The Dragon's Tooth (24 page)

He extended his thin arms out from his sides. Behind him, the two gilled men stepped forward and began removing his coat.

Phoenix pulled his arms free of the stained sleeves and crouched in front of Daniel. His black hair began to lighten to white. His pale eyes muddied. His teeth lengthened, and a growl rumbled in his throat. “Now you must meet Mr. Ashes.”

Rocking forward, Daniel slammed his fist into the man’s face.

sixteen

CONFESSION

C
YRUS SHRUGGED HIS
blankets farther up around his shoulders. He had been awake for a while, but the blankets were warm, the stone bed was cushioned perfectly to his shape, and the night had been long, too much of it spent in the hospital wing watching Nolan writhe. But Horace was doing better—the nurses thought he might even wake soon. And Gunner had been there, watching his uncle breathe and gloating over Maxi’s death.

Cyrus’s sleep had been full of dreams, full of his fist swinging and bones crunching and Patricia swallowing people whole. But all dreams led to the one dream, and eventually, he’d ended up back in the kitchen of the California house. But this time, he’d been holding the tooth in one hand and the keys in the other. This time, he’d walked all the way outside into the rain, and his memory-vision had been clear.

He’d seen the man in the truck.

There was no way to tell what time it was without rolling over and checking the stilted clock. For the past hour, rolling over had seemed like way too much effort. It still did. His mind was too busy chewing.

Antigone’s breathing was steady—slow, out of sync with the ticking clock. She sniffed. No. The sniff was wrong. A throat cleared.

Cyrus whipped over and sat up. Antigone was sleeping, virtually invisible in her nest of blankets. Seated one alcove over, Rupert Greeves was reading a book. At least, he had been reading. Now his eyes were on Cyrus. His forehead and jaw were bandaged. So was his left hand.

“What are you doing here?” Cyrus asked.

Rupert smiled. “Waiting for you to wake up. You earned your sleep yesterday.” He raised his eyebrows, scrunching the bandage above them. “And down here, I do not have so many Keepers demanding access to a certain shard of tooth for their research or the monks asserting ownership and demanding that I immediately execute all the occupants of the Burials. Even some of the Sages have heard the news and wandered out from their rooms. Where is it?”

Cyrus slid Patricia off his neck and held up her silver body. The keys clinked against the tooth as she slowly squirmed, rubbing against Cyrus’s skin. Cyrus had liked her already. He could have spent an entire day just watching her move. But after yesterday, he loved her.

Rupert nodded. “Good. Put it back on.”

“Her,” Cyrus said. “She’s named Patricia.” She went back around his neck. “Why did you let me keep the tooth?”

“Because that is something not one of my enemies would expect me to do. And because I felt that I should.”

Cyrus inhaled slowly, gathering courage. He looked straight into Rupert’s eyes.

“It was you,” he said quietly. “In the truck. The day our dad died. I remember your beard.”

Yawning, Antigone pushed back her blankets. She blinked, looked at Rupert, at Cyrus, and sat up. “What’s going on?”

Rupert Greeves set his book down and cleared his throat. Cyrus watched the man’s big hands clench, and his dark skin glistened with moisture. He tugged at what remained of his short, pointed beard and then scratched the nest of old scars high on his chest.

Cyrus shifted on his seat. Antigone glanced at her brother, eyebrows up, eyes wide.

Rupert sighed and ran his bandaged hand across his scalp. “Two years ago, I was contacted by Skelton. He was insulting, but he was also warning me. Phoenix was quite near to recovering the last remaining shard of the Dragon’s Tooth.” He looked up. “I should tell you what the tooth is.”

“We know,” said Cyrus. “We’ve heard the story.”

Greeves nodded. “Of course. Then you know that it was supposed to be destroyed—even the shards. Well-meaning fools did some horrible things with the Resurrection Stones.” He looked around the little room. “Skelton told me that Phoenix knew where the last shard was—in a place where your father and I had once searched for it. Skelton and others were being sent to collect it, but he wanted me to get there first. He did not want Phoenix to have it. The man was becoming too vile—even for Billy Bones.”

