The Thief

“No,” she says flatly, as we enter the basement.

Every bit of the room is made of stone. The floor, the ceiling, the walls - even the inside of the door is lined with thick granite. In the center of the room stands a cage, about twenty feet square, also made of granite, with thick stone pillars in place of bars. Unless Meredith has super strength I don’t see a way she’s getting out of this.

“She doesn’t have super strength, does she?” I ask.

“Last I checked, no,” Bea says. “She may be indestructible, but she’s not Superman.”

Destin looks behind us nervously. “She doesn’t have any friends with super strength, I hope?”

“She doesn’t have any friends,” Bea says, holding the cage door open.

We lay the disheveled, leather-clad woman in the center and exit. I for one am glad to be able to take off the oven mitts. I’m sweating from prolonged nearness to her extreme body heat. Bea shuts the cage and twists the stone lock.

“Get upstairs,” Bea tells us. “She’s fixated on you, if she sees you it’ll only agitate her. I want to see how much she knows.”

Meredith stirs slightly, and that’s all the prompting I need. Destin and I hurry back up the stairs, joining Camille at the computer monitor in the tearoom. It shows a clear view of the cage, with sound. There must be a camera planted in a corner of the stone room. I sure hope Ms. Bea knows what she’s doing.

“Why didn’t you say you were the Wolf?” Destin asks Camille quietly.

“I didn’t know,” she replies, “until yesterday.”

My jaw drops. “Seriously? It was you the whole time?”

The Ender groans, and our attention is recaptured by the image of her pushing herself up on her hands unsteadily. “Ugh, I feel like I’ve been trampled by the post. McAbbey, have we got any more?”

If she didn’t remember anything, why was she calling my mom by that ridiculous nickname?

“I’m afraid you’re enjoying a different sort of hospitality now,” Bea says, entering the room but staying a healthy distance from the stone cage.

Meredith glances up at her blearily through her tangled hair. “Holy hell, you got old. Wait, who are you?” She coughs, sitting back against the granite bars. “Forget it, I don’t care. Just give me a minute and I’ll burn this place to the ground.” She coughs again. “Heh, she wasn’t kidding, that was the good stuff.”

“We’re underground with two stories above that,” Bea states. “Setting anything on fire would bury you under fifty feet of rubble, trapped in a stone cage.”

Meredith seems to notice the cage for the first time. “Stone? That’s clever. Have I terrorized you before? Wait, don’t answer that.”

“The first time you came to Havenwood was in nineteen - ”

“I SAID DON’T ANSWER THAT,” Meredith roars, throwing herself at the bars. Sparks spit around her.

Bea is stock still, watching her cautiously.

“It might take me awhile, but I can torch my way out of this,” she growls. “Everything burns eventually, even stone. Your fifty feet of rubble would be an inconvenience for me, nothing more. I am the definition of resilience. Look it up in the dictionary. Resilience. Noun. Meredith. When are you people going to learn that putting obstructions between me and you only hurts you?”

“Why are you here? There’s nothing to interest you in Havenwood.”

“You, grandma, are lying,” Meredith states. “The Wolf is here, I can feel it, it’s just so bloody foggy in your air. I have to find it and I have to destroy it. It’s my thing, it’s what I do. I’ll tell you the same thing I told the Hardy boys, the sooner you give it to me, the sooner I’ll get out of your hair. And you can go back to being old and boring and I can go back to the pub. Everyone wins.”

“And what if I keep you here forever?”

“I just told you...everything...melts,” Meredith says, smoke rising from her fingers around the bars.

“I’ve lost two to you,” Bea said. “I won’t lose another.” She turned her back on the cage and walked to the door.

“You think it’s cute now!” Meredith shouted after her. “In another couple of months it’s going to start murdering people and you will beg me to end it!”

“I don’t follow zealots,” Bea said. “Not anymore.” She punched the keypad and the heavy stone door sealed behind her. She came back up the stairs into the tearoom.

Destin, Camille, and I are waiting by the computer panel. She gives us a hard, considering look.

“You need to get to school,” she says.

“And just leave her here?” I say. The monitor already shows a firestorm brewing around Meredith, swirling around the cage’s stone bars, making them glow.

Bea follows my gaze. “Yes,” she says. “This is the most dangerous place to be right now. What we need is a Null. We need John Tailor.”

Chapter 18

Jul

Camille had said she’d be back - but it looked like whatever she’d forgotten was keeping her busy. Fidgeting with the arrangement of our experiment, I hoped she’d return soon. I didn’t know how much longer I could stand here alone. I hadn’t seen Mac or Destin either, and wondered what was keeping them. Though it was possible I’d just not managed to spot them yet. The gymnasium was packed to the brim with students and their families, grouped up around winding rows of folding tables draped with standard white cloth and each showing a science project in varying stages of assembly.

I stood back from the table to admire our handiwork. Mostly Camille’s, to be fair. The tri-fold display contained all the pertinent information about our invisible ink experiment - told as a bright, cheery comic. Camille had called the art style ‘chibi,’ which meant tiny bodies and large heads drawn overly-cute.

“I think the glitter paint for the rainbows were the right choice,” I said to myself.

“Well I don’t,” said an unmistakable voice of disdain. I turned - there was Rhys, arms folded over his crisp dress shirt.

Guilt bubbled up along with indignation. My movements were stiff as I rearranged the test tubes and the pieces of paper showing the stages to and from invisibility. I could stand to be invisible right about now.

“I thought you wouldn’t be coming,” I said, back to him as I focused on the display.

“I had to bring you this,” he said, and I turned to accept the folder he handed me. The paper. Right. His contribution. My eyes met his briefly as I took it, and just as quickly I looked away. He was still angry with me.

“Thank you for bringing it,” I said, formally, and turned back to fiddling with the test tubes.

He made a small sound of astonishment behind me. “That’s it?” he said. “That’s all you’re going to say?”

“I’m not apologizing, if that’s what you’re looking for,” I said, focus on the table so my voice wouldn’t waver.

“You promised me - ”

“You blackmailed me into promising you,” I said, the fabric of my dress sighing as I turned on him, angry enough to hold his gaze now. My heels put me at eye level with him. I kept my voice low so as to not attract unwanted attention from nearby groups. “Holding my journal hostage. You act like I betrayed some trust, but how could I trust you when you’re always threatening to take things away from me?”

That got a reaction. Off-balance, he fumbled a response. “I had to - you - you don’t know what’s at stake - ”

“I know that if you really want to be king one day,” I said, “you won’t ever have loyalty if you rule by fear.”

I didn’t want to make him angry like this, but also I did - I knew that he could do better, I was certain of it,