Evan Burl and the Falling, Vol. 1-2 (17 page)

Suddenly, out of the twilight, Henri appeared. I threw my arms around her, then stepped back, cheeks flushed.

"What's that for?" she said.

"I was starting to worry you wouldn't come."

"Thought about it." She laughed then stared at the floor. "Better get going."
 

She fell in beside me; lamp in hand, a stub-of-a-candle flickered inside like a clanker with a busted driveshaft. We headed toward the north wing of the castle, climbing stairs, rounding corners, passing rows and rows of veiled statues and stacks of furniture.

"So where did Mazol hide Pearl?" Henri said.

I didn't answer. We arrived at the base of the narrow stairs that lead to the Elusian. We stared up the cheerless stairwell. It seemed to grow longer and narrower.

I stepped to the first stair. "I... just need to get my little clanker. I'll be right back." I saw the Elusian, as if in a dream:
 

Flames and smoke swirled around me, shelves and chairs and broken beams lifted into the air, rock and iron shattered—

"Promise to wait outside when we get to the top?" I said.
 

"Why?"

"Don't ask that. Please."

She pursed her lips. Putting her arm around me, she took some weight off my bad leg. A minute later we stood on the landing. I opened the trap door inside the closet just large enough to slip through.

"What are you hiding from me?" she asked.

"Nothing." What
was
I hiding? The vision of the Elusian, it was just a dream. Those things I saw, they aren't possible, not even with sapience. I... I just... "I'm just tired of you snooping around all the time."
 

But I didn't mean that. I tried to smile. "I'll show you Saturday. I promise."
 

You're so cruel. You'll be gone by then.
 

I ducked through the closet and limped in the direction of the desk. My feet slipped along, like the floor was covered in a thick layer of dust. I could see no more than a few feet in any direction. Something sharp jabbed the bottom of my left foot. Wincing, I stepped sideways and stubbed my other toe.

I could feel eyes on me. The monster was waiting for me to fall asleep so he could take control of my body. Something shifted in the shadows. The creak of wood on stone. I ignored it, bumped into something large in the middle of the room, then finally found the hutch with my knee. Cursing, I found the key and slid the drawer open.
 

This is where we met. Do you remember?

Feeling around inside, I searched for the leather bag. The drawer was empty. Panic rose in my chest. I searched again. Nothing. My hands moved to the desk. Ink bottle. A book. A stack of papers. I knocked a glass jar over; it cracked at my feet. Papers flew. I slammed the drawer shut, pinching my finger.
 

"What did you do with it!" I yelled into the darkness.

My hand found the edge of a leather cord under a few cuts of cloth. I traced the cord to a small leather sack. The rubrics. I exhaled.

I started to shut the drawer, but my hand found the old book. I held it close and found the time code. Twenty-six hours. I shoved my finger in the bottle of ink and wiped over the time. Now it was just a sooty splotch. Turning to leave, I saw a flash of light at the door. Henri stood inside the room, staring at the floor, the little candle lamp shaking in her hand. My eyes darted around the Elusian, stopping on the spot where Henri stared. Something on the floor; I couldn't quite make it out.
 

I squinted.

A list of names.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Cevo

Tearing a mammal into four pieces is like disarticulating a wishbone. Or like an angry crowd on the edge of losing control. You never know which way it is going to go. The people simmered, but perhaps they had more sense than I gave them credit for. Perhaps they did remember me after all.

Mahalelel kept his distance. It had been 29 years, 324 days since I lost my temper with him. Since I last broke my vow. Not once had I lost my temper since then. Not once. This is the new Cevo, Mahalelel. What do you think of me? This is Cevo in control. Cevo with vision. I have seen the world and have seen the future. One where I am the only sapient left alive.
 
Father really did love the others best. But I will be the one alive in the end. Then I will carry this limitless power to my grave, this secret that the world should never have uncovered. Because only I have the self control. Only I can handle the power without pain and destruction raining down on all around me.

