Secrets in the Mist

by Morgan L. Busse

  Cass stowed the pouch and straw away as Theo drank his own supply of water. Then she went back to the bed, exhausted.

  The rain turned to a gentle drizzle, like a lullaby. Theo moved to the side of the window with the small wooden box in hand, carefully turning and studying it with a focused intensity.

  She frowned as she watched him. That box looked familiar. She had seen something like it before. A small dark wooden box with different gears and keyholes.

  She sat up straight on the bed. “Theo, I’ve seen a box like that.” She found it hard to keep her voice down in her excitement.

  His head jerked up. “You have?”

  “Yes, it was during—” She choked as a wave of grief washed over her. Her emotions were on edge. “It was during the dive when we lost Oliver and Captain Gresley.” She vividly remembered hugging the box to her body, running through the trees as the Turned pursued her.

  “What?” he exclaimed, coming over to her quickly. His voice low but intense. “Do you remember anything about it?”

  She shook her head. “Not really. Only that it was a puzzle box like this one, with gears and keyholes.”

  “Cass,” Theo pressed. “Who was the job for?”

  “One of the Five Families. The Staggs family.”

  “The Staggses?” His tone was incredulous.

  She was a little shaken by at the look of contempt on his face. “Yes, do you know them?”

  “Yes.” The word was short and terse.

  Cass blinked. “You know another one of the ruling Families?”

  He looked away, the box stilled in his hands. “Yes.”

  Cass didn’t know much about the elites of the skyworld, but she’d overheard enough people talking about the House of Lords to know the names of the Families. Staggses. Atwoods. Kingsfords. Etheringtons. And Winchesters.

  Winchesters . . .

  She glanced at Theo. “That house we were just in, with the underground room. That was the Winchester house. Are you doing this job for them?”

  There was a pause. “Yes.”

  “Do you know the Winchesters?”

  Another pause. “Yes.”

  “How?”

  Theo rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll tell you later.”

  Theo wasn’t a Winchester, was he? He said his name was Byron. But the portrait in the house was of Byron Winchester.

  She took in a quick breath. Was Theo part of the Win-chester family?

  “When do you think we can leave?” Theo asked abruptly.

  Cass looked at the window. Rain continued to patter against the glass. “I’m not sure,” she said slowly. What time was it? They started the dive near noon when the Mist was the least dense. Given how much time was spent going through the village, hiding from the Turned, and looking over the Winchester house, they had been on the ground at least three hours, maybe more.

  What if the rain didn’t stop, or at least stop before night fell? She’d never spent a night in the Mist before. It was done. Bert had told her about a dive where he and Captain Gresley spent the night in an old merchant shop and how hungry he was when they finally ascended back to the Daedalus.

  She stared down at her fingers, ticking off each thing she could think of about staying the night down in the Mist. One, their masks would work for three days thanks to the filters Theo had acquired for them in Decadenn. Two, they couldn’t eat due to the masks, but they could still sleep and use the privy, as long as they were careful. And they’d had a pouch of water each, which would help stave off thirst. Three, there would be no need to dive back down. Theo had found what he had been looking for.

  It was risky, especially with the strange Turned here. Who knew what they were capable of? And she was still worried about Bert. He wouldn’t try to come back in the rain, but would he risk a dive at night?

  No. He was too smart for that. He would most likely try in the morning.

  “I think we’re stuck here for the night,” she finally said.

  Theo looked up from fiddling with the box in his hands, a small wooden slate now sticking out from one of the sides. Was he managing to open it? “I thought we might be,” he said. “Is there anything I should know?”

  “Obviously we can’t eat. We might want to take shifts sleeping, and we need to be extremely careful with our masks. And it will probably get really dark.”

  “Sounds reasonable,” Theo said and went back to examining the box.

  Cass watched him for a couple minutes, a storm beginning to brew inside her. “Aren’t you afraid?”

  Theo looked up again. He studied her for a moment, and she lowered her head. It felt as if he could read all the worry and fear on her face.

  “Yes,” he admitted. “But there’s not much I can do about it. Instead, I’m going to use this time to try to get this open. When it gets too dark to see, I’ll take the first watch and let you sleep. Focusing on what I can do, instead of what I can’t, helps me not succumb to fear. That, and I pray.”

  “To Elaeros?”

  “Yes.”

  The storm inside her came rushing to the surface. “Why? I don’t see Him here. I don’t see Him driving away the Mist, or helping those who Turn, or fixing everything that’s broken in this world. I don’t think I’ve seen Him at all!”

  Theo didn’t answer. After a few seconds, Cass slumped back against the headboard and crossed her arms. No one had an answer for her. Captain Gresley once said something about healing the brokenness in the world, but from what she could see, there was no fixing this world. The Mist would continue to rise and consume, the Turned would rove the surface, and she would always be alone.

  She drew her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees. The storm inside her dissipated, leaving a gaping hole in her middle.

  “You’re right,” Theo said a moment later. “And I’d believe that as well, except every time I despair, I catch glimpses of Him. Just tiny ones, circumstances too perfectly aligned to be simply luck. These are the threads I hold onto. For example, the fact that we found this.” He held up the box. “Or that I even knew about it.”

