The Hound of Rowan (18 page)

Mr. Vincenti took his seat at the head and rang his wineglass.

“I'd like to propose a little toast.”

The students reached for their wineglasses filled with apple cider.

“To a month under the belts and young minds on the move!”

The glasses clinked, and even Miss Boon managed a smile as Mr. Vincenti began quizzing the group about the more memorable experiences to date.

“Any mathematicians in this bunch?”

They all tossed out David's name, except for Jesse, who offered his own.

“Who's a whiz at science?”

Sarah blushed as her name was called.

“Any budding ambassadors or diplomats among us?”

Everyone screamed, “Connor!” who received the accolade with typical bravura, wiping away fake tears.

As Mr. Vincenti continued rattling off the subjects, waiters brought steaming plates and baskets of food. Warm squares of thick cornbread, sizzling crab cakes, and plates of cod and perch drizzled with lemon were set on the table. Max nearly spit out a mouthful of sweet potatoes when Lucia and Cynthia reenacted one of Connor's many efforts to impress the older girls on campus. Even Mr. Vincenti put down his fork to laugh as Lucia swaggered about the room, sucking in her tummy and lowering her voice.

An hour into the meal, the group laughter gave way to smaller conversations; Max watched as their hostess entered the room and bent down to whisper into Mr. Vincenti's ear. Mr. Vincenti excused himself and continued their conversation in the hallway.

As soon as Mr. Vincenti left, Miss Boon turned to Max.

“You know,” she said quietly, “I happened to overhear Nigel mention to Ms. Richter that the tapestry you discovered involved the Cattle Raid of Cooley?”

“Yeah,” said Max, distracted. His eyes wandered back to where he could see Mr. Vincenti's very still shadow in the hallway. Something was wrong.

“Max,” she said tersely. “Say ‘yes.' Has Sir Wesley told you that ‘yeah' is not proper English and that it's rude not to look at someone when he or she is speaking to you?”

Max flicked his eyes back toward her face.

“I'm sorry,” he said.

“That's all right,” she said, her voice softening. “Have you taken the time to read up on the Cattle Raid or its hero, Cúchulain?”

Max shook his head. “No, Miss Boon, I haven't had time.” He reached for a piece of cornbread.

“Listen to me, Max,” said Miss Boon, placing an icy hand on Max's arm. He looked directly at her, her young features so serious and strange with their mismatched eyes. “That vision was tailored to
you.
It's very important that you understand everything you can about its history and symbols. Cúchulain was a great hero and champion—people called him the Hound of Ulster for the way he guarded their kingdom, but he had to make some awful choices along the way. It would be best if you knew them, Max.”

Max stared at her; his mind flashed with thoughts of his recurring dream of the monstrous wolfhound. He decided against sharing this with Miss Boon; her gaze and grip were too intense for his comfort.

Just then, Mr. Vincenti rejoined them from the hallway. His voice rose well above the many conversations.

“We have a change of plans. I need everyone to place their utensils on their plates and follow me. Quickly.”

“But, Mr. Vincenti,” said Connor, “you have to come see what Omar can do with his—”

“Right now, Mr. Lynch!”
thundered Mr. Vincenti, who circled around the table physically hoisting the confused children from their seats. Without a word, Miss Boon rose swiftly and started pulling the children's chairs away from the table, herding them out the door and down the hallway.

Their hostess was standing by the doorway looking frightened. “Be careful, Joseph. Be careful, Hazel,” she whispered, dimming the house's lights. Other First Years hurried out from the other dining rooms, accompanied by their advisors. A dozen limousines were parked in the street, their doors open and engines running as the hostess locked the door behind them.

Max crowded into the second limousine. Mr. Vincenti slammed the back door shut, and the car raced down the street toward Rowan's gates. The street looked abandoned; all the shops and stores were dark. As they passed the church, Max thought he saw a pair of dark figures melt off its lawn to disappear behind a hedge. A few seconds later, he was thrown to the side as the limousine made a sharp turn and screeched through the gate. They wound through the trees and along the sea before coming to a jarring halt near the fountain. Max's heart froze as he heard the familiar awful wailing coming from the direction of the
Kestrel.

Mr. Vincenti opened the door and ushered the children out as Nolan galloped from around the Manse seated astride YaYa. There was nothing old or broken about her now, Max noted. Steam billowed from the ki-rin's nostrils, her massive head craning from side to side to scan the grounds with eyes that glowed white in the darkness. And Max had never seen the normally cheery Nolan so grim. The groundskeeper shouted over the distant keening sound.

“Joseph, get the children inside. You and Hazel are to take up your assigned positions along the perimeter—Director's orders.”

