Nightfall (15 page)

“What took you so long?” asked Kana. “We were getting worried.” He and Line were sitting comfortably on the couch in the mayor's quarters. After Marin's cold, wind-blown walk to town and the cliffs, the closed quarters of the candlelit room were a shock.

“How about
thank you
?” Marin replied, dumping the sodden carrots and apples onto the floor.

“What happened?” asked Line, pulling himself upright on the couch. He was staring at her damp, blood-smeared pants. “Is that blood on your pants?”

Marin followed his gaze. Her pants looked horrific, a mix of mud and blood. “Don't worry—it's not my blood.”

“Then whose?” asked Line. He stared at Marin, mouth half open.

Marin glanced at Kana. “It came from a dog that Kana untied yesterday,” she explained. Marin quickly recounted what she had seen at the one-room house, including the crossed-out hash mark on the door.

“So whatever marked our door was trying to kill us—just like the dog,” said Kana. “Is that what you're saying?”

“Maybe,” she replied. “Can you think of another explanation?”

“No,” said Kana with a furrowed brow. “Not really.” He was about to say something else, but stopped and looked curiously at Marin's clothes. “Where did you get that scarf? And the sweater?” He paused, and his eyes widened with surprise. “You went all the way to the loading area? For clothes?”

“I was freezing,” said Marin in a low voice. She was conscious of Line staring at her as well. “I was cold, okay?”

Kana didn't immediately respond, and Marin tried to divert the conversation. “You're only wearing a shirt and pants. Aren't
you
cold?”

He looked down at his clothes, as if considering them for the first time. “No . . . I mean, I don't know . . . I guess not.”

Marin looked at Line. “And you?”

“I'm fine,” he said. “I grabbed another sweater—it'll be enough for now. Unless it gets much colder.”

Marin nodded and sat down next to the food on the floor. She grabbed the slimy end of a carrot, wiped it on her pants, and bit in. It was disgusting, but she forced herself to chew. When she looked up, she realized that Line and Kana hadn't moved.

“Join me,” she said. “It's edible, I think.”

Kana declined, saying his stomach was upset. Line sat down next to her, wincing as he did so. She asked about his arm.

“Not bad,” came Line's response. “It hurts, but I think it's because the swelling has gone down—that ointment really works.”

“Do you think—”

Line interrupted her. “I'll be ready to go,” he said. “I'll be fine, just let me eat for a second.” Soon, he had a mouthful of carrots.

Marin decided to stop talking—Kana and Line were not in the mood and it was probably better to focus on the tasks at hand. She began sorting through the apples while Kana slid the dresser and a bureau firmly against the door. Kana then returned to the couch and watched Line and Marin eat in silence.

Eventually, Line looked up at Kana. “You didn't tell her the good news yet.”

“You're right,” replied Kana. “I smelled wood smoke on my way back from the mayor's house.”

Marin considered this. “What do you think it means?”

“Well, it could mean that someone's using one of the town's fireplaces,” Kana replied. “Which means someone else was left behind—just like us. It sounds crazy, but—”

“Tell her where you think the smoke was coming from,” said Line.

“The hermit's shack,” said Kana.

Marin thought back to when they passed the hermit's shack on the way to find Line. She hadn't smelled anything, and the shack seemed empty.

“Strange,” she said. “But if the hermit is around, that
is
good news. I mean, it's not good for the hermit—obviously—but it's good for us. It would mean I'm wrong about the hash marks and, you know, about the houses being systematically cleared out. We should take a look at his place on our way out of town.”

“Did you see anything else in town?” Line said, smiling at her. “Besides the dead dog, I mean.”

Marin frowned. “You don't have to be so callous about it.”

“I'm not being callous,” Line replied. He looked down at the half-eaten apple in his hand. “I'm just stating a fact—the dog was dead, wasn't it?”

Kana leaned forward from his perch on the couch. “Marin—what else did you see?”

Marin told them everything, including her theory about the small divots being claw marks.

“I've seen those divots before,” said Line. “They're all over the place. I figured it was just a stylistic thing—you know, like all the curlicues and squiggly lines carved into wood panels and trusses on all the houses.”

