Come Tumbling Down (Wayward Children)

by Seanan McGuire

“When the tide shifts,” he replied. “If we’re to ride with the blessing of the Drowned Gods, we’ll do it when their power is at its greatest. You’d best be nice to me now, Jacky-my-girl. It looks like we’re going to be neighbors for a long, long time.”

  “Only if we win,” said Jack.

  Gideon laughed. “Did you forget? I never lose.”

  Jack’s expression, always sober, turned grim. She looked at Gideon levelly, until he squirmed in his throne and had to fight the obvious urge to turn away.

  “I’m counting on that,” she said.

  Silence fell, save for the thin, gasping sound of Cora’s sobs, and the distant, untamable roaring of the sea.

  13 THE BROKEN CROWN

  JACK SAT RAMROD straight in the driver’s seat of the wagon, reins clutched in her gloved hands, hair braided so tightly that it became a measuring stick for her posture, sketching the line of her spine. She kept her eyes on the horizon, and on the growing shape of a small village protected by a vast wall, huddled in the shadow of a castle like a fawn seeking protection in the jaws of a lion.

  Sumi lounged next to her, perfectly relaxed. She’d managed to acquire a wicked-looking baling hook from somewhere inside the Drowned Abbey and was using it to pick her fingernails, seemingly unconcerned by the fact that it was a rusty piece of metal large enough to pierce her entire hand.

  Christopher and Kade sat to either side of Cora in the bed of the wagon, their shoulders hunched, tense, protective. There was no ocean here, no way for her to drown again, but her skin gleamed with rainbows, and no matter how much water ran from it, her hair never seemed to dry. They knew how close they’d come to losing her. Her and Kade both.

  Cora said nothing as they rode, only gazed back at the shimmering line of the sea, and shivered, and clutched her fingers in the tatters of her shirt like she could serve as her own anchor, her own rocky shore.

  Behind them came the acolytes of the Drowned Abbey, with Gideon at their head, seated astride a creature risen from the briny depths that was something like a great black frog, and something like a terrible fish, and something like nothing that had ever been intended to walk beneath the Moon. The luminous lure sprouting from between its bulbous eyes dangled in front of its terrible maw, sending glints of light dancing across its teeth. Gideon’s sedan chair was affixed to the creature’s back, and he rode with the comfortable ease of someone who knew that the most terrible of potential fates was in front of him, aimed at someone else.

  Further back, behind the silent, hooded acolytes, who carried barnacle-encrusted swords and left trails of saltwater behind them, like they carried the sea itself in their pockets, came the villagers from the nameless settlement that lay beneath the Abbey. To be a villager on the Moors was to be a pawn in the long, slow game of life and death played between monsters, and they knew what was expected of them. They marched with grim expressions on their faces and the tools of their trade in their hands, baling hooks and fishing spears and tridents. Some of their number carried torches as well. Fire and water stood in opposition, but the casual reminder that most things could be flammable under the right circumstances was tradition, and tradition had a large part to play in this encounter.

  Jack held the reins but didn’t move them, trusting Pony and Bones to know the way, and tried not to think of Alexis, alone in the windmill, waiting for her to come home. Alexis wouldn’t care if Jack won or if she lost, only that she survived, and Jack wished she could be that generous with herself; wished, with a fierce inner loathing, that she could be that generous for Alexis. If they failed to get her body back, she was going to break. Maybe not tonight, maybe not for weeks or even months, but she could feel the fault lines forming, could barely fight the urge to score her sister’s unwanted flesh with her fingernails, trying to scrape enough of it away that she could find the cleanliness buried somewhere deep within.

  They had to win. If they lost, even if she lived, she died, and it would be the kind of death that lightning couldn’t save her from. They had to win.

  Clouds gathered overhead, obscuring the great red eye of the moon. In the distance, thunder rolled, and a cold wind swept across the Moors, rattling the brush and chilling the flesh of the marchers. Jack flicked the reins, keeping her eyes only on their destination.

