The Dark Passenger (Book 1) (12 page)

The next several days were much the same with a village
elder following him constantly. The attention made him nervous, and he tried
his best to do everything just right. The day before the fair he was again
standing at a cauldron in Master Carrion’s attic, trying not to breathe in the
vapors coming off the green liquid. Behind him he heard Master Carrion and
Mistress Schuylar shuffling towards him.

“Edwin—” Mistress Schuylar began.

“One second, please, Mistress Schuylar,” Edwin replied.
Every joint in his body was still, and he was trying to keep up with Sam’s
fast-paced potion making.

Edwin reached into a vial of toad’s feet and pulled out one
long brown leg. When the foot hit the liquid, it sank to the bottom, and the
concoction went from a noxious green to a gentle pink.

Master Carrion sounded impressed. “Perfect. That looks just
right.”

Edwin was relieved. “Thanks,” he said.

“And what do we use Bailey’s Mucus for?”

“Warts, Master Carrion,” Edwin replied, wiping off his
hands. He forced himself to make eye contact with Master Carrion and Mistress
Schuylar, and asked, “What do you want to talk to me about?”

“Outside, please,” Carrion said.

Edwin nodded and followed them, shrugging at Sam as he
passed.

Leaning on his cane, Master Carrion said, “Edwin, Mistress
Schuylar is concerned about your potion making skills.”

“What about them?” Edwin asked, worried he’d done something
wrong.

Master Carrion and Mistress Schuylar exchanged a troubled
look, and Mistress Schuylar said, “We’ve seen you train with the Fury. The Medgards
told me you’d never picked up a sword before. And now here you are in Carrion’s
shop…. I’ve been around a cauldron or two in my time, and you’re concocting
potions as well as Sam, who has been here for years—maybe even as well as
Master Carrion here. Can you explain any of it, Edwin?”

Edwin felt relieved as he searched for an answer. “I-I like
to read,” he stammered.

“Read?” Master Carrion asked.

“Yes, Lady Nemain gave me a book on alchemy.”

“I remember that. She got the books from me,” Mistress
Schuylar said.

“That woman gave…” Master Carrion’s voice trailed off, and
then he said, “I see. It would figure that she would try to be helpful. And
you’ve spent the last few weeks reading it?”

“No, I read it in only a night… a few w-weeks ago… is there something
wrong, Master Carrion? Mistress Schuylar?”

Master Carrion’s face reddened two shades darker than his
beard, and Mistress Schuylar tightly gripped her umbrella handle. “And you
remembered everything you read?” Mistress Schuylar asked.

“Yes… Most people don’t?”

“No, Edwin, no they don’t,” Mistress Schuylar said.

“I don’t understand. I thought you wanted me to do well,”
Edwin said.

Master Carrion sighed in a way that Edwin found confusing. He
didn’t understand why Carrion looked so disappointed. “Of course we want you to
do well. Don’t worry about a thing,” Master Carrion said, and he opened the
door. “Back inside.”

While Edwin bottled his Bailey’s Mucus, Sam asked, “You’re
drawing Master Carrion and Mistress Schuylar’s attention now? What did you do?”

“Nothing. They just wanted to talk about my potion making,”
Edwin said.

“What about it?”

“They think I’m a natural.” Edwin couldn’t help but feel a
little proud of that.

The next morning, Edwin was told that he wasn’t picked to go
to the fair that night. “But it has to be tonight,” he told the spirit,
although he was hesitant to sneak out again.

“Yess,” the spirit agreed. “You weaken with every day that
passes.”

Most apprenticeships were cancelled for the fair, so
Headmistress Vanora put them to work cleaning Hawthorne. When darkness came,
the children chosen to go to the fair went upstairs to get ready, and Edwin
found a corner by the stairwell where he could whisper with his spirit. When
Edwin heard footsteps approaching, he shut his mouth and Headmistress Vanora
appeared.

“What are you doing, Edwin?” she demanded, her hands on her
ample hips.

“Noth—”

“You should be upstairs with Ashton. He’s in charge while
I’m gone.”

