The Missing

by Garth Nix

  “I’ve done mine,” said Jaide smugly.

  “I’ll check on Cornelia now,” said Jack. It was his job to make sure she had enough seed and water, and to clean her cage once a week. “I’ll get the Compendium while I’m there.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” said Kleo. “The Wardens wouldn’t leave any clues right out where you could find them.”

  “Maybe this is part of the Examination.” Jack didn’t really think that, but he had other leads to follow, anyway. There was the Catastrophe from forty-five years ago, for starters, and the Warden of Last Resort. Grandma X might not be actively keeping secrets from them anymore, but there was still an awful lot left to find out.

  He was shocked to reach the door to the blue room and find it locked. The secret panel clicked but wouldn’t open. He pushed it a couple of times, then knocked.

  “Hello?”

  The panel clunked and slid open to reveal Grandma X. She looked flustered and bedraggled.

  “Jack, of course. You want to say good night to Cornelia. Come on in. But don’t linger. Stefano and I are hard at work.”

  Jack hadn’t even known they were working. He passed through the tapestry, keen to see what they were up to, but nothing looked out of order. The big mirror was back where it belonged, and there was no sign of the cross-continuum conduit constructor. It had been taken somewhere safe, he presumed. Stefano glowered at him from one corner of the room, angry at the interruption. He didn’t say anything, and Jack didn’t say anything back.

  Cornelia was asleep already, clicking her beak and muttering softly to herself. Jack distinctly heard her say “Charlie? Your porridge is getting cold!” but figured he would never understand the dreams of birds. Her water and seed tray were fine.

  “All done?” asked Grandma X.

  He felt as though she was trying to get rid of him.

  “Can I borrow the Compendium?”

  “Of course.” She got it for him, a fat binder full of loose pages she kept on a mahogany desk on the landing, and put it safely into his hands. “Don’t stay up too late. You’ll need to be alert for tomorrow.”

  “Okay. Good night, Grandma. Good night, Stefano.”

  Stefano just grunted. He seemed to be sweating and his eyes looked slightly crossed. Jack hadn’t noticed it before, but Stefano was holding a short iron rod that was the spitting image of one Hector Shield carried. This one was shiny and new, however. As Jack stared at it, a faint spark shot out and ground into an old ashtray, which let out a puff of smoke.

  “Off you go, Jack,” said Grandma X, practically pushing him up the stairs. “Good night.”

  Once he’d gotten to their room, Jaide listened with interest to her brother’s account of Stefano’s odd behavior, but had no explanation for it.

  “Maybe she’s teaching him how to use his lightning Gift, as she taught Dad,” she suggested.

  “But she wouldn’t have taught Dad, would she?” Jack said. “Troubletwisters are taught by other Wardens because parents make their kids’ Gifts go crazy.”

  The cats professed not to have any idea, but Jaide caught a knowing look in Kleo’s cool gaze, suggesting that she did know but just wasn’t telling. Later, Jaide promised herself. They had other things to search for now.

  As Ari had suggested, there was nothing in the Compendium to even hint at the process of Examination. No matter how fixedly the twins concentrated on the concept, holding the Compendium in both hands and closing their eyes, when they opened the folder it always landed on the same notice.

  Examination will be conducted at regular intervals to ensure the safety of troubletwisters and to maximize the likelihood of their survival.

  “That’s worrying,” said Jack.

  “But it’s not telling us that the Examination itself is dangerous,” said Jaide, hoping that was true. “Let’s move on. I want to know about the Catastrophe.”

  Asking the Compendium that question produced a wealth of information — too much, in fact, to take in all at once. Dozens of Wardens had written reports on the subject, but not many of them actually talked about what had happened. The reports seemed to be part of a larger argument that had raged for many years between the two factions that Custer had mentioned that day: the Hawks, who wanted to take the fight to The Evil, and the Doves, who wanted to declare peace, or a truce, or something like that. What they actually wanted wasn’t very clear, except that they wanted the fighting to end. When the two sides weren’t shouting at each other, they spent very little time actually talking about what had happened forty-five years earlier.

