فصل 8

CHAPTER EIGHT Wolves

Two Screechers appeared and yanked Kate, Emma, and Michael out of their chairs as a wall of rain swept toward the house. Kate could hear Michael protesting, shouting pleas to the Countess.

They were dragged along candlelit hallways, the Secretary scrambling to keep up. Emma clawed at the hand gripping her arm, yelling at the creature to let go. The Screecher responded by throwing her over his shoulder, but Emma just continued to pound, albeit futilely, at its back. Kate knew there was only one place they could be heading.

They stopped at a set of double doors, and the Secretary pulled out a ring of keys.

“Wait—” Kate began, but the doors opened and they were thrown inside. The lock snapped into place behind them, and Kate heard the Secretary’s high-pitched giggle fading away down the hall.

The room was silent and utterly, completely dark. Outside, rain hammered on the roof.

Suddenly, there was a scrambling, a scuffling, someone grunting in pain. Emma had found Michael and thrown herself on him.

“Emma, stop it!” With difficulty, Kate pulled her sister away, getting an elbow in the cheek in the process.

“I hate you!” Emma yelled. “I wish you were dead! You’re not my brother!”

“No!” Kate put her face against her sister’s. Emma’s cheek was wet with tears. “Don’t ever say that! You hear me? Don’t ever say that!”

Emma let herself go limp and Kate held her as she sobbed. Michael was sniffling on the floor. Kate knew she should go to him and comfort him, tell him she understood why he’d done it, but she couldn’t bring herself to, not yet.

There was a thud a few feet away. Emma stopped crying. None of them moved. They stared into the dark, listening.

“Where are we?” Emma whispered.

In answer, the night sky ignited, and for a flickering instant, white light flashed across the room. Kate stifled a cry. Fifty children were standing there, staring at them. Kate could see the rows of beds, the shadows from the barred windows stretching across the floor. Then thunder shook the house, and once again, there was darkness.

A voice said, “Who’s got the light?”

A scratch, the flare of a match, and then a lamp glowed at the back of the room.

“Give it here,” the voice said, and the small globe of light passed from hand to hand, illuminating one pale face after another, till it stopped at the speaker.

“You,” Emma said.

Stephen McClattery stepped toward them, bringing the lamp near their faces. He studied them for a long moment, then said, “Hold ‘em.”

A flowing mass of children swarmed around them.

“Wait!” Kate cried as her arms were pinned at her sides. “What’re you doing?”

“He’s with the Countess.” Stephen pointed at Michael. “We seen him.”

“So what?” Emma said, kicking at the children trying to hold her. “We’re not!”

“He’s your brother, ain’t he? You’re probably all in it together.”

Kate saw that most of the children were young, no more than six or seven, their faces half savage with fear and excitement.

“He’s a traitor,” Stephen said. “He’s helping her.”

“No!” Kate said. “He made a mistake! That’s all!”

“Still makes him a traitor. Quiet now. We gotta talk.”

Turning away from Kate, he began whispering to four or five boys and girls, all about his age. Kate had been in enough orphanages to see children this way before. Left alone, they formed their own laws. Their own societies. The secret, she knew, was not to show fear. Show fear, and they’d tear you apart.

Stephen McClattery turned back around.

“We decided. We’re gonna hang him.”

“What?!”

Stephen nodded seriously. “That’s what you do with traitors. I read it in a book.”

Apparently, that was good enough for the other children. They started chanting, “Hang ‘im! Hang ‘im!”

“Somebody get a rope!” Stephen McClattery said.

“We ain’t got no rope!” a voice called out.

“You could tear up some sheets,” Emma said. “Then tie ‘em all together!”

“Emma!”

Emma looked at Kate and shrugged, unconcerned.

“Thanks,” Stephen McClattery said. “You three, tear them sheets.”

Three boys stripped the sheets off a couple of beds and began trying to rip them into strips.

“You can’t hang him!” Kate was still being held by half a dozen hands, and to talk to Stephen, she had to yell across the room. She was trying not to panic. She knew it would only feed their tempers. The mob had taken the children over. “He made a mistake! Everyone makes mistakes!”

“What about this?” A girl ran forward with a velvet rope she’d pulled off one of the curtains.

“Yeah, that’ll work,” Stephen said, and with surprising deftness, he quickly fashioned it into a noose. “Bring ‘im here! And you three stop messin’ with them sheets!”

