Part 25 (1/2)
”Don't be. It was her time. Everyone should be so lucky as to find his matched pair in this world. I'm grateful for the years we had.”
Cynthia stepped over to the photograph.
”Mr. Morrow!” she said. ”You were a handsome devil! Look at you in that suit!”
”Very handsome,” intoned Bob in agreement, stooping lower to examine the photo over their shoulders.
”Oh, stop it!” Mr. Morrow chuckled. ”You'll make this fat old thing too vain for his own good. That photograph should be in the Smithsonian!” He looked into the fire, but Max saw that he was pleased.
”Who's this?” asked David, picking up a frame perched on a pile of books. In it was a yellowed photograph of a young man in a military uniform.
”Oh, that's my son. Arthur,” said Mr. Morrow quietly. ”That's him right after he joined the Marines. Lost him, too-his entire platoon, as a matter of fact.”
Cynthia made a furious gesture at David to put the photograph down.
”It's all right, Cynthia,” said Mr. Morrow with an understanding smile. ”I'm flattered that you children take an interest in my family.” He motioned for David to hand him the photograph.
”The politicians chose war and he chose it, too,” said Mr. Morrow, studying the photo. ”I didn't understand. It's strange, really. My whole life has been consumed with the study of war-of kingdoms that rise and fall with fire and sword. It all seems very glorious until it swallows up someone you love. Life is too precious a thing to throw away on orders and absurd chains of command.”
He put aside the picture and turned back to his soup, spilling a bit onto his robe. David looked depressed. Bob made a steadying gesture with his hand, cleaning up the used tissues that lay in little piles around the chair. Mr. Morrow looked up once more.
”Come now-if I'm to suffer visitors, then the least they can do is offer news! What are the happenings on campus? How's Hazel managing with my cla.s.ses? Have they found those stolen children yet? Missing Potentials is serious business-”
”Instructor,” warned Bob, dropping a porcelain cup he'd been was.h.i.+ng. ”They are not supposed to-”
”Not supposed to know?” exclaimed Mr. Morrow. ”You mean Gabrielle still still hasn't told them the dangers despite all her promises? That's outrageous! It's-it's hasn't told them the dangers despite all her promises? That's outrageous! It's-it's unconscionable unconscionable!”
”What are you talking about?” Cynthia asked quietly. ”What 'stolen children'?”
”We should be going,” said Bob, reaching for his coat and motioning to the others. ”We will visit again soon.”
”No, Bob,” said Cynthia. ”I want to hear this.”
”You must must hear this,” growled Mr. Morrow, sitting up in his chair with a fierce look. The ogre sighed and peered out the window. ”It's your right and responsibility to know the dangers you face. Do hear this,” growled Mr. Morrow, sitting up in his chair with a fierce look. The ogre sighed and peered out the window. ”It's your right and responsibility to know the dangers you face. Do any any of you know anything about this?” of you know anything about this?”
Max and David glanced at each other. The wind raged outside the cottage; drafts scurried through cracks, causing the candles to flicker. Ignoring David's little shake of the head, Max spoke up.
”I do.”
”What do you know, my boy?” grumbled Mr. Morrow, giving Max his full attention.
”I know that some children-Potentials-have been taken by the Enemy all over the world,” said Max, speaking carefully. ”I know another kid, someone named Mickey Lees, was supposed to be in our cla.s.s. I guess he was last seen with Miss May, who...who died.”
The room was very still; Mr. Morrow looked tired and sad.
”And how do you know this, Max?” asked Mr. Morrow.
”I overheard Ms. Richter talking about it in the Sanctuary. And because the Enemy tried to take me, too.”
Cynthia and Connor gasped; David looked irritated and stared into the fire. Leaning back in his chair, Mr. Morrow jabbed an authoritative finger at Max.
”You tell me everything, everything, McDaniels.” McDaniels.”
For the next ten minutes, he related his encounter with Mrs. Millen. Mr. Morrow puffed thoughtfully on his pipe, shus.h.i.+ng the others when they tried to ask questions. Max glanced at Bob, but the ogre appeared lost in his own thoughts. When Max had finished, Mr. Morrow fixed him with a frank look.
”You're lucky to be alive. Your 'Mrs. Millen' was almost certainly a vye.”
Max's stomach contracted into an icy clump.
”What's a vye?” he asked.
