Foxheart (19 page)

“T
hese are not the bones of animals, Fox,” said Quicksilver calmly, though calm was not at all what she felt.

“Indeed they're not.” Fox sniffed a human skull, nudged it with his snout. “Some have been here a long time. Others . . . not so long.”

Quicksilver felt suddenly very aware of her own skeleton. Such a fragile thing it was, kept in place by a sack of skin. She swallowed. “Well, how are we supposed to—?”

She whirled, at the same moment Fox did. They had both felt the same tug—and it felt somehow . . . mischievous.

Here. Almost.

Quicksilver's pack shuddered and jerked; the hare skeleton cried out shrilly.

Anastazia plopped down in the midst of the bones as though preparing to have a picnic. When she caught Quicksilver and Fox staring at her, she smiled and waved.

Quicksilver gritted her teeth. “Leave her for the moment. I think we're close.”

She took a step, and then stopped—for there, right before her feet, appeared a skeleton. Smaller than the others, more delicate, and glowing a bright blue.

Quicksilver crouched, peering at the skull's huge eye sockets, elegant jaw, and sharp fangs. A cat.
The
cat, one of the First Monsters. The power drifting off it, reverberating up through her own bones, was unmistakable—hot and thrumming.

And though it was no longer alive, Quicksilver could have sworn it had just
winked
at them.

She exchanged a glance with Fox as she bent to retrieve the skeleton. “That . . . was easy.”

But just as her fingers brushed the skeleton, it vanished. The bones in her pack slammed themselves against her with a hiss.

Quicksilver jumped back. “Where did it go? I
had
it!”

There.
Fox pointed with his snout at a spot a few paces away, where the cat skeleton reappeared, twinkling with satisfaction. They ran for it, but the piles of bones on the cavern floor came midway up Quicksilver's calves, slowing her down. The sharp bits of broken bones scraped her legs, snagged her skirts. She kicked them in frustration. Fox darted ahead with a soft flash of light, swooped down—

But the skeleton disappeared once more.

Quicksilver growled. “What is it
doing
?”

“Anastazia said they might be spelled to move around from place to place, to avoid being discovered,” Fox reminded her.

“Well, how are we supposed to—?” But then the skeleton reappeared only a few paces away. “Fox!” she cried, flinging him after it.

They chased the cat around the chamber, Quicksilver hissing every foul word she could think of under her breath. Every time they got close, the skeleton disappeared and then reappeared somewhere else. Quicksilver coughed, her throat full of dust. She was ready to sit down, right there in all those bones, and scream—when the cat skeleton appeared at her feet.

She froze, breathing hard.
Fox. Careful, now.

Fox, now in his mouse form, inched his way closer.
Quicksilver crouched as slowly as she could. They reached for the skeleton at the same moment, and this time, when Quicksilver put her hand on the skull, it stayed put.

Hurry, master!

She gathered up the skeleton, though touching it felt like digging through a snarl of briars, and put it in the pouch with its snowy hare brother. Once she had drawn the strings of her pack shut with both skeletons safely inside, she sat back on her heels and sighed, her hands throbbing from the sting of the cat skeleton's magic.

From inside her pack came the sound of a purr. A sense of relief washed over her, and she wondered if it was not only her own, but if the hare and cat skeletons were relieved too, glad to be together once more.

They and their monsters were born out of the same pool of magic, the same ancient star—forever connected, forever sisters and brothers.

“We did it,” Fox said quietly. “That's two. Now we only need five more.”

And still, to Quicksilver's mind, it felt too easy. What had convinced the skeleton to stop taunting them? Would it soon disappear again?

I suppose there's no knowing,
Fox said.
Whatever we do, can we get out of here first? I don't much like the smell of this place.

“Where in the name of the stars are we?” asked Anastazia from behind them.

Quicksilver turned to find Anastazia sitting where they had left her, looking confused but clear-eyed, herself once more.

Quicksilver sighed. “Anastazia? You're all right?”

“I'm fine, I—” Anastazia fiddled with her ruffled collar. “Quicksilver, I fear . . . I may not be entirely well. When I interfered with the Wolf King, and broke your connection with him . . . do you remember how Olli said that magic flew everywhere, like shattered glass? I fear some of that shattered magic might have hit me, and . . . well, after all, it takes a great patchwork of spells to keep me going in the first place after all these years, and . . .”

Then Anastazia's face turned soft and blank. She gazed up at Quicksilver. “Are we to play a game? I do so love games.”

Quicksilver had to look away. If Anastazia were indeed ill from breaking the mind magic connection, then there might not be a way to heal her. And if they couldn't . . . the idea of finding the First Monsters' skeletons without her made Quicksilver want to curl up in a ball right then and there.

Thankfully, these morose thoughts lasted for only a few seconds.

“Why, yes,” Quicksilver said, dusting herself off, “we are indeed going to play a game. It's called Let's Leave the Creepy Cave and Go Back to the Party.”

