Cyrion Page 8

  Anya shook her head. “No, you wouldn’t. You would’ve sent your sons elsewhere and then you would’ve hunted me down and killed me.” She paused and lifted a sardonic eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you?”

  Silence.

  There was a tense stillness in Anya’s body. Like a spring, coiled too tight and about to snap. “Do you know how lonely I was? Do any of you have any idea?”

  A low, barely audible rumble broke the silence.

  Her hands, clenched into white-knuckled fists held stiffly at her side, betrayed Anya’s expressionless face and calm, flat voice. “Do you? Thinking I am the only one of my kind?”

  The rumbling grew louder. The day grew darker.

  She bowed her head, silvered eyes closing, clenched fists blossoming into claws with scales of iridescent green. “So I am all alone because of you.”

  There was a sudden crash of breaking glass. A raven thudded on the kitchen table. Broken bits of glass clung to its battered body, catching the dying light. The raven was still alive, but only just. The rumbling grew louder, and the day, darker still.

  “If you spared none of my kind, why should I spare yours?”

  The rumbling was deafening. Jon glanced out the broken kitchen window and saw something covering the sun. Not a cloud, exactly. It did not move like a cloud. It moved like something alive.

  And it was getting closer.

  “That’s quite enough, young lady,” Naeem got up from his chair. “Kindly refrain from vandalizing more of my private property.”

  “Huh?” Jon turned to his grandfather, confused.

  Naeem spared a kind glance to Jon before turning back to Anya. “I mean, stop breaking my stuff.”

  “Anya,” Jon said. “He’s hurt. Your raven friend. That’s him, right?” He shook her arm, ignoring the monstrous claws, hoping to break that awful, alien concentration on her face. “You told me and Saul that you don’t hurt friends. Back in the forest. Remember? You need to stop and take him to the doctor. Anya, he’s hurt really bad.”

  “And he won’t be the last, will he?” Naeem said. “Your little friend Talitha is out there. So is Greta.”

  “Grammy Greta, Anya,” Saul was now shaking her other arm. “She promised you cake if we get her some eggs from the coop. And we got…the eggs…”

  There was an abrupt pause. Jon followed Saul’s gaze and saw the mess of broken shells and yolk on the mudroom floor. They both stared at the mess for a moment longer before Saul shook his head.

  “We can get more. When you told her you haven’t had cake in years, she said she’d make you a special one tonight. Remember?”

  “Did you mean what you told them in the forest?” Naeem said to Anya.

  “Yes.” Her face and voice had an eerie vacancy.

  The rumbling reached a crescendo. Jon released Anya’s arm with a cry and instinctively clapped his hands over his ears, to block out the sound. To block out the pain. He fell to his knees.

  “Liar!” Naeem snapped.

  Anya turned to him, the stunned expression of a whipped child on her face.

  Naeem gestured at the dying raven on the kitchen table and at the boys. “Look at those you call your friends.”

  Anya gasped. The ominous rumbling abruptly ceased. The sun shone again. There were audible sighs of relief.

  Geoff cleared his throat. “The regulations clearly state—”

  “Chapter seven, section fourteen,” Naeem said, dark eyes flashing. “‘In the event Watchers fail to come to a consensus, a temporary arrangement must be made to maintain the status quo until such a time said consensus is reached’. Page 311, just below the mustard stain.”

  “Grampa?” Jon said, a frown on his face.

  “Yes, Jon?”

  “Huh?”

  Anya stared at the raven, stunned. All the tension seemed to have flowed out of her frame. “I think it means until they all agree on what to do, they can’t do anything.” She walked toward the table, toward the dying raven, hands outstretched.

  Human hands.

  “Concisely put, young lady,” Naeem said.

  “Grampa, stop it.” Jon slowly got up from the floor.

  “But we can’t just let her go either,” Logan said, darting a glance at the other Watchers. “She almost leveled the whole town.”

  “May I suggest—” Naeem started. Jon glowered at him. Naeem cleared his throat and tried again. “How about this? Young lady, do you keep your promises?”

  Anya nodded, silvered eyes glued on the wounded raven.