Edwin nodded and rushed upstairs. The last thing he needed
was to get into trouble on the night of the fair.

As soon as Edwin walked in his room, Walt complained, “I
can’t believe Sam gets to go tonight and I don’t. Too bad my aunts couldn’t get
us before the fair.” He was on his back hanging over the edge of his bed, and his
shaggy blond hair was dangling just above the floor.

Edwin threw himself on his own bed. “Where’s Ashton?”

“He said he was going to make sure everyone was getting
ready, but I’m sure he only meant Martha. They’re probably telling each other
how much they’re going to miss each other and how hard it’ll be to spend five
whole minutes apart.”

“They’re a good pair,” Edwin said absently.

Walt snorted. “She’s training him to be her next puppy, only
Ashton doesn’t see it. She’s worse than he is.”

“Why do you care? I thought you hated Ashton.”

“I do, but they’ll both be on the Council in a few years.”
Edwin gave him a skeptical look, and Walt continued, “You know they will. Mark
my words, the villagers love their rules and Martha and Ashton love enforcing
them. When they’re in charge the bodies will pile up and the blood will flow under
the hallow tree.”

That was a troubling thought. “Maybe you’re probably right,”
Edwin conceded, and he got up from his bed.

“What are you doing?” Walt asked, sitting up.

Edwin walked over to the wardrobe and opened the drawer he
hadn’t touched since his first day. “I’m getting the outfit I wore when I came
down here from the inn.”

“What do you need that for?”

“I can’t just sit here. Headmistress Vanora will never let
me go to the fair, and I want to see it this year. Don’t tell Ashton I’m gone,
all right?”

Walt laughed. “Tell Ashton? I thought you knew me better
than that. Besides, I’m coming with you.”

Edwin looked up from his packing. “No, I can’t ask you to do
that. I don’t want to get you into trouble,” he said stupidly. He should have
anticipated Walt wanting to come, but he had been so focused on the fair and
his hand that the thought had never crossed his mind.

Walt snorted. “Who asked? I think it’ll be fun… definitely
better than sitting around here. And besides, my aunts are coming to get me
soon anyway. Why not break a few more rules before I go?”

Edwin knew he needed to be alone; the fair was his best
chance to find life, and he couldn’t do that with Walt watching his every move.
Seeing Edwin’s hesitation, Walt added, “I can also buy our admissions tickets.
My parents’ house is still empty, and I know where they kept some money.”

Edwin had figured he and his spirit would have to improvise
to get into the fair, but buying tickets seemed much simpler. “Fine, you can
come,” he said, smiling. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you if we get caught.”
Suddenly his arm was on fire. “Ouch!”

“What’s wrong?”

“My arm… Erm, cramp,” Edwin said, surreptitiously trying to
shake his spirit off his arm.

The noise was picking up in the hall. Walt changed into
clothes he must have owned before coming to Hawthorne, but then put his uniform
back on over it. He went out to check the hall, giving Edwin the chance to
whisper to the spirit: “Stop, that hurts. Don’t worry, I’ll lose him at the
fair.” The creature stopped picking at his skin, but he knew it wasn’t happy.

Ashton didn’t come back after Headmistress Vanora left with
the others, and sneaking out was easy with her gone. As Edwin and Walt left their
room, they heard Ashton ordering at the boys across the hall to stay in their
own room. “Like they’ll listen to Ash with Vanora gone,” Walt scoffed.
Downstairs, the front door was still covered with a board and had no lock, and
it slid open easily.

The evening couldn’t have been more perfect for the fair.
The sky was clear, the air crisp, and the stars were just bright enough to
light their way. The fair grew louder with every step; there was laughing, the
sound of metal scraping metal, music, screaming, yelling—recognizable
sounds that blended to become a noise with a life all its own—a noise
that bounced down the narrow roads and between the houses like it too was
having fun. But even with all the noise in the distance, the roads were mostly
empty on the way to Walt’s. After turning onto a road that led to one of the
arches to the village square, Walt said, “Wait here.”