The Manse was a frenzy of shouts and slamming doors. Max, David, and Connor sprinted past a pair of Sixth Years who stood guard at the entrance to their hallway. The older students ordered them to lock themselves in their rooms and to be quiet. When Max and David turned to close their door, they saw Connor blocking their doorway.

“I'm coming in with you two!” he hissed. “My roommates are wankers!”

Connor hurried inside and Max shut the door, making double sure it was locked tight.

         

The minutes and hours ticked by at a crawl. Unable to concentrate, Max tossed his sketchbook aside as David and Connor played cards downstairs. Hearing muffled sounds from the hallway, Max got up from his bed to investigate. Connor and David stood on the stairs to the lower level, wrapped in blankets and looking frightened, as Max listened at the door. Hearing footsteps and whispers outside, Max turned to them and put his finger to his lips. Holding his breath, he silently turned the knob and peeked out into the hallway.

A small group of First and Second Years were pressed against the window at the end of the hall. Max beckoned to David and Connor, and the three of them joined the group. Rolf stepped aside to let Max peer out the window; he leaned forward to press his forehead against the cold glass.

Lanterns bobbed about the dark grounds in pairs as the faculty combed the orchard, lawns, and gardens. Away in the woods, Max saw more lanterns peeking from among the trees. He whispered to a Second Year standing next to him.

“Have you guys seen anything?”

The Second Year shook his head and motioned for quiet. Suddenly, someone at the end gasped,
“Something's happening!”

Max was smooshed against the window as the crowd surged forward. Below, the lanterns bobbed wildly, rapidly converging at a point near the orchard's edge. A huge plume of flame erupted at the spot. Max and the other boys gave out a yell.

Something monstrous and wolf-shaped was illuminated by the sudden burst of light. It took several hunched, uneven steps on its hind legs before dropping to all fours and racing across the lawn toward the forest and the road.

“Get back in your rooms!”

Max whirled to see the two Sixth Years hurrying angrily down the hall. The boys scattered to their rooms in a sudden flurry of shuffling feet and slamming doors. Max and David ran down the steps to their bedroom's lower level. Connor flew in a moment later, locking the door behind him, his eyes wide.

“Did you guys see it? I saw it!”

“I'm not ever leaving this room,” whispered David.

The three sat in silence for several minutes. Max shivered, replaying the image of the terrifying shape lowering itself to the grass and galloping across the grounds. He looked up at the sky dome, watching Scorpio twinkle into view.

“What do you think that was?” he asked softly.

“I don't know,” said David, rubbing his temples. “I don't want to know.”

“Maybe it was a werewolf,” volunteered Connor. “Like in the movies.”

“That didn't look like any werewolf I ever saw in the movies,” quavered Max. “It was a lot worse. And it looked bigger….”

         

A loud knock on the door woke Max from his sleep. Blinking, he looked around the room. Connor was asleep on one of the couches. David was huddled near the fireplace, a shapeless lump underneath his blanket. There were three more knocks, quick and decisive. Max lurched to his feet and climbed the stairs, halting at the door.

“Who is it?” he ventured, his voice slow and wary.

“It's Joseph Vincenti, Max. The danger has passed. Ms. Richter would like everyone to come to the orchard. It's chilly, so bring a jacket or a robe.”

Mr. Vincenti moved down the hall, rapping on the next door. Within a few minutes, Max had woken Connor and David. The three boys shuffled sleepily with the other Apprentices out the back doors to the orchard, where the sky was a pale wash of blue in anticipation of the sunrise.

Ms. Richter stood near the first row of trees, flanked by the faculty and a dozen other adults. The hushed conversations ceased immediately as Ms. Richter's voice filled the morning air.

“Students, we have had a loss. Another golden apple graces this orchard—all too prematurely, I'm afraid.”

Max watched as several older students began whispering and scanning over the faculty with worried expressions. The Director shook her head.

“No,” she said. “Our loss did not occur on this campus. We lost a member of our Recruiting staff: Miss Isabelle May, whom many of you undoubtedly met during your tests for admittance here.”

There was stunned silence among the students. With a solemn face, Ms. Richter continued.

“We do not, as of yet, know what happened to Miss May. Our last communication with her was one week ago, despite our best efforts to contact her since. We have been monitoring her Class Tree anxiously throughout. Mr. Morrow made the unfortunate discovery before dinner last night. Miss May's apple has turned to gold.”

Several older students hugged one another. Max saw Lucia wipe tears from her eyes; he guessed that it had been Miss May who had recruited her.

Ms. Richter raised her arms for quiet.

“Shortly after we lost Isabelle, something triggered the defenses of this campus. While I apologize for actions that might have confused or frightened you, they were necessary precautions. For the first time in Rowan's history, this campus has been penetrated by agents of the Enemy.”

