| |
I drop my stick. “The Mara are ghosts?”
“Not exactly,” Cadence sounds bored. “But neither is Ravel if you ask me. Which you should have.”
“You heard him too? Back by the stream?”
“I heard the same thing you did. You just never asked. Which, again, could have made things a whole lot simpler. But now you need to get back to Gran.”
Then, apparently in revenge, she refuses to answer any more of my questions. So I take the long way back, watching people dash around in controlled alarm. Little kids dart in circles waving toy weapons like miniatures of the sticks and branches Steph’s been using to train me, which is depressing. Eager-looking teens in dark combat gear and securely holstered weaponry quick-march in packs, and more than a few of their elders seem to be marshalling, too. The rumours spread: under attack, enemy lurking in the woods, protect the borders, send out scouts, a squad, no, a whole division.
The whispers dry up when they catch sight of me. Tight smiles, wary eyes, or worried, or pitying. One lady even tells me to go on home like I’m one of the little kids getting shooed inside away from the threat.
Soon enough, the streets clear and the clusters of movement wheel away, and there’s nothing much to do besides lurk by the main gates and watch for signs of a ghostly attack, or head back to Susan’s place and wait for news.
So, of course, I head to the gates.
Which turns out to be a boring move. A solid row of dreamwalkers bars my way. They won’t let me up on the wall, where I could get a better view. They won’t tell me anything. They won’t even talk to Cadence when she tries to get answers.
I circle around and try one of the side gates, but guards are everywhere now. They keep warning me off. Every door is buried behind bristling strangers.
I keep thinking I’ll run into Steph and the other trainees that I challenged last week, but after covering maybe a third of the wall from the inside, I still haven’t seen them. They’re either stationed at a different gate, or they’ve been sent out to deal with the threat.
Curiosity gives way to thirst and a growing desire to get off my feet, so I drag myself home. Back to Susan’s, I mean—twisting around to check behind me every few steps and make sure I’m not missing anything important.
When I get there, the house is empty. I slam through the motions of getting a drink, shedding dirt in my wake, too afraid to miss any new developments by wasting time with anything so mundane as washing up.
But somewhere between downing that cup of water and craning my neck to watch the door and the window in turn, I must have put my head down. The next thing I know, I’m picking it up off the table.
Susan stands in the doorway. She looks from the dirty floor to me. “Really?”
I ignore the fact that we haven’t been on speaking terms for days now, and also the related fact that I don’t trust her, in favour of getting some answers. “What happened? Did they find the ghost?”
“Bath. Now.”
“I know, sorry, it’s just—is it over? What happened?”
She sidesteps the mess, opens the bathroom door and points.
“I’ll clean up after. What did they find? Was there a fight? Did we win?”
Her mouth tightens. I’m starting to think it’s not the dirty floor that has her upset. But when she speaks, her tone is surprisingly gentle. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll explain after.”
“Oh, just go wash already,” Cadence grumbles.
It’s the fastest I’ve ever scrubbed down in my life. Susan refuses to answer any questions until after I’ve swept and wiped up the dirt I tracked in the door, too, which at the very least must mean that whatever happened can’t have been too dramatic. Though, what do I know? Maybe she just wants to have clean floors when the invading ghostly hordes descend.
Susan cooks in silence, and then we both have to eat even though it’s the middle of the night—still without answers—and then, settling in her chair with mugs of tea for the both of us, she tips her head. “Now, what was it you wanted to know?”
I could scream.
Deep breath. Unclench fists. Okay. “Oh, nothing much. Just wondered if that ghost Grace and I met in the woods came back, maybe with a ghost army? Seeing as how we scrambled our entire fighting force this afternoon? Which, by the way, I wasn’t aware included you—”
“She’s retired,” Cadence says helpfully.
“Semi-retired.” Susan sips her tea, watching me over the rim of the cup. “Was that all?”
This time I nearly do scream, emitting a high-pitched shriek like a boiling kettle before clamping my lips.
Susan grins. “Good news: there was no attack, ghostly or otherwise. You’re lucky you didn’t get called out; you had a nice peaceful day at home while the rest of us charged about defending against an imaginary enemy.”
“I didn’t make it up. Cadence heard too—”
“Sit down.” She flaps her hand at me. “I wasn’t accusing you of lying.”
