“He told me I was going against the High Court’s protocol. He said that I was letting the Undead trick me; that this was how the Undead boys of the Liberum operated. I asked him what the boy had done. He told me the boy had been working for the Liberum, and that was all I needed to know. I remember looking at the skinny outline of the boy’s body. It didn’t matter what the High Court said; I couldn’t do it. My contact asked me for my location, then told me to leave the boy in the barn. A group of Monitors from the High Court would be there soon. I asked the Monitor on the phone if he was absolutely sure that he had the right Undead. He said yes.
“I should have left it at that, but something about his voice made me wonder. So after I left the boy inside the barn, I crouched behind a bale of hay and waited until the Monitors arrived. There were only two of them, both men. I couldn’t see their faces in the dark; all I could make out were their hunched shoulders that shifted while they walked, and their Spades, which they carried low to their sides like axes.
“I knew something was wrong when I saw them in the light. Both Monitors were wearing wool face masks, which we’re never supposed to do. Monitors are always supposed to make their identities known. They walked into the barn and immediately started questioning the Undead boy. ‘What did you tell him?’ one of them said, in a voice that sounded like he was trying to disguise his identity.
“‘Nothing!’ the boy said.
“‘Did you tell them about your mission?’ the other Monitor asked.
“‘No,’ the boy said. ‘I did just as the elders told me to when they first sent me to the Liberum. They already questioned me about the Brothers and what they were looking for; I told them everything I knew. When I was finished, they said I could go free.’”
Theo furrowed his brow, his gaze distant as if he were still crouched by the entrance of the barn. “I had no idea what the boy was talking about. It sounded like the elders had
sent
him to the Liberum on purpose, and had already questioned him and decided to set him free. But if that were true, then why would they have sent me there to bury him?”
Beside me, Anya hugged her knees.
“The elders had sent the boy to the Liberum to find out about the Netherworld,” I said.
Theo nodded. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but now I’m certain that was what the boy was talking about.”
While Theo spoke, Anya leaned into the tent and opened her tin of elixirs. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her measure a handful of pills into her palm. She washed them down with a sip of water.
“The two Monitors didn’t seem to care what the boy said,” Theo continued. “They dragged him into the middle of the barn and pinned him down. One of the men removed a roll of embalming gauze from his pack and began to wrap the boy in cloth.”
Theo threw a splinter of wet wood into the fire, making it spit. “All I knew was that whatever the Monitors were doing was wrong, and I had to stop them. So I crept into the barn and pulled the chain on the bulb, leaving us in darkness. If I couldn’t see their faces, I didn’t want them to see mine.
“Everything went quiet. ‘Who’s there?’ one of them shouted, his voice gruff. All I could see were the whites of their eyes as they searched the barn. ‘Take off your masks and I’ll tell you,’ I said to them. They both turned in my direction. ‘Who are you?’ one of them said, stepping toward me. ‘I’m faceless and voiceless,’ I said, my words throaty so that I couldn’t be recognized either. ‘Just like you. You don’t want anyone to see what you’re doing. But I saw what you did.”
Theo paused. “That’s when I heard one of them move toward me. I couldn’t make out what was happening until I saw the tip of his Spade slicing through the air. I ducked out of the way just as it crashed into a wooden table. He swung at me again. I wove through the old furniture and equipment littering the barn. I didn’t notice the other Monitor waiting for me until he was close enough for me to see his eyes through the holes of his mask. I stumbled back as he lunged at me, just barely missing my chest. When I regained my balance, I swung back at him, aiming for his Spade. I meant to knock it out of his hand, but he moved it out of the way just before we collided. I felt my Spade hit something soft. Skin. Blood splattered across the wall. He collapsed to the ground. Just folded, like he was made of putty.”
Theo pushed off his wool hat and ran his hands through his hair. “I didn’t mean to kill him. It just happened. I dropped my Spade. When the other Monitor saw what had happened, he turned on the light and took off his mask. I recognized him as one of the Monitors who worked with my father. That’s when I got this awful feeling in my stomach. I gazed down at the man lying limp by my feet, a pool of red spreading around him. I turned the body over and pulled up his mask, already soaked through with blood. It was my father.”
Anya lowered her head in respect for the dead.
“The other Monitor took me back to Montreal, where they locked me in a holding cell beneath the High Court. I thought they were going to put me on trial, but halfway through the night, the guards unlocked the bars and brought me to your grandfather. The moment I saw him, I knew that I had seen something I shouldn’t have. Why else would he want to see me alone?
