Lords of Trillium (11 page)

“I guess you're right,” said Vincent.

“Good lad. No more time to waste.” Vincent took the last step up to the altar, Victor taking his place by his side. Juniper nodded at the official. “We're ready.”

Duncan barreled down the corridors, his heart feeling as if it might rip apart in his chest. He could hear the Kill Army majors thundering behind him. He turned the corner, dashing down the last corridor that led to the city square, the wedding official's raspy voice echoing through the rotunda.

He saw a sea of seated citizens in the distance, Clover
and Vincent above them at the altar, giving him the faintest glimmer of hope that maybe there was still time to stop this.

Gasping desperately for breath, Duncan called out, “Juniper! Cole! The—the prisoners, they're loose! Elvi is—” He heard a loud crack that resounded through his head, his voice losing all power. His whole body launched forward, striking the ground. He couldn't talk or take in air. As he stared at the ceiling of the corridor, a long gray form took shape above him. It was the rat with the yellow eyes.

The rat poked him with a long wooden cudgel. “I do applaud you for trying. You've got more pluck than I thought. Too late, though, lad . . . you're done for.” The rat lifted the cudgel over Duncan's head.

Juniper glanced around the city square. Still no sign of Suttor or his brother. There was no reason for concern, but still it was odd. Suttor was never late. Juniper's ears perked, and his gaze stopped on one of the corridors. He heard a noise that sounded like shouting. He listened intently for a moment. Whatever it was, it was gone. He shook his head and turned back to Clover and Vincent at the altar.

Mother Gallo leaned in close to him. “Everything all right, dear?”

“Yes,” he whispered, patting her paw. He regarded his niece. “She looks beautiful, doesn't she?”

“Our maid of honor, too,” added Mother Gallo, watching Texi smile proudly as she stood at the altar across from Victor, the best man.

The official continued. “Vincent Nightshade, what say you? Do you wish Clover by your side, through good and ghastly, dark and daylight—two rats who build a bond, furthering our kind?”

“I . . . wish it,” said Vincent shakily, more nervous now than he'd ever been even in the most perilous of circumstances. Victor snickered, causing Carn to do the same.

“And do you, Clover Belancort, wish Vincent by your side, through glee and grief, dawn and demise—two rats who build a bond, furthering our kind?”

Clover paused a small moment, taking everything in. She wanted to always remember Vincent's face, her family and friends, the city square—everything—just like it was at this very moment. She took a satisfied breath, then all the hairs on her body suddenly stood on end. A shiver shot up her back as a vaguely familiar sound flooded her ears. “I—” She couldn't make it out at first, but then it was quite clear. She remembered it from four years ago in the Catacombs, the night Vincent and Juniper helped her make her escape—the sound of pounding footsteps, vibrating through the corridors, coming for her. She looked at Vincent. “Do . . . do you hear that?”

He nodded and glanced uneasily around the square. Vincent's gaze fell upon Elvi in the second row. For some reason she'd stood up. Excusing herself politely, she made her way to the center aisle, and as she did so, rat after male rat stood up from the crowd of seated citizens. Vincent recognized many of them; various rats who lived in Nightshade, no one he knew in particular—the types who kept low profiles.

Still seated, Juniper looked up at her from his seat. “Elvi,” he whispered, “what are you doing?”

Silently Elvi nodded at the standing rats. From their hiding places in cloaks, under chairs, ensnared in the flowers, weapon after weapon materialized in the paws of the rats. And these weren't just
any
weapons. Steel swords, hunting knives, battle-axes, and etched silver daggers just like the one Elvi carried—which she quickly revealed to the murmuring crowd and held
up to Juniper's neck, forcing him to his feet. “I just sharpened it,” she said, “so don't try anything.”

Several armed rats swarmed the front rows, warning the Council and any other rat who might dare come to Juniper's aid to stay put.

“Elvi,” said Mother Gallo, focusing on the dagger at her husband's throat, “what's the meaning of this?”

Elvi ripped off her black cloak, revealing her full form, something she hadn't done since returning from Tosca.

Even with the dagger aimed at him, Juniper slowly took a step back. A dark patch near Elvi's gray stomach traveled around her back, drenching nearly half of her in solid black.

