Fate's Edge

TWO

JACK sheathed his knife, tied the dressed hare to a stick, and slung it over his shoulder. It wouldn’t do for the meat to touch his school uniform. Might make the kill dirty.

He headed down the forest path. It was a nice rabbit. No bugs. No sickness—all the innards smelled right. He’d killed it quick, by breaking its neck with his fangs. Best that way because the hare didn’t suffer, and the meat wasn’t contaminated. Jack had changed back into a human, washed the hare in a stream, and taken care to field-dress it properly.

He always brought a gift when he came to see William. He was going into his den, and William didn’t have to let him in. It was polite to bring a present.

Jack grimaced. He wasn’t very good at polite, according to his sister, Rose. But William and he never had an issue. They were both changelings, and some things were unspoken but understood: bring a gift, don’t show your teeth, don’t stare at Cerise for too long. Not that he liked Cerise like that. It was just that she was William’s wife, and when Jack tried to explain things, it made sense to her. When he tried to explain things to his own sister, he got chewed out.

And that was precisely the problem.

Around him, the late-summer forest teemed with life. Tiny squirrels chased each other through the branches, chittering in outrage at some perceived slight. Forest mice scurried between the roots of huge Weird oaks. Butterflies floated on the breeze like bright petals. Although Jack had been born in the Edge, he liked the Weird’s forests. They were old and powerful and held magic secrets. Still, he missed hunting in the Edge woods, creeping up on soft paws along the branches of a huge tree, smelling the moss, and hunting Edge critters in the dusk. It was the last time he remembered being really free.

A small yellow butterfly glided closer, bouncing up and down on air currents above his head. He paused, frozen.

Up and down, bright yellow wings. Bounce, bounce, bounce . . .

Jack jumped a couple of feet into the air and swatted at the butterfly with his hand. Ha! Got it.

He opened his fingers carefully. The butterfly crawled up his palm, fluttering the lemony yellow wings. It climbed the heel of his hand, onto his thumb, spread its wings, and glided off, leaving a faint yellow dust on his skin. He watched it fly away with an odd longing. It was not that he wanted to be one. Butterflies couldn’t hunt, couldn’t speak, and their lives were short. But butterflies could fly about carefree. They didn’t have to worry about being sent off to military prison schools.

Jack sighed, sniffed the traces of powder on his palm—they smelled dry and flowery—and went on his way.

Four years ago, he, George, and Rose had lived together in the Edge, a narrow strip between the Broken of no magic and the Weird of too much magic. They lived in an old house. They were poor. Really, really poor. He didn’t understand how poor they were until they came to the Weird. Their mother had died. Jack didn’t remember her that well, except for a faint scent. He had smelled something similar once, in the perfume of a girl at a ball, and that scent had opened a big gaping hole inside him. He’d had to leave right then, so he’d gone over the top-floor balcony into the trees, and when he’d returned in the morning, he had to go into Declan’s office and explain himself.

With their mom dead, their dad had run off. Jack recalled him but only vaguely, just a blurry, man-shaped thing. He remembered the voice, though, a rough, funny voice. Their dad went to look for some treasure and never came back. It was just him, Rose, George, and Grandma. Rose worked all the time. George and he had to go to school in the Broken. George had been slowly dying because he couldn’t let things go. Every time George had found something that had died, a bird, a kitten, Grandpa, he’d bring it back to life—but it took his own life force to keep it going. Right before they moved to the Weird, George had brought back so many things, he was sick all the time.

Jack sighed. People had picked on George, but he’d always fight for him. That was his job, Jack reflected. He protected George and Rose. He was a changeling, a predator. Stronger and faster than other people even in the Broken, without magic.

And then Declan came from the Weird. Big, strong, wearing armor and carrying swords, and blowing houses up with a flash so powerful it was like white lightning. Declan wanted Rose. He fixed George’s problem, defeated the monsters, protected everyone, then Rose fell in love with him, and off they went into the Weird.

Grandma didn’t want to go. She came to visit every summer, so it wasn’t all bad.

In the Weird, changelings didn’t live with normal people. Most of the time, their parents gave them up for adoption by the government, and they were sent off to Hawk’s Military Academy. William had gone through Hawk’s. He said it was like a prison: no toys, no books; nothing except seven changes of clothes, towel, toothbrush, and hairbrush. Changelings at Hawk’s lived in small, sterile rooms. It was a life of studies and constant drills, designed to turn them into perfect soldiers. Jack read an article about it once—it said that changeling children couldn’t understand how regular people interacted. “A controlled low-stimulus environment” was better for them.