Edwin nodded while Walt walked up a staircase that led up to
one of the better homes in Chardwick. While he waited, he saw a man and woman
pass him walking arm-in-arm. They walked up to a tattooed man, and he moved
aside to let them pass. Edwin moved to hide behind the staircase, and his
spirit pricked at his face and grumbled, “What are you doing?” Edwin had begun
changing into his clothes from the inn, but he knew his spirit was referring to
Walt.

“You heard Walt. What was I supposed to do? Forbid him from
coming with me? Besides, he’s getting us into the fair.” After untying his
blanket and pulling out his old clothes, he took off his uniform, and the
frigid air bit at his skin. “Maybe I should have worn my clothes under my
uniform like Walt.”

“You mussn’t concern yourself with that boy’s feelingss. You
musst heal,” the spirit said.

“I kn-know,” Edwin spat, putting on his clothes as quickly
as he could. They felt cold against his skin.

“Be careful and get rid of him.”

As he buried his uniform in the snow, he said, “I will. What
should I be looking for at the fair?”

“Something bigger than a cat,” his spirit said facetiously.

With his only good hand shaking from cold, Edwin had a hard
time wrapping his blanket around his shoulders. Absently, he said, “I’m worried
we won’t find anything.”

“Yess… you’re right…” the spirit said. “We will need another
plan if you don’t find anything at the fair.”

“Let’s just be optimistic for now.”

“No… That won’t do…. We might only have the one chance
tonight. You don’t need me right now. I’ll go look around and will be back
ssoon. Don’t get into trouble.”

“Wait, you can’t leave,” Edwin cried, but it was too late;
the spirit was gone. Feeling the spirit’s sudden absence, Edwin cursed himself
for letting his mouth run. He hadn’t meant to give the spirit a reason to
disappear. When Walt reappeared a minute later, Edwin forced himself to smile,
but he felt sick.

“Yo-you also ch-changed,” Edwin said.

“Your stutter’s back,” Walt said, and Edwin frowned. Walt
continued, “I left my uniform inside. Where’s yours? Want to put it inside?”
When Edwin shook his head, Walt pulled a gold coin out of his pocket and
flicked one in Edwin’s direction. “Here, catch.”

“Oh, Walt, this is too much,” Edwin said. He had never held
so much money before.

Walt waved away Edwin’s outstretched hand. “My parents kept
these stashed away. I’d say our luck has been pretty bad lately, and you’re
probably going to be thrown in the cellar a few weeks for sneaking out. So I
say let’s have some fun.”

Edwin gulped and nodded, and Walt pulled him towards the tattooed
guard. Walt’s excitement was infections, and Edwin couldn’t wait to get inside.
When Edwin handed the man the gold coin, the man gave him back a few silver coins
and a handful of copper knots.

“Remember to buy your ticket early next year. Save yourself
some knots,” the tattooed man said, stepping aside to let him pass. Walt was
right behind him.

The first thing Edwin noticed was the smell of smoke and
meat, which was so strong that it hit him like a brick wall, and his eyes
watered and he coughed. People were everywhere, yelling, pushing, laughing… The
tents, the merchants and their costumes—it was so much it made him dizzy.
It made no difference whether Edwin moved or stood still, he was bumped left
and right, and nobody seemed to notice. They were all looking above his head to
the merchants, all of whom were trying to yell above the crowd, advertising
their wares.

To his left, Edwin saw a woman selling jars of what looked
like toes; he even saw what he thought were toenails. To his right was a man arranging
jars of bugs. The bugs were every shape and size, from round and flat, to long
and narrow with huge wings. And the colors—he had never seen anything so
bright, and he wondered where they came from and why people would buy them.

“Will you look at that,” he said, turning and looking for
Walt. “Walt?” He spun around but Walt was gone. At first he felt panic at being
alone with all these people and their strange tents, but then he realized Walt disappearing
was exactly what he’d wanted.

