Neverseen (16 page)

“I don’t care about my mom—”

“Yes you do. As you should. And while I cannot base this on evidence, I wouldn’t count your mother out yet.”

Keefe snorted. “You say that like it’s a good thing. Yay—she’s alive so she can keep being evil!”

“Evil is better than dead, Mr. Sencen. Evil can change. Though neither is in your power.”

“
Nothing
’
s
in my power—that’s the problem.”

Mr. Forkle squeezed Keefe’s shoulder tighter. “You are very important to our organization. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t. I mean it”—he added when Keefe rolled his eyes—“You will play a crucial role when we rescue Prentice. And that is the mission that must remain our focus.”

“Whatever.” Keefe stood and stalked toward the boys’ house.

Sophie rose to follow, but Mr. Forkle stopped her. “Best to give him space. He’ll come back when he’s ready.”

Keefe didn’t come down to dinner. At breakfast the next morning he picked at his food and didn’t say much of anything. By the third day of one-word answers, Sophie was ready to stage an intervention.

But Fitz and Biana reminded her of how badly they’d handled themselves when Alden’s mind had broken.

“We were awful,” Biana mumbled. “Especially to you. And there was nothing anyone could say to make us act better. Alvar tried. Keefe even tried.”

“I’m still figuring out how to make it up to you,” Fitz added.

“No need,” Sophie promised.

Her heart made an extra leap when Fitz smiled and said, “I’ll keep trying anyway.”

“Ugh, Keefe needs to get better,” Dex mumbled. “I need someone to barf with me over Fitzphie.”

“My
point
,” Biana said as Dex made gagging sounds, “is that as long as Keefe knows we’re here, that’s really all we can do.”

Sophie knew Biana was right. That didn’t make waiting any easier. She found herself checking her window every night before bed, wishing she’d find Keefe standing at his.

On the fifth night, his curtains were at least open a crack, unleashing a shred of light. She decided to take the tiny opening.

She didn’t have any rocks to throw, so she settled for her shoes, picking the wobbliest, most uncomfortable-looking heels.

Nothing happened from the first
THUNK!
But the second
THUNK!
did its job.

“Are you throwing shoes at me?” Keefe asked, sliding open the window.

“Seemed like a good idea. Now I don’t have to wear them.”

He gave her a half smile, but it faded as he waved the air away from his face. “Wow, that is a
lot
of worry you’re hurling at me.”

“You kind of deserve it.”

Keefe mussed his still-unstyled hair.

“I’m guessing you don’t want to talk about it?” she asked.

“Not really.”

She dragged out her sigh. “Is there
anything
I can do?”

He started to shake his head, then stopped. “Actually . . . yeah.”

“What?” Sophie asked, leaning out her window.

She didn’t hear him the first time, and had to make him repeat.

“Promise me you won’t hate me,” he whispered.

“Why would I hate you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you’ll decide I wasn’t worth sacrificing your shoes.”

“Now,
that’s
never going to happen.” She’d hoped that might earn her a smile, but Keefe wouldn’t look at her. “I would never hate you, Keefe. Why would you even think that?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just feel like I don’t belong here anymore.”

“You
do
. But . . . I know how it feels to be the outsider. The one with the
past
. The one with the shaky future. But you know what I’ve realized—or what I’m trying to realize, at least?”

“Is this the part where you give me some speech about how it’s our choices that show us who we truly are?”

“Nah, that sounds like something an old guy would say.”

Finally, he gave her a real smile!

“What I’m trying to realize is that it’s okay to be different. If everyone were the same, we’d all make the same mistakes. Instead we all face our own things, and that’s not so bad because we have people who care about us to help us through. You have that, Keefe. We’re all here for you. No matter what. Okay?”

Several seconds crawled by before he nodded.

“You should go to bed,” Keefe said as a gust of wind made Sophie shiver in her furry pajamas.

The suggestion was tempting—Alluveterre was so much colder than Havenfield. But she was afraid the glints of progress she’d made would be snuffed out when she left Keefe alone.

“I’ve got a better idea,” she said, racing to her bed and grabbing Ella, her pillow, and the thickest quilt. She coiled the blanket around her and waddled back to the window like a fluffy burrito. “See? Window slumber party!”

