Ash released her from his glare, but before he said anything more, the strange boy jerked hard to the right. The sudden movement pulled his hand free of Charlotte’s grasp.
Until that moment, the boy had been leaning close to Birch’s shoulder, examining Moses’s mechanical wing. Now he stood straight as an iron rod, gazing at Birch.
“Maker. Maker. Maker,” the boy said. His limbs began to shake violently.
“What the—” Jack leapt forward, drawing a knife from his boot and holding it low, putting himself between Charlotte and the now flailing boy.
“Maker! Maker! Maker!” the boy cried. His shouts bounced off the cavern ceiling and walls, filling the air with a haunting chorus of echoes: Maker! Maker! Maker!
“Rustbuckets. He’s having a fit.” Ash raised his cane. “Easy, Jack.”
“Grab him, or he’ll go right over the edge,” Birch warned, but Ash was already moving. While the boy’s arms lashed, Ash slipped his cane through the stranger’s belt and hauled him away from the precipice. With another deft movement, Ash freed his cane just before the boy flopped to the ground, lolling about with no control of his body’s violent movements..
With a horrible shudder, he gave a slow, whining cry and went still.
“Oh, Athene, he’s not dead, is he?” Charlotte’s hands went to her mouth.
Birch knelt beside the boy and laid his head on the prostrate figure’s chest. With a sigh, he said, “I don’t hear a heartbeat, but . . .”
The boy moaned. Birch frowned and sat up quickly.
Charlotte gulped air in relief. “What happened? Did Moses do something to scare him?”
“Why would anyone be frightened by Moses?” Birch asked. Hearing his name, the bat peered toward Charlotte, as if daring her to answer.
Charlotte ignored the question, knowing that pointing out to Birch that most people considered bats frightening little creatures would only provoke an endless debate with the tinker about fear and rationality.
Jack returned the knife to his boot.
“You’ve brought home a strange pet. I definitely prefer the bat,” he said to Charlotte, earning an elbow in the ribs. “Ouch!” Jack rubbed at his side. “Now you have to kiss me so my feelings aren’t hurt.”
“I meant to hurt your feelings,” Charlotte said.
“I guess that means I’ll have to kiss you myself so I feel better.”
Charlotte jumped out of his reach. “Don’t you dare.”
“Jack, get over here,” Ash said. He was leaning over the boy, who despite making a sound, still appeared to be unconscious. “Help Birch take him inside. Then get Meg. Between the two of them, maybe we can sort this one out.”
Birch grabbed the boy around his shoulders, while Jack grabbed his legs. His body swung limply between them as they carried him off the platform. Charlotte began to inch away from the basket.
“And you’re going where?” Ash blocked her path with his cane.
“With them,” she declared, hoping her confident tone would get her out of any punishment Ash had in mind.
“Not until we’ve had a chance to discuss your heroic exploits of the afternoon,” Ash said. “Come with me.”
Charlotte stood up tall until her brother turned away. Then her shoulders slumped and she reluctantly followed him into the Catacombs.
Table of Contents
ALSO BY ANDREA CREMER
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
EPIGRAPH
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
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