Pillage

  “So, what’s in that direction?” I asked, pointing further back to where the trees began to reach higher up the mountain slope.

  I could see a dark stone wall rising above the ground and a large mass of gray mist hovering over it.

  “That’s not anything,” Milo said. “Just a wall.”

  “A wall?” I asked, feeling oddly curious.

  “Well, like a weird, square wall,” Milo said.

  “So, there’s something in the middle of it?”

  “I don’t know,” Milo admitted. “No one can get inside.”

  “Isn’t there a door?”

  “There’s like a blocked-in arch,” he said. “You can’t get in.”

  That sounded like a challenge.

  “I wanna see it,” I insisted.

  Milo shrugged and followed me as I stepped quickly through the foliage.

  “You’re going to be disappointed,” Milo warned. “My father even tried to find a way in. There’s nothing.”

  Now I knew I had to see the wall. I ran faster, climbing down another set of stairs and running across a wide stretch of land that had probably been an impressive lawn years ago. I jumped through a brick archway that was circling a section of the yard. The bricks at the back of the circle had crumbled, creating an exit.

  A gigantic deer bolted in front of me and darted off to the right. The surprise stopped me.

  “Did you see that?” I asked.

  “This forest is fat with game.”

  “You talk funny,” I said, not sure if Milo was trying to sound proper or like some sort of hip forest thug.

  “There are lots of things to shoot,” he clarified.

  I didn’t care at the moment. I ran some more, scaring three birds from bushes and into the air. I could see the stone wall now. It was much larger than it had looked from a distance. As I drew closer, I figured it was at least three stories high. The solid black stone was covered with pits and mold.

  I looked up at the wall with awe.

  Milo finally caught up.

  “See,” he panted spastically. “I told you, a wall.”

  I stepped along the wall, running my hand over its wet, moldy surface.

  “It looks hundreds of years old,” I said.

  “Could be,” Milo said. “There are all kinds of weird ruins all over this mountain.”

  We reached the corner of the wall where it turned at a ninety-degree angle and ran into the trees.

  “Come on,” I insisted.

  I ran along the side, looking for any sign of an opening or entrance. There was not so much as a knob or a crack anywhere. On the back wall, though, was a large archway that had been bricked in. Above the arch in raised black stone was the word Conservatory. The archway looked like it had been closed up many years ago. I pushed against the bricks. They felt more solid than the actual stone.

  The fourth side was nothing but black stone. Eventually we made it around the entire thing. The whole conservatory was crowned with thick strings of mist.

  “So, what is it?” I asked, out of breath and confused.

  “A wall,” Milo insisted.

  “It’s more than a wall,” I said. “The back says conservatory. And that bricked-in entrance is maddening.”

  “Maybe there’s a tunnel under one of the walls,” Milo said.

  “I looked for that. I couldn’t see anything.”

  “Maybe it’s just a monument or something,” Milo suggested.

  Both of us looked up at the towering blackness.

  “A monument to what?” I said.

  Another giant deer decided that right then was the best moment for it to jump from where it was hiding and scare the life out of me.

  “Stupid deer,” I said, embarrassed about being startled. “We need a ladder.”

  “I think they’re easier to shoot with a rifle.”

  “I’m not talking about the deer,” I said, hitting Milo on the back of his shoulder. “We need a ladder to look over the wall.”

  “Or a catapult,” Milo said seriously.

  “I think a ladder would work better.”

  “I guess, but I’ve never seen a ladder that tall.”

  “What about a tree?” I realized with excitement.

  I began to closely look at the surrounding trees. None of them had any low branches. In fact, they all were oddly branch-free with green needles only at the top. I ran around the corner and saw the same deformity on all the trees.

  “There’s something in there,” I whispered.

  I walked around the whole conservatory again, checking the walls more carefully. There was nothing but black stone and a bricked-in archway. I considered hiking the mountain behind the forest, but I could tell that it sloped too gradually for me to be able to get above the conservatory and peer in.

  “I’ve gotta get in,” I said. “There has to be—”

  My thoughts were interrupted by a heavy, gloved hand grabbing my right shoulder. I jumped much higher than when the deer had startled me. I tried to turn, but the hand held me tightly. Milo took off running.

  “What are you doing here?” the mouth, attached to the face that was attached to the body that was attached to the hand that held me, asked.

  “I was just walking around,” I said.

  The hand opened and I spun around. The man was older than most dads I had seen, but younger than any grandfathers. He was wearing a knit cap and pants that buttoned just below the knee. His eyes were hooded and dark and, like most of the people I had met at the mansion, it looked as if he hadn’t practiced his smile in some time. I recognized him from that morning when I had seen him talking to Thomas below my window. The dirt on his gloves and knees made me think he was most likely Scott, the gardener.

  “Just walking around?” he questioned suspiciously. “Didn’t Millie and her bunch tell you to stay away from the gardens?”

  I wanted to point out that I’d only met three people so far and that technically a bunch was more like six or seven.

  “Didn’t she?”

  I nodded guiltily. “I couldn’t tell where the front of the yard ended and the back began,” I tried, hoping he would just think I was lost.

