Page 26 of Red in Tooth and Claw

Chapter Twenty-six

I can’t say we moved any quieter or faster to the girls’ bunkhouse because we’d already been moving with the stealth of house mice, but we plowed onward with more purpose now, our imaginations conjuring the most terrible of evil spirits.

Chirp stayed close to my side, bumping against me as we continued on. Tallis reached out and took my hand. I clasped it back, like it was an anchor. As if I’d been doing it my whole life.

The door to the girls’ bunkhouse was in ruins.

“No beast did this.” Will was eyeing it critically. “There are claw marks. But no cat, even your cave cat there, could manage this destruction.” He pointed to some of the deeper grooves. “Someone took an ax to this door.”

My heart was lodged in my gullet as we stepped over the threshold. Tallis and I bypassed Miss Moon’s closed door and moved swiftly into the main room, while Will splintered off, whispering her name, his movements frantic.

The room was nothing like the boys’ bunkhouse. It was like whatever was driving the attackers, whatever rage had guided their hands, had been expended at the door.

No blood.

The only thing torn up was a little rag doll.

For reasons I couldn’t explain, the girls’ bunkhouse was more chilling than the boys’. Perhaps because we’d expected blood and in contrast we found this empty room, and that dropped dismembered doll felt eerie. Prophetic.

And it made me wonder. “Which room was first, you think?”

Tallis turned troubled eyes on me. “I don’t know.”

Will rejoined us, toeing the doll’s remnants with his boot. “Could be this room was first, and when they found it empty, they turned the fury on the boys’ bunkhouse.” He turned solemn eyes on me. “Esther isn’t here.”

“Or it could be that, by the time it made it through the door, the creature discovered it was already full and took them elsewhere.” Tallis reached out, touching one of the crisply made beds.

Will propped his hands on his hips, his chin on his chest. “I don’t want to think that.”

I was still staring at that crisp bed. “I want to see Miss Moon’s room.”

“She’s not there,” Will said, a catch in his voice.

Miss Moon’s delicate, feminine room broke my heart. It had been desecrated. The small luxuries, the tiny fripperies that she’d allowed herself, which had helped me really see that big-hearted part of her, were gone. Her vase broken, the flower petals scattered across the floor. Her stitchwork in tatters. Her quilt torn and, like Jesse’s bunk, befouled, the stench muted by the scent of Miss Moon’s lavender water that had been dumped onto the floorboards.

She’d allowed herself so few soft things, and now they were gone.

But there was no blood, and for that I was grateful.

We avoided the barn—if the animals were still alive, we didn’t want them to make noise and draw attention. If they weren’t alive, we couldn’t help them, and I didn’t want to face a repeat of the goat pen. I didn’t want to see those silly chickens reduced to feathers and bones, despite my love of one in the stewpot. That was for survival. A body needed to eat. What we’d seen so far was carnage, and that was something entirely different.

So we passed the barn, heading for the back door of the kitchen. It was on our way there that we finally discovered what had happened to the guards that had been on the palisades tonight. Davens and Harris were several yards apart, sprawled on the ground in inelegant heaps. They reminded me of eggs I’d once dropped onto the floor of our old kitchen, causing Pops to toss sharp words at me about taking more care with delicate things.

I’d never considered Davens or Harris delicate. Quite the opposite. Seeing them like this, you saw how easily breakable even large men could be.

Will nudged Davens onto his back with his boot. His throat had been torn out, his chest mauled. His once-white shirt was black in the moonlight from blood. I hadn’t particularly liked Davens, and I’d actively disliked Harris, but I felt no satisfaction in their violent deaths.

We left them there for now, as there was nothing to be done.

Will let us into the kitchen. Though there was no damage, someone had been through here. I could see part of a bloody handprint on the cook’s table, like someone had paused there to steady themselves.

“Miss Lita’s going to have someone’s hide when she sees what they did to her table,” Will said, staring at the bloody handprint.

Without a word, we moved on to the dining room, where we realized that Miss Lita wasn’t going to have anyone’s hide ever again. There was an ax in her back, her eyes wide and staring in death, her mouth open.

Tallis stepped forward and closed her eyes, murmuring soft words only she could hear. He stood then, taking a moment to free the ax from where it was buried in her back. I winced at the sounds it made, and I had to look away until he was done. I agreed he should take it—not only might it do us good, but I didn’t want to leave a weapon behind us where anyone could grab it.

I made a silent promise to Miss Lita that we would come back and do right by her—if we were still upright and breathing when the night was done.

Right now I didn’t have a whole lot of faith in that.

Tallis handed me the ax. I blinked at him. “Don’t you want it?”

