The Hound of Rowan (13 page)

“The one tonight,” said Anna, “out on the
Kestrel.
Didn't anyone tell you?”

“No,” said Connor, leaning closer. “What's it all about?”

“It's kind of a First Year tradition, for class bonding,” answered Sasha. “The First Years sneak out and spend the night on the
Kestrel.
Out by midnight, back by sunrise.”

“Isn't that against the rules?” asked Omar, wide-eyed.

“Yes and no,” answered Alex. “According to ‘the rules,' the
Kestrel
's off-limits, but the tradition's been around a long time. As long as you're careful and quiet, the faculty looks the other way.”

“I don't know,” murmured Cynthia, looking nervous.

“It's your decision,” Anna said, shrugging. “We had a great time last year. If you want to be the first class not to do it, though…”

“We didn't say that,” said Connor, his eyes flashing. “C'mon, guys, let's do it. It'll be fun.”

Connor's smile was contagious, and soon the others were grinning, too. They looked from one to another and nodded.

“Okay,” muttered Rolf. “I'll bring some snacks.”

“I've got a radio,” volunteered Lucia.

“Everybody bring a sleeping bag or some blankets, a pillow, and a flashlight if you have one,” whispered Connor. “Pass it on to the other tables. We'll meet near the stairs down to the beach at midnight. Go in ones or twos and don't get caught!”

Turning to Alex and Anna, Connor continued.

“Can we just get aboard the
Kestrel
? Isn't it locked or something?”

“Nope,” said Alex. “Just tiptoe down the dock and climb the rope ladder on the side. It's a really cool ship and it's pretty warm tonight. You guys are lucky; it rained on us last year.”

“But it was still fun!” chirped Anna, smiling and standing up. “Nice to meet you all. Can't wait to hear about it tomorrow.” She and the others rejoined the table of Second Years.

Max was excited at the prospect of a secret sneak-out. He spent several minutes planning with the group before he saw Mr. Vincenti making a beeline for him from the faculty table.

“Sorry to interrupt,” said the elderly man with a smile. “Max, could I speak with you?”

“Sure,” said Max, fearful that their planning had been overheard. Mr. Vincenti ushered him away from the table to a nearby pillar.

“Max, the Director would like to have a word with you,” said Mr. Vincenti, “concerning certain events…events that happened before you arrived at Rowan.”

“Oh,” said Max. “But I have to go to the Sanctuary—my charge is nocturnal.”

“This is more important,” said Mr. Vincenti. “I'll see that your charge is cared for. You'd best get going—she's expecting you.”

Ms. Richter's office was located off the foyer, at the end of a hallway decorated by glistening portraits of past Directors. The door was slightly ajar, letting a sliver of warm yellow light into the hall. Max's heart beat quickly as he knocked.

“Come in.”

Max entered and saw Ms. Richter hanging up her blue robes. She still wore a business suit, although she had removed her shoes and stood in stocking feet. She offered Max a tired smile and gestured toward a polished armchair across from an enormous desk. Max was surprised by the relative modesty of the room. Other than the desk, it had a small couch and a coffee table with several small chairs. French doors led out to some gardens near the orchard. A small hearth stood cold and quiet in the corner.

Max seated himself as Ms. Richter arranged some wildflowers from the feast in a crystal vase. She eased into a leather chair and leaned forward to extend her hand, her bright silver eyes snapping Max to attention. Her hand was warm and dry and strong.

“Hello, Max. It's nice to meet you and chat one on one.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” he said.

Ms. Richter rested her elbows on the desk, her eyes assuming a deadly seriousness.

“Max, it is unacceptable that the Enemy knew who you were and how to find you. You represent a new generation at Rowan, and I shudder to think of the consequences should the Enemy find the means to identify and target our Potentials.”

Max nodded, trying not to betray that he knew seventeen Potentials and a student were
already
missing.

“I want you to tell me everything that has happened starting with the day you had your vision. Anything you can remember. Spare no detail, no matter how trivial you think it may be.”

Max told Ms. Richter everything he knew. Her questions came quickly, forcing him to search his memory and recall details he had forgotten. When he had concluded, Ms. Richter picked up a folder and opened it. She glanced quickly at its contents before selecting a photograph and holding it up for Max to see.

“Is this the man that has been following you?” she asked.

Max squinted at the picture and recoiled in shock. The figure was indeed the strange man from the train and the museum, although he looked younger and less haggard in the photograph. He was sitting at a sidewalk café holding a newspaper, but his gaze was directed at the camera. The man's good eye displayed a mixture of alarm and rage as he had evidently just spied the photographer, who, from the look of the photo, was in a moving car. Max shut his eyes and nodded. Ms. Richter put the photograph away.

“I'm sorry to frighten you, Max,” she said, her features softening, “but I needed to confirm Nigel's account. That's all I need at present. I'd ask you not to speak of this matter with anyone until we have more information. Okay?”

“Okay. Can I go now?”

“You can go, but, Max, I need you to remember something.”

“Yes, Ms. Richter?”

The Director's expression became deadly serious again. She spoke in tight, urgent tones.

“If you ever see that man again, I want you to run and call for help as loudly as you can. Do not answer or speak to him; it could be very dangerous. Do you understand?”

Max nodded mutely, his insides frozen. Ms. Richter got up from her chair and ushered him out the door, suggesting that he swing by the kitchen for some cocoa. But as soon as she closed the door, Max ran down the hall and up to his room.

         

David was dead asleep when Max and Connor began to shake him. He blinked several times before flipping over and burying his head under a pillow. Max hissed between his teeth.

