Everland (24 page)

A small boy bursts from behind a pile of machine parts and stands toe-to-toe with me. His brown eyes glaze with rage. He’s captivating in a chubby-cheeked kind of way and his determination is bigger than his stature. Something stirs within me, a piece of my former self longing for the days Jack and I adventured into the forest until dusk, playing in tree forts. I don’t know who changed first, him or me. With the death of his father and my … my disfiguration, we both became different people. The jubilant boy he once was died the day he buried his father, and my joy was lost the day my mother struck me, taking my innocence along with my eye. I stare at the young boy, recognizing the fierce expression. It’s the countenance I saw in my own reflection, the same expression when Jack said we weren’t brothers anymore before he bolted from his father’s funeral. He blamed me, but I had done nothing other than offer Jack’s father the spiced cider from my mother. It was the only kind thing I’d ever seen her do for anyone, and I wanted to be a part of that occasion. He was dead by morning.

“They’re gone and it’s your fault,” the boy shouts. He throws a dirty teddy bear at me and pummels me with his fists. It doesn’t hurt. Each time his little hand connects I feel nothing, empty.

“Mikey! I told you to hide,” a teenager covered in dirt admonishes. His chains rattle as he lurches toward the boy.

I kneel in front of the boy and regard him, scrutinizing him from head to toe. “Perhaps you Lost Boys could be useful.”

I try to snatch Mikey’s wrist, but he bolts and hides behind the bigger boys.

“You leave him alone,” the boy with the dirt-stained face shouts, tugging against his shackles.

Chains clattering, three urchins step in front of Mikey, attempting to intimidate me as they tower over me.

“If you want Mikey,” Justice says, “you’ll have to get through us.”

“It’s just as well. He isn’t vital to my plan,” I say.

“You won’t ever find Bella or Gwen. They’re too smart to get caught by you. Gwen and Pete are probably storming your stinky palace as we speak, and when you get back she’s going to have rescued her sister and Bella and you’ll have no one. Then she’ll come back here for her brother, Mikey, and the rest of us,” one says before sticking out his tongue.

“Gabs!” Justice growls, yanking the boy back. “Dozer, look after him.”

The teenager with the dirty face waves Gabs behind him.

I pick up the stuffed bear and study it, piecing together the bits of information tossing about in my mind. Her sister? Is it possible that the girl the soldiers caught earlier is another sibling of these two? But that can’t be. With the girls dropping dead so quickly, how is it possible two sisters and a brother have survived? Regardless, I need to get my hands on her, and the only way to her is through Pete.

“So my brother was telling the truth. She
is
headed for the palace,” I murmur, standing and ignoring the three teenage boys still attempting to appear daunting as they hover near. “Well, we should be sure we’re there to welcome her.”

“Captain, what should we do with the Lost Boys?” Smeeth asks.

“Gather them up and bring them along. They may be useful. Especially that boy.” I point my gloved hand toward Mikey, who cowers behind Dozer. What better way to convince Gwen to come out of hiding than to entice her with her little brother.

“No!” Dozer shouts, struggling to keep my men from reaching Mikey.

Turning toward the tunnel to leave the cavernous Lost City, I mull over the details I’ve just learned when a rock whirs past me, striking the stone wall. The low rumble of thunder churns within me, ready to explode. No one attacks me. Not without paying harsh consequences. I storm over to the teenage boy with a stone gripped in his clenched fist, the interim leader, Justice. What a conveniently appropriate name. I grip him by his shirt, my other hand reaching for my pistol, ready to remind him who he’s dealing with, when Mikey wails loudly. An iron fist grips at my chest. He’s just a boy, a child. He’s already seen enough violence in his short life. I turn my gaze back at Justice. He scowls at me, unafraid. I shove him to the ground and leave my pistol holstered.

“You ought to know by now that boys are not immune,” Justice says, bolting to his feet, ripping a glove from his hand with his teeth, and throwing it to the ground. He holds his hand up. Boils cover his fingers from the tips of the pads down to his palms. “You yourself said that you believe immunity lies in the girls. We have nothing to offer you!” Justice shouts.

