Pillage

  Thomas exited the room, locking the door behind him. I didn’t know what to think or how to feel. But I did know

  I needed to talk to Kate and Milo. I needed help. I had never wanted a phone so desperately in my life.

  I remembered seeing a few phone numbers sketched in the back of my mother’s journal. I pulled the journal out of my dresser and flipped it open to the back. There were five phone numbers: one was the pharmacy, one was Pizza Hut, one had no name next to it, and the fourth and fifth belonged to my mother’s lawyer, Mr. Claire—four was his office and five was his home. I stared hard at the last two numbers, memorizing the digits.

  I put the journal back in my dresser and walked to the window. The boards were well secured. I grabbed the top one and set my feet against the wall, using all my weight to pull the board loose.

  It didn’t budge.

  I let go and dropped my feet to the floor. I walked around the room, searching for a way out, even though I knew perfectly well I was trapped. I tried the door. I tugged at the boards on the window again. I pulled my dresser from the wall, hoping there might be a secret exit behind it.

  There was nothing but wall.

  I moved my bed, but like the dresser, it wasn’t hiding anything surprising. I climbed onto the dresser and unlatched a metal vent on the ceiling. I was more than willing to climb through it, but the opening was at least a foot too small for me to fit through.

  “Ahhhh!” I screamed in frustration.

  I pushed the dresser and my bed back against the wall. As the bed shifted, The Grim Knot slipped out from between the mattresses.

  I was grateful Thomas hadn’t found it and taken it away.

  I picked up the book and sat down on the chair in the corner. I switched on the lamp that sat on the small end table and opened the book.

  “There was a time when every Pillage had his eyes to the soil instead of the sky . . .”

  The first line was much more interesting than I had anticipated. I looked at the little book, flipping it over in my hands. It reminded me of a small door. The thought of it being my only way out of the room struck me like a lightning bolt. I read on, stopping only when Thomas brought me a bland lunch. By that point I was on my second read and already devising a plan to set things right.

  I couldn’t believe how I had been fooled, and by whom.

  Chapter 19

  Barbarism Begins

  I had only heard the word genealogy twice in my life—maybe a few more if you count movies. Who knows what half the people are saying in movies? I had to look the word up in my dictionary.

  The Grim Knot was full of genealogy, beginning with my great-great-great-very ancient-super old-grandfather, Hermitage Pillage. Apparently he was poor but happy and could really grow things. His son, Edward Pillage, was born in 1790 and he was cruel and really messed up the family.

  I could see through the small cracks in the boards that the sun was finally down. I still was locked in the room, but I felt smarter for having read a little in my book.

  Thomas brought me dinner. He stood inside the room watching me eat as if I might have been able to use the dry bread and mushy potatoes to make a break for it.

  After I finished my meal, he let me use the bathroom and wash up. While in the bathroom I searched for a way out, but there were no windows and none of the drains were large enough for me to slip through.

  I came out of the bathroom no freer than I had been before I went in. Thomas was in the hall, blocking the way. I knew if I were to pile drive him I could probably take him out and get away. But, despite all the bad things I had done in my life, I just didn’t have it in me to knock over an old man.

  Not yet at least.

  As I crossed the hall, I tried to reason with him.

  “Maybe I can help,” I suggested. “How do you know I don’t want exactly what you do?”

  “We can’t take that chance,” Thomas insisted. “In time there may be a spot for you.”

  I walked into my room and Thomas locked the door behind me. I had never really been a prisoner before. It felt awful, but it also gave me a sense of purpose.

  My goal was clear—get out.

  I liked having a goal to focus my mental energy. It was hard to think about my mother dying, or dragons, or worrying over unknown noises, when I was so centered on getting free.

  I spent a few minutes trying to pull up any of the floorboards. I finally got one loose, but I could see the surface beneath it was too hard to work through. I went through my backpack, looking for anything I could use, and found a screwdriver at the bottom of the pack. I walked to the door and shoved the flathead screwdriver into the lock as far as possible. I twisted it in the metal dragon’s mouth but nothing broke loose inside.

  Frustrated, I leaned against the door with my eyes closed, cursing. After using a few words that my mother wouldn’t have been proud of, I opened my eyes and noticed the large, brass hinges on the door. I grabbed the top one, wiggling to see how solid it was.

  It didn’t wiggle at all.

  The top of the hinge pin was a small, metal gargoyle head and on the bottom of the hinge pin were tiny claws. All three hinges on the door were identical. I jammed the screwdriver into the hinge, trying to pop it open.

  Nothing.

  I held the screwdriver by the flat end and beat the hinge with the handle. Not only did it not do anything, but the noise was so loud I was certain Thomas would come up to investigate.

  I waited a few minutes, listening for his footsteps in the hallway. Silence. I slipped the screwdriver’s tip against the door with the length of metal resting at the bottom of the hinge pin, right behind the tiny claws. With the leverage that gave me, I pulled the angled screwdriver toward me.

  A satisfying snap rang through the room as the tiny claws went flying into the far wall.

