Stranger (26 page)

Felicité opened her mouth. Then she imagined what would happen after she spoke. They couldn't just exile Ross: he could come back through the tunnel with enemies. They would have to kill him. Her father would not hesitate if he thought it was necessary to protect the town. She imagined Ross lying dead in the dust, as he'd lain in the road, but with his white shirt soaked crimson.

Felicité closed her mouth. She couldn't bring herself to cause his death. She'd solved the mystery: she knew he was Changed, and she knew what his power was, but he clearly had no intention of using it to harm Las Anclas. All he seemed to be doing was harming himself. She could file this away with the other secrets she kept in her mental lockbox, with the mayor's seal stamped in gold across its fine wood.

“I watched him for hours,” Felicité concluded. “He didn't do anything but flirt with Mia and study. I never saw the book.”

Her father patted her cheek. “Sometimes learning that nothing is going on is as important as discovering information that seems more exciting. Good work, darling. Now, go get some well-earned rest.”

Mia

MIA DIDN'T NEED A LIGHT TO KNOW THAT ROSS WAS
gone and her cottage was empty.

She dropped her tool bag, then picked it up in case it contained something she'd need. Then she put it down again. What she really needed was a weapon that might work against the tree. At first her mind went blank, and then she knew what to do. It was exactly like her old master, Mr. Rodriguez, always said: “Desperation equals inspiration.” She picked up a jug of oil, a bow and arrows, and a heavy jacket, and fled.

She was inside the town hall before she remembered that a lantern would have been helpful. She felt her way into the basement and through the tunnel. When she found the lamp waiting at the mill, she knew Ross was still out there. It was a relief—but scary, too. Something was obviously wrong: sunrise was only a few hours away.

Mia held the jug tightly against her stomach and ran her fastest, the bow slapping against her back. She was out of breath when she spotted a body lying a few paces from the tree.

“Ross?” she called as loud as she dared.

There was no response.

“Ross, wake up.”

He didn't move.

She didn't see any blood, but if the tree had attacked him, it would surely attack her, too. She set down the jug and the bow, pulled on the jacket that wouldn't even stop a knife, let alone a crystal shard, and forced herself to take a step down the slope.

Tears stung her eyes as she slid the rest of the way. There was no warning chime from the tree, which gleamed bright as arterial blood in the starlight.

Ross lay on his stomach, curled into himself. She couldn't tell if he was breathing. She reached out, but stopped herself. When she was a child, she'd gone to pet her oldest cat and found it cold and stiff under the fur. She'd run away without telling her dad, as if so long as nobody else knew, it might turn out to be a mistake.

As long as she didn't touch Ross, he might still be alive. Once she touched him, whatever she found would be real and irrevocable. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to lay her hand on his shoulder.

Crystal leaves rang out a warning. She shielded her face with her hands.

“Mia?” Ross mumbled.

A sob of relief nearly choked her. “Ross. You're alive.”

He rolled over and stared up at the sky. “I'm so . . .”

“Sick? Hurt? Tired?”

“. . . dizzy.”

“Let's get you out of here.”

She dragged him back up the slope. He wasn't bearing any of his own weight, and she had to set him down in the cornfield. He lay as still as he had when she'd found him. She checked him over thoroughly, as her dad had taught her. He didn't seem to have any injuries, but there were signs of shock: clammy skin, shallow breathing, rapid pulse. She took off her jacket and wrestled him into it. A hand-me-down from her father, the jacket was baggy on Mia but tight across Ross's shoulders.

She put a hand on his chest to reassure herself that he was still breathing, then ran out to retrieve her bow and jug. When she got back, he was struggling to sit up, panting as if he'd run for miles.

Mia pushed down gently on his shoulder. “Take it easy. We've still got a few hours before dawn.”

He lay back down with a long exhalation of relief.

“What happened? It wasn't this bad last time.”

“It started out like last time,” he said slowly. “I could see like the tree sees, in patterns of heat. I could see animals. A person—probably the bounty hunter.”

“Do you think he saw you?” Mia asked.

