Legacy of the Claw (19 page)

The dogs began to bark loudly. Bailey ducked around a corner of the building and saw a row of basement windows peeking out at ground level. Bailey pulled at the first window but its frame was wet and slippery. It wouldn't budge. A flash of lightning reflected in the glass and for a moment, Bailey saw the faces of two snarling hounds. He turned and faced the dogs that blocked his way back to the dorms. Thunder crashed. Bindley's footsteps echoed as they approached, and then Bailey was almost blinded by the light of Bindley's lantern shining into his face.

He'd been caught.

THE GRASS WAS SLICK with rain and everything smelled of wet dirt; she couldn't track anything over the scent. After a rainfall was no time for hunting.

Above, a large bird took flight, and a spattering of drops fell from the branch it had occupied. She crouched closer to the floor and gazed up—an owl. She stayed still for a moment until it flew out of sight.

Nose to the mud, paws treading softly, she dashed on. Somewhere up ahead was the scent of warm, spilled blood. As she crept along the edge of the trees, the smell of smoke and burning wood became stronger. The presence of humans, none of them her kin.

Her instincts urged her to turn back and hide in darkness. But another urging rose up inside her: her kin's curiosity about these people pressed her forward. For him, she would go on.

She moved alongside the river and saw a passing school of fish, too far below the surface for her to catch. There was a cliff face, where two large rocks rose from the base of the river and met at the top, forming a shelter. Inside was the heat of a flame and humans whispering. There was a woman with long braided hair the color of a gray wolf's in summertime. In her hands she held a ball made of glass and held it to a piece a parchment, studying the light in its orb.

There was movement in the trees; the fur raised on her back and she crouched low once more. An animal to the left let out a low, drawn-out snarl—and a wolf crashed through the trees. There was flesh in its teeth and blood matted on its muzzle, from the nighttime feast still fresh on its lips. She ran away, kicking wet dirt under her paws.

Tremelo opened his eyes, his heart beating hard as Fennel made her escape through the woods. She was fast, and he knew she'd be safe—though it took a moment to fully return to the warmth of his own quarters. His skin tingled with an electric sensation, and he seemed to still taste the wet grass in his nostrils, and the smoke of the campfire in the caves.

He laughed in awe and gratitude. Fennel had found something wonderful.

THE NEXT MORNING, BAILEY sat in an uncomfortable wooden chair in the center of what was normally used as a music classroom, which had been fashioned into a courtroom of sorts. Headmaster Finch and Dean Shonfield sat at a table on a raised platform used for choir rehearsals. In front of him was a menacing semicircle made up of Sucrette, Nillow, Coach Banter, Bindley, and Tremelo. Bailey felt like a prisoner.

Mr. Finch cleared his throat.

“Bailey, you must know how serious this is,” he said, his voice low. “You snuck out of your dormitory and were involved in the destruction of a  …  a pair of  …  well, something very expensive. Is that right, Mr. Loren?” Finch looked at Tremelo, who merely nodded. Bailey felt his face flush.

“We can't have this sneaking around after hours, not from a student with a disadvantage such as yours. You, of all students, should be trying harder to follow the rules,” Finch continued. “Our first thought is to expel you from the school. But we want to give you the chance to say something in your own defense.
Have
you anything to say?”

Bailey had spent the whole morning wondering what he would say at this moment. He considered telling Finch and Shonfield about Tremelo's involvement—it was his teacher who'd secretly given Phi the means to fly. But then both Tremelo
and
Phi would be in trouble, and he couldn't bring himself to do it.

He looked up at Finch.

“No, sir,” he said.

Finch frowned, and looked almost disappointed that Bailey wouldn't defend himself—but Shonfield stared at him through her horn-rimmed glasses, her dismay was clear on her face. She'd been kind to him on his first day here, even without knowing him. Bailey looked away.

“In that case, Mr. Walker, I'm afraid we have no choice but to ask you to pack your things and—”

“I have another idea.”

Tremelo had stood up from his chair. He walked forward, and placed a hand on the back of Bailey's chair as he addressed Finch and Shonfield. The headmaster looked unpleasantly surprised, like he'd just found a frog in his coffee.

“I believe that Bailey's ‘disadvantage,' as you put it, is distracting him. He simply needs proper focus. The Animas bond allows many of us to feel grounded, and the boy doesn't have that to help him. I'd like to propose an independent study. I will tutor the boy and we'll see if his behavior doesn't improve.”

Finch's brow furrowed. Ms. Shonfield took off her glasses and gave them a quick polish.

“If I may say, Mr. Finch,” she said softly, “Bailey has much more to benefit from our guidance. I think Tremelo is right. Turning him away, with an Absence, would be a mistake. Perhaps we set up a trial period. It might allow Tremelo to brush up on some old skills.”