I’m aware of this truth already, that the boys are not immune, and not just because the Professor has told me. My knuckles pop as I squeeze my fists. Face-to-face, I peer at the boy.

“On the contrary, you may be much more useful than I originally thought,” I say, spittle spraying Justice’s face.

Justice doesn’t budge but stares back, unblinking.

“What do you mean?” Gabs squeaks.

My gaze, fixated on Justice, narrows. “I need Gwen. The entire Lost Boy tribe will surely be enough to entice Pete to make an appearance. Especially if I offer a few of you as snacks to my pets. Tick and Tock aren’t picky. A crocodile’s got to eat.”

“No!” Jack says, his voice echoing from a darkened tunnel. He thrusts forward into the dim light of the Lost City, cuffed and standing between two Marauders. “You promised, Hook! You said you wouldn’t hurt the Lost Boys!”

“Ah, yes, I forgot to introduce my stepbrother. I’m sure you boys know Jack. He’s the one who led me to your hideout.”

Justice’s eyes widen. “Jack? All this time you were one of them?” he says incredulously.

“It’s not what you think,” Jack pleads. “Gwen was all he wanted. He doesn’t want any of us. Just Gwen. Once he has her he’ll let all of you go.”

Gabs’s lower lip quivers. “She’s a Lost Girl. She’s one of us. How could you give her up?”

“Jack is a Marauder now, not a measly Lost Boy,” I spit. I grip Jack’s chin and jerk his head, revealing the Marauder’s mark blistering behind his ear. The Lost Boys gasp collectively and erupt in accusatory shouts and curses.

Jack wrenches his chin from my grasp and looks away. A deep line forms in his brow.

“You’re nothing but a traitorous pirate!” another one of them yells.

The Lost Boys watch Jack in wonder, whispering between themselves. I consider my brother, his rage boiling behind his dark eyes. I could release Jack to the Lost Kids and, with a little encouragement, his punishment would be crueler, more brutal than anything he experienced at Lohr Castle. Perhaps, though, Jack could still be useful.

“
Pirate
has such a nasty connotation,” I interject between the accusations. “We are Marauders, not pirates. We pillage, steal, kidnap, and murder at the pleasure of the Bloodred Queen.” I nod to a group of Marauders, their rifles trained on the boys. “Take them to the palace, but keep Mikey close. I think we’ll need him to coax his sister from hiding.”

Justice kicks another stone at me. This time, I don’t duck quite fast enough and it connects with my forehead. I reach to touch the lump I can already feel growing on my head and pull my hand away. Blood shimmers on the fingertips of my black gloves beneath the lamplight.

“Nice shot, but you will regret that, Lost Boy.” I snatch my pistol from its holster. The sound of a single gunshot drowns out the collective gasps of the boys. Justice’s eyes grow wide as he reaches for his chest. A crimson stain blooms on his waistcoat. He stumbles back, falling against a rock wall before slumping to the floor. His lifeless eyes stare coldly at me.

“Bloody pirate, I’ll kill you!” Gabs says, throwing weak punches at me.

I flip the pistol in my hand, gripping the barrel, and smack him across the head with the butt of the gun. He flies to the floor in a crumpled heap. Blood bursts from a gash on his cheek. I stoop over him and smile.

“Time to go to Everland, Lost Boys.”

T
he tunnel curves to the left, and after traveling for a while, we reach a gilded door covered in mismatched metal gadgets. Lily spins gears, switches levers, and tugs on wheels in an elaborate sequence. The door clicks. She pushes the door and steps into a dimly lit space. A faint antiseptic scent of alcohol tingles my nose. Sheets partition the space, creating three makeshift rooms. Cotton balls, bottles of alcohol and hydrogen peroxide, bandages, and other first aid supplies fill an open cabinet over a stainless steel sink. When we enter the room, Lily shuts the door behind us. A series of metallic grinding and clicks emanates from the other side of the door, securing us into the small room.

“Come on,” Lily says, reaching a delicate hand out to Pete, “let’s fix you up.”

Pete takes her hand and gives her a lopsided smile as she guides him to a partition and pulls the sheet aside. Something new stirs within me, and I suddenly feel protective of Pete as I glance at her gloved hand in his.