“David! C'mon, David. Wake up! We're camping out on the
Kestrel.
Remember?”

“No need to whisper, Max,” laughed Connor. “You're still in your room!”

Connor jumped up and landed on David, who gave a muffled groan.

“C'mon, Davie! It'll be fun. Ladies and adventure on the high seas, eh!”

“Okay, okay. Get off of me,” pleaded David's voice from beneath the pillow.

Max clutched several blankets and a flashlight as the three stole down the hallway. Reaching the foyer, they nearly bumped into Cynthia and Lucia, who were tiptoeing toward the door. Connor motioned for them to go first, and the pair slipped quietly outside. Several moments later, Connor turned to Max and David, his grin visible in the dark.

“You boys ready?” he whispered. “Stick close to the Manse and stay low until we're beyond the lights. When you have to leave the house, crawl—you'll cast a smaller shadow. When we reach the grass, we'll run the rest of the way.”

Max nodded and moved past Connor to the door. Sticking his head outside, he turned and motioned for them to follow. The three hugged the perimeter of the Manse, crouching below the windows, and crawled to the grass. Max found it hard going while carrying their blankets and the flashlight. One by one, they rose and ran into the darkness.

The night air felt cool as Max raced along. Old Tom and Maggie were given a wide berth; several of their upper windows were lit with a pale green light.

As they reached the steps, they saw many silhouettes moving against the moonlit ocean. A few dozen students were already there, whispering excitedly and tallying the goodies that had been brought. Omar and Jesse came panting up a few minutes later. Connor scanned the group and furrowed his brow.

“Where's everyone else?”

“A bunch of people aren't coming,” said a girl. “They don't want to get in trouble.”

Connor rolled his eyes and made a noise in his throat before starting down the stone steps. Max swatted a mosquito and hefted his pack, laughing with Cynthia as they followed along.

It was a peaceful night, gentle waves lapping at the
Kestrel,
which rose black and tall on the water. Connor turned on his flashlight and jogged down the dock, the light bobbing wildly as the others trotted after. He stopped abruptly and Max heard him swear. As they caught up to him, Max saw why: the
Kestrel did
have a rope ladder hanging from its side, but the ship itself was moored fifteen feet away. They would have to swim to it. The water looked inky and cold. Connor kicked a wooden post.

“They might have told us about this!” he fumed.

“Let's just forget it,” muttered Rolf, looking back toward the stone steps set in the cliff.

“I am
not
going in the ocean at night,” a girl said, and shuddered, peering over the dock at the water.

“Yeah,” said another boy. “I vote we head back.”

Max stood quietly, watching the ship, as the others debated what to do. He noticed that its rocking motion brought it closer at regular intervals.

Max backed away down the dock. For several seconds, he studied the ship's movement in the water. When he saw its mooring chain begin to slacken, he sprinted toward the edge and leapt high into the air.

For a moment he thought he had misjudged badly.

He plummeted toward the water, grabbing wildly for the rope ladder as he fell. With a sudden snag, his fingers caught it and he crashed against the side of the ship. There were surprised gasps and cheers from the dock as his feet scrambled for a hold and he began climbing. Swinging over the ship's side, he spilled onto the deck, rolling over something hard and uncomfortable. He looked to see what it was and smiled, standing to cup his hands around his mouth.

“Hey!” he called back to the dock. “There's a gangplank on the deck—no one has to swim!”

The others began chattering; the atmosphere was electric once again. Grunting from the weight, Max swung the gangplank over the ship's side and fed it slowly toward the dock, where Sarah and Rolf reached out to grab it. Securing the end of the plank into its groove, Max signaled it was ready. They proceeded in single file; Connor was first up, carrying Max's gear with his own.

“You've got some serious springs, don't ya, Max?” Connor grinned, dropping the gear on deck and looking around.

“Yeah, I call Max for my basketball team!” piped David, who began rummaging through Rolf 's pack for snacks, to the visible annoyance of its owner.

The students fanned out and began exploring up and down the deck. Several took turns playing with the wheel. Lucia and Cynthia crawled up to a crow's nest, raining hard candies down on the rest as they spread out blankets and sleeping bags. Connor strolled toward the cabin, returning shortly with a disappointed expression on his face.

“There are locks on all the doors and hatches; looks like we're staying above.”

“That's fine by me,” squeaked a girl from Denmark. “It's probably scary down there!”

“I'll bet it's cool down there,” said Connor wistfully. He took a seat on a nearby blanket and turned on someone's radio, quickly lowering the volume as an opera singer blared an impressive tremolo. He began scrolling through the stations.

Soon all of them had settled down in their impromptu campsite. Huddling in a small group as the boat rocked, Max laughed and played cards and devoured Rolf 's snacks while he learned about his classmates' hometowns and families. Omar was telling Max about his baby brother back in Cairo when the boat pitched wildly.

Playing cards slid across the deck. The masts creaked noisily and the children stopped talking.

For a moment all was silent again. Then the boat shuddered as a massive wave rose beneath it, crashing the children into one another as they scrambled for a hold.

Thump.

Thump, thump.

Something was thudding loudly against the side of the ship, below the waterline.

The children felt the boat strain against its moorings. Lucia shrieked as the gangplank slipped from its hold and splashed into the water. Max looked frantically over the railing to see something,
anything
that would indicate what was churning the sea. All he saw was swirling, fathomless black.

Keening wails suddenly filled the air, causing Max to fall back onto the deck as the others covered their ears. The
Kestrel
now bobbed like a toy boat as seawater frothed and spilled in foamy waves over the sides.