Button Hill (7 page)

He cleared his throat. “Welcome to Tilted Station.”

Dekker looked more closely at him. “Are you the station agent?”

The tall figure returned his gaze through heavy lids. “I am the passage minder here, yes. I've not seen you before.” He turned to Harper and shook a finger at her. “You, though, I remember. Careful, Miss. This is the borderland, and that fellow who follows you isn't the worst thing that can find its way here.”

“Thanks—that's very reassuring,” she said.

“Tickets for the Eventide train? It might get you where you need to go.”

Dekker cleared his throat. “We're not ready to leave yet. Harper said you could help us find what we're looking for.”

“Well, then, what are you looking for, young traveler?” asked the gaunt figure.

“Riley—my sister. Blond hair. About this tall.” Dekker held his hand at chest height.

The station agent rattled as he pulled a heavy book down from a shelf. “Sorry, can't say that I've seen her. But you never can tell what you'll find on the train. The train that travels the night track is too unpredictable for Daysiders. It'd be safer to try at sunrise.”

“Can't wait that long,” said Dekker. “I need to find her before the Nightclock strikes midnight. If I don't, we'll be stuck here forever.”

The station agent raised an eyebrow. “The Nightclock, you say? In Button Hill? If it has begun to mark the time again, then the Witching Hour will be dangerous for you indeed.”

“Isn't there any way you can help us?”

“You can board the Eventide train when it arrives. I know the conductor. Full of schemes, that one. You might find what you need on the train. I'll print you each a ticket so you can board and take a look. The train stops here for fifteen minutes before it moves down the line. But if it leaves and you're still on it, you're bound to ride to the next stop.”

Dekker swallowed hard and whispered, “Where's the next stop?”

“Hard to say.” The station agent flipped open the logbook on the counter and ran his skeletal fingers along a series of entries. “Depends on the passengers—which way they're inclined. One track leads to many places, maybe home, maybe somewhere new. The other travels to Understory.”

“Understory?” Dekker swallowed.

The station agent nodded. “City of the dead. Not for Daysiders. It's no place for the living. Is it, Miss?”

Harper said nothing and looked away. After a moment, the station agent passed each of them a bright silver ticket. “Keep that with you,” he cautioned. “You'll be thrown off if you don't have it. That conductor is a petty fellow. I should know—he's my brother. Now you'll have to excuse me. I must prepare for the passengers.” He stepped back from the window and swept out the door a moment later, long blue coat billowing out behind, his oversized boots clunking on the platform.

A loud train whistle cut through the night. The platform vibrated under Dekker's feet. The tracks squealed, and a steely silver engine rushed out of the darkness. The brakes roared, and a long line of passenger cars shuddered to a stop in front of Dekker and Harper.

“Let's go,” said Dekker.

As they approached, the conductor stepped from the train. He was much like the station agent: same size, same posture. But as he looked up, they saw he had no face at all, just a skull. A bright flame danced inside the oil-burning lantern hooked inside his rib cage. His finger bones unfurled toward them, facing up. “Tickets, please.” His jaw clacked out the words between loose teeth. They passed their tickets to him, and he tore them in half. He passed one half back, rolled up the other and pushed one into each eye socket. “Don't lose your stubs,” he said, and before they could change their minds, he thrust out an arm and ushered them up the metal steps.

Dekker stepped past him into the car. Weak running lights on either side of the aisle were the only illumination. The air was unnaturally still. People sat crowded together at narrow tables, but no one was talking and no one was looking at anyone else. No one looked out the windows. Old women with gaunt faces sat next to men who seemed too thin for their suits. Dekker looked around for Harper, but she had vanished. He began to walk uncertainly down the aisle. As he moved, he could feel eyes on him. Dekker swallowed hard and walked faster.

As he neared the end of the car, a small-boned woman in a colorless sweater grabbed his wrist. Her eyes were wide with fear. “Please—what happens next?” she whispered.

Dekker pulled away. “I don't know. I think you ride the train.”

“To…to where?” Her voice stuck in her throat, and her frightened eyes tracked Dekker as he began to back down the aisle.

