Umberland Page 4

  Despite being sick, I’m still in better shape than Hook. His right arm is no longer flesh and bone. Instead it is constructed from metal cogs, washers, and gears, making him look more machine than human. A shiver runs up my spine as I shudder, recalling his horrified screams when Gwen Darling sliced off that arm, sending it and the antidote into a crocodile pit. Between being infected with the poison and the massive amounts of blood loss, it’s a miracle he survived the long journey from Everland to Lohr Castle. Why I saved his life, I don’t know. Especially after he made me a traitor to Pete and the Lost Boys and marked me with the Marauders brand. I touch the scarred flesh behind my ear, feeling the pucker of the seared mark.

  Dozens of times I considered throwing him from the zeppelin into shark-infested waters. Maybe that would’ve been the merciful thing to do. It was what my father would have done, sparing him from any more suffering. Instead, I couldn’t bring myself to do it, and now his death will be slow and painful. Karma’s patient.

  Hook joins me at the window and whispers behind his hand, “She’s not well.”

  His breath smells of rum, a scent that has become a vile reminder of his cruelty toward me over the years.

  “I can see that. What do you expect me to do?” I reply, uninterested in anything he has to say. Especially when he states the obvious. “You had the antidote in the palm of your hand and lost it.”

  Hook turns his single dark eye toward me, the other covered in a copper-adorned black eye patch.

  “No pun intended,” I add, shrugging. Unimpressed with his pathetic attempt to threaten me, I return my gaze to the broken zeppelin.

  My brother’s men are all dead or deserted after Everland. I am the only one left. But my loyalty is not to Hook nor my stepmother. The ones who desire my allegiance don’t deserve it. The ones I’d sell my soul for, the Lost Boys, don’t want it. I have no family to call my own.

  The Bloodred Queen sets her brush down. Her reflection gives us a condescending frown. I once sought her approval, longing for a mother—any mother—after having lost my own at birth. When my father, the king of Germany, was assassinated by my stepmother, she was all the family I had left. In spite of my anger, I still longed for her acceptance. The alternative was to end up like my father, dead. And yet there was nothing I could do to earn her love. No deed could gain her respect. So I learned to take my beatings and survive, hoping she wouldn’t find a reason to have me killed, too. Bitterness festered within me, and I could sympathize with the pain of loss the Lost Boys in Everland experienced.

  There’s only one thing worse than being an orphan: being an orphan with a stepmother who wants you dead.

  A machinelike squawk pierces the unsettling silence. Renwyk, one of the Bloodred Queen’s scouting ravens, flies through the window and lands on the vanity. Its dark metal head bows before it flaps its rusty metal wings. My stepmother snatches up the bird. She slides the metal pieces of the raven into a new interlocking pattern, and a small door suddenly pops open. Reaching in with bony fingers, she extracts a rolled-up bit of parchment. Something sinister spreads across her face as she reads it. She pulls a quill from an inkwell and scrawls a reply.

  “Do you really believe that one vial was all they had? With so many depending on a cure, you know that wasn’t the only antidote. In fact, according to Princess Katt, the Everland children along with many others have taken up refuge at Alnwick Castle in Northumberland,” the Bloodred Queen says, tapping the animatronic raven knowingly.

  “Fascinating,” Hook says, rubbing the scruff on his chin. “We could infiltrate Alnwick and steal the antidote.”

  With the note now dry, the Bloodred Queen drops it back in the raven and clicks the pieces into place. “Idiot. You had your opportunity and you wasted it on chasing ghosts, Immunes. No, I have better plans for you. Forget the antidote.”

  Hook’s brows crook in confusion, but he still smiles at the thought of his mother giving him some new task. Hook will never learn. He’s just a pawn in some unwinnable game. The Bloodred Queen dismisses the bird. It caws and flies past me, out through the open window.

  “That cure isn’t the only option. If we can re-create the Horologia poison, we can also create an antidote,” she says.

  “Seems simple enough,” Hook says. “Our laboratories did create it in the first place.”

  I can’t help but say, “If it were that simple, we’d already have the antidote.” I immediately regret drawing attention to myself.