I perch on the edge of my seat stubbornly, tea growing cold beside me. “We heard him.”
“Okay. Tell me all about your ghost.” She settles back in her chair like she’s getting ready for some kind of bedtime story.
“I’m not making this up.” I pause, but she doesn’t argue. Just sips her tea expectantly, if a little louder than strictly necessary. “It was Ravel. I know it was.”
“Oh? How?”
“His voice. What he said. No one talks like him. No one calls me . . . that.” Goosebumps ripple over my skin. Why isn’t Ash here? Why is Ravel haunting me? I thought I’d come to terms with him, with the way he’d been.
“Calls you what?” she asks.
I glare.
She blinks innocently. “So you just knew it was this Ravel from his voice. But you didn’t see anything?”
“Can you see ghosts?” I mean to sound sarcastic, but a note of curiosity creeps in.
Her eyes crinkle, but all she says is, “So, basically, you saw a bunch of trees and heard the voice of an old friend?”
“He wasn’t a friend.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” Cadence says.
Susan’s eyes widen. She sits up a little straighter. “Noted. So this not-friend, you knew him back in—”
“He was the son of the leader of Refuge.” Cadence takes over. “And a wannabe rebel. A creepy, controlling jerk, but he had his uses.”
Susan looks like she’s waiting for me to argue.
I shrug. “What she said.”
“Did he hurt you? Is he dangerous?”
“Not anymore,” says Cadence.
Dangerous? He’d caused harm. Cost lives. Almost cost me mine.
He’d also tried to sacrifice his own to save it. I’m certainly no longer dazzled by him, no longer overwhelmed beyond reason, but neither will I make the mistake of thinking him harmless, nor powerless, nor even, simply, an enemy.
“Always. Especially when he was trying to help.” My tone is mocking, but the words fall like stones on the rug, with a nearly audible thud.
It was true of more than just Ravel. I’m not sure if that makes me feel more forgiving of him, or more wary of everyone else. Especially myself.
“How much did he know about us?” Susan seems alert, but not alarmed.
“Nothing,” Cadence says. Susan still looks to me for confirmation.
I feel just a tad smug about that. “He saw me dreamwalk. Saw me fight. He has memories of when we first arrived and Cadence’s parents dying,”—Susan blinks fast, a sudden sheen to her eyes—“and he seemed to have some idea of what we could do. But I don’t think he could actually see much more than the silvering. He didn’t seem to notice the threads or even the Mara—”
“That’s what they called their monsters,” Cadence interrupts. “Anyway, we never told him anything so if he found out something out, it wasn’t our fault.”
“But you do think he knew you were from outside the city?”
“I guess,” I say. “But nothing more.”
“So he couldn’t possibly have found you all this way away?”
“I don’t think ghosts care about distance—”
But Cadence speaks over me again. “He was good at finding out secrets. If anyone could have figured it out, he would have. But not from us.”
“Did anyone else know where you were from? Where you were going? Did you ever say anything to him, or even near him, or around those under his influence, about Nine Peaks?”
“No,” I say.
“Yes,” says Cadence. “Maybe. Ash might’ve mentioned it to, um, some people.”
Susan’s fingers tighten around her teacup. “He knows better. What people?”
Cadence doesn’t answer, so our grandmother frowns at me instead.
I fidget, knowing it makes me look guilty but helpless not to. “Don’t look at me. I didn’t even know we were leaving until it was too late.”
“Cadence?” asks Susan.
“It was nothing. Just some kid,” she finally says.
“What kid?”
“There was this little girl. Her family helped him when he first arrived. She’d been separated from her dad and wanted help getting him back. It was hard for Ash to leave her behind. He talked too much, maybe, but she was just a kid . . .”
Lily. Ash had told Lily? Then, somehow, Ravel had gotten a hold of her? Would he have hurt her?
To get to me? Maybe. Probably.
Ugh. I’d liked it better when I’d thought he was a ghost. “Okay, so maybe he could have found out where we were headed. There’s still the barrier—”
“Um,” Cadence interrupts. “Ash might have mentioned something about that too . . .”
“Time for bed.” Susan jolts to her feet.
“I still have questions.”
“Bed.” She follows up the order by marching into her room and closing the door.
“Somebody’s in trouble,” Cadence singsongs.