonja touched her hair. It had grown a whole inch since she had cut it, and that had been only a day ago.

  “It’s all dreams and make-believe, you know—nothing real,” said Charlotte. “The truth is, I just want to find Tatty and go back to how our lives used to be and forget everything that’s happened.”

  “Me, too,” agreed Sonja, although she knew it was impossible.

  Her sister was quiet now. Sonja looked at her. She was asleep. If Charlotte really turned out to be a Swifter, and Sonja really turned out to be a Pearl Catcher, then they were not identical. They were not twins. Charlotte had been fighting her whole life to be different from Sonja.

  They were not even the same species.

  Wolf Boy sat up and whispered in her ear, “You awake?”

  Sonja shrugged him away. “No.”

  “I wanted to say that I’d be happy if I had a mother. Any mother.”

  Sonja turned over and frowned. “You don’t understand.” She could feel Wolf Boy’s breath on her cheeks. He did smell like an animal, she thought, but in kind of a nice way.

  “I think I do. I’m a real orphan. I know what that feels like.” He cleared his throat. “I had an idea. When I was coming to my second life. You think a lot in limbo, you know.” He paused. “You like me.” Wolf Boy paused for another second and then wrinkled his forehead. “Am I right?”

  Sonja stared. She swallowed. She turned back over in one blunt flip and pretended to go to sleep, but her eyes were wide and her body was rigid. Was Wolf Boy right? Did she like him?

  “Good night, Sonja,” Wolf Boy said, lying down. “Try not to dream about me.”

  Hester steered the aircraft around Million-Mile-High buildings, past a speeding train, and through a cluster of smokestacks. Alexandria slouched down in her chair. Hester patted her hand. “Don’t worry, my child,” she said. “They just need a little time.”

  Sonja stared at Alexandria’s shaking back. She was crying. Sonja wanted to reach out to her. She wanted to take back the locket and all the things she had said. Something stopped her: an angry feeling inside. She pulled out the marionette and smoothed out her yarn hair. Maybe she did understand why Alexandria had given them up—but it still hurt her with a deep, sharp pain.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  The Dried-Up Sea

  THE RISING SUN CRAWLED OVER THE HORIZON. Alexandria had not slept a wink. The locket hung from her neck. Over and over again, in her head, she had gone through the events of the night Mr. Fortune Teller had come to take the twins.

  They were three months old. She had cut a piece of her hair and pressed it into a locket. She had wrapped them warmly in her woolen shawl. Her tears had wet their faces as she had kissed them each for the last time. Alexandria’s heart ached thinking about it. Every day of her life had been haunted by that night.

  Alexandria had always wanted children, not only to erase the scars her mother had left, but to help populate the world with strong and courageous souls. She had loved the twins when they were only a couple of cells forming embryos. She had loved them when they kicked four tiny feet against her belly. She had loved them when they were born, each a miniature replica of herself. She had loved them so deeply, she had never recovered from their departure.

  They were thought to be the identical sisters from the prophecy who would one day have the power against the living and defeat those who tried to conquer the Seven Edens. That was why the Protectors could not risk the Contessa finding them. At first, they wanted to keep them hidden within the Seven Edens, but then they decided it was essential for the girls to understand the outside world, the world their enemies would come from. The Protectors had chosen Tatty and Mr. Fortune Teller as their guardians and the circus as their home.

  Oh, Arthur, thought Alexandria. We shouldn’t have given them up! It killed you, too. Once the twins were taken away, Arthur hardly spoke. He lost himself in his work. Alexandria pressed her face against the window. Clouds zipped past. Didn’t they understand how much she had suffered? She had lived without her babies, her little girls, and now these two crucial young women.

  Charlotte and Sonja sat up and stared sleepily into the distance. Monkey was still snoring, eyes closed. Wisps of white brushed the pale, blue sky. A flat city sprawled below. Wolf Boy and Moritz squeezed beside them.

  “Ah, you children are awake,” said Hester. Alexandria did not turn around. She was too scared to face the twins. “We’re close,” continued the old woman. “Just passing over Sandy Shores.”