“Those would have to be very sharp claws,” Kana remarked.

Line stood up with a sudden burst of energy and addressed Kana. “I'll say this much—if any of those creatures come after us, we've got sharp claws, too.” He reached under the couch and picked up a long knife, its blade gleaming in the flickering light of the candles. Marin recognized it as one of the knives from the mantelpiece downstairs. “I took one for each of us,” said Line. “They're very pirate-like—wouldn't you agree?”

Marin smiled uneasily as Line brandished the knife.

“Don't I look rather dashing?” he asked. He posed dramatically, using his good arm to swish the knife through the air like a storybook pirate.

“Yes, you are terrifying,” said Marin. “Now put that down. It's too sharp to play with.”

“Aye, me lovely, I fancy some leg of beast for dinner!” said Line in a pirate's brogue. “I'll eat the meat off the bone with the claws I cut from the Night demons!”

Line pranced around the room with the knife, carrying on with his brogue. He ran to Kana and fake-attacked him.

“Line!” called Marin. “Put the knife down, before you impale my brother.”

Line paused and lowered the knife. He nodded, then sank down next to Kana as if suddenly exhausted. He turned to face him. “Here,” he said, “this can be yours.”

Kana took the knife Line had given him and turned it, watching it glint in the light of a weak candle. “No, thanks,” he said. “I've never been good with knives. I'd probably just cut myself.”

Marin rolled her eyes and smiled.

“As you wish,” said Line. He slid the knife back under the couch, then looked around uncertainly. Marin tried to change the subject. She went to the map that Kana had retrieved from Shadow House. Kana had set it down on a small desk near the couches where they'd slept. Marin bent over and studied it.

“Isn't there a path through the woods that leads to the Coil?” she called out.

Line walked over to join her. “Let me see.”

Marin beckoned to Kana as well. “Come have a look with us.”

The three of them studied the map. Kana pointed to the shoreline. “The tide has already rolled out at least a mile,” he said. “So we could just walk out along the seabed, past the
Dwarf Oak Islands, around Shiprock Point, into Southerly Bay, and then up the river.”

“But Marin is right,” said Line. “There's also a path across the woods.”

Kana was confused. “Where?”

“Here,” said Line. He picked up a candle and used the hot red wax dripping from it to mark a line on the map that cut across a narrow swath of forest. “I'm not exactly sure where it goes, but I know where it starts. The okrana use it when they travel into the mountains for their solstice hunt. It starts by the cemetery. Just past that is the stone arch. The trail goes under the arch, cuts through the woods, and should go right over to the river—just upstream from the fishing depot. It's about a tenth of the distance.” He looked at Marin and Kana. “But honestly, I'd rather
not
go back in the woods. I'd prefer walking along the seabed, even with my sore ankle.”

Kana nodded in vigorous agreement. “You're right,” he said. “We should avoid the woods.”

The three of them studied the map again. Marin traced a line from Bliss to Shiprock Point, and then along the coast to the mouth of the Coil. “All right,” she said. “So we walk across the seabed to the fishing depot.” She stood up straight and glanced around the room. They had a plan. She put her hand on Kana's shoulder. “Are we agreed?”

Kana kept staring at the map. “I think so—it seems like the best option.”

“When should we leave?” asked Line. “I'm ready whenever. Now?”

“Soon,” replied Marin. “We need to make something to help support your ankle, and maybe Kana can look around for more food.” She paused. “Line—are you sure you don't want more clothes?”

Line shook his head. “I'm fine with what I have, but I'll see if I can find a hat.” He exhaled with relief and rubbed his hands through his hair. It was good to have a plan. Of course, so much could go wrong, but to know what would happen next, to regain some measure of control over their fate . . . It provided hope for the first time since they were left behind.

It ended up taking several hours for Marin and Kana to find the materials necessary to fashion a proper brace, build it, and then affix it to Line's ankle. They used wooden slats from a chair, wire from a whisk that Marin found in the kitchen, and padding from several of the mayor's pillows. But once completed, the project appeared well worth it. Line was much more comfortable now. While he was looking for materials, Kana ransacked the mayor's house but was unable to find a single additional morsel of food.