  “Clever boy,” the queen says. “You’ve always been sharper than your brother.”

  Hook growls at the criticism. I sigh. “What do we need to remake it?” he asks.

  I try to fade from the conversation. What I need is information. Clearly, I will never win my stepmother’s favor, but perhaps with access to the ingredients for a new antidote, I can use it to my advantage.

  “An apple,” she says, turning her stare to Hook. He casts his gaze to the floor.

  I feel a small bite of terror in the pit of my stomach. She can’t mean …

  “A poison apple,” she says.

  Hook reaches a hand to his eye patch, rubbing the three scars that disappear beneath it, as if by instinct. “But that tree no longer exists. You had the Forbidden Garden destroyed after I … after …”

  As much as I dislike my stepbrother, I feel a pang of sympathy for him. That tree, it ruined everything good we ever had. We were once more than just family; we were the best of friends. He and I spent every waking hour together. But when my father was murdered, something broke between us. Loyalties divided us. Hook refused to believe his mother was behind my father’s death, but I knew better. With my mother’s passing, I was all my father had. He loved me more than anything in the world and told me so each night before bed. The Bloodred Queen wore her jealousy like a crown.

  From what I remember, the tree was majestic, shimmering with an inner light of its own. Lush fruit glittered among the iridescent leaves. As boys we swung from its boughs, its branches cradling us. Encompassing a spirit of its own, it was like no other plant within the castle grounds.

  How something so beautiful could cause such cruelty, I’ll never understand.

  Hook had just turned thirteen when he brought one of the shiny ripe fruits as a gift for his mother, and in return she left him blind in one eye. Her screams, his cry for help—they both burned a memory that caused nightmares. Not long after, the tree disappeared, its forbidden fruit lost, never to be seen again.

  “Not gone. Guarded so no one can accidentally get it again,” the Bloodred Queen says, glaring at Hook. “The tree thrives within a labyrinth deep within the Black Forest.”

  It takes a moment for her words to sink in. “Labyrinth? I thought those stories were lore,” Hook says.

  “Far from it,” the Bloodred Queen replies. “There is truth in the whispered tales.”

  “I’ll go.” Determination is strong within his words.

  Pressing her lips together, the queen turns away from her son, wincing as if the sight of him pains her. “The tree was never meant to be seen again. You will have to defeat the Labyrinth, and it is no ordinary maze.” Her tone makes it evident she doesn’t believe him worthy.

  “I don’t care. I’m not afraid,” Hook says, anxiety in his voice.

  “It is hardly a place for the weak,” she says, stirring the cup of tea in front of her. “In the Labyrinth, bravery is fleeting and fear will kill.”

  The Bloodred Queen drops her gaze, seeming lost in her thoughts. After a few moments she nods and announces, “I think this job is suited for both you and Jack.”

  Surprised, I glance at my stepbrother. As the realization that I’m expected to join Hook on another task settles over him, a renewed flush of jealousy reddens his face. The muscles in his neck cord like thick ropes as he glowers.

  I, however, am suspicious. Our journey to England and the release of the poison was no accident. We were given specific coordinates to bomb by the Bloodred Queen; she knew that the
laboratory would be destroyed, but then opted not to share that information with my stepbrother or me. I don’t think she has any intention of us both coming back this time. Although if she needs that apple, then she must expect at least one of us to return.

  Hook never wanted me along on the Everland mission, and to have to share the journey of the Labyrinth with me must be eating him up. The Bloodred Queen is pitting us against each other; she always has. It’s a game I’m loath to play, but unless I intend to be the one left for dead, I’ll have to come up with some plan. I certainly can’t come home to Lohr after this. My stepmother will surely kill me once she has the apple—she has been working up to that for years—and it’d be too dangerous to actually let her get her hands on it. But perhaps I can use Hook’s company to my advantage.

  “Go to the Labyrinth and bring back the apple,” she says, peering at both of us. She picks up a white handkerchief from her table and dabs at her nose. When she’s done, she holds it up. The cloth is dotted with bloodstains. “Time is running out.”

