The Dark Hills Divide Part 17

"Keeping them locked up for now would be a good idea," I replied, wiping away a milk mustache with the back of my hand. "It's hard to explain, but they could cause us trouble if you release them. Maybe once everything settles down I'll tell you more, but I can't right now."

Grayson nodded his approval and jammed a big spoonful of slimy-looking oatmeal into his mouth, then he handed me the knife and looked down at his bowl, rolling his spoon around in its soupy contents.

"You know, he had no name," said Grayson. "Who?"

"Yipes. He had no name when I met him. His parents, whoever they might be, left him in the streets. He told me he lived in the Ainsworth Orphanage for a while, but they never bothered to name him. He was nothing 215.

more than a number in that hideous place, and a small number at that."

"It's a very strange name he decided on," I said.

"That it is," said Grayson through a mouthful of food. "But I'm partial to it, since I helped him pick it out."

As Grayson remembered it, the two of them had been stacking books on a frosty winter day in the library when Grayson came upon a very old volume that was broken and cracking at the seams. He took it to his office and began restoring it while Yipes watched from his perch on the desk. When he finished with his mending, Grayson flopped the book open and began turning the pages to inspect the repaired joint. They came upon a particular page and Yipes exclaimed, "Read that one to me," for though he was good at putting away books, he could not read them when he arrived in Bridewell.

The book itself was filled with mythical creatures and beasts, pure fantasy from cover to cover. Some pages included pen drawings of monsters and strange beings from even stranger places. The page that Grayson had landed on included a picture of a bizarre creature small, and apparently half monkey, half man. As Grayson read, it became clear that this thing they had stumbled upon had, oddly enough, many qualities in common with our little friend. The creature was undersized and could climb and jump with amazing agility. It did not 216.

trust humans and remained hidden whenever men were about.

"Those odd, mythical creatures in the book were called 'Yipes.' As soon as I finished reading that section, we both agreed it was the perfect name for him."

Grayson observed his bowl with a blank stare. The story had brought a rush of memories back.

"He's doing well, Grayson," I offered. "Life outside is what he told you it would be, only better."

Grayson raised his head and looked at me with deep appreciation. Our conversation had renewed his strength in ways that food could not, and we were both ready to get back to work.

We left the kitchen together and walked through the center of town, which bustled with activity in every direction. The men and women looked tired and beaten. The work was steady but slow. Even Pervis barely stood, leaning against a wall, as he shouted orders. I approached him cautiously and asked how things were going.

"Not well, Alexa," he said. "We underestimated the work this would take. At the rate we're going, we'll never finish by midnight. Ganesh and your father talked it over, and they gave me orders an hour ago. I've sent Silas to quietly round up more men in Lathbury, and Nicolas is doing the same in Lunenburg. Another guard is trying the same in Turlock. Still, it's doubtful they will return in time to bring reinforcements." Neither of us voiced the obvious concerns about the risks of sending them off on 217.

their own; we just looked at each other and shrugged, hoping for the best.

Grayson grabbed hold of two shovels and handed one to me. "Time to make some blisters," he said, and the rest of the evening was lost in a haze of sweat and dust.

Hours later, with midnight approaching Bridewell, a heavy wind was whipping through the courtyard, stinging tired eyes and clogging heaving lungs with thick dust. Despite the conditions and fatigue, the people who had worked around the clock continued with an inhuman stamina.

"Storm's coming," I observed. Grayson rose from his work and stood beside me, leaning hard against the wall as the wind parted his meager head of hair. We saw Pervis coming from the direction of Renny Lodge. He approached us slowly, shirt flapping uncontrollably at his sides, the wind directly in his face in great gusts.

"We'll make it by midnight. Just finishing things up now," he yelled through the wind. He looked beaten but alert, alternately watching the guards at the near tower and the work on the ground.

An hour short of midnight, we finished the work. No streetlamps were fired; only a blush of soft moonlight remained on the town square. Families hunkered down in their homes as tired men milled around the completed work with antic.i.p.ation. The kitchen staff prepared kettles of soup and fresh loaves of bread, and people formed a line outside Renny Lodge. At the door they took a bowl 218.

and a spoon, then my father poured the soup and handed each person a small loaf of bread. Inside, tables were set in the smoking room, and a great fire raged in the fire place.

There was a strange aura that hung over the room as we sat elbow to elbow sipping from our bowls, listening to the wind buffet the shutters that had been closed over the windows. It was a harrowing sound, as though the convicts were pounding to get in and tear the place apart. A few sips into our late dinner all the townspeople went back outside clutching lumps of bread, too skittish to sit inside making chitchat over bowls of broth.

Only Father and I remained.

"You've been working hard," Father said.

"I don't mind," I replied.

"I think it's time for you to go, Alexa. I want you sealed up tight in your room, door locked, until this thing is over. No more running around," he said. The thought of what was coming scared me and I was happy to obey his request. We hugged, and then I retreated to my room and locked the door behind me.