“We should go,” said Line. “There's no point in sticking around here. And I'm sick of waiting.”

Marin looked at the clock on the wall, which she had wound several hours ago. It was a few minutes past eight—nearly dinnertime. More important, it was a reminder that they'd been awake for ages.

She looked at Line. “How much have you slept here?”

He thought about this for a moment. “I don't know—a few hours.”

“And before that?”

“Before that . . . I don't know . . .”

“And you were up for at least twenty-four hours in that hole,” said Marin with a shake of her head. “Kana and I haven't slept much, either. It's freezing outside and we probably won't be able to stop until we reach the fishing depot. It's going to be a nasty, cold slog. And then we'll be in a small boat on the open sea.” She paused for a moment to let it all sink in. “I want to leave, too, but I think it's smarter to rest here for a few more hours.”

“What about the thing?” asked Kana. “We're just going to wait here for it to come back? Maybe we should go to another house. Maybe our house, or Line's.” However, as soon as he said this, he realized he had no interest in going back to his house.

Marin looked at Line. “What do you think?”

Line nodded at the door. “That's the heaviest door I've seen in town,” he said. “I don't think going somewhere else would give us
more
protection.”

“And the signal lamp?” asked Kana.

“I'll turn it off,” said Marin with a heavy sigh. “It's only going to attract attention.”

“You understand what this means, right?” asked Kana. “If we turn it off, we have to be clear about what we're saying.
No one will rescue us.
We do it ourselves. Together.”

For a moment, Marin was slightly short of breath. She felt as if she were standing at the edge of an endless chasm, teetering, about to fall.

“We can do it,” she whispered.

The room was silent. She stared at Kana, then at Line. They nodded.

“All right,” she said, more to herself than to anybody else.

Marin turned and left the room, knowing that both of them were staring after her. She walked through the darkened house, entered the closet in the pantry, ascended the stairs, climbed the long inset ladder past the mysterious, heavy boxes, and emerged onto the widow's walk. She placed her hand on the top of the signal light. It was warm. She looked out at the narrow, triangular swath of light that the lamp was casting over Bliss. Somehow turning the light off felt like an act of surrender. She took several deep breaths.
It makes sense,
she told herself.
You're doing this to protect the last three people on this island. Do it.
Marin stretched out her arm and turned the knob. The town fell into darkness.

By the time she returned to the mayor's quarters, Line and Kana had moved the two main couches so that they faced each other, creating a space large enough for the three of them to sleep. There was a nest of sheets, a few blankets, and some towels to cover themselves with. They were already lying down, but when she crept into the room, they stood up without a word and all three pushed a massive armoire in front of the door, along with the dresser and bureau.

Marin was the last of the three to get back under the blanket. The open space was next to Line. She blew out the one candle that was still lit, huddled against the length of Line's body, and tried to relax. Line turned on his back and slowly took her hand in his. He turned to look at her. They were very close, so close that Marin could feel his breath on her cheeks.

“Thank you for rescuing me,” he whispered.

“I haven't yet,” she whispered back.

Marin slid her free hand into her coat pocket, feeling for the velvet bag that she'd retrieved from her luggage. She then wiggled her fingers into the bag itself, feeling the long silver chain and the clunky sunstone. Merely touching the necklace filled her with guilt and no small amount of self-loathing. This was the reason that they'd been left behind. And she'd had it all along.

Months ago, when she'd returned from the woods—after her failed adventure with Line and Kana—she'd looked inside the leather satchel and hadn't found it. Marin had been furious with Line for leaving it by the edge of the pond. Then, a few days later, she picked up the satchel again and realized it was too heavy to be empty. The necklace was hidden within a tear on the inside seam of the bag.

