The Child Thief (40 page)

Nick glanced at the sword in his hand—
his
sword, at the blood smeared across its blade and dripping onto the stones.
Splat, splat, splat
, like a telltale heart.

“Nick?” Cricket called weakly.

Nick didn’t feel his fingernails cut into his palm as he clenched his hand into a fist. Didn’t hear the inhuman growl that escaped his own throat or even realize his lips were peeled back into a snarl. He set his eyes on Leroy, took a step forward, then another, his head hung low, like that of a mad dog. “Murderer,” he said, low and harsh. “
Murderer!
”—the ragged words tearing loose from deep in his throat. “
MURDERER!
” he screamed, his face full of rage.

“GET BACK!”
the troll cried, pushing Cricket and Danny away. “He’s turned! The darkness has him!”

Leroy scrambled behind the troll and ran for the door. Nick leaped after him, so intent on catching him he didn’t see the troll bring the ax around until the last second. Nick ducked, sliding beneath the blow. The ax hit the mantel, smashing the edge to bits.

“DON’T LET HIM OPEN THE DOOR!”
Nick screamed, his face a knot of frustration. Couldn’t they see that Leroy was heading toward the door, that he was going to let whatever was out there in?

The troll swung again, knocking the sword from Nick’s hand and driving Nick into the wall.

Leroy was at the door, sliding the slat free.

Nick faked left and jumped right, causing the troll to stumble into one of the benches. Nick darted past in time to see Leroy shove the door open and flee into the night.

Nick stopped, sure some indescribable horror was about to appear in the doorway. But the only horror coming for him was the troll with the ax. Nick caught sight of Cricket and Danny, caught their condemning looks.

“
NO!
” Nick shouted, shaking his head. “
IT WASN’T ME!
”

The troll didn’t even pause, just came on at a full charge.

“
IT WASN’T ME!
” Nick shouted again, then ran, the troll’s heavy footsteps chasing him out the door and into the swirling night fog.

WHEN NICK FINALLY
dared to stop, he wished he hadn’t. While running, he’d been too occupied avoiding the roots and thorns, ledges and pits, to worry about anything else. But now, as he leaned heavily against the trunk of a fallen tree, as the sound of his own breathing slowed down, he began to hear the night, to hear the things
in
the night.

The woods themselves creaked and moaned and Nick thought of the way the trees in Whisperwood had talked to each other and wondered if the trees around him now were speaking. If they were telling the things with claws, and fangs, and stingers, that he was here, wondered if they were telling that other thing, that dark thing, that he was alone.

Nick strained to see within the deeper shadows. He could feel that other out there, still probing for him in the night. Nick reached for his sword and realized he’d left it behind. But he did have his knife. He pulled it out. It felt small and insubstantial in his hand.

I can’t stay out here,
he thought.
I have to go back. I can clear this up. Right? No,
a deeper voice warned.
No, you can’t.
He knew what he’d seen on the troll’s face, in Cricket’s and Danny’s eyes. The troll had said he’d turned.
Turned into what?
A Flesh-eater, he guessed. He’d seen the way they’d been watching him. It wasn’t hard to put together. Now they believed he’d murdered Sekeu.
Peter will kill me on sight.

He started forward then stopped.
Where am I going?
“Home,” he whispered.
I’ve got to get home, back to my mom. One way or another.
He shook his head.
I can’t even find my way out of these goddamn woods. How am I supposed to make it all the way home? I’m screwed,
he thought.
Completely screwed.

He heard something in the distance, back the way he’d come; sounded like footsteps.
Were they after him already? Peter and the Devils?
He wasn’t going to wait around to find out. He pushed down the slope and realized he’d no idea which direction he was heading, that he could be heading back to Deviltree, for all he knew. Then
it
was there, just ahead, in a small clearing illuminated by the luminescent ground fog. A tall figure draped in a long, woolly cape. It wore a helmet with wide, curving antlers. It held someone—
Leroy
. It appeared to be talking to the boy.

The horned creature turned its head toward Nick. Its eyes glowed from deep within the visor. The eyes, those burning eyes, fixed on Nick, and when they did, a fear so crippling gripped him that he fell to his knees.