  I took the screwdriver and placed the tip under the bottom of the broken pin. With a little effort, I was able to push the pin up and out. The top hinge was open. The middle hinge was more stubborn, and the bottom one was the easiest of all. I slid all three broken rods back in place and sat on my bed, waiting for the house to be quiet and still. I needed to wait at least until Thomas and Wane and Millie were sleeping.

  I picked up The Grim Knot and read some more. When I finally set the book down, I had no idea what time it was. It felt like I had been waiting and reading for days. I couldn’t wait any longer, so I pulled the pins out and tried to pull the door out of the jamb.

  Apparently back when the manor was built, they made doors out of lead. It was so heavy that I was afraid it was going to fall in and topple me. I stuck the screwdriver into the jamb next to the middle hinge and wedged that side of the door out.

  The door hesitantly slid off its hinges and made a soft but solid thunk as it came to rest on the floor. I worked my fingers around the hinge side and pulled inward. The door snapped out of the lock and started to lean toward me. I braced my arms, but it was too heavy. The door came tumbling down. I fell to the ground at the foot of my bed. The top of the door caught the edge of the bed, preventing me from being smashed.

  I crawled out from under the door and looked into the dark hall. The hall was empty. I was honestly surprised to not see Thomas and Wane standing there looking disappointed.

  I threw the screwdriver into my backpack as well as most of my other personal items. I pulled The Grim Knot out from under my mattress and flung my backpack over my shoulder. I was not planning on coming back. Leaving my suitcase and most of my clothes behind, I took off down the hall.

  I had been so nervous about getting out of my room that I had not noticed how windy it was inside the manor. The hall was flowing like a stream with thick currents of wind. I made my way down to the first floor and snuck into the kitchen.

  The clock on the wall said 12:29. I had been more patient than I’d thought. I grabbed the phone and dialed Mr. Claude’s home number. It rang seven times before a very tired-sounding voice came on the line.

  ?
??Hello.”

  “Mr. Claude,” I said.

  “Who is this?” he asked groggily.

  “It’s Beck. Beck Phillips.”

  There was a long pause. “Beck, do you know what time it is?”

  I resisted the urge to be sarcastic. “I’m in trouble,” I said. “They’ve locked me up.”

  “What?” he said, flustered. “You must be mistaken.”

  I couldn’t resist this time. “Right,” I said. “They’re probably just playing a really competitive game of hide-and-seek.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Mr. Claude admitted, his voice waking up. “They sent for you.”

  “Sent for me?” I whispered. “Didn’t you find them?”

  “Well, no. We were searching for any relative of yours and they called. It seemed fateful,” he said.

  “You don’t understand,” I argued, fighting to keep my voice down. “I’m in trouble.”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing like that,” Mr. Claude said. “They probably just have a different way of raising children than your mother did.”

  I don’t know how adults live with themselves.

  “This isn’t about raising children,” I said. “They are—”

  My conversation was cut short thanks to Thomas pressing the cradle on the phone. He was wearing old-fashioned pajamas and looked unhappy about losing any sleep.

  I threw the receiver at him and darted out of the kitchen. The door leading outside was unlocked and I burst through, stepping down onto the drive. Thomas was right behind me.

  “Scott!” Thomas yelled.

  I ran toward the front of the manor. I threaded through the statues and leapt onto the front lawn.

  Someone fired a shotgun into the air.

  My heart considered giving out, but I knew that if I fell down now they would catch me. I headed into the trees lining the side of the lawn and ran through the forest.

  A second gunshot fired, sounding muffled and far away. I didn’t let that slow me, however. I ran through the forest until

  I couldn’t breathe. I stopped to catch my breath before running again.

  Six breathing stops later, I was at the edge of a wide river and too tired to go on. I crawled underneath the thick branches of a pine tree and listened for the dogs.

  There were a number of things wrong with my life, as well as a long list of things I didn’t enjoy about Kingsplot, but at the moment what I most missed was sleep. I used to spend entire days sleeping while my mom was in one of her moods. Now, I hardly got in a few hours a night.

  I couldn’t hear the dogs. It was cold, but the extra clothes I had put on and the sweat I had worked up running were keeping me warm for the moment. I wanted to find Kate’s or Milo’s home, but I had no idea which direction to head. Mr. Claude had been useless, and I had nowhere to go.

  I leaned against the base of the trunk and tried to sleep, but I couldn’t.

  When it grew light enough to see, I crawled out of my hiding spot. The woods were alive with animals scurrying up trees and running across clearings. I saw four elk drinking from the river only a couple hundred feet away from me.

  I looked east where the sun was rising and then began to walk. After about a half an hour, I recognized how the mountains sloped into the valley and knew which direction the manor was. I skirted the side of the hill until I could see the far wall of the conservatory. I stopped and turned around slowly, watching the area for any signs of life.

  It was hard to believe there were dragons in the conservatory. It was so quiet. The mist above the walls held the sound in nicely.

  I hiked behind the conservatory to the bricked-in archway. There was no ivy climbing the walls. We had been using the shack entrance lately and I had not left ivy on the walls for fear of being caught.

  I looked at the ivy beneath the archway and it reluctantly began to grow. I thought about it even harder, but it still moved slowly.

  Halfway up the wall it stopped.

