Miraclist

by P B Hughes

  “She’ll join Caden’s team,” said Jude, picking back up his book and turning the page.

  Mordecai frowned. “A girl like that should stay away from Caden Baine if she knows what’s good for her.” He reached for the door and turned the knob.

  “Wait—Mordecai,” said Daniel. “Jude was invited to—”

  “To join another team with a few students from another school,” Jude interrupted, giving Daniel a dangerous glare. “I declined their offer, of course.”

  “I’m not surprised,” said Mordecai. “Especially with the way you fought today. It was a brilliant display.”

  “Yes—well, goodnight, Mordecai,” said Jude, not removing his stare from Daniel.

  Mordecai looked at Jude for a moment, and then shook his head. “Right—goodnight, boys. See you tomorrow.”

  With that, Mordecai left.

  “What was that for?” Daniel hissed. “I was going to ask him about Greavus’ invitation.”

  “He can’t know,” Jude replied. “With the state of mind he’s in, it’s unlikely he would let us go—much less approve of your plan to sneak in.”

  “He has got a point, said Gregory. “Mordecai would just try to stop us.”

  “And for good reason,” Daniel sighed, laying his head down.

  Chapter 27

  Jude stalked along the walkway next to the high white walls of Burk Mansion, his arms folded tightly across his chest. His raven black hair was neatly brushed, tied back into a ponytail with a white ribbon. A recently-washed forest green cloak fastened with a silver clasp fashioned as a leaf fell about his hunched shoulders. A pristine white collar frilled out at the neck and sleeves. His black boots clicked as he walked, the tips sparkling as the rays of evening sun grazed the polished leather. Towering oak trees stretched their branches over the wall, casting long shadows over him as he walked from patches of darkness to the ever-dwindling light. He stopped in front of a black iron gate. The bars looked remarkably like growling teeth, he thought. A sentry dressed in a black tunic stood outside. He glared down at Jude from beneath an acorn-shaped helm, his abundant mustachio wagging with displeasure. Jude hesitated. It was almost six-thirty and he knew he shouldn’t be late, but a sense of foreboding gave him pause. He gave a sideways glance down the road to a row of portly arborvitae bushes that grew alongside a neighbor’s wall. Peeping out from behind them were two heads like yellow and brown birds, one above and the other just beneath. It was there that Daniel and Gregory had decided to hide until enough time lapsed to avoid suspicion. Gregory gave Jude a nod to proceed, his eager blue eyes sparkling with anticipation.

  Jude heaved a sigh. He slid a hand into his pocket and pulled out the invitation. The edges of his mouth tightened as he examined the piece of paper—grimacing as though it were a ticket given to him by a policeman. His green eyes flit up to the guard.

  “I’m here for dinner.”

  The guard’s pupils constricted as he studied Jude, and then reached out a leathery palm expectantly. Jude handed him the invitation and wiped his hands, glad to be rid of it.

  “You match the description,” grunted the guard. He tapped the gate with the hilt of his sword. The heavy gate began to slide open, rolling slowly as concealed guards turned a crankshaft.

  “Up that path,” muttered the guard, pointing to a walkway that wound to the front steps of the stately home.

  Again, Jude wavered. The mansion looked more like a castle than a home, built from ghostly Caen Limestone that rose up like a giant block of ice. Thin, pointed spires jutted up from each corner, slicing through the surrounding forest of trees. Glass windows revealed nothing of their contents—dark with gloom, save one from the right-hand tower, shimmered with swimming candlelight. Ink colored crows, cawing gravelly warnings, saddled the rampart-studded walkways that stretched from tower to tower.

  Jude shoved his hands inside of his pockets, and began his ascent up the tree-lined path. From behind the thick trunks, mournful eyes of marble statues—strange, hairless men and women—peered at him; specters in the dusk-ridden shade that looked as though they would fade into the oncoming night. He averted his gaze, keeping his eyes on the path before him out of fear, though of what he wasn’t entirely sure. He could not shake the feeling that if he continued, he would become as they were—cold, frozen in time, a wretched race more akin to reptiles than people. Finally, Jude reached the front steps; each was carved deep in the stone, worn smooth and bowed with centuries of use. Guarding either side were two horned gargoyles, flexing with behemoth strength as they clenched the platforms beneath them, teeth bared. Jude’s mouth opened in surprise—the gargoyles were not made of marble, as the rest of the statues were. They were shaped from solid silver, sleek and burnished.