Ross continued as if he hadn't heard her, as if he were trapped in a dream. “I tried to make a deal with the tree. Built a wall in my mind, so I could shut it out when I need to. Put a door in the wall, so I could let it back in. I tried going deeper. I could hear every tree. From here to the nearest ruins. They all remember how they grew. From the deaths of animals and people.” He drew a shaky breath. “No, I didn't hear the trees. I felt them. I felt all those deaths.”

He was shivering as if it were winter. He looked more pale and ill than when she'd first seen him, unconscious on her dad's operating table.

Mia said fiercely, “I'll destroy that thing.”

“You can't.”

“Oh, yes I can. I figured it out. It's growing in a hollow in that gully. Liquids flow down. If I pour oil down the slope, it'll pool around the trunk. Then I light an arrow and shoot it into the pool, and that thing burns.”

“No.” Ross grabbed her wrist. “You can't! If you kill it, I think you'll kill me. That tree is part of me, don't you get it?”

Mia took refuge in the comforting process of logic. “Okay, Ross. You said you could hear the trees—sorry,
feel
the trees all the way up to the edge of the ruins. But no farther than that, right?”

He nodded.

“So that's the farthest edge of your range. Everything has some kind of range. You go far enough, you can't hear voices, and you can't see light. Changed people who can feel emotions or sense things can only do it up to a certain distance. So if you go far enough away, you won't feel that tree anymore.”

Her throat hurt too much to go on. She'd always known that Ross might leave, but this was the first time she understood that he might not even have a choice.

“I'd have to stay away,” Ross said slowly.

His life is more important than my feelings,
she told herself. “I'll get you a gun. That'll even things up with the bounty hunter. Your hand is better now, right?”

Ross reached out and put his left hand on hers. “Yeah.” Then, with a grunt of effort, he sat up, bracing his right hand on the ground. His hair hung down around his face. “I feel sick. But better. I think I can walk.”

He didn't look like he could. “Let me help you. I'm putting your arm around my shoulders, okay?”

He nodded. Mia hooked the oil jug to her belt, slung the bow and quiver on her back, pulled Ross's arm over her shoulders, and put hers around his waist. He didn't flinch, but that didn't make Mia happy. It meant he felt so terrible, things that would normally bother him barely even registered.

He leaned heavily on her as they walked, making her glad she spent so much time lifting engines. She was strong enough to prospect, and like Jennie said, prospectors were basically specialized engineers. Maybe she could go with him when he left, to explore the desert and blast their way into amazing ruins. But she hadn't walked two more steps before reality intruded. Ross would probably run away from her if she suggested it. And she couldn't imagine leaving Las Anclas without its engineer, let alone leaving her dad and Jennie and her relatives and the cats.

They were halfway down the road when Ross said, “I'm not leaving.”

Mia was too scared to hope. “But nothing's been fixed. You can't live if you can't sleep.”

“I'll figure it out.” They walked a few more steps, then he added, “I might have gotten through to it this time. I'm not sure. I'll have to see.”

She stopped, and braced herself. “Ross. You have to promise me you won't ever, ever go back there alone. I don't know what I can do, but maybe I can do something. I was worrying the whole time I was fixing the winch. It probably took much longer because I was distracted.” She shut herself up by biting down on her lower lip. “Promise.”

“Okay.” He lifted his head to look into her eyes. His nose was two inches from hers. The starlight bleached his face of color, but she could see the strain. “I promise.”

They trudged up the road, matching their steps, hips bumping, his fingers gripping her shoulder, hers tight around his waist.

When they passed the gardens in the town square, instead of heading for her cottage, she steered him toward the surgery.

Ross dug in his feet. “I don't want to go to my room.”

“We're not going to your room. We're going to the infirmary.”

“What will we say? You can't tell about the tunnel.”

“We don't need to say anything. Dad's a doctor. He'll take one look at you and put you to bed.”

Jennie

JENNIE WAS GLAD TO SEE DEE SKIPPING ALONG,
spilling grain out of the bucket as she went to feed the chickens. She might not be happy about her dust devil power, but the coming dance had certainly cheered her up.