So maybe I had given myself a few breaks from the vow in the last thirty years. They were short, inconsequential. And only once or twice. What did it matter? The witnesses have been recalled to their maker. Mahalelel knew nothing of those breaks. He only knew he did not want to stand witness to another.

Greenskins surrounded the crowd and edged forward, spears lowered. Eagles large enough to carry away a child circled overhead, sensing the pending meal. The execution proconsul stared at me.

"What are you waiting for?" I shouted.

Shuffling, he glanced at the crowd, their gritted teeth, their smoldering murmur. Worthless porcus; this proconsul will be chiseling rock with the rest of the slaves by the time the sun sets tonight.

"Lynch the man first if it soothes your conscience." I checked my pocket watch. The proconsul gave a command. Men secured ropes to horses and cinched knots. The proconsul cracked his whip. Horses whinnied, lurching forward. I heard the springy sound of a plucked cithara. The man screamed, then, with a gushing pop, fell silent. I cleaned under my fingernails, peering through the balusters to see which appendage hung from the man's torso. The right leg this time. That makes it 233 for the right leg to 205 for the left. The arms are far less likely. I surmise this has something to do with the tendons and joints in the shoulder being smaller and weaker than the hip.

Eagles swooped down, pecking the man's entrails like men husked piscatus on fishing schooners. Guards batted them away, but the birds were too many. Most of the jura's remains were soon gone.

I moved to the edge of my seat. "Now the girl."
 

The proconsul squirmed like he had nepa crawling in his pants. He glanced sideways at the crowd as his men tied Hagnus's ropes to the horses.
 

"It ain't right!" someone from the crowd yelled.

"You gotta let her go!"

I jumped to my feet. "Ignore them."

The proconsul finally cracked his whip. The ropes went tight, the same plucked-string-note as with the man, but no pop.

Hagnus vibrated, limbs stretched, eyes closed. Lines of concentration formed on her forehead. The proconsul cracked his whip again. Four Clydesdales heaved. The greenskins slapped the horses. One reared up, straining against the rope. It snapped. The horse galloped into the screaming crowd.
 

Using her now free hand, Hagnus ripped the gag from her mouth, eyes locked on me. "Do you wish you'd taken the time to see me now?" she whispered. I heard her as clearly as if she stood next to me. I felt the warmth of Hagnus's skin with my outstretched fingers, turned her head a little left, a little right, so she knew I could snap her in two. How I wanted to twist that little neck, but I had to circumscribe. I must keep the crowd ignorant.
 

It is time for you to commit suicide, little Hagnus. Too bad you do not have time to write a note. I made her free hand rise, grabbing the length of dangling rope. She fought me. Stronger than I guessed she was capable of. But not strong enough.
 

Hagnus wrapped the rope around her neck again and again.

"Help—"
 

Forcing her mouth shut, I felt her voice reverberate into my skin. I tried to make her hand release, to let her body fall. She resisted. I leaned over the handrail, concentrated on her fingers, focused on bending her muscles to my will. Two words escaped from her lips.
 

"Evan Burl!"

My equilibrium tipped. "Quid dicis—" I steadied myself on the handrail. "What did you say?"

She gasped. "I know you're looking for him."

"So what if I am?"

"If you let me live, I'll take you to Evan Burl."

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Evan

Thursday

9:30 pm

25 hours, 19 minutes until the falling

Henri stared at the floor.
 

Her lamp speckled the room with faded orange glow. Burnt furniture, destroyed collections, ashes and soot blanketed the room. She didn't seem to notice the pictures carved on walls and furniture—like ancient cave drawings—the same images, repeated over and over, of how three Roslings met their grizzly ends. A girl hung by her neck out the window. A body in the furnace. A lump of legs and arms curled on the floor.
 

I limped to her side, tucking the book in my belt behind me. I thought about my bloody fingers, the sand and grime I found under my nails this morning, after a six hour blackout. I knew who wrote this list of names, this list of twelve. This list with the first three names crossed out.

