The Thief (28 page)

“
Oh, don’t worry about him,
he’s just hungry,” Bea said dismissively. Seeming to deflate, she
looked around at us all. “Well, who else is hungry?”

Mac raised his hand immediately. The rest of
us slowly followed suit, with varying degrees of sheepishness.

“
I thought as much. Get in
the kitchen before you break my china.”

“
I never get tired of the
part where the imp is your pet,” Mac said, totally engrossed in
watching the creature on the back porch have a staring contest with
the cold pie Bea had set out there. She stood at the kitchen
counter putting together something she called ‘long sandwiches’ for
the others while I munched on a bag of carrots.

“
I’d hardly call it a pet,”
Bea said offhand, layering a split loaf of French bread with meat,
cheese, and ranch dressing. “But it’s harmless. Mostly. Imps will
steal from anyone, and they look like vicious little vermin, but
they’re only truly dangerous to people who wronged them when they
were alive, or if you threaten them. Skittery little bastards
though,” she said, eyeing the creature through the window. “I’ve
been feeding that one for years and he still won’t come near me.
Imps just don’t trust anything they didn’t steal.”

“
And they eat candy bars and
pie?” Mac asked eagerly.

“
That one does. All imps are
different. You know what they are, right?”

“
Not even slightly,” Mac
said, unabashed.

“
Well,” Bea said, watching
the yellow-eyed creature sniff the pie cautiously. “When people
die, usually they ‘pass on’ or whatever that means. Maybe there’s
another life. Maybe they vanish entirely. Who knows? But every so
often, there comes some poor idiot who just can’t let go, for
whatever reason.” She shrugged, opening the oven to lay both
sandwich halves under the broiler.

“
So they’re ghosts?” Mac
said eagerly.

“
You’re jumping ahead of me,
boy,” Bea reprimanded him, closing the oven. “When a person’s heart
isn’t strong enough to handle the transition, the echo of their
mind becomes a ghost. That’s why ghosts can’t feel. And imps can’t
think, because they’re what happens when a person’s mind is the
weak half. That thing out there is a distant shadow of some poor
idiot’s heart. It’s skittish, inconstant, and reacts totally on
impulse. As for what it eats - that’s dependant on the person they
used to be. This one won’t touch anything that’s not made of pure
sugar,” she said wryly.

Camille pulled a face.

“
Oh, that’s nothing,” Bea
said, looking askance at her. “I once saw one that subsisted
exclusively on frogs. It was disgusting.”

The imp outside was buried head-first in the
crust, crumbs flying upwards. My stomach twisted at the thought of
those teeth turned on something living.

“
That one’s been around for
some time,” Bea said. “I first saw it when I was a little girl. I
have no idea how long it’s hung around Havenwood.”

“
Are you sure it’s the same
one?” Destin asked.

“
I’ve never seen eyes that
color before, or since,” she said. “I don’t know who he used to be,
or how long he’s been dead, but I’ll tell you one thing: he hates
Meredith.”

“
We noticed,” Mac said. We’d
already told her about running into Meredith at the mill. She’d
taken it better than I’d expected - apparently less keen on
lectures than Tailor, she’d seemed to gather that we’d learned our
own lesson about the Ender.

“
To be fair, I’ve yet to
meet someone who doesn’t hate her,” Bea said, removing the crisped
sandwich halves from the oven and deftly flipping the top half over
the bottom. She set the assembled sandwich on a cutting board and
sliced it into 2-inch sections. “She’s come to Havenwood twice
before, in my lifetime. Her only goal is killing the
Wolf.”

“
Yeah, so, I’m still kinda
rusty on exactly what that is?” Mac said, reaching for a sandwich
piece. “Other than apparently not an actual wolf,” he said, mouth
full. Then his eyes went wide. “I just realized this is the best
sandwich I’ve ever eaten in my entire life.”

