Lords of Trillium (2 page)

He laughed softly. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he'd be here, in this moment, in
this
place! Something had driven him to come here, though, an urge he could not explain. As instinctively as birds migrate south for winter or spiders spin their intricate webs, he'd landed here as if he'd known the way all along. Though he'd arrived only a year ago, he was already in command. Once again the masses seemed to gravitate to him. He marveled at his influence. What made so many follow
him
, of all rats?

He snorted. After all that had transpired, he'd been looking for a life of solitude, but here he was running a kingdom. Once, he'd relished his power, but now . . .

Someone was coming! As the footsteps drew closer, he ducked into a corner, making sure his snaky tail and long feet were hidden from view. Oh, this was going to be good. He was really going to petrify this rat, whoever the unlucky soul was. He sniffed the air. It was a male. Billycan grinned, barely able to keep still, a fire burning inside him that he hadn't felt in some time. The sheer terror might just kill the poor fellow.

“It's hard to imagine the Topsiders ever thought highly of us,” said Clover, standing over an open journal. “It seems they've
always
hated us, trying to eradicate us with their traps and
poisons. I mean, we moved underground in the first place to get away from
them
.”

Last year Oleander and Carn, later joined by Clover, Vincent, and the rest of the young Council members, had begun retrieving all the journals and letters from the swamp. The books and papers had been left by the Trillium scientists who had lived there. Members of Dresden's colony of bats had been helping transport the journals back to Nightshade. Clover and Vincent pored over them, enthralled.

Vincent scratched behind his ear, finding a small piece of apple skin he'd missed while cleaning himself after his earlier altercation with the raccoon. “Well, Juniper seems to think they're not all so bad. I remember . . . the little boy in the brownstone. That night changed our lives. Without his help, I don't know how things would have turned out.”

“True,” said Clover, “but I wonder how he feels about us now . . . four years older.”

Vincent smiled. “Well . . . it's been four years for me as well, and I still think
he's
all right.”

“When I read some of these entries about the founders of Trillium City, it's hard to believe humans could be anything
but
cruel.” Clover walked over to another journal and glowered at the open pages. “Did you read this one?” She pointed an accusing claw at the entry. “It says here Trillium's founders legalized something called ‘ratting.' They used us for sport at their public houses—setting us loose in makeshift fighting rings so dogs could tear us apart! The dog who killed the most of us was proclaimed the winner—lining his master's pockets in the process.”

“Yes, it's all very upsetting,” said Vincent, “but . . . did you read the
entire
journal?” He gave her a shrewd grin.

“Well, no . . . not yet,” Clover replied.

Vincent flipped through the journal to one of the very last pages. He pointed to the center paragraph. “Read.”

Clover eyed the page skeptically. Suddenly she leaned in close. She read the last few sentences out loud. “ ‘A small group of angry citizens protested outside City Hall for days, claiming the sport to be inhumane not only to the rats, but the dogs as well, owing to the fact that on frequent occasions Trillium rats would collectively go after a dog, maiming it before a single rat could be harmed. Once again, Trillium rats have proved that they are not only strong, but clever. Rather than scatter and risk dying separately, united they were able to defeat the dog.' ” She looked up at Vincent. “Some of the Topsiders actually
tried
to stop these fights, thinking them unjust?”

Vincent nodded. “It wasn't only the scientists who moved to the swamp who were on our side. Some Topsiders thought
all
creatures should have the same right to live that humans do.”

“Do you think any Topsiders still feel that way?”

“Well, those Topsiders—the ones who broke into the lab and freed Billycan and the others—they seemed to feel we were worth something . . . and that wasn't all that long ago.” He stared vacantly at the heavy door that led back to the Catacombs. “Animal rights activists, that's what they're called. I read some of them won't even eat meat. Can you imagine that? So I guess there are some who still feel it's not right to kill living creatures of any kind—even rats.”

“Do you think the Topsiders—the humans—are the ones targeting us?”