  “It will be all right,” said Sumi. “People will die or they won’t, but either way, it’s almost at an ending, and things that are almost at an ending have a way of making their opinions known.”

  “If that was meant to be comforting, you’re worse at this than I am,” said Jack.

  “Not comforting; comfort comes later. How well do you know Gideon?”

  “He was here before me. His door dropped him on the seashore. I suppose the Moon makes some of our choices for us, and then everyone tries to pretend that She didn’t. That’s the trouble with gods. They don’t care much how poorly they treat their toys.”

  “Mmm. Does he like girls?”

  That was enough to startle Jack into looking Sumi’s direction. The other girl was still picking her fingernails, but she was watching Jack out of the corner of her eye.

  “I don’t know,” said Jack. “I never asked him.”

  “He’s pretty.”

  “I’ve noticed that much, yes, but by the time he became High Priest—thanks to the previous High Priest having an unfortunate accident involving an unsecured widow’s walk and a long plummet into an unwelcoming sea—and was hence free to court, I was already with Alexis, and I find monogamy unhygienic enough. Imagine needing to maintain a grooming regime for multiple partners.” Jack shuddered delicately. “He’s pretty, he’s poisonous, and he’s yours, if you want him. Leave me out of it.”

  “You’re not my type,” said Sumi.

  Jack laughed—a single harsh, mirthless bark—and as if that were the cue for the distance to distort, the walls of the village loomed in front of them, too close too quickly. They were locked against the gathered darkness. Spots of fire glowed from the top, marking the position of the watchmen.

  “I believe this is my cue,” said Jack. She adjusted her glasses, took a deep breath, and called, in a voice gone suddenly sonorous, like the weight of the Moors lay across her shoulders, “I am Jacqueline Wolcott, apprentice to Dr. Michael Bleak, come to answer the challenge set against my house. Open your gates and let us pass. Our quarrel is not with you.”

  “Does that work?” asked Christopher, from the back of the wagon. “Why would these people just let us in when we’re here to fight their big bad boss?”

  “Because we have an army, and they enjoy their homes being unburnt,” said Jack. Her gaze didn’t waver from the wall. “You have to be at least a little bloody-minded to survive here. They know their Master won’t reward them for defending him. That isn’t how a challenge works. All they can do is die for a man who’s never viewed them as anything more than cattle. It would be senseless.”

  As if to prove her point, the gates creaked open. Jack nodded to herself, gathering the reins.

  “They are, however, likely to attempt to pour pitch or oil on us, so we’ll be going through as quickly as—yah!” She flicked the reins as she shouted. Pony and Bones, not bound to the physical limitations of ordinary flesh-and-blood horses, recognized this for the challenge it was and took off at a run so fast that it felt, for a moment, as if the wagon might come apart from the strain.

  They dashed through the open gates directly ahead of a sheet of bubbling liquid that caught fire when it hit the ground. It clung to the cobblestones marking the edge of the village, burning. Cora and Kade watched with wide, horrified eyes as the acolytes of the Drowned Gods continued marching. Gideon raised his hand in a careless wave. The storm, which had been threatening for some time, descended. The sky tore, and water sheeted down, extinguishing the flames.

  The rain was localized, and stopped as quickly as it had started. Kade squinted, and realized he could still see the torches held by the marching villagers, untouched by the downpour.

>   “I don’t think I like this place,” he said, and Cora began to giggle uncontrollably, still clinging to his arm.

  “No one does,” said Jack, slowing the horses. “Either you love it here or you hate it here. The Moors have little time for shades of gray.”

  “That’s no way to live,” said Kade.

  “It’s a very effective way to die,” said Jack, and urged the horses on, an army behind them, the village to all sides. Curtains twitched as people peered out into the street, saw what was happening, and withdrew again, back into the safety of their homes, away from the coming chaos. Jack smirked.

  “He’s never used anything but fear to buy their loyalty. They’re afraid of being murdered in their beds, of seeing their children transformed into monsters, and those are good, reasonable fears—”

  “We have different ideas of ‘reasonable,’” muttered Christopher.