“He gave me some lame explanation: that they had been trying to get information about some plot the Liberum were going to launch on us. I didn’t believe him, but at that point I was too shaken to care. We made a deal. I wouldn’t tell anyone about what I’d seen, so as not to ruin the ‘undercover goals of the mission’. In exchange, instead of putting me on trial and letting the Monitoring community know that I had killed my father, your grandfather would explain his death away as a field accident. And I would be disbarred.”
“But it was self-defense,” I said. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Theo let out a callous laugh. “Not to them. I was the one who instigated the fight. I was the one who turned off the light, and crept in like an intruder; the one who swung the fatal blow. I should have just marched in, showed my face, and told them I was a Monitor. If they had put me on trial, I wouldn’t have had a chance. I was already a dropout and a known thief. It was my word against a respected Monitor. Who do you think the court would have believed?”
I looked at Theo, hunched over the fire, his sanded Spade resting by his side, his laces loose and caked with mud. I wouldn’t have believed him either.
“After that I moved in with my grandfather,” Theo said. “He doesn’t know what happened, and I hope he never does. Since then, I’ve been trying to figure out what the boy was talking about that night. What the elders were doing. I had theories, but none of them proved true until now.” He gazed at the notepad he’d taken from my grandfather. “That notebook fills in the gaps. The elders have been recruiting Undead through Gottfried for years. When your grandfather got into trouble at Gottfried, the other elders took over, and tried to recruit through lower Monitors like myself. Remember how I told you about my earlier missions, when I was searching for nonviolent Undead and bringing them to the High Court? I’m pretty sure that was just a way for me to bring new sources to the elders. All this time, they’ve been sending Undead boys to the Liberum to funnel information back about the Netherworld. When the Undead cease being useful, the elders set them free, and send a lower Monitor to bury them.”
“This was why Monsieur sent you,” I said. “This was why you wanted to come with us in the first place.”
Theo nodded. “I want a fresh start.”
I
LEFT
T
HEO AND
A
NYA
as night faded into morning. The tents of the Monitor camp were quiet. I wove through them, tiptoeing through the snow until I reached my grandfather’s spot. Through the gray fabric I could just barely see the outline of him sleeping inside. I didn’t know what I was going to say or do, only that I had to face him. With one swift motion, I threw open the front flap. But when I stuck my head inside, all I saw was a crumpled-up sleeping bag and a few of my grandfather’s things. He was gone.
Footprints littered the edge of the camp: not just one set but many, each leading out from one of the elder’s tents and up along the ridge. I followed them until a ring of dark specks materialized through the fog. The elders of the High Court stood huddled together. They turned to me in unison, their coats flapping in the wind.
“Renée?” My grandfather said. His white hair fluttered against his forehead. “Is everything all right?”
I surveyed the elders, then reached into my coat and removed his notepad. “No,” I said. “It isn’t.”
My grandfather tilted his head, unable to hide his surprise. “Where did you get that?”
“I know what you’ve been doing at Gottfried.” I took a step closer. “I know about the bombing of the High Court all those years ago. I know about Theo and why he was disbarred.”
My grandfather’s silence served as an admission of guilt. Behind him, the other elders inched forward, murmuring among themselves, but my grandfather held his hand up to stop them.
“Theodore was disbarred because he killed his father,” my grandfather said, his face calm. “The bombing of the High Court has yet to be solved. And as for our mission, though it must be performed covertly to assure its success, that does not mean that I am ashamed of it. The work we have been doing will not only prevent the Liberum, the most vile group of Undead from our generation and generations past, from attaining eternal life; it could also restore the lives of fresh Undead and humans alike across the
world.”
He was completely convinced in his righteousness. “But in the meantime, you’ve been letting the Liberum kill innocent people for years. You could have stopped them decades ago. And you’ve been burying your Undead recruits right after you question them.”
His upper lip curled, contorting his face into something awful. “We only bury Undead who pose a threat to others or endanger the mission, which could bring life to thousands of Undead and humans in the future. The Liberum play an integral role in our mission. They can use methods that we Monitors cannot.”
“You mean they can kill people for information, and you can’t. The Liberum have been murdering people to find out where the Netherworld is for years.” I thought back to all of the mysterious deaths that had jarred the Monitoring community last year. “Ms. LaBarge,” I continued, remembering when we had gotten the call that my old professor had been found dead on an island in Lake Erie. “Cindy Bell,” I said, her name transporting me back to that day when the phone rang, telling us about another murder, of my best friend’s mother. “My parents,” I said. “Your own daughter—”
“You don’t know that,” my grandfather said, clearly pained.
But I kept going. “They were all killed by the Liberum, because they had information about the Nine Sisters and the Netherworld. You had the power to stop the Liberum—”
“Renée—be careful of what you are about to accuse me of,” my grandfather warned.