There was nothing worse than Hawk’s. Jack felt an odd tightness in his back and shrugged to get rid of it. Rose and Declan had both told him that he would never be sent there. But the older he got, the more he screwed up.

Last night, Declan sat him down and told him that they couldn’t keep going on like this. Changes had to be made. He didn’t say anything about Hawk’s, but Jack could read between the lines. He wasn’t a baby.

William was his only hope. William was Declan’s best friend. If anyone could come to Jack’s defense, it would be him.

He had to make William understand how things were before it was too late.

WILLIAM’S house sat in the middle of a vast grassy lawn, bordered by ancient ashes and oaks. It was a big place, three stories with an attic on top, all brown stone under a roof of green clay shingles. Four round towers, two stories high, sat at the corners of the house. Each tower had a round balcony with a stone rail on the second floor. Their other place was even bigger, a mansion the size of Declan and Rose’s house, but William and Cerise both hated it. They still went there once in a while because it had a bigger pool.

Jack left the tree line, crossed the lawn, and stood in front of the arched entrance, letting William catch his scent. One minute, two . . . Long enough.

He went to the arched front door. It swung open under his fingertips, admitting him into the dark stone entranceway. The door shut behind him, and darkness took him into her black mouth and gulped him down. Jack crouched on instinct, letting his eyes adjust.

William could kill any intruder while he stood there, blinking like an owl. When Jack got his own house, he’d have an entrance just like this one.

Jack’s pupils caught the weak light and the glint of a trip wire strung across the way just at the right height to trip an unsuspecting attacker’s ankle. Jack stepped over it, went through to the next door, and out into the courtyard. The bright light of the day shocked his eyes again. He blinked until he saw a blue pool on the left, surrounded by a stone pathway. Around the path, flowers bloomed in curvy flower beds, yellow and blue blossoms catching the sun with delicate petals. His nostrils caught wood smoke. Cerise was cooking.

Jack headed down the path to the back of the house, through a side door, and into the large kitchen. The huge solid table took up most of the room. William lounged at the other side of it in a big chair, close enough to touch Cerise, who stood at a stone counter. Like Declan, William was tall, but where Rose’s husband was blond and buff, William was black-haired, lean, and hard. Their stares met. William’s eyes shone with yellow once. Just a friendly warning. Jack looked to the floor for a second to let him know he didn’t have a problem with his authority.

When he looked up, Cerise was grinning at him from the counter. She was short and tan, with long dark hair, and she wore a blue apron. “A hare! Is that for us?”

Jack nodded and offered her the hare. Cerise took it. “That’s perfect, Jack. Just in time. And so nicely cleaned, too.”

Jack grinned. She liked it.

“Come, sit.” William pushed a glass of Adrianglian tea in his direction. Jack swiped the cup and landed in the nearest chair. Cerise set a pan on the fire, threw some chopped bacon into it, and started peeling an onion.

“How’s it going?” William asked.

“Fine.” Jack kept his voice flat. He’d have to go about this conversation very carefully.

“How’s school?” Cerise asked, chopping the onion to pieces.

“Fine.”

William and Cerise looked at each other.

“How’s the school really?” William asked.

Jack looked at the table. He was one week into his first year of the Royal College. The College was a big deal. It cost a lot of money and had the best teachers, and he had to pass a load of exams to be admitted. George was two years ahead of him, and he loved it. If someone else had asked him, Jack would’ve said the school was fine because Rose and Declan were paying for it, and he didn’t want to be ungrateful. But this was William’s house, which meant he didn’t have to lie.

“It’s strange.”

“Strange good or strange bad?” Cerise added onion and garlic to the pan. The aroma tugged on Jack. He licked his lips. Cerise cut the rabbit into bite-sized chunks and swept the meat into the pan, too. Mmmm, smells good.

“Strange strange,” he said. “People don’t talk to me, that’s fine. I don’t need to talk to them, either. But they talk behind my back all the time. The girls are the worst. They huddle and whisper things, and when I try to be nice and talk to them, they get all weird. They’re calling me Brother of the Cursed Prince.”

William sat up straight. “What?”

“They call George the Cursed Prince because he does necromancy. And I’m his brother.”

Cerise sighed and stirred the meat. “Girls at your age are odd. I know, I was one. Adults expect them to have little romances, and they kind of think they ought to have them because that’s what grown-up women do, but really they’re little girls, and they have no idea how to go about it. Boys are a mystery. Ask Lark. She will tell you.”

Lark was Cerise’s younger sister. Jack looked down at the table again. “Lark and I aren’t friends anymore.”

Cerise stopped stirring the rabbit in the pan. “Since when?”

“Since two weeks ago.”

“What happened?” William asked. “Did you do something?”

