(Skeleton Key) Into Elurien (11 page)

“Could you come back after she’s dead?” Auphel asked. Zinian looked from her to me, eyebrows raised, a wild hope in his eyes that broke my heart.

“I’ll try. I don’t know anything about magic or how this works, but I will try. And if I can’t, I’ll never forget you.” The lump in my throat choked off any more words, and when Auphel opened her arms, I got mine as far around her as I could and squeezed tight. “I love you, friend. Maybe that’s a silly human thing to say, but I do.”

“I’ll remember you, too,” she said, and released me. She thumped me affectionately on the shoulder, then sighed. “We should go. General Grys said I could come get you as long as we didn’t take too long. I’d hate to make him mad at me again.”

The streets were still quiet as we made our way to the palace. I drank everything in, from the cobblestone streets and pale grey walls of the buildings to the rich scents that rose from the bakery, run by a two-headed creature who made the most amazing treats when he got along with himself well enough to decide what to bake. A baby cried inside one of the little cottages that had once housed humans and were now home to the creatures whose labours had kept the human world alive and thriving for so many years.

The violence of my first days in the city had faded in my memory. I hoped that Auphel’s keeping of the library would be a small step toward making sure that baby would never have to fight for her freedom. Maybe the monsters could keep from repeating the past, as humans seemed doomed to do forever. And maybe they could stay ready to protect themselves from another Verelle, should one ever arise.

Auphel led us to the dungeons. I shivered against the sudden chill in the air, but didn’t step closer to her or Zinian for warmth. This was all business now. We’d had our goodbyes. It was time to let go.

Grys was waiting. So was Jaid, and the scholar Eriel. Jaid approached, tail curved into a question-mark shape behind one shoulder. It was the first time it hadn’t lashed in irritation when she’d seen me. A small change, but a positive one. “Are you ready?”

“I think so,” I lied.

She handed me the key, which felt heavier in my hand than I remembered. “Eriel will explain everything,” Jaid said quietly. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

I looked up into her citrine eyes. The slitted pupils were wide in the dark of the dungeon, giving her a sweeter look than I was accustomed to. “Um… you’re welcome,” I stammered.

“Are you glad to be going home?”

“No.”

She nodded. “Duty, right? I understand that well.” She shook my hand. “I’m almost sorry to see you go. You seem unlike the humans here, and… well, I may have misjudged you. Perhaps you staying wouldn’t have been as terrible as I thought.”

“Thank you. I think I’d have liked to have known you better.” And it was true. Jaid had her scars just as Zinian had his, and they’d made her hate humans more vehemently than he did. But she could look past my physical form, as I could look past hers. I didn’t think we’d ever have been friends, but we could have learned from each other.

Jaid stepped closer to Zinian and laid a hand on his shoulder. She leaned in close enough for her whiskers to tickle his face and whispered something to him. He winced, then nodded, and she let her hand fall.

Eriel took a shuffling step toward me. Her hooves made hollow clopping sounds on the stone floor.

“This is it,” she said. “This door is imbued with new magic. All you need to do is unlock it and step through, and you’ll be home. We don’t know whether the doors work more than once, so try not to hesitate.”

“I won’t.”

Grys snapped his fingers, and a group of twenty armed soldiers clattered around the corner. One carried Zinian’s sword, another Auphel’s axe. They would be ready for Verelle.

“We have soldiers waiting at the spot where she disappeared?” Zinian asked.

“We have. And a few other likely locations. We’re ready.”

Zinian’s long fingers closed tight around the sword’s grip, then relaxed into an easy and familiar hold. He looked at me, questioning. I nodded, and didn’t try to say anything.

I wanted him to have his victory and his freedom as much as I wanted to see my world safe. He deserved that.

“Anything else?” I asked.

Eriel shook her heavy head. “I wish you well. May you find that everything in your world is as it should be, as we hope it will soon be in ours.”

“Thanks.”

My heart hammered as I stepped closer to the door. The key tingled in my hand.

I straightened my bag on my shoulder and felt the weight of the book and the tiny centaur-shaped pull-toy I’d decided at the last moment to take from my apartment.

I was too scared now to feel sad. At least that was something.

I slipped the key into the lock and turned it. The lock opened easily, almost eagerly, with a dull clunk that made my breath catch. I pulled the door open and held the key tight in my hand. If I was ever going to get back to Elurien, I’d need it.