  “—but they aren’t enough to make his people rise up in his defense. If we lose, nothing changes. They still live in fear. If we win, maybe things get better, for a while. Fighting does nothing, so they won’t fight.”

  “Charming,” said Kade.

  Jack laughed and drove on, the forces of the Drowned Abbey behind her.

  They traveled the length of the village, and when they reached the lower walls of the castle, Jack stopped the horses and slid down, patting Pony’s flank before she turned to the others. The army marched on, heading for the long, winding road up to the castle. Gideon looked over at the group as he passed, and he winked, seeming pleased by their abdication of the vanguard.

  “There’s a door,” Jack said. “It’s meant to be hidden, but I know the way.”

  “Why?” asked Sumi.

  “The Master wanted me for his daughter, once. He would have killed Jill if he’d been allowed to have me. So I left, through the hidden door, in the company of Dr. Bleak. It was the first time I saved my sister.” She tugged her gloves more securely into place. “I’ve saved her three times now. I suppose that means I’ve met my quota. Come along.”

  She walked the length of the wall, stopping at a stone that looked like all the stones around it. She reached up and pushed it, and it slid inward with a soft click. A door swung open in what should have been solid stone.

  On the other side was a woman. She was thin and pale and hunched in on herself, like she feared the consequences of taking up too much space. Her hair was a Medusa’s nest of tangled brown curls that seemed almost to move of its own accord; her eyes were the color of dishwater, and so very tired. She looked at Jack. Jack looked at her, both silent for the measure of a moment.

  Finally, Jack said, “You’re younger than I remember you being. I thought…” She stopped.

  The woman almost smiled. “You were a child,” she said. “To a child, anyone old enough to be in high school is ancient. I’ll be thirty in the fall, if I survive this day’s work. Old enough to know what I’m dying for. Tell me why you’re here, girl who chose to leave us.”

  “This is portentous and all, but can we hurry things up?” Christopher glanced at the sky, where black clouds loomed. “I don’t like the looks of that storm.”

  “I do,” said Jack, eyes still on the woman. “The Master and Jill came to our home. They attacked Dr. Bleak. They attacked me. A challenge has been issued for balance of this protectorate, and I’m within my rights to answer.”

  “It looks like you’ve answered with a frontal assault.”

  “I have. They’ll storm the gates, break into the hall, fight the Master’s servants. Some of them will die. I’ll resurrect as many as I can, once this is over.” Jack sounded unconcerned. It would have been chilling, if she hadn’t also sounded so tired. “Perhaps they’ll even face the Master, although there’s not much chance they’ll kill him, not when the Drowned Gods haven’t come out of the sea. I’m here for my sister.”

  The woman nodded. “What will you do if you find her? I know what she did to you.” Her lips twisted. “I brushed her hair and tied her stays for years. There was no way I’d miss the fact that she’s in a body not her own.”

  “I’ll take back what belongs to me,” said Jack. “And once I’m secure in my own skin, I’ll kill her. Please, Mary. Let us pass.”

  Mary nodded and stepped aside. Jack was almost through when Mary’s hand shot out and grasped her wrist, hauling her to a stop.

  “Everyone who comes here becomes a monster: you, me, your sister, everyone,” said Mary, voice low and fast and urgent. “The doors only open for the monsters in waiting. But you made the right choice when you left this castle, because you would have been the worst monster of them all if you had grown up in a vampire’s care.”

  “I know,” said Jack, and twisted her wrist free, and walked on.

  The others followed her, first Sumi, then Kade and Cora. Christopher brought up the rear, bone flute in his hand and shadows in his eyes. Too many of the children at school had called his door, his world, monstrous, but he’d never really known what that meant: not until this place, with its shadows and its secrets and its terrible, watching moon. Once he was through the door, Mary stepped outside and closed it behind her, and there was relief and sorrow in that motion, like she was doing something that couldn’t be taken back.

  Jack kept walking.