Jack shook his head. “She said that she and I were too much of the same. She said I was wild and she was wild, and when we got together, we were crazy. She says she isn’t mad at me, but she won’t go to the woods to hunt with me anymore. She spends time with George now. She says he’s civilized.”

He wasn’t even sure what the hell that meant. One day, Lark was there; the next, she wasn’t. It pissed him off and made him sad, until he was too confused to do anything about it.

William fixed him with his wolf eyes. “Lark is broken in the head.”

“Damaged,” Cerise said with steel in her voice.

“Damaged,” William repeated. “Sorry. You know about the slavers?”

Jack nodded. Years ago, slavers had come to their house in the Edge and tried to kidnap Rose. His sister had the strongest magic in the Edge. Her flash was pure white, and she still practiced with it at least an hour every day. The magic made her valuable.

“Slavers stole Lark,” William told him. “They put her in a hole in a ground and didn’t feed her. One of them got into the hole with her to molest her.”

Jack bared his teeth. “What?”

“She killed him with her magic,” Cerise said. Her face looked strained, as if she was trying to keep herself calm. “They stopped feeding her. It was just her and his body for over a week. She didn’t know how long she would stay in the hole or when we’d find her.”

They both looked at him. This was an adult thing or a human thing, and he wasn’t getting it, so he just waited.

“She might have eaten the slaver,” William said.

Jack nodded. It was a fair kill. It was gross, but if he were stuck in a hole in the ground for a week, surrounded by enemies, he might have eaten human flesh, too.

“It’s different for not-changeling people,” William said. “It damages them.”

“Why? Is there poison in the meat?”

“It’s not that kind of damage,” Cerise said. “Lark thinks that she is a horrible monster because of what she did. She hates herself a little, and she is trying to forget about it. Have you noticed how she is always wearing pretty dresses now, and her hair is always brushed really well?”

He’d noticed. He also noticed that she wouldn’t go to the woods with him anymore. They used to have fun. They’d hunt and hang out. Now she wanted to sit on the chair on the balcony and have tea with Rose.

“She wants to be normal right now,” Cerise told him. “She wants to forget the ugliness, so she is making everything around her pretty.”

“And I am ugly,” Jack said.

Cerise put her hand over her face. “Oy.”

“You’re not ugly,” William said. “You’re violent. You like to hunt and kill, and she can’t handle the blood right now. Let her work it out on her own. When she’s ready, she’ll find you.”

“Girls just don’t like me,” Jack said. “They prefer George.”

“The girls at school like George because he is safe,” Cerise said. “George has perfect manners, he is calm, and they know that if they are alone with him, nothing will happen. Don’t try to be George. The kind of girls that like him are the wrong girls for you. You’re looking for the girls that are attracted to a boy with a dark, dangerous side.”

“I don’t have a dark side,” Jack said.

“Of course you do. At this age, it’s all about the roles you play. When William and I do work for the Mirror, we often have to be somebody else. We have to put on different costumes and look the part.”

“But I don’t want to be somebody else.”

“That’s not what I am saying.” Cerise sighed. “Let’s take George. He puts on his costume, goes to school, and plays the role of the Tragic Prince.”

“Cursed,” Jack corrected.

“Cursed. But at home he’s normal, right?”

Jack considered it. True, George was a bit weird at school. He rarely laughed, and sometimes he would stand by the windows and stare into the distance, looking sad, while a gaggle of girls whispered about him nearby.

“Yes,” Jack said. “I get it.”

“You just need to find your role. George is a Cursed Prince, and you might do better as the Mysterious Dark Loner.”

William stared at his wife. “You thought way too much about this.”

Cerise waved her hand at him. “You hush. Jack, look, it’s very simple. You just have to keep to yourself and look nonchalant.”

Jack blinked. “What?”

“William does a really good nonchalant look.” Cerise turned to William. “Do the nonchalant for him.”

William sighed and looked at Jack. It wasn’t any sort of special look. It was just flat.

“So I have to look bored?”

“You have to look like you don’t care. Like you would rather be somewhere else.”

“I would! I would rather be anywhere else.”

“Then it shouldn’t be too hard. Don’t tell people about yourself. Try not to get excited about anything where people can see you. If someone challenges you to a fight, shrug and keep going. If they persist, kick their ass. And once in a while, be yourself and do something randomly kind, the way you usually do, like help a smaller kid. If someone asks you why you do something, look nonchalant and tell them they just wouldn’t understand and that there are things about you they’re better off not knowing. Girls will eat it up.”

Jack glanced at William for confirmation. William shrugged and looked nonchalant.

“Give it a shot,” Cerise said. “Jack, you have to go to school. Trust me, you can’t do anything in the Weird without at least a third-degree graduation scroll in your hand.”