  Sitting in a window seat surrounded by plush pillows, Gwen’s silhouette is lit under the bright moon’s glow. With her forehead pressed against the glass of the slightly opened window, she stares into the night, the luminous Milky Way painted on the galaxy beyond her profile.

  Hesitantly, I walk into the room, not wanting to upset her any further. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I quietly approach.

  “Are you wishing on a star?” I ask. The comment feels insensitive, but I don’t know what else to say.

  Her teary gaze meets mine as she gives me a sad smile. She returns her attention to the millions of stars that sparkle in the evening sky.

  “You should be resting. It’s been a long day,” I say.

  Gwen shrugs. “I can’t sleep. Too many things on my mind.”

  “Would you like to share?” I ask.

  She whips her head toward me. “Do you know what they did with my mum? She was discarded with the others. No ceremony. No funeral. Nothing! It’s as if she meant nothing to them!” Gwen says furiously.

  Even with the number of people dying off, it feels wrong not to mourn the Professor. So … impersonal. Unceremonious for a woman who meant so much to so many of us. She deserved more. We deserved the chance to say our good-byes, but with how rapidly the disease has spread, we can’t take the risk. Those in charge of disposing the dead followed protocol.

  She returns her gaze to the window. “And do you want to know what I’m angriest about? The fact that Joanna, Mikey, and I had already grieved her loss and now we’re doing it all over again. We would have been better off if we never found her. We had already buried her in our hearts. This just feels too cruel.”

  I settle next to her at the window seat, placing a hand on her leg. I wish I knew what to say. The truth is, her pain is familiar. All I can rasp out is, “Gwen.” I clear my throat to try again, but she draws her legs into her chest, letting my hand slip from her. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she stares at me, as if searching for lost words of her own. We sit in silence, not touching. There are no words that can bring comfort.

  “Do you believe in heaven?” she finally asks.

  “Heaven? As in that?” I ask, pointing to the sparkling sky.

  She tilts her head. “No, you know what I mean.”

  My gut twists as I consider my response. I’ve asked the very same question again and again, having lost my entire family. While I hope that such a place exists, the bitterness of being alone, orphaned with no one to count on but myself, burns deep in my blood. But this is not the occasion to divulge my hopes or doubts.

  Scooting in close to Gwen, I lean over to take in the vast sky twinkling with iridescent stars. I pick a lone star that seems separate from the others. Unique in its own right.

  “See that cluster of stars?” I say. “The ones just to the left of the Big Dipper?”

  “Yes,” Gwen says, squinting to take in its glow.

  “That is the constellation Cassiopeia. The lower right, that is my sister. And those two over there, they are my mum and pop,” I say, pointing to two adjacent stars. Leaning back on the wall, I take in a breath of the cool evening air. “They watch over me.”

  Gwen gives me a skeptical look.

  “What? You don’t believe me?” I nudge her with an elbow, hoping to lighten the mood.

  She turns her eyes back to the sky.

  “Gwen, what if this life we live is just a glimpse? A blink of what lies beyond?”

  She rolls her eyes. “You’re going spiritual on me?”

  Shaking my head, heat burns my cheeks. “It’s not that at all. When I lost my parents and then Gabrielle, I was more than a lost boy, I was a lost soul. Everything I loved, everything I cared for was ripped … stolen from my life. Grief fed into anger, anger to bitterness, bitterness to resentment, resentment to misery. The day Gabrielle died, I stood in the belfry of St. Paul’s Cathedral, ready to give up on it all. Ready to give up on myself.”

  Gwen brings a hand to her mouth, gasping. “I’m so sorry, Pete,” she says in almost a whisper.

  Shaking my head, I brush off her empathy. I can’t talk much more about how broken I was. I won’t go back to that place. The pain is too much. Her kind words force me to push it all deep down. I can’t look at her. I won’t let her see the shame in my eyes as I admit my moment of weakness, when there was nothing left in this world that mattered to me.

  “London was destroyed, the streets littered with corpses. I was alone. What was there to live for? As I started to step off the ledge, the sky erupted into a sea of shooting stars. So numerous there were too many to count. It was as if in that one instant every lost life, every soul, lit up the sky. I’ve never seen the stars shine so brightly. You know what I decided that night, Gwen?”