Rupert looked into Cyrus’s eyes, and then turned to Antigone. “There weren’t many people I could trust, and I was in a hurry. Your family had moved to Northern California, quite close to where I needed to be. I knew your father could help me, and I arrived at your house a few hours later—right before a storm. I saw you both then. Briefly. I did not know if you had seen me.”

Antigone sat up like she’d been shocked. “What? You said two years ago. Two years ago when?”

Cyrus couldn’t find words. Blinking, he could see his father smiling, the kitchen door closing, and the back of two heads as the truck bounced away.

Antigone tucked back her hair and stood up. “You were the one! How? You’re supposed to be dead. Were you in the boat? What were you doing? Dad called you Rupe, didn’t he? When Mom got home, she totally lost it. She put us in the Red Baron and we drove down onto the beach and just stared at the island until dark and, and …”

Rupert coughed.

Cyrus tried to breathe slowly. The itch in his memory was gone, but it felt much worse. He didn’t want Rupert to tell the story. He didn’t want to hear what had happened. He was falling again, he was tumbling toward something unknown but awful. He was going to hear something that could never, ever be changed.

His heart kicked hard against his ribs.

Antigone shoved her fingernails between her teeth to keep from talking.

“I was on the island—”

“Elephant Island,” she said. “With all the elephant seals. The sharks live around it. It’s illegal to go on it.”

“Yes.”

“With the ruined mansion,” she added. “And the smashed lighthouse and the tidal caves.”

“Tigs!” Cyrus yelped. He couldn’t have looked away from Rupert’s face if he’d wanted. He needed this over.

“All those things, yes,” Rupert said. “May I go on?”

Antigone nodded, chewing.

“We anchored the boat beneath a small cliff, and the sun was setting by the time we reached the ruined mansion. It was impossible to hear anything with the barking and bellowing seals, and they hated our flashlights. The animals were in every room of the house—upstairs and down—except the one Skelton had told us to search. That room was full of Phoenix’s men. Skelton was with them. They’d gotten there too soon, and we hadn’t seen their boat anchored in a tidal cave.

“We ran. We ran down through that rickety ruin of a mansion, tripping over seals and slipping in their scum. And then we ran out across the rocks. They were shooting at us before we reached the water—bullets, not fire. One of them hit me in the shoulder. I fell on the rocks and was knocked unconscious.

“Your father must have carried me, because when I came to, I was washing around in the bottom of our sinking boat—the frigid water had stopped my bleeding. The waves were pounding us through the jagged boneyard just off the cape, and the hull was cracked and cracking further. Cold water was rushing in. Your father was slumped over the wheel. He’d been shot in the back. More than once.

“I tried to reach him, but the hull was splitting fast, and the swell was towering. Before I reached him, we rolled beneath one final monstrous wave, the boat shattered, and I was left clinging to flotsam. Your father was gone.

“The boat flipped and sank not far from the cliff. The wash of the next wave slammed me up on the rocks, and I managed to grab on. Then I climbed.

“That night, while we were being chased, Skelton palmed the tooth. The next morning, knowing Phoenix would uncover his betrayal, he went on the run. If I had died, he would have felt no grief, no guilt at all. But your father, he loved. And that is the reason why you were there when his running ended, the reason why he made you his Acolytes and tried to leave you everything, the reason why he placed that tooth in your hands, Cyrus Smith. Your father died for it. And I will not be the one to take it from you.”

Cyrus bit his lip. His eyes were blurry. His hand was at his throat, gripping the sheath. Antigone’s thumbnail was bleeding. She still chewed, staring at the big man, the man who had taken her father to his death.

“He didn’t drown?” she asked quietly. “I always pictured him drowning, shivering in the water. I had dreams.”