Michael was carried forward so that he and Stephen stood in the middle of the crowd of children.

“Hey, wait …” Emma was starting to look nervous.

“You been found guilty fair and square of being a traitor,” Stephen said. “You got any last words?”

Michael was crying. He mumbled something under his breath.

“What’s that?”

Michael raised his head and looked at Kate and Emma. “I said … I’m sorry.”

Michael’s tears glistened in the lamplight, and it seemed to Kate that he was hardly aware of the other children or what was about to happen, or if he was aware, then he didn’t care. All that mattered to him was that his sisters understood.

“Well, that’s fine,” Stephen McClattery said, “but rules is rules.” When it came to executions, the boy was clearly all business. “You’re a traitor and we gotta hang you.” He looped the noose over Michael’s head, and the cry went up a second time, “Hang ‘im! Hang ‘im!” The mob began to drag Michael away. Kate knew now that she’d have to fight. She’d have to fight Stephen McClattery and beat him. If she did that, the other children would fall in line. She was about to launch herself at him when a voice spoke—it was a voice she recognized.

“For the love of all that’s—Nobody’s getting hanged.”

Stephen swung the lamp around, and Abraham limped into the light. Behind him, Kate saw a sort of a door in the wall where none had been before.

“Clear off, you hooligans,” he said, pushing through the children till he could take the noose from around Michael’s neck. The children holding Kate and Emma melted away. “Hanging. That’s what you’re up to now, is it?” He cuffed Stephen lightly on the back of the head. “Where’s your sense, boy?”

“He’s a traitor,” Stephen said. “They’re probably all traitors.”

“These two ain’t. I promise you that.” He gestured to Kate and Emma. “I saw ‘em nabbed by the Screechers.”

“Well, he is. We can’t just let ‘im go.”

Abraham took the lamp and held it up to Michael’s tear-stained face.

“That he is. But listen to me, all of you.” Despite the muffling of the rain, Abraham kept his voice low. “These are bad times. Everyone’s done things that want forgiving. But we start turning on each other, and she’s won. What matters is we hold together. That’s all we got in the end. Each other. Remember that.”

No one spoke for a few moments. Kate saw Emma bend down and pick up something from the floor. Michael’s glasses. They’d been knocked off in the scuffle. Emma turned them over in her hands, then silently held them out.

“Thanks,” Michael said, choking a little.

The other children seemed to have forgotten Kate and her siblings. They were pressing around Abraham.

“What’d you bring us?”

“What you got, Abraham?”

Kate was amazed at how quickly the hysteria had left the children. She had seen it happen before, with other groups of children, but never quite so suddenly.

“Everyone settle down,” Abraham said. “I want to see Annie first.”

A murmur passed through the crowd, and the little girl with pigtails who’d been dangled off the edge of the dam moved to the front. Abraham knelt down. He pulled a handmade doll out of his jacket. “I made this myself. I’d be happy if you’d take it.”

The little girl accepted the doll and hugged it to her breast, not uttering a word.

Abraham produced a stack of letters. “Now, let’s be quiet as I hand these out. Stephen and the others will help you young ‘uns read ‘em.”

A reverent silence fell across the room. One by one, as Abraham whispered the names on the letters, the children stepped up, received the envelopes, and carried them back to their beds.

When he’d finished, Abraham came over to where Kate stood with Michael and Emma. “The witch don’t know about the secret passageways in the house, so I try and sneak in least once a week. Bring food. Letters from their parents. I’m sorry about earlier, you girls getting nabbed and whatnot. I was just told to take a photo a’ the boy holding that ‘help me’ sign. Didn’t know it was some sort a’ trap. Anyway, I saw them monsters drag you off and I figured you’d end up here. Seems I arrived in the nick a’ time.”

“Thank you,” Kate said. “I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “They’re good children. Just been scared for too long is all. They wouldn’t a’ really hung your brother … most likely. Now, you three best be coming with me. The Countess has something in mind for you, and I tremble thinking what it might be.”

“But if you can just come and go,” Emma asked, “why don’t they all escape?”

Abraham gave a dry laugh. “That’s where she’s smart, the witch. Keeps everyone separate, children, mothers, fathers. Has them monsters a’ hers guarding ‘em all. These young ‘uns know if they try and escape, their mothers and fathers will be put on the boat. Tortured. Worse, even.”

