The Veil (31 page)

The high councilor nodded, and I twisted around in my chair as Damon Mallory gestured behind him for the unknown witness to be brought forward. Mr. Stratton and Luc turned in their chairs as well, as confused as I about whom Damon Mallory could possibly be referring to.

Luc and I both gasped as a figure in an ill-fitting brown suit came through the double doors and made his way awkwardly across the room, straight toward the Inquisitors’ platform. The shiny, bald head that bobbed up and down with each galumphing step was unmistakably Principal Chatsworth’s, even though he did not so much as glance at our side of the room. He went to stand beside Damon Mallory.

“Chatsworth,” Mr. Stratton growled through clenched teeth.

“Did Damon Mallory
make
him come?” I asked. I’d never been the biggest fan of Principal Chatsworth, but I had a hard time believing he really intended to sell me out. I also couldn’t begin to imagine what he could possibly say that Damon Mallory would consider important.

But then I remembered how he’d given me such a hard time on the night of the fire in the auditorium, and suddenly, I knew. Principal Chatsworth was working for Damon Mallory. It was the only explanation.

Mr. Stratton seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “I doubt he was forced to come here,” he said grimly.

Prompted by Damon Mallory, Principal Chatsworth gave a full accounting of every move I made in the days since my birthday, taking his time to highlight any action that could possibly be considered “disruptive.” I listened as he described my interruption of precalc after I’d witnessed Sonya jump through the classroom window and the strange flames that erupted out of the otherwise peaceful bonfire at the rally. He spent a great deal of time recounting my spectacular stage dive that resulted in the school auditorium burning to the ground. He especially emphasized how the fire department, the police department, as well as “several other human authorities,” all became deeply involved in an investigation and had, according to Principal Chatsworth, only cleared me of any wrongdoing after an “enormous amount of effort” on
his
part.

Beside me, I felt Luc tense up. I looked at him questioningly. Then it occurred to me that Principal Chatsworth’s defection to the Others was the answer to the question that had been bothering Luc for days.

I
did
sense an Annorasi in the auditorium
—
but just one
, Luc had told me on the drive home from the police station when I had asked why he hadn’t been able to sense Oran Tighe.
And I assumed it was Principal Chatsworth.

On the night of the play, I had seen Chatsworth in the auditorium before the play began—when he wandered backstage to wish us all luck. And I had seen him right after the fire broke out. But where had he been
during
the performance—during the time when Oran Tighe came onto the stage? Had he snuck out during the play and then back in again during the fire, coordinating his
timing with Oran Tighe so Luc would only be able to sense one Annorasi in the auditorium at any given time?

That would certainly explain Chatsworth’s unexpected goodwill appearance backstage before the show. I’d wondered what could have possibly prompted our unfriendly principal to do something so totally out of character. But now I knew exactly why—he wanted to make sure Luc saw him. In order for his ruse with Oran Tighe to work, Chatsworth had to make sure Luc thought his father’s “loyal” agent was in the audience. That way, Luc wouldn’t think twice about sensing an Annorasi in the theater.

And I was willing to bet that the two of them, Chatsworth and Oran, had worked out a similar plan so Oran could follow me around school without Luc being the wiser.

I could tell from the look on Luc’s face that this was all occurring to him too. He shook his head and muttered, “Stupid.”

I squeezed his hand. How could he have possibly guessed his father’s agent had been working with Oran Tighe to fool him? At least now we knew. But I could tell Luc was furious with himself for not having figured it out sooner.

Damon Mallory returned to his chair, and Mr. Stratton jumped up.

“Alfred, I must admit I am personally disappointed to see you here today,” he said.

“Times are changing, Renard,” Principal Chatsworth informed Luc’s father coldly. “I have no choice but to change with them.”

“Perhaps,” Mr. Stratton said evenly. “Is it your testimony that Ms. Prescott was the actual
cause
of any of the strange events you just described to us?”

Mr. Chatsworth pondered this for a moment as small trickles of sweat appeared on his forehead; he appeared much more uncomfortable facing Mr. Stratton than he had been facing Damon Mallory.