  “Come on,” I whispered. “Grow.”

  The ivy seemed bothered by me. It wouldn’t move at first, but eventually it pushed up into the mist. I was so focused on the ivy that I hadn’t noticed the spot of red sneaking across the garden and coming closer. At first I thought it might be a deer or another animal, but as soon as I could focus on it, I could tell it was Kate. Milo was trailing behind her.

  I didn’t know how to feel.

  I found a spot where I knew they would pass by. As they stepped close, I called their names and waved them over.

  Kate hugged me and kissed me on the cheek. It was almost worth being locked up for a reception like that.

  Kate and Milo carried small bundles of bound weeds with rocks anchored to them. They were on their way to feed the dragons.

  “We’ve been throwing things over the wall every few hours,” Kate said. “It’s almost impossible to heave them that high. It takes forever.”

  “We’re exhausted,” Milo added needlessly.

  “Thomas and Millie and Wane know about the dragons,” I said. “They brought me here specifically to grow them.”

  Milo looked confused.

  “Why’d they not let you in the back gardens then?” Kate asked.

  “Apparently they heard I was more likely to do something if I was told not to.”

  “You must be so proud,” Kate said. “You’ve created a nice reputation.”

  “So what now?” Milo asked.

  We sat under the bows of a huge tree and I took a few minutes to fill them in.

  Chapter 20

  Oscillate Madly

  I told Kate and Milo about what the book had taught me. I told them about my heritage and about Edward and about Bruno losing everything and being cursed by the peddler. I also brought them up to speed about what I learned about the dragons and the stones.

  “So your family raises dragons?” Kate asked.

  “They don’t so much raise dragons as use them to get money when needed,” I said. “And Pillage is my real last name. Bruno changed it to Phillips when he came to America. He never used the stones in America. By then he had so much money it wasn’t necessary.”

  “So these are the first dragons in America?” Kate asked.

  “I think so. I think Bruno’s son, Daniel, woke one of the stones and maybe my grandfather Morgan did too—that’s probably why there were only eight stones to begin with. The book isn’t exactly clear, but what I think happened was that when Morgan was about thirty, he started desiring the power and wealth the dragons could give him. He told his son, Aeron, what he planned to do, and Aeron begged him not to do it. After Morgan died, Aeron went mad. He bricked in the conservatory so the dragon stones could never be used again.”

  Kate and Milo stared at me.

  “Aeron was worried the dragons would ruin Kingsplot one day,” I said. “I think that was when my mother left. I’m not sure because the book doesn’t go that far.”

  “Your family’s horrible,” Kate said.

  “About every other generation,” I agreed. “Aeron is fighting to stop it. And my great-grandfather Taft was so committed to stopping the madness that he locked himself up in the cage below the conservatory.”

  “Taft was in that cage?” Milo asked, disgusted.

  “I guess so.”

  “Seriously,” Kate said. “Your family’s really horrible.”

  “Aeron’s willing to die to stop this,” I argued.

  “So what do we do now?” Kate asked.

  “We’ve got to keep the dragons from pillaging Kingsplot.”

  “How do you know that’s what they’ll do?” Kate said.

  “It’s what they do,” I said. “It’s the only thing they do. Thomas and Millie need the money to pay the taxes on this estate so they tricked me into waking the stones.”

  “How do we stop the dragons?” Milo questioned.

  “They won’t fly until I chop their nests to pieces. But first, there’s another thing I have to do before they can fly.”

>   “You’re kidding,” Milo said, almost nervously. “The book said that?”

  I looked at him queerly. “I didn’t see it at first, but there was small, hidden writing around the inside cover. It says some pretty interesting things in the fine print.”

  “So they won’t fly without you doing this additional thing?” Kate asked. “Then we’re okay, right? I mean, if they can’t fly, they can’t pillage.”

  “Not exactly,” I said. “If they are not allowed to fly, the dragons will turn on those who own them. They’ll destroy everything here, including anyone who tries to stop them.”

  “So we’re doomed,” Kate said.

  “There is a way to stop them,” I said. “There’s something hidden in the shack.”

  I stepped out from under the long, heavy bows of the tree and walked back up to the arched side of the conservatory. Kate and Milo were right behind me.

  “Don’t look at or talk to the beasts,” I said. “According to the book, they will become annoyed and could eat you just for fun. We’ve sort of been treating them all wrong.”

  “Are you sure we should go in?” Milo asked.

  “Stick with me.”

  I climbed the ivy and went up over the wall. Reading The Grim Knot had given me a weird sense of confidence. My family had controlled the dragons for hundreds of years and ruined many lives. Now, it was up to me to make things right.

  As I moved down the wall and below the mist I was so surprised to see how monstrous the dragons had become that I almost lost my grip on the ivy. All the dragons were resting on the ground, each near their nest. All of them except for Carpet and Jane; their spots were vacant and the plants they had once nested in were withered and brown.

  I dropped to the ground and looked out over the remaining six dragons. I could hear Kate and Milo land behind me.

  “There’s only six,” Kate pointed out needlessly. “Where’s Jane? And Carpet?”

  “Dead,” I said.

  “What?” Milo asked, almost angrily.