  “So how about we promise not to harm you as long as you promise us two things? One, you will only use your powers when necessary. Two, you must not willingly leave the city.”

  “Yes. Anything.” She held the raven with gentle hands.

  Human hands.

  She looked up at Naeem, pleading. “Now can we please get him to a doctor?”

  Ignoring her, Naeem turned to the Watchers “Is this acceptable to you?” A sad smile lurked on his bearded lips as he collected the Watchers’ assent.

  He nodded to Karin.

  “Let me see.” Karin hurried to her side and examined the raven. “I’m sorry lass, it’s too late. You still have a little time to say goodbye.”

  “I still owe you a button.” She sank down to the floor, cradling the dying raven to her chest, and wept.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE SPAT

  The following day, Jon stood beside Anya by the low wall in the backyard, before a small grave shaded by a pigeon berry bush. Saul stood, fidgeting, on her other side.

  “I’m sorry.” Tears slipped down Anya’s face. “Mother said I had to take care of my friends. And I didn’t take care of you.”

  The little mouse on her shoulder gave a soft squeak.

  The grave, unmarked by a headstone but profusely decorated with buttons of all colors, shapes and sizes, was situated as far away from the chicken coop as possible. Anya did not want the chickens defiling her friend’s final resting place. She said this was the least she could do.

  “Stop beating yourself up,” Jon said. “In his last moments, he had no doubt you loved him.”

  “Yeah,” Saul said. “If someone did the same to my family, I’d be really mad too.”

  “But I almost lost control. If I did, then—”

  Jon tightened his lips for a moment. He’d been wondering the same thing. He shook his head. Irrelevant. For now. “But you didn’t. You stayed in control. Right, Saul?”

  Saul nodded. “I’m not sure I could. I’d have been so mad…”

  Shoulders hunched, she ducked her head and wrapped her arms around herself. “But—”

  Jon shook his head. “You could have, but you didn’t. You spent his last moments holding him. I’m sure that meant a lot.”

  She lifted her head to face them. “Does this mean you still want to be my friends? Even after…”

  “Geez, Anya,” Saul gave her a shoulder bump. “I thought you were smart. We’re here, aren’t we?”

  “And we’ll always be.” Jon put his hand on her bony shoulders.

  “D-uh.” Saul rolled his eyes.

  “Thank you.” Anya smiled and drew both of them close in an impulsive hug.

  There was a discreet cough from behind. “So Greta came through with the buttons,” Naeem said.

  “Yes, Grampa,” Jon said. “She said she emptied out her entire sewing box. And she promised to plant flowers later.”

  “That’s good,” Naeem said. “I only wanted to pay my respects and ask you what your plans are for the rest of the day.”

  “I don’t think we have anything planned,” Saul said.

  Jon and Anya nodded their confirmation.

  “Well, a little later today, I thought that we could stroll down to the city lockup and pay the goblin a visit. He’s been saying some rather interesting things. Pity no…er…grumps was it?” Naeem winked. “Pity no grumps bothered to listen.” He paused for a moment, his lips pursed, and a thoughtful look on his face.
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think the little fellow is lying.”

  “Why would we—” Jon started when Saul shushed him.

  “Yes, we’d be delighted,” Anya said.

  “You know, that copy of Watcher manual is still on the kitchen table. Would you like to take a look before Greta puts it away?”

  “Yes. Yes, we would,” Saul said, his hands clamped on Jon’s mouth.

  “Nuh—mmmff—” Jon glared at Saul.

  Naeem nodded, his eyes on the ground. “May I suggest you pay particular attention to chapter two, sections eight to ten?” He tugged at his beard. “Page eighty-six, I believe. I apologize for the lack of handy mustard stains.”

  Naeem bent and placed a bright red button in the shape of a hexagon on the raven’s grave.

  “Well,” he said as he got up. “The dictionary is on the second shelf, the third book from the left in my study, where I will be taking a short nap.” Naeem yawned and stretched. “Try not to take too long with it. Also, Greta’ll be quite upset if you’re late for dinner. And be sure to see me before you decide…whatever you’ll decide, won’t you?”