He shook his head. “I have a good knife, Little Fox. Don’t worry about me. I’m more concerned about your own teeth and claws. A fox cannot live by their wits alone.”

“The wits help, though.”

His smile was the barest flick of the lips. “So will the ax.”

I couldn’t argue with him there.

We moved on, searching the main building, finding a body here or there, gutted like fish and left to meet their maker like an animal. Dying where they fell, with no gesture of comfort. No covered eyes, no dropped flowers—nothing to ease their way from this world to the next. It made my fingers itch for Tallis’s fiddle.

There were no bodies in HisBen’s room, but there were other surprises there. I’d never been into his inner sanctum, as he called it. Just his sitting room, before he put me in the Penitent Box.

What the sitting room had whispered, his bedroom shouted. Moonlight crept in through a large window framed by velvet draperies. Thick carpet on the floor. Soft sheets and embroidered bed hangings. An intricately carved hope chest sat at the end of the bed, the kind people pass on for generations. A crystal decanter squatted next to a lantern on the bedside table, and when I sniffed, the caramel scent of whiskey hit my nose.

I was more interested in the brass lantern. It wasn’t as finely made as everything else in the room, though it was of sturdy construction. It was the kind of lantern it was that caught my attention.

“What is it?” Tallis whispered.

“It’s a blackout lantern,” I said, showing him the little brass peg attached to the door that you could use to adjust the amount of light that it threw off. It was the sort a thief used, not a holy man, though Pops would say they were one and the same.

I sniffed the lantern and grimaced as the pungent odor of camphor hit my nose. “Burning fluid.”

“You be careful of that,” Will said from the other side of the room. “That’s dangerous stuff.”

He wasn’t wrong. Burning fluid, otherwise known as camphene, was a cheap fuel often used for lamps. The mixture of turpentine, alcohol, and camphor was extremely volatile. Camphene lamps could explode. We had enough problems right now. We did not need a fire, on top of everything else.

I surveyed the room. There was no visible violence here. The room was untouched, as if Dillard had wandered out for a moment and could be back at any time.

It was Will who opened the hope chest, and his eyes went wide. Chirp reappeared, distracted out of his hiding trick by his curiosity over what was inside. His nostrils flared as he scented the air. He made a despondent noise.

Tallis and I leaned over the chest, trying not to block what light there was streaming in through the window.

Pops had liked to tell stories. I loved the yarns about animals the best—cunning foxes tricking farmers, brave mice going on adventures, and clever cats pretending to be wealthy merchants. One of his favorites was about a long-ago creature, one that had died out before he was born, called a dragon. A big thing it was, with wings, and scales, and fire it could shoot out its nose to best warriors that came after its hoard. Any dragon worth its salt had a hoard, whether it be books and other fine things or coins or jewels.

Turns out Dillard was a dragon, though a human one, and the hope chest contained his hoard. Will started bringing things up into the light so we could see better. A pearl necklace. Diamond cuff links. An emerald dragonfly brooch. A set of fine pistols in a leather holster. Gold timepieces. A ruby hatpin. Silver sugar tongs. Delicate snuffboxes. Unfathomable wealth.

Will set the pistols aside with the satisfied expression of a body reunited with old friends. When he dug out a silver locket, the name Mary Ellen etched in delicate letters, his eyes welled up. I reached out and grasped his shoulder. He swallowed hard and nodded. With her locket in HisBen’s hope chest and herself missing, we’d have to count her among the dead and mourn later.

“At least you know.” I squeezed his shoulder, trying to comfort in a situation that gave none.

One object in particular caught my eye, and I gasped before I plunged my hand into the hope chest. When I pulled my hand up into the light, I braced myself for disappointment. I opened my fingers, revealing Pops’s watch. I clutched it, my teeth clenched against the sob that wanted to break free. Out of all the things to cry over tonight, a recovered watch was such a tiny thing, but a few tears escaped, and I quickly wiped them away with my wrist.

When I clicked open the hidden compartment, the land deed was still there. The relief was almost heady.

Tallis pulled out the next object I recognized—the finely carved ivory pipe I’d last seen clenched between Cartwright’s teeth.

Will shook his head. “What has Dillard been up to all these years?”

“No good,” Tallis said immediately. “You don’t get something like this by doing good things.” He poked at the treasure indifferently, as if it held no meaning for him.

“We’re still missing a lot of people,” I said. There had been no sign of Miss Moon, Miss Honeywell, HisBen, or the children. We only had a few places left to check—the food cellar, the barn, and the chapel.

We decided on the cellar next.