  They must be worth a fortune, he thought admiringly, running a hand down the rippling arm.

  “Boy,” called a voice from the top of the stairs.

  Jude looked up to see the silhouette of a woman standing in the shadowed entrance of the mansion. Behind her, the enormous oaken doors were agape; red light glowed from within, casting a reflection on the stone terrace.

  “Come—they are waiting for you.”

  * * *

  Gregory fidgeted inside the bushes. A branch unremittingly jabbed at him from behind, no matter where he moved inside the hiding place. Fed up, he reached behind him and snapped it with two hands.

  “Shh,” hushed Daniel, who was having an even worse time of it as something in the bushes caused him to have a sneezing fit, turning his nose cherry red.

  “Shush yourself, Lobster Snout,” rebutted Gregory. “You’ve made far more noise than I have with you constant schnoz-blowing.” He reached over and cracked another branch. “I’m sick of these itchy bushes—can we get out of here?”

  “Almost—we ha-ha—” Daniel sneezed “—have to wait longer.” He rubbed his nose with his sleeve.

  “Let’s at least wait outside,” Gregory said. “Mordecai will be furious if we soil our dress robes.”

  The two of them no longer wore their blue and red cloaks, but had exchanged their usual attire for formal black robes with high white collars, similar to the one Jude wore.

  “All right,” said Gregory when another branch jabbed him in the ribs, “You stay here and be cut to ribbons—I’m leaving.” He crawled out of the bushes and brushed himself off.

  “But Gregory,” Daniel hissed. “Jude said to wait.”

  “Jude-shmood, he’s not our boss. Now come on, I don’t want to miss dinner.”

  Daniel grumbled inaudibly, and then sneezed. He begrudgingly edged out of the bushes on all fours, and stood up next to Gregory, who gave him a scrutinizing stare.

  “You’re always a mess, Daniel,” he criticized, picking twigs from his hair. “You really need to learn to be more fashionable—no girl will like you if you keep dressing like a kid.”

  “This wasn’t my idea,” Daniel said, his face reddening as he pulled his sleeves up. “When I’m rich I’ll buy myself a dozen dress cloaks.”

  They walked along the sidewalk, the street lit by lamps overhead. The guard gave no indication that he noticed them.

  “You first,” Gregory whispered, nudging Daniel forward.

  Daniel gulped and reached inside his cloak for Mr. Burk’s crumpled card. He unfolded it and extended it nervously.

  “Excuse me,” said Daniel.

  Nothing moved but the guard’s eyes as he gave Daniel a cold stare.

  “We’re here to see Bartholomew Burk.”

  Daniel sneezed.

  “And what, may I ask, is your business?” the guard said perfunctorily.

  Gregory could see the apprehension register on Daniel’s face.

  “Mr. Burk asked to purchase my gryphon,” Daniel explained.

  “Mr. Burk never mentioned anything about a gryphon,” replied the guard suspiciously, his mustache bouncing, “just that there was a dinner going on tonight for him and a select few guests.” He unraveled a scroll and ran a finger
down its middle. “And each of them has arrived.”

  Gregory shoved Daniel aside and stepped forward.

  “My good man,” he said, adopting a sophisticated accent. “My partner and I have no time for dilly-dallying—Barty asked that we meet him at our convenience to sell him our pet. Now if you don’t want to lose your job I suggest you let us through!”

  The guard remained skeptical, glancing from Gregory back to Daniel. “What time is your appointment?”

  “Appointment? Appointment he says! Mr. Burk knows how busy we are and told us to come at our convenience.”

  The guard looked unconvinced. “You two aren’t the first to try to get in uninvited—I’m tired of liars and tricksters pretending to have business with Mr. Burk just to catch a glimpse of the gardens—now get out of here before I box your ears!”