The student body erupted in sideways looks and whispers.

“They are gone now,” Ms. Richter assured them, her voice silencing the students, “and you may rest assured that all our resources will be mustered to determine exactly what has happened and what steps are necessary to ensure your safety. Until that time, no student is to leave this campus for any reason whatsoever. Failure to mind this rule will result in expulsion. Is this clear?”

Max found himself nodding and saying “Yes, Director” along with everyone else. Rubbing his arms, he realized he had forgotten to bring a jacket, and the early-morning air was unseasonably cool.

An older girl raised her hand.

“How could they be here?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Rowan is supposed to be
hidden
from the Enemy! What does this mean?”

Ms. Richter's glance was stern, her voice sharp.

“It means we have entered a time of danger.”

                  
10                  

T
HE
C
OURSE

I
n the weeks that followed, all students had to travel in pairs, and Rowan Township was off-limits. Faculty and older students volunteered for evening patrols and as security escorts for the younger students. Most notable were the strange adults that had arrived on campus. They flitted through the woods, appeared suddenly in corridors, and stood watch throughout the campus. The students were assured that these individuals were present for their safety but that they were not to be approached or bothered. Among them was one particularly alarming man with a badly burned face. It soon became something of a dare to cross his path at night as he walked quietly across the grounds in his black knit cap and peacoat, swinging a shuttered lantern. His name was Cooper, and Max was afraid of him.

After two tense weeks, Max was working alongside his study group in a small room off the Bacon Library. Despite recent events, the faculty had decided to keep the midterm schedule, and Max needed to score well on several of the exams. He took a handful of popcorn from Cynthia, then grumbled at his math notebook; only half of his responses matched those in the answer key.

Max yawned. It was getting late and he still had to feed Nick. As he gathered his things and zipped up his fleece, David peeked up from reading a book on the couch.

“Are you going to the Sanctuary?” he asked.

“Yeah,” said Max, stretching. “Want to come?”

“Nope. I'm going to bed. You should get an escort to go with you, though.”

David returned to his book. Sarah looked up suddenly.

“I'll go with you, if you want. Just let me get my coat,” she said, snapping her book shut.

Lucia grinned and tossed a popcorn kernel at Cynthia, who glanced sideways from her book. Max looked at Connor, who merely raised his eyebrows.

“Uh, sure,” said Max. “Thanks, Sarah.”

Sarah smiled and left the room. Max turned to the others.

“What are all of you smiling about?” he asked, glancing from face to face.

“C'mon, Max,” scoffed Connor. “She likes you.”

“No, she doesn't,” Max protested.

“Sure,” giggled Cynthia. “That's why she
always
picks you in Games and sits next to you in every class. Believe me—she's not trying to copy
your
homework!”

Max glared at her.

“Sorry,” pleaded Cynthia, laughing again and feigning interest in her reading.

Lucia put down her pen and snorted. Her English had improved tremendously, but now she spoke so rapidly that Max had trouble understanding her. He heard something about him being a baby and Sarah being beautiful and smart, but it was the word “festival” that caught his attention.

“What did you say about the festival?”

Lucia narrowed her eyes.

“I said she is too good for you and that you are very lucky to go to the Halloween festival with her!”

Max shot a terrified glance over his shoulder at the door.

“What are you talking about?” he hissed. “Sarah's going to
ask me to be her date for Halloween
?”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Cynthia chimed in. “Sarah's far too old-fashioned for that.”

Max exhaled.

“She'll simply let you know that she wants
you
to ask
her,
” Cynthia added, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

“But—” Max halted in mid-sentence as Sarah reentered the room, wearing a hooded windbreaker.

“Are you ready?” she asked, walking past and waiting by the door. David rested his book on his face as Connor chuckled. Max followed her down the hall, wiping his palms hard against his fleece.

Except for a brief stretch of Indian summer, the days had been getting steadily cooler. Sarah walked the path next to Max, fiddling with a series of beaded bracelets.

“So,” she said, “I've never really seen Nick up close before. What's he like?”

“Oh, he's okay,” replied Max quickly. “He eats a ton, though, and he likes to attack me.”

“Really?” She laughed.

“He also gets pretty angry if I show up late,” added Max. “He's already shredded a couple sweaters.”

“Are you late tonight?” asked Sarah, with a playful note in her voice.

Max gave a sheepish nod as they hurried up the main path through the wood.

Just then, a dark figure rose up from the nearby underbrush, shining a lantern on their faces.

Max took a step backward. It was Cooper, dressed all in black with a stocking cap pulled low. Max stood frozen, his eyes fixed on the taut, shiny scars that disfigured half the man's face.

