Page 53 of Unbroken
“What about the rest of the children?” Ves asked. Another thought struck him. “Or Sebastian and me?”
“She would have used your poppets if she had them, though I doubt the magic would have worked on you,” Mother replied. “My guess is you’ll find them in the other children’s beds as well. But, as they’re not in immediate danger, those can wait for now.” She studied the poppet closely. “The girl does have talent. Keep her away from the Endicotts.”
“She thought she was casting a spell to bring back her father,” Ves said. “He left without saying goodbye.”
“Much like someone else I know,” she replied, giving him a cutting look.
It wasn’t the same, he told himself as he led the way back downstairs to the fireplace. He and Noct had run for their lives, their freedom, their souls. Jeremy had been in the midst of sneaking away even before Sebastian attacked him. Yet he felt irrationally guilty, because he knew their desertion had hurt their grandfather deeply. As for Mother…who knew what she felt, other than rage.
They threw the poppets into the fireplace, and Mother lit them with a word. The flame sprang up at her command, rapidly consuming the two dolls of yarn and hair.
Behind them, Clara began to cry.
Ves hurried to the couch as Bonnie blinked in confusion. Looking up, she mumbled, “Ves? How long have I been asleep?” Then her eyes went to Mother. “Who is that?”
“I’m Lenore Rune, Vesper’s mother,” she said with a warmth that sent up warning bells in Ves’s head, because he knew it wasn’t real.
Bonnie was no fool; she immediately clutched the wailing Clara to her and struggled to sit up. “What is she doing here? What’s going on?” Her eyes went to the dead man on the floor and she let out a cry of horror.
“There’s no time to explain—Sebastian’s in danger,” Ves said quickly. “The School of Night put a spell on you and Clara so you’d sleep and they could use you as hostages without any trouble. For now, you need to take the baby and get out of the house.”
“I can go to Mrs. Adams.”
Ves winced. “I’m afraid she’s one of them. I’ll explain later, I swear. For now, try to get to the Endicott estate—they’ll pay for a taxi. Noct and Irene are there, and you’ll be safe. Tell them the Chancellor is taking Sebastian to the museum to get the Books.”
Bonnie looked as though she had more questions, but only said, “All right. Please, Ves, keep my brother safe.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“We will do what we can,” Mother corrected.
Ves straightened and turned to face her. Every instinct screamed that she was up to no good, that this was some kind of trap.
“You need me, Vesper,” she said, seeing his reluctance. “While you waste time with solving murders and working a job like a common human, I spend my hours far more wisely. I know so much more about this town than you ever will.”
This was the reason she and Grandfather had withheld what they knew about the Books and the School of Night. So that, when the right moment came, she had something to hold over his head and compel him to do what she wanted.
But why? What was she after?
It didn’t matter. Sebastian’s life was at stake. They had to reach the library before the Chancellor could get her hands on the Books, because she’d kill him the moment she had them.
“All right,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Consciousness returned like a scolded child, drawing closer in fits and starts, hovering around the edges of Sebastian’s brain until at last he opened his eyes.
His head ached abominably, and he was lying on his back on an unyielding surface that did nothing to cushion his poor skull. He tried to lift a hand, but found it tied down to his side.
The only light came from a kerosene lantern sitting to one side on a path of crushed oyster shell. Above, the night sky was completely covered by clouds, and thunder growled not far off. A tall hedge sporting pink flowers surrounded the space he was in, and he realized he was tied to a marble bench in a sort of circular clearing.
And in the very center was a tree.
Four trunks sank their roots into the earth, joining together into a single thick stem about three feet off the ground. The bark was oddly shiny, and black as oil in the lantern light. Its many branches hung down like those of a weeping willow, leafy and green. They moved independently of the wind, and when they shifted, he glimpsed row after row of small mouths, each filled with a forest of teeth.
A Dark Young.
The sight shocked him; after interacting with Ves and Noct, he’d somehow imagined all Dark Young would have some human qualities. But no human had contributed to this one’s ancestry. Had the All-Mother shaped it from some seed of pollen or drifting flower, let it sprout in whatever far-off place Fuller had found it as a sapling?
Despite its alienness, there was something strangely beautiful in its swaying branches, its delicate leaves. He could understand why a man like Fuller, driven to explore the world in search of exotic plants, would have collected it.
