Falcon Quinn and the Black Mirror (14 page)

After lunch they broke into smaller groups for Shame, to begin to learn some of the practical steps for resisting
their monster natures. Halfway to his classroom, however, Falcon thought he heard someone mention his name. There was a large group of teachers and staff having a heated discussion in one of the classrooms, and he paused for a moment to listen.

“They should not have been admitted,” said a voice that Falcon recognized as belonging to Algol, the hunchback. “Mistakes, the bowf of 'em, I say.
They should be eaten, by wormzies, they should! They should be—
”

“Mr. Algol, please,” said Dr. Medulla.

“Forgive me, master,” said Algol. “It's me greatest fault, expressin' me opinions so free 'n' all. But all I 'av evah, evah done was to please
you
, me master!”

“Enough,” said a silvery voice. “It stops talking now.”

Falcon crept forward to see the speaker, then pulled back when he recognized the moth man. He remembered that Mr. Pupae had been introduced on the first night as the acting headmaster. He looked very serious, sitting there with his dusty wings and blank, sleepless eyes.

“Let us stick to the facts, please,” said Mrs. Redflint. “Just the facts. Dr. Medulla.”

“Quinn, Falcon. Undiagnosable,” said Dr. Medulla.

“By you,” grumped Mr. Shale.

“Let us say undiagnosable thus far,” said Mrs. Redflint. “But the facts, once more. So that all will be clear.”

There was the sound of files shuffling and papers
being rattled. “Bifurcated aspects to the cerebrum,” said Dr. Medulla. “Eyes of different colors, and different nature. Necrotic tissue on the upper back. And the hearts, of course.”

“Hearts?” said Mr. Shale. “Hearts?”

“Yes,” said Dr. Medulla. “Falcon Quinn has two hearts.”

Falcon, listening from his post outside the classroom, fell back against the wall, as if he had been struck by a blow. Even as he fought the urge to shout, to burst in among the teachers and tell them that they had made a terrible mistake, he suddenly knew that it was true. He put one hand upon his chest. He could feel it there, against his fingertips—his pulse, and yes, beneath this, something else gently pulsing, something waiting to be known.

I have two hearts,
Falcon thought.
I have always had two hearts.

There was a great deal of talking and shouting all at once. Mrs. Redflint banged on the table. “Please. Let us focus. These hearts, Dr. Medulla—are they of equal size? And temperament?”

“They are not of equal size,” said Dr. Medulla. “The ventral heart is the larger and seems to be monstrous in nature. But the other, the dorsal heart: smaller in size, but growing. Growing rapidly.”

“What is this second heart?” said a voice Falcon recognized as Willow's. “Is it—human?”

“Perhaps,” said Dr. Medulla. “It has some human qualities. But there are other aspects of it that seem to suggest”—his voice lowered—“one of
them
.”

Again there was a lot of shouting, and it was hard for Falcon to hear some of what was said. But it didn't matter what they said.
Now I'm beginning to understand,
Falcon thought,
why I've always felt torn between things. It's because I'm neither one thing nor the other. Or maybe it's that I'm all things at once. Both monster and human. Or both monster and
—monster destroyer?

The shouting died out, and then there was a pause. “This is most unfortunate,” said Mrs. Redflint. “Dear, dear.”

“I wouldn't want to stake my reputation on it,” said Dr. Medulla. “But some of the other symptoms conform to this diagnosis. The blue eye is particularly troubling.”

“It is,” said Mrs. Redflint. “I have seen that eye. The boy does not know what he is capable of.”

“Why would he have been brought here,” said Willow, “if he's—”

“Mr. D.'s mandate,” said Mrs. Redflint, “is to pick up in his bus anyone who exhibits a monstrous nature. The first day of spring, in the thirteenth year. And Mr.
Quinn certainly fits the criterion. As you know, we've been quite accurate over the years. We've only had one false admittance before.”

“Scratchy Weezums,” said Algol wistfully. “Wot a piece a business that was!”

“I suppose,” said Willow. “But from where I sit, it's a surprise that situations like this don't happen more frequently. You know how it is—once they hit thirteen, well, for heaven's sakes, who
doesn't
seem like a monster?”

“Its dual nature is not a complete surprise,” said the moth man, “given its history.”

