Lords of Trillium (19 page)

Eyes wide, Duncan nodded. “Good lad,” whispered Suttor. “Listen to me. I already thought you were dead once. I couldn't bear to go through that again. Just pay attention, all right?”

“All right,” said Duncan softly.

Billycan grasped the thin metal bars of the grate and peered out into the underground chamber. He knew this type of grate. He knew it . . . only this time he was on the other side of it. As a child, he recalled staring at the grates day in and day out, wondering where they led, wondering if they were a way out. These weren't the old cast-iron grates like up in the museum. They were slick and modern.

Without hesitation he slipped his entire arm through the grate and began loosening one of its screws.

“What are you doing?” asked Juniper in a hushed voice. “We have no plan.”

“Then stay here,” said Billycan, placing the first screw on the floor of the vent. He pushed past the others, knelt down and reached for the lowest screw on the other side of the grate. “I, for one, am sick and tired of waiting.”

“It's too risky to go in blind,” said Juniper. “I don't want anyone killed!”

“Then I'll say it again: stay
here
.” Billycan deftly removed another screw, gently placing it on the floor next to the other.

Juniper grabbed Billycan's shoulder, spinning him around. “This is not just
your
fight!”

Billycan turned back to his work and reached up, feeling for the third screw on the other side of the grate. He spoke in an unruffled tone. “In the Catacombs, and well before the Catacombs, I commanded an army. Other than your little insurrection, I always won. Always. I know the ways of warfare. I learned in the lab from my friend and teacher Dorf. Dorf died in that lab. At the time, I wanted to die with him. He was the closest thing I had to a father. They took my friend from me at a time when I needed him most. They left no trace of him, all of his memory erased by the suffocating smell of bleach.”
Billycan removed the third screw, quietly setting it next to the others. “So, if you please, this
is
my fight.” With only one screw left, Billycan softly swung the grate aside and looked down into the space below him. “There is no secret strategy with the humans—no crafty plan we can come up with. They catch us, we die. Whether they kill us on sight or we die from their torturous experiments, the answer is always the same.” His eyes moved over the anxious faces of the others. “Let me check the lab first. I will be the guinea pig, so to speak. I'm going now. I'll signal you if it's all clear.” He craned forward, ready to jump.

“Wait.” Clover pushed forward in the cramped space and stepped in front of Billycan. “You may not care if you lose your life down there, but Julius cares.” She looked up at Juniper. “Your brother cares.” She took Billycan's large paw in her own. “I care, too. I've only just found you, Uncle. I don't want to lose you just yet.”

“Uncle . . .” he repeated in a whisper. He studied her for a moment. “How can you be so forgiving, after all I've done?”

Clover's eyes wandered over Billycan's elongated spine and overgrown neck, made that way by the daily injections. “You were put through terrible horrors. Horrors none of us could ever imagine.” She glanced through the bars of the grate and out into the shadowy lab, hearing the faint murmurs of the captured rats. “I know you can help them . . . not just now, but after they're free. That's when they'll need you most, and that's why you can't die down there.”

Billycan looked down for a moment, trying to keep his composure. Then he looked up and smiled an impossibly confident smile. “I'll be sure to come back, then.”

He gave everyone one last look and silently dropped into the lab.

B
ILLYCAN CROUCHED UNDER A LOFTY WALL OF CAGES
, the metallic clang of countless feet above his head. The air was thick with fear—a scent so palpable any rat with common sense would run for his life. The echoing voices of those awake overlapped, one on top of the other, an eerie amalgamation of treble and bass mixing with the music.

He crept to the edge of the wall of cages and looked out into the dim lab. It seemed endless, far larger than the one he'd lived in. There was a long row of cages down the middle of the lab, and against the wall were workstations covered with large monitors and keyboards. Against the opposing wall were more cages and an open entrance that led to another part of the lab. The space was modern, everything polished and new, the low hum of equipment purring below the music. Stepping out quietly, he looked up at the vent, visible from all sides of the lab. He had to move quickly. He looked up, noticing a row
of windows yards above the cages, too high to be reached by rats
or
humans. It dawned on him. Not only had the humans built a new lab, they'd gone underground, hiding the allegedly bankrupt labs of Prince Pharmaceuticals from their own kind. What sinister work were they up to now, that they had to keep this place a secret?

Other scents began to emerge—familiar scents. Images of the swamp and the rundown chapel flooded his head. His nose twitched wildly. His hackles rose and his mouth watered, the fragile aroma driving him into agitation. He could never forget the mild mix of lemon balm and arrowroot . . . the scent of the big brown bat.

Clutching a metal pole anchored to the base of the wall of cages, he peered around each corner: no humans in sight. He raced across the lab toward the scent, weaving his way under the endless row of cages lest a rat spot him and start a noisy ruckus.

As the scent grew stronger, it evoked a memory of the swamp—Billycan's endless quest for tender bat flesh. He forced himself to recall that he no longer ate bats . . . well, not the ones from Trillium in any case.

His ears perked as he heard the fluttering of wings. Night was the time when bats fed, even in this sterile excuse for a home. The scent of fear waned as he neared the bats 'manmade roosts. They were more practical than rats, less emotional. Billycan respected that.

There they were . . . gliding in tight circles inside a great plastic cage, chasing after large winged beetles blown in through a clear plastic tube at the side of the cage. He cringed at the crunching of insect shells, the sound pouring out from the symmetrically placed air holes in the cage.