But I couldn’t stop. Not now. “You’ve known where they were all these years. But instead of burying them, you let them continue killing. Those deaths are on you now. Because in reality, you don’t really care about helping the Undead, or about giving the world the gift of eternal life,” I continued. “You just want to use it to extend your own—”
Before I could finish, my grandfather grabbed my wrist with his leathery fingers. “That’s enough,” he said. “I do not need your blessing nor the Court’s to tell me what to do. I
am
the Court.”
I tried to wriggle free, but my grandfather held on, dragging me through the snow. “I would send you home, but then you wouldn’t be able to watch while we bury your Undead friend,” he said. “So for now, I’ll send you back to the tents.”
I kicked at him, thrashing beneath his grip, when a shiver rippled through the air. The fog rearranged itself, clearing a path in front of us toward the peaks in the distance. Through it, I could feel the presence of the Undead twisting around my ankles, my neck, my arms. Could Dante be among them? There were too many of them for me to tell.
My grandfather froze, his fingers loosening on my wrist. “They’re here.”
He turned to one of the elders. “Wake the camp. Tell the Monitors to ready themselves,” he said, and pushed me toward him. “Take Renée with you. She can wait for me at the camp.”
“I’m not going back—” I began to say, when the temperature dropped.
The elders gripped their Spades and turned toward the vacancy. My grandfather thrust me toward the camp. “Go!” he said, then followed the others toward the creeping hollow in the distance, the fog folding around their bodies until all I could see of them were the handles of their Spades disappearing into the mist.
The remaining elder took my arm, his gray gloves tightening around my coat, and dragged me toward the camp. With each step, the tug of the Undead pulled me backward. I stumbled behind him, trying to wriggle free, when I noticed the tip of the elder’s Spade glinting in its sheath against the back of his coat. One of the only things a Monitor would stop for was his weapon. I let my legs fold beneath me, intentionally falling into the snow. When the elder bent down to pull me up, I grabbed his Spade from its holster and threw it as far as I could. The elder spun around, stunned. I broke free and ran into the fog.
It seemed to part for me as I ran through it, the presence of the Undead carving out a trail through the mist. I could barely make out the dark shapes of the elders in the distance, when a deep crevasse materialized in the snow. I skidded toward the edge, trying to stop myself from sliding in, but the ice crumbled beneath my feet. I dug my fingers into the ground, searching for traction, when someone grabbed the back of my coat and pulled me to safety.
I fell back into the snow with a thud, my legs tangled with those of another. Theo groaned beneath me. “You’re heavier than you look,” he said, and pushed me off him.
Anya stood beside him, her chest heaving as though she couldn’t catch her breath fast enough. She leaned over, clutching her chest.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
Anya took a moment to gather herself, then nodded. But she didn’t look okay at all. Her face was exhausted, her shoulders hunched as though she didn’t have the energy to hold them upright.
“When you left, I had a feeling that something bad was going to happen to you,” she said. “Then Theo felt the Undead coming.”
“You’re welcome, by the way,” Theo added, picking up his Spade, and glanced over the edge. The crack in the ice was just wide enough for me to jump over, and so deep that I couldn’t see the bottom. A bit of snow crumbled off the edge and fell into the crevasse. I waited for it to hit the bottom, but heard nothing.
“Thanks,” I said.
I watched as Theo stood up, dusting off his bag. I eyed it. “Do you still have it?” I asked.
Theo hesitated, then lowered his pack and took out the black box. “Of course I do,” he said. “I steal from other people. No one steals from me.”
“Give it to me,” I said.
But he didn’t move. He gripped it tighter, as though he wanted to keep it for himself.
Anya nudged him in the side. “Give it to her,” she said, her eyes wide.
At her urging, Theo reluctantly dropped it in my hand.
I stuffed it in my bag, suddenly uncomfortable. “I meant it,” I said quietly. “When I thanked you. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“Died, is what,” Theo said, wiping the snow from his hands. “But don’t get too emotional. I didn’t do it for your sake. I just need you to get that chest from your boyfriend.”
I rolled my eyes, telling myself that he was joking, though his eyes weren’t teasing at all.
A shout sounded through the fog. I stared at the mist with apprehension, wondering what I would meet on the other side. Though I couldn’t sense Dante’s presence, the prickle beneath my skin told me he was there. “I have to find him.”
“I know,” said Anya. “We’re coming with you.”
Deep crevasses cut through the ice like scars. We maneuvered around them, the silhouettes of the elders growing larger, clearer, until we could see them gathered beside a jagged crack, the ice beneath their feet so thick it looked blue. I could feel the Undead before I could see them. The atmosphere was still and frigid, as if all the life had been hollowed out of it.
“Force them toward the crevasse!” my grandfather yelled.