Jack inspected the table for a bit. “Nonchalant won’t work on Rose and Declan,” he said.

“What happened?” William leaned toward him and fixed Jack with his wolf stare. It was a hard, merciless stare that pinned Jack in place like a knife. If he met a wolf who looked at him like that in the forest, Jack would’ve puffed his fur out and snarled. And if that didn’t work, he’d take off as fast as he could.

“There was a ball,” Jack said, trying to keep his voice monotone. “Or a banquet. One of those things Declan does because of his job as Marshal. A lot of people came. I walked around. They never notice me because I am quiet. Some people were standing there eating shrimp and those crab things on toast. I walked up behind them. They were talking about Rose. An older man said that Declan had all those women he could’ve picked and he had to go to the Edge to get himself a whore, and why do they suppose he had to do that?”

His voice was building. Jack knew he should keep calm, but the fury he’d felt last night woke up again inside him, like an animal that rose to find himself caged. He remembered every word and every sound of that conversation. William had told him before that it was a changeling thing, and his perfect memory was spurring him on now.

“And then the woman in blue on his left said that maybe there was something wrong with Declan, physically. He had to get the kind of woman who was dependent on him completely, so she wouldn’t say anything.”

The anger was scratching at him now, trying to rip him up from the inside out and escape. The skin between his knuckles itched, eager to let his claws out.

“And the other woman, in yellow, she said, ‘Like mother like son. His mother was an Edge woman of ill repute.’ And the man said that he questioned the wisdom of associating with a woman who brought two mongrel children with her and that there must be something really valuable in the services she performs in the bedroom for Declan to keep her around. And then I said . . .”

His voice snapped into a deep, ragged growl. The fury broke and took him off his chair. He knew his eyes were glowing, and he didn’t care. “And I said that the Edgers take care of themselves and don’t come to other people’s houses looking for handouts and insulting people who’re feeding them, like fat ticks leeching off their hosts and complaining that the blood they’re stealing doesn’t taste right. I said, you think my sister is an Edge whore? Then don’t come here to eat her food.”

“Oh, Jack,” Cerise whispered.

“And then everyone was shocked.” Jack paced up and down, snarling. The hair on his arms was standing on end. He remembered the man’s scent, vivid and sharp, his face, his voice. “I wanted to kill him. They should’ve let me kill him! I would snap his neck with my teeth!”

“What happened next?” Cerise asked.

“Declan got this crazy look, and he said, ‘Either the boy is lying, which he never does, or you’ve insulted my wife.’ The man said, ‘At our house, we chain our animals before the arrival of guests. Perhaps you should do the same.’ Then Declan said, ‘Leave or I will throw you out.’ The man said, ‘Is that a threat?’ And Declan said, ‘Would you like it to be?’ The man said, ‘If you insist,’ and put his hand on his sword. And then Rose did her flash. It was shooting around her in spirals like white lightning, and her eyes were glowing with white, and she said, ‘This is over! Leave before I slice you and your family into ribbons.’”

Jack kept pacing. “And then the banquet was over, and I had to go to Declan’s office. He was really mad. I said, ‘I was defending my family! He was a bad guy.’ Declan said that he knew the guy was bad. I asked him why he invited him, and Declan said that he wanted to see who was friendly with this guy, so Declan could learn who his enemies are, and that I pretty much stabbed that plan through the heart. He said that he didn’t expect me to be perfect, but we can’t keep having these catastrophes every time I show my face in public. He said it’s causing problems between him and Rose, and he doesn’t want those kinds of problems, so we couldn’t keep going on like this, and something had to change. He also said that I needed more supervision and that I left him no choice. And then he told me I could go.”

Jack took a deep breath. “I know what this means. He doesn’t have to spell it out. He’s sending me to Hawk’s! For supervision!”

“Sit down!” William barked, his eyes glowing with green.

Jack landed on the floor and shut up.

“The animal thing inside you, the Wild. Has it ever taken over?”

Jack shook his head.

“You ever see red?”

Jack nodded.

William glanced at Cerise. “He needs to rend and soon, and we don’t have time. The first time is always the hardest.” He turned back to Jack. “Listen to me. We have a thing inside us, the Wild. The Wild sleeps in a den deep in you. When you get angry, or worried, or excited, the Wild wakes up, and if you let it, it will break out. When the Wild takes over, you forget that there are rules. If it ever happens, you will kill in a frenzy, and you won’t stop until you’re dead or exhausted. It will take you to a place without gods. This is called rending. We all do this from time to time. There is the right way to rend and the wrong way. Rending in the middle of dinner filled with civilians is the wrong way. Do you understand?”