Marin was both relieved and horrified. She'd intended to tell Line right away, she really had, but the right moment had never come. And after a while, it became too awkward to admit what happened. Then Line had gone looking for it, which was incredibly stupid, but the truth was that it was all
her
fault. She had been too embarrassed to tell Line that she'd found the necklace. It was her own stubborn pride that brought them here, and now their lives were in jeopardy.

Marin would have to tell them at some point, that much was clear, but perhaps it made the most sense to wait until they'd found the spare boat at the fishing depot and were making their escape along the river. At such a time, they'd be so glad to have the sunstone that they might forgive her. That was her hope. In any case, it would do no good to tell them now. Everybody was tense enough as it was. Marin kept rubbing the sunstone with
her fingers, as if this would wipe the problem away. Finally a heavy drowsiness came over her and she fell into a deep sleep.

Sometime much later, Marin woke to a piercing sound. She thought then of the knives below, and of the sharpeners. Marin cursed.
The knives. We should have taken all of them out of the mantel.

Slow, heavy footsteps came up the stairs. They sounded much louder than last time.

“It's back!” she shouted. She didn't dare voice her other thought—it sounded like there were more than just one.

In a heartbeat, Marin, Line, and Kana were on their feet. Together they braced themselves against the armoire and dressers that barricaded the entranceway. Then the pounding began—huge, powerful blows. WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! There was no doubt about it. There were several bodies trying to force their way in. If it weren't for the barricade, the door would have blown open. Still, the furniture shuddered ominously. The ferocity of the blows was unmistakable—the
things
on the other side of the door were determined to get in this time.

“Hold!” screamed Line, who was pushing madly against the armoire. “HOLD!”

They all focused their efforts on the massive armoire. If it slid away, the dressers behind it wouldn't be strong enough to keep the door closed. They lined up against the armoire, dug their heels into the ground, and pushed with all the ferocity of those whose lives hung in the balance. The armoire slid forward an inch, and then backward an inch, again and again.

The hinge that fastened the top of the door to the wall
started coming loose. The screws were being yanked out—it wouldn't be long before the top of the door separated from the wall entirely. But there was nothing they could do about it.

The battering at the door continued for several minutes until, suddenly, Kana slipped at the same time that the door bulged inward from a series of ferocious blows. The force of this new attack jettisoned Kana backward. He sprawled across the floor and the armoire slid forward several inches. The door creaked open. Marin screamed. Grunting erupted from the hallway, and the door was under such pressure that it seemed to bend. Kana threw himself against the armoire with tremendous force. His effort seemed almost superhuman and, amazingly, the armoire slid forward by a half a foot and—once again—the door to the room closed.

Shortly after this, the battering stopped. One of the creatures bellowed and they heard a splintering, cracking sound. Marin's heart sank. It was over. The door was breaking.

“It's just a knife—the door is holding,” gasped Kana, seemingly reading her thoughts. Then came the sound of squeaking floorboards as the
things
made their way back down the stairs. Then silence. A long, eerie silence. A minute passed. Then another. Kana, Line, and Marin slumped to the floor, out of breath. More time passed. Finally, they rose to their feet and began to clear the barricade. When the furniture was moved away, they stood at the door and listened.

Silence.

Line tensed and put his hand on the doorknob. “Ready?” he whispered.

“Do it,” replied Marin.

Line opened the door in a fluid motion. Kana, out first, confirmed that the hallway was empty. He looked at the door. It was cracked in several places. Directly above each of the three hash marks was a knife stuck into the wood. Line reached up and tried to extract one of the daggers. It wouldn't budge.

Marin stood at the top of the stairs and listened. Kana joined her.

“They're gone,” Kana said. “Or at least they're not in the house anymore.”

“They'll be back,” said Marin. She looked around, taking in the pervasive gloom, polished banisters, walls, floors, and ceiling. A feeling of clarity descended upon her. “Don't you see? They built this house.” Then she extended both arms and gestured all around. “They built
all
of this.”

“She's right,” said Kana softly.

“Do you think the mayor knew?” asked Line, eyes trained on the floor.

“Doesn't matter at this point,” said Marin. She reached down and began to tighten the laces on her boots. “What matters is, this town is
theirs
—and they want it back.”