“Still,” said Mrs. Redflint. “I had hoped—”

“Hope is not a diagnosis,” said Dr. Medulla.

“They are seeking him,” said the moth man. “The others. One of them came to the grandmother's, to capture him.”

“Why? To destroy him?” asked Willow.

“Or get 'im to join 'em,” said Algol. “Become their fearless leader.”

“Well?” said Mrs. Redflint. “Which is it?”

“It is not clear,” whispered the moth man in his silvery voice.

“Why don't we just destroy him?” said Mr. Hake. “That way everyone's happy!”

“Turn him to stone!” said Algol. “Like we did wif' Scratchy Weezums. Gargoylize him, and put him up on
the column, next to Weezy! They'll be a matchin' pair!”

“But he might be a gift,” said Dr. Medulla. “The guardians may want him for this very reason. He might be a threat to them. A new mutation with gifts we do not yet comprehend.”

“Or a mutation with the power to destroy us all,” said Mr. Shale.

“It must be made to reveal itself,” said the moth man. “So that its nature can be known. That is the choice.”

“But how long can we wait,” said Mrs. Redflint, “if the child is really not one of us? We cannot simply wait for this other heart to emerge the stronger.”

Now there was a long silence. Falcon stood still, trying not to move a muscle, but his heart was pounding in his throat. His
hearts
.

“What about the Frankenstein, then?” said Mr. Shale. “This—
Jonny
.”

“Another mystery,” said Dr. Medulla. “On the surface he seems like a traditional reanimated mosaic, like so many of the others we get each year. And yet there's something about him that makes the monstrastat short out. I've never seen anything like it before—the system crashed twice before I gave up.”

“Maybe it's the machine,” said Mr. Hake. “Maybe its vacuum tubes were wearing their smiles upside down?”

“Perhaps,” said Dr. Medulla. “But my own impression
is that the boy has been taken apart and resewn too many times, by an abundance of different masters. There are whole sections of him that seem to have been dead for years. By any measure, the boy seems to be an unstable assemblage.”

There was a pause as this sank in.

“Is he volatile?” asked Mrs. Redflint.

“There is a high likelihood of some decomposition,” said Dr. Medulla. “As things stand now, I'd give him a fifty-fifty chance of degrading completely.”

“But that would put the other children at risk,” said Willow, “if the boy erupts. Or explodes.”

“It would,” said Dr. Medulla.

“Mr. Pupae,” said Mrs. Redflint, “has the headmaster been informed of the complications?”

There was silence at the mention of the headmaster. For a long moment the teachers and the medical staff sat in their seats, shifting uncomfortably.

“It spoke to me this morning,” said the moth man. “It is very—
concerned
about the situation. It said it might have to come down from its tower, and have a look firsthand.”

“Leave the tower?” said Mrs. Redflint. “He said that?”

“It did,” said Mr. Pupae.

“But he hasn't left the tower since—”

“It is very
concerned
,” said Mr. Pupae.

“Very well, then,” said Mrs. Redflint. “Let's observe
as Mr. Quinn's monstrosity emerges. If Mr. Quinn is one of us, well, there is the hope that the monster side of his nature will conquer—
ahem
—the other. If not…well.”

“And the Frankenstein? If it is a Frankenstein?” said Mr. Shale grumpily. “Are we just to wait and see whether it self-destructs?”

“Let us agree,” said Mrs. Redflint, “that their time is not unlimited. Both these students will have a short period to prove themselves. After that we must make our decisions.”

“Gargoyles,” said Algol. “We'll make gargoyles out of 'em.”

“Wait,” said Willow. “You said the guardians came to the grandmother's house?”

“A trailer, yes,” said the moth man.

“What did they do to her? When they found that Falcon was not there? Did they—?”

The moth man sighed. “When they found the child missing, they did what they always do. Gamma Quinn—was
destroyed
.”

F
alcon lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. There was a knock on his door, and Megan peeked in.

“Hey,” she said. “You okay?”

Falcon didn't say anything.

“You missed dinner,” said Megan. She wavered slightly, and her hair blew around. “I brought you some chocolate-chip cookies,” said Megan. “Do you want some?”

“No,” said Falcon.