Stephen stepped up and whispered something in Abraham’s ear. He nodded.

“I need to check on one that’s been sick. Then we go.”

He followed Stephen to a bed a few yards away. Kate felt someone tug her hand. Annie was standing there, clutching her new doll. The little girl raised her arms. Kate understood at once. Most of the children here were younger than Emma. Besides that day at the dam, they probably hadn’t seen their mothers in years. That made her the next closest thing. Kate picked the girl up, and Annie wrapped her thin arms around her neck.

“Kate,” Emma said.

She turned. Twenty small children had gathered around. They were staring at Kate and Annie with eyes of deep longing. Kate felt her heart throb with pain and wished she could comfort them all.

Abraham approached with Stephen. “All right, then. Time to go. There’s no telling when she’ll send one of them ghouls to check on you.”

Kate lowered Annie to the floor.

“You leavin’ us?” Annie asked.

Without thinking, Kate said, “I’ll come back; I promise.”

“She don’t mean it,” Stephen McClattery said.

“Yes, she does!” Michael had spoken hotly, and everyone looked at him in surprise. “When my sister says something, she means it. She came for me, didn’t she?” He looked at Kate and Emma. “If she says she’ll come back, she will.”

“That’s right,” Emma said. “And if any of you try and hang my brother again, you’re gonna have to hang me first!” She nodded fiercely at Michael, and Kate saw it was forgiven.

“Quickly now,” Abraham said, and he stepped into the passageway. Kate followed Emma and Michael through. She looked back at the ghostly faces of Annie and Stephen and the other children. Then Abraham closed the door with a soft click, and all was dark.

“Hold here a moment,” Abraham whispered. And they heard him move off down the passage.

The air was musty and stale, and their shoulders pressed against each other in the tight space. Kate felt Michael shudder, and when he spoke, his voice was raw.

“I thought … I could do something myself. You’ve always taken care of us, Kate. I just thought, for once, I could …”

“It’s okay.”

“And I know Mom and Dad are coming back. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay. Really.”

“Yeah,” Emma said. “Just don’t be so stupid again.”

And there, in the darkness, they sought each other’s hands.

Abraham returned, bringing the smell of rain and mud on his clothes.

“It’s clear. Now we can’t risk a light, so the going’ll be slow. The rain’s a help, but be quiet as you can. All our lives depend on it.”

He set off, Emma behind him, Michael following, and Kate bringing up the rear.

The passageway was only a couple of feet wide, and Abraham would whisper back warnings to duck or step over a board or about holes to avoid. Now and then slivers of light penetrated the walls. But for the most part, Kate could only just discern the dim outline of Michael’s head. Abraham guided them, left, right, up a few stairs, down a couple. After ten minutes of winding through the maze-like corridors, he paused. It had grown lighter, and they could make out each other’s features. Abraham put a finger to his lips, warning them to be even quieter.

It was a good thing he did, for when they turned the corner, the Countess was waiting for them. She was not in the passageway itself. Rather, she was in one of the mansion’s many sitting rooms, staring through an oval window that was set into the wall that separated her room from the passage. Emma couldn’t help but emit a small gasp, and Abraham immediately clamped a hand over her mouth. But it was too late; the witch had noticed them.

Or had she? Seconds passed, and the Countess simply stood there, inches from the glass, calmly turning her head this way and that. Then Kate remembered: she’d been in that room. There was a mirror on the wall. Exactly where the Countess stood. And as Kate watched, the Countess touched a hand to her hair and, still giving no sign of having seen the children, turned and stepped away.

Abraham motioned the children to come along, and they were about to follow when someone in the Countess’s room began talking.

“And what will milady do now, if her poor servant may inquire?” The gray-toothed Secretary was hunched at a drinks cart, pouring ice-cold vodka into a glass, the yellow bird perched atop his shoulder.

Across the room, the Countess reclined in a comfortable chair, her dainty feet resting on a stool.

“I will make a full report. I should have done so when the children appeared the first time.”

“Yes, yes, of course, an indubitably intelligent course of action.” Scraping low, the man handed her the glass.

The two-way mirror was on the wall directly opposite where the Countess was seated; this meant the children, clustered in the passageway, had a clear view of all that transpired. It was thrilling to be so close, the more so since Kate couldn’t quite believe they were invisible. Each time the Countess’s gaze drifted over the wall, Kate had to fight the urge to run. She was thankful for the enveloping thrum of the rain, certain that otherwise the Countess and her secretary would hear her heart hammering against her chest.