The air around us rippled, as if the entire world was shuddering. A blur of white billowed over the crest in the mountain like an avalanche.
“Form a line!” my grandfather shouted to the elders. “Don’t let them surround us.”
We reached them just as they collided, the Undead boys tumbling into us in a flurry of hands and hair and snow, our shovels pressing them back. They clawed at our feet and hands, their tiny bodies slipping between our shovels. I felt the shock of an arm, ice-cold against mine. A pair of dulled eyes stared up at me, their pupils so clouded the boy must have been close to blind. I twisted out of his grip only to see a set of yellowed teeth biting into my leg. I kicked him off, swinging my shovel wildly as I pushed forward against their weight with the rest of the elders, trying to force the Undead closer to the crack in the earth. Theo and Anya fought beside me, their shovels clinking as they peeled the Undead off of their limbs and pushed them toward the opening.
My grandfather cleared a path before us, knocking the Undead aside with his Spade. With his other hand he wielded a roll of gauze, wrapping their legs, their arms, anything he could get his hands on. I scanned the fray, searching for Dante. The sight made my stomach sink. Undead crowded the mountainside, so many that I could barely pick out one from the next. They outnumbered us ten to one, their tiny bodies surrounding the elders, who struggled to stand amidst the swarm.
I ran toward them, thrusting the Undead aside and searching their faces for Dante’s, when a sunken face, so sallow that I could barely believe it once belonged to a child, appeared through the fog in front of me. He grabbed my shovel, pulling me to the ground. I couldn’t see what was happening; I could only feel the weight of his bony body on top of mine, an elbow in my ribs, a knee in my thigh, four nails scratching at my shoulder.
We wrestled in the snow, his fingers scratching at my throat. I kicked him off only to be pinned down by two more, their hands as cold as ice. They knelt over me and clawed at my cheeks. I thrashed, trying to wriggle free from their grip. Through their fingers, I saw an elder clutching his face, his cheek nothing more than a mess of pulp and blood. An Undead boy leaped onto the elder’s back, biting his neck, his shoulder. Beside him, another elder fell. The Undead boys swarmed him like insects, pushing each other aside to suck out his soul. They were overpowering us.
The Undead boys leaned over me, ready to press their mouths to mine. I felt the gravity of their lips pulling a thin cord of my breath toward them. My head grew faint. Then a voice bellowed through the wind: Clementine’s father, John LaGuerre. He bounded toward us holding a Spade and a torch, the rest of the Monitors from our camp trailing behind him.
The Undead’s grip on me loosened as they looked up. I flung them into the snow, watching as they flew across the ice and into the dark pit of the crevasse.
The junior Monitors rushed toward us in a force of fire and metal, pressing the Undead back with their torches. Clementine fought beside her father, her eyes wild and ruthless as she struck one Undead into the crevasse with her left hand, while warding off two others with a torch in her right. She thrust her shovel into the ice and, with both hands, plunged the torch into the chest of an Undead boy, her face devoid of any mercy. Black smoke coiled up around her. She stood, her chest heaving. After wiping the sweat from her brow, she continued into the fray.
On the periphery, I could just make out an Undead leaping toward me. Just before he made contact, a Monitor knocked him into the snow. I looked up, startled, to see my guard, Ms. Vine. Her mousy figure was far stronger than it looked as she swept him into the crevasse.
Thank you
, I mouthed. She nodded before ducking under a Spade and pressing forward.
Behind her, Theo shouted and sliced his Spade through a crowd of boys while Anya kneeled over one fallen Monitor, then the next, her tin open as she wiped their foreheads with a bit of cloth and dabbed ointment on their wounds.
A shiver ran through the air.
“Another throng of Undead, coming up on the rear!” my grandfather yelled. “Spread out!” he said. “Guard the back!”
As they grew closer, an icy thread uncoiled through the air and wrapped itself around my fingers like a hand grasping mine. It sent a prickle beneath my skin, so familiar that it made my chest swell.
Dante.
A cluster of dark figures emerged from the fog. I didn’t know whom he was with, though I was certain he was there. But before I could run toward him, a chill settled in over the mountains, colder than I had ever felt before. I spun around to see nine black dots move across the horizon, so quickly that they seemed to be carried on the wind. The Liberum. With them came a foul gust, so cold that it made the air around us grow brittle. One by one, the elders looked up. They felt the vacancy, too.
“The Liberum are coming!” my grandfather shouted, throwing an Undead into the crevasse. “Prepare yourselves.”
The nine Brothers swept toward us like a dark fog, their black cloaks dragging through the snow. I backed away and watched as the Monitors surrounded them, trying to ward them off with torches, but the Brothers moved smoothly, soundlessly, slipping just out of reach as if they were made of nothing more than robes.