Pearl buzzed into the room and hovered at the foot of his bed. “You are not yourself, Señor Falcon,” she said. “You should share your burdens with your friends. We who have sworn to protect you!”

“You can't protect me,” said Falcon, and his dark eye throbbed.

Pearl and Megan looked at each other. Then Pearl said proudly, “I shall decide to whom my protection is offered! I shall be the one who determines—”

“Pearl,” said Megan.

“Ah,” said Pearl. “It is understood. Some things are
better addressed with soft words than the point of a dagger.” She bowed gently. “I withdraw.”

Pearl buzzed out of the room, and Megan looked after her. Megan was wavering in and out now, a half-translucent being, blown this way and that by winds unseen.

“What?” said Megan. A strong gust seemed to blow her out for a moment, like the flame of a candle, but then she rematerialized. A smile flickered on her lips for a half second. “Tell me.”

Falcon just looked at her and sighed. She was already becoming unrecognizable to him, and not only because she was transforming into a wind elemental. Megan had discovered something when she'd learned her true nature, and this discovery had given her a sense of wholeness that she had not known before. And it was this very sense of wholeness that now eluded Falcon as he sought to find a name for the thing he was becoming.

“I'm serious, Falcon,” said Megan. “I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you.”

But no sooner had she said this sentence than Megan vanished completely. The drapes moved as the wind blew threw them, then fell still again.

“Megan?” he said, looking around the room. “Megan?”

 

In the dream Falcon was standing on the dock at the edge of Carrabec Pond, reeling in his line. A smallmouth bass
crashed through the surface of the water, the sun reflecting off its shiny, mucosal skin. Gamm stood next to Falcon on the dock, watching her grandson reel in his catch.

“Look,” said the child, holding up the fish. “I got him!”

The bass flapped back and forth on the hook. Falcon was only eight years old. He'd never caught a fish this large before.

“He's a feisty fella,” said Gamm, laughing.

“Can we fry him up and eat him?” said Falcon. “Can we?”

Gamm shook her head. “Bass are no good for eating, Falcon,” he said.

“Aw, please?”

“Falcon,” said Gamm, putting her hand on his back. “You should let him go.”

“Let him go? Why? I just caught him!”

“Look at the fish, Falcon,” said Gamm. “He's a noble creature. You should let him live. Out of respect.”

“Respect for what? For a fish?”

“Respect for the world that has such creatures in it,” she said. “Go on. Let him go. It's an act of mercy.”

Falcon didn't really want to let the fish go, but he did what he was told. With one hand he held down the spiny fins, holding the fish's slimy skin. With the other
he removed the hook from its mouth. He took one more look at his grandmother's face, then kneeled down on the dock to lower the fish back into the lake. It shuddered for a moment, still stunned, as it entered the water. Then, with a flash of its tail, the fish swam away.

“There,” said Gamm. “Now he's free. Who knows, maybe you'll catch him again. When you're both a little larger.”

Falcon stood there on the dock and looked at the waters. “Did my dad like to fish?” he asked.

Gamm put her hand on his back. “He did,” she said.

“Is he with the angels now?” said Falcon.

“I don't know, Falcon,” said Gamm, looking into the depths of the lake's dark waters. “All I know is that he's gone.”

 

Falcon opened his eyes. His dorm room was dark. Lincoln Pugh snored softly in his bunk overhead.

Gamm
, he thought. He'd never been sentimental about his grandmother before; most of the time when he thought of her, he thought of the discouraged, sad woman in the trailer in the heart of winter, trying to start the woodstove. But it hadn't all been like that. There'd been moments of joy as well, like the day he'd just recalled in his dream. It seemed unfair that he'd only begun to remember these
now that he knew that she was gone for good.

Jonny whispered through the darkness, “You awake?”

“Yeah.”

There was a long pause. Jonny said, “Rough day?”

“I guess,” said Falcon.

Jonny rolled over. “Megan said you were all black and blue about something.”

“She came back?” said Falcon.

“Yeah,” said Jonny. “After about an hour. I think she's still trying to get the hang of the whole wind-elemental thing. Sometimes it takes her a while to put herself together.”

Falcon laughed softly, bitterly. “She said, ‘I'll always be here for you.' Then she
vanished
.”

