The Book of Joby (95 page)

They were gathered in their sea cave hideout, warded extra heavily, as all once-simple activities were now. Demons.
Real
demons. Hawk had seen two bodies fall from the air himself that awful night, and he had attended the emergency conclave above Mayfield’s gallery with everyone else of the blood, but he still had trouble believing it. He knew he’d have found it all very entertaining in a story or a film, but there was nothing cool about it now. Everyone was frightened all the time. No one was supposed to use their gifts at all except in dire emergencies, or to set protective wards. Basically, Taubolt’s whole battle plan seemed just a long list of different ways to hide. So that’s what they were doing once again today: hiding until someone came up with a better plan.

For Hawk, there was one more frustration. When their elders finally did formulate some more decisive plan, everyone would have their parts to play, except himself. He couldn’t change to any other form. He could cast no power outside himself beyond the mildest moods or lures and a few weak wards. He couldn’t heal people, as even Joby could, apparently, though Joby hadn’t seemed to want to believe it for some reason. He had no prescience. What good was he at all in times like these? His thin blood had always chafed him, but now it felt unbearable.

When he’d voiced these frustrations to Rose, she’d just assured him that his growing abilities as a bard would do far more good out in the wider world someday than any of the “silly little tricks” she and her friends could do. But somehow, Hawk could not see himself standing heroically on Main Street, felling demons with brilliant oratory. Basically, his situation sucked.

“But Ferristaff doesn’t own the land!” Sophie was complaining. “How can he file a harvest plan?”

“Jake says he’s just tryin’ to lure the real owners out of hidin’,” Cal said. “Figures they’ll come out and sue ’im or somethin’ now. Then he’d put the pressure on ’em to sell.”

“Sounds like something you’d do, Cal,” said Jupiter.

“Wanna get punched?” Cal grinned.

“Wanna catch me?” Jupiter parried, flapping his arms like wings.

“But there
aren’t
any owners!” Autumn protested.

“Which is what’s got the Council worried,” Sky said. “If someone doesn’t show up with proof of ownership, Ferristaff might be allowed to buy the land himself.”

“No one can
buy
the
Garden Coast
!” shrilled Sophie.

“We got demons on our butt,” growled Nacho. “No way we should be diddlin’ around with richards like Ferristaff.”

“This must be the bad thing Swami always said was coming,” Autumn sighed.

“Anybody hear where Swami’s gone to yet?” asked Ander.

“Jake just says the same thing as always.” Cal shrugged. “He got sent off on some ‘secret mission’ for the Council.”

“Lucky bastard,” said Nacho. “At least he gets to
do
something.”

“Amen!” said Cal. “Me an’ Cob are gonna pound ’im for not takin’ us along.”

“We shouldn’t just be sitting here,” mumbled Cob, who’d been uncharacteristically quiet ever since the night of the attack. “I’m sick of hiding.”

“What else are we gonna do?” said Cal. “You know somethin’ ’bout fightin’ demons that the Council don’t?”

“Even if we can’t fight demons,” Hawk said, frowning at his tennis shoes, “we should at least be getting rid of idiots like Ferristaff and Foster. Like Nacho said, we shouldn’t have to suffer ticks like that with all this going on. Seems to me we could’ve gotten rid of that trash ages ago, and I think we should have.”

The ensuing silence made Hawk look up to find everybody looking back.

“Not a half-bad idea, Hawk,” said Cal.

“Yeah.” Nacho grinned. “Got any ideas how?”

“Me?”
Hawk said ruefully. “I suppose I could come up with a decent story about it. But that’s pretty much all I’d be good for, as everybody knows.”

“Well, that’s
one
story that would do my heart some good,” Tholomey said, grinning. “Make a nice change from all the other ones I’m hearing now.”

“Yeah!” said Ander. “Tell us how the land was cleansed forever of Ferristaff and Hamilton, oh great bard!”

“And Greensong.” Autumn smiled.

“And don’t forget Foster,” said Nacho.

Surprised to find himself suddenly the center of attention, Hawk took a moment to prepare himself, as Solomon had taught him, his mind quickly sketching out the form his tale would take. “Very well,” he said, imitating
Solomon’s voice and manner, to the amusement of all, “a tale then.” And he launched into a set of stories, each more wildly inventive than the last, about how a band of clever children managed to drive out the four greatest villains in the land in just a single night. By the time his story ended there was rapt silence in the cave, and delighted smiles on every face.

“We gotta
do it
!” Cob shouted, the light of mischief in his eyes again.

“Why not?” crowed Nacho.

“Because we’re not supposed to use our gifts at all right now!” said Sophie, sounding scandalized. “You all know what the Council said. We’re supposed to stay out of sight, not put on a circus for the demons!”

“We could put up wards!” said Jupiter. “Just like we’re doing everywhere else! And have people on the watch until we’re through.”