”A shape-s.h.i.+fter,” explained Mr. Morrow. ”Very crafty. Tough to detect and, according to our Agents in the field, appearing in greater numbers. Their real form is terrifying.”
”Does a vye look like a werewolf?” Connor piped from near the fire. His face looked drawn and frightened.
Mr. Morrow fixed him with a peculiar, penetrating glance.
”Yes, Mr. Lynch, it might look like a werewolf to you,” he said, his voice gravelly and low. ”Bear in mind, however, that a vye is not not a werewolf. The vye is larger, with a more distorted and hideous face-part wolf, part jackal, part human, with squinty eyes and a twisted snout. In human form, however, they can be most convincing. You must a werewolf. The vye is larger, with a more distorted and hideous face-part wolf, part jackal, part human, with squinty eyes and a twisted snout. In human form, however, they can be most convincing. You must never never speak to a vye, children! They are clever in their deceits, and their voices are wound with spells to ensnare you.” speak to a vye, children! They are clever in their deceits, and their voices are wound with spells to ensnare you.”
”How would you even know if you're speaking to one?” whispered Cynthia, s.h.i.+vering and scooting closer to the fire.
”There are all kinds of tricks to uncover one, but I'm a strong believer in the gut. If a vye approaches you, Miss Gilley, something will feel very, very wrong in your belly or down the spine. As they prefer to attack when your guard is down, a vye will often seek to gain your confidence first. This may give you an opportunity to identify it before...before it has you.”
A sudden cry pierced the room.
”I remember now!” exclaimed David. ”I've seen seen vyes before!” vyes before!”
”We all did, David,” said Connor rea.s.suringly, ”from the hallway window last semester. That must have been a vye....”
”No,” said David, shaking his head. ”Back in Colorado, before I came to Rowan. I was walking home through the woods when I saw someone off the path watching me. Something about him scared me and I walked faster. He started to follow and I ran as fast as I could. He started laughing; he was making fun of me for running slow.” David began coughing, and it was several seconds before he could continue. ”I turned around and he was coming after me on all fours. Changing shape, catching up, and laughing the whole time.”
Max had never seen David like this before. His voice was so faint and small; he looked and sounded traumatized.
”I tripped,” he continued. ”I saw another one coming at me through the woods.... I think I screamed and fainted. When I woke up, they were gone. So were the trees around me.... Everything was burned. I know it sounds crazy, but I think that it all happened.”
”I believe you,” rumbled Mr. Morrow, patting David's shoulder. The instructor convulsed with a sudden fit of wheezing laughter. ”Imagine those poor vyes' shock when they realized-pardon the expression-that they'd bitten off more than they could chew! Thinking they're toying with a poor helpless boy only to encounter him him instead!” His laughter sputtered into hacking coughs. instead!” His laughter sputtered into hacking coughs.
”What are you talking about, Mr. Morrow?” huffed Cynthia. ”David could have been killed!”
”No, Miss Gilley,” said Mr. Morrow, rubbing his hand over his white stubble. ”I do not think two vyes are likely to be the downfall of our Mr. Menlo. And in any case, I do not believe the Enemy is merely out to take the lives of our unsuspecting young ones. I fear a darker purpose is at work.”
”Like what? What would the Enemy want with Potentials?” asked Connor.
Max and David glanced at each other again. Although David had deciphered the reasons behind the stolen paintings, the stolen Potentials remained a mystery.
”Our Potentials are our lifeblood,” rumbled Mr. Morrow. ”If the Enemy saps our youth, our future withers. It would be devastating to kill off our Potentials, but it would be much worse should they become corrupted to the Enemy's will. Our ranks would dwindle while theirs grew stronger. The key question is how? how? How are they managing to reach our Potentials before we do? For that I have no answer, but I fear the worst....” How are they managing to reach our Potentials before we do? For that I have no answer, but I fear the worst....”
”And what's that?” ventured Cynthia weakly.
”Treachery!” boomed Mr. Morrow, pounding his fist into his hand. ”Betrayal! Treason against humanity by one of our own! Some here scoff at the notion, but these same people can't tell me how our Potentials are being s.n.a.t.c.hed away. And they have no answers for the breach we suffered last autumn.” boomed Mr. Morrow, pounding his fist into his hand. ”Betrayal! Treason against humanity by one of our own! Some here scoff at the notion, but these same people can't tell me how our Potentials are being s.n.a.t.c.hed away. And they have no answers for the breach we suffered last autumn.”