  The aircraft descended toward the abandoned beach town. Idle trams rusted on their rails. Ramshackle scaffolding stood around half-built buildings. Broken bicycles were strewn across the cracked asphalt roads. A swing dangled, swaying, in a desolate playground.

  Off the coast, beyond the city, there was—nothing.

  “The Dried-Up Sea,” explained Hester. “When the water disappeared, everyone picked up and left.”

  Alexandria remembered coming to Sandy Shores with her grandmother as a little girl, years before the water evaporated. She and Kats would play on the beach all day long. It was full of other children building sand castles, collecting shells, swimming, and playing. Now it was a rocky, craggy wasteland, littered with ruins of broken deck chairs, umbrellas, and acres of bone-dry garbage. A pier stretched out into the bleak horizon. At its end was a collapsed and deserted amusement park.

  Alexandria understood why Kats had come back. Their summer vacations were the happiest memories of their childhood. Most of their other memories were of being terrorized by their mother. Alexandria had always protected Kats. At school, he was despised by other children and teachers alike for being a timid, clumsy, untalented boy who spent most of his time in the laboratory with test tubes and chemicals. He had never forgiven Alexandria for abandoning him. It was like she had left a shell-less turtle on a shore of hungry seagulls.

  If I had taken him with me, she thought, none of this would have happened. She had gotten it wrong—just like everything else she did.

  The Flyer stalled. The motor coughed to a stop.

  “More coal, boys!” rasped Hester.

  Moritz shook his head. “There’s none left.”

  Hester blinked her one good eye. “I guess we’re going to have to land.” She yanked on a lever. The nose of the aircraft tilted down. They dropped into a rumbling dive.

  “This isn’t landing!” yelled Alexandria, gripping her seat. “This is crashing!”

  The aircraft smashed into the ground, whooshed across the sand, and collided with a massive whale skeleton baking in the sun.

  Dottie darted down after them. “Everyone all right?”

  “Of course we’re all right,” Hester grumbled. She slid her thin arm out from underneath Alexandria. Broken feathers from her cloak lay scattered over the children. Wolf Boy and Moritz jumped out and helped the others onto the ground.

  The air was dry and buzzing with gnats. Scorched coral and brittle fish bones mixed in the sand. The smells of the sea were putrid.

  Alexandria dusted off her coat. “We’ll walk from here.”

  The old woman cawed to the birds circling above them with frightened apes in their claws. One without a passenger swooped down and picked her up. Dottie flew after them, shouting, “I’ll lead the way!”

  The children followed close behind Alexandria. The sand was hot and scratchy under their feet. Crabs, cockroaches, and centipedes crawled among dried-up shrimp tails and powdery, broken shells. Hairless rats nibbled at empty turtle shells.

  The silhouettes of a fleet of beached ships shimmered in the distance. The masts and stacks looked like a city skyline.

  This is the place, thought Alexandria. She flicked her hood up over her head. “Be ready,” she cautioned. “We’re in dangerous territory now.”

  Hundreds of abandoned vessels dotted the lan
dscape. Paint flaked off their hulls, and rust spread over them like a disease. The wind blew through hatches and portholes, creaking and howling. Massive engines had been dragged out into the sand and disassembled by roving Scrummagers.

  The biggest of all the ships was jet-black and five hundred feet tall. The word Starling was printed on its hull in yellow paint.

  Alexandria froze. It was the name of a rowboat their grandmother had given them as children. Kats had always told her that one day he would take her away, anywhere she wanted in the world. “Oh, Kats,” she whispered, “how did we come to this?”

  “Looks like he wants to be found,” remarked Wolf Boy.

  Alexandria whistled up to Dottie and pointed to a smaller boat listing in the sand below. “We’ll take cover over there!”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  The Armies

  CHARLOTTE WATCHED AS A GOBO DELIVERED HESTER behind the boat. She tapped her cloak with her cane, and a swarm of gnats buzzed dizzily out of the feathers. The rest of the birds began to land around her, and the apes scrambled away into the shadows among the scrap.

  Charlotte turned to the looming black ship. She stood silent and frozen. Somewhere inside there was Tatty—and Kats von Stralen.