“What is it, you sniveling little rodent?” the Countess snapped. “I know you’re thinking something.”

Twisting his fingers, the man Cavendish bowed quickly three or four times. “Just … no, impossible, not my place to venture, no—”

“Your place is to do what I tell you, you gnat. Now, what is transpiring in that putrid brain of yours?”

Alone with her secretary, the Countess apparently felt no need to be charming or to act the part of the airy, gold-speckled teenager. She looked the same, certainly, but her manner, her voice, everything about her now spoke of power, malice, and a greedy, jackal-like hunger.

Cavendish sucked in his head like a turtle. He spoke in moist little gasps. “Yes, milady, and forgive my imbecility, I was just inquiring of myself what exactly the Countess would report? That she had one of the Books of Beginning and lost it?”

“That was beyond my power to control. You know that.”

“Undeniable, yes, certainly undeniable, the Countess is innocent. And fortunately”—he corkscrewed two of his fingers and gave a ghoulish, insincere smile—“fortunately, our master is known for his understanding nature.”

Their master? Kate was stunned. There was someone else? Someone maybe worse than the Countess? How was that even possible? She looked over and saw Emma shake her head and mouth the word “great.”

“You think I should not tell him,” the Countess said slowly.

Cavendish took an eager step forward. “The missing book must be close, milady. You said so yourself earlier—very beautifully, one might add. And a person, even a person as dull as myself, can’t help but conjecture how much better it would be to say, ‘I have your prize, Master.’ Not, ‘I had it, then lost it. Oops!’ ”

Sipping her vodka, the Countess rested her head against the leather back of her chair. “You have a point, worm. Very well. I will wait.”

The man bowed even lower, as if being called “worm” was the highest compliment. But he continued to study her from the tops of his small eyes.

“How is it,” she said quietly, “that after all these thousands of years, three unremarkable children should just stumble on one of the Books of Beginning?”

“Chance, perhaps? Simple hazard?”

The Countess laughed scornfully. “There is no such thing as chance where magic is concerned. Those children are important somehow. In a way I do not fully understand.”

Back in the passageway, Abraham plucked at Kate’s sleeve, signaling they had to leave. But Kate shook her head. She and Michael and Emma were being discussed. She wanted to hear what was said.

The Countess finished her drink and held out the glass for Cavendish to refill. “And you’ve searched the cellar completely? This chamber the boy spoke of, the underground study where they found the book, there’s no trace of it?”

“None, milady. And no evidence of enchantments hiding such a space. This chamber, if the child was telling the truth, must have been created in the future. Does milady still believe the old man is behind this?”

“Of course,” the Countess sneered, “who else could it be?” She tapped her fingernails against the glass, suddenly gleeful. “Imagine, once I bring our master the book, I shall be raised up higher than any other. I will rule at his side.”

Cavendish dropped the carafe with a clatter onto the cart. The Countess looked up sharply. “Careful, toad!”

“Yes, yes, Countess. A million thousand pardons.” He fiddled with the bottles pointlessly, knocking them against each other.

“You truly are a moron, you know that? When you have something to say, say it. Instead of blundering about like a drunken parlor maid.”

The man turned. He was pulling on his fingers with such force that Kate thought he might yank them free of his hands. “It is just, milady, I worry for you, yes, I worry for you, I do.”

She laughed. “For me? And why should you worry for me, you walking collection of dirt?”

He shuffled close to her chair, still twisting and wrenching his fingers, seemingly unable to look her in the face. “The Countess is so beautiful and so strong, and our master, terrible and awesome as he is, has been known to be … unpredictable.”

The room became very still. The Countess stared at the sweating, twitchy man.

“You think he will deny me my reward?”

“No, no,” he said, glancing up quickly. “I would never say that. Never. But …” He put his fingers in his mouth and bit them viciously.

“What would you have me do? Speak.”

“It’s just …” He inched closer. His voice was like the hiss of a snake. “The Countess is already so powerful that I wonder, once she has the book, who then would be more powerful? The Countess or—”

The Countess’s hand shot out and seized the man by his stringy hair. The bird took off from his shoulder in alarm.

“Are you suggesting, you miserable creature, that once I am in possession of the book, I betray our sworn master and turn its power to my own purposes?”

