The Eighth Day (8 page)

“
Of course
there is. What did you
think
Grunsday was?” Riley threw out his arms. “It was magic that made Grunsday and trapped an entire race of people inside it. And it was magic you were using on Crandall when I came in, forcing him to answer your questions.”

“You should've told him before now,” A.J. said.

“I was telling him a little at a time, so he didn't freak out.”

“Good job.” A.J. hooked a thumb toward Jax, who was still wriggling in his chair.

“Oops,” Riley said. “You can get up, Jax.”

Jax shot out of his chair and across the room, as far
from Riley as he could get. He wanted to bolt out the front door and keep running. His heart was pounding and his muscles were coiled, but he fought the urge for flight. If he ran, he'd never get any answers. “Can you make me do anything you want?” he croaked. And in the back of his mind, he wondered,
Can I do the same to you?

“It has limits, and most of my commands are temporary or wear off in time, so—” Riley broke off his explanation, seeming to realize how scared Jax was. “Jax, I swore an oath to your father I'd protect you. So, please. Sit down and let me explain.”

Jax flinched, but didn't feel compelled to sit.

“You're an inquisitor,” Riley said, “and a pretty strong one, developing this much on your own.”

“A quality tattoo makes a difference,” A.J. pointed out.

“True,” Riley said. “Crandall's an artisan. His talent for designing marks probably enhanced your natural skill. Your talent is the same as your father's: forcing other people to give you information. Although, as you can see”—He waved his hand to indicate the distance between the two of them—“when someone
realizes
you've compelled them against their will, there's usually a side effect of making them pretty hostile.”

“Oh, crap!” Jax suddenly understood why Giana had answered all his questions and then yelled at him afterward. He slumped into a chair and buried his face in his hands. “Oh, no!”

“Nice going, Pendare. You made him cry.” A.J. took his phone out of his pocket. “I'm calling my mom.”

Mrs. Crandall smacked Riley upside his head with an oven mitt. “Why didn't you bring him to me in the first place?”

“I thought I had it under control.”

Jax glanced around the Crandall home curiously. He'd always pictured A.J. living in a dump one step down from Riley's house, but this was a nice place, clean and decorated with stuff that matched. A.J.'s parents weren't exactly what he'd expected either. His mom was tall and sturdy, with very short hair and arms that might've been more muscular than Riley's. She was wearing an apron, though. That and the oven mitt got Jax's hopes up.

A.J.'s father stuck out his hand and introduced himself gruffly. “Arnold Crandall. Nice to finally meet you, son.” Jax extended his own hand cautiously, not sure if he'd be getting it back. Mr. Crandall was bigger and heavier than A.J., but in his case it was all muscle and no fat. With his buzz cut and gravel voice and a handshake that cut off Jax's circulation, he reminded Jax of a drill sergeant. He and his wife
both
looked like drill sergeants.

“I didn't expect him to start interrogating people on his own,” Riley was saying. “Melinda's going to meet with him on Grunsday. I thought that was soon enough. Plus,
like I told you before, I'm not sure how much to tell him.”

“Everything,” Jax piped up. “I want to know everything.”

“
Everything
covers a lot of territory,” Mr. Crandall said. “If you're not sworn on as Riley's vassal, then some things aren't your business to know.”

“What do you mean,
vassal
?” Jax stared at the man blankly.

The Crandalls looked at each other, then at Riley. Mrs. Crandall raised her oven mitt again, but Riley sidestepped out of range. “
You
try to explain it!” Riley said.

Mrs. Crandall moved her hands to her hips. “Sit down, Jax. I know this has been a shock, but if it's any comfort, there's dinner afterwards. You could probably use a good meal.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Jax said eagerly. “I could.”

Riley flung himself into an armchair, looking chastised.

The Crandalls seated themselves across from Jax, while A.J. leaned against the back of Riley's chair. “All right, Jaxon,” said Mr. Crandall. “You studied feudalism in school, didn't you?”

Studied, yes. Learned? Not so much. But Jax nodded.

“Well, Riley is my liege lord, like his father was before him. I'm his sworn vassal, and so are my wife and son.”

