Simon Thorn and the Wolf's Den (6 page)

“Stop—let me go!” yelled Simon. Darryl dragged him forward, nearly lifting him off the ground.

“I can't do that,” said his uncle. “I'm sorry. She'll be all right. Soon as they realize you're not with her, they'll come after you again.”

“Good. Let them come.” Simon clutched the knife. This time he would use it.

“Your mother wants you safe,” said Darryl. “That's all that matters to her, do you understand me? Your safety. Not hers, not mine—
yours
. If you want to help her, then stop struggling and let me protect you.”

They neared the end of the block. The rats began to thin,
and
Simon could see clear pavement ahead. He may have been angry that his mother and Darryl had kept so many secrets from him, but that didn't mean he wanted the rats to kill her, and if they got any farther away, Simon would have no chance of helping her. So at last he said, “Okay. Fine. Just let go of me—you're hurting my arm.”

Darryl reluctantly let go. “The rats can't follow us over water. If we can make it to the Midtown ferries . . .”

Simon wasn't listening. Instead, he counted down in his head.
Five, four, three, two . . .

As soon as he hit
one
, he bolted in the opposite direction. The rats moved aside for him, apparently sensing that he was heading back into their trap, and he ran as fast as he could down the sidewalk. Behind him, Darryl shouted, but Simon didn't slow down. He'd already lived his whole life without his mother. He wasn't going to lose her again.

But when he turned the corner, he skidded to a stop. She was gone, along with the pigeons. And a thousand rats were waiting for him.

They descended on him with impossible speed, climbing up his clothes, flinging themselves at him, biting him everywhere they could reach. He tried to shake them off, but they were bigger than any rats he'd ever seen before. One of them crawled up the knife, and though the blade cut its belly, the rat either didn't notice or didn't care.

“Simon!” yelled Darryl. “Hold on!”

Simon's knees buckled. The weight of the rats was too
much.
He couldn't move. Within moments, he wouldn't be able to stand, and there would be nothing stopping the rats from killing him.

A ferocious howl ripped through the air, and Simon looked up in time to see his uncle flying toward him, his enormous form unstoppable. But he didn't barrel into him like Simon expected. Instead, Darryl seemed to shimmer midleap, and to Simon's shock, his body began to change.

Darryl's fingers shifted into claws, his hands into paws, and his nose into a snout. Gray fur sprouted all over his body, engulfing his clothing, and as his torso thinned and lengthened, a tail appeared at the base of his spine. In the time it took Simon to blink, his very human uncle had changed into a real, live, snarling wolf. No, not just any wolf—the wolf from the park.

Simon froze. It wasn't possible. Humans didn't turn into animals.

Humans weren't supposed to be able to talk to animals, either, but Simon could. Maybe he was hallucinating. Maybe he was going crazy. Or maybe his uncle had been keeping a huge howling secret the whole time. Whatever it was, as far as he could tell, a very real wolf stood on the sidewalk in front of him, and no amount of frantic blinking made it disappear.

His uncle—the wolf—
Darryl
tore through the sea of rats and snatched two that clung to Simon's sweatshirt. Within seconds, the others either let go or were yanked away by the
wolf's
sharp teeth, and at last Simon was free of them. Breathing heavily, he watched as they scampered several feet away. At first Simon thought they were retreating, but then they grouped together once more and advanced on them. He held out his knife with a trembling hand.

“Go, Simon,” snarled the wolf in Darryl's voice. He snapped as a rat got too close. “I'll hold them off.”

“I'm not leaving you,” said Simon.

“Yes, you are,” said Darryl. “Take a bus to the Midtown ferry terminal and wait for me there. I'll be right behind you.”

“I'm not leaving,” repeated Simon. He had no idea where his mother was, and if the worst had happened . . . Darryl was all he had left.

The wolf growled and nipped at Simon's knees. “
Go.
Before you get us both killed.”