  Dottie swooped down and landed on Alexandria’s shoulder. “There’s a hole at the base of the prow,” reported Dottie. “Might be big enough for the children to fit through.”

  What did she mean by the children? Charlotte did not want to go anywhere near that boat.

  A heavy shadow blanketed over them. She looked up. Charlotte stared in shock as a thousand swans converged in wide rows across the sun toward them from the vanished ocean. The hooded swans flapped grimly at the head of the battalion. They led the rest of the swans down onto the decks of the Starling. As they landed, they untwisted their wiry necks and screeched furiously into the sky. Flyers whizzed down behind them, propellers churning. Below, a cloud of dust approached like a storm. It was a fleet of armored vans roaring in formation. They squealed around the black hull and skidded to a stop.

  Charlotte was terrified. She shuddered at the thought of being pecked to death by a flock of swans or shot in the heart by an Enforcer.

  A solitary rider thundered down from the abandoned beach and raced toward them. His frizzy salt-and-pepper hair danced crazily. A cane was slung across his back with a bayonet at its end.

  “Uncle Tell!” Sonja called out. “Over here!”

  Charlotte panicked. Why was he alone? Where were the others?

  The old man reached them, out of breath. His face was red and sunburned, and he was drenched in sweat. “I couldn’t get the Gillypurs to fight!” he sputtered, sliding off the animal’s back. “They just wouldn’t come! Only Rhubarb here!”

  A barking voice threatened over a loudspeaker, “Weapons to the ready!”

  Enforcers strapped to the wings of the Flyers wound the keys of the first round of missiles. Bullets loaded and clicked into Gatsploders. The van doors slid open, and growling hyenas scampered out, pulling Enforcers after them by their straining leashes.

  Charlotte clung to Mr. Fortune Teller. “There are too many of them!” she moaned. “We don’t stand a chance!” Something flashed in her mind—something that might help. “Edgar hid the Albans’ armor,” she suddenly blurted. “It’s in a secret chamber inside Jagged Rock.”

  A trumpet sounded in the distance. They looked to the horizon. A hundred winged men came whooshing down from the clouds with slingshots in their hands.

  “The Tiffins,” Alexandria breathed, relieved. “Finally, they’ve arrived.”

  “There’s more!” shouted Wolf Boy, pointing.

  A hundred women with long flowing hair came charging up behind them on horseback along with a herd of galloping animals led by Staghart. The Pearl Catchers and the Changelings had arrived.

  “Your tribes are here,” chuckled Hester. “Right on time.”

  Alexandria turned to Dottie. “Show the children how to get into the ship, and then go straight to the Golden Underground. Tell Ansel about the armor. There might still be time for the Albans to help us!”

  Charlotte looked back and forth between Alexandria and Mr. Fortune Teller, her eyes darting anxiously. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Hieronymus and I have to fight with the others,” explained Alexandria.

  “It’s just like you!” Charlotte burst out. “First you abandon us! Now you send us to be killed! You’re a great mother.”

  Sonja stared at the ground, silent. Her lips trembled.

  Mr. Fortune Teller squinted, confused.

  “They know,” Alexandria said in a voice barely audible. “I told them.”

  The old man swallowed. “I see they’re taking it well.”

  He put his hands on the twins’ shoulders. “You see our numbers out here. If Alexandria and I don’t stay and fight, the Contessa will win. We wouldn’t send you children alone if we didn’t believe you had the strength to find Tatty and the Golden Knot and return them to safety.”

  “What if we can’t do it?” cried Sonja. “What if we get killed?”

  “You’re going to have to take that chance for love.” Alexandria’s voice broke. “It’s what I should’ve done for the two of you. It’s what I should’ve done for Kats. I should’ve risked everything so we could be together. I didn’t know it then, but I know it now.” She put a lightning bug cocoon into Sonja’s pocket and fastened the locket around Charlotte’s neck. “Remember: my brother hates to be wrong. He’d rather be dead than wrong. Use it against him.” She took one last look at each girl and turned away. Her face was streaked with tears. “Now get going before it’s too late.”

  “Uncle Tell!” sobbed Charlotte. She felt like she was being thrown to the lions. Without her Talent, she was helpless.