“It’s only a scratch. I’m fine,” he says.

“Sit,” she says, nodding to Pete. He settles on the bed, the bandage on his arm soaked through with blood. “I’ll at least clean it and apply a fresh bandage before the Professor arrives.”

Pete removes his dark green coat. He winces as he pulls off his shirt. I catch myself staring at his shirtless torso, noticing that the canvas of tattoos continues over his defined chest muscles and cut abs. The black and brown inks scrawl across his body in a network of pictures that look as if his flesh has been peeled back and his insides are made of the inner parts of a clock. Wheels and gears ink across his chest in place of a heart, lungs, and stomach. In the faint glow of candlelight, his body appears to be more machine than human.

Noticing my stare, Pete looks at his chest. “I always thought the world couldn’t hurt me if I was machine, not flesh,” he says, covering the tattoos with his arms. “I know. It’s a silly boy’s dream.”

I force my attention away from the inked wheels, cogs, and bolts on his chest and to his eyes, which sparkle like green sea glass. My cheeks grow warm. “It’s beautiful,” I say, hearing the surprise in my own voice. He gives me a tired smile.

Pickpocket clears his throat, reminding me of the audience around me, and I feel heat crawl up my neck, face, and ears. Mortified, I berate myself. I’ve been brave in the face of danger, dodged bombs and bullets, eluded soldiers, fought others for supplies, but a shirtless boy makes my legs feel weak.

“How do you know the Professor will come?” Mole asks.

Lily pulls supplies from the cabinet and places them on a metal cart. “She comes nightly after the soldiers make their final rounds of the palace. Once they know she’s secured in the lab, she tends to her patients here.”

“And who are her patients?” I ask, settling down on the end of Pete’s cot.

“Other orphans. I search the streets for abandoned children and bring them here for treatment before they are sent from Everland to safer territory,” Lily says.

Pete’s mouth turns up in a crooked smile. “Sounds like a familiar story,” he says.

Lily’s brows rise in a curious expression, but then she returns his smile. “As I’m sure you know by now, everyone is infected by the virus even if they aren’t showing symptoms. Inevitably we all will be sickened by the Horologia virus. Without her treatment, we will all die. Especially the girls.”

“What about you?” I ask, finally addressing the unspoken question I’m certain we all are thinking.

Lily pulls off her gloves. Scabs cover the tips of her fingers. My hope plummets.

“You’re infected with the virus, too?” Doc asks, appearing equally disappointed.

Lily gives him a puzzled look. “Isn’t everyone?” she says, pulling on latex gloves.

“Gwen’s a real Immune,” Mole says. “Or at least that’s what Doc thinks.”

Lily glances down at my hands. Something flicks in her gaze. She turns her eyes to Doc and he nods in affirmation. Lily grips my hands, inspecting each of my fingers. “Fascinating!” she exclaims. Her eyes grow wide. “You must be the one the Professor has been searching for.”

“Searching for me?” I ask with some apprehension as I slip my gloves back on. “How did she know I existed? I’ve just found out myself that I’m immune.”

Lily brings her supplies over to Pete’s bedside. “The Marauders were bringing children to her lab daily. Even though she could escape at any time, the Professor has remained here as a prisoner, believing that there was only one child who was truly invulnerable to the virus. One person who she swore would be resistant. She refused to leave until she found the Immune whose blood contained the antidote to the Horologia virus. I think it was you she must have been speaking of,” Lily says. She peers at me, excitement in her dark eyes. “For nearly six months now I’ve been sneaking around Everland rescuing kids, bringing them here for treatment, and then sending them away to safer lands, along with medication.” She spins on the heels of her boots, rushes to me, and grips my arms. “With you here, we could all leave Everland
for good
. If you really are the Immune she is looking for, we can have a true antidote. Not just medicine to treat the symptoms. A real cure!”

The weight of her words settles on my already tight shoulders. Inching backward, I move closer to Pete. Detecting my uneasiness, he grips my hand. The warmth of his fingers intertwined with mine brings a wave of calm over me.