“You're kidding,” Jax said flatly.

“Not in the slightest.”

The liege lord slumped in his chair, picking dirt from beneath his fingernails. “It's just a chain of command.”

Chain of command? With
Riley
in charge? Jax scowled. “My father wasn't, was he?”

“Your father was independent,” Mr. Crandall said. “No clan, no vassals, no liege lord. Which is why, when he needed help, he came to Riley. And it's why, for your own protection, you really ought to—”

“No.” Riley sat up. “His father didn't want him sworn to me. I don't want it. I'm sure Jax doesn't want it. He goes back to his cousins as soon as he's trained.”

Mr. Crandall looked like he was sucking on lemons. “Listen to Riley,” his wife said softly, and Mr. Crandall grunted and nodded.

Holy cow. He really is the boss of them!

“What about Niviane and Merlin?” Jax asked. “What does an everlasting forest have to do with the eighth day?”

Mr. Crandall ticked off on his fingers. “The real Niviane was a Britannic queen. The real Merlin was a spell caster from a race of sorcerers called the Kin. And what the stories call an everlasting forest is Grunsday—a place cut off from the rest of time. Niviane conceived of the idea; Merlin cast the spell, and—” He glanced at his wife and seemed to edit his words. “And more than a dozen Welsh clan lords contributed their talents and magic to make it happen. We Transitioners are descended from the rulers and clan leaders who helped cast the spell.”

“Welsh clan leaders with magic powers?” Jax scratched his head. It still sounded ridiculous.

“There are people with a talent for magic all over the world,” Mrs. Crandall said. “On every continent. Mystics and shamans and fakirs. We aren't the only ones.”

“But who are the Kin?” Jax looked at Riley. “Are they the people who live only on Grunsday—like the girl?”

“The Kin are a race of people far more powerful in magic than most,” Mr. Crandall explained. “They arrived in the British Isles maybe three thousand years ago. Legends say they came down from the north, but I don't know if anybody really knows for sure.”

Jax tried to picture a world map in his head and remember what was above the British Isles. He wasn't any better at geography than history, but he didn't think there was much.

“They coexisted with the native Britannic people for a long time. Kin families allied themselves with Welsh clans and adopted our customs, like taking vassals. But around two thousand years ago, some of the most powerful Kin clans started making war on Normals with their magic. They razed the countryside, enslaved the people, and might have eventually ruled the earth if Niviane hadn't conceived of the Eighth Day Spell to contain them and give the Welsh clans the advantage of seven days to every one of theirs.”

“Merlin was an Emrys, which was one of the more
prominent Kin families,” Riley added. “But he and a few other Kin clans honored their alliance with our people, fought alongside us, and collaborated on the spell, even though they ended up trapped in the eighth day with the rest of their race. Merlin Emrys sacrificed himself for us. Not
all
the Kin are bad people.”

Mrs. Crandall said to Jax, “Melinda can explain more when you meet her.”

“Who's Melinda?”

“One of Riley's vassals. You'll like her.”

Jax glanced around the room. “Are there any more of you? Vassals to Riley, I mean.”

“Just Miller.” A.J. cleared his throat.

“You won't be meeting Miller,” Riley said. “He's out of town. On business.”

From the sudden silence in the room and the stony look on Mr. Crandall's face, Jax guessed that Miller's business was not Jax's business to know.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

JAX TRIED NOT TO
pounce on Mrs. Crandall's dinner like a starving hyena, but A.J. and Riley didn't hold back. Jax figured he'd better grab what he could before it was all gone, and dove for a chicken leg.

“Eat up, Jax. You look undernourished.” Mrs. Crandall glared at Riley.

“He eats everything in sight,” Riley protested, his own mouth full. “I can't keep groceries in the house!”

Jax looked up, startled. He thought the exact same thing about Riley.

“Nobody can eat like a teenage boy.” Mrs. Crandall slung a ladle full of mashed potatoes on Jax's plate. “The pair of you together are probably like piranha.”