“I don't know,” he said. “I'm sorry.” Dekker sprinted away from the woman to the end of the car and frantically twisted the handle of the door. It swung open suddenly, and Dekker stumbled onto the empty platform between cars. He slammed the door shut behind him.

He felt a sharp tap on his shoulder. “Jeez!” he shouted as he whirled around. Standing over him was the conductor. The ticket stubs stuffed in his eye sockets reflected the yellow glow of the lantern in his rib cage. “You scared the life out of me! Can you let me through? I made a mistake—I need to get off the train.”

The skeleton surveyed him and stuck his hand out, palm bones up. “Ticket, please. Everyone on board needs a ticket.”

Dekker searched his pockets frantically and found his half. He handed it to the conductor.

The skeletal figure nimbly fished a stub out of his eye socket and held the torn ends together to make a match. Dekker held out his hand to take back his stub. The conductor turned Dekker's hand toward his glowing rib cage and looked at the shadowy mark on his palm. “You lost someone. Someone special.”

Dekker's heart lifted. “My sister. Tell me where she is!”

The conductor ran a cold finger bone around the edges of the mark on Dekker's hand. The bone was rough, like sandpaper. “You can get her back. The Nightclock has marked you, and there will be a price. There's always a price.”

“I don't care—I'll pay it. Just tell me where she is!”

The skeleton stepped to the side so Dekker could pass. “As you say. Stairs at the end of the next car. No need to rush though. Some passengers find the view from the windows quite enlightening.” His jawbone clacked as Dekker hurried past him.

Dekker entered an empty passenger car. It was lined with booths, dimly lit by hanging lamps. He heard the conductor ring his bell. A movement outside caught his eye. Dekker leaned across the seats to look out. All was dark. He moved closer to the glass. A shape loomed out of the dark, white as the moon. “Riley!”

Dekker tried to unlock the emergency latch, but in his haste he smacked his forehead on the hanging lamp, and it began to swing crazily. The light shorted out as it arced toward the window, and for a moment Dekker could see outside clearly. It was not his sister outside the train car, but an image of her in black and white, standing on Aunt Primrose's porch. The light flickered back on, and the image was lost to the night.

The train juddered beneath Dekker's feet. He felt the car begin to move. He leaned forward, trying to get another glimpse of his sister. The car went dark. This time Dekker saw Cobb and Riley playing a board game at the kitchen table in Aunt Primrose's house in Nightside. Cobb turned and leered at him, his black eyes caught in the flare of the lamp as power returned to the car.

Dekker stumbled backward as the train began to pick up speed. Something tugged hard on his right shoulder, and he fell away from the window. “Hurry up, you idiot. The train is leaving the station! We have to get off!” Harper was yanking him toward the rear of the car.

Dekker glanced out the window on the station side of the train. “No!” He ran down the aisle behind Harper. They raced through the door at the end of the car and out onto the steps. The train was about to roll by the last boards of the platform. They jumped, landing on the wooden planks with a crash. As he stood, Dekker heard the train whistle into the night. He watched the engine drop down into the valley, the other cars trailing like a kite string.

“You made it, barely.” The station agent was standing behind them.

Dekker glared at him. “You people can't keep sneaking up on me like that.”

The figure only shrugged. “Did you find what you needed?”

“I think I know where my sister is. She was playing a game with Cobb.” Dekker shook his head. “I don't know why I didn't think of it before. He wants to be with us, live with us. And that means he's headed to Aunt Primrose's house.” Dekker turned and looked back at where they'd come from, across the field. He could see the house silhouetted in pale light, small as a toy. He touched Harper's arm. “Come on. We have to get back before it's too late, or we'll be stuck here with Cobb forever.”

The station agent interrupted them as they made to leave. “Mr. Cobb, you say? Well, well. I haven't heard that name in a very long while.”

“Do you know him?” asked Dekker.

“Oh yes. Always after something he lost long ago. A shadow creature, he is, without remorse. You say you've entered into a wager with him? You're not the first.” The figure glanced about with sad eyes at the empty platform. “Be sure you understand the terms of his bargain. I'd venture he wants more than to trap you here in the borderland.”

“What does he want then?” asked Harper.

