The Villain Keeper (24 page)

Caden worried over the conditions in which Jane was being kept. He didn't voice his worries to Tito. “We need to interview the janitor. Maybe he knows something more. According to Tonya, he's Ward's father, and he knows the teachers are villains.”

At that, Tito shook his head. “The janitor's like seven feet tall and he doesn't speak to anyone, especially students.”

Caden was confident he could get this janitor to speak, and what did the janitor being seven feet tall have to do with anything? Caden's second oldest brother, Maden, was over seven feet tall and Caden spoke to him all the time.

“He speaks some—he spoke to Officer Levine,” Caden said.

“Like I said, I'll try anything.” Tito sounded defeated and certain. “But we'd have better luck just asking Ward, and he doesn't talk either.”

“Ward talks to me,” Caden said. “He'll help us.”

“Bro, he thinks you're nuts.”

“Quiet!” Rosa yelled up.

Tito looked down at his hands like he was lost.

Caden's father often said, “A prince serves his people. A prince is compassionate.” Caden needed to show compassion now. Tito needed it. “Rosa will not kick us out,” Caden said. “Not for the phones.”

Tito looked unsure. He glanced at his stacks of books and traced a finger along a purple thread on his ugly quilt. “Maybe, maybe not,” he said.

Caden got up, crossed the taped line to Tito's messy side of the room, and sat beside him.

“What are you doing?” Tito leaned away. “You've got the same freaky look you had when you knighted me with the broom.”

“My sword was taken,” Caden snapped. He took a calming breath and placed a hand on Tito's shoulder. This was a serious matter. Proper decorum was important. “Dear foster brother,” he began.

Tito groaned. “Whatever you're going to say, please don't.”

Caden ignored him. “If we are kicked out, which is highly unlikely,” he pointed out, “you may live in the woods and eat tubers with Sir Horace, Brynne, and me. After we find Jane, she may live with us as well.”

Tito looked surprised, still somber, but surprised.

“I will show you how to build a shelter,” Caden added. “It's a needed skill for an Elite Paladin.”

“No offense,” Tito said, and scooted away, “but I'm not living in a shelter in the woods and eating tubers. Neither is Jane. We're not rabbits. Go back to your side of the room. You're invading my personal space.”

Caden knew of no rabbit that ate tubers, but perhaps Ashevillian rabbits weren't carnivorous. He stood back up. “You're picky like a rabbit,” he said.

Tito's shoulders still slumped, his voice still sounded weary. Caden supposed he could sacrifice his food preferences to reassure his friend.

“Fine,” Caden said. “If you do not wish to eat tubers, I suppose you could just eat rabbit. You must understand, though, it upsets Sir Horace when I hunt.”

Tito blinked at him. Some of the heaviness weighing on him seemed to let up. “Bro,” he said, “I don't believe for one minute you'd kill a rabbit.”

“I've hunted with my father and brothers for years.”

“So you're telling me, you've killed a rabbit?”

Truly, Caden was insulted. He was a soon-to-be Elite Paladin. He challenged dragons and despots. His goal was to slay a dragon—or lizard—or whatever he was to name the vile beasts. He didn't like hunting much when it involved the small and furry, but that was beside the point.

Caden crossed his arms. “I'm trained to survive.”

“I bet you cried like a baby.”

Caden went back to his clean side of the room. Tito was grumpy and irritating. If Tito wanted to eat rabbit, he would have to hunt for his own. He stretched and began his evening exercise regime. “Elite Paladins do not cry like babies,” he said, and turned away. “They cry like men.”

C
aden dreamed of the Winter Castle, of his father and his brothers, of Chadwin alive and the world as it should be—draped in the dark blues and sparkling silvers and golds of Razzon. When he awoke all was wrong. His bed was small. The room smelled of dust, must, and wool. Even in the faint light his quilt was unmistakably orange and pink.

“Go back to sleep,” Tito said.

For the briefest of moments, Caden wondered how Tito got to the Winter Castle. Then he pushed off the warmth of his quilt and sat straight up. He was not in his childhood room. He was in Asheville, land of the banished, and Tito was awake on the other side of the room. Caden's family was a realm away, and Chadwin was six months buried. He blinked and rubbed the ache for home from his face.

From Tito's side—across the tape barrier—came the sounds of swishing papers and the flashes of stray light beams. Sounds and flashes that had pulled Caden from his dreams of family and home.

He was about to ask Tito what he was doing, why Caden's sleep was being disturbed, but when he looked over he understood. Tito was propped up in his bed. His hair was pulled back from his face. He'd converted one of his book stacks into a makeshift desk; his flashlight was in his right hand lighting up the area, his blue pen in his left.

The contract was on top, split into a read pile and an unread pile. His red and green pens lay beside them in easy reach. Tito flipped through the pages with impressive speed and marked them like the pages in one of his school notebooks.

“What have you learned?” Caden said.

Tito paused, looked to the window, and twisted his mouth into a lopsided frown. “Nothing yet,” he said.

Outside, the moon was a mere sliver. However, there was no reason to dwell on things they couldn't change. He and Tito had no control over the movement of time. Nor was there any reason for Caden to let his memories of home deter him from his duty. The empty sky of the new moon would come with or without them, as later would the half-moon and his curse. They had to concentrate on the most pressing matter—finding Jane, and finding her soon.

He shook off the homesickness and turned on the lamp
beside his bed. If Tito was to spend the night working, Caden would provide him with proper lighting. He shielded his eyes as it washed the slanted walls in a warm, yellow glow.

Tito grunted and flipped off his flashlight. He switched to his green pen, underlined some text, and set another page into the read stack.

“How can I help?” Caden said.

“By going back to sleep.”