Sarah was furious.

“How dare you come popping out of the dark like that?” she said, her voice sharp.

Cooper said nothing; he merely gazed impassively at them.

“Well?” she demanded. “Are you going to be a gentleman and apologize for frightening us?”

“Sarah,” Max whispered, “don't make him angry!”

Slowly, Cooper's ruined features contorted into a sort of smirk. He doffed his stocking cap politely, revealing a head that had also been badly burnt. The scalp was left with only a few straw-colored patches of hair like ragged shoots of pale wheat. He shuttered the lantern and made his way quietly through the underbrush toward one of the shaded side paths.

Max and Sarah continued toward the Sanctuary. Max did not speak until they had shut its heavy door behind them.

“That guy seriously creeps me out.”

“Well, of course he does!” shot Sarah. “Sneaking up on students at night! I should say something to Miss Boon.”

“Yeah, but his
face
—”

“—gives him no right to frighten people! I'm sorry he was burned, but life goes on.”

Sarah regained her composure and lingered near the opening. Her long neck and profile made a very regal silhouette against the intertwining branches. She turned to him, her eyes as dark and glittering as a doe's.

“You know, Max, I never thanked you for getting me out of the water that night when we were on the
Kestrel.
”

“Oh,” said Max. “It was no big thing. Anyway, you just saved me from the bogeyman, so we're even!”

He tried a weak laugh while Sarah adjusted her bracelet.

“Well,” she said. “Thank you.”

Leaning forward, she gave him a soft little kiss on the cheek. Max simply stood there, registering briefly that she smelled like perfumed soap. Stepping back, Sarah smiled at him before stepping out into the clearing. He lagged behind, conscious of his reddening cheeks and thankful for the darkness.

Nick was already pacing about his stall, gnawing at the base of its small tree. Sarah helped deflect his anger; the prospect of having someone new to chase seemed sufficient to appease him. Sarah laughed as she tried to outdistance Nick, who would crouch low, flicking his tail from side to side, before suddenly bolting after her. She shrieked as he quickly closed the gap, his pelt glinting red as he streaked across the clearing. Meanwhile, Max cleaned out Nick's stall and loaded up the wheelbarrow with his dinner.

Setting the crates near the lagoon, Max called Nick, who abandoned an opportunity to ambush Sarah and came hurtling out of the darkness. Sarah came trotting back, holding her side and panting.

“Oh, I love Nick!” she exclaimed. “He's adorable!”

“Hmmm. See if you find
this
adorable,” Max said, opening a crate teeming with foot-long rats. The rats scattered in every direction and Nick was after them. His tail fluttered and his claws were a blur as he chased them down and eviscerated each with a swipe of his paws or a violent shake of his head. Sarah groaned as half a rat landed near her shoe. Nick trotted over and nuzzled it closer to her with his bloody snout.

“He likes you!” offered Max from where he crouched, sorting metal bars into small stacks. “He didn't offer me anything the first couple of times.”

“Wonderful,” Sarah said before gagging.

After wolfing down the rats, Nick waddled over and spent the next half hour alternating between the miniature ingots and the gallons of wriggling night crawlers. The lymrill then took a flying leap into the lagoon, frightening away several herons that had been sleeping among the reeds. A few minutes later, Nick emerged from the water, looking very sleek and sleepy. Climbing up on the wheelbarrow, he collapsed on the jumble of crates, claws extended and snoring, as Max labored to push it all uphill.

Sarah peeked in on her charge, the beautifully plumed peacock, before strolling over to where Max slung the comatose lymrill over a low branch in his stall.

“Hey,” said Sarah, grabbing his hand, “let's try something!”

Sarah pulled Max over to the feeding bin and cleared her throat.

“Food for Max McDaniels: twelve-year-old boy with a sweet tooth.”

The bin shook, its lid rattling against the latch as golden light streamed out.

“Sarah, I don't want to eat anything that comes out of that thing!”

“Oh, hush!” said Sarah, smiling as she watched the bin. “Let's see what it offers!”

The bin stopped rattling and the golden light subsided. Sarah flipped the latch and lifted the lid. Suddenly, three heads emerged from the bin, belonging to three very angry little imps in spattered chef 's uniforms. They shook their fists at Sarah and Max.

“Not for students! Not for students!” they chimed as they flung small handfuls of garbage and rotten vegetables. Sarah burst into laughter and shouted apologies over her shoulder as they ran down the hall and out the door.

They closed the Sanctuary gate and continued toward the Manse. Max was conscious of the fact that her hand had a way of brushing his occasionally as they walked along. Old Tom chimed eleven o'clock, the notes rolling across the campus while they walked through autumn leaves that drifted down in shaky little spirals.