  There was one page that looked like a newspaper article, which was weird because something like this would never have been reported in a real newspaper, and neither twin was aware that the Wardens had a paper of their own. It was dated from January the same year as the Catastrophe, and said:

  Bifrost Bridge: A Device to Cross Dimensions and Bring Peace?

  In a new development, representatives of the Harmony Party approached the High Warden Council with a plan to open diplomatic relations with The Evil. Spokeswoman Lottie Henschke testified that the state of unceasing war between Wardens and our ancient enemy is unsustainable. “An alternative must be found,” she said. “Opening a Bridge to its realm is the first step in achieving that goal.”

  Chief Speaker of the Progress Party, Aleksandr Furmanek, replied that such a Bridge was indeed in development but would not be used to “appease the monster that has terrorized humanity for so long.”

  “Do you think that Bridge was the one we found?” asked Jaide.

  “I don’t know,” said Jack. “If it was, what was it doing right next door?”

  Before the twins could find any hard facts, Susan returned to turn the lights out. No matter how much they pleaded, she wouldn’t give them even an extra five minutes. They hadn’t even asked about the Warden of Last Resort. She took the Compendium away from them, shooed the cats outside, and tucked them in.

  “Mom, do you know what happened to the house next door?” asked Jack.

  “It’s always been like that,” she said. “The one time I visited while I was dating your father, there was some talk of renovating it. Apparently, your grandfather had always meant to do it before he died, but never got around to it.”

  “You mean Grandma and Grandpa used to own it?” asked Jaide.

  “I think so. It was a long time ago. I could be remembering it wrong.”

  “What was Grandpa like?” Jack knew very little about his father’s father. Every time they brought him up, Grandma X changed the subject.

  Susan smiled fondly, even though she was sure the twins were just stalling now.

  “I never met him. He died long before I was on the scene.”

  “Would we have called him ‘Grandpa X’?”

  “I don’t think so. His name was Giles or James or something like that. Now,” she said firmly, “enough questions. You’ll need your sleep if you don’t want to make any mistakes tomorrow.”

  They couldn’t argue with that. But when the lights were out and the door almost closed, Jaide whispered, “Lottie Henschke.”

  “What?”

  “In that article about the Bifrost Bridge. It said Lottie Henschke. We have her last name now.”

  “And Grandma X’s, too.” Jack was astonished. He’d been concentrating so hard on the Catastrophe that he had missed that important tidbit.

  “She might have changed it when she got married,” said Jaide. “But, yeah. That’s going to make them much easier to find.”

  “Are we still going to look? Even though we know Lottie is stuck in the Evil Dimension?”

  “The Compendium is being difficult about how she got there, so I think we should. And we still don’t really know much about Grandma. We don’t even know her birthday!”

  That was true. Susan had bought her a cake one day in March, but Grandma X had been quick to inform them that, while she was touched by the gesture, her actual birthday was something she kept to he
rself, along with her age. Jaide found that both weird and old-fashioned, which summed up her grandmother pretty well.

  “All right,” said Jack, reminding himself to be glad they were missing school the next morning. Mondays were the worst. Mr. Carver always made them describe any dreams they’d had over the weekend, and insisted on trying to interpret them. Once, he’d gone on for half an hour about how something Miralda King had dreamt meant that Portland’s mayor, her father, should grant planning approval for a school obelisk on the grounds that it would align his students’ chakras.

  Jack closed his eyes, and within moments his breathing became regular and slow. However hard Jaide tried, though, she couldn’t get to sleep. It had been a long and eventful day. She kept thinking about Professor Olafsson and Lottie and everything else that was going on that she could do nothing about. It was only by concentrating on what Stefano had suggested earlier that finally settled her mind. What if she did have the same lightning Gift as her father? That would be wonderful beyond belief. And if Jack had it too, they could duel each other with lightning bolts … something she was sure neither their grandmother nor mother would ever allow….