219.

CHAPTER 24.

THE PAPER STORM.

It was ten minutes to midnight when I arrived at my open window, door locked behind me, a thick wind tossing my hair. I hadn't been paying any attention, but clouds were rolling in. Storm clouds. Within a few moments, the moon was gone, and the unlit town of Bridewell below was as black as The Dark Hills had ever been. I could not differentiate between the inside and the outside of the wall, and for a brief moment it seemed as though the wall itself were a myth, and Bridewell was open, sprawling into the hills uncontained. But the clouds continued to move, and part of the moon cast its revealing light against the ivy-covered wall. As quickly as the wall had disappeared, it was back in all its awful glory.

I was holding Warvold's favorite old book, Myths and Legends in the Land of Elyon, the one I'd gotten from Grayson. After my visit outside the wall, its t.i.tle was newly intriguing. I had never thought of our land as Elyon's land. Elyon was just what we called it, nothing more. Flipping through its ragged pages was somehow comforting, and I began to think about having Grayson repair it so it would stop falling to pieces every time I picked it up. While I was lost in my thoughts, the clouds once again moved over the moon, and the blackness of 220.

the unlit night returned. Gusts of wind continued to blow; the first drops of rain pelted my hands on the sill, and I closed the book to protect it.

"Alexa!"

I jumped back from the window, lost my balance, and fell to the floor, all the while clutching the precious old book.

"Well, I guess that's one for me." It was Murphy climbing through the open window. His presence was a bad sign.

"Why are you here, Murphy? I need you to stay on the lookout," I said, getting back on my feet.

"That's just it, Alexa. I left an hour ago to check in with Yipes, and when I returned, it had been opened."

"Are you absolutely sure?" I asked. It appeared that my fears had come to pa.s.s.

"I'm positive. The chair was put back, but I marked the footings on the floor, and they no longer match up." Murphy was staring at me wide-eyed. "Either someone's got in through the secret door or someone's got out. I can't be sure which."

A gust of wind slammed through the window and racked the shutters back and forth against the wall. Wind rushed into the room and blew Warvold's book clean out of my hand, bursting the spine loose anew and blowing pages all over the room.

"Oh no!" I cried. Some of the pages were sucked out the window as the wind changed directions; the rest were 221.

flying around the room in a blizzard of paper. I ran to the window and grabbed the shutters to close them. The rain was coming harder now and the handles on the shutters were slick. I saw pages from Warvold's book dancing on the wind outside. One was caught in the ivy clutches of the wall, another was stuck to the wet sill, and still another fluttered over the divide and out into the dark night beyond my sight. I grabbed the page stuck to the sill and threw it behind me, then secured the shutters and turned to face the room.

It was worse than I thought possible. Pages were everywhere, and Murphy was dragging an empty spine across the floor by his teeth for my inspection. The book was forever destroyed.

"This is terrible, Murphy. We'll never get it back together, no matter how hard we try."

He dropped the spine on my feet and looked up at me.

"I'm sorry," he said.

I sat down with my back against the wall, and Murphy hopped up on my lap. I picked up what was left of the book and opened it up. Not a single page remained. The spine was not only empty of pages, but torn at the st.i.tching on the inside cover, revealing the inner board beneath the fabric. It had always been this way, at least ever since the book came into my possession. But with the pages gone the fault was more obvious and accessible. I ran my fingers along the edge absently. Then I tucked 221.

-A.

222.

my finger under the fabric and felt along the board. It was a mindless gesture, and when I felt a ridge where one should not have been, I ignored it. Then I realized the ridge felt more like paper than board or fabric, and I looked closely at the broken cover. Something was inside. Something secret.

I looked at Murphy with astonishment, then ripped the fabric off the cover and revealed a folded piece of paper. I set the mangled book aside and unfolded the treasure, my hands trembling with antic.i.p.ation. It was one page, torn from Warvold's journal. The date and time of the entry indicated the night of his arrival in Bridewell for the summer meetings, probably between dinner and the stroll with me from which he never returned.

As the shutters buckled back and forth in opposition to the wind, I read the entry aloud to Murphy.

I have wondered ever since Renny was taken from me if Sebastian is real. My arrival back in Bridewell makes me wonder more than ever. Were Renny's suspicions imagined? "He's not quite right," she would say upon our arrival. And who is this Sebastian anyway? Is he anything more than a mere legend heard in whispers? To tell the rest of them I must be utterly sure.

Grayson -- I'm getting old and mischief follows me everywhere. If I am dead when you go to repair my favorite book (I know you won't be 223.

able to help yourself), you'll surely find this note. If events surrounding my death seem suspicious, read page 194. Otherwise, burn the book immediately and go about your day in peace.

"Why did Grayson have to give me the book? For all we know, page 194 is flying around outside somewhere!" I yelled. Murphy scrambled off my lap and began sifting through pages on the floor while I checked the ones that had landed on my bed. Five minutes into our search we were still looking, and all the pages in sight were piled in a heap in the corner of the room. It seemed likely that one of the pages outside, probably the one long gone over the wall, was the page we were looking for.