“And then Leave the Party as Quickly as Possible, and Never Attend Another One?” Fox suggested hopefully.

Quicksilver grinned. “Sounds like the best game I can imagine—”

A noise from behind her made her pause. A rattling, sliding sort of noise.

“Friends!” cried Anastazia, waving over Quicksilver's shoulder. “Hello! Come and play with us!”

A feeling of dread crept over Quicksilver, and when she turned to see who Anastazia was talking to, she saw a hundred human skeletons rising from the sea of bones around her.

T
he skeletons wore jewels around their necks and crowns on their heads. Some carried scepters, which they used to stab the stone floor and drag themselves forward. Wisps of hair clung to their chins; their ragged cloaks stank of sewage.

In Quicksilver's pack, the snowy hare and the cat shrieked and whined. Under her skirts, the pack strained toward the exit, urging her to move.

Quicksilver grabbed Anastazia's arm, pulled her to her feet, and ran. The skeletons followed—some running, others
crawling. Their breath wheezed and rattled. Their bony feet slapped against the stone floor.

Anastazia's giggles died abruptly. “Have I gone completely mad, or are there skeletons coming at us?”

Quicksilver tugged Anastazia on, back up the twisting stone passages—but now they were slippery, nearly impassable, coated with gunk and slime. Something had changed. A force pushed at Quicksilver like an invisible hand against her chest, trying to slow her progress. Every few steps, her feet went out from under her, and Fox swooped over in a glowing, dog-shaped cloud to cushion her fall.

“Don't worry about me!” Quicksilver cried, crawling up the passage on her hands and knees. “Worry about
them
!” She flung her arm behind her and thought to Fox,
Break some bones.

Fox flew back toward the skeletons, an enormous, growling dog with huge, hulking shoulders. He zipped between them and kicked bones from their frames. A femur crumbled at the lash of his tail; a cluster of phalanges scattered across the ground like a handful of dice.

Quicksilver emerged into the main cavern, panting hard. Dragging Anastazia had left her arm feeling sore and burning. Anastazia was slick with sweat, her skin tinged a pale yellow-green.

“Quicksilver,” gasped Anastazia as the sounds of Fox battling the skeletons rang through the cavern, “if you have to leave me—”

“I won't, so don't bother asking.”

“I'm not asking, I'm ordering.”

“You're not a sister, and you're not my mother.”

Anastazia drew herself up, her violet eyes flashing. “I'm your elder—”

A yelp sounded from behind them. Quicksilver's heart seized.
To me!
she cried, and Fox appeared in her arms as a tiny, trembling pup.

There are so many of them,
he panted.
I'm sorry, master. I need a moment.

“We don't have a moment, Fox,” Quicksilver replied grimly. “Just hold on to me.”

He obeyed, pressing his face into her chest and digging his claws into her shirt. Quicksilver ran for the stairs that snaked up the side of the sheer black chasm, Anastazia right on her heels. But as they ran, the ground beneath them began to shake. Quicksilver fell hard and hit her head. Her vision tilted and swam.

The wave of skeletons broke and became chaos. Some of
them fell into the chasm; others dangled from the edge, swinging over the endless dark. Others crawled across the quaking ground toward Quicksilver, Fox, and Anastazia, pushing past one another with blank-eyed hunger.

A bony hand grabbed Quicksilver's foot; she kicked wildly. A set of cracked teeth bit down on her leg, and she screamed.

With a furious bark, Fox tried to shift into his dog self and defend her. Quicksilver felt the urge in his heart, ferocious and blazing. But she held him tight, clamping down on his magic.

No, Fox! Save your strength!

Anastazia kicked away two skeletons and grabbed Quicksilver, pulling her to her feet. They started up the stairs again, but when Anastazia's foot touched the first step, the entire staircase erupted into flame.

She cried out and stumbled back. Quicksilver sent Fox to her, and he wrapped himself around her, dousing the flames on her boot.

“Are you all right?” Quicksilver shouted above the roar of the flames and the rumbling rock.

“Fine,” yelled Anastazia, a shaky hand at her throat. “My boot, however, is ruined.”

“Fox, can you get us to the top, past the fire?”

Fox looked up at her forlornly, panting so hard his entire body trembled. “Putting out the fire took the last of me, master. I need more time to recover. We're still fairly new at this, you know.”

The skeletons were almost upon them, a sea of bones and broken jaws and reaching hands. Quicksilver yanked out her pack from under her skirts and drew out the cat skull. It glowed a bright blue, scorching hot against her palm, but she held fast.

“Quicksilver, don't be a fool—” Anastazia protested.

“Do you want this?” Quicksilver called out. She held the skull up high, and the skeletons froze, their empty eye sockets trained on it. “Pretty, isn't it? Don't you want it back?”

The skull growled softly, like an annoyed cat, but Quicksilver ignored it. The mob of skeletons watched the skull as she swung it back and forth above her head. As one, the skeletons reached for the cat skull, howling,
“Mine, mine, mine!”