Halting at the edge of the last row of rat cages, he watched intently. The bats were graceful creatures, deftly dodging one another, weaving through the synthetic trees, snatching up insects without needing to look at them, their flight guided by the inaudible pulse that only bats could detect. They were actually quite amazing, he thought. It seemed there
was
more to them than just a delectable meal. He watched a rather large fellow, bulky for even a Trillium bat, clip his wing on the branch of a tree and plummet to the ground. Perhaps they
were
nothing more than a tasty snack after all.

Shrouded by shadows, Billycan took his chance and dashed for the corner of the cage where the bat had fallen. The bat's face was dark brown, similar in shape to a rat's, but his nose was slightly pushed in and his long ears were set close to his eyes, looking almost like bat wings themselves.

Silently Billycan approached, slowly popping his head into the bat's line of vision. “Bat,” he whispered. The bat didn't notice him; he shook his head, readying himself to take wing. Billycan raised his voice. “Bat!”

The creature suddenly turned, jolted by the vision of Billycan. He didn't scream or soar away; instead he dragged himself closer to the edge of the cage, trying to get a better look.

“Who are you?” asked the bat, mystified. He glanced up at the long rows of cages across the lab. “You escaped your cage, didn't you? You better leave quickly, before the man comes back.”

“The man?”

“Yes, the man in the white coat. He's here late every night. You should know that by now.”

“Bat, what's your name?”

Narrowing his eyes, the bat cocked his head, inspecting the oversized white rat with only a thin pane of plastic between them. He glanced back at the other bats, all occupied with their
nightly feeding high above his head. “I'm Willow,” he whispered nervously.

“How old are you?” asked Billycan, peering at his boyish face.

“Old enough to know you must be one dense rat, standing in plain sight in a lab run by humans.”

Billycan chuckled at the response. “Point taken.” He looked up at the other bats, still swooping and diving for their insect dinners. “How did you all get captured?” he asked, studying the cage for any visible escape routes.

“It was daytime. I was sleeping at home, in our roost. We all were.” Willow sighed glumly, staring down at the silver tag clamped tightly around his leg, the number 77 etched into the metal. “I heard a noise and opened my eyes. Burning yellow smoke clouded my vision. I tried to fly away, but I was suddenly too weak, like I'd been hit in the chest. The smoke—it made us fall asleep. We woke up in a truck. The next day we were here.”

“So you're not from Trillium, then?” asked Billycan.

“Well, we weren't born here—at least I wasn't, but many of our colony were.” He smiled proudly. “The leader of our colony was. He's the reason we moved away from Trillium in the first place—he kept the farmers from killing us altogether.”

“You and your colony live in a chapel, don't you?” asked Billycan.

“Yes!” replied Willow excitedly. “How did you know that?”

Before Billycan could reply, a bat plunged toward them at breakneck speed. It hurled its body into the plastic pane. Billycan jumped back as the bat grabbed Willow, pulling him away from the edge of the cage. “Don't you touch him!” it screamed bitterly. It was a female with a camel-colored coat and exceptionally large ears set close to her tiny black eyes.

“I mean no harm,” said Billycan.

“No harm, indeed!” She spat at the pane. “How did you find us?” she demanded. “What are you doing here?”

Another bat swooped down, a sturdy male with a pushed-up nose that pointed skyward at a most severe angle. “Telula, Willow, stay back!”

“Don't worry, Cotton,” said Telula.

Billycan held up his paws, trying to quiet them. “Please, keep your voices down. If you get me killed, all will be lost!”

“Oh, and we'd be so disappointed!” said Telula derisively. “By rights you should have died back in the swamp!”

“You have every reason not to believe me, but I'm here to help you.” Billycan pointed toward the vent. “Look. Can you see them from here? There are Nightshade rats waiting in the vent, ready to come down at my signal.”

“Is Juniper up there?” asked Cotton, squinting as he looked at the vent, now hanging slightly askew on the wall. “I see feet, or at least I think it's feet.”

“Yes! Juniper is up there. Vincent, Carn, and Oleander, too.”

“Don't believe him,” said Telula, stepping between her brothers. “You may be Juniper's kin. And yes, we heard the news of your supposed cure from Oleander and Carn. But I'll gamble you're as wicked as ever!”

“What are you three going on about?” asked a stern voice from behind them. “Why, the whole colony can hear your bickering!”

“Father—”

“Hush, Telula,” said the older bat.

Telula snarled in frustration, unfurling her wing in Billycan's direction. “Father, look!”

Slowly Dresden stepped forward. His eyes met Billycan's. He craned forward and studied him closely. He had never imagined he'd see the white rat again—the White Assassin, as
they'd called him in the swamp. “Your eyes,” he finally said, “they're different, subdued. I'd heard the reports—that you'd changed. Our brethren in Tosca, the Canyon Bats, they told me of you, of your good works since Silvius . . . well,
retired
.”

“Father, you can't be serious!” said Telula, aghast. “You actually think his transformation is genuine?”

“Do you think the leader of the Canyon Bat Colony would lie?”

“Well . . . no,” said Telula, “but it may be part of some elaborate plot. You know him—always scheming.”

“You know Silvius?” asked Billycan.

“After he escaped from the lab, he lived on the outskirts of Trillium. He and a few other rats resided on the farmland we came from. We struck up an agreement, he and I. We kept watch for those pesky country cats, and of course the farmers, while Silvius and others helped keep owls away from our colony, scaling trees and destroying their nests—sometimes even fighting them on our behalf.” Dresden shook his head. “I was saddened to hear the news of Silvius's dementia. He was always an ally to the bats. not to mention a dear friend.”

“Father, even if what you say is true, how can you believe
him
?” asked Cotton. “Just a year ago he was dead set on wiping out our entire colony. What if it's all an act?”