  * * *

  The Examiner was a fussy, sixtyish man with very short silver hair who walked into the kitchen unannounced while they were eating breakfast. He was wearing a light overcoat and a shirt with no collar or tie, done right up to the neck.

  “Ah, Alfred!” Grandma X declared, making a space for him at the table and offering him a cup of coffee.

  “No need, no need,” he said with a slightly odd accent, which the twins couldn’t place, particularly as it seemed to shift around a bit. “Good morning to you all. I’m not too early, am I? The beams are recalcitrant this morning.”

  The twins wanted to say, Yes, give us another week — and also, What beams and what do they have to do with anything? But instead they said hello and introduced themselves. Stefano just nodded and fiddled with the sleeve of his shirt, looking nervous. Clearly, he and Alfred the Examiner were already acquainted.

  “Very good,” he said. “I’m pleased to be here, Jack and Jaide, to test your fitness to advance to senior troubletwister status. Your grandmother assures me that you have been ready for some time. We will find out shortly if she is correct.”

  “Am I ever wrong, Alfred?” Grandma X asked.

  “We are all wrong sometimes,” he said with one eyebrow upraised.

  “Yes, sir,” said Stefano, unexpectedly. “Is it time for school yet?”

  “I suppose so,” said Susan. “If you’re that keen I can drop you off early. Kids, your grandmother is coming with me. We’re going to have morning tea at the fancy new place by the marina. There are sandwiches by the stove for lunch if you’re done by lunchtime.”

  “They will, as you put it, be very much done by lunchtime,” the Examiner said.

  The twins were afraid to ask what that meant, and anyway, the kitchen had dissolved into chaos. Dishes were collected, washed, and put away. Grandma X went upstairs to change her around-the-house cowboy boots for her going-out cowboy boots. She had many pairs of cowboy boots, and some system that decided which ones were to be worn for different occasions. The ones she wore when she came back down were crocodile or alligator skin, and had very sharp points.

  “Are we ready? Good.” She kissed the twins on the cheeks, something Jaide let her do in front of Stefano only because she was feeling so nervous suddenly. She wished Grandma X and Susan weren’t leaving. “Don’t let Ari have any of your lunch: He’s getting fat.”

  “I am not!” protested Ari, emerging from behind the door. His ears flicked as Grandma X and the twins looked at him with disbelieving expressions. “Or not that much. Besides, it is a mark of distinction among cats to be a little heavy….”

  “No human food,” insisted Grandma X. “We’ll return when Alfred calls us.”

  Susan looked just as unhappy as the twins felt as Grandma X bustled her out the door. Stefano was already out by the car, a 1955 Austin 1600 with bright red-and-yellow flames painted down the hood. This car had replaced the yellow Hillman Minx that had met its end at the bottom of the river. Jack and Jaide stood on the veranda and waved them off, feeling absurdly — they hoped — as though they might never see them again.

  When the car had vanished up the lane, they turned to go inside.

  “Where did he go?” asked Jaide. “I thought he was right behind us.”

  Jack blinked rapidly as a sudden gust of wind threw dust into his eyes.

  “I don’t know,” he said, stepping into the hallway. It was empty. “Hello? Did you see where he went, Jaide? Jaide?”

  He spun around on the spot and was shocked to discover that he was alone. Not only was Alfred the Examiner missing, but so, too, was Jaide. It was as though she had vanished into thin air.

  “Come on, this isn’t funny.”

  He spun around one more time, in case he had missed something completely obvious, and in doing so he brushed against the long shadow cast by the open doorway across the entry hall rug. Suddenly, darkness consumed his vision. The house vanished. The world vanished. And he was gone, too.

  * * *

  Inside the kitchen, Ari felt the hand holding him by the scruff of his neck relax. He immediately leaped from Alfred’s lap, where he’d been held prisoner, and ran to the front door. Looking around, he saw no one except Kleo, padding regally around the corner, shaking her head.

  “You were told to stay away,” she scolded him.