  “Go on,” the old man ordered sternly. “No time to waste.”

  Wolf Boy and Moritz crooked out their elbows and offered them to the twins. “Let’s go find Tatty,” Wolf Boy said gently. Sonja took his arm, determined. Charlotte watched her helplessly. Somehow, they had changed places: now Sonja was courageous, and Charlotte was scared. Charlotte clung to Moritz, trembling.

  “Don’t worry, Charlotte,” he whispered, patting her hand. “We’ll make it. Somehow.”

  “Let’s go!” Dottie squawked, flying off.

  The children ran after her, slipping behind a row of small wooden boats. The Starling loomed, massive, growing above them as they approached it. Tall masts reached up from the deck and stabbed the sky. Charlotte wondered if they would ever get out of there alive. Dottie hovered over a rusty, jagged hole punched through the black hull near the ground. It was the size of a cast-iron skillet. “Here!”

  Wolf Boy and Moritz kicked at the edges of the puncture, widening it a few inches. Moritz tried to squeeze inside headfirst, cramming his shoulders—but he was stuck.

  “You’re too big, old horse,” said Wolf Boy.

  Moritz wiggled and squirmed and groaned.

  A bright flash burst in the sky, and the land shook with a powerful boom. Dirt and dust were showered everywhere.

  Charlotte grabbed on to Sonja. This was what war was like. It shook her to the depths of her bones.

  “Hurry, Moritz!” Dottie shrieked. “It’s started! You have to go back!”

  Bullets whizzed and zipped. Voices screamed. Animals howled.

  Wolf Boy put his hand on Moritz’s shoulder. “The others need you.”

  Moritz yanked himself out of the hole and stared at Wolf Boy, helpless.

  Monkey peered out of Charlotte’s jacket. “Oh, no,” she cried. “I forgot Monkey!”

  “I’ll hide him somewhere safe,” promised Moritz. He pulled out the trembling animal and placed him on his shoulder. He bit his lip. “I’m sorry I’m not littler.” He turned and dashed off, retracing their steps. Dottie flew in t
he opposite direction on her way to the Golden Underground, dodging bullets and swerving explosions.

  “Are the others going to be okay?” Sonja said anxiously.

  “That depends on us.” Wolf Boy turned into a wolf and slipped nimbly through the hole. Sonja followed. Charlotte took a deep breath and crawled in after her.

  Dear Jack Cross,

  I lost my head for a while. I might not make it out of this ship alive. (It’s a long story.) Either way, I hope you’ll remember me.

  Love, Charlotte

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  The Starling

  IT WAS PITCH-BLACK INSIDE THE SHIP’S HOLD. THICK droplets tapped on the tops of their heads in the dark. Sonja felt in her pocket for the lightning bug. She pulled it out and peeled off its cocoon. It shimmied loose and whizzed around them. It made her think of Alexandria. It reminded her: be brave.

  “No!” gasped Wolf Boy. He flicked his tail. “We’ll be seen!”

  Sonja caught the insect and closed it in her hands. She opened her fingers a little to make a dim lantern.

  In the half-light, the room was deep and wide, crammed with rusty pipes, pumps, and furnaces. The children ducked under a jumble of wires and filed along a wall of levers and gauges. They climbed a steel staircase to a balcony. A ladder at the far end stretched up to a hatch in the ceiling.

  Sonja handed Charlotte the lightning bug and blew into her pennywhistle softly, playing a very quiet tune. The hatch’s lock wheel began to slowly creak, twisting clockwise as they watched. It sprang open. Wolf Boy poked his snout up into the next floor.

  A long-toothed rat stared at him with its mouth open, briefly stunned, then dashed away. Brittle feet scurried all around him in the blackness, then fell quiet.

  “All clear,” said Wolf Boy, and hopped up onto the floor. The twins followed.

  The lightning bug flew out of Charlotte’s hands. It lit up stacks of canned meat, peas, and sardines. Sonja picked up a can and shuddered. There was a cartoon on the label of a white Persian cat holding a fish skeleton in its mouth: Chestnut Sabine.