—
Little Saye
—

—
Anabelle
—

—
Lucy
—

Pearl

Henrietta

Gertrude

Parkrose

Haller

Roxhill

Othella

Vashion

Ravenna

Three dead. Nine to go.

And Henri's name was next after Pearl.

A voice in my ear.
 

This looks like the list of a murderer.

I tried to lift her chin. "Hey."
 

"Where did this come from?"
 

I caught a glimpse of an engraving behind her, Lucy staring up at the ceiling, her arms spread open as flames consumed her.
 

You're quite the artist.

A migraine burrowed into the bones above my eyes. "I don't know..." I watched her. "Henri, we don't have time to sort this out now."

"What's there to sort? My name's right there." She pointed. "I'm next."
 

If you fall asleep.

"Not now—" I started to say to the monster. Henri glared at me. "I mean... the list could be anything."
 

Why don't you give her a rubric to keep her safe? That helped so well with the Lucy and Anabelle and Pearl...
 

Soft laughter echoed from the stairwell as I pulled the clanker rubric from my pocket. "I want to show you something." I held the rubric out to her. "Pearl needs us."

Shoulders hanging, she looked. Above the word
rubric
it read:

The Blood Pumpery

She held the flicking candle closer as I turned the rubric over. Her back straightened. "What is it?"

"Give me your hand."
 

She jumped at my touch. I placed the rubric in her palm.

"What?"

"Do you feel it?"

She shook her head.

"It's supposed to beat. Like a heart." I squeezed the rubric, rubbing it harder and harder. She put her hand on my arm.
 

I pulled away. "It just needs to warm up." I breathed on it, rubbing more.
 

"Maybe Mazol wasn't lying about Pearl."

I rubbed until my hands were raw. Spiders crawled inside me—I didn't want the clanker to beat. The nightmare had worked me over good, convinced me Pearl was alive; so if he was right about her, he was right about me being the murderer too.

"Did you hear that?" Henri pressed the clanker to her ear.
 

I grabbed at it. She twisted away.
 

"Give it back—"
 

"Shhhh." Thump, thump. The spiders inside me turned into hornets.
 

I told you.
 

My migraine spread.
 

When are you going to start believing me?

A tiny light grew inside the rubric until it saturated Henri's fingers. The beams burst through her skin, revealing the life that pumped through her veins. Sparks escaped from the rubric; burning sawdust floating around us.

"What is that sound?" Henri said.

"Pearl." My voice was as weak as Pearl's heart.
 

"How did you know it would beat?"

"I was worried she's be next—"

"Because she's next on the list," Henri said, her voice quiet.
 

The list you wrote.

I nodded. "I gave her a rubric that's connected to the clanker."

Tell her about me.

"Because of a dream. I just had a feeling—"

Coward.

"Everyone dies," Henri said. "Maybe it's just my time."

She's right.

I took her shaking hand in mine. "Don't say that."

You can't save her.

"Does it matter?" Henri said.

But you can save yourself.

"No—" I said to the monster.

Henri's eyes went wet.

"Of course it matters." I wiped clammy fingers on my pants then pulled her closer. "Do you remember the closet? You said you believe."
 

She gazed up.

"You were right."

"Of course I was right." She stared at me a long moment. "Let's run away. We'll get the Roslings, leave tonight—"

Put her out of her misery.

I rubbed my forehead, trying to stem the pain in my skull. "It's not safe."
 

If you can't do it, I will.

"It's not safe here either," she said.

"We need to find Pearl. The rubric I gave her will tell us what's causing the affliktion. After tomorrow, you'll all be safe here."

"What happens tomorrow?"

"I just have a feeling it will all be over soon."

"But this room. This list..." Henri's eyes fixed on my hands, the crusted blood and the ground fingernails. She covered her mouth and whispered, "It's you. You did this."