But we waited a moment for Will to put his pistols on first. Tallis grabbed the blackout lantern. I held the ax to one side, with Chirp flanking my other. I might be hoping for the best, but I will forever be the kind of soul who prepares for the worst.

There was no way we were going to be able to head into the cellar without bringing our own light, so it was a very good thing Tallis had the blackout lantern.

Will dug out one of his precious matches, using it to light the lamp with care. “Don’t go swinging this about, you understand? I’d like to live to see the dawn, thank you very kindly.”

Tallis’s look was so solemn that I somehow knew he was teasing Will, if only a little.

Since Tallis had the lamp, he got to go first.

“Stay to the side, if you’re able,” Will said. “I need a clear line of sight.”

We didn’t have Miss Moon’s keys, which I thought might be a problem, but it turned out it didn’t matter. The cellar door was closed but not locked. I ordered Chirp to hide and once again we stepped into the unknown.

The cellar looked exactly as it had the last time I’d stepped foot in here. The only difference was Cartwright’s body wasn’t laid out for burial. We made it quietly down the steps, though the space appeared to be empty. I heard the pad of Chirp’s paws on the wooden planking as he went to examine the barrels I’d hidden behind last time.

I didn’t think he’d go looking if there wasn’t something drawing his notice. I caught Will’s attention, motioning at him to be ready. He put his hands on the butts of his pistols.

I adjusted the ax in my hands, just in case, and stepped closer to the barrels. I leaned over the top and looked, my heart rabbiting in my chest.

Someone screamed.

I screamed.

She screamed again.

Which made me scream again.

Which caused Chirp to growl and another someone to yelp.

Then Chirp stopped hiding and both of them screamed.

It was a mess.

That was about when my brain boarded the train, and I realized that I was screaming at Dai Lo. Sitting behind her, his glasses askew, sat Jesse. Both of them looked like their eyes were going to fall right out of their skulls.

“Chirp, hush.”

The cave cat growl-talked back at me argumentatively.

“They’re friends.” I lowered the ax. Chirp settled, but the ruff of fur around his neck was still puffed out.

I huffed the last of the fear out of me. “Aw, for goodness’ sake, Dai Lo, you about scared me to death.”

“Faolan!” she wheezed, her hand over her heart. “What is that? What is that? ”

Jesse stared at Chirp, his hands absently patting his pockets like he was trying to find his pencil and his notebook. The need to sketch Chirp must have been overwhelming for him.

At that moment relief hit my chest so hard I almost had to sit down. They were alive. They were okay. “I have never in my life been so happy to see two people.”

Tallis snorted. “I nursed you back to health.”

“Your healer did that.”

“I helped,” he said patiently.

“I pulled you out of a cave,” Will said, crossing his arms. “And carried you, actually carried you , all the way to safety.”

He did have a point, at least partially. “And I am very grateful,” I said diplomatically. “But seeing as I didn’t think either of you might have been mauled to death, my statement stands.”

Dai Lo gave an irritated growl of her own. “Faolan! I asked you a very important question! I don’t think it was too much to ask!” She put her hand out, palm up, at Chirp. “What. Is. That?!” She followed it with “And who is that?”

I smiled. “This is Chirp, and that’s Tallis.” My smile fell as I realized I had no idea how to explain Chirp. I turned helplessly to Tallis.

He sighed. “Faolan screwed up a ritual Stuckley was trying to do and accidentally reached into a different world and pulled out Chirp. We don’t know what he is. We’ve been calling him a cave cat.” He scratched Chirp between the shoulder blades. “He has the best tricks.”

I nodded. “He does. Chirp, hide .”

Chirp blinked out of existence. Jesse fell back, hands frantically searching for his notebook. Dai Lo leaned forward and squinted. “Is he gone?”

“No,” I said, reaching out and scratching his head. “You can touch him if you want. He’s still here.”

Dai Lo held her hand out, and Jesse hissed, “Dai! Don’t do that! What if he bites your hand off?”

She looked calmly up at me. “Is he going to bite my hand off?”

“No.” I gave him a friendly pat. “He could, I think, but you’d have to give him a good reason.”

She slowly and gently patted his fur. Chirp reappeared, startling her a little, though she kept her hand in place. She ran her fingers over him reverently. “He’s beautiful.”

Chirp preened.

She hesitated, her fingers nestled in his fur. “Is this what we heard? The last time we were all in here?”

“My money’s on that,” I said. “But I don’t think that one’s like Chirp.”

“From the claw marks,” Will said, “I’d say the one you heard was bigger, for starters.”

“I’ve also never seen Chirp try to eat anyone,” Tallis said dryly.