Although that was what he said, it wasn't what he meant. Caden narrowed his eyes and extracted himself from the bed. “You wish me to be silent.”

“It's almost Saturday. We're running out of time and I need to concentrate. The only time you shut up is when you're sleeping.”

“You say that as if I talk constantly.”

Tito's response was a pointed look. He stared for a moment. “You look weird. Well, weirder. You okay?”

Caden's sadness must have shown on his face. He squared his shoulders and smiled. “Of course,” he said. It was best he focus on the here and now. He reached under his bed. While Tito watched, his expression growing ever more suspicious, Caden hauled out spare sheets, towels, and fabric scraps he'd collected while exploring the house. “I, too, have things to do.”

Already, he'd tied some of the sheets together. Once finished, the patchwork would make a fine escape rope. The knots needed to be unyielding, though, the braiding taut.

Tito directed his pen at the burgeoning escape rope as if it was something smelly. “What's that?” he said.

“We need to be able to sneak in and out of the room.”

“Yeah, okay.” Tito turned back to the contract. “I'm not climbing down that. If we need to leave, we can sneak out the front door.”

“That would be expected.” Caden tightened the first knot. “And we were caught coming back in that way.”

With a derisive snort, Tito shook his head.

“You'll see I'm right,” Caden said.

“Sure, whatever you say, your chattiness.”

For a moment, they worked in silence. Caden, however, could not let his friend's veiled insult go unanswered. “I am not chatty,” he said.

“No?” Tito didn't look up. “I still hear you.”

“I'm defending my character.”

Tito let loose an exasperated sigh. “If the moon was half full, I'd order you to shut it,” he said.

“The moon is quite near the opposite, so you're out of luck.”

Early the next morning, Rosa knocked on their door. Caden stuffed his escape rope beneath the bed. Tito covered the contract with his purple quilt.

She peeked inside. “You're awake, good,” she said, and tossed Caden her army sweatshirt. “You've got cleaning to do.”

Truly, they had no time for housework, but Rosa gave Caden no opportunity to argue. These were the punishments as so decreed by her, foster mother and house warden: Caden was to clean the bathrooms, Brynne the kitchen, and Tito the living area. There was to be no television, no computer, and no other like distractions.

Caden's brothers also remained in his thoughts. If they knew he was doing the work of servants, their ridicule would never end. He had more important tasks to complete. Before Rosa turned to the stairs, he found a break to speak. “My maids usually do that,” he said.

Rosa turned and her face had hardened to iron. “Are you trying to aggravate me?”

Caden considered. “I suppose not.”

“Stop it then,” she said. “Be down in five. Brynne's already up.” She closed the door, and he heard her stomp down the steps.

Tito walked over and, with surprising force, smacked Caden on the arm. Tito's eyes were rimmed red from overuse, and there were dark circles beneath as proof of how little he'd slept. “Just do what Rosa says,” he said. “We need to get this done as quickly as possible.”

Caden pulled the army sweatshirt over his head. “Royalty doesn't clean houses. That's the way it is.”

“So? You like to clean. I saw you sweeping the room with the sparring broom, don't deny it,” Tito said as he dressed into his dark sweat clothes with impressive efficiency.
Truly, if he could learn discipline, he would one day make a fine Paladin. “Look, it's better than being staked to the ground and left for the dogs to eat, isn't it? And she's leaving for the day. We'll plan after she's gone.”

Tito had a point.

“You have a point,” Caden said.

“Uh-huh,” Tito said. On the top of the steps, he paused, his dark eyes concerned, his expression etched with sleeplessness and worry. “I finished reading it,” he said.

Caden stopped and focused on him. “You found something?”

“Maybe,” Tito said.

Downstairs, a disgruntled-looking Brynne waited for them. Her hair was pulled back like Tito's. She wore sparkly sweat clothes, purple sneakers, and the surly expression of a career criminal. For her part, Rosa was a quiet fury.

Rosa motioned them to stand by the sofa. They stayed at attention while she put buckets, mops, lemony smelling cleaners, and rags at their feet. “I expect it spotless.” She set the full force of her gaze on Tito. “When I get back I will ask if any of my rules were broken. Understand?”

Tito looked down. The question seemed to worry him. “Yes, Rosa.”

She placed a fond hand on Tito's shoulder and softened her voice. “The gallery closes at five. I'll be back soon after.” She grabbed her keys and coat, and went outside to load
her truck bed with welded metal sculptures.

They watched from the window as she revved the truck twice and carefully turned it onto the muddy road. Once the pickup was gone and its engine noise faded, Caden refocused on his friends. He motioned them to follow him into the kitchen. He poured three bowls of rounded, hollow grains, and handed out cut fruit. While they ate, he recounted what they knew. Sometimes connections were clearer in the morning. He hoped a clue to Jane's whereabouts would become evident.

Brynne just wanted to hear about the door. “Tell how it exploded again,” she said, and looked quite pleased.

Tito, also, seemed to notice her happiness. “Look, Miss Destructive,” he said, “it's not a good thing.”

Her smile grew. “My spell did more than move a bolt,” she explained. “That relieves me.”

Caden looked at her disapprovingly. From her continued pallor and tired eyes, it also seemed to have drained her more than moving a bolt would have. She blew doors from hinges and set mountains afire. She'd cursed him for life by accident. Caden wished to reach out and shake her. “You need to learn control,” he said instead. She would be no good to them comatose, and the new moon was closer and closer.

She waved him off and leaned over her grains to look at Tito. “What of the contract, Sir Tito?”

“It's long,” Tito said with his mouth full of mush.
Neither worry nor fear seemed to dampen his hunger. “It's like reading a warranty, and there're rules for everything. Like everything. Eating, sleeping, what clothes to wear.”