“You know what?” said Jonny. “That happens to me
all the time.
”

“Your friend turning into a wind elemental?”

“No,” said Jonny. “People disappearing on me.”

They lay there in the dark for a little while. Lincoln Pugh snored.

Then Jonny said, “You in trouble?”

“Yeah,” said Falcon. “I think we're
both
in trouble, actually.”

“That's a surprise,” said Jonny in a voice that made clear exactly how little of a surprise it was. “What now?”

“The doctors,” said Falcon. “I heard them talking. There's something weird with our tests. They still don't
know what I am. And they think you're unstable.”

Jonny grunted. “Unstable. Right.”

“I heard all the doctors and the teachers having this whole big meeting about us. They say they're going to give us a little time to prove ourselves, and if we don't work out, they're going to—get rid of us.
Turn us into gargoyles
.”

Jonny swore. “What do they think? I'm going to blow up?”

“Something like that.”

“So they're going to turn us into stone. Perfect.”

“You're not, are you? Going to blow up?”

“Why, you worried?”

“Actually, if you did, it'd solve both our problems.”

“What do they think's wrong with you? They don't like your face or something?”

“They think I'm only part monster. They're afraid the other part is guardian. That's what they're afraid of: they think I was sent here to kill everybody.”

“Were you?” said Jonny.

“Were
you
?” said Falcon.

There was a silence. “We gotta get out of here,” Jonny said.

“Right,” said Falcon. “As if that'll happen.”

“Sure, it'll happen,” said Jonny. “If we play our cards right.”

“What?” Falcon felt his hearts begin to pound.

“So far it's just a plan. But I got somebody working on it. Somebody who wants to get out of here even more than you.”

“Who?” said Falcon, but even as he said this, he already knew the answer.

“Weems.”

“How's he going to escape? You can't get over that wall. It's impossible.”

“No,” said Jonny. “But you could go under it.”

“Under it? How?

“Down in the catacombs. There's a tunnel. He comes from a long line of boatbuilders or something. He's going to make a ship out of coffins.”

“He's building a ship out of coffins? That sounds insane.”

“It's not insane,” said Jonny. “Why shouldn't you be able to get out of here that way? I've escaped from places worse than this, in ways dumber than that.”

“Seriously?” said Falcon. “Like what?”

There was a long, long silence from Jonny's side of the room before he replied. “The orphanage,” he said.

Falcon thought about this. “There are orphanages for Frankensteins?”

“Are you kidding?” said Jonny. “There's orphanages for everything. Me, I got sewn together by some genius, two seconds later he gets all guilty at what he's done. Next stop
is the workhouse. I knew hundreds of guys with the same story. Only the difference is, they got to stay there. The lucky ones. Me, I got adopted—and returned. Nobody wants you if you're degrading.”

Falcon considered this.

“So Falcon,” said Jonny. “Who's Gamm?”

“What?”

“Who's Gamm? You said that name in your sleep.”

“My grandmother,” said Falcon. “She raised me. The guardians killed her.”

“Oh, for—when? When did this happen?”

“Right after I came here, I think. I just found out. The teachers were talking about it.”

“Nothing's ever enough for them,” Jonny muttered. “They just have to—” He caught himself. “Now you know how I feel. Now you know what it's like to be alone.”

“I was alone before,” said Falcon. “I've never felt like I belonged anywhere.”

“Yeah, well,” said Jonny. “If you're half monster, and half monster destroyer, that would explain that, wouldn't it? You know, what you could do, Falcon, is hunt yourself. The guardian side of you could hunt the monster side of you. It's a problem that solves itself, isn't it?”

Falcon didn't say anything in response to this. “Sorry,” said Jonny. “That was supposed to be a joke.”

“You really think they're just going to let us float out
of here on some boat?” said Falcon. We sail down that tunnel in the catacombs, and they'll just let us go?”

“I don't know,” said Jonny. “Beats getting turned to stone, though, doesn't it?”

Falcon hoped that this was true. But as he thought about it, he recalled the words his grandmother had spoken so long ago, about catching and releasing. He wondered whether the faculty at the Academy for Monsters would agree with her, that sometimes you have to let creatures go—out of respect for them, and out of respect for a world in which such creatures are contained.