  Cass scowled. “If the cure for the Mist was always around, why wasn’t it used years ago?”

  Theo laughed sadly and shook his head. “Because humans were involved. Humans who didn’t want the cure to be found.”

  She lifted her head. “Humans who don’t want the cure to be found? Who in this world would want that?”

  “You’d be surprised,” he said darkly.

  She shook her head and laid her cheek down on her knee and watched the rivulets of water run down the window left by the rain. It didn’t make sense. And she still wasn’t convinced about Elaeros. Maybe it was because if she were that powerful, she would have never let the Mist exist in the first place. Or wars. Or pain.

  But then where would that leave humans? Many of those things existed because of the human race. Should they not exist either?

  Ugh, I’m getting a headache. Maybe Theo’s right. Maybe I’m just not seeing what he sees. That made sense. Right now, her body ached. And her face felt hot. Cass pressed her cold fingers along her forehead. Must be from exhaustion. She closed her heated eyes “Thanks for taking the first watch, Theo,” she said.

  She barely heard his reply before being swept into the warm darkness of sleep.

  Theo continued to explore the box as Cass slept. No doubt she was utterly drained. And from what he could tell of the Turned outside, they had not detected any sound or movement so far, given how they were slowly shambling up and down the street. The rain had been a hidden blessing in helping them escape.

  Every few minutes, he worked out another piece of the puzzle. A gear, or a hidden wooden slate. He loved doing puzzle boxes ever since he was very young and had solved a couple of his grandfather’s more difficult contraptions before he was twelve, which had impressed their inventor. I wonder what you’d think of this one, Theo thought as he turned the box again, looking for the next clue.

 
; The rain started to let up as the sky darkened. Theo paused for a moment and looked carefully out the window. The Turned had disappeared for the night. But they would be back in the morning. He had spoken confidently to Cass, but now, in the twilight of evening, his own fears began to rise to the surface. It was natural to be afraid of that which could hunt and kill you.

  He looked over at Cass sleeping soundly. A desire to protect her overwhelmed him. An image of her peering through the church windows sprang to mind. A hymn from that day flooded his thoughts and took the form of a prayer as his fingers began to work the box again. The hymn began to open up the words sealed inside his heart: his fears, his worries, his concern, allowing him to be honest with himself and with his creator.

  Seconds later, he turned the last gear, and a compartment on the side of the box flew open. Inside was a thin roll of papers and a glass vial filled with some kind of dark liquid, corked and sealed with wax.

  Suppressing his elation, Theo held up the vial. There were no labels or anything to indicate what was inside. He replaced the vial and took out the papers. He put the wooden container down and unrolled the documents. He held them at an angle toward the window to catch the small trickle of light that remained.

  The handwriting was thin and spindly. The first few pages were detailed notes on the Bioformin, the weapon used during the Plague Wars. So it was true. The Bioformin was never meant to harm anyone. It was supposed to be a peaceful way to end the war.

  Theo skimmed over the notes. So much information. More than he would have ever found in a lifetime of research. The author was very intelligent. But where was the mention of groundwork for a cure? He quickly scanned the pages until he reached the last few.

  We discovered during the trials that there is a tiny percentage of the population who are immune to the Bioformin. Victor Staggs insisted on finding a way around this immunity, but I pointed out that such an immunity could be used as a safeguard should something unforeseen happen. I have enclosed a vial of blood from one such person. Victor has the other two. I will begin testing with the extra vials to see if there is a way to replicate this immunity after the war, so the Bioformin can never be used again.

  Theo kept reading, but there was nothing more about the blood vials or any testing. Was there more information still in the Winchester house? He went through the papers again, held up the vial and looked it over, then stared at the puzzle box. Why was all of this in such a complicated box instead of in the desk? And why had it been hidden beneath the desk? Did Byron fear something?

  Theo tucked the vial and papers back into the box, then shut the compartment. Without any light, and with the rain having dampened their smell, they should be safe for the night. That was a comforting thought.

  He placed the box next to the gliders, then crawled over to the corner and propped himself against the wall. It was totally dark now. He’d never realized how much the Mist would dissipate the night’s light. He could see nothing.

  A heavy need for sleep came crashing down on him. He crossed his arms and closed his eyes. Best rest while he still could. He would need all his energy tomorrow.

  Something pushed against his shoulder. “Theo,” a voice whispered.

  “Huh?” he said groggily, his mind still lingering in the dreamworld where he was trying to find a light for the dark closet he was in.

  “Theo!” the voice said more urgently. A female voice. And not Adora’s or Aunt Maude’s.

  His eyes flew open, and he sat up away from the wall. His back and shoulders ached from the odd position he’d slept in all night, causing a groan to escape his lips. “Cass?” he whispered hoarsely as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. His throat and mouth were like sandpaper.

  “It’s time to go.”

  All at once, the events from yesterday came rushing back. He shook off the last dregs of sleep as Cass crawled away from him and stood. Her hair was a mess of golden-red curls, held back by her goggles, and her cheeks were flushed.