“Not the bit with the cougar,” he admitted, pulling a handkerchief from his breast pocket and using it to dab his sodden forehead. “But
the rally and the auditorium fire—yes, I believe so. Who else could it have been? The only other Annorasi besides me who was present at both of those occasions was your son, Mr. Stratton, and I’m sure you don’t want me to blame him—”

“We’ll come back to the subject of the rally,” Mr. Stratton interrupted. “Right now I’d like you to clarify a few points about the night of the auditorium fire.”

“Gladly,” Principal Chatsworth said hurriedly.

Mr. Stratton paced for a moment and rubbed his chin thoughtfully with one hand before he turned to face the principal. “Frankly, I’m a bit surprised the incident is being brought up at all.”

“Surprised?” Chatsworth exclaimed. “How can you say that? She made a scene in front of hundreds of humans—it was an incredibly public display!”

“Yes, but a public display of
what,
exactly?” Mr. Stratton demanded. “It’s my understanding the fire was started by a human-made object—a flare gun. Is that correct?”

“Well, yes,” Principal Chatsworth admitted.

“A flare gun that was inadvertently fired when Ms. Prescott collided with the human who held it, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“And the human authorities who questioned Ms. Prescott about the incident did so in order to investigate the possibility that the flare gun had been loaded deliberately, isn’t that right?”

“Yes . . .”

“Well, then you’re going to have me help me out here. I fail to see a single thing in this sequence of events that has anything at all to do with the Annorasi world.”

Principal Chatsworth bit his lip and looked over at Oran Tighe. I could see where Mr. Stratton was going with this; Principal Chatsworth couldn’t testify that my “public display” had resulted from my ability to see Oran Tighe without also admitting Oran Tighe had been there that night. And Principal Chatsworth was
not about to tell the Inquisitors that—let alone that Oran Tighe had been the one to load the flare into the gun!

Mr. Stratton was right—without Oran Tighe, there was nothing to connect that night to the Annorasi world. And the Council was not going to execute me merely for being a troublemaker and an arson suspect.

I did my best to keep my face calm, but inside I allowed myself the teeniest little hiccup of hope that I would be leaving this room alive.

“Principal Chatsworth,” Mr. Stratton said sternly when his onetime agent simply frowned down at his lap instead of answering, “if someone were interested in making Ms. Prescott look bad, in making it seem as though her presence raised dangerous questions among human authorities, how do you think that person would go about it?”

Principal Chatsworth looked up and glared. “I wouldn’t know.”

“It seems to me,” Mr. Stratton mused, “that one of the simplest ways of furthering that aim would be to create disturbing situations that might illicit a reaction from Ms. Prescott—situations such as her best friend about to be shot with a live flare gun. Or a frightening scene in a rally bonfire. Remind me—you have an ability that allows you to manipulate fire, do you not?”

The principal appeared to be at a total loss for words. Mr. Stratton simply shrugged and took his seat.

The high councilor dismissed Chatsworth, who shot a fearful look at Damon Mallory as he made his way out of the room.

Damon Mallory merely shook his head; there was a slight smile playing across his lips that I found disturbing. Mr. Stratton had obviously just gotten the better of his witness. What could possibly be making him smile like that?

I began to feel a dull, pulsing pain in my stomach. Something wasn’t right. Something about this whole thing wasn’t right.

Before I could put my finger on the problem, the high councilor
began to speak again. “Mr. Mallory,” he said, “I hardly think a few school pranks—which I believe we can all see Ms. Prescott was in no way responsible for—are sufficient to show we are all in imminent danger of Ms. Prescott exposing our world to even a
single human
.”

Mr. Mallory nodded slowly, and the thudding pain in my stomach immediately stopped. Not going away, but holding its breath to hear what my accuser was going to say next. “You are correct, High Councilor. Forgive me for not bringing in my next witness sooner.”

“And who might your next witness be, Mr. Mallory?” the high councilor asked, with a slightly irritated sigh.

Damon Mallory’s grin widened until he was smiling from ear to ear. “Nathan Anthony Whitting.”

——

T
HE HIGH COUNCILOR SAT PERFECTLY STILL
, but at least four of the six Inquisitors around him squirmed uncomfortably as two gray-suited guards dragged Nate through the double doors in the back of the room.