Jack nodded. “Yes.”

“You must keep the Wild in check until you and I can find a way to release it safely.”

“How?” Jack asked.

“I told you, the Wild sleeps in its den. When you see red, it’s about to escape. That’s when you push it back into its den and make it stay there. If the red ever goes black, you’re gone. Don’t let it drag you under, Jack. You get me?”

Jack nodded again.

“Next, Declan won’t send you to Hawk’s. That’s not the kind of man he is. Even if he did, they probably wouldn’t take you. You’re too old. You wouldn’t survive—they would have to crush your spirit completely, which would make you a lousy soldier and useless to them.”

Yeah, yeah. They would take him if Declan asked, but now didn’t seem like the best time to mention that.

“But the Camarine Castle might not be the best place for you for the next few years, no matter how much Declan and Rose love you. Their house is the house of the Marshal. Cerise and I are leaving tomorrow morning. We have a mission for the Mirror. When we come back, I’ll speak to Declan about it.”

The full enormity of the statement crashed on Jack. William was leaving. There would be no help. “Where are you going?” Jack asked in a small voice.

“You know I can’t tell you where or how long we’ll be gone.” William leaned forward.

A weak hope flared in Jack’s mind. “Can you talk to Declan tonight?”

“No. It’s a long and complicated conversation.”

The hope died. A mission for the Mirror could take a week or a month or half a year. He needed help now.

“So what am I supposed to do?” Jack asked. His voice sounded defeated even to him.

“Keep your head down, and don’t do anything stupid,” William said. “Stay out of trouble until I come back.”

“Not going to happen,” Jack said. He couldn’t stay out of trouble because he had no idea where normal ended and trouble began. “I can’t do that. I don’t know how.”

“Yes, you can,” Cerise told him.

A faint noise tugged on Jack, the dull hum coming from above. William rose and walked out of the kitchen. Jack followed. Outside, the hum grew louder. Jack squinted at the sky. A small dot darkened the clear blue, growing in size.

Cerise stepped out behind them. “A wyvern.”

“Mhhhm. Air Force.” William growled under his breath, and he and Cerise strode across the inner yard to the gate. Jack trailed after them. They passed through the dark gateway and out into the light again.

The wyvern dropped lower, a huge, scaled creature with massive leathery wings that spread so wide, their shadow covered the entire clearing. Its two muscled legs were bent close to its scaled belly, pale purple, like the sky at dusk. The beast circled the house, tilting as it turned, and Jack caught a glimpse of green scales on its back and the tightly woven wicker shelter of the cabin. The air had a dry, bitter wyvern scent. It made Jack’s nostrils itch, and he sneezed.

The wyvern banked, flew over their heads, and landed in the wide field in front of the house, its wings spread, its two legs digging into the soft soil. It shifted in place, settling down, spread its wings, dipping them down to rest on the grass, and lowered its head to the ground. The door of the cabin swung open. A dark-haired man emerged and slid down the wyvern’s side to the ground, like it was a playground slide. The wyvern stirred, sending a gust of air their way, and Jack caught a familiar scent. “Kaldar.”

William growled under his breath, looking as if he had bitten something sour.

“Cousin!” Cerise waved. “Long time no see!”

Lean and light on his feet, Kaldar landed in the grass and strode to them with a big smile on his face. He wore jeans and a blue T-shirt that said WORLD’S BEST UNCLE on it in black letters written in the Broken’s English.

Kaldar was Cerise’s cousin. The last time they had met, Jack and Lark were still friends, and she told him to watch Kaldar at dinner. While people ate and mingled, Kaldar stole things from their pockets, then put them back.

“Hello, hello!” Kaldar grinned wider, showing white teeth. Cerise hugged him; he laughed and held his hand out to William. William unclenched his teeth and clapped Kaldar’s hand and made some sort of quiet snarl that could’ve been hello or could’ve been I’ll kill you, Jack wasn’t sure.

Kaldar pumped William’s hand and turned to him, palm out. “Jack!”

Jack took his hand and gave it a squeeze.

Kaldar’s eyebrows crept up. “Easy now. Don’t break my fingers.”

Jack hid a smile. Heh-heh.

“I’ve come to beg for help,” Kaldar said. “Professional, not personal.”

“What is it?” Cerise asked.

“I’m tracking the theft of an item for the Mirror. The trail led into the Edge, so I ran some evidence I had by a buddy of mine in Baton Rouge PD.”

“Did sirens and blue lights go off when you walked into the police station?” Cerise asked.