  Naeem strolled back to the house, waving them goodbye.

  “What was all that about?”

  “Jon,” Saul said in a rough voice. “I swear it’s like you switch your brain off when your Grampa’s around! He’s figured a way out for us. For Anya. He wants us to do something.”

  “Well, why didn’t he just tell us?” Jon asked.

  “ ‘Cause he’s a Watcher. He probably can’t or something,” Saul said.

  Jon’s head tilted to the side with genuine puzzlement. “A way out of what?”

  Saul’s face turned a bright cherry red. “You were really out of it, weren’t you? Don’t you remember the terms? God knows Grampa Naeem kept it simple. Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

  “Please don’t fight,” Anya said, her voice was level, but her brows drew together in a furious scowl.

  “I don’t want to. But it’s like he’s being purposely clueless!” Saul said to Anya, his voice rising in fury. “It’s like he expects the grumps to do and know everything. Like they can do no wrong. Like he can’t be bothered to even try thinking on his own when he’s around them.”

  “Don’t call me clueless,” Jon said, as his own face warmed. “I really don’t understand what the problem is. The grumps can’t do anything, and Anya can stay with us for as long as she wants to.”

  “Precisely my point.” Saul whirled around until he was nose-to-nose with Jon. “The grumps can’t do anything only for as long as they can’t agree on something. You know that’s only a matter of time. Grampa Naeem can slow them down, but for how long? He’s old. He might keel over any second.”

  “Don’t you say that about my Grampa!”

  “Well, it’s true. He’s really old. And Anya can’t stay for as long as she wants—”

  “Please, stop,” Anya said. Her breathing grew ragged.

  “She has to stay. Whether she wants to or not.” Saul poked Jon’s chest “Your problem is you think Anya’s no different from…from those chickens!”

  “Chickens?” Jon shoved his friend away, sending Saul stumbling. “What? You’re crazy!”

  “No, you’re stupid,” Saul’s face turned purple and cords of muscle stood out from the sides of his neck. “You’ve overtaken clueless, sped all the way past dumb, and are firmly in the land of stupid. Anya’s not a pet. She’s a person. Like you and me. She doesn’t deserve this!”

  Anya gave a blood-curdling growl and then tilted her head up and let out a deafening scream at the top of her lungs.

  He and Saul were startled into complete silence.

  “You,” she turned to Saul. “I can speak for myself. And you,” she whirled to Jon, her eyes narrowing. “I should smack you upside the head.”

  She paused for a moment. “What did Mother say you humans do…oh, yes,” she turned back to the stunned boys. “Now, both of you shake hands and say you’re sorry. I mean it. Now.”

  Jon looked at Saul, then at Anya. He quickly shook Saul’s hand, muttering his apology.

  “Now hug,” Anya said.

  “Anya, boys don’t hug—” Saul said.

  “I don’t care!” Anya said, stamping her foot. “You two hug, right now!” Her voice was deeper, rougher.

  Jon eyed her clenched fists, and gingerly hugged Saul.

  “Pro-per-ly,” Anya said through clenched teeth.

  The boys hugged quickly, and then drew apart, twice as fast.

  “Now you,” Anya said to Saul “Come with me, get the dictionary, and we’ll get that manual sorted. And you,” she whirled to face Jon.

  Jon reared back.

  “Stay here until you’ve figured out, on your own, why I need to do this.”

  With that, she turned her back on them and stomped toward the house.

  He and Saul stood rooted to the ground, mouths agape.

  About halfway back to the house, Anya stopped. “Are you coming, or am I doing this on my own?” Saul scurried to her side. Jon stood alone at the raven’s graveside, his mouth still hanging open.

  * * * *

  “I think they’ve got it sorted out,” Naeem said.

  Greta grunted. “They’re all good ‘uns, so I don’t see how they can’t. Precocious they are, like we was.” She nudged Naeem with her elbow. They had been watching the exchange from the kitchen window.

  “You’ve got their packs ready, then?”

