Brother to Dragons, Companion to Owls - Jane Lindskold [42]
“Couldn’t?” Professor Isabella tilts her head. “Or didn’t care to? Still, Abalone, I recognize this code. It means they have him scheduled for transfer within twenty-four hours. They may have decided that we weren’t going to respond and wanted him out of the way.”
“If it were done when ’tis done, then ’twere well it were done quickly,” I say.
“Macbeth, Act One, scene seven,” Abalone replies, reaching for her night cloak.
“Lines one and two,” Professor Isabella adds, her words punctuated by the sharp, closing snap of the door as Abalone heads out into the night.
Nine
THE NEXT NIGHT COMES COLD AND DARK, DARK, THAT IS, IN the shadows and alleyways through which we make our approach on the Home. In the skies above, where we might seek omens of favor, the ambient city lights have washed out the stars as too much milk washes the taste from coffee.
We rattle through the subway tunnels to a rendezvous point where Abalone says we will be met by the Four.
“They’ve abandoned the Jungle,” she had told us when she returned the night before. “The place isn’t safe any longer. Even the social workers are daring to come there now—got a couple of the Cubs. Gray Brother told me that he and Head Wolf had anticipated such possibilities and that there are other hideouts. None so good as the Jungle, but they’ll do for now.”
When we skulk our way to the rendezvous point, we are met almost immediately by a slight figure, white and grey in the shadows: Edelweiss. Murmuring the Master Words for greeting, she slips a hood over her icy hair and beckons for us to follow.
We do. Me, once again cream-haired and jade-eyed, though the former is mostly concealed by a cap and the latter behind tinted shades. Betwixt and Between ride in a day-pack that leaves my hands free. Professor Isabella is next, incongruous in her tidy tweed slacks and matching jacket. Her soft-soled pumps click slightly against the sidewalk as she walks, her breath coming a little fast. Abalone is once again blue-lipped and fire-topped, her wolf tattoo shows through a cutaway in her charcoal skintights, her tappety-tap hanging from a broad belt around her waist.
I nearly do not recognize where we have come until Edelweiss is pushing the door open. Then the scent of stale coffee and cream of mushroom soup wafts from the humid interior and I know.
Professor Isabella whispers, “When I Was Hungry.”
I can hear puzzlement in her voice.
We walk down an L-shaped hallway, through the darkened kitchen, toward the rumble of voices. I recognize several and realize that my heart is quickening in anticipation of rejoining the Pack.
Anticipation flips into dismay as Edelweiss leads the way into the pale fluorescent light of the main cafeteria. The long plastic tables have been shoved into a rough U and the Pack members lounge on tabletops, chairs, and floor. In the center of the group, sitting stiffly on a garish orange chair, is Jerome.
No bonds restrain him, yet he sits as if tied. Only his eyes move, watching the young men and women with fear and betrayal. I wonder to how many he has given food and shelter.
Although Edelweiss means to keep us in the L, I circle right and run forward, skidding on the linoleum floor and ending up on my knees by Jerome’s chair.
He puts out a hand to steady me and though his grip is strong, I feel an almost imperceptible trembling.
“You know these people, Sarah?”
I nod. “I was a stranger and ye took me in.”
“So that’s where you went. In all your visits, you never told me.” Jerome’s hand does not leave my arm, but his attention shifts outward. “What do all of you want here?”
Grey Brother, the leader of the Four, runs his finger along the wide scar beneath his right eye. The scar is genuine, his lime green hair and orange eyes are not. He caresses the howling wolf tattooed on his left forearm before speaking.
“We’re gonna free Head Wolf,” he says, “and you’re going to get us in to him. We know you work in the nuthouse.”
“The nuthouse—the Home, y’mean?” Jerome asks, and at Grey Brother’s nod continues. “Sure, I work