“Milady, no! Never! You misunderstand—”

“Do I?” She gave his hair a terrific yank.

“Please, Mistress! I beg you! I never—never—”

She smiled then, beautiful and deadly. “Calm yourself, Mr. Cavendish. I know you only mean to protect me. And in any case”—she smoothed the man’s greasy hair—“I do not yet possess the book, do I?”

In the damp and dark of the passageway, Kate felt a chill as she watched the man and woman look at each other and something pass between them.

Abraham pulled her sleeve again. Insistent. She nodded. Every moment they lingered was dangerous. She’d just started to turn when the Countess said:

“Did you notice the oldest one, the girl? The book has marked her.”

Kate froze.

“I wonder,” the Countess murmured, “is it possible.… No, it can’t be.…”

The Secretary grinned horribly. “I know what milady is thinking. Impossible, and yet if it were true … Perhaps the Countess wishes to examine the child again? Before I entered, I took the liberty of dispatching one of the morum cadi to retrieve her. She should be here any moment.”

Emma and Michael looked at Kate, their eyes wide with panic. They had to go—now. But before any of them could move, a scream ripped through the walls of the house.

They ran, no longer making any attempt at being quiet. They heard the shrill, raised voice of the Secretary, the far-off uproar in the children’s room, the cries of the Screechers.

Very quickly, they reached what looked like a dead end. They could hear more Screechers outside, circling the house. Abraham was breathing heavily.

“I’ll go first. You three wait till you hear me draw ‘em off. Then run for the trees. Keep going as far and as fast as you can. Find someplace to hide tonight. Come morning, head south along the river. Watch the sky. Folks say the witch uses birds as spies. A day’s walk and you’ll reach the lake. Any boat should take you to Westport. I’m sorry I can’t help more.”

“You’ve done so much,” Kate said. “Thank you.”

“Tell me this,” Abraham said, “is it true you’re from the future?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re here to set things right?”

“What? No, we—we just came to get Michael.”

“You promised them kids you’d come back.”

“And I will. But I don’t know how to help them.”

For a moment, Abraham just stared at her. “Maybe not,” he said finally. “But you heard the Countess. There’s no such thing as chance when it comes to magic. Things happen for a reason. Including you being here. Now, enough talk.”

Kate and Emma both hugged him. Michael hung back, still too ashamed, but Abraham put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“You made a mistake, but you’re a good lad, and your sisters here love you.”

Michael nodded, swallowing thickly. Abraham grasped a handle protruding from the wall. Kate could just discern the outline of the door.

“Remember, run and don’t look back.” And he opened the door, letting in a blast of air and rain, and was gone.

Darkness again. They waited, listening to the cries outside.

Emma fidgeted. “So who do you think this master guy is?”

“I’ve got a few theories,” Michael said.

“Like what?”

Michael paused, straightening his glasses. “I’m not quite ready to share them.”

Emma gave an annoyed huff, but it was obvious she wasn’t really annoyed, that she was glad things were back to how they used to be, with Michael driving her crazy. “I bet you that old man the Countess was talking about was Dr. Pym, though. You haven’t seen him, Michael. He really is a wizard.”

“Really?! Did he do any magic?”

“Well, me and Kate went to see him and he made a fire just like appear, didn’t he, Kate? And I think he’s got a magic pipe.”

“What kind of pipe?”

“How should I know? The magic kind, dummy.”

“I meant, the kind you smoke or the kind you blow into?”

“Duh, the kind you smoke. Does being in the past make everyone stupid?”

Kate kept her ear near the door so she could listen to the sounds outside. But it was hard to concentrate. Her mind kept going back to what the Countess had said.

Did you notice the oldest one, the girl? The book has marked her.

She thought about what had happened in the bedroom, when she and Emma had been looking through photos, how she’d put her hand on the page and then watched as blackness spread across the parchment and up into her fingers. What had it done to her?

“Kate …” Michael touched her arm. “I think Abraham’s led them away.”

There were shouts and commotion from the other side of the house.

Kate took hold of the handle. “I’ll go first. Just keep running. No matter what.”

After the Screecher sent by the Secretary failed to find Kate and her siblings, pandemonium erupted in the dormitory. Children ran about, shouting, jumping on one another’s beds; a few of the younger ones began crying. Chaos reigned for several minutes. Then the door opened, and the Countess walked in. All became very still.

She waved her hand. Instantly, candles were burning along the walls. She smiled, and the children felt themselves pulled toward her.