“. . . and Z thought Yuki should dress like a prince.” Dee tilted her head. “What does a prince wear? In that book with pictures, they wear metal armor. Did he wear metal armor on his ship? How could he dance in metal?”

“I'm sure he won't wear metal anything,” Jennie said.

“Oh! Hey! Is Ross out of the infirmary yet? It would be so sad if he had to miss his own dance. And never see my dress.”

Jennie smiled. “I haven't seen him yet, but Mia said Dr. Lee would let him out this morning. And I know he was looking forward to the dance.”

“Do you think he'll dance with me?” Dee gave an extra skip.

“If you ask him nicely, he might. Actually, try asking him nicely and giving him a slice of Pa's buttermilk pie.”

Dee hefted the feed bucket and started to step into the chicken coop. Without quite knowing why she was doing it, Jennie grabbed her by the shoulder and jerked her back. Grain flew everywhere.

“Hey!” her sister protested. “What did you do that for?”

Jennie held out her arm to stop Dee from trying again. “I don't know,” she said slowly. “There's something wrong. Let me take a look first.”

Her sister sighed impatiently. “You haven't fed the chickens for weeks, that's all. They're just bigger—the ones that are left, anyway. C'mon, we have to get our decorations set up!”

“That's next,” Jennie reminded her. “We promised Ma—”

“I know, I know. Animals come first.” Dee fiddled impatiently with the grain pail as Jennie studied the coop. One thing was obvious: the chickens seemed spooked. They were all on perches or up in their nests, not pecking around in the dust like usual. Maybe a predator had just left. But the wicker door was still latched.

She unhooked it and peered in, looking for drops of blood or paw prints. The dirt was absolutely untouched, without even a chicken track to disturb it.

Dee shifted the pail again, muttering, “Jennie, can you move?”

There was something familiar about that perfectly even layer of dust. Where had she not seen prints where there should have been—?

“Dee, get back. Now!”

Jennie grabbed the rake leaning against the coop and prodded at the nearest lump of hay. A wad of white fur fell out.

It was an animal's pelt, but there was no blood on the inside, only a smooth membrane. It was more like a snake's shed skin than the remains of a kill. She used the rake to spread it out on the ground, trying to get a sense of its original shape.

Dee shrieked. “It's Princess Cloud! Something ate her!”

Jennie examined the pelt. “What kind of animal was Princess Cloud?”

“I don't know,” Dee sniffled. “She was little and cute.”

“Where did you find her?”

“On patrol.”

“But you haven't been—” She stared at her sister. “You know you don't bring wild animals inside the gates.”

“But Yuki and Meredith knew.”

The pieces of the puzzle snapped into place. The last time Dee patrolled had been the snake attack. So one more rule had been forgotten that day, and by Yuki and Meredith, of all people.

Jennie picked up the rake in both hands. “Get behind me.”

She struck down at the too-smooth dust. The entire floor of the coop crumbled away, and the smell of rotting meat wafted up. Chickens rocketed into the air, sending feathers in all directions, and one settled at the bottom of the gaping hole. A fang gleamed white, and the chicken was dragged squawking into the dust.

“A pit mouth!” Dee howled. “A pit mouth ate Princess Cloud!”

Jennie turned on her sister. “The pit mouth
is
Princess Cloud!” Dee ran screaming, the grain swirling in tiny whirlwinds behind her. Jennie ran after her, into the kitchen. “José! I need you to guard the chicken coop. Make sure no one gets near. There's a pit mouth in it.”

José choked on the plum he was eating. “In the chicken coop? Seriously?”

Jennie glared at him. “Yes. Now go!”

She yanked on the fire bell beside the door. Everyone tore into the kitchen. “Where's the fire?” asked Yolanda. A gust of wind rose up in emphasis.

“It's not a fire. There's a pit mouth in the chicken coop.”

Every face stared back at her with the same disbelieving expression.

“Yes!” she shouted. “A pit mouth! Never mind how it got there. Everybody, out of the house. Tonio, Dee, go warn the neighbors, and stay with them when you're done. Yolanda, go tell the sheriff and the watch commander. I'm getting Mia, because I know what they'll want done.” She glanced at her grandmother.