  “See the back of the manor?” he said, spinning me around.

  It was far away, but I could definitely see that I was behind the house. The copper-roofed dome on top of the mansion stood out like a sore thumb.

  “Is that the house?” I said innocently, holding my hand above my eyes to see. “Wow. I didn’t know I had wandered so far. Well, I guess I’ll be on my way.”

  “No, you won’t. Come with me,” he barked.

  For about two seconds I thought about making a run for it, but his gloved hand pulling on my right ear was a powerful persuasion. He dragged me back through the overgrown garden. In between my yelping, I tried to explain to him that I could walk by myself.

  He wasn’t buying it. He pinched my ear even harder and picked up his pace.

  “Foolish kids,” he mumbled as he marched through the thorny weeds. “Don’t know where to stick your wet noses.”

  I touched my nose to see if it was wet.

  That only made him angrier. He yanked my ear and growled, pulling me up some hidden steps and through an arbor.

  “You’re going to pull my ear off!” I argued.

  “It’s not like you listen with it anyhow,” he threw back.

  He had a pretty good point, and one heck of a grip.

  We finally reached the mansion. He dragged me up the stairs, into the hallway, and then pushed me with his knee into the kitchen. Millie looked up in astonishment as I flew against her table and steadied myself. I rubbed my red ear and looked back at the gardener with daggers in my eyes.

  “What in the name of Peter is going on?” Millie asked, stepping around the table to see if I was okay. “Scott, you don’t go pushing children around.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Caught him in the back. Near the . . . at the far rear,” Scott said unap
ologetically. “Far rear.”

  Millie looked at me with bother in her eyes. “Is that true, Beck?”

  “I got lost,” I tried again. This time my excuse sounded even lamer.

  “He was there with that pesky kid,” Scott growled. “Staring at the black wall and up to no good, I imagine.”

  I decided to strike while I could. “What is that place?”

  Scott slammed his palm against the door frame. “You never seen a wall before?” he asked mockingly. “There are miles of earth out in front of the manor. Stay away from the back garden for your own safety. It’s dangerous out there.”

  “It didn’t look too dangerous,” I argued. “And what’s a conservatory?”

  It was the wrong thing to say. Even Millie looked angry at me.

  “I don’t care if you found slides and Ferris wheels,” she ordered. “You are instructed to stay away from the back gardens. And stay away from that Milo child while you’re at it.”

  I had never really cared for Ferris wheels, but it felt like an inappropriate time to confess that.

  Scott turned and stormed out triumphantly. Millie went back to kneading bread, but now she looked more wounded than bothered.

  “Sorry, Millie,” I said. “Really, I was just walking around.”

  “I’ll bring your supper up in a bit,” was her only reply.

  I made my way upstairs thinking only of the conservatory and how I could possibly get over the wall. There was no way my personality or mind could simply forget about it.

  I wanted in.

  Chapter 8

  I Started Something

  Dinner was fantastic. I had never before licked my plate clean—twice. Wane still hadn’t brought me a TV but she did bring me a dictionary. I was surprised to see just how many words I had been previously unaware of. After looking at the dictionary, I spent some time reading and trying to understand my mother’s journal. I counted the number of times she mentioned me directly (twenty-seven) and the number of times she mentioned my father (zero).

  Wane had also been kind enough to bring me a picture of my uncle. She knew I was anxious to meet him and thought a picture of him would help prepare me. I held the picture next to the one I had of my mother. There was no question they were related. They both had the same nose, freckles under their eyes, and a milder version of my smile.

  I set the pictures down and sprawled out on my bed. The house whistled and purred as the evening winds snaked through the walls. I was happy I had survived my first day at school, but there was another one coming tomorrow. My mind kept replaying the moment Wyatt and his friends had been lifted up by the ivy. It made so little sense that after a few minutes of thinking about it, I almost convinced myself that it had never actually happened.

  “I must have seen things wrong,” I reasoned.

  But then I remembered the shrub I had seen change last night and the walled section of the garden behind the manor.

  I fell asleep thinking that perhaps everything I had experienced was just a dream and that in a few minutes I would wake up, tell my mother about it and that would be that.

  Four hours later I woke to the sound of wind pounding against my window. Someone had turned off my light. I figured Millie or Wane had come by to collect my dishes and found me sleeping.

  I stood up and the wood floor moaned like a sick cow. I reached for the light switch, but when I flipped it, nothing happened.

  The wind was relentless. The door to my bedroom popped open and a steady stream of air slipped through. I looked into the hall and saw nothing but darkness. I was ready to close my door and pretend everything was going to be okay, when I saw a small hint of light coming from where the stairs were.

  “Wane?” I whispered. “Millie?”

  Unless one of them spoke wind, they didn’t reply.

  “Thomas?”

  I walked down the hall to where the stairs began their descent. The little bit of light was almost unnoticeable. I thought maybe I had been seeing things in the dark, but then, at the bottom of the stairs, a dull flash of light flickered.

  “Hello?” I called down.

  I took the stairs carefully, wishing I had a stick or something to defend myself with.

  “Who’s there?”