“Anastazia, when I say run, follow me and run as fast as you can,” said Quicksilver.

Anastazia gasped. “Oh! Is this a new game?”

Fox,
do you think you have enough strength to at least catch this thing before it falls to the bottom?

I can manage that much
, Fox answered.
Only that much.

It would have to do.

“If you want it,” Quicksilver shouted coyly to the skeletons, “then you'll have to catch it!”

Then she flung the skull over the side of the chasm.

In one huge, scrambling wave, the skeletons jumped for the skull, clawing, reaching, reaching . . . and diving off the cliff into blackness.

Fox, go!
Quicksilver thought to him, but he was already away, soaring after the falling skull as a faint yellow bird.

Quicksilver tied the skeletons' pouch shut, threw her pack over her shoulders, and ran in the opposite direction, away from the chasm and the fire. She pulled Anastazia after her and sent as much love and strength as she could to Fox.

I'm here, Fox, I'm here. I'm not leaving you. Come back to me. I'm here.

He did not answer, but she felt him—still there, wings still beating. Careening, flying through blackness, reaching, reaching . . .

Some skeletons had not fallen for the trick. They chased after Quicksilver, crawling lightning fast, like giant bony spiders. They grabbed her and threw her to the ground. She kicked them and sprang back up, bleeding where she'd fallen. Anastazia was
half running, half crawling, trying to kick off the torso of a skeleton that clung to her skirt and wouldn't let go.

A soft flash of light, and Fox reappeared—an even smaller puppy in her arms, quivering and helpless. His front paws held the cat skull, which seemed to be in a fit of temper—hissing and yowling as any angry cat might.

“You did it, Fox!” She kept her voice strong as she ran, even though the sight of him frightened her.

“
We
did it, master,” he whispered. “But where are we going?”

“No idea. I hadn't thought ahead that far.”

“I think our path is clear,” said Anastazia, jogging unsteadily beside her.

Quicksilver followed her gaze to where the stone floor ended. Past the drop rushed a river of black water. From somewhere not too far away came the roar of a waterfall.

“You don't mean it,” said Fox.

“We have to.” She paused, set Fox down beside her. “Hold on to that skull, Fox, whatever you do, and stay close. Anastazia, can you swim?”

“Like a fish!” she called cheerfully.

Quicksilver allowed herself one pang of worry at Anastazia's gleefully oblivious expression. Then she grabbed Anastazia's hand,
pinched her own nose shut with the other, and jumped, Fox at her heels.

Falling into the water was like breaking through a sheet of putrid ice. She surfaced, gasping, spitting out sludge. Anastazia, coughing, still clung to her right hand.

“Fox!” Quicksilver cried. Water rushed at her face in waves. Spluttering, looking up, she saw skeletons jumping into the water after them. The current was swift. Cold fingers brushed against her feet, grabbed on, pulled her under.

She inhaled water, kicked, clawed, lost sight of Fox, spun around, opened her eyes, saw a skeleton looming close through the murk, and punched it right in the face. It fell away, and Quicksilver swam back to the surface, gasping and coughing.

Fox found her, jumped onto her neck, and clung there as they struggled through the water. Quicksilver grabbed Anastazia's hand again and kicked until her legs and lungs burned.

“Look, up ahead!” Fox pointed his nose at the round opening of a pipe in front of them, through which they could see a spread of stars and a spray of water.

“Hold on!” Quicksilver cried, just before the river sucked them through the pipe and then spat them out into a quiet black
lake. They plunged under the surface, and the cool, clear water swallowed all sound away.

Quicksilver saw Fox's faint glow in the darkness—and the blue glow of the cat skull still clasped between his paws—and followed him up, kicking as hard as she could.

Fox! I can't breathe!

Keep swimming, master,
came Fox's steady voice.
We're almost there.

When they at last reached land and dragged themselves up onto the shore, Quicksilver's body was weak as a newborn. She coughed up lake water and whispered Anastazia's name.

“Here,” replied her older self, faintly. Trembling, they collapsed into the mud, still holding hands. Fox the pup circled around them, licking warmth back into their skin while the cat skull watched calmly.

“Did they follow us?” Quicksilver squinted back at the lake, lit by the twin moons. The water seemed undisturbed, but she could just see a mob of bony hands reaching out of the sewer pipe, grabbing greedily at the air.

“I'm not sure they can,” Fox mused. “Whoever spelled that cave did a fine job of it.”

“Almost
too
fine a job of it,” Quicksilver muttered, shivering.
She longed fiercely for a hot bath. She wouldn't be able to shake the memory of those cold, bony fingers grabbing her legs any time soon.

A low sound from Fox caught her attention. His ears drooping, he held up Quicksilver's sodden pack from where she had dropped it in the mud.

The pouch containing the bones was safely closed, its contents intact—but the other pouch was empty, its strings hanging loose.

Quicksilver swayed, dizzy with despair.

Their food, what little remained of their money—and, most horribly, the stolen medicines for Sly Boots's parents—had all been lost to the catacombs.