“Very funny.” Kaldar grimaced. “I had a fingerprint I lifted from a crime scene in Adrianglia. He ran it through the database. One of the thieves popped up. He is in California in a drug rehab facility.” Kaldar grimaced again. “To get to him, I have to fly to the Democracy of California on the Weird’s side. You know what it’s like. I need backup.”

William showed Kaldar his teeth. “Not happening. We’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Business?” Kaldar asked.

William nodded.

Kaldar sighed.

“You could request assistance from the field office,” Cerise said.

“And work with a stranger? Please.” Kaldar frowned. His eyes lit up. “Wait. Give me the boy.”

“He’s twelve!” Cerise reached over and gently popped Kaldar on the back of the head.

“Not Jack. Gaston.”

Jack bared his teeth. He liked Gaston about as well as William liked Kaldar. Gaston was William’s ward and Cerise’s nephew or cousin or something. He was bigger, stronger, older, and he wasn’t all human, either.

William shrugged. “He isn’t a full agent.”

“He’s been trained by the Mirror for three years, he’s nineteen, and he can lift a cow. I am not exaggerating. I’ve seen him do it. Let me take him.”

“I’ll think about it,” William said.

“Why is everything so difficult with you?” Kaldar raised his left eyebrow.

“I’m responsible for him,” William growled.

Kaldar’s face turned serious. It was like someone had jerked the funny mask off his face. “William, I was there when he was born. I changed his diapers. Do you honestly think I’d let any harm come to him?”

“Let me think . . .” William leaned forward. “Yes!”

“That’s ridiculous. I just need an extra pair of eyes and ears. Consider it his final exam, Professor. I can look after him much better than you.”

William took a step toward Kaldar. His eyes got a predatory glint.

“All right!” Cerise declared. “Why don’t we go to the house and have some delicious rabbit before I pull out my sword and have to separate you two.”

She put her hands on the arms of both men and pushed them toward the house. “Come on, Jack.”

There was nothing to do but follow.

JACK trotted down the path toward the woods, away from William’s house. His belly was full of hare. It should’ve made him happy, but it didn’t.

The wind brought a familiar scent of lemon. Jack stopped at a large oak and leaned against it, his back to the bark. Above him, branches rustled. A moment later, George climbed down, holding a small spyglass in his hand. He wore a white shirt, a pale brown vest, brown pants, and dark brown boots. A short rapier hung from his waist. His hair was pale blond and cut longish. His eyes were big and blue, and he looked like a girl.

“How did you know where I was?” George asked.

“You put lemon juice in your hair again.”

“The juice makes it lighter.” George leaned against the maple to Jack’s left. “How did it go?”

“William and Cerise are leaving tomorrow,” Jack said. “Mirror mission, and he doesn’t know when he’s coming back. William said he’ll talk to Declan when he comes back. He says to stay out of trouble until he comes back.”

“Not going to happen,” George said.

“Yeah.”

“So what are we going to do?” George asked.

“I can’t stay at the house. I’ll do something or say something, and they’ll ship me off. With William away, nobody will tell them no.”

“Rose wouldn’t do that,” George said.

Jack glanced at him. “She’s mad, George. Really mad. I’m going to get my bag tonight and go into the woods. I’ll wait it out until William comes back.”

“Jack, you have to think ahead.” George shook his head. “What happens if you disappear?”

Jack shrugged. He would be in the woods, that’s what would happen.

“Declan and Rose will think that you ran away. They’ll search for you. They won’t find you, because you’re good at hiding, so more people will get involved. Rumors will spread: Lord Camarine, the Marshal of the Southern Provinces, has lost his changeling brother-in-law. Obviously, he can’t control him, because the beast took off into the wild. Lock your children, or he’ll break into your house and devour them at night. Maybe we should hunt him down with torches.” George shook his head again. “They will send you to Hawk’s after that for sure. No, we need an actual plan.”

“Well, I don’t have one,” Jack growled.

George peered through the trees. “You said William and Cerise are leaving tomorrow. Who does the wyvern belong to? I got stuck at fencing, and when I made it here, the wyvern had landed already.”

“Kaldar. He has a mission in the Democracy of California. He came to ask them for help, but they’re leaving on their own thing tomorrow, so he’s taking Gaston with him instead.”

George thought about it. “When?”

“Tomorrow evening. He has to give the wyvern time to rest before the long trip.” What did that have anything to do with it?

“That’s a large cabin,” George said.

“So?”

“If they’re flying to California, they’ll pack it full of supplies, right?”

Jack looked at the wyvern. It was a large cabin. Large enough to hide in, especially if it was packed with crates and bags.

“Let me talk to Gaston. We can’t pull it off without him. If it goes well, we pack tonight,” George said. “We’ll tell Declan and Rose we have an overnight camp for school. By the time they realize we’re gone, we’ll be in California.”