Looking back hadn’t been part of my plan, but I did. Auphel, Zinian, and Jaid stood together, ready to face the enemy they hoped would replace me. But the monsters’ eyes weren’t filled with rage and hate as they’d been the last time I’d seen them standing like this. Now it was sadness I saw there, and regret, and grim determination.

Zinian nodded gently. I turned to the door, gripped my bag tight, and stepped into the familiar darkness.

I
fell longer
and farther than I remembered falling before, and hit a hard surface with a thud. It cracked beneath me, and I slipped sideways. I’d had my eyes closed, but they snapped open as I scrambled to save myself. I grabbed onto a broken-off beam that stuck straight up beside my head.

The view was familiar, and yet not. The landscape of the island opened up around and below me, with no walls blocking the view. But there were no observation towers at this end of the island.

“Oh. Shit.”

I was at the inn—or what was left of it. In fact, I seemed to have returned to the attic and then fallen another level down because there was no floor to support me. I was kneeling precariously on a cracked and tilted section of the boards that had run beneath the old carpets on the third floor. There was nothing around me. No staircase, no hall to follow. The upper levels of the inn, including the attic and the mysterious door, had been destroyed.

The town beyond didn’t look like it was faring much better. Though landmark buildings still stood, several houses were in as rough shape as the inn was. I couldn’t see more than that, but didn’t have much hope that the damage was caused by some kind of freak storm.

No magic here, my ass.
At least she was gone now. I just hoped I wouldn’t have to answer questions about what had happened, and that Verelle was now being properly taken care of in Elurien. She deserved whatever she got.

I leaned out to see whether there were handholds I could use to get down to the second floor, and the beam I was holding snapped. I was too startled to scream as I plunged down, and barely had time to tuck my head close to my chest to try to protect myself before I hit the next floor hard. Bright and burning pain shot up from my right ankle, which had landed first and twisted beneath me.

I cried out at the pain and released a string of curses, then breathed deep to calm my nerves.

At least I’m down.

I reached for my bag, which lay a metre away on the filthy hallway carpet. There were few walls standing on this level, but at least the floor looked mostly solid. I’d be able to make my way to the staircase if I was careful.

I gasped.
The key.
It had been in my hand, but I didn’t have it anymore, and couldn’t see where I’d dropped it.

There
. The key rested at the edge of a massive gap in the floor of what had been one of the inn’s nicer bedrooms. Exposed pipes and wires stuck out from the hole.

I tried to stand, and my ankle buckled. I crawled toward the key.

The attic door was gone, but as long as I had the key, I had hope of returning.
There’s always a door. The scholars said so.
My mouth went dry as I crept over the carpet, which was damp and slimy from exposure to the elements. I clenched my jaw and tested the floor ahead of me before each movement that took me closer to the key.

Please don’t fall. I’m coming.

The floor shifted under me. I froze as I watched the key slip closer to the edge of the hole, then shrieked as the floor beneath my section of carpet crumbled and fell, clattering into a darkness that sounded like it went far deeper than the surface of the ground. My upper body was now supported only by a hammock of ancient carpet.

Shaking, I lay on my stomach and scooted closer until the tips of my fingers grazed the skull end of the key, which had miraculously stayed still. I gritted my teeth.
A little closer…

I touched the key again and cried out as it slipped and tumbled into the black hole.

“No!”

I resisted the urge to dive after it.

I pushed myself to safety and then broke down, sobbing into my scratched-up hands. Maybe there had been no chance of going back. But if there had been, it was gone.

Pull yourself together, girl,
my grandmother’s voice admonished from deep in my memory, not unkindly.

I dragged myself to the stairwell and bumped my way down on my butt, as I would have when I was a little kid. I didn’t fully trust the stairs, or my ankle. The office door at the bottom hung off its hinges and had been cracked down the middle. I went in, afraid of what I’d find, but the room was empty of people or bodies. I found a first aid kit in the desk and did a fair job of wrapping my sprained ankle tight in a tensor bandage. I was able to put some weight on it after that, though the pain persisted. I swallowed two expired ibuprofens dry and put the bottle into my bag.

My town needed me, and I now realized that maybe I needed them, too.

Gladys still rested in her place outside the inn, though the old Volkswagen had taken a few hits from falling debris that had dented her roof and hood. She looked like a foreign object, something from another world. I’d slipped behind the wheel before I remembered that I didn’t have the keys, and that it was unlikely that anyone had fixed her in my absence.