Rupert shook his head. “He did not drown.”

Cyrus shut his eyes. He felt cold and sick in his stomach, hot and angry in his head. His pulse drummed in his temples.

“My mom,” Antigone said quietly. “She tried to swim out. In freezing water.”

Rupert lowered his head. “I know.”

“Dan pulled her out. She never woke up.”

Rupert nodded.

Cyrus jumped to his feet, wiping hot tears from his face, stepping forward. “You did nothing for us! Our dad saved your life. Two years and you never said anything! You never even told us what happened.”

“I did several things,” Rupert said quietly, “none of which make up for what you lost. I was the one who bought your California house. That money has kept you alive these two years.”

“Why didn’t you buy the motel?” Antigone said. “We hated the motel. That’s what we wanted to get rid of. We all cried when Dan sold the house.”

“It was better that you be closer to Ashtown. In violation of a number of protocols, I sent Eleanor Eldridge to inhabit the Archer Motel and protect you.”

“That didn’t work,” Antigone said coldly. “Now she’s dead, too.”

“Yes. And these hands will bury her.” Rupert’s jaw pumped. “I thought the Archer could provide for you. When it didn’t, I left what money I could for Daniel to find.”

“You came into the Archer?” Cyrus asked.

Rupert nodded. “It had belonged to Skelton—he used it as a club for his more rebellious understudies and recruits. He gave the motel to your parents when your father was first expelled. It was all they had. Your father gave me a key. Because of your mother, I had never used it.”

Antigone sat down. “Why didn’t you just tell us every thing?”

“Your father wanted you to know nothing about the O of B, and to have nothing to do with it. When I became a Keeper, I offered to bring Daniel in as my Acolyte. Lawrence nearly threw me through a window. Katie, your mother, hated me, too. To her, I was a traitor. I represented all that had been stolen from her husband as a result of his love for her. It was difficult for me to accept, but I honored it.”

“That’s really dumb,” Antigone muttered. “Our dad was dead, our mom was in a coma, and poor Dan, trying to take care of us. Forget what they wanted, you should have just done what you thought was best.”

Rupert Greeves met her eyes. “Miss Smith,” he said calmly. “That is exactly what I did. But now you are here, and many things have changed.”

Cyrus swallowed hard. “Why don’t you just take the tooth? I don’t want it.”

Rupert sighed and shook his head. “Maximilien is dead. Later, I will take you to the Brendan. He can decide the tooth’s fate.”

“The Brendan?” Cyrus asked. “Who is he? Where is he?”

“You will know soon enough.” He glanced at Antigone. “Today, the two of you should meet with tutors. Without Mrs. Eldridge, I am now your Keeper. I will train you both, but not in every field—I know too little myself. Nolan—when he shows his face again—is more than capable with languages.”

“Shows his face?” Cyrus asked. “What do you mean? How bad was he burned?”

Rupert smiled. “Nolan is fine. He peels quickly. But he hates hospitals and doctors, and he disappeared last night. I asked him to go on the run for a while—act like he stole something important.” He turned to Antigone. “Did Eleanor, Mrs. Eldridge, mention any available tutors?”

Antigone nodded. “Diana Boone, Llewellyn Douglas, somebody called Jax, you, and some others I don’t remember.” She looked at her brother, and then at the few retrieved papers and semicharred Latin books beside Cyrus’s jacket on the floor.

“That’s good enough for a start,” Rupert said, standing. He stiffened and cleared his throat. “Acolytes, your Keeper, Eleanor Elizabeth Eldridge, lies in the chapel, awaiting burial. We shall not all die, but we shall all be changed.” Stepping forward, he gripped Cyrus’s shoulder with one hand and Antigone’s with the other. Surprised, Cyrus began to twitch against the strong grip, but stopped himself when he saw the man’s face. Rupert’s eyes were soft with grief, his voice was a chant.