“Gaston won’t help,” Jack said.

“Let me worry about that.”

Jack stared at his brother. “If we go, it will be the same thing as if I ran away. The search and the torches.”

“We’ll tell Lark where we’re going, and she will tell Declan and Rose when the time comes. They won’t be happy, but Kaldar is on a Mirror mission, and Declan and Rose won’t jeopardize it. Besides, it’s clear across the continent. Did you see the pile of stuff on Declan’s desk? It’s not like he can just take off and leave the Southern Provinces to be overrun by criminals. Lark will tell them that Kaldar will take care of us.” George smiled. “There will be hell to pay when we get home, but they can’t send you off while you are in California. This will work.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“We’ll think of something else. Now we have to go home and quietly pack. Tomorrow, we have to go to school, like normal, and be very well behaved.”

They started down the forest path.

George’s leather boots creaked as he walked. He needed to oil them or something, Jack reflected.

If George came with him, they would both be in trouble.

“You don’t have to do this,” Jack said. “I can do this by myself.”

“You remember when you beat up Thad Mosser?”

Thad was a mean Edger kid. He had it in for George, but it was years ago, back when they lived in the Edge. Besides, it only took one fight and some stitches to get it settled. “Yeah.”

“We leave tomorrow evening,” George said.

They didn’t talk any more until they got home.

THE cabin was cramped. Jack stirred in his small space, squished between the wall of the cabin and the wall of wicker trunks Gaston had stuffed into the cabin. Across from him, George leaned against the cabin wall. His eyes were closed.

They had been flying for most of the night. At first, Kaldar and Gaston talked. Something about some thieves from the Edge stealing a magic thing from West Egypt and trying to sell it to the Hand. Things didn’t go well because they broke a fountain, and one of the Hand’s people had been blown to bits. Kaldar had found something called a crack pipe, whatever the hell that might be, and taken it to the cops in the Broken. They found a fingerprint on the pipe, and it belonged to someone named Alex Callahan, who was checked into a “rehab” in the Broken’s California.

“How much did that nugget of information cost you?” Gaston had asked.

“A few trinkets from the Weird,” Kaldar had told him. “Turns out our boy has a rap sheet a mile long. The State of Louisiana got him for possession and burglary. He also earned a couple of warrants in Florida: theft and possession with intent to distribute. And his rickety 1990 Nissan Sentra was involved in a high-speed chase and somehow gave the cop cars the slip.”

“That tells me nothing,” Gaston had said.

“He outran a racehorse on a donkey.”

“You think he went into the Edge?”

“He had to,” Kaldar had said. “The high-speed chase netted him another heap of charges. Then he popped up in Alabama and Tennessee, theft and possession again, and right now his fingerprints show him checked into the Rose Cliff in northern California. The Rose Cliff is where you put your addict relatives when you have money.”

“This guy seems mostly small-time,” Gaston said.

“ ‘Seems’ is the key word here. We only know about the things he got caught on, and on each one, he was so addled, it’s a wonder he could find the ground with both feet. You and I were both Edgers once. You know how they operate.”

“Family,” Gaston agreed. “Somewhere in the Edge, someone knows him.”

“Exactly. And that someone suddenly got a lot of money and checked Alex into rehab. Most Edgers don’t have forty grand lying on the shelf somewhere.”

Gaston whistled. “That’s serious money.”

“One has to wonder how Alex’s family came by it. If I had time, I would knock on some doors in the Edge around Macon where he first blazed a trail, but we don’t have that luxury. We know where he is, so we go to him and we ask him how his crack pipe ended up in the town square in the Weird next to the bits and pieces of the Hand’s agent.”

None of it made a lot of sense, and now everyone was quiet.

Jack fidgeted. It would’ve been much cooler to sit up front, where he could see the sky and the clouds and the ground far below. The heat rising from the wyvern’s back and the blankets Gaston had given them kept the cabin warm, but it wasn’t exactly toasty. He fidgeted again. Bored. Bored, bored, bored. He’d slept, he’d read through the book he’d packed in his bag—it was all about the Weird’s nobles on the Old Continent fighting against the ancient raiders. The book was okay, and the hero got to cut the bad guy’s head off at the end, which was fine.

They had stopped a few times, and Gaston snuck them out to relieve themselves, but that was hours ago.

Jack stretched his legs, bumping his brother. George opened his eyes, and mouthed, “Stop it.”

“You stop it,” Jack mouthed back.

George raised his arm and pretended to scratch his armpit. “Ape.”