He stumbled backward. The wolf glared at him, his black eyes exactly like Darryl's, and Simon swallowed the painful lump in his throat. “If you're not there by the time I get there, I'm coming back,” he finally said.

A rodent the size of a cat threw itself at the wolf, landing on his shoulder. Darryl howled and bucked the rat off him, whipping it back into the horde. “I'll be there.”

Simon took one last look at the hulking wolf facing off against the army of vermin, and then he began to run. His uncle could take care of himself. He always could. Everything would be fine.

Simon sprinted down the street, dodging pedestrians as
he
searched for a bus route heading west to the water. For blocks he ran, until he was breathless and sweaty, trying to remember where the closest stop was. As he turned a corner, he spotted a subway station with a thin stream of rats heading down the steps, and he stumbled to a halt. His mother had said the subway was the rats' territory—that was where they must have taken her. He glanced back over his shoulder. His uncle would kill him, but if there was even the slightest possibility she was down there, maybe he could take a quick look and—

“Simon!”

A hand reached out and grabbed his sleeve, yanking him into an alleyway dark with shadows. He squinted. “Mom?”

“Do I look like your mother?” said an all too familiar voice. Simon's eyes quickly adjusted, and his heart sank. The girl from lunch—the one who had returned his backpack—stood in front of him.

“Winter? What are you doing here?”

She pulled him deeper into the alleyway. “Saving your hide, that's what.”

“I don't need you to save me,” he said, and she gave him an exasperated look.

“You're about to follow the rats into their own territory. You really think they'll let you see the surface again?”

Simon yanked his arm away. Her grip broke easily, unlike Darryl's, and he started back toward the sidewalk. “They have my mother.”

“
Not down there, they don't.”

“And I'm sure you know exactly where she is,” he said sarcastically. He didn't have time for this.

“I don't. But I know someone who does.”

He stopped.

Winter smiled. “Got your attention, didn't I?” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Orion saw the whole thing happen.”

Orion
. His grandfather. The very man his mother had been trying to evade. Simon's throat tightened. “I'm supposed to be running away from Orion, not toward him.”

“He's
trying
to protect you, despite your best efforts,” said Winter, and her voice softened. “We don't have much time. We've been trying to hold off the rats all day, but there are too many of them. If you don't come with me, the mammals are going to find you, and they're going to kill you.”

“So—you can talk to animals, too,” he said faintly.

“Told you you're not the only one.”

Simon eyed the bustling street. Something was happening. Something big. If he went back out there and met his uncle at the ferry, part of him—a very large part—was sure he would never find out what it was. And worse, he feared he would never see his mother again.

But if he went with Winter to meet Orion, he would be doing exactly what his mother and uncle didn't want him to do. He wanted to trust Winter though. She'd stood up for him in school, and she'd tried to reassure him that he
wasn't
crazy, talking to animals like he did. Darryl had no plan to rescue his mother—just a way out of the city. But Orion . . . if he'd really sent the pigeons to help them—if he really knew where his mother was . . .

Darryl was going to kill him.

“Where is he?” said Simon. “Where's Orion?”

“Your mom tried to fly away from the rats, but she was too injured, so Orion's following them,” said Winter. “He wanted to be here, but if they drag her underground before he can track them . . .”

Fly away. His mother had tried to fly away. Simon shook his head. His mother didn't have wings. Then again, up until ten minutes ago, Darryl hadn't had a tail, either.

“I'm supposed to meet my uncle,” said Simon, feeling light-headed. “I have to make sure he knows I'm okay. If I'm not there when he—”

The squeal of tires echoed between the buildings, and a black sedan appeared at the end of the alleyway. Simon backed away, but Winter didn't seem the least bit surprised, even when two large men exited the car.

“Who are they?” said Simon.

“Our ride,” said Winter. When Simon didn't move, she let out a frustrated hiss and lowered her voice. “The rats are almost here, and if they catch us, we're both going to become human chew toys. And if you don't come with me and something happens to you, Orion will never forgive me, and—please.” For the first time since Simon had met
her,
she sounded desperate. “He loves you. He's your family, and not everyone's lucky enough to have that, all right? He wants to protect you and your mother, and this is the only way.
Please
.”

