The White Assassin (10 page)

Cobweb and Montague approached Billycan, one on each side. “Do what he says,” said Montague. “We are with them. Your reign, Lord Billycan, is over.”

The voice came from right behind him now. “You heard me, rat. Stand down!”

Relaxing his digits and popping his neck, Billycan slowly turned around and faced Juniper. He exhaled, a slight grin surfacing on his pale lips. “So … you’ve found me.”

“Yes,” said Juniper, “and with far less trouble than we imagined. The horde you’ve so fondly focused your attentions on shares this swamp with a bat colony, a colony originally from Trillium. Their elder is an old and dear friend of mine.”

Calmly stroking his whiskers, Billycan gave Juniper a once-over. “You somehow look different than I recall,” he said. “That triumphant look you typically have smeared across your weathered face has all but vanished.” Stepping closer, Billycan stared fixedly at Juniper. “Yes. Something has indeed changed.” He tapped his chin. “Billycan wonders what it could be.”

Juniper was silent. Vincent, however, was not. “We’ve come to collect you, rat!” he said, lunging forward with his spear, Victor and Suttor right behind him. “It’s time to pay for your crimes.”

Billycan’s face brightened. He laughed raucously, clearly unimpressed. He looked only at Juniper. “How very charming, the eldest son of Julius Nightshade by your side.” He picked at his claws, as if the whole scene had grown rather tedious. “In fact, it appears all
your merry band of miscreants is here, your filthy Loyalist friends and traitorous Kill Army soldiers.” Billycan’s eyes narrowed to blood-red pits. “Except for the ones I killed, of course.”

“Enough!” said Juniper. “You have nowhere to run this time, and no one to protect you.” He nodded at the horrified swamp rats. “Your vicious horde is no more vicious than the Kill Army you failed to control three years ago. You prey on the young and the innocent, compelling them to do your bidding, but no more!”

Suddenly there was a thunderous rustle in the trees. Hooves pounded nearby. The ground quaked. The snakes spat in fear, calling out from all sides of the plantation. “Boars!” they hissed. “Boars!”

Wicker, the snake leader, sailed through the grass. “They’re coming, wild boars, they’re angry! We can feel it in their gait!”

Dresden swooped in from above. “Juniper, get those rats out of here. A clan of boars is mere moments away! They surely smelled the feast! They know their kinsmen has been killed—eaten—the worst possible offense! You must go now!”

Billycan’s eyes darted around, searching for an escape route. Taking his chance, he threw his body into Montague, knocking him to the ground. Hurling snakes by their necks as they tried to block him, he raced into the woods, swiftly vanishing from view.

“Telula!” called Cotton, diving into the trees. “I see him!” Telula soared to her brother.

Juniper grabbed Vincent as he ran for the woods. “No!” he shouted. “The boars will surely kill the first rat they see! They are set on vengeance.”

“But he’s getting away!” shouted Vincent.

“Think of Clover,” Juniper said. “She’s counting on your return. Billycan has already taken your family! Don’t let him take away your future! Let the bats follow him now.”

Telula and Cotton took to the woods, swooping in and out, weaving through the network of trees as they followed Billycan’s ghost-like form through the forest.

“He’s going directly toward the boars!” shouted Cotton to his sister. “What is he thinking?”

“He’s thinking the others won’t follow,” she panted, furiously pumping her wings. “He’d rather face the wild boars than his own kind. Their punishment will be far gentler.”

“But they’ll kill him!” said Cotton.

“Exactly!”

His entire body heaving, Billycan raced in the direction of the boars. Anything was better than decaying in a cell, even a slow, torturous death. Death,
that
he could accept, but not captivity—never again. He came upon a pathway, a fork in the road. Perfect, he thought. A hollow tree stood before him—the boars would never find him in there. Laughing, he slipped in, huffing madly as he caught his breath.

He listened closely. The crashing hooves were only seconds away now. They’d pass him up, heading straight for the plantation, mowing down the horde, Juniper, and any other foolish creature that stood in their way. Then suddenly the hooves stopped completely. Stillness all around him, deafening silence. Billycan concentrated. His ears perked at a sound. Breathing—hard, heavy pants coming from just outside the tree.

“There,” a boar grunted loudly. “In there!”

“That’s him!” snarled another. “The scent from the bloody pit. Block the hole! He’s mine!”

Suddenly two giant razorbacks crammed their tusked heads into the hollow, their black eyes filled with fury. They got down on their knees, allowing no room for Billycan to escape.

“Yes,” snorted one, “he is here!”

“You belong to Merg now, murderer!” the other shouted at Billycan. “You are his!”

The mighty boar Merg banged his great head against the hollow tree, thrashing and pounding until his whole face bled. The wood finally burst as his sharp tusks cracked through the tree, crushing it to splinters. “You!” he hollered, blood spraying from his nose. “You are mine! You will die tonight, fiend from Hell!”

Slick from the boar’s blood, Billycan tried in vain to scrabble up the inside of the tree.

“Justice is mine!” said the boar, grinning madly. “You took my brother. Now I take you!” The boar suddenly pitched forward, thrusting his entire body at the tree. He gouged Billycan with his tusk, lifting him into the air. “You are a stealer of family!”