“Run little rabbit. Run.”

Nick found he could move again. Scrambling on his hands and knees, he clawed his way up the slope, stumbled to his feet, and ran.

PETER LED THE
Devils homeward to Deviltree. As he jogged through the night, he tried to keep his mind focused on tomorrow, away from thoughts of Abraham. The witch had helped them find him. The boy’s decapitated body hung from a tree out in the burning field, naked, mutilated. The witch had almost been kindly to Peter in his grief. It was her land, her swamp that the Flesh-eaters had so boldly trespassed. She was ready to fight, anxious for blood. So it was all set.
Tomorrow
, Peter thought.
Tomorrow we end it
.

They crested the trail and Peter saw Deviltree below. He stopped. The door to the fort stood open, Tanngnost’s tall figure silhouetted in its frame, an ax in his hand.

What now?
Peter wondered and sprinted down. As he neared, he caught sight of the troll’s anguished features and slowed to a walk.

Tanngnost tried to speak, but seemed capable of only shaking his head, yet his eyes told Peter all he needed to know. Peter tried to shove past. The old troll grabbed him. “Peter,” Tanngnost called. “Peter, wait. You should—”

Peter tore loose and pushed into the chamber, saw the blankets, the blood on the floor, on the walls. He saw Sekeu’s copper-colored hand curling out from beneath the blankets and fell to his knees. He reached for her hand, hesitated, afraid to touch her, then slowly clasped her hand in his. It was cold.

“Sekeu,” Peter whispered and started to pull the blanket back from her face. Cricket put her hand on the blanket. “No,” she said sternly.

“Peter,” Tanngnost said, his voice tender. “It was the darkness. It took Nick. I’m sorry. It just happened…so fast.”

“The darkness?” Peter asked, almost choking on the words. “No, that’s not possible!”

The troll looked pained. “I know this is hard. But…I was there. I saw it with my own eyes. We all did. Nick’s out of his mind, Peter. He attacked Leroy. I’ve never seen such rage.”

“But how?” Peter asked, his voice cracking. “How? You were there. The Lady…she healed him. She drove it from him. You saw it. Tell me you saw it!”

“The Lady…well, she’s so weak. Maybe it didn’t hold. Maybe—” Tanngnost looked baffled. “Peter, I don’t know. I wish I had an answer.”

“No,” Peter said, shaking his head. “No, it’s not the darkness. I won’t believe it.”

Leroy came stumbling through the entrance, his back to them, staring at something out in the woods. His back bumped into the door and he quickly shoved it closed, fumbling to slide the heavy slat into place.

“Where is he?” Tanngnost asked.

Leroy jumped; the slat slid from his hands, landing on the stones with a solid thud. He spun around and glanced wildly about the room. His eyes fell on Sekeu, went to Peter, and became wide, afraid. He backed into the door. “Nick killed her!” he said.

“Yes,” the troll said. “Where did he go?”

“He’s in the woods,” Leroy said quickly. “I tried to stop him…but he has a sword…
his
sword and I don’t…didn’t.” Leroy’s eyes kept shifting back to Sekeu. “If I had a weapon I would’ve stopped him. I tried to stop him.”

“Where in the woods?” Tanngnost pressed. “Which direction was he going?”

“Toward Goggie Creek.”

“Peter,” Tanngnost said. “We have to catch him
now
. Right now.”

Peter didn’t answer.

“Peter, don’t you understand? We can’t let him fall into the hands of the Flesh-eaters. He knows where Deviltree is. Knows our numbers, our plans. They’ll get him to talk. Everything’s at stake. Peter, he knows where the Haven lies!”

Peter’s eyes fixed on Sekeu’s long black hair spilling out from beneath the blanket. He touched it, ran his fingers through it.
Sekeu, how?

Redbone brought Peter a spear. The Devils were lined up behind him. They looked anxious. “We’re ready,” Redbone said. “Peter?”

“Just go,” Tanngnost said to the group and herded them toward the door. “Hurry, before it’s too late. Take everyone. You’ll need every pair of eyes. Danny, Cricket, you too.” He snatched spears off the wall and pushed them into their hands. “Take no chances. Remember, this isn’t Nick. This isn’t your friend. Nick’s gone from us—what’s left is a monster.” He raised his voice. “Kill him on sight. Whatever you do, don’t let him fall into the hands of the Flesh-eaters.”

