“Seventeen years?” Clementine said, as if that number meant something to her. When I nodded, her eyes widened in awe. “That means that your grandfather left Gottfried in 1989.”
“That sounds about right.”
“Nineteen eighty-nine?” she said, as if it should have rung a bell. “That’s the year of the bombing in the High Court.”
She searched the notebook until she found the last entries in 1989. The last four subjects were each sent as sources on the same day.
“The bombing of the courthouse took place one month after these four Undead were sent to spy on the Liberum.” Clementine traced their names. Kurt M., Henry L., Paul N., and Michael P.
“Four entries,” Clementine said. “For each of the four Undead that were on trial.”
However, unlike the previous subjects, these Undead had only one note for the four of them, which read:
Notes:
We were not able to question the sources. They were unexpectedly captured by a group of Monitors while traveling with the Liberum. The Monitors have brought the sources to the High Court, where they are awaiting trial for conspiring with the Liberum. They have already tried to tell the Monitors of our mission, but no one believes them. I will not come to their rescue. In a few days time, the High Court will find them guilty. They will be put to rest.
“The four Undead on trial that day were being accused of a crime that they didn’t commit,” I said. “That’s why Monsieur blew up the courthouse. He must have known what the High Court was doing.”
Clementine’s eyes glimmered. “He wanted to punish them.”
I nodded, the realization complicating my feelings about Monsieur even more. “And to free the innocent Undead in the process.”
“But what happened to the four Undead after that?” Clementine asked.
My mind raced to put the pieces together. I thought of my grandfather, of how he’d resigned from his position as the headmaster of Gottfried not long after the trial, when a mysterious fire ravaged the school, burning half of the campus and the forest around the Academy to ash. The Second Autumn Fire, the locals had called it, for the way it had made the trees look orange.
“Those four Undead were the ones who started the fire,” I realized. “They were seeking revenge on the man who almost put them to rest.”
“That’s why your grandfather resigned,” Clementine said. “He went on to become the head of the High Court.” She turned the page, but the next entry was from last September, over twenty years later. “That’s why there’s a twenty-year gap in these notes. Your grandfather and the elders were lying low. Without a contact at Gottfried, there was no way they could recruit new Undead boys. Until now.”
That night I woke to a pair of cold fingers pressed to my lips. I opened my eyes. Anya was crouched in my tent. “Shh,” she cooed.
She led me outside and away from the camp, tiptoeing through the snow like a deer. I followed her, groggy, my mind still thick with dreams.
“I can’t remember him,” I whispered to her. “I know I love him, but I can’t feel it anymore. I can’t feel anything.”
“Who?”
“Dante,” I said. “What does his voice sound like? I’ll never hear it again.”
Anya slowed, her hair blowing in front of her face. For a moment, I could almost believe that we were standing in the snowy streets of Montreal, walking back to our dormitory at St. Clément. I wanted to go back so badly, to rewind the past weeks, and erase all of the doubt I had been harboring. “Help me remember him.”
“I can’t,” Anya said. “There is no pill for that. But you’re lucky. He isn’t gone yet; you still have him. Love is like any other superstition—you can’t prove it, you just have to believe in it.”
By the light of the moon we walked down the ridge, zigzagging through the snow until I couldn’t tell which direction we had come from. A fire flickered in the distance. Theo huddled over it, a tent perched behind him.
“Did you read it?” he said.
“Yes,” I said. I thought back to that afternoon in the German countryside, when I had crouched behind the line of cars and eavesdropped on my grandfather as he threatened Theo. “You already knew my grandfather was doing this, didn’t you?”
“I only had an idea,” Theo said. His Spade rested on the ground beside him, its varnished handle propped up on his bag.
“This has to do with your being disbarred, doesn’t it?” I said.
He glanced at Anya, who gave him an encouraging nod. “Yes,” he said.
“What did you do?”
Theo took a breath, as though he’d been preparing for this moment for years. “I killed my father.”
“It was my first big mission,” Theo said. “I had earned my Spade a year before, and was one of the youngest Monitors ever to get one. And I earned it the real way. I’ve never studied so hard for anything in my life. I had to show them that I was more than just a dropout and a thief. I had to prove that I was one of them.” He clenched his jaw. “This is all to say that I wanted to be a Monitor, more than I’ve ever wanted to be anything. Do you understand?”
I nodded.
“Good,” he said. “Remember that later.”
Anya settled in beside me, her eyes scanning the horizon to make sure no one had followed us. She had already heard this story.