“Where are they?” Her voice was comforting, sweet.

No one answered.

“I’m not going to hurt them. Goodness! I want to help them! They’re in great danger. Please. Tell me where they went.”

There was something so gentle in the way she spoke. The children would tell her everything, about Abraham, about the secret passages, about Kate and Michael and Emma. She was their friend.

“Where’re who?”

The Countess looked at the boy who’d spoken. Stephen’s jaw was set tight and his arms were crossed. She bent close, letting her perfume drift over him.

“The three who were brought here. Two girls and a boy. Oh, you’re just being silly!” She brushed his hair back playfully. “I know you know who I mean.”

“They ain’t … they ain’t here.”

“Yes, my love, that much I put together myself! Now, where did they go?”

Stephen stared into the beautiful eyes. His fingers gripped his arms. He was fighting hard against the pull. She was the enemy. Like Abraham said. He had to show the others how to resist her. He forced a shrug.

“Dunno. Just disappeared.”

One of the children stifled a laugh. The Countess looked up, her eyes flashing.

“They disappeared?”

“Uh-huh. Like magic or something.”

“Yeah,” another child said. “And there was a bang!”

“And smoke,” said a third. “With lightning!”

“Yeah! We had to jump out a’ the way!”

“I see.” She’d lost them. Somehow they’d found their strength in this boy.

The Secretary rushed in, panting and soaked, his hair webbed against his skull.

“Did you find them?” the Countess snapped.

He shook his head. “Just that crippled fool of a photographer. The lout was drunk again.”

The Countess said: “Release the wolves.”

The children gasped. Even the Secretary looked surprised.

“Milady”—he giggled breathlessly—“forgive me, those beasts are not easy to control. They’ve been starved. Wisely, of course. Makes for more eager hunters. But what’s to stop them from tearing the children limb from limb?”

“I suppose that’s a chance we’ll have to take, isn’t it?” She paused at the door and gestured toward Stephen. “Oh, and have that one taken to the boat.”

“I hate this!” Emma cried as she landed face-first in another puddle. “I hate stupid rain!”

Leaving the house, they’d sprinted the short distance to the trees without seeing a single Screecher, but since then, the going had been slow. The storm had turned the forest floor into a swamp, and their feet kept slipping into puddles or sliding off rain-slick leaves.

Michael had fallen once, and they’d wasted precious minutes searching for his glasses. Emma had been particularly annoyed after she’d reached her hand into a mucky, nasty, wormy hole and the missing glasses turned out to be hanging from Michael’s ear.

All three were soaking wet, extremely muddy, and tired.

As she and Michael helped Emma to her feet, Kate wondered how far they had to go tonight. Where would be safe?

Things seemed truly dismal.

Then they heard the howl.

It wasn’t a Screecher. But it came from the direction of the house. In seconds, there was a chorus of savage cries. Just as quickly, they died off.

Kate said, “They’re coming.”

The children ran like they’d never run before, ignoring the heaviness in their legs, the pain in their sides. Soon, Emma had pulled away. She disappeared through a tangle of bushes. As Kate ducked under a branch, she heard her sister shriek. A second later, she and Michael had pushed through the bushes, and Kate saw for herself.

“No!”

They were on the edge of a cliff, looking out over a dark valley lit up by lightning flashes. It was hundreds of feet to the bottom and nothing but sheer rock walls in either direction. Kate cursed herself, remembering their first day in the orphanage and how they had gone to the waterfall and savored the dizzy, excited rush of watching the river plunge over the cliff. She should’ve realized where they were heading.

Another series of howls from the forest. Whatever was making that noise was getting closer.

“What’re we gonna do?!” Emma cried.

“There!” Twenty yards away, a narrow path twisted down the face of the cliff. Kate had no idea if it went all the way down, but it was their only hope.

“Come on!”

The path was steep and slippery, never more than a couple feet wide and usually much less. It zigzagged back and forth, and the children clung to each other as their shoes slid in the mud and gusts of wind tried to pull them into the void. They descended thirty feet, fifty, seventy-five, the rain lashing their faces.

Bringing up the rear, Kate kept glancing over the side, hoping the valley floor would come into view. If only they could get to the bottom, they would have a chance. They could find a cave to hide in or—

“Kate!”