Peter heard all this as though from somewhere far away.

The troll sat down next to Peter.

Peter continued to stroke Sekeu’s hair as his thoughts stumbled over one another.
How could I have let this happen?
He pressed his hand to his temple. Because I’d been so sure.
Because I saw the Lady heal him, that’s how. There’s something else going on here. It has to be something else.

He looked at Maldiriel, at the blood, Sekeu’s blood, still wet on the fine elven blade. Peter’s brow tightened.
Hadn’t Leroy said Nick had a sword in the woods? Yes, he’d made a point of saying it
.

“Tanngnost.”

“Yes.”

“You saw Nick kill Sekeu?”

“Yes, well, no. I didn’t actually
see
him do it. But I—”

“Did any of the kids? Did any of them see it?”

“Yes. Leroy did.”

“Where’s Leroy?”

“He went with the others.”

Peter thought of the odd way Leroy had acted. Nothing he could put his finger on, but definitely not right. “I need to talk to Nick,” Peter said and before the troll could protest, Peter snatched up the spear and ran out the door.

THEY COME
, ULFGER
thought. Twenty-three, maybe twenty-four little boys and girls, all spread out, hunting the rabbit. He opened his eyes. He could see the faintest glow pushing through the tree tops as dawn’s first light touched the low clouds.

He closed his eyes again, because he could see so much more with them shut. It seemed the longer he wore the helmet the further he could see, as though his mind and the helmet were melding, fusing, becoming one.

Just ahead, the rabbit had stopped again. Ulfger could sense the boy’s disorientation, his fear. Beyond the rabbit,
they
waited at the forest’s edge, the
Flesh-eaters
. So many Ulfger couldn’t count them all, but he could sense their hate, their need for murder.

He’d followed the rabbit all night, kept it on course. When the rabbit slowed down, or strayed, he merely made his presence known and the little rabbit got moving again.

Avallach had been kind, too kind, had made it all too easy. The rabbit would lead the child thief and his brats right to the Flesh-eaters, right into their trap.
And then—oh, and then
. Ulfger laughed, couldn’t help himself; he felt like he would never stop laughing.

A TWIG SNAPPED
, and Nick’s eyes flew open. Faint light pushed through the tangled limbs above him. How long had he been asleep? He glanced anxiously about.
Was it here?
How could he have allowed himself to fall asleep with that horrible creature hunting him? Every time he’d thought he’d lost it, every time he’d stopped to catch his breath, it had appeared, its red eyes glowering at him, clawing their way into his head.

Nick tried to get his bearings, but the fog was thick. He could barely see twenty paces in any direction—another snap, somewhere behind him. Nick slid his hand around the hilt of his knife, wishing he’d held on tighter to his sword. He stood and crept off, but the ground was soggy and the sticky mud pulled beneath his feet. Suddenly footsteps came rapidly toward him. He saw Dirk staring at him across a thicket of thorns, the boy’s eyes as wide and frightened as his own.

Nick raised his hands. “Dirk, I didn’t do it! You got to believe—”

Dirk leaped forward and threw his spear. Nick managed to duck the missile; the blade whisked past his head and stuck into a tree.

“
HERE! HE’S HERE!
” Dirk shouted, yanking out his sword and charging through the thorns for Nick.

Nick ran, dashed into the bushes, found a small trail, and sprinted down it as fast as he could go. Shouts came from all around him and he spied several figures in the fog, running parallel to him through the trees.

Nick broke into a large clearing of gray, knee-high grass, and another group of Devils shot out into the clearing ahead of him. Nick cut away and darted toward a thin line of trees. He could see the burning fields through their branches and it occurred to him if he could make it out there, then maybe,
maybe
, the Devils wouldn’t follow.

A spear whisked past him, so close he actually felt its wake. The Devils howled like beasts, and Nick knew how a deer must feel when chased by wolves. A shrill cry escaped his own throat—eyes wide, heart pounding, as his legs whipped through the tall grass.