Finch looked long and hard at Tremelo. It was clear they didn't like each other much. Finch seemed like the kind of person who could smell troublemaking miles away, and Tremelo didn't seem very interested in rules. But to Bailey's immense relief, Finch said, “A trial period it is, then. Mr. Loren, the boy is yours to mind. And I must say, I'll be
fascinated
to see what you come up with for him.”

Bailey wanted to cheer with relief. He wouldn't be kicked out of school—and he'd have a chance to learn from Tremelo, for better or worse.

“But, Mr. Walker, you should know you're now treading on very thin ice. Consider yourself on probation. Any missed classes or Scavage practices—indeed, even showing up late to class—will result in your dismissal. You will be as punctual as a porcupine, or you
will
be expelled.”

Bailey nodded vigorously.

“Yes, sir,” he said, still grateful.

As everyone replaced their chairs and shuffled to the exit, Bailey approached Tremelo.

“Thank you, sir,” he said. He already had so many questions—was Tremelo really planning on training him, or was it just another way to keep him out of trouble?

“Don't thank me yet, boy,” Tremelo said as he pulled on a striped jacket over his vest, and patted the pocket to make sure his pipe was still in place. “You're about to work harder than you ever have in your life. We'll have an Awakening from you, if I can help it, by Midwinter Night.”

Bailey's Awakening training began the next afternoon, between History and Scavage practice. When he arrived at Tremelo's classroom, the desks had been pushed away from the center of the room to form an open circle—but his teacher wasn't there.

Bailey heard a faint hum emanating from the office at the back of the classroom, and he wondered if Tremelo had lost himself in his myrgwood and forgotten about their meeting. He knocked on the door. No answer.

Pushing it open, he found Tremelo and Fennel sitting opposite each other, each wearing round metal caps connected by buzzing wires. Tremelo stared intently into the fox's black eyes, and Fennel patiently stared back as a current crackled between them. They didn't seem to notice that Bailey had entered. He knocked loudly on the doorframe, causing Tremelo to jump in his seat.

“What is that?” Bailey asked, as Tremelo hurriedly took his cap, and then Fennel's fox-size one, off and set them down on a desk.

“An experiment,” Tremelo said. “I have a theory about the strength of the bond. Among many.”

“Will I have to wear that?” asked Bailey.

Tremelo looked at him with one eyebrow raised.

“Have to have a willing participant for the other cap, m'boy! But don't worry. Worse comes to worse, we'll just try out a bunch of different beasts and see what causes the thing to spark!” He laughed loudly, though Bailey didn't join him. “I'm only joking,” he said. “We won't resort to electro-therapy yet—instead, pure natural instinct is where you should start. Awakening to one's Animas is about honing your instincts. We'll see what you're capable of, what your strengths are, and then perhaps we'll draw out that Awakening. What do you say?”

Tremelo led Bailey to the center of the main classroom, where he had cleared the desks away from the middle of the room. He had a gramophone set up and held up a handkerchief.

“Blindfold yourself,” Tremelo said, handing it to Bailey. “And don't cheat.”

Bailey did as he was told, though he had reservations about what would happen next. With the handkerchief over his eyes, he couldn't see a thing, not even the faint glow of the overhead lamps through the fabric.

He heard a click and a whir, and a loud, cymbal-crashing march began to play.

“Catch this!” he heard Tremelo yell over the din. Something collided with Bailey's left shoulder.

“Hey!” he yelled, waving his arms in front of himself to block whatever might be coming next.

“All right, take a breath,” said Tremelo. “Stand still, and listen.” Tremelo walked around him in circles as he spoke; his voice seemed to be coming from everywhere. “We already know that physically, you're in top form for someone of your size. But we need to cultivate the awareness of what's around you.”

Something that felt like the heel of a shoe hit Bailey's right arm and he stumbled backward.

“How am I supposed to know something's coming at me with this music playing?” Bailey asked, rubbing his arm.

“I suppose I could say something about how music fine-tunes one's senses, or makes the challenge all the more satisfying once you succeed,” Tremelo responded. “But the simple truth is, I like this march. It's stirring. Carry on!”

Bailey felt something coming. He spun out of the way and reached out. The moment seemed to stretch, and the blaring music became fuzzy noise as he concentrated on his own hand and the air around it. The tips of his fingers brushed the flying object, but didn't quite make the catch.

“Good one!” said Tremelo.

The music stopped and Bailey took off the blindfold.

“I didn't catch it, though.”

“You came very close, very close indeed,” said Tremelo, who was standing by the now-silent gramophone wearing only one shoe. “I'd say it's time we took this lesson outside.”

Bailey and Tremelo walked across the campus, away from the classroom buildings to the edge of the wide green expanse. Tremelo carried a canvas basket full of metal odds and ends that Bailey guessed would soon be thrown at him.