Keefe laughed—
laughed
—and, after a slight hesitation, disappeared and returned with his own blanket and pillow.

The floor felt hard and cold. The problems ahead of them unimaginable.

But they weren’t alone.

And that made all the difference.

S
OPHIE WOKE WITH
the sunrise and found Keefe still asleep by his window, his cheek smashed against the glass.

She smiled at how peaceful he looked—no signs of any nightmares.

She smiled even wider when she noticed the tiny trail of drool near his lip.

“You slept on the floor?” Calla asked from the doorway.

Sophie clutched her chest to calm her startled heart. “It was for a good cause.”

She took one last look at sleeping Keefe before pulling her drapes closed. “How come you’re up so early?”

“I’m always awake at this hour. I take my ten minutes at
midday, under the warmth of the high-noon sun.”

Sophie couldn’t imagine living on so little sleep, but she was more worried about the way Calla was nervously twiddling her green thumbs.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

Calla’s wide gray eyes met hers. “I . . . need help from the moonlark. There’s something I need you to check for me—a whisper in the forest I do not understand.”

The words felt colder than the floor as Sophie fumbled to change into pants and a tunic. She was still struggling into her boots as she followed Calla to the waterfall common room.

“We should leave a note for the others so they do not wonder where you are,” Calla whispered, plucking a dry leaf from the carpet and carving a message with her thumbnail.

“Wait—are we leaving Alluveterre?” Sophie had assumed the forest Calla meant was the trees right outside.

Calla handed her the message she’d cut out in frilly lettering:

With Calla in Brackendale. Be home soon.

~Sophie & Biana

“Biana?” Sophie asked.

Calla pointed to the corner. “I assume you’re planning to join us?”

“I am,” Biana agreed, appearing in the shadows. “But how did you know I was there?”

“Gnomish eyes are not fooled by tricks of light,” Calla told her.

“Seriously?” Biana asked. “How did I not know that?”

“It’s not something we think to mention,” Calla said. “Elves have no reason to hide from us. Are we ready? The journey ahead is long.”

“Just let me grab my shoes,” Biana said, and Sophie was relieved to see her return from her bedroom in a pair of sturdy walking boots.

Calla placed the leaf note on a table and led them down the winding stairs. Biana used the walk to play “how many invisible fingers am I holding up?” and Calla passed every test with flying colors.

“Wow, I can’t believe you can see me,” Biana said, blinking in and out of sight. “Can you teach me how you do it, so I can try to find a way around it?”

“I suppose we can give it a try.” They’d reached the ground by then, and Calla dropped to her knees, pressing her palms against an exposed tree root.

She closed her eyes, singing a deep, slow song. The language sounded earthier than gnomish, and Calla seemed to sink straight into the soil. The roots started twisting and twirling and sweeping aside the soil, creating a narrow tunnel that stretched underground.

Biana looked at Sophie, her eyes pleading
you first
as Calla motioned for them to follow her into the earth.

Sophie had to duck her head as she plodded into the dark tunnel, her eyes barely registering Calla’s silhouette up ahead. Biana stayed close, keeping one hand on Sophie’s shoulder. After several minutes of stumbling in the dark, Calla told them to hold still.

“You need to be secured,” Calla said, coiling roots around their feet and waists. “The trees will carry us to Brackendale. All you must do is trust—and try not to scream.”

The
not screaming
part definitely wasn’t reassuring. Neither was the way Calla hummed to make the roots squeeze even tighter.

Sweat trickled down Sophie’s spine and she reached for Biana’s hand, glad Biana’s palm felt as clammy as hers.

“Where is Brackendale?” Biana whispered.

“The one place I should not take you. But I must. It’s in the Neutral Territories.”

Sophie couldn’t decide
which was scarier: knowing she was heading somewhere Councillor Oralie had specifically warned her to stay away from, or riding Nature’s Most Terrifying Tree Root Roller Coaster.