“I'm not sure. What if there's some unseen enemy out there, someone who hates us even more than humans?” Vincent thought about who could hate them so much. He glanced down at his leg, never the same since that night in the Catacombs when Billycan freed him from the heavy silver chalice, Killdeer's former throne,
that had fallen on him. After his broken bone finally healed he was left with a slight limp, and when the weather was foul, which was often in Trillium, his knee would ache.

“How is your leg feeling?”

Vincent shrugged.

“Have you changed your mind about Billycan after all that's happened? I mean, he saved your life that night. He saved all our lives. His change for the better . . . it was
real
, don't you think?”

Vincent let out a long breath and took a seat on the edge of a stack of journals. “I'm thankful to be alive.” He smiled. “To be here with
you
. But it still doesn't wipe away what he did—to my family and so many others.”

“Of course not,” said Clover. “I just wonder how much blame you can put on someone who was under the control of something else. Those stories about his supernatural powers, his ability to possess rats, force them under his control. It turns out
he
was the one who was possessed.
He
was the one under the control of that terrible drug from the Topsiders' lab.”

“I
know
you're right,” Vincent finally said. “I suppose it feels like I'm betraying my family's memory by being even a little understanding of what happened to him. As though I'm saying their deaths meant nothing.”

“No one thinks that,” she replied softly. “Your family wouldn't think that.” Clover took Vincent's chin in her paw and held it gently, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “Vincent, what would your father do? What would Julius Nightshade do?”

Vincent smiled wanly at her. “He'd forgive him.”

“In the name of the Saints!” roared Juniper, just dodging a silver dagger as it whizzed by his snout.

“Oh dear!” said Texi, covering her heart with a trembling paw. “Juniper, are you all right?”

Juniper walked up to the wooden target affixed to the wall and wrenched out the dagger that had landed dead center. Taking a deep breath, he regarded the blade. “I'm fine,” he said, looking back at the wall. “Your target, on the other hand, has seen better days. I thought you were old Batiste after my head as a Hallowtide treat.” He grinned, nodding toward the door of the Council Chamber. “For everyone's sake, lock this door from now on if you're practicing, all right? I've only one eye left and I'd like to keep it, if you don't mind.”

Texi suddenly gasped. “Juniper, your arm, you're wounded!”

“No worries,” said Juniper, staring at the gash. “Vincent and I had a slight disagreement with an ill-tempered raccoon.” He chuckled. “If you think this is bad, you should see the raccoon.”

“Were you looking for the lost Hunters again? Did you discover anything?”

“Only to steer clear of raccoons brandishing apples, I'm afraid.” He handed Texi her dagger. “You've become rather an impressive shot. I daresay you might give Vincent and Victor a run for their money.”

“Elvi has me practicing day and night,” replied Texi proudly.

Juniper cocked his head. “Why is she having you work on your defense skills?”

“She says it's good for my confidence.”

“I suppose.” Juniper looked Texi up and down. She'd changed. She was certainly more self-assured, and for that he was glad. After she'd helped Killdeer's insane sisters kidnap little Julius, her punishment had been to shadow Elvi, to be her apprentice. Texi had taken to Elvi's ways like a fish to water, even wearing a little black cloak just like her mentor's. No
longer meek and seemingly slow-minded, as many had pegged her, Texi had become a smaller version of Elvi. Juniper wasn't sure how he felt about that. He wanted Texi to find out who
she
was, not imitate someone else. Then again, she
was
doing much better, bolder, more confident, just as he and Mother Gallo had hoped. Everyone had noticed the change.

“Elvi said it's vital that a rat know how to protect herself,” added Texi, staring down at the blade. “She said one never knows what can happen.” Her eyes widened. “There are enemies
all
around us, and sometimes those enemies are staring you right in the face—you just don't know it.”

Juniper's brow furrowed. “I've never known Elvi to take such a dark view of things, but then again, all those years she spent in Tosca . . . She was around your age when she was forced onto that boat during the Great Flood. She wasn't prepared for what life had in store for her, surviving in that jungle on her own. Luckily, she made it out alive.”