“Prior to that, I had only gone on smaller missions in Paris and Lyon, where I, along with other newly minted Monitors, scouted for fresh Undead. We rounded up non-violent Undead and brought them to the Court to be documented and sent to an Undead school. So when the High Court told me they thought they could trust me with a confidential, high-level mission, I was ecstatic. I went before the High Court, where I received my assignment: to travel to the mountains in upstate New York, where I was to capture an Undead who had supposedly worked with the Liberum. I expected to hear the normal directions: to only bury the Undead if he threatened my life or the lives of those around me, and to otherwise secure the Undead and bring him back to Montreal, where he would appear before the High Court for trial. But those directions never came. The High Court only gave me one directive: keep all details of this mission to myself. If I ran into any other Monitors on my way, I should tell them I was on a trip to see my family.
“That was the first sign that something was wrong, but I didn’t see it. I assumed that the rules were different on covert missions. They only gave me a few details: I was hunting an Undead boy, eleven years old. I remember being surprised when the Monitors told me that the Undead had only died two years before. Most Undead don’t become violent until they’ve been dead for much longer. But the Monitors had told me he was my target, which meant that he must have done something very bad.
“The Court told me that the Undead was somewhere in the wilds of upstate New York. This Undead was particularly vicious, they said, which was why I wasn’t bringing him back to the main courthouse. We couldn’t risk it. Instead, I was supposed to track him down and bury him.”
Theo leaned on his knees, the reflection of the fire making his eyes flicker. “I wandered through the wilderness for days, following his presence. When I finally found him, he was hiding by an old barn. I had expected him to be dangerous, but instead, he looked frightened and confused, and very, very young. I shouted at him to raise his hands where I could see them. He did as I said without arguing. I thought he might cry, that’s how scared he looked. My voice sounded so gruff in those woods. I remember feeling ashamed, standing there yelling at a child.
“Even though he didn’t seem dangerous, I tied his arms together and led him outside, where I planned on doing what I had gone there to do. Sure, he looked like a normal kid, but with every step I remembered the words of the High Court: this Undead was particularly vicious. He must have realized what I was there for, because he started to whimper. He kept repeating the same thing. They already questioned me. I don’t know anything.
“I didn’t know what he meant. Who questioned him? And about what? B
ut I forced my thoughts into silence. The Monitors hadn’t sent me there to talk to him. I told him to stand still and face the trees. I pulled the gauze from my pack and was about to put him to rest, when I noticed that his knees were trembling. Then I saw his sneakers, which were the same ones I’d had when I was his age. The laces were untied. I reached toward them, my arm brushing his ankle, and he began to cry. That’s when I knew that I couldn’t do it. I called my contact at the High Court, and told him that I didn’t think the Undead was too dangerous to transport to the High Court, and that I couldn’t put him to rest.
“He told me I was going against the High Court’s protocol. He said that I was letting the Undead trick me; that this was how the Undead boys of the Liberum operated. I asked him what the boy had done. He told me the boy had been working for the Liberum, and that was all I needed to know. I remember looking at the skinny outline of the boy’s body. It didn’t matter what the High Court said; I couldn’t do it. My contact asked me for my location, then told me to leave the boy in the barn. A group of Monitors from the High Court would be there soon. I asked the Monitor on the phone if he was absolutely sure that he had the right Undead. He said yes.
“I should have left it at that, but something about his voice made me wonder. So after I left the boy inside the barn, I crouched behind a bale of hay and waited until the Monitors arrived. There were only two of them, both men. I couldn’t see their faces in the dark; all I could make out were their hunched shoulders that shifted while they walked, and their Spades, which they carried low to their sides like axes.
“I knew something was wrong when I saw them in the light. Both Monitors were wearing wool face masks, which we’re never supposed to do. Monitors are always supposed to make their identities known. They walked into the barn and immediately started questioning the Undead boy. ‘What did you tell him?’ one of them said, in a voice that sounded like he was trying to disguise his identity.
“‘Nothing!’ the boy said.
“‘Did you tell them about your mission?’ the other Monitor asked.
“‘No,’ the boy said. ‘I did just as the elders told me to when they first sent me to the Liberum. They already questioned me about the Brothers and what they were looking for; I told them everything I knew. When I was finished, they said I could go free.’”
Theo furrowed his brow, his gaze distant as if he were still crouched by the entrance of the barn. “I had no idea what the boy was talking about. It sounded like the elders had sent him to the Liberum on purpose, and had already questioned him and decided to set him free. But if that were true, then why would they have sent me there to bury him?”
Beside me, Anya hugged her knees.
“The elders had sent the boy to the Liberum to find out about the Netherworld,” I said.
Theo nodded. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but now I’m certain that was what the boy was talking about.”
While Theo spoke, Anya leaned into the tent and opened her tin of elixirs. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her measure a handful of pills into her palm. She washed them down with a sip of water.
“The two Monitors didn’t seem to care what the boy said,” Theo continued. “They dragged him into the middle of the barn and pinned him down. One of the men removed a roll of embalming gauze from his pack and began to wrap the boy in cloth.”
Theo threw a splinter of wet wood into the fire, making it spit. “All I knew was that whatever the Monitors were doing was wrong, and I had to stop them. So I crept into the barn and pulled the chain on the