“
The Wolf is a person,” Bea
said, pushing the tray toward Destin and Camille before Mac could
eat the entire loaf. “Or rather, it’s a bundle of power attached to
a person. Kill that person, a new Wolf is born within the year.
It’s impossible to predict who and where. Every one of them is bad
news - the power of the Wolf inevitably corrupting the host - or so
it’s said.” Her gaze out the window was distant. “I’ve seen two of
them, but I’m still not convinced how inevitable that is. Meredith
is convinced, though, and even if she sees proof to the contrary,
she forgets. I don’t know why, but every time the Wolf is killed,
her memories are wiped clean.”

“
But she’s immortal?” I
asked.

“
You see the problem,” she
said, with a significant look at me. “Right now, she has no more
memories than you do. An immortal made of fire, with all the
maturity of a teenager.”

“
No offense taken,” Mac
said, mouth full of sandwich.

Bea gives him a silencing, though not
unkind, look. “You want to know about the mill fire. I’ll tell you.
But I’ll need to take a step back, for you to understand my full
meaning.

“
My name is Beatrix Graham,
but generations ago it was Grimm. They changed it when they left
the Afterlands and crossed to this side of the mirror, wanting to
hide from the tyrants we’d left behind. My parents never told me,”
she said, pointedly not looking at me. “They’d decided we were
safe, that it was time to let history fade and melt into the rest
of humanity.” Now her eyes met mine. “Soren had other
ideas.”

Seeing the others’ looks of confusion, she
explained, “Soren was a Mirrormaker - which is exactly what it
sounds like. When he was a child, and still learning his powers,
Soren made a few unintentional anomalies. One resulted in pulling
me into the Afterlands.” Her expression was carefully blank. “I
ended up spending a lot of time there, and brought some friends
back here with me - orphans of war that wanted to live here, free
of magic, seeking normal lives. Zinnia Wilde, my best friend, and
two feral boys. Marco Heron,” she glanced at Destin, “and Omen
Taft. Omen was like a little brother to us all. He’d wanted to stay
and fight the war his parents had lost their lives for, but we
wanted to give him something better. Something simpler. Safer.
Zinnia and I got him a job hauling lumber for the mill. Marco had
become a police officer. We thought we were done with the other
side, that we could forget it all.

“
Then Meredith came.” Her
tone was grim enough that even Mac had stopped eating, attention
totally focused on her story. “I’d heard of her,” she said, a dark
smile crossing her face. “She’d sounded cool, honestly. An immortal
guardian protecting the world from its monsters with a righteous
cleansing fire. At first, I even wanted to help her find the Wolf,
when she’d declared it was hiding in our town. But that was before
we knew it was Omen.”

She crossed to the window, looking out at
the imp curled up in the pie pan, sleeping off the sugar rush. “His
temper had been getting worse, it was true, but we thought it was
just teenage hormones. He was stronger than he had any right to be
- but he was feral, so we’d chalked it up to that. I think I’d had
some instinct about it, because every time Meredith wanted to visit
the lumber mill, I’d distracted her...but it was only a matter of
time. The instant Omen turned sixteen, Meredith knew exactly where
he was. He, Zinnia and I were doing inventory at the mill. You’ve
seen the remains of the place. You can imagine the rest,” she said
bluntly. “He resisted, but you can’t really stop her, only slow her
down. She burnt him alive. He was only sixteen. He hadn’t even hurt
anyone. Yet. Yet, she said, but it was Omen, so...” I couldn’t see
her expression with her back turned to us. “That’s when I knew that
she was the real monster. And that was when I knew that you can’t
hide from forces like that.” She looked at each of us in turn.
“John Tailor still thinks you can. I won’t tell you such fairy
tales. I’ve learned to err on the side of caution, but no matter if
any of you have powers or not,” she glanced at Mac, “you’re
involved, Juliet is right about that. Meredith has no allegiances,
no sympathies, no motives beyond hunting the Wolf. She won’t
hesitate to harm anyone who gets between her and her goal.” Bea
looked at us intently. “So is that enough to convince you to stay
out of her path?”

“
Tattoo lady is bad news,”
Mac said. “Got it.”

“
But we still don’t know who
she’s looking for,” I said. “I mean, who this Wolf person
is.”

Bea shrugged.