A woman screeching like the hens she was beheading caught
Edwin’s attention: “Chicken! Come get yer chicken on a stick! Four knots for
one, seven for two. Best deal ’round. Get legs, heads, and beaks too. Fresh chicken…”
She brought down her cleaver on the hen’s neck and started again. “Come get
your chicken on a stick!” Practiced, her words didn’t distract her from her
work, and she plucked it of its feathers while other bodies sat on skewers
stirring over an open fire.

“I’ll take o-one,” Edwin said. He raised and waved his hand
above the table, but it wasn’t until he pulled out a few coins from his pocket
that he got the woman’s attention. Holding her cleaver suspended in the air,
she looked down at him.

“You got enough coin there, boy?” Edwin nodded, and the
woman said, “Go ’head, then, pick which one ya want.”

She pointed at the golden brown figures above the fire, and
Edwin said, “I don’t want a cooked one. Do you have one that’s still alive?”

“I don’ sell livestock. All I got is already dead.”

Edwin regarded her blood-soaked hands. “So that was the last
one?”

“That’s what I just said, innit?”

Edwin backed away and tried to reassure himself. That was
just the first stand he had seen. There were loads more. Not paying enough
attention, he bumped into a man with the dull eyes of someone who had spent too
much time in the mines.

“Watch where you’re going, kid,” the man growled.

As Edwin mumbled an apology, he noticed that most of the
villagers shared the same dull expressions, and he guessed that one night at
the fair wasn’t enough to erase a season’s worth of work.

 “Boy, over here. Boy! Yes, you. Come here.”

Edwin turned and saw a woman through the crowd beckoning him
towards her. He had caught only a glimpse, but it was enough to make his heart
beat faster. She looked nothing like any woman he had ever seen in Chardwick.
Her skin was as clear as fresh snow, and she had soft chestnut
eyes—indeed, mischievous eyes that at once smiled and welcomed him.
Behind her, inside her tent, burned an inferno that warmed his cheeks. “Come,
warm yourself by my fire,” she said, and Edwin moved in closer.

Standing awkwardly, Edwin put his hands out in front of him
and enjoyed the fire’s heat on his gloves.

“That’s nice, isn’t it? Now tell me, what’s a handsome young
man like yourself doing wandering the tents alone?”

Edwin found himself stuttering worse than normal. “J-ju-just
lo-looking.”

The woman laughed merrily, and Edwin’s cheeks burned even
hotter. “Adorable,” the woman sang.

Unable to meet her eyes, Edwin for the first time noticed
her tent. “Wha-what are you selling?” He rubbed his gloved finger over a red
ribbon tied around a jar filled with clear liquid. At least it seemed to be
full of a clear liquid; as he jolted the jar it picked up the light of the
fire, making it look like the liquid itself was burning.

“Charms,” the woman said, as though charms were the most
common things in the world. The tail of an inauspicious gray ribbon peeked out
from behind a small wood box. The color seemed to fade in and out like the gray
of his spirit. He reached out, but the woman was closer. Plucking it from the
table, she twirled it around her fingers. The end of the ribbon was attached to
a bottle, and she lifted it with her other hand. “You have a good eye.” Her
smile made his legs weak.

“How m-much does it cost?” he asked, pulling out his coins.

“Your money is no good here.” Delicately, she laid the jar
flat on the table. “No, something like this might cost you a virgin’s heart…”

As she stroked the ribbon’s end, he stood motionless, too
transfixed to even breathe.

“…or maybe the twinkle in your eyes…”

He felt his cheeks burning, but he couldn’t look away.

“…or perhaps a boy’s first kiss.”

His legs frozen, he could only stammer.

With her chestnut eyes looking down at him expectantly, she
asked, “We have reached an agreement?” But it was more of a statement, and Edwin
nodded dumbly.

The woman leaned forward and tapped at her lips playfully. Edwin
could barely move, but her body burned like incense as he got closer, hot and
sweet. Almost at her mouth, his nose nearly touching her skin, she leaned
forward suddenly, her mouth open slightly, and their lips met. The kiss lasted
only a moment.