  The corridor seemed to have been hewn from the very stone of the castle’s foundations. The walls were slick with unspeakable fungus and foul liquids; the corners were packed with cobwebs, and while he couldn’t be sure—didn’t want to be sure—Kade thought he saw a spider the size of a rat scurrying behind the glittering film. Torches dotted the passageway, one roughly every ten feet or so, and the smell of fragrant smoke covered the other, less pleasant odors.

  Kade walked a little faster, catching up to Sumi and nudging her, ever so gently, aside. She fell back to walk beside Cora. He matched his steps to Jack’s, and waited.

  “This is the only way,” she said.

  “Killing someone’s not that easy,” he said.

  She laughed, low and bitter. “I already killed her once, remember?”

  “With the intention of bringing her back. You’re not going to do that this time, are you?”

  “No.” Jack shook her head. “It’s not safe to have her stalking the battlements and planning another way to get my body. She has to die. I’ll salvage what I can. I’ll spread her organs throughout the Moors, give them to people whose lives will be bettered by her sacrifice, and maybe sometimes I’ll see those people and think ‘that man has my sister’s heart, that woman has my sister’s eyes, I didn’t kill her completely; she still did something good, she’s still here.’ But Jill herself? The girl I shared a womb with, the girl who was meant to matter to me more than anything else? She dies tonight. In my body or her own, she dies.”

  Kade was quiet for a few moments before he said, “I could do it.”

  “You?” Jack glanced his way. “You’re squeamish. You dislike the sight of blood. You couldn’t help us melt the flesh from a corpse. No. I appreciate the offer, but no. My sister’s death is my responsibility, and no one else’s.”

  They had reached the base of a narrow stone stairway. Jack stopped, taking a deep breath, and turned to the others.

  “It may seem hypocritical to do this now, but I feel I must offer you the opportunity to stay behind,” she said. “You’ve been invaluable in getting me to this point. From here, I can continue alone.”

  “You won’t win alone,” said Sumi.

  Jack inclined her head. “In all likelihood, no. But I’ll feel less as if I’ve drawn my only friends to their doom. I’d prefer it if you accompanied me. I am … afraid. More so than I expected to be. One way or another, no one is going to refer to ‘the Wolcott sisters’ after tonight, because there won’t be any. If I fail, if I fall, please take Alexis back to the school. She won’t be safe here.”

  “We will,” said Kade. “But you’re not going to fail, and you’re not leaving us behind.”

  “I drowned
because of this girl,” said Cora. “I’m seeing this through to the end.”

  Christopher said nothing, only nodded and ran his fingers along the flute he clutched so tightly in his hands.

  Jack sighed, and smiled, and turned to begin the long, slow walk up the stairs, toward the castle heights, to where a vampire and his daughter waited.

  14 CAME TUMBLING AFTER

  THE STAIRS WENT on for the better part of what felt like forever, until all of them were plodding, and even Sumi had stopped trying to pick up the pace. When they finally reached the top, Jack paused, pressing one hand against her chest, and wheezed.

  “Would it have killed her to go jogging once in a while?” she asked, a note of fear behind the peevishness. She was going into battle while wearing a body whose limitations she didn’t understand and had no time to learn. “I swear, ‘I’m going to become a deathless creature of the night’ is not a substitute for a comprehensive fitness plan.”

  “Maybe you should let us go in first,” said Kade.

  Jack shook her head. “That’s not how these things are done,” she said.

  “I never thought you were stupid,” said Sumi. When Jack whipped around to glare at her, she shrugged. “Doing something you know could get you hurt because it’s how things are done isn’t smart.”

  “Maybe not,” said Jack. She sighed and straightened, her breathing leveling out. “But I have to live with myself when this is over, and that means I go in first.” There was a crash beneath them. The castle shook on its foundations. The crack of thunder split the sky. There were no windows, but the air became harsh and electric, and they knew, every one of them, that the lightning had followed the thunder almost instantly, out of order and intentionally so, that the storm was perched directly above them.

  Jack closed her eyes. Only for a moment; long enough to take a deep, ozone-laden breath.

  “It’s time,” she said. “Thank you for coming this far.”

  Then she opened her eyes, and turned, and opened the door.