A question had been burning in Bailey since the hearing with Finch.

“Why did you decide to train me?” he asked Tremelo. “I thought you'd given it up after your father died—”

“Where did you hear that? My father has nothing to do with this,” Tremelo said, cutting him off. “I decided to help you because I see something special in you, but as far as my father goes, you and I will keep a silent truce.”

Tremelo smoothed out his mustache, a gesture that made him look as if he was sneering at Bailey.

“Don't think for a second that I'm unaware of your field trip to The White Tiger,” he said. “Digby the bartender likes to tell stories that aren't his to tell, and your curiosity may get you in a great deal of trouble. Are you more interested in uncovering the dead, or are you interested in Awakening to your Animas? Because your questions about things that don't concern your Awakening will only complicate your training.”

Bailey was quiet. He wanted to Awaken more than anything. He was tired of feeling afraid, worrying that he'd never have an Animas. But he also knew that finding his Animas wouldn't tell him everything about who he was and where he'd come from. It wouldn't tell him who the shadows in the woods had been or where Carin had found the sharpened claw. Bailey didn't want to have to choose. He wanted to know everything. But Bailey had a feeling this was a veiled warning, and that the professor was forbidding him from asking about the Velyn too, and King Melore.

As they reached the edge of the Fairmount forest, Tremelo placed a hand on Bailey's shoulder.

“The truth is, there are things I haven't yet figured out myself. I know how frustrating it can be, but you have to focus on your Awakening. Don't try to solve every mystery that comes along—because in the end, you may not want to know the answer.”

* * *

As Bailey continued his training with Tremelo, Fairmount saw the steady change from fall to winter. The trees of the Fairmount forest became more and more barren, and snow began to accumulate on the nearby mountains. Students with hibernating kin were becoming sleepier during the day. But despite their sluggishness, all the students in his dorm were excited about the approach of Midwinter Night, and the end-of-semester break. Bailey was looking forward to time away from his busy schedule, made all the more grueling by daily training sessions with Tremelo, either early in the morning before Homeroon, or in the hour after History class, with only enough time to scarf down dinner before Scavage practice. He planned to spend the break at home in the Lowlands, where his parents always provided the bread for the village feast celebrating the Transformation of the Twin. Midwinter Night was nearing, and Bailey wanted to return home with an Animas that would make his mom and dad proud.

In the last several weeks, Tremelo had Bailey perform strange and risky feats to improve his instincts and awareness. Bailey's favorite was running a circle through the woods with a blindfold on, as Tremelo timed him on his speed and graded him on the number of scrapes on his arms. In the early morning hours, he had Bailey climb trees on campus and leap from the branches to the classroom rooftops. Fennel would follow as he scrambled from building to building, the wind rushing in his ears.

Lessons always ended with an intense staring contest, during which Bailey would have to maintain eye contact with Tremelo, and sometimes Fennel, for whole minutes. At first it seemed crazy, but Bailey had to respect that the professor could not be beaten.

“Eye contact is crucial in the animal kingdom,” Tremelo explained. “It can separate the predator from the prey, the dominant from the dead. It creates an equal footing, where both man and beast can begin to understand each other without the need to attack. That's where the bond begins.”

Bailey found it most challenging when Tremelo would command him to stay completely still and “feel” the woods around him. The first time Tremelo took him into the forest to try it, Bailey found it frustratingly boring.

“If I'm not actually
doing
anything, then how will this improve my instincts?” he asked Tremelo. They'd come to a wide, flat rock a mile into the Fairmount forest. Bailey's task was to sit, and not say or do anything until he “knew” exactly where to go next.

“Sit,” Tremelo answered.

They made themselves comfortable on the rock. Tremelo did not have his pipe with him, Bailey noticed. The air was crisp, and Bailey could smell the smoke of a burning leaf pile wafting to them from the grounds.

“You're too eager,” Tremelo said. “You're building strength and agility with all this running around, but you aren't listening to the environment. How do you expect to know your Animas when it comes if you aren't paying attention? How do expect to share in your kins' experiences when you aren't listening to the world they inhabit?”

Reluctantly, Bailey followed Tremelo's instructions and closed his eyes. Cold breezes stirred the dead leaves on the ground.

“What do you hear?” asked Tremelo.

“Um  …  leaves,” said Bailey.

“What do you smell?”

Bailey sniffed the air.

“Smoke from the leaf pile on campus; wet ground. Cold.”

“Do any of these things make you want to move?” asked Tremelo.

He thought about his answer—he didn't want to be sitting still, so everything made him want to move. But he knew that that wasn't what Tremelo meant. Did anything he sensed seem important enough to go after?

He heard something different then—a snap of a twig and soft haunches pouncing away.

“I heard a rabbit,” he said.