“To be strong in mind, one must be strong in body,” Texi recited.

“I suppose Elvi said that, too.”

Nodding her head, Texi glanced at his wounded arm. “Juniper, do you think we'll ever find the lost Hunters?”

“I don't know,” he replied gravely. “But I'll find them or die trying. Everyone on the Council is trying to figure out where they might be. Speaking of the Council, Ulrich misses you.”

“I haven't seen him for a while. Elvi said I mustn't. Not until I learn all my life lessons. That's what she calls them, life lessons.” She smiled weakly. “I do miss him, though. Ulrich always makes me laugh . . . that stubby tail of his.”

“Well,” said Juniper, rapping his claws against his chin, “let me speak to Elvi. You've come a long way this past year.” He patted Texi's shoulder. “I think it's high time you had a little
diversion. Besides, we're all sick to death of Ulrich's constant grousing.”

“Oh”—Texi looked down at her feet—“it's all right. You don't have to do that for me.”

“But I
want
to,” said Juniper.

“But after what I did . . . to . . . to little Julius, I don't think I should do anything but study for now, learn to be . . . good.”

Juniper lifted Texi's chin. “My dear, you
are
good. All has been forgiven. We are not angry with you. Why, we never were. Maddy and I know how very hard you've been working . . . and how far you've come. You're stronger, more self-assured. Even your eyes—they shine brighter than before.”

Texi placed the dagger back in the holster on her leg. The same kind Elvi had. “Thank you,” she said softly.

Batiste was killed on Hallowtide Night
,

while searching Topside for sweet delight
.

Batiste was killed at quarter past three
,

while searching for food in the Battery
.

Now he is lonely, now he is dead
,

now he Pennies-and-Pranks for your tail and your head!

The morbid verse ran through Billycan's head as he placed a grimacing gourd with a fanged mouth in a corner. There weren't any pumpkins to be found, so instead he and a band of others had absconded with a crate of small squashes they pinched from one of the many vendors at Tosca's open market. They'd do just fine.

After insisting the others go to bed, he and Ajax worked furiously through the night. When he thought about it, it sounded preposterous. Two grown rats who'd seen more war, death, and destruction than any creature should ever witness, sitting on
the floor, surrounded by gourds and colored paper, whittling Jack-o'-lanterns and hanging cutouts of devils and spooks. He supposed it was fitting. It was
something
, in any case. It was yet another happy moment, another
good
moment, to help force out all the bad ones . . . the ones that haunted him far worse than any Hallowtide ghost ever could.

“They will be horrified!” he shouted as he made a frenzied dash down another corridor. He had planned everything so well. His white snout highlighted by firelight, he would start with the story of Batiste. He couldn't wait to tell the little ones of Tosca all about the aged phantom, roaming the corridors for Pennies-or-Pranking, searching aimlessly for his stolen sweets! His heart raced in anticipation. He hadn't felt this kind of rush in ages . . . not since that night . . . He shook his head vehemently. He didn't want to think about that. Not right now. No dark thoughts. Not today.

After hanging the last decoration, he stormed into the throne room just in time to find Ajax finishing up the face of a particularly demonic yellow squash. The black rat dropped a small candle inside it and lit it, raising a critical eyebrow at the gourd's ghastly yellow grin.

Ajax turned and stared at Billycan, who leaned against the doorway, catching his breath. “What? You don't like it?” asked Ajax. He folded his arms and sighed with frustration. “Too scary?”

Billycan's eyes brightened to an intense ruby in the candle's flickering light. His chest still heaving, his voice came out as a raspy whisper. “Just scary enough.”

Juniper smiled as he watched Julius and Nomi zip around the breakfast table, Nomi intent on catching her brother's tail. The older boys, Tuk and Gage, had gone off with Mother Gallo to
Nightshade Passage already, eager to get a look at the latest batch of diaries recovered from the swamp.