Jack kicked him. George kicked back, and his heel landed on Jack’s thigh. So that’s how it is? Fine. Jack lunged across the space and grabbed George by his arm. George elbowed him in the gut. Jack rammed his fist into his brother’s side.

“Did you hear that?” Kaldar asked.

“I’ll check on it.”

George sank a fist into Jack’s ear. Pain exploded in his head. Ow. Jack punched him in the ribs.

A huge fist landed on his head. The world got fuzzy for a second, and Jack went down. Half a second later, George sprawled next to him, clutching the back of his head. “Nothing, just some crates shifting,” Gaston called out.

Jack pointed to the front of the cabin and put his fist into his palm. George nodded. When they got out of here, Gaston would be in for a treat.

“How long till we land?” Gaston asked up front.

“A couple of hours. Almost there,” Kaldar said.

“So what’s the plan?”

“The plan is for me to visit Mr. Alex Callahan and ask him some questions.”

“Do you think he’ll answer?”

“Not without some persuasion,” Kaldar said. “As it happens, persuasion is my specialty.”

“I take it I’ll be staying with the wyvern?”

Kaldar laughed. “Unless you want to panic the entire city of Red Grove with your serrated teeth.”

“Are you sure? One look at me, and Alex will spill his life story. If that fails, I could always be convincing.”

“By breaking one of his limbs?”

“If necessary.”

“It may come to that.”

“Is something bothering you, Uncle?” Gaston asked.

“This guy. Alex Callahan. He’s a junkie. A rap sheet a mile long, all of it with drug charges over the last six years.”

“Aha.”

“The Pyramid of Ptah is a tough nut to crack even for the best picklock. These guys walked in and out. Popped fourteen locks in record time. It would take me days.”

“You’re thinking magic?” Gaston asked.

“Probably. That means if Alex is the picker, he would’ve never done the job.”

“How do you figure?”

“Anytime he wants a hit, he can break into anything in the Edge or in the Weird, sell it, and get high. If this lock-picking talent is magic, then it only works in the Edge and the Weird. So why does Alex Callahan have a trophy wall of theft charges in the Broken? Why steal where you’re at a disadvantage?”

“Maybe he’s stupid.”

“Junkies are clever; they have to be to keep the addiction going, and long-term junkies are too far gone to plan ahead. They’re only thinking of the next high. An addict will steal anything, and he will sell it to you for twenty bucks. That’s the going price of a meth hit. No matter what the item is, the fence will offer the addict twenty bucks for it, and the addict will take it. To them a five-hundred-dollar DVD player for one hit is a fair trade because they have no use for the player. The Pyramid of Ptah is a risky and complicated job. The chances of getting caught are high, and to top it all off, whoever took the item sold it to the Hand. Callahan wouldn’t have done the job by himself, and even if he had, he would’ve unloaded the item at the first fence along the way. No, Alex might have been there, but he wasn’t the picklock. Someone else set this job up.”

“Well, we’ll find out in a couple of hours, right?”

“Right. Whoever this picklock is, I can’t wait to meet him.”

Gaston laughed. “Remember, you work for the Mirror, Uncle.”

“I remember. Still, the possibilities are intriguing. I’m sure this guy and I could come to an understanding.”

The voices fell silent.

Jack stirred in his small space, sighed, and curled up. Two hours. He could sleep for two hours.

IT was more like three hours before the wyvern dipped down and another fifteen minutes or so before they landed. Jack sat quietly while Kaldar got out, changed clothes, and gave some final instructions to Gaston. Finally, a thump resonated through the cabin as Gaston’s fist pounded on the wood and wicker. “Up, ladies. He’s gone. I’m going to get some water and mix catalyst feed for the wyvern. Piss, stretch your legs, do whatever you need to do. And stay the hell away from the boundary. We’re really close.”

Jack looked at George. They were close to the boundary. They hadn’t been in the Broken for almost three years, not since the last time they went to visit Grandma, and they hadn’t been in California ever.

The light of the early morning glowed ahead, sifting through the front windshield of the cabin. Jack leaped over the crate, pushed the wicker door open, and stopped. A few steps ahead, the ground plunged down in a sheer cliff, and beyond it, a vast ocean spread to the horizon, blue and pale silver. A wind gust shot from under the cliff and hit him in the face. A thousand scents exploded all around Jack: the smell of pine resin and eucalyptus; the fragrance of small blue flowers, hiding between the crags; the distant stench of seagulls screaming overhead; salt; wet sand; ocean water, clean and slightly bitter; seaweed; and, as an afterthought, a faint aroma of smoked fish flavoring the breeze.

For a second, Jack couldn’t process it all, then he jumped, arms open wide like wings, and dashed down the near-vertical slope to the waves below.