The white rat went limp.

T
ELULA AND COTTON WATCHED
from above as the ancient tree plummeted to the ground, sending a tremor through the entire swamp. The boar clan galloped off into the night as speedily as they’d arrived. Their task was done.

“It’s over,” said Telula. “They must have finished him.”

“Look,” said Cotton, flying toward the base of the tree. Telula followed. “There, I see him.”

The bats landed on a low-hanging branch and observed the body. Billycan lay in the mud, a tangle of twisted limbs. He was flat on his belly, a bleeding arm cocked over his neck, lying facedown on the ground. Cotton had spotted the tip of an ear, the only part of him still white.

“Poke him,” said Telula. “See if he moves.”

Cotton scoffed. “I’m not going near him, not a chance! What if he’s alive? You heard what father and Juniper said about him.”

“
Look
at him!” said Telula. “Even if he’s alive, he’s not going to hurt you. I doubt he can even wiggle a claw.”

Cotton stood resolutely on the branch, shaking his head.

“Fine,” said Telula. She flew off the branch and landed next to the wilted rat in the mud.

“Telula!” hissed Cotton. “Don’t go near him! Stay there.”

With that, Cotton took wing, gently landing beside Billycan. Slowly he crept next to the rat. Cotton watched him closely for any kind of movement. His body was stiff and still.

Finally he unfurled a wing, holding it so close to Billycan it nearly touched the rat’s muddied snout, checking for even the smallest of breaths. Cotton waited for what felt like an awfully long time.

“Well?” whispered Telula nervously.

“Nothing … he’s dead.”

“Killed by a boar,” said Juniper.

“The boar gouged him with its tusk,” said Telula. “It sliced his chest and shoulder clear through and flung him over its head and into the mud—dead.”

“Children, can you show me where you found him?” asked Juniper. “I need to see for myself.” He looked at Vincent and Carn. “We all need to see.”

“He’s at the base of the hollow tree,” said Cotton. “I’ll take you.”

“You go ahead,” said Carn to Juniper. “I need to stay here.” He nodded over to Thicket and Stono, both still looking utterly confused.

“Good lad,” said Juniper. “We’ll be back soon enough.”

The Council vanished into the woods with Cotton.

Even after the snakes had departed, the horde sat stunned in a huddled, trembling mass. Oleander had her arm around Thicket. Mannux
spoke to Stono, trying to explain it all. Carn approached. “Thicket, Stono,” he said softly, “I’m so sorry for not telling you who I really was. I felt I had no choice. I didn’t think you’d believe me if I told you what Billycan was really after, what kind of rat he really was. I was afraid of what you might do.”

Finally looking up from the ground, Thicket spoke. “Seems everybody afraid of us,” she said. “Oleander, Mannux, they’re like you, and you’re all worried we’ll do you harm. I remember what happened a long time back. Those rats—the ones like you—they got hurt real bad because some of us got scared. It wasn’t right, what happened to them. I always knew it … never said it.”

Oleander rested her head on her cousin’s shoulder. “It’s time we all spoke up around here. No more silence.” She smiled over at Cobweb and Montague, both crouching on their haunches, playing with some children who already seemed to have forgotten the horrible night. “Look,” she said, gazing up at the sky. “Morning has broken.”

“He’s gone,” said Juniper bleakly.

Cotton’s whole body slumped. “I thought he was dead.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” said Cole. “Too wounded to grab you, he probably knew if he held his breath long enough and lay still, you’d think he was dead.”

“Any one of us would have reached the same conclusion,” said Suttor. “How could any rat live through an attack like that—gouged by a boar?”

Thin shafts of light fought their way through the cypresses, shedding spots of pale daylight through the woods.

Inspecting the ground, Juniper touched it with his paw, sniffing.

Suddenly he sprang up. Following the ground with his eyes, he walked swiftly.

“Juniper,” said Vincent, “where are you going?”

“Come along,” said Juniper, “quickly now—it’s a trail.”

“What sort of trail?” asked Vincent.

“A trail of blood.”

“This is a great deal of blood,” said Cole. “I don’t know how he’s still alive, let alone upright.”

“I don’t put anything past him,” said Juniper. “I suppose if I could survive his attack in the Combs”—he tapped his eye patch—“he could survive even a boar’s attack. After all that’s transpired, I imagine he could survive anything.”

“Just like a cockroach,” muttered Vincent.

They stopped at the plantation’s border. The sun now high, they all could clearly see the trail of blood twisting through the grass. It led around the manor, straight to the back door.

“The manor has been his home for the last three years,” said Juniper. “He’s come back here to die. Ulrich and Ragan, go round up the others. Warn them what’s afoot. Get Carn. You three guard the front of the manor.” The twins dashed away.

Juniper spotted Cotton, hovering over their heads. “Cotton,
fetch your father. Ask him to direct the entire colony around the windows of the manor. He cannot escape this time. Cole, Vincent, Suttor, you come with me.” Juniper stared at the bloody trail leading to the door. “This ends now.”

Gently shutting the screen door behind them, they entered the manor. The scent of fresh blood filled the air. Suddenly there was a crash—glass breaking somewhere in the manor.