Button Hill (20 page)

“You did it! Awesome! Hey, what's wrong?” Dekker rushed forward as his sister slumped onto her knees. He put his hands on her shoulders. “You're freezing. And you're gray.”

Riley looked up. Her face was the color of dirty snow. Frost clung to her eyelashes. Her lips had almost no color at all.

“Oh, Riley,” Dekker whispered. “What did you do?”

Riley took a shuddering breath. “It's okay—I'm just cold. Help me up.”

He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “What happened?”

“I could feel the tree in the door. It was asleep. It needed something to wake it up. Somehow I knew I could do it.” Steam rose from the door, and the green light of the tree cast a warm glow into the darkness inside the mountain.

“You're as cold as I am.” He put his hand to her forehead. “Colder even.”

Riley smiled weakly. “At least we got it open.” They entered a low-ceilinged passage. Skulls and bones were packed in tightly on either side, like oranges on a fruit stand. They were frozen together with ice and frost. Riley moved closer to the center of the tunnel, beside her brother. The green light from the tree crept along behind them, following the web of cracks in the stone floor.

After a short distance the passage opened into a square room. The walls were lined with alcoves, and locked in each by ice and frost was a robed and hooded skeleton, head bent as if in meditation. The high ceiling glinted in the dim light that came from the floor. The floor hissed and fissured as the green light seeped into it.

In the center of the room was a dark pit ringed by skulls, and next to it stood a rough iron statue on a plinth of icicles. The statue was cloaked in a heavy vestment that was dark as ink. A thick open book was balanced on one outstretched hand, and an hourglass was clenched sideways in the other fist. The little skellie hesitated at the base of the statue, then retreated and scuttled up Dekker's leg.

Dekker cupped the crab in his hands and returned it to his bag. “Maybe this is it, but I don't see Harper anywhere.”

“Let's try calling again.” Riley leaned back against the statue and called out, “Harper, are you there?” Her voice echoed against the chamber walls.
Are you there, are you there, you there, there?

The ice around the statue's feet split and cracked. The ground rumbled as the robed figure stepped down from its pedestal and in one tremendous stride stood in front of them. Then it spoke. Dekker felt the low voice move through his body as the statue said, “Since time beyond reckoning, I have slept, unsummoned by a Dayside being. Who disturbs me from my long slumber?” Its voice was dust settling in abandoned houses, a candle in the moment it goes out.

“Um, me. Riley. From Button Hill. We're looking for Harper.”

No wind blew, yet the pages of the book resting on the statue's hand began to turn rapidly, stopping near the end. “I am of the powers that be, Riley child. Yes. And your brother.” Its faceless hood turned toward him. “Your coming was foreseen, but the girl is unexpected. Is this your doing, boy?” Dekker couldn't look away. The faceless hood bent closer. Dekker could feel it siphoning the remnants of heat from his body. It was as though the figure were shrouded by a limitless cold.

“No,” said Dekker. “She came to save me. I came to bring her back.”

The statue tilted its open hood toward the book. It seemed to sigh, and the sound was a stone settling at the bottom of a deep metal drum. “You have broken the laws of this realm to come here together. If you had brought her against her will, I would turn your bones to dust, and your soul would remain lost among the graves forever. Your sister is foolish. But her love for you is vast indeed. For this reason only, I shall not destroy you.”

“Do you—do you know where Harper is?” asked Dekker.

The statue answered, and its words seemed to freeze inside Dekker's chest. “Many come to the ossuary in search of things lost and are stopped at the door. Fewer still return from my garden with what they seek. Why do you pursue the daughter of night and day?”

“We need her to get my heart.”

“That is all?”

“And to get Riley home.”

“And that is all?”

“Isn't that enough?”

The statue drew close to Dekker again, until its faceless hood almost touched his nose. “You lie.”

He dropped his gaze to the ground. “And because, well, I wanted to see her again.”

“That's gross!” Riley said.

“Shut up, Riley. You wouldn't understand.” Dekker gasped as more skin begin to shrivel and fall from his forearm. “I mean, I'm sorry, but it's true. I kind of like her.”