  She moved toward the gliders and began to strap on the pack. Theo stood and winced at the tightness along his back. What he wouldn’t give for a long soak in a tub. Then again—he glanced at Cass—that was a luxury his family could always afford, and the rest of humankind couldn’t. The last few weeks had shown him just how much his way of life was different than those on the Daedalus. And Cass.

  “Do you need some help?” Cass asked, looking up.

  “No, I can do it. But thanks.” He reached down and grabbed his own pack and heard a click. As he shrugged the pack on, Cass checked the chamber of her revolver. So far, they hadn’t had to use any of the incendiary bullets. Hopefully that statistic would hold. Outside, the Mist rolled across the window in thick greenish-grey billows.

  After a few minutes, with the puzzle box under one arm, Theo was ready to go. They quietly made their way through the house and to the back door they had entered the day before.

  “We’ll head west toward the foothills,” Cass whispered. “That way we can be sure there is a place to take off.”

  Theo gave a quick nod.

  The Mist was so thick it was hard to see past the low-lying stone wall that surrounded the garden. Beyond, like bony fingers, stood the edge of the woods with the towering silhouette of Voxhollow on the left.

  Cass surveyed the area one more time, then started for the wall. Theo looked around as well. The silence felt as stifling as the Mist around them. And he couldn’t shake the prickling along the back of his neck. But he trusted Cass. She’d spent more time in the Mist than he had. She didn’t seem to sense any danger. If she did, she wasn’t letting on.

  They crossed the patch of weeds and overgrown gravel pathways to the wall, then carefully made their way over it. The Mist had cleared somewhat, and now a ball of murky light grew between the trees as the sun continued to climb into the sky. The ground was covered in dead leaves, and the trees were still bare from winter, even thought it was late spring. Moss-covered stones and dead stumps littered the rest of the ground. The Mist filled the area like a dense fog, slowly lifting from the soil.

  The ground was moist, and the leaves cushioned the sound of their footfalls as they entered the woods. Cass continued to move cautiously, always checking around her, listening. He did as well, the feeling that they were being watched growing stronger and stronger. After a couple minutes, he swung his head around, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever might be causing this sensation.

  Nothing.

  “You feel it, too?” Cass’s whisper came to him.

  “That we’re being watched? Yes.”

  “I haven’t seen any sign of the Turned, so I’m not sure what it could be. There don’t seem to be any animals around here, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t.”

  “It doesn’t feel like an animal,” Theo said as they continued carefully along.

  “No, it doesn’t. It feels . . . intelligent.”

  “Exactly.” And he found that disquieting.

  They continued on through the trees. By now, there was no sign of Voxhollow. The city had been swallowed up in the Mist behind them. Ahead were only more trees with hazy Mist swirling through the branches.

  Then he heard it. Footsteps. Soft, quiet, but there.

  “Cass!” he whispered loudly as a figure stepped out from between two trees on their left. He drew a sharp intake of breath. There, his golden, metal-covered face unmistakable in the pale sunlight, stood the half-metal, half-human Luron, presented by the Staggs family over a year ago as a supposed answer to the Mist.

  “You!” Cass spluttered.

  What? Theo quickly glanced at Cass. How in the gales did she know Luron?

  Luron was again dressed as a gentleman with his top hat perched above his metal mask, an overcoat edged in gold, a black ascot around his neck, and fine leather boots.

  “Why are you here?” Theo asked, coming between the two.

  Luron twisted his head toward Theo, then toward Cass. His movements were more automaton than human, causing
a shudder to ripple down Theo’s back. He still wasn’t convinced that Luron was all human, in spite of the story the Staggs family had told. He wondered if the man could even talk, despite those two holes for a mouth.

  His doubts were erased when a moment later, a tenor voice spoke, hoarse and raspy. “I was instructed to follow you, Theodore Winchester.”

  Theo looked at Cass from the corner of his eye. Did she hear the name? She remained frozen a few feet away with no response. He wasn’t sure what to think.

  He stepped closer to Luron. “Why?”

  “Because you pose a threat to the House of Lords.” Theo could barely make out the words. Had the vocal chords been damaged in the fire during the Purge?

  “And what makes the House of Lords think that?” Theo clenched the puzzle box in his hand. They didn’t have time for this. The Turned would hear them at any moment and start coming.

  “Because of House Winchester’s secret. You wish to change the world. But the world has no need of changing.”

  “What kind of shoddy answer is that?” Cass retorted. “The House of Lords thinks the world is fine the way it is? Those echelons need to come off their sky islands and see what is happening to the rest of the population. Or maybe they’re content to watch everyone swallowed up by the Mist so they can have the world to themselves.”

  Theo found her outburst astounding as well as a little amusing in its boldness.

  “Theo, come on.” Cass strode forward. “We have no time for this.” She grabbed his free hand and began to pull him along the trees. He was surprised at the heat of her touch. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re not going to stop us.” She tossed the words over her shoulder at Luron and continued along the forest.

  Theo, his mouth clamped shut, kept pace beside her.