  This time Daniel spoke up. “Ask Mr. Burk if you need verification! Tell him we’re here to sell a black gryphon—he’ll prove our story to be true.”

  The guard’s mustache twitched. He turned around and whistled.

  A youngster no older than ten scurried up to the guard. The guard whispered in his ear. “And be quick about it!”

  The boy was off like a scared mouse across the lawn and up the path where he disappeared.

  The guard lunged, grabbing Daniel and Gregory by the arms. “I’m in a particularly foul mood today,” he growled, “and I have little patience for rascals like you. I’m going to see to it you are both punished for lying!”

  They tried to pull away, but he only tightened his grip, a cruel smile underneath his whiskers.

  After several minutes, the boy returned, scampering back down the path, holding a white note in his hand. He stuck it through the bars for the guard to read. The guard scanned it and let the boys go.

  “My apologies, good sirs,” he said very quickly, adopting a polite air. “Lady Lugat says she will see you.”

  “Lady Lugat?” asked Daniel, rubbing his wrist.

  “She handles Mr. Burk’s financial transactions,” said the guard, tapping the gate with the hilt of his sword. “Let them through!”

  “Lady Lugat?” asked Daniel, rubbing his wrist.

  “She handles Mr. Burk’s financial transactions,” said the guard, tapping the gate with the hilt of his sword. “Let them through!”

  Gregory gave the guard an angry glare and opened his mouth to say something when he thought better of it. Best to not push our luck, he decided.

  “That fellow has a grip like a gorilla,” Gregory muttered as they walked through the gate and up the path.

  “Let’s just hope he’s not the one to escort us out when they find out why we’re really here,” Daniel responded.

  They passed through the dark lawn and reached the steps of the house. Immediately, the front doors swung open, and they were met by a rotund butler. Next to him stood a young woman dressed in a flowing ebony dress. Despite her young appearance, her hair was completely white, falling about her shoulders, and Gregory thought her beautiful. Her eyes were nearly black, as if a solid pupil. He wondered if that was simply the darkness hiding their true color.

  “Welcome to the Burk Mansion,” said the woman airily, looking them over. “I am Lady Lugat. You are the ones with the pet gryphon?”

  Daniel nodded.

  “Please,” she motioned, “come in.”

  They walked up the steps and into a spacious vestibule. Before them, twin staircases spiraled in opposite directions up to a second floor. To the right and left, two hallways tunneled through—a labyrinth winding through the home, leading travelers to its cave-like rooms. A ruby chandelier hung from the soaring ceiling, creating shapes on the black marble floor that shimmered like droplets of blood. Beneath the stairways stood a statue of a man, solid gold, with bat-like wings fanned out and arms outstretched to the heavens.

  “I’m afraid you’ve come at a bad time,” she said as she led them through the right hand hallway. “Mr. Burk is engaged in a private dinner—though he did inform me of your coming. I have yet to tell him of your arrival, though I’m sure he will be pleased.”

  The darkened tunnel was lined with suits of armor and glowing lanterns that cast orange light upon the black velvet rug. “It will be at least an hour before he is able to see you, but rest assured, it will be worth your time.”

  Paintings of nobles and relatives with upturned noses stared down at them from picture frames as they walked, disapproving of their presence. At the end of the hall, they reached a narrow staircase, twisting upward like a corkscrew. They ascended each step, higher and higher, until they stopped in front of a thick oak door. She slipped a key inside and turned the knob. “I will inform Mr. Burk of your arrival as soon as possible.” With that, she let them inside the room and swiftly shut the door behind her.

  The boys found themselves inside a library. Near the back was a table and a window that looked out across the front lawn. The room was lit by a solitary candle melted to a nub. The flame flickered from a breeze let in by a crack in the window, causing the shadows in the room to dance like living beings. Bookshelves lined the walls, laden with very old, very thick texts. Gregory heard Daniel let out a gasp of horror. Heads! Heads of all sorts—bears, leopards, wyverns, and wild boars—great and terrible. But the most disgusting and terrifying of all was the severed head of a green goblin—eyes like a cat, mouth set in a permanent scream, teeth like knives—hanging in the forefront, dominating the room.