Frost swirled around their feet as the statue straightened and stepped back onto its pedestal. Once settled, it consulted the iron book still resting in its outstretched hand. “The inconstant wind has turned the page. I will grant you a riddle. Fail to answer, and you will remain here until the end of time.”

“What if we do answer? Will you help us?” asked Dekker.

The statue swept the hourglass high above its head. Ice crystals formed in the air and began to spin around them. The little storm spun faster and faster until it broke off from the hourglass like a snapped twig. The whirlwind darted toward Dekker like a swarm of bees. He raised his hands, afraid of the twister, and it swirled around his left arm. He shook his arm frantically, but the twister followed, and ice pellets stung his face. In an instant the wind was gone, and Dekker staggered back. He looked at his left arm. All the flesh had been stripped away. From the elbow down, it was nothing but bone.

“Impertinent child,” said the bottomless voice, “that is my gift to you, freely given, to remind you that this is not a game.” The statue loomed above them from its position on the pedestal. “Answer the riddle or remain here. The choice is yours.” At once the air became calm. Aside from Dekker's arm, it was as if the statue had never moved or spoken.

Riley started to whimper. “Look at your arm.”

Dekker flexed his fingers. The bones gleamed white, as if they had been polished by the wind and ice. He turned his hand from side to side.

Riley grabbed his other arm. “What are we going to do?”

“Nothing's changed. We have to keep going.” Dekker reached up, gripped the hourglass with his left hand and swung himself easily onto the pedestal. He balanced on its icy edge and held out his skeletal arm in front of his face. “This is strong. I never could have done that before.”

“Don't fool around,” Riley said. “Just come down from there, and let's go.”

“No, we have to do the riddle or we'll never get out.” Dekker leaned out until he could see the open page of the book. “I can read it.
The man who makes it doesn't need it. The man who buys it doesn't want it. The man who needs it doesn't know it.
That's it.”

Riley pointed. “Look at the hourglass. The sand is moving.” Dekker glanced over. Sure enough, the hourglass had begun to shimmer as the white sand in the top trickled down with a sound like a snake slipping out of its skin.

Dekker jumped down and groaned in frustration. “That's impossible. What could it be?”

“Here, give me the book—quick!” Riley grabbed the manual from Dekker's bag and sat down with it. Her lips moved soundlessly as she flipped through it, page by page. Dekker ran to the alcoves that ringed the hall, hoping for a clue, but the hooded figures remained silent behind their casings of ice. Far too soon, the lower half of the hourglass was almost full.

They heard the ossuary door at the end of the passage boom shut. The floor shuddered and crumbled away from the space in front of the statue. A white stone coffin pushed up between the stones. The lid scraped sideways with a snarl. Fingers of mist spilled out, curling and reaching toward them. Dekker bellowed, “Hurry, Riley, or we're dead!”

“That's it,” Riley screeched. “That's the answer!”

“What?” shouted Dekker.

“A coffin,” yelled Riley. “The answer is a coffin!”

The last of the sand in the hourglass drained to the bottom as she spoke. The mist dissolved like candle smoke. Riley ran to her brother and wrapped her arms around him. When Dekker lifted his head, he saw what was carved into the broad side panel of the coffin, and fear shot through the space in his chest.

“We're too late.”

“What does it say?” asked Riley, without looking up.

“
Here lie Dekker and Riley. Flesh to bones, bones to dust, dust to stone
.”

Twenty

Riley patted her arms and chest with her hands. “I don't feel any different. Just cold.”

Dekker traced the edges of their coffin with his bony hand. “It's not as cold as when we first came in here. Whatever you did to the door is happening to the rest of this place too.” The green light had snaked across to the far side of the room and was slowly making its way up the walls.

Riley gripped his hand. “Dekker, I think our coffin just moved.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean, the lid just moved a little.”

Dekker started to argue, but something inside the coffin banged against the lid, which fell to the side and clattered onto the floor. “Help me!” said a voice inside.

Dekker started forward, but Riley pulled him back. “It could be something bad.”

“How much worse could it get?” He reached into the open coffin with his bone hand and pulled out the body. It made a fist and started pummeling Dekker on the shoulder. “Stop it!” he cried.