  She watches me, pain etching the corners of her eyes. She shakes her head.

  “I realized that life never truly ends. How can it? How can good, kind people just cease to exist? Our bodies may wither away, but our souls don’t. Have you ever looked into the eyes of a dying person? Even though their body fails them, the sparkle in their eyes is more vibrant than the brightest star.” I jut a finger toward the sky. “Your mum is not gone; she’s taken a different place in the universe.”

  Gwen’s eyes shimmer with unshed tears. An ache festers in my chest. I hate seeing her upset, especially when it feels like there is nothing I can do to ease her pain.

  “She’s there with my mum and pop. With Gabrielle,” I say. “See that star there? That’s the constellation Libra, and that star is Justice. And over there, that’s Pyro.”

  I turn my gaze back to Gwen’s eyes. “They’re always with us.”

  Tears finally stream down her cheeks, and I brush them away with my thumb.

  “You’re never alone. Not as long as the stars still shine,” I say.

  Gwen closes her eyes as she leans in. Her hand cups one side of my face as she presses her lips against my cheek, as if I’m just another Lost Kid. It surprises me. Her breath is quick. Hot with tears, her cheek brushes up against mine. I reach for her hand, but when I intertwine my fingers with hers, she shakes me off. Gwen snatches a pillow and pulls it into her chest, holding it tightly.

  My stomach knots; I’m unsure if I’ve done something to upset her. Did I share too much telling her about the belfry?

  “Could you check in on the infirmary for me?” she asks, scooting farther away, although she can’t move much closer to the window.

  “Lily’s there. She’s keeping an eye on Joanna and Mikey. They were almost asleep when I was in the infirmary last,” I say, eyeing her.

  Another tear slips down her cheek. In the short time I’ve known her, she’s never been one who let others see her cry. And it’s clear she’s trying to hold them in, but I can hear her small gasps of breath. I’m alarmed at seeing so many tears, but I understand. Her mother is dead. For real this time. Gwen’s an orphan for the second time.

  After Hook and his men destr
oyed London, everything that defined her childhood was stripped away: her parents, her school, her friends. Leaving her responsible for her siblings. There was no time for tears. And now … now she’s grasping at frayed strings of the life she once knew. Desperate to keep some semblance of it together.

  “I should be with them,” she says, furiously wiping away her tears. She buries her head in her arms, sobbing through hiccups. “I should be comforting them. I’m all they have left.”

  A recognizable pain tugs at my heart. I’m all they have left. Those words are all too familiar to me. The weight is too much for anyone to carry, much less anyone who is still a few years from being an adult herself. But it is the same responsibility I placed upon myself with the Lost Kids … with Gabrielle.

  “Gwen, you lost your mum, too. You have every right to grieve,” I say, reaching for her again. I squeeze her hand in comfort, but she winces and wrenches it away.

  “What’s wrong?” I say, alarmed.

  Another tear runs down her cheek, but I know this time it’s not brought on by heartbreak. Folding in on herself, she balls her fists as her face pinches. She shakes her head, as if that would bring some relief to the discomfort she must feel.

  “Let me see your hands,” I say, dread growing in me.

  Reluctantly, she offers me her hand, and I peel back the gloves she started wearing since working in the infirmary. Blisters cover the tips of her fingers. My chest caves, my heart sinking into the hollow of my gut. When I look back at her face, she averts her watery eyes, unwilling to meet mine.

  “How is this even possible?” she asks, the tone of her voice pleading for answers. “I was the one who received the vaccinations. I’m supposed to be immune.”

  Gently, I take her hand and kiss the top of it. As my lips brush against her skin, my breath hitches.

  “You’re not immune, not to this,” I whisper, afraid that once I say it aloud it will be real, and I can’t accept that. I can’t lose Gwen. My heart clenches. Sighing, I reluctantly release her hand. “Doc said that everyone is at risk, including you. I was sure he was wrong. But whatever he did to make the cure, it’s made it a bigger mess. Everyone will be sick soon.” I quickly explain what he told us earlier.