Grandma Riley nodded. “Good plan. I'll tend the little ones.”

Jennie ran.

When she reached Mia's cottage, she flung open the door without knocking, and stood on the threshold trying to catch her breath.

Mia stood in the middle of the room in a dress that seemed composed entirely of pink ruffles. She had a smear of black dust across the tip of her nose. A bewildered-looking Ross was perched on the bed, between two engines.

“It looks nice?” he was saying.

While Jennie caught her breath, she noticed that he looked much better: eyes bright, body relaxed. Like he'd actually gotten a good night's sleep. “You better take the dress off,” she said. “I have something for you to blow up.”

“Wow!” Mia clapped her hands, then rubbed them together. “A dance and an explosion on the same day! What is it?”

Jennie was already sick of the reaction she knew she was going to get. “There's a pit mouth in our chicken coop.” And she was not disappointed. Both Mia and Ross gave her
that
look.

“I'm on it.” Mia fluffed at her skirt, sidling a desperate glance at Ross, then at Jennie, who jerked her thumb at the door.

“Oh. Right.” Ross ducked out, and then stopped. “Need any help?”

Jennie laughed. “With the dress?”

“With the explosion?” Mia said. “Sure!”

“The dress looks great,” Jennie called as she closed the door behind Mia. “Ross, so do you. Feeling better?”

“Yes.” He glanced at the people bringing decorations and dishes to the tables set up around the square. “I needed a little time to, um, rest.”

Mia's door banged open while she was still buttoning her overalls. “I'll need my wagon, and . . .” She stopped. “Did you say it was in the chicken coop?”

“What's happening?” Ms. Salazar rushed up from the table she had been decorating, leaving a trail of sparks in her wake.

Before Jennie had a chance to speak, Sheriff Crow strode to the front of a gathering crowd. Everyone was pelting Jennie with questions, at least half of which she could have answered with,
Yes, the chicken coop.

The sheriff clapped her hands. “We'll hear the story once. At the site. If you have business there, come along. Otherwise, back to whatever you were doing.”

Hordes of people trailed behind them by the time they got to the Rileys', where they found an aggravated José fending off busybodies with the rake.

“Glad you're here!” he said. “Aunt Flora went to get Ma.”

The onlookers scattered at the sight of Sheriff Crow. Soon Mr. Preston arrived, leading helpers from the armory who pulled Mia's demolitions cart.

“Now's the time,” Sheriff Crow said. “Jennie, what happened?”

Jennie gave her report. The sheriff listened closely, then said, “What was it that you noticed first?”

“In retrospect, maybe that no chickens were on the ground. They didn't even jump down when they saw us coming with the grain. Though I only realized that now.”

Sheriff Crow gave a firm nod. “Excellent observation. You were right to trust your instincts.”

“Observation?” Mr. Preston shook his head. “You had a pit mouth in the chicken coop, eating your chickens for weeks, and nobody noticed until now?”

José said politely, “Mr. Preston, the pit couldn't have been there for weeks. I was inside the coop feeding them yesterday morning.”

“It must have built the pit overnight.” Jennie eyed the coop. “But the pelt I saw was small. My guess is that it was hiding in the straw or even buried in the dirt during the day, and coming out to eat the chickens at night. Until it metamorphosed.”

Mia waved her hand wildly. “Where is that pelt? Can I have it?”

“If you want it. I sure don't. Where did it go?”

José lifted an overturned bucket, revealing the crumpled lump of fur. “It was giving me the creeps,” he said apologetically.

Mia picked up the pelt with a pair of tongs and tucked it away in a gunpowder bag. “Dad will want it. The first ever pit mouth specimen! Too bad it's only the skin.”

Jennie's pa pushed through the crowd, pulling a drooping Dee with him. “Sheriff, I believe my daughter has something to tell us all.”

Dee unhappily explained how she'd found “Princess Cloud.”

“Where are Yuki and Meredith?” the sheriff asked.

Meredith stepped forward. “I'm here.”

“Go fetch Yuki,” Sheriff Crow ordered. Meredith ran.