Calla sang as they traveled, and the lyrics seemed to spur the roots faster until they were tearing through the earth so fast Sophie could feel her cheeks ballooning out like a cartoon character. She did
not
want to know what things were getting stuck in her teeth. She also had no idea where they were going.
The tunnel was pitch black, and every few minutes they would stop and Calla would tangle new roots around them to change direction.

“Can you travel anywhere like this?” Sophie asked.

“Within limits. Deeper parts of the earth can only be reached by ancient root systems. And the ogres uprooted all the pathways into Ravagog—unless you believe the legends.”

Sophie wanted to ask what legends Calla meant, but she could feel the roots pulling them toward the surface.

“What are we supposed to do when we get to Brackendale?” she asked.

“You will be serving as my eyes and ears. A friend of mine used to live here, but I received word that she had fled. She said the forest felt too anxious, and I need you to find out what that means.”

“How can a forest be anxious?” Sophie asked—but Biana had a much better question.

“Does that mean you’re not coming with us?”

“I do not think it would be wise. The whispers in the roots feel like a warning. They sing of weakness, and darkness, and some sort of unnatural tampering.”

The lump in Sophie’s throat made it hard to whisper, “The plague.”

“It’s possible,” Calla agreed. “That’s why I need you. The plague only harms plant life, and plant-related things. You and Biana will be able to search the forest safely.”

Assuming there were no ogres running around infecting the trees. . . .

Biana must’ve shared Sophie’s worry because she leaned closer and whispered, “I’m guessing you aren’t carrying a melder?”

“I wish. But I have my Sucker Punch. And Dex’s panic switch. And I can inflict. And you can turn invisible.”

“I also brought you these.” Calla pressed a cool, smooth crystal into each of their palms. “They’ll leap you to a forest in the Forbidden Cities, should you need to make a quick getaway. I will find you there and return you to Alluveterre.”

Sophie squeezed the crystal, trying to convince herself it would be enough. All they’d need is a few seconds and a beam of light and they’d be far away from any danger—they could do this!

The pep talk didn’t ease her nerves nearly as much as she wanted. Especially when the roots screeched to a stop.

Calla hummed a new song and the soil parted above them, letting light stream into the tunnel, burning their eyes like laser beams.

“The roots say to follow the sun,” Calla whispered.

“And you don’t have any idea what we’re looking for?” Biana asked.

Calla shook her head. “But I suspect you’ll know it when you see it. I’ll leave the tunnel open so it’s easier to find when you return.”

Sophie nodded, tucking her crystal into her easiest to reach pocket. Biana did the same and latched onto Sophie’s hand with a death grip as they climbed the slippery soil wall and emerged into the forest.

The scene looked normal enough—mossy trees, overgrown paths, an abundance of green and brown. But something felt
wrong
.

Sophie tried to tell herself it was only her paranoia, but she still scooted closer to Biana as they shoved through the ferns and bushes.

“Bet you’re wishing you hadn’t gotten up to spy on me, huh?” Sophie whispered.

“Actually, I was already awake.” Biana twisted her hair into a fancy knot to keep it from blowing in the damp wind. “It’s hard sleeping in a strange bed.”

An earth-shaking
ROAR!
drowned out Sophie’s reply.

“What was that?” Sophie glanced over her shoulder, sure she’d spot some sort of hungry beast come to devour them.

Biana pointed to a high branch, where a black parrot-size bird watched over them with glittering dark eyes. “Don’t worry, it’s just a boobrie.”

“That’s seriously its name?”

“Yup. You should hear the jokes Fitz and Keefe make.”

The bird’s head was crowned with a yellow feather Mohawk, but its most distinct feature was its long, curled eyelashes. It looked like it should be doing a mascara commercial
as it batted its eyes and let out another
ROAR!

That was when Sophie realized what was wrong with the forest.

It didn’t rustle.

Or crackle.

Or make any of the sounds trees normally made.

Other than the roaring boobrie, the whole place seemed to be holding its breath.

“Come on,” Sophie said, checking the sky to make sure they were heading in the right direction. “We shouldn’t spend too much time here.”

They doubled their pace, chasing the sun as it curved across the horizon. Sophie tried to make a mental note of each place they rerouted around rocks or streams or overgrown patches, but she wished she had something to mark their trail.