Citizens took to their feet—and not just any citizens, but those who had been part of Killdeer's army, found innocent of wrongdoing by Nightshade's security. One such rat, a former major, jumped to his feet, looking as though he might be ill. “He-Hecate,” he called out in a strangled voice, searching the crowd for other former majors. “She's
alive
!” One of Hecate's rats quickly pounced on him, knocking him out cold with the hilt of his sword.

Texi looked on in confusion. “Elvi?”

Smiling pleasantly, Hecate looked up at her on the altar and hurled a dagger in her direction. Texi caught it instinctively. “My name is Hecate.” Her Toscan accent had evaporated. “High Major Hecate.”

“You're . . . you're not Elvi?” Texi's eyes widened in horror. “You
lied
?”

“Yes, my dear. I
had
to. I was part of your great brother's army. You were too young to remember me. All this time, I've been waiting to reclaim what was his—to bring back the High Ministry to its former glory, to pick up where he left off.”

“Why . . . why would you want to do that?” asked Texi, tears
trickling down her cheeks. “My brother was not a good rat. He was bad. You said so yourself!”

“I had to say such things, but dearest girl, Killdeer was a good rat,” said Hecate, keeping her eyes and dagger trained on Juniper. “Killdeer allowed me to prove myself, to show my strength, when no one else would. Without his teachings, I never would have survived in Tosca, biding my time until I could return to take back what he so unfairly lost.”

Clover's face fell in misery. She'd been so defensive of Elvi, never allowing Vincent to speak ill of her when they were searching for the traitor last year. She looked at Vincent. “You were right all along.”

He took her paw. “I never wanted to be.”

“All the signs were right in front of me, all this time,” said Juniper. “You've been acting so strange these past months, so very different from the sweet little girl I knew from the Catacombs.” He looked regretfully at his citizens. “I'm such a fool.”

Hecate laughed. “You're telling me.” She nodded at one of her rats, who let out a long, piercing whistle. Within seconds the yellow-eyed rat emerged from a corridor, followed by former Kill Army High Majors Foiber and Schnauss, along with their cohorts from the prison corridor. Armed with knives and clubs, they rushed the city square.

Citizens screamed as Schnauss made his way down the aisle, snarling and spitting just as he had in the Catacombs, his dead eye drifting aimlessly in its socket. Dragging his loose, hairless skin, Foiber stomped behind him, cursing, waving his knife recklessly. Citizens cowered in their chairs, parents shielded their little ones.

“Thank you, High Major Ragwort,” said Hecate as the yellow-eyed rat approached her.

He nodded with deference. “Yes, High Minister.”

Schnauss and Foiber grinned cunningly at Juniper. “This somehow feels
familiar
,” remarked Foiber. “I was in this exact situation years ago, only it was you who did the surprising back then. My, how the tables have turned. I'd spend a lifetime in your prison corridor to have this moment of satisfaction, to see the stupefied look upon your scarred face.”

Hecate looked at Vincent, who shifted anxiously on his feet, eyeing Juniper for a signal. “Texi, if you please, hold your knife to Vincent's throat.”

“What?” said Texi. “I—I can't. Elvi, please.”

“You will be helping him,” replied Hecate, “allowing him to remain unharmed. Young male rats are unpredictable. They sometimes do silly things which will get them . . . 
hurt
.”

Swallowing, Clover nodded at Texi. “It's all right, Texi,” she said in the calmest voice she could muster. She let go of Vincent's paw. “Do as she says.”

Of his own accord, Vincent took two steps down, allowing Texi to stand above him on the stairs and hold the knife to his throat. “I'm so sorry,” she said weakly.

“Don't be sorry, Texi,” whispered Vincent. “You're doing nothing wrong. It's Elvi—or whatever her name is—who is to blame. She's tricked all of us. Please, don't let her trick you again.”

Ulrich couldn't take it anymore. He was distraught that he'd never spotted Elvi's deception, and that she'd had her hooks in Texi all this time. He bolted to his feet. “Do you really think your little scheme will work?” he shouted. “Do you really think we'll allow you to go back to the old ways?” Two guards grabbed for him, as did Ragan, trying to stop his brother from getting hurt. “High Minister, my backside!” A guard punched him in the ribs, but he would not relent. “Trilok was the real High Minister—the
only
High Minister!” The guard kicked
Ragan in the chest, hurling him back in his chair, while the other tripped Ulrich, knocking him to the ground, an ax aimed at his forehead.