  “ ‘Course I did. Called me ‘Grammy’ didn’t they,” Greta said, a smile on her puckered face. “Best make ourselves scarce. They’re coming this way.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE LOOPHOLE

  Jon walked into the pink bedroom, now Anya’s, and found his friends bent over both the slender Watcher manual and a heavy, leather-bound tome.

  “I’m sorry,” Jon said to Anya. “You’re not a chicken.”

  “I’m sorry too,” Saul said to Jon. “I shouldn’t have called you those names.

  Jon turned to Saul. “And I shouldn’t have acted like a drooling, blithering idiot.” He grinned. “So I guess we’re even?”

  The mouse sitting on Anya’s shoulder scampered and stuck its nose in his ear, tickling him. Jon giggled. Duty discharged, the mouse jumped off and returned to its post.

  “I’m so glad you’re back, Jon,” Saul said. “This thing is complicated.”

  “What have we got so far?” Jon said.

  He settled down on the floor, nestled between his two friends.

  “Listen to this beast.” Saul read aloud.

  “The applicant/s must undertake and complete a mission deemed impossible by senior Watchers, with no interference from any Watcher whatsoever. Senior Watchers are limited to a strictly supervisory role. Any assistance rendered by senior Watchers will, in turn, render said application null and void.”

  “This is only the first bit,” Saul said.

  Anya canted her head to the side. “We think it means we need to do something really hard, with no help from the grumps.”

  “And this next bit,” Saul said. He cleared his throat.

  “The completion of the mission must prove beyond any doubt the applicant/s posses/es the high moral caliber befitting the Watchers.”

  “Finally the last bit,” Saul said, rolling his eyes.

  “Upon the satisfactory completion of said mission, the applicant/s are eligible to hold the position/s of Apprentice Watchers. Apprentice Watchers possess all the rights, privileges, and obligations of Full Watchers.”

  “What does all this even mean?” Jon asked.

  Anya tapped the dictionary with her knuckle, a meaningful look on her face. The trio spent the next few minutes flipping through the tome and debating what they thought the words meant, before coming to an agreement.

  “Okay, so this means,” Jon said, ticking the points off with his fingers. “We need to do something good, which is also really hard, without any help, righ
t?”

  Saul flipped through the manual. “I think the word they used is ‘impossible’.”

  “But does the last bit mean I have to become a Watcher to be free? I don’t want to be forced to hurt other people just because they’re different.”

  “So argue about it,” Jon said. “Like the grumps did.”

  “Yeah,” Saul said. “We’ll join too. Jon and me. They can’t do anything if we do that. By their own rules.”

  “Until they change it.” Anya bit her lower lip, her face, bitter.

  “We’ll think of something else by then,” Jon said.

  “I think the goblin must be our next step,” Anya said.

  “What do we do? We break him out? We…‘take care’ of him?” Saul said, throwing out random ideas.

  “No, too easy,” Jon said, shaking his head. “I think we need to talk to him to figure out exactly what we need to do.”

  “Right then,” Saul said as he got up from the floor. “Let’s go see Grampa Naeem.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  G’HANJL

  Jon trailed behind Anya and Naeem as they made their way through Linwood.

  “What’s that, Grampa Naeem?” Anya gestured to Naeem’s liver-spotted hand.

  Naeem held a fine porcelain platter, covered with equally fine white linen. They were making their way to the city lock-up. The tiny dun-furred mouse peeked out from under her collar, twitching its nose in curiosity.

  “Greta made cookies for the guard,” Naeem said. “I think you’ve met him. His name is Jaelyn.”

  “Huh,” Anya said, jerking her head back. “I thought she didn’t like him. Is that why they stink like pigeon berries?” She wrinkled her button nose. “I noticed the bush in the backyard.”

  Naeem blithely continued walking.

  “I don’t smell anything bad.” Saul darted forward and sniffed at the platter. “The cookies smell good. They look good too. Can I have some?”

  “No,” Jon and Anya said in unison.

  “Grammy Greta is being nice. To someone Anya said she does not like,” Jon said, giving Saul a meaningful look.

  “She said something about sending them by way of apology,” Naeem said under his breath.