“And when Hamilton or someone goes running through town telling everyone what happened, and the demons figure out who we are?” Sophie insisted.

“Weren’t you listening?” Nacho scoffed. “We won’ look anything like
us
! How would anybody know who’d done it? I think it’s a great idea! You’re a genius, Hawk!”

Hawk felt suddenly alight with pride. Solomon had always told him that bards were not just entertainers, but counselors to the mighty and leaders of men. Now, Hawk began to realize what he meant. He fiercely wished that Rose were here to see this, not off on the Garden Coast collecting seeds against the worst scenario with Ferristaff.

“It sounds very cool,” said Ander, “but I’m not sure it’s really such a good idea. The Council’s been real clear about laying low. At least we ought to tell them what we want to do, and get permission first.”

“Wuss!” Cob scoffed. “They’d just say no! They don’t think we can do anything.”

“Yes they do,” Autumn protested. “They just care about our safety too.”

“Autumn’s right,” Hawk said, recalling a conversation he’d had once with Solomon about the captive-hawk poem. “They respect us. But Solomon told me once that no one ever gets
permission
to grow up. If someone
gives
you your freedom, it’s still theirs, not yours—like some kind of loan. See what I mean? To grow up, we have to take our freedom
without
permission. It’s the only way it can be done.”

“Wow!” said Nacho. “That’s some pretty heavy dunkin’, dude.”

“So, what?” said Sophie. “You’re saying we should all just defy our parents now, in the middle of a demon invasion?”

“I’m not trying to tell any of you what to do,” Hawk said, a little scared himself of what he was proposing. “Like I said, that’s got to be your choice, but I’ll be graduating in the spring, and even now my mom cares way too much about my safety to ever give me
permission
to get in harm’s way. She’ll never really believe I can handle it until she finds out I already have.” Hawk felt rather proud of all this sudden insight. “She may not know it consciously, but I think she’s secretly waiting for the day I finally
steal
my freedom.”

“Oh man!”
Cob crowed. “Hawk, you are the
uber-bard
!”

Knowing she was overruled, Sophie threw up her hands as almost everyone there jumped on Hawk’s bandwagon. Within minutes they had sorted themselves into four groups, one for each of the first four people they meant to drive out of town. Then all the groups fell into animated discussion about how to achieve their various missions.

Not five minutes later, Sky gave a deafening whistle that silenced everyone, and said, “This cave is too small and too noisy. I can’t hear myself think in here. We should break up, and each team go find someplace to plan where they can hear each other talk.”

“Foster group to my house!” Nacho grinned.

“Ferristaff team can go to my place,” Hawk said. “My mom’s gone all week.”

There was an awkward hesitation while everyone, especially Hawk, avoided acknowledging the reason for her absence. Then Sky, already heading for the cave mouth, said, “Hamilton group to the sacred circle.”

“Team Greensong can stay here then,” Autumn said, smiling.

With that, Hawk led his team, which happened to be the largest, out of the cave, filled with pride. Rose had been right after all. His barding skills did have their uses.

As two birds, a raven and a blue jay, flew away from the circle of trees that four boys had entered half an hour earlier, Cassey lowered her binoculars in exaltation. She’d just
known
that continuing to spy on that ring of cypress would pay off eventually! Her binoculars had given her a very good look at the children as they’d entered this time, and to her delight, she’d recognized one of them. A boy named Jupiter. She’d met him at the market, where he worked, and been quite taken by his name. So astrological!

She turned around and half-sprinted back to town, knowing Molly would want to hear about this right away. Cassey felt certain she would call a special meeting tonight, now that they actually had a fairy’s name!

He was out inspecting a work site in the woods. Fallen trees lay tumbled on the ground for as far as he could see into the darkness, an impressive harvest, but he wasn’t pleased. Why had none of these been hauled away yet? Was he the only one who knew what work meant anymore? Where were all his men? As if in answer, he heard laughter from the edges of the clear-cut. Gleeful children’s laughter. Suddenly, the uncut woods surrounding the site seemed too dark . . . too wild. He turned to run back toward his truck, but his legs would hardly move. He pushed them forward as if through sand while the laughter grew louder behind him. He strained to make his legs obey him, and—

Ferristaff gasped awake.

The dream dissolved, but quiet laughter hung on the air just long enough to leave him certain there was someone in the house. He sat up and peered into the darkness.

“Who’s there?” he called gruffly, but only silence answered him. Perhaps the dream had lingered longer than he thought. He glanced at the luminous clock face beside his bed: 3:30
A.M.
Outside, tree trunks groaned, wind rushed sighing through the foliage, branches tapped and scrapped against a wall downstairs. Sounded like a storm was brewing. Ferristaff lay back and stared up at the ceiling. It had only been a dream.