“Ulrich!” yelled Texi.

Hecate held up her paw. “It's all right,” she said to the guard. “Let
former
Chief of Security Ulrich speak.” The guards dragged Ulrich to his feet and pushed him in front of her. Her mouth curved into a satisfied smirk as she spoke. “After all, if I'm not mistaken, it was you and your brother who enjoyed my tea
most
of all.”

Her words struck Ulrich like a slap to the face. He stood before her and closed his eyes for a moment. Why had he never picked up on it before? He should have known! “The tea,” he said dimly, trying to keep himself together. “All along, it was your tea. It clouded our thoughts, didn't it? Softened our judgment, bending us to your will.”

“Ah, at long last one of you fools figures it out,” said Hecate. “You're a real detective, aren't you? Too bad it took you so long.” She smiled at Texi. “These rats don't deserve you. They have no spirit, not like yours, my little lion.”

The majors laughed as Texi trembled, trying to blink her tears away. Ulrich looked up at her. “Texi, don't listen to her, understand?” He looked at the other Council members. “We're your friends. We care about you. She only cares about herself.”

“You all but
gave
her to me,” said Hecate. “None of you wanted to be troubled with poor pitiful Texi anymore. All of you were only too glad to shove her off on me!”

“Shut your deceitful mouth!” shouted Ulrich. “We trusted you. Texi admired you, but it was all a lie! Why, that senseless moth you keep caged in your quarters is of more value than you! You are nothing to her—you are nothing to any of us!”

In a flash, Hecate took the knife aimed at Juniper and
slashed Ulrich across his cheek, cutting him all the way to his lip.

“How's that for nothing?” she said.

He let out a wrathful howl, grabbing the side of his face, his paw quickly drenched in blood. He snarled at her and spat disdainfully on her feet.

Vincent yelled from the altar, “I spent most of my young life in the Catacombs, afraid every second, but no more! I for one will never be afraid again!” He looked right at Hecate. “I
knew
you were up to something all along! I always knew! Everyone, fight back—fight for our home!”

Major Ragwort bolted up the stairs to the altar. He growled angrily, diving fist-first onto Vincent, hitting him squarely in the jaw. “It's our home now, rat!” Clover rushed the major, plowing into his chest as Vincent hit the floor. Victor joined her; grabbing Ragwort by his ears, he wrenched the major down face-first to the floor.

Juniper wasted no time. He grabbed Hecate by the arm and reached for her knife, trying to twist it from her paw. Hecate screeched wildly, kicking and thrashing. With her free paw she clawed at Juniper's face, ripping at his eye patch.

In a flash Mother Gallo came at Hecate, sinking her teeth into her wrist before the dagger could make contact with Juniper's face. Hecate screamed for Foiber and Schnauss, who lunged at Mother Gallo with their weapons, but the Council had already jumped into the fray. They were unarmed; their claws would have to do.

Jumping onto his chair, Cole kicked a major in the snout and leaped on top of Schnauss, grabbing him around his waist and hurling the menacing high major to ground. He slashed at Schnauss's face with his claws, striking him in the nose until he heard bone crack. Schnauss moaned in pain, dropping his
dagger as he tried to cover his face. Foiber came for Cole, his knife plunging into the floor over and over as Cole writhed on the ground trying to get Schnauss's dagger, the knife barely missing him each time. Foiber laughed as though it were a game. Virden came from behind him and grabbed folds of his sagging, hairless skin, twisting it tight. The major screamed, cursing and spitting as Virden twisted the skin behind his neck. Foiber threw his arms up, clawing at Virden's face. Cole snatched up Schnauss's dagger and ripped into Foiber's thigh with it, cutting him down to the bone.

Foiber fell to the ground, dragging himself into an aisle for protection. “You mangy Loyalists! You sickening, spineless hairballs!”

Cole laughed riotously. “You yellow-bellied, foul-mouthed sack of plague-ridden flesh, cowering on your knees among the rats you once so proudly abused!” Citizens came at Foiber from all sides, kicking him in the ribs, digging the claws of their feet into his cracked, infected skin as Hecate's rats jumped on top of the citizens, pulling them off the high major.