The body kept hitting him. “Get lost, you stupid skeleton—my mom commanded you to leave me alone!”

Dekker pushed the body away from him into the light to reveal a thin, frost-covered girl. She stopped hitting him and smiled a sudden, beautiful smile of surprise and relief. “Dekker, it's you—I can't believe you came!”

Riley crossed her arms. “Harper. We thought we might find you here.”

Dekker set her down. “Your mom didn't give us much choice. We bid something impossible to stop her from getting the heart at the auction, but when we wouldn't help her, she tried to lock us up.”

“What did you bid?”

“Dekker said we'd reopen the train station.”

Harper whistled. “You're right, that probably is impossible. Mom says the city's changed since the August Key closed. There are things in the dark now that were never here before.” She grabbed Dekker's left hand and stared at it. “Oh my gosh, what happened to your arm?”

“I'm fine, really.” Dekker turned to the hooded statue that still towered above them, holding its book and hourglass. “We met your chaperone. Charming fellow. When I asked about you, he did this to my arm. Said it was his gift to me—wait, what did I say?” Harper had taken several steps toward the statue, her eyes wide.

“Why are you looking at him like that?” said Riley.

“You met the Keeper of the Lists? And you're unharmed?”

Dekker held up his left arm and waved it. “Unharmed? Hel-lo.”

“Dekker used little skellies to find you, and we had to answer this riddle before the time ran out, and we did it at the last second, but then we thought we were gonna be stuck here forever because you popped out of the ground in this coffin, only we thought it was our coffin 'cause it has our names on it.”

Harper brushed the frost from her jeans and black tank top. “That's how I got trapped in the ossuary. I couldn't answer the riddle.”

“Who is this Keeper of the Lists?” asked Dekker.

“He's one of the old powers of Understory,” said Harper, pointing at the book. “He keeps the list of all the people who die and what's supposed to happen to them after. My mom says he's one of the founders of the city, and that he's been here since way before that. She warned me to stay away from him when she grounded me. But he's been frozen just like everything else whenever I came here before. I don't know why he woke up this time.”

“Maybe you weren't here at the right time.
Waxing Nightshade, for the powers that be
. That's from Auntie's Nightclock rhyme,” said Riley.

Harper raised an eyebrow. “Huh. I never thought of that. Your sister's pretty smart, Dekker. It's a good thing you brought her.”

“I didn't bring her. She came even though I told her not to. We have to get her home.”

Riley put a fist on her hip. “We're both going home. Together.”

Harper studied Riley for a moment and pursed her lips. “Well, first we have to figure out how to get out of the ossuary grounds. Wait—what are little skellies?” She looked at Dekker. “That sounds…unusual.”

Riley dug in the leather bag and pulled one of the skellies out. “These little guys. They dragged Dekker out of the bone sea when he got knocked out.”

Dekker winced. “Shut up about that.”

But Harper only laughed and put out her palm, and the skellie squirmed off Riley's knuckles and into her outstretched hand. “Bonewalkers, they're called. They listen to you?” she said, looking at Dekker.

“
Anyway
, if you two are done chatting, let's get on with getting out of here,” said Riley.

Harper bit her lip again. “If only I had my music box, we might be able to call for some help.”

“Ha! I told you it was going to come in handy.” Riley rummaged through her backpack and produced the white music box she had grabbed from the train before it took Cobb and Harper across the gorge.

“I can't believe you saved it,” Harper said, her eyes wet with tears. “I thought it was lost forever.”

“I thought Dekker's heart was in it, so I grabbed it when everyone was arguing.” Riley held it out, and Harper took it gently.

“This was a gift from my mom, to remember her by, when she sent me to Dayside.”

“I love the butterfly-shaped key,” said Riley.

Harper laughed as she wound it up. “It's not a butterfly—it's two pelvis bones. I guess they do look like a butterfly.” She released the silver key, and the lid snapped open. The skeletal girl and boy began to spin in time to an insistent beat that pulled at Dekker's feet and made him want to move. “Whenever I started missing my mom, I would play this song. It helped me to stay in Dayside. Sometimes when I played this, people I knew would come and visit me.”