All at once, it was painfully obvious why Damon Mallory had demanded that my meeting with the Council take place in the human world. It was not, as Mr. Stratton had assumed, to highlight my “human side.” That had been only a fringe benefit of the plan. The main benefit was that it allowed him to bring a full-blooded human before the Inquisitors.

I twisted around and nearly knocked over my chair trying to jump to my feet. Luc and Mr. Stratton each pressed a firm hand down on one of my shoulders, but they couldn’t keep me from screaming “Nate!” as soon as I caught sight of that familiar, untidy head of brown hair.

Barefoot and clad only in blue flannel pajamas, Nate was bound head to foot in what looked like duct tape but shone too brightly to be anything other than an Annorasi creation. His frightened eyes searched the room, finding only the shocked faces of the Inquisitors until he finally caught sight of me.

“Young man,” Mr. Stratton warned, stepping into the aisle and drawing Nate’s attention away from me, “do not say a
single word
. Do you hear me?”

But either Nate didn’t hear him, or he wasn’t inclined to follow Mr. Stratton’s advice, because as soon as his eyes landed on me again, around the side of Mr. Stratton, he burst out, “Addy! It’s true? It’s all
true
?”

“Oh,
Nate
!” I buried my head in my hands.

The high councilor banged his fist against the table to call the suddenly noisy room to order.

Mr. Stratton leaned down and spoke directly into my ear. “What is this, Addy?” he asked, his voice tight with fury. “What did you tell him?”

“Nothing!” I yelled, not caring who heard as I finally raised my head. I glanced over at Luc, who looked utterly terrified and angry at the same time. I continued in a whisper. “I didn’t tell him anything—I swear! He read my journal, but I told him I’d just made it all up, and he believed me! He didn’t know! I swear, he
didn’t know anything
!”

“He does now,” Luc said tonelessly.

Mr. Stratton sat back down in his chair, eyes searching the empty tabletop in front of him for a solution.

Oran Tighe rose from his chair beside Damon Mallory and cheerfully took Nate from the guards. Grinning down at Nate’s terrified face, he led him straight before the high councilor.

“Addy,” Luc whispered; I leaned my head slightly to the left in order to hear him better, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of Nate. “Addy, whatever happens here, I need you to keep your head. Do you understand me? Whatever happens.”

“Why? What’s going to happen?” I whispered back.

Luc didn’t answer. He just took my hand again under the table in a grip that could have crushed steel.

“Mr. Whitting,” the high councilor said, “tell me what you know of the Annorasi world.”

Nate opened his mouth and poured out every single detail I’d written down in my journal. Every word felt like it was ripping a hole in my heart, but he plowed on and on. Maybe he thought that the more details he gave, the more he could show he knew, the better. That was generally the way things worked in the human world—the more you knew, the better. He couldn’t have known that here, in this world, knowledge could get you killed.

At least, it could get you killed if you were a human.

When he was done, he tried to glance back at me, but Oran Tighe caught him roughly by the chin and forced him to face forward again.

“And you came by this knowledge from reading Ms. Prescott’s journal?” the high councilor asked.

“Miss Pres—you mean Addy?”

“I am referring to the young lady sitting behind you,” the high councilor said carefully.

“Yes, it was in Addy’s journal.”

“And did she give you this journal to read?”

“No,” I couldn’t see his expression, but I imagined it was shamefaced. “I found it.”

“And how did you come to be here today, Nathan?”

“These two guys in suits came to my house—” Nate began.

Damon Mallory shot to his feet. “I hardly think it matters, High Councilor, how this human came here or how he came by the knowledge he has just admitted to having. The fact that he
is
here and
does
know these things is enough. Clearly, Ms. Prescott could not resist telling her best friend her big secret—who’s to say who else she will tell? Or who this human will tell? I only hope we are not already too late to keep this news from spreading still further.”

“High Councilor.” Mr. Stratton stood up as well, “This is
ridiculous
. Clearly Mr. Whitting’s awareness of the Annorasi world came about by accident, and was by no means even fully formed in his mind until Mallory dragged him here.”