Emma had stopped and was pointing up the cliff. Kate looked upward as lightning forked across the sky, illuminating the outline of an enormous wolf poised at the top. The creature let loose a howl that echoed over the valley.

“Run!” she screamed.

Any caution that remained was cast away. They raced along the path, their feet miraculously finding the bits of firm earth amid the mud. Thirty more feet—fifty. Kate spared a glance skyward. A half dozen of the creatures were tearing down the path at breakneck speed, headlong and reckless. As Kate watched, the pack collided at a corner, there was a yelp, and one dark body dislodged from the mass.

“Get back!”

She grabbed Emma, and the two of them and Michael flattened themselves against the rock as the flailing, snarling creature fell past, inches away.

“Okay,” she panted, her heart pounding in her throat, “we’re okay.”

“No,” Michael said.

“Yes, we just have to hurry.”

“No! Look!”

Kate peered around Emma to see where he was pointing, and her legs almost gave out. The path continued a few yards, then disappeared into space. Literally just stopped. She felt herself wanting to give up. To sit down and have it be done. But another, stronger voice spoke inside her and said it wasn’t going to end this way. She wouldn’t allow it. Squinting through the rain and darkness, she saw that the path did in fact continue, but twelve feet further on. She quickly weighed their options. The valley floor was finally visible, but it was still a hundred feet straight down. Retreat was hopeless. The wolves were on the path and getting closer with every second. There was no other choice.

“We have to jump!”

“Are you crazy?!” Michael yelled.

“It’s the only way!”

Just then a wolf let out a long, heart-shuddering howl.

“Right,” Michael said, and he turned, took three steps, and leapt into the darkness.

Kate and Emma held their breath as he hung in the air. Luckily, the other part of the path was lower, and he landed with a couple feet to spare, falling forward onto his hands and knees.

Then the lip of the path gave way.

Kate started to scream, but Michael was already scrambling to safety. Not wasting another moment, she turned to Emma. “You’ll have to jump farther. You can do it.”

“I know.” Emma’s eyes had a fierce, determined gleam. She crouched and took off running, kicking back flecks of mud as she threw herself into the air. Michael stood at the edge of the path, ready to catch her if she was short.

Emma landed on top of him.

Kate heard the thud of impact and Michael’s “Oomph!” as they fell in a tangle. She couldn’t help but be impressed. Unfortunately, the impact had caused another two feet of the path to crumble into space.

At the top of her vision, Kate sensed movement and without looking she dropped to the ground. A body passed over her, jaws snapping at the air where she’d been. There was a frenzied yelping as the wolf plunged over the side, unable to stop itself. Kate stood in time to see it disappearing into the darkness below. Looking up, she saw that the rest of the pack wasn’t far behind. There was no time to wait.

She ran the few steps and leapt. But as she jumped, her foot slipped in the mud, and the moment she was airborne, she knew she wasn’t going to make it. She stretched out her arms, but she could see Emma and Michael falling past her, screaming her name as they reached out their hands. It was just too far. But then, miraculously, an enormous gust of wind swept up the face of the cliff and pushed her forward. Her chest slammed into the path. The breath was knocked out of her. She scrabbled for a grip in the mud, but she was sliding backward, falling.

Then two pairs of hands were pulling her to safety.

A moment later, all three children were on their knees in the mud, holding each other, shaking with relief. Even with the rain and the wind, Kate would happily have stayed like that all night. But she knew they still weren’t safe. The leap that had almost killed her would be nothing to a wolf. She pulled away and looked back up the cliff. The pack was rounding the last corner, close enough for the children to hear their harsh animal panting.

“If only I had a sword!” Michael said.

Kate seriously doubted that would’ve done much good, but now wasn’t the time to argue. “Help me.”

She started jumping up and down at the edge of the path. The ground was soft and unsupported and the rain had weakened it even further. Twice Kate slipped as earth fell away, but both times her brother and sister pulled her back. In seconds, the children had widened the gap from fifteen feet to eighteen to twenty until by the time the first wolf launched itself into the air, there was a twenty-five-foot chasm.

And perhaps it was fear, or exhaustion, or the knowledge that if the wolf did reach them, then further flight was pretty much pointless, but the children didn’t run. They just stood there, rain-soaked and mud-splattered, watching the great beast fly toward them.

It’s not enough, Kate thought. He’s gonna make it.