“
I think I know,” Camille
said, expression stony as she looked up at me. “Well, I think
Gabriel knows. I’m going to ask him.”

“
Gabriel,” Bea said darkly,
“won’t tell you anything unless it’s in his best interest for you
to know. He’s come to Havenwood before, and once he has whatever
he’s come for, he’ll be gone. Mark my words,” she said.

Camille stood abruptly. “Thank you for the
food,” she said formally. What Bea had said must have unnerved
her.

“
Yeah we better get back
home before mom gets suspicious,” Mac said, snagging the last piece
of the sandwich.

After the others had left, I reached into my
jacket pocket and pushed the velvet box toward Bea across the
counter.

She gasped in recognition, and for several
moments seemed to be without words. Finally, she reached for it.
“Where did you find this?” Bea asked softly.

“
A drawer at the mill. The
note was written to you, so I thought you’d want to have it,” I
said. “It seemed kind of personal.” An understatement, that was
clear.

Her eyes rested on me a moment, considering,
then returned to the box, her fingers barely touching the
fabric.

“
Some people,” she said
absently, “are never allowed to live normal lives, however much
they may wish to. No matter how hard we work to disentangle
ourselves, the mirrored world pulls us back in.”

“
That’s basically what
Tailor told us. But he said that if we avoid the principal, we
could still leave - ”

She laughed, abruptly. “Behind all that
anger, John is an optimist, even after all that’s happened. I don’t
think he can help himself. Whatever he says, he’s never truly lost
hope. But he’s wrong, Juliet. The moment you were born, your fate
was sealed. Your mother only complicated it by leaving you at
Simon’s mercy.” She sighed. “I fear I’ve done little better by you.
Can you forgive me?”

The corner of my mouth curved up. “I should
find you empty boxes more often.”

“
I was harsh on Simon,” she
admitted, setting the box aside, note still tucked inside. “I felt
I had to be. His father died before he was born, never even knew he
existed...I was afraid to raise a child alone. My parents had died
years before, and I had no relatives. I did what I thought was
best. I thought that if I kept him under tight discipline, I could
teach him control...I wonder now if I only made him hate me, and if
I’m the one who drove him away.”

“
Is he the Wolf?” I
said.

“
No, Juliet, he’s not the
Wolf. The last one died sixteen years ago. Whoever it is now,
they’d be about your age, if the pattern holds. Exactly what Simon
is, I’ve never been able to prove. He never exhibited powers that I
saw, but I know now that it’s because of John. Even when he was too
young to realize it, John had been dampening the powers of those
around him to an astonishing degree. I’ve never known a Null to
have such a widespread effect, and we didn’t catch on to what he
was doing until well after Simon and Kyra left. I’ve been trying to
help John find ways to control it, but it’s been slow. There’s not
much literature on the subject. His family was nearly hunted to
extinction in the Afterlands before they escaped over here. As it
is, he severely dampens the abilities of any fae or feral within
about a mile of him. We don’t think Rin Umino has figured it out
yet. If she knew his presence at the school actually
hindered
their plans for
the students...well, there’s no way she’d keep him bound there.
Likely she’d ship him to her sister’s labs to figure out what makes
him tick,” she said grimly.

“
So it’s because of Tailor
that Camille’s senses aren’t working?” I said, incredulous. “That’s
been driving her crazy.”

“
I think it’s part of what
drove Simon crazy too...” she admitted. “He was always so
frustrated with his lack of powers. But John was with him all the
time, so they were buried. Even I don’t know how he turned out.
Surely you saw something at home?” she asked, intently. “You’re the
only one who’s been close to him in the last fifteen years. You had
to have seen some signs.”

It was basically what Gabriel had said. “He
wasn’t at home much,” I admitted. “He was always out, usually
researching at the university. He would bring home giant stacks of
books and shut himself up in his room when he was at the apartment.
He only really came out for food.” I swallowed. “Or to yell at me
to clean the apartment.”

“
And you with no singing
mice to help you,” she smiled sadly. “I have to say, I never liked
Cinderella. I just can’t get behind a heroine who doesn’t know when
enough is enough.”