Dekker's mind flitted through all that Cobb has said when they made their deal. The realization of what he had agreed to suddenly hit him, and his stomach lurched. “He doesn't want us to stay with him in Nightside. He wants to take my place in Dayside.”

“Oh no,” whispered Harper.

Dekker forced the leaden feeling back down his throat. “We just have to make sure he doesn't win. That creep doesn't get to be me.” Then he jumped down onto the tracks and started toward the house at a run.

Eight

They slowed as they circled the tall hedge walls of the garden, but there was no sign of Cobb or his soldiers. Moonlight shone across the house, so that the porch roof seemed to be caving in on itself in the shadow. The windows were black, except for one on the second floor. “How are we going to get in there without Cobb noticing us?” Harper asked.

“I've been thinking about that. There's a vegetable chute somewhere near the house that leads into the root cellar. I don't think he knows about it.”

Harper nodded. “It's worth a try.”

They got down on their hands and knees and searched beside the house for the entrance. “Here it is,” said Harper. She grunted as she pulled on a round brass knob centered in a square wooden panel. “Help me lift it. This thing is heavy.” Dekker crouched beside her, and together they heaved it out of the way.

They peered into the hole. A feeble glow came from the bottom, like moonlight reflected in a well. Dekker lowered himself into the chute. The air inside the tunnel was moist and rotten. He dropped to the floor of the root cellar, landing with a thud and rolling to the side. “Get down here—you've got to see this.”

Harper's shoes squeaked against the boards, and a moment later she landed beside him.

“Are you okay?” Dekker asked.

She dusted herself off. “Fine.”

“Look at that.” The light they had noticed from above was coming from the well. They felt their hair lift as a breeze wafted in the direction of the chute, then sucked back the other way, toward the well, with a sigh. Harper gripped Dekker's arm, and they stepped away from the hole. The pale blue glow remained above the shaft, casting a fragile light toward the stairs.

Dekker pointed at the well. “That's how I ended up in Nightside. Do you think we could escape that way?”

Harper closed her eyes and became still for a moment, as if listening to a faraway sound. She opened her eyes and shook her head. “I don't think so. The well is a way between Nightside and Dayside, but it needs power to open it. It feels closed to me. Look at the Nightclock—the skull is almost right side up. Dekker, it's almost the Witching Hour!”

Dekker looked at the mark on his palm; it had transformed from a dark blob into an almost perfect half-skull. A strange combination of excitement at finding Riley and fear of losing her swirled inside him. “Come on,” he said, and they hurried up the stone stairs that led out of the cellar.

The cellar door creaked noisily as they slid it to the side. They climbed the last few steps and peered into the basement. A light was on near the stairs that led up to the kitchen.

“So how are we going to sneak through the rest of the house?”

Dekker cleared his throat. “Well, um…I mean… what I mean is that I planned to sneak in through the cellar. Which we did. And then sneak up to the bedrooms. And then…you know.”

Harper turned to face him. “And then what? I assumed you had some sort of plan.”

Dekker's cheeks burned. “Well, I sort of hoped that Cobb wouldn't be here, so we could get Riley and your music box and sneak out without anyone noticing. And if he does show up, well, maybe we could distract him with something, like before?” Hopefully, he held up Riley's pink backpack.

Harper sighed. “All right, how about you start here, and I'll go upstairs. Give me the walkie-talkie. If I run into trouble, I'll call you.”

Dekker passed Harper a handset from Riley's backpack and watched as she sneaked up the stairs and into the kitchen. He walked over to the wooden rolltop desk in the corner of the basement. He turned the key that stuck out of the lock, and the rolltop slid up smoothly. Inside the desk lay a large leather-bound book. The cover was embossed with a title in dark letters:
Tilted Station—Schedules.
Dust scattered as Dekker opened the heavy volume. The pages inside were brittle, and as he turned them, bits crumbled from their edges. It looked like a handwritten phone book, with columns of dates, times and passenger names scrawled in dark ink. Dekker hit the button on the walkie-talkie. “Harper, do you read me? I found an old train logbook. Some of these entries are from about a hundred years ago. There's a Miss Primrose on the first page.”