  “What sort of man cuts the heads from living creatures and displays them for the world to see?” said Daniel, aghast.

  Gregory shrugged. “Maybe he’s a hunter. Some of these are pretty amazing specimens if you ask me.”

  Something in the corner where the candle’s light did not touch seemed to catch Daniel’s attention. Gregory followed Daniel’s gaze to where a pair of familiar eyes stared up at them, piercing and proud. Daniel rushed over to the table, took the candle and held it up to light the corner. He let out a curse at the sight. There, stuffed with its wings at its side, was a black gryphon.

  Gregory pulled back. “Is that Sh-Shade?” he asked, suddenly panic-stricken.

  Daniel edged toward the creature, gazing into its eyes. He shook his head. “No, not Shade—just another of her kind.”

  Gregory covered his mouth and nose, feeling as though he caught the rotting smell of sewage. “Now we know why he’s so interested in her—he wants a matching set.”

  Daniel recoiled from the stuffed shell of what was once a beautiful beast. “Well he won’t get her—come on, let’s get out of here.” He slid the candle back down on the desk, the flame vanishing, causing the room to fall into shadow. Together, they felt their way to the door. Daniel opened it carefully.

  “Now what?” whispered Gregory.

  “We find Jude.”

  They stole down the staircase, creeping as they went until they reached the foot, quickly ducking behind a suit of armor. There, at the end of the hall, a guard stood, reprimanding the butler like a deranged Doberman, ripping into him with incoherent shouts, flailing his arms furiously. Across the hall, another perpendicular passageway intersected, running along the eastern wing of the house. Daniel tapped Gregory on the shoulder, and nodded toward the hall.

  “On my signal,” Daniel murmured.

  The guard increased the volume of his bellows, his entire focus on the butler. Daniel gave Gregory a tap and darted across to the other side. The guard took no notice of them, but they did not stop, tearing down the corridor until the man’s voice faded.

  They listened for any sign of noise that might lead them to Jude and slowed to a sneak. They passed room after lightless room filled with elaborate furniture and a great number of taxidermy—a shadow of a grizzly bear that stood nearly twenty feet high—a giant scorpion with horrible pincers. They approached another room—the sound of running water emanated down the hall. Pale light fell out from the entrance onto the floor. When they reached the glow, both of them stopped, in awe o
f what was before them. An indoor garden, thick with vegetation, filled the inside, lit by the stars and moon that cast their gleam through the high glass ceiling above. Trees swept their branches over a manmade stream that ran down the middle of the room, their trunks and roots thick from constant feeding. A grassy blanket covered the floor, superbly kept thorny shrubs growing here and there. Ivy clung to the walls—a thick coat that made the room appear more like a jungle than anything created by human hands. But perhaps the most impressive sight of all was the waterfall that fell from the second story, causing the river to thrash and slide with swift momentum into the wall at the other end and through a drain.

  “Come on,” said Daniel to Gregory as he stood gaping. “We can’t linger—we don’t want to be caught.”

  The two of them left the room, hurrying through the maze-like mansion, down hallway after hallway—not a soul in sight. Finally, something caught Gregory’s attention: a golden statue of a coiled cobariss in the center of an empty walkway, two burning torches on either side of it. Gregory felt a shiver run down his spine as the creature leered down at them, fangs bared, eyes of jade flashing hatefully. A river of diamond scales ran down its back carved in minute detail. Gregory reached out his hand and stroked the beast’s side, but withdrew quickly.

  “It’s horrid looking…yet beautiful,” said Daniel.

  “I’ll say,” responded Gregory. “It would appear Mr. Burk has an obsession with rare beasts—though only dead ones.” He looked the creature over, and then leaned forward. “Daniel, look!”

  There, near the back of the great snake was a small stone button, rising just a quarter of an inch above the rest of the floor.

  “It’s a switch like the one in Moda’s cave!” Almost out of reflex, Gregory stepped on the button with his boot, pressing it to the floor.

  A low rumble sounded as the statue began to slide away. There, built directly into the wall was a tunnel leading to a sturdy wooden door. The boys stepped inside, and the statue slid back into place behind them.