“You’re good for nothing, Gladys,” I said aloud. “But it’s nice to see you again.”

I sat for a few moments to sort through my thoughts and formulate a plan. I needed a solid one now more than ever, but I needed information first. I’d limp into town, find out what had happened, make sure my parents were okay, then do what I could to help with rebuilding.

We had a lot of work to do before tourist season, thanks to Verelle.

I limped deeper into town, which showed no sign that as much time had passed here as had in Elurien. For all I could tell, I’d hardly been gone. Dust blew in tiny tornadoes through the asphalt play area of the school, and I paused. My stomach tightened as I felt something like the tingle I’d caught from the key.

Magic, lingering in our world.

They were wrong about her not having magic here. What if they were wrong about—

A dark speck appeared in the blue sky and flew closer until its wings stood clearly silhouetted. I scrambled under a picnic table and watched in horror as one of Verelle’s angel-soldiers soared over, armed with a golden sword.

Where does one even get a golden sword around here?
I wondered.

Not the point Hazel. Angel. Verelle’s guards.

Verelle.

My breath became shallow, my thoughts jumbled. My chest tightened as though squeezed by giants’ hands.

Not now.
I squeezed my eyes closed, then opened them and forced myself to orient my senses, to recognize the feel of the ground beneath my hands, the damp smell of the ground, the bright green of the new blades of grass that pushed up from the dirt. Real things. Not speculation. Not fear.

The soldiers had lingered in Elurien long after Verelle was gone. Their presence here was a problem, but as long as she was gone and we could get some help from outside, we’d be okay. I wasn’t going to panic. I’d just have to be more careful.

I waited until I was sure the soldier was gone, then limped to the ravine behind the school. At least the trees would provide some cover. I didn’t meet any people hiding in the woods, but a black-and-white cat that lived at the used bookstore chased me down and wound between my legs, tripping me up. He’d never been particularly friendly when I’d worked there during high school. Times had changed.

“Hey, Tomie,” I whispered. “What are you doing out?” That pampered beast had no street smarts. It was a wonder he hadn’t died from lack of heated pillows and liver treats yet.

But of course he didn’t answer in the way I could have reasonably expected in another world. He looked up and let out a loud “MEEERF!” before darting back into the bushes.

The ravine path led me to downtown Fairbrook, which no longer lived up to its name. I stuck to the shadows between the drugstore and the bookshop and took in the damage. It looked like a war zone. Cars lay flipped in the street with their windows smashed, and front rooms of stores had been gutted by fires now burned out.

“Oh, Hazel, what did you do?” I whispered. This was my fault. I hadn’t meant to let a human monster into this world, but my hometown had suffered terribly for my curiosity. Maybe it was for the best that the key was gone. God knew what I might invite in if I tried to go back.

My unease grew as I made my way along the street, keeping my eyes open for signs of friends or enemies. The silence bothered me more than anything. Surely she hadn’t killed everyone. These were humans. Her kind. Even if they lacked the “spark” of the people in her homeland, she’d have found them useful.

I hoped.

I found them in the town square. The square was the hub of the town in summer, swarming with tourists checking out the open-air craft market or enjoying the buskers who drifted in and out of town every summer. Even in the winter it was the social centre of the town, well maintained and well loved.

The pale spring grass on the green had been trampled flat, the high flower beds knocked over. The old-fashioned street-lamps were toppled like lumber. Burn marks marred the colourful siding of every building in sight, and in spite of the brightness of the day, a cloud seemed to hang over the square. The people of Fairbrook stood in a crowd facing the massive steps of the town hall, the only brick building in town. Their heads hung low, but their eyes were fixed on the top of the steps. Whatever had their attention was hidden from me, behind one of the ostentatious marble pillars outside the doors.

I moved closer, into the row of tall bushes in front of the building, creeping as silently as I could. At least the shrubs had been preserved, looking healthier than they should have been so early in the season. Thick leaves provided the perfect cover as I crawled through the dirt and dead foliage beneath, muddying my knees and my hands. When I reached the corner of the steps, I peered up onto the polished wooden porch.

She looked just like her doll. Tall and willowy, golden-haired and fair in every physical sense of the word. Verelle, alive and well and casting imperious glances over her new people as her soldiers paced behind the crowd, keeping them in line.

I fought the nausea that washed over me as I realized just how much deeper and more serious my problems had become.