  “Not told as such,” he said. “It was more a suggestion. Anyway, I just wanted to see —”

  “Curiosity is not a survival trait,” said the Examiner from the kitchen. Ari shook his head. The man had the hearing of a cat!

  Faintly, as though from an exceedingly distant place, Kleo thought she heard someone calling for help. She cocked her head, but the cry was gone as quickly as it had come. She hadn’t even been able to tell which troubletwister it was.

  “Stay right here,” she told Ari. “They’ll need us when they come back.”

  “If —”

  Ari’s mouth clapped shut at a look from Kleo that said as clearly as words: Don’t say it.

  Jaide was utterly lost. She didn’t know where she was or even what she was. Everything around her was confusing and strange, a blur of movement and light that never ceased changing. But what was most disorienting was not knowing how she was experiencing it. She couldn’t feel her arms and legs. She couldn’t blink her eyes. She didn’t seem to have eyes. She felt as if she was tumbling and flailing and screaming, but there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  Is it The Evil? she wondered. Have I been attacked?

  That was nonsense, she told herself. Alfred the Examiner had been there. The Evil would never have gotten past him.

  But what if he’s one of them? What if he’s an Evil minion and Grandma never suspected?

  She reminded herself of all the times she had doubted Wardens before. First her grandmother, who she had thought was a witch. Then Custer. Then Rodeo Dave. They had all turned out to be good, trustworthy people, firmly on her side.

  Don’t forget Uncle Harold. We trusted him, and look what happened!

  Jaide told herself to ignore that panicky internal voice. It wasn’t helping. Evil attack or not, she needed to find out what was going on and get herself out of it, somehow. She needed to breathe slowly, even if she didn’t appear to have any lungs, and calm the frantic beating of the heart she no longer had. Whatever was happening to her, she wasn’t dead yet.

  “While there’s life,” her father always said, “there’s hope. And Brussels sprouts.” Unlike most sensible people, Hector Shield loved Brussels sprouts.

  His optimistic mantra didn’t help Jaide at all when she was sucked into an engine and torn violently to pieces.

  * * *

  Jack willed his eyes to open, but they wouldn’t. He could tell that there was light out there, but he couldn’t see it. He couldn’t feel anything either
. For all his groping and fumbling, he might as well have been in deep space. He couldn’t even feel his hands. Soon he began to doubt they even existed.

  If he didn’t have hands, what about the rest of him? He couldn’t feel his feet, either, or his head, or his heart….

  Stay calm. There has to be an explanation.

  Jack did his best to forget an old book he’d read about people who had been buried alive. Being trapped underground had always been something that frightened him, and his experiences in the sewers under Portland hadn’t helped that fear. But he would know if that had happened to him. This was something else, some kind of trick. Perhaps by The Evil. It had attacked them yesterday. Why not today as well?

  We’ve beaten The Evil before. We can do it again.

  But how, he wondered, could he fight something he couldn’t even see?

  The first step, he told himself, was to find himself. All he had to do was touch something and he would know where he was. That was easier than it sounded, but it was something to aim for. He might not have hands, but he still existed. And if he existed, he had to be somewhere.

  He could tell that he was moving, tumbling and rolling through spaces he could neither see nor sense. But weirdly, he could tell that these spaces weren’t infinite. There were boundaries and edges, and somehow, without eyes or hands, he could glimpse what those shapes were.

  Was that a chair? Or a table?

  Just as he was beginning to make sense of it, a giant’s boot heel came down and crushed him.

  * * *

  Jaide screamed, and the fact that she was still able to scream was oddly reassuring. She wasn’t dead. She was still herself. But where was she now? The engine was roaring and rumbling around her, and she was violently gusted from side to side without warning. The pitch of the engine kept changing, like someone was working a gas pedal in a car. It made her think of Mr. Holland, the town butcher, who drove through Portland like he had never heard of a brake pedal.

  A lightbulb went off in her mind. What if she was somehow in the engine of his car? The only way that could be possible was if she had somehow, madly, impossibly, become the air.