After dinner, Mr. Crandall looked at Riley and jerked his head toward the door. Riley nodded and the two of them left the room. A.J. made a move to follow, but his mother ordered him and Jax to clear the dishes. “I cook.
You clean up,” she said. “That's how it works. And scrape the plates before putting them in the dishwasher, Arnold Joseph.”

“I do,” A.J. protested.

His mother smacked him with a wooden spoon. “Will you ever learn not to lie?”

A.J. looked contrite until Mrs. Crandall left the room; then he waggled his eyebrows at Jax. “It sucks—having a mom with a talent for truth. But she can only detect literal lies. If you lie by omission, she can't tell. Once in awhile you have to throw her a bone, though, or she gets suspicious.”

“How many kinds of talent are there?” Jax asked.

A.J. disposed of some leftovers by stuffing them into his mouth. “Probably as many as there are families,” he mumbled around the food. “Melinda'll teach you about this better than I can.”

Jax bundled up the trash and carried it out the back door. He was stuffing the plastic bag into a metal can when he heard Mr. Crandall say, “What're you going to do about the kid, then?”

Jax froze. Mr. Crandall and Riley were around the corner in the backyard.

“I dunno. I really didn't think he'd be a Transitioner, let alone busting out with talent before he was trained.”

“He's a little young to swear his loyalty, but he'd be safe with us, and we could use an inquisitor.”

“No.” Riley's voice was firm. “Do you have any idea what it was like for me to rip him away from his cousins?”

“You didn't have a choice.”

“He had family willing to take him in. I'm gonna get him back to them if I can.”

There was a long silence. Then Mr. Crandall said, “Son, you always had a family in us. We
wanted
to take you in. If you hadn't been so stubborn . . .”

“I had a bull's eye on my back,” Riley said. “I knew what I was doing.”

At school, Giana looked at Jax as if he were dog poop she'd found on her shoe. Jax couldn't get out of sitting across from her in science class, but he stared straight ahead and pretended she wasn't there, even when Billy gave him a blow-by-blow account of her every move.

“Dude, she just gave you the most evil look. What did you
do
to her?”

“Nothing.”

He hoped Giana's revulsion for him would wear off. His own aversion for Riley had subsided, but he was still mad. Now that Jax knew what his guardian could do, he realized Riley must've
ordered
the case worker to think Jax was happy. He probably used his magic to make sure Naomi quit fighting for custody, too. It even explained
why the hearing had been canceled.

An eraser bounced off Jax's head, flicked across the aisle by Giana's friend Kacey. Jax clenched his hands, willing himself not to snap. Giana didn't know why she hated him so much; she only dimly understood that Jax had compelled her to talk to him and resented him for it.

He hadn't meant to scare her, and he was sorry he had, but he didn't dare speak to her. Riley had sent him off to school with the warning, “Try not to interrogate anybody until you know what you're doing, okay?” and Jax was half afraid to open his mouth. It kind of burned him up, though, that Giana had no idea the massive coolness she was missing out on.

Busting out with talent
. Jax had an extra day of the week and magic of his own. He had a connection with people out of legends, like Merlin and the Lady of the Lake. He even had a mysterious neighbor “haunting” the house next door—a girl who lived one day a week and would be back tomorrow, in fact. A girl nobody wanted to explain to him. A girl Riley had told him to stay away from.

But you didn't
order
me, Riley. Your mistake
.

Mrs. Unger waved cash when Jax dropped off a few groceries for her that night. “I have your money. Plus extra.”

“You don't have to pay me extra, Mrs. Unger.” Jax put
the last of her groceries in the refrigerator and pulled one final item from the bag. “I got this for you. Well, for your garden, actually.”

“Oh!” Mrs. Unger exclaimed. “Isn't that the cutest thing ever?”

Jax hoped so. He'd finally realized who must be doing all the weeding and tending of Mrs. Unger's garden, and he figured this goofy item might appeal to someone who enjoyed that kind of thing. It was a twelve-inch-high figurine of a smiling garden gnome standing with a bunch of mushrooms, holding a sign that said,
Have a FUN-gi Day!

To make sure the message was understood, Jax had glued a large index card to the sign that read: greetings from your next-door neighbor jax.