Mia and the demolition team, assisted by Ross, began to set up their equipment. Jennie watched the two of them having an intense discussion over the explosives.

“What's he doing here?” snapped Mr. Preston.

Mia and Ross both started. Mia said, “Ross has experience with explosions in confined spaces, when you don't want to bring down other parts of the structure. I've only blown up things out in the open.”

Ross pointed at the house with his slide rule. “The chicken coop is pretty close. Since we don't know how deep the pit mouth is, we have to use enough explosives to make sure we get it, but direct the blast so the house doesn't come down.”

“Please!” Jennie exclaimed, not caring if it sounded like she was begging. “Let him help! We've lived in this house for generations.”

Mr. Preston waved his hand. “I'd forgotten that prospectors use explosives. Back to work.”

Meredith had returned, with Yuki in tow. Both of them looked apprehensive. “Did you see Dee pick up a strange animal on patrol?” Sheriff Crow asked.

“Yes,” they said together.

“We meant to make Dee take it to quarantine, but the snakes attacked, and I forgot all about it.” Meredith elbowed Yuki. “You forgot too?”

He gave a brusque nod, his mouth a tight line.

Mrs. Callahan spoke up. “This is why we have quarantine rules.
My
children are trained to obey—”

Sheriff Crow clapped again, the sound sharp and loud. “Everyone who doesn't have business here is dismissed.”

Mr. Preston frowned, but didn't object. The crowd began to disperse in twos and threes, still chattering.

The sheriff glanced from Yuki to Meredith. “You two will help the Rileys fix any damage caused by the explosion.”

Meredith and Yuki agreed fervently.

“Dee!” Sheriff Crow continued. “I'll leave your punishment to your parents. This is why we've raised the age for patrols. It's too easy for little mistakes to grow into big ones.” She glanced from the tuft of white fur sticking out of Mia's bag to the chicken coop. “In this case, literally.”

Then she glanced at Mia, who waited beside the plunger. “Ready, Mia?”

When Mia nodded, the sheriff ordered everyone farther back.

Jennie fought the instinct to yell “Wait!” so she could run inside and get just one thing, but she didn't even know what that one thing would be.

Mia counted down from ten. Nothing moved except for the shadow of a passing hawk.

Jennie closed her eyes. The shock wave rocked her backward. Bits of dirt stung her face and hands. There was a moment of silence.

Then her pa's arm slid around her shoulders. “It's okay, Jennie. We didn't lose the house.”

She opened her eyes. The chicken coop had been replaced by a giant hole, but the house stood. Three bedroom windows had shattered, and the wall next to the shed had a crack in it, but it stood. The only real wreckage was the supply shed that had been between the house and the coop.

“Our decorations!” Jennie exclaimed, remembering what that “one thing” was. “Our table for the dance! Everything was in the shed!”

She ought to be happy that the house was safe, but all she could think of was the work that had gone into the Riley table: her ma's playful carved animals, her pa's crocheted place mats, her own embroidered pillows for the benches . . .

Dee began to sniffle. “My doilies! I decorated each one!”

Her father patted her comfortingly. “Tom, I'd like to make certain there's no structural damage to the house.”

“I'll tell Julio to send an alternate team on the afternoon patrol,” said Mr. Preston.

“Rileys!” her father called. “Nobody goes inside until the carpenters and I have made sure it's safe. Not even to get your dancing clothes.”

Jennie ruefully plucked a feather from her overalls.

Brisa ran up. “I'll get you replacements!”

As she tore off, Dee wailed, “I don't care about replacement chickens!”

Mrs. Callahan said loudly, “I doubt the Preciados have any chickens to spare.”

Meredith and Yuki came up next. Neither of them could look Jennie in the eye.

“I'm so sorry,” said Meredith.

“It's okay,” Jennie replied, trying to mean it.

“It's not okay,” said Yuki glumly. “I wish there was some way we could make it up to you. Besides cleanup.”

Meredith smiled. “Why don't you take a look at my new dress? It's not finished yet, so you can alter it to fit yourself. It's dark red cotton. I think it'll be gorgeous on you.”