Simon's heart raced. Darryl would be furious, but if he didn't go with Winter, he would probably never see his mother again, and Simon couldn't live with that. He'd lost her before, more times than he could count. He couldn't lose her forever.

At last he moved toward the sedan. “If anything happens to my mother—”

“It won't,” she said. “Feathers are family, and we protect our own.”

As Simon ducked into the car, all he could do was hope Winter was right.

5

THE BIRD LORD

Simon stared out the window as the black sedan navigated through rush hour traffic, his hand in his sweatshirt pocket as he stroked Felix's soft fur. What would Darryl think when he reached the ferry and found Simon missing? Would he assume he'd been kidnapped? Simon couldn't work up much guilt. Darryl had lied to him his entire life. Not only had he secretly been a wolf, but he had also known about Simon's ability to talk to animals. Instead of telling him the truth, he'd let Simon think he was weird and alone. And unlike his mother, he hadn't had a good excuse.

“How did you get away from the rats?” said Winter as they drove toward the Upper East Side. “Have you shifted already?”

“
Shifted?” said Simon, but he had an uneasy feeling he already knew exactly what she was talking about.

“Into your Animalgam form, of course,” she said.

“Ani-what?” said Simon.

“Ani-
mal
-gam,” said Winter, looking at him strangely. “Do you even know what the five kingdoms are?”

Simon stared at her blankly, and Winter sighed. “This is going to be fun.”

The sedan stopped outside a glitzy tower on Park Avenue a few minutes later. Winter hopped out of the car, and Simon followed, frowning. The tower had to be at least forty stories tall, and when he craned his neck, he could see a strange glass observatory on the very top level. “I need to let my uncle know where I am.”

“Orion will send a messenger,” said Winter as she bounded past the doorman and into the building. After taking one last look at the bustling street, Simon followed her inside. His uncle wouldn't leave the city without him, but he would undoubtedly assume Simon had been taken by the rats, too.

“What is this place?” he said once they were inside the lobby. The foyer was lined with trees that seemed to grow straight out of the marble floor, and the ceiling swirled with animated clouds.

“Sky Tower,” said Winter. “You've seriously never heard of it?”

Simon had a feeling there was a lot he hadn't heard of.
A
security guard in the elevator welcomed them with a nod. Though there were forty floors to choose from, he swiped a card and pressed the top button—a big
P
.

“I take it Orion lives in the penthouse,” said Simon as the elevator rose. “Do you live there, too?”

Winter nodded. “My father was the head of his security team.”

“Was?” said Simon.

Her expression darkened. “He's dead.”

“Oh.” His stomach twisted into knots. “I'm sorry. My dad's dead, too.”

“I know.” She didn't look at him, but her voice softened a little. Simon took that as a good sign.

“Do you really think Orion can save my mom?” he said, and Winter nodded.

“Orion wouldn't let her die. She's his family.”

It wasn't much reassurance, but it was all Simon had for now, and he hoped against hope she was right. They spent the rest of the elevator ride in silence, until at last the doors opened, revealing the penthouse.

Simon blinked. Hard. The penthouse was enormous, but instead of marble and chandeliers, he might as well have stepped into the middle of a forest. Dozens of trees grew from a carpet of grass and dirt, stretching up toward a ceiling five stories above them. One oak tree towered above the rest, with gnarled branches that bowed under their own weight. The walls on all four sides were made of glass, and
at
least a dozen birds flew from tree to tree, chattering in voices that sounded strangely human.

“This is where you
live
?” he said, his mouth hanging open.

“The floor below this is where we sleep, but we spend almost all our time in the tree house,” she said, pausing to wave at a robin.

They reached a spiral staircase. Simon tried to peer down into the level below, but Winter began the dizzying climb up instead, and he scrambled to follow.