  It was pitch black at the bottom of the stairs with no sign of the strange light. I could feel streams of wind blowing around my ankles and past the top of my head. At the far end of the main floor’s long hall a pinpoint of weak light glimmered, dancing and winking in the darkness. I was no scientist, but even I knew light wasn’t supposed to disappear and then reappear further away.

  There was an uneasy chattering in the air—like the wind was trying to warn me of something. As usual I ignored any voice of reason and kept my eyes on the light.

  I followed the miniscule trace of light to the first floor. I was in the hall leading to the kitchens. I suspected that Millie and Wane were in bed. Thomas, on the other hand, made it clear he was sleeping by snoring loud enough that I could hear it.

  Though I had been on this floor more than any other, I still had probably only explored a fourth of it. I walked away from the staff’s quarters to the other half of the manor. The wind pulsated more than it blew. I could feel the pressure of the windows flexing in and out. My heart raised a notch in my throat with each step I took. The wind’s pulsation beat thoughts into my head. I could remember every horror movie I had ever seen. I felt like the wide assortment of villains in those movies were now hiding somewhere on this floor, waiting to attack me.

  “I’m living this,” I whispered to myself, still not completely believing my life at the moment. “Mom, if there’s danger down here, let me know.”

  I figured she hadn’t given me much advice while she was alive but maybe in death, with a little more insight and time, she might reach out and steer me the right way.

  That didn’t appear to be the case.

  I could hear the wind chattering in the darkness, and like the sort of idiot I would have scolded for going down a dark hall, I walked right down the dark hall. I would have kept walking if it had not been for a wall stopping my progress. I ran right into it, hitting my nose hard enough for me to swear.

  “Sorry, Mom,” I said, just in case she was listening.

  I felt along the wall, looking for another direction to walk. There wasn’t any. I had walked into a dead end where there was a door with a locked handle. A faint light slipped out from under the door and briefly danced across my toes.

  Every hair on my neck stood up and then wilted. I put my ear to the door, hoping to hear someone or something moving around on the other side. I could only hear the wind muttering and moaning. I rattled the locked knob, trying to pop the door open.

  It was no use. I let go of the knob and watched the light along the bottom of the door fade to black. I would have just turned around, adding tonight’s mystery to the growing list of oddities Kingsplot was providing, but then I heard something fiddling with the lock on the other side of the door.

  I stepped back, the unexpected sound so surprising and unsettling I could barely keep my knees working. It sounded like tiny hands nervously rattling the lock as the wind continued to mutter. There was a soft, crisp click and then nothing.

  Everything in me was telling me to just walk away. Well, not everything, because despite the signals my brain was sending to my feet to move away, the signal my hands were receiving was stronger. I could feel my fingers groping for the doorknob.

  I turned the handle again and this time the door pushed open. I tried to control my breathing, but my throat began doing weird things with the air it was taking in. I couldn’t hear anything but my breath.

  I gently pushed the door and it swung open all the way. The hinges squeaked lightly as the door came to rest against the wall.

  I couldn’t see anything.

  “Who’s there?” I asked.

  My breathing was so loud. I felt certain everyone within a ten-mile radius could hear me.


  “Someone’s there. I heard you,” I whispered.

  The thin line of light shimmered from under the baseboard on the far wall. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t turn back. I walked across the room.

  The light was coming from somewhere behind the wall. I kicked at the baseboard and felt my toes push into a soft spot on the wall. Surprised, I pulled my foot away and saw I’d created a small hole. I kicked again, creating a slightly bigger hole. Light as dull as wet newspaper dripped out slowly. I dropped to my knees and then down on my stomach so I could peer through the hole.

  A large earthen tunnel sloped downward. At the bottom of the dirt tunnel there was a bend. Whatever was causing the light was around that turn.

  I lay on the floor, gazing into the dimly lit hole. I stuck my fingers in and pulled at the wall. The opening tore easily, creating a tear twice the size of the original hole.

  The tunnel was larger than I’d thought.

  I was about to tear the hole wide open, when I saw a shadow moving far down in the hole, blocking the light.

  I pushed onto my elbows and then my knees in one frantic jump. As I got to my feet, the wind began to chatter even stronger. It was so dark and, even though the night was cool, I felt sweat gathering all over my body.

  I ran back across the room. I could barely see the outline of the room’s door. There was a key lodged in the keyhole on the inside. I grabbed it and locked the door behind me as quickly as I could.

  I stood with my back against the closed door, trying to catch my breath. I heard someone twisting the knob again and decided I had rested long enough. I ran down the hall and back up the stairs to the main floor.

  It was dark, but my fear gave me a keen sense of direction. I found the stairs leading to the third floor and sprinted to my room, certain that someone or something was right behind me.

  I slammed my door shut and reached for the light switch. The electricity was working again. I turned the latch, bolting the door closed, and looked around the room to make sure I really was alone.

  It was just me and the jittery wind.

  I double checked the lock on my door and then circled my bedroom, kicking at the baseboards to make sure I didn’t have any weak walls. Everything was solid. I couldn’t decide if I should scream or curl up in a ball and cry.