"Alexa!" came a m.u.f.fled cry from under my bed, and a moment later Murphy came out, pushing page 194 along the floor with his nose. I reached down and picked it up.

A moment later, with water pooling on my windowsill and dripping into the room, we huddled together in the corner near the pages we had piled up and I read page 194 aloud to Murphy.

Immediately, we knew who Sebastian was, and Murphy said what we were both thinking: "We have to catch him."

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CHAPTER 25.

A TIGHT SPOT.

I unlocked my door and ran down the hall with Murphy close behind. When we arrived at the landing on the second floor, I stopped and gazed out the window toward the center of town where a shard of moonlight cut through the night. The rain began coming down in sheets, and the moon disappeared again behind ominous clouds, this time for the duration of the storm. I lost sight Of the town square.

I would need a weapon, so I went to the smoking room and took the iron poker from where it stood next to the great fireplace. Then I motioned Murphy in the direction of the library. On the way out of the smoking room I picked up a lamp from the table, lit it, and trimmed it so the flame was low.

We pa.s.sed through the kitchen, went up the creaking steps, and stood at the landing in front of the library doors. As I suspected, the doors had been locked from the inside, and the bookcase remained firmly backed against the wall in front of the cat door.

"I wonder if Sam and Pepper are still in there, watching for intruders," I said.

"If they are, then they're hiding," Murphy replied. He hadn't seen them while he watched for activity in the 225.

library. We began to wonder if they might have jumped out the open window by the chair, but it was a long way down. Murphy could hold on and descend a twenty-foot wall, but the cats would have to free-fall to the ground. No cat would willingly leap out a window that high.

The sound of thunderclaps and driving rain magnified the sinister darkness of Renny Lodge. I crouched down by the cat door and swung it toward me into the hall, inspecting the weight and size of the bookcase blocking the way. Already, there was almost enough room for Murphy to squeeze through, so I turned and put my foot through the small door against the bookcase. I pushed, just a little at first, then as hard as I could, but it would not budge. I held the door open with my hand, pulled my foot back, and waited for the next thunderclap. When it came, I thrust the flat of my heel into the bookcase. This produced a shooting pain up my leg, and the shelf remained in the exact same spot.

We sat motionless for a moment, and then without warning, Murphy moved quickly past my foot and sideways through the little door. He struggled mightily to squeeze into the small s.p.a.ce as I spun around to where I could see.

He spoke in a m.u.f.fled whisper I could hardly understand.

"Awfully tight in here. Can you push me through?"

I put my hand next to his furry side and started pushing. The wood against the back of the bookcase was slick, 226.

and his fur was soft, but the stone wall was rough. The coa.r.s.eness of the wall combined with the slippery fur and wood made him twist as he went. I pushed; Murphy spun, alternately facing the stone wall, the exit, the bookcase, and me. It was hard not to laugh as I imagined his poor little face squashed against the wall, nose all flattened out, followed by a dazed look as he rotated free in my direction. I moved him as far as I could, but when my elbow reached the edge of the cat door, I could push no further, and Murphy had yet to reach the edge of the bookshelf.

He was stuck.

"Alexa?" he whispered.

"Yes?" I answered, the subtle beginnings of hysteria in my voice.

"Cat," he said.

And then I heard Sam's menacing laugh fill the library.

"How sad for you, Murphy stuck in such an uncompromising position. And no one to save you," said Sam.

The time for quiet deliberation had pa.s.sed, and I threw my body full force into the library door over and over again trying to get in.

"It's no use, Alexa. He's finished, Bridewell is finished, and Sebastian has escaped undiscovered and unharmed. You have failed at every turn." This time it was Pepper, standing behind the door, taunting me.

227.

I spun the fire poker in my hand and examined it, thinking of all that had gone wrong, and believing for a moment that I was defeated.

The cats were inspecting the bookcase, enjoying their little moment, continuing to taunt and jab as they decided who would rip into Murphy's flesh with a bare claw and yank him out.

"I think you should do the honors," joked Sam.

For no particular reason, I leaned against the library door, and continued examining the fire poker. It was a solid metal device with a sharp tip.

"I almost wish I could let you in, Alexa. This is going to be quite a sight to behold," said Pepper.

I quietly moved to the cat door and opened it. "Enough of this. Get him out," said Sam.

I jammed the fire poker under the bookcase as hard as I could, and I lifted the handle up off the floor with all my strength. The bookcase tilted out slowly, then faster, then it was crashing into another shelf in front of it, spraying books everywhere. I could hear shelves falling like dominoes out into the library, pounding the floor with books.

When all the shelves in the row had been toppled, I waited to hear the cats going after Murphy, but all I heard were random books slipping off tipped shelves and popping on the floor like giant raindrops at the end of a storm.

Then I heard a magical sound. The lock on the library 228.