The wolf crashed into the end of the path. The children fell back instinctively, but the animal didn’t attack. Kate saw it hadn’t actually made the jump. The lower half of its body was thrashing in the air as it clawed at the loose rocks and mud, its huge jaws snapping furiously. Then the creature lurched forward, heaving itself upward, its hind legs finding purchase. And just as the cry to run rose in Kate’s throat, four feet of earth gave way, taking the wolf with it.

Kate exhaled, unaware till then that she’d been holding her breath. She squinted through the rain at the three remaining wolves. They were crowded at the end of the path, a growling, quivering mass. She could feel their hunger, but she knew they wouldn’t chance the leap.

“What’s a’ matter, you big chickens!” Emma yelled. “Come and get us!”

The wolves spun about and raced up the path, disappearing into the darkness.

“Look at that!” Emma said, turning to Michael and Kate in triumph. “They’re giving up.”

“Unlikely,” Michael said. “They’re probably looking for another way down.”

“Come on,” Kate said.

It was only another sixty feet to the bottom, and they reached it quickly. The bodies of the wolves who’d fallen lay broken on the rocks. Kate looked up the cliff, but she couldn’t see the rest of the pack.

She heard Emma saying that she bet Miss Crumley had planned all this, and Michael replying that he very much doubted that, and Emma saying something about Michael’s head being shaped like a turnip.

She shut them out and tried to think. It was raining harder than ever. They were all exhausted. She had no idea how long it would take the wolves to find another way down; the question was, should they keep running, or did they immediately start looking for a place to hide?

“Kate …”

“Let me think.”

“Kate.” Emma tugged on her arm. Kate turned.

Thirty yards away, a dark shape was moving over the tops of the boulders.

“Run!”

They broke for the trees. A growl erupted behind them. They struggled up a small rise. Every second, Kate expected to feel the weight of the animal on her back. Keep going, she told herself, just keep going.

Glancing over her shoulder, she emerged from the trees to a clearing at the top of the hill and slammed into Michael and Emma, almost knocking them down.

“Don’t stop! We—”

The words died in her throat. A wolf was crouched in front of them.

For a long moment, no one moved. The creature’s gray fur was matted with rain; its mouth hung open, teeth bared in a hideous grin, as a low growl emanated from its gut. Emma and Michael were frozen. It was up to her to do something. What if she ran right at it? The beast wouldn’t be expecting that. It might give her brother and sister time to get away. The fact that she wouldn’t survive didn’t faze her in the least. Readying herself, Kate saw another wolf step out of the rain, its head low, its eyes fixed and murderous. Then a sound at her back told her the first wolf had closed the circle. And she finally understood: there was nothing she could do. They were going to die here.

“Kate—” Emma said, her voice shaking.

“Hold hands,” Kate said. They did, standing back to back in a circle. “Now close your eyes,” Kate commanded. “Do it!”

Michael and Emma obeyed, but Kate kept her eyes wide open, watching the wolves circle. This was her responsibility. Her failure. She wouldn’t spare herself seeing it through.

She locked eyes with the largest wolf, letting it know she wasn’t afraid. She no longer felt the rain whipping at her face, the fatigue in her body. Her mother flashed through her mind. I’m sorry, Kate thought, I did everything I could.

The animal crouched low, gathering itself.

Kate squeezed Emma’s and Michael’s hands and whispered, “I love you,” as the wolf launched itself into the air.

The animal’s teeth never reached her.

There was the sound of fast, heavy footsteps, of something swinging through the rain. The wolf saw it coming and tried to change directions but was already committed. The object, a long gray blur, was in Kate’s vision for an instant, then it struck the wolf in the head, close and loud enough for Kate to hear the creature’s skull shatter.

Then a man was beside them. He was huge, a giant. His long dark hair obscured his face, and thick chains hung from either wrist. With fierce growls, the two remaining wolves threw themselves at the man. He caught one in midair and broke the creature’s neck with a dull crack. The second fastened itself on the man’s arm, sinking its fangs deep into his flesh. He wrenched the creature away and threw it as a normal person might a cat. It struck a boulder and fell to the ground, dazed. The man took two long strides, put his boot on the animal’s neck, and stepped down. There was a thick crunch. The wolf lay still.

He walked back to the children. Michael and Emma had opened their eyes and were staring up at the man with wonder. He loomed over them, his face hidden in shadow, but even so, Kate recognized him. He was the man who’d attacked the Countess that day at the dam.

He said: “Come with me.”