Dai Lo straightened suddenly, lurching around Chirp to wrap her arms around me and squeeze tight. “We thought you were dead.”

“Owwwwww,” I whined.

“She’s not dead,” Tallis explained, his wide grin pulled lopsided by the scar on his cheek. “But she wasn’t far off. Be gentle.”

Dai Lo dropped her arms so fast you’d think I’d burned her. “Oh no, are you injured? What hurts?” She didn’t wait for my response but examined me to assess for herself.

“Hey, Faolan,” Jesse said, giving up on his notebook. “We’re overjoyed to see you, as you can tell.”

He reached out with one hand and squeezed my shoulder tight. “We thought—well, we weren’t sure what to think. You and Stuckley didn’t come back. We were worried, of course we were worried, but at first, we just figured you’d gotten lost.”

Dai Lo shook her head as she ran sure hands over my ribs. “Don’t know what HisBen was thinking, sending him out with you.”

“He was thinking I should go die in a nice cave,” I said, wincing when Dai Lo found a delicate spot. “I’m okay, Dai Lo, honest I am.”

She scowled at me.

I sighed. “I will be okay. Ask Will. Ask Tallis. I’ve been seen by a competent healer.”

She turned her attention to Will, who nodded, then moved on to Tallis. Her sharp eyes examined him quickly. “Who?”

“Anna, one of my people. She’s the best healer I’ve ever met, on my word.”

Dai Lo’s expression stayed flinty. “And I should take your word because…”

Before Tallis could respond, knowledge seemed to reorganize in Dai Lo’s head and her expression cleared. “You’re the one who helped Jesse when he injured his ankle.” She looked at me. “And the one who…”

I could feel my ears go hot. “Brought me back, yes, with the feet. I mean, with my feet. We know he has his feet.”

Tallis tipped his head to the side to see me better, his expression amused.

“I have an ax,” I said, brandishing it at him. “So don’t tempt me.” I dropped my arm to my side, letting the head of the ax touch the floor, the weight of the evening coming back to me. So many bodies.

“What happened?” I asked.

Dai Lo’s brow furrowed, and she tipped her face up to Jesse, who looked equally troubled.

“We’re not sure,” he said.

Dai Lo took his hand. “We came down here to talk.”

“You were still missing,” Jesse said. “And things around here…” He rubbed a hand over the back of his head. “I couldn’t explain it. Tense. Weird. It didn’t feel right, you know?”

“Always trust your gut,” Will said. “What did it feel like, then?”

“There’s a certain kind of tension,” Dai Lo said slowly, as if she was searching for the right combination of words. “A certain feeling when you’re worried about someone. When you’re waiting for them to come home. It didn’t feel like that. It felt like an incoming storm, when you smell ozone and the air feels crackly.”

“You know how it is, though,” Jesse said. “Eyes on you all the time. We had to try and find a place to talk it over.”

I sometimes wondered if Jesse knew how much he revealed of himself when he looked at Dai Lo like that. I’d heard the phrase heart in his eyes before and thought it grand and all—who doesn’t want someone to gaze at you with their whole heart? Grand, if you’re on the receiving end, but on the giving end, you leave yourself open. Vulnerable.

Soft.

I hadn’t been able to be soft in a long time. Jesse may not know how much he revealed, but Dai Lo did, and she mirrored it back to him, like they were two lightning bugs flashing their admiration.

She turned to me. “We were trying to decide what to do. You were gone. HisBen said they were looking for you, but…” She scrunched up her nose. “We didn’t believe it.”

“With how things were going,” Jesse said, his voice full of the fear and apprehension they must have been feeling, “we were wondering if we should try to look for you ourselves and hightail it out of here.”

“The air felt dangerous,” Dai Lo said with a nod. “Tonight, we were meeting up to try and decide what we were going to do, what our options were.”

“We weren’t down here long when we heard…” Jesse swallowed hard. “Screaming.”

“Crashing, like someone was fighting in the kitchen,” Dai Lo said.

“Yelling,” Jesse said, “and then—”

“It went so quiet,” Dai Lo finished. “We were scared to leave here and see what had happened, so we waited. When we heard your footsteps, we hid and blew out our candle.”

“From what we’ve seen,” Will said, his face grim, “that likely saved your lives.” He gave them a quick sketch of what we’d witnessed since we got back to the Settlement. Even glossing over the details, it was a devastating picture.

And it would only get worse.

Everyone was silent when Will stopped talking, our grief thick, our fear a weight. We couldn’t linger in it. Later, if we lived, we could mourn as we saw fit. For now, we could only go on.

As usual, Tallis’s thoughts seemed to dovetail with mine. “The real question is, what do we do now?”