Then, from the back door, a sound. Aaron grabbed a pistol and stealthily slipped down the hallway to the kitchen. When he saw who it was, he put his gun down. Liam and Eva entered together, talking softly. Eva had a stricken look on her face when she turned to Aaron. “You killed Marcus?”
Aaron smiled now. “Indeed,” he said. “Liam’s just been out to bury him.” He watched her face. “Disappointed?”
Eva just stared at him. “Yes,” she said. “I was so looking forward to doing it.” But she didn’t sound very convincing.
Liam interrupted. “What about the high priest? I saw him enter. We heard the pounding and waited before we came in.”
“You were wise to wait. Haluki is in our possession. He’s a bit tied up,” Aaron said. No one laughed.
Just then Dred Crandall burst through the back door, breathing hard. “There’s a major fight going on in the street with the Unwanteds,” he said, gasping. “Down by their gate. All of Artimé has disappeared and there are bodies everywhere! Several of our Restorers are down and so are many of theirs.”
Aaron grew alarmed. “What? What were you doing down there tonight?”
“We attacked at your command, sir!”
Aaron stared at him. And then, slowly, he turned and looked at the frozen Eva Fathom. She shook her head as if she didn’t understand a word Dred was saying.
In the pantry, Claire Morning’s eyes opened wider at every revelation. Artimé gone? Bodies everywhere? Gunnar captured, her father buried . . . She stared at the dark shelf above her, not seeing it, and worked at the ropes around her wrists until her arms burned and her fingers bled.
The Weight of the World
Sean picked up the sleeve of his jacket, which was still wrapped around Meghan, and wiped his eyes with it. He looked at Alex. “It’s up to you, man. You’ve got to fix this.”
Alex’s throat ached. He couldn’t fathom it. “I can’t,” he whispered. “I don’t know how. He never taught me all of that.”
Sean turned and faced Alex. “He’s told you a lot more than anyone else here,” he said. “You’re the only one who can do it.”
Alex shook his head. “No. You don’t get it. It was just supposed to be for a few days. I can’t even wrap my mind around this.” He looked at Meghan. “We need to worry about her. And Sam and Lani . . . Simber . . .” Mr. Today is dead. Mr. Today is dead. Dead. “And find . . . everybody else.”
“Oh! Blast it.” Sean’s face turned to panic. “Speaking of everybody else, I have to go. They’re still out there fighting. I have to get back and help.” It was as though he’d just realized the entire world hadn’t stopped when he found Alex and saw his sister. He struggled to his feet, still carrying her. “Get up,” he said to Alex, an anxious tone in his voice. “This isn’t over. But you’you need to stay here. And stay hidden. If you die, we have no chance at all. Here, take Meghan.”
Alex scrambled up on weak legs and Sean placed his sister into Alex’s arms.
“Go hide in the shack. Bolt the door. Try to find something to eat and get some rest’you look . . . wow. You look terrible.”
Alex watched, slack-jawed and completely overwhelmed, as Sean turned and ran, jumping over the creatures that littered the lawn. Carrying Meghan, he picked his way carefully to the gray shack, struggling in the dark and unsure of his footing, exhausted from his ordeal.
When he reached the shack, his arms were trembling. He pushed the door open and stumbled in, straining to see in the shadows. He’d never been in here before. Not as a shack’only in its mansion form. He peered around the darkness and saw some furniture-like blobs. He staggered over and laid Meghan on a couch, then caught the back of it with his hand to steady himself and stop the black spots that swam before his eyes, like one of the paintings in Mr. Today’s office. Mr. Today is dead, he thought once again. He’s dead. The man who saved us all . . . is dead. But it just wasn’t registering. He sucked in a deep breath and let it out. Then another, slower, until the spots went away. He thought about what Sean said, about eating something, and realized that might really be part of his problem. He hadn’t eaten a thing since lunch.
And then he heard the creak of a door opening.
He whirled around and searched the dark room without success. “Who’s there!” he said. “I have a weapon and I will kill you.”
He sidestepped into the familiarly shaped kitchen’familiar to Quill homes, not to the mansion’wondering how on earth there were no lights here, and then he remembered how things used to be. He reached into the kitchen drawer and pulled out the required candles and flint. He lit one, only a little bit rusty at using the flint after not having had to light a candle in well over a year. It flared up, and the chicken-grease-soaked string stayed lit. Alex held it in front of him. “Who’s there?” he said again. He walked toward the bedroom and pushed the door open.
Inside, the light reflected on two sets of orange eyes.
Alex gasped. Their beds had disappeared along with all of the other lovely things from the mansion, though it was clear Mr. Today had had some kitchen goods and furniture in this shack for the purpose of the governors’ visits. Now there was merely a small single bed that looked quite precarious. The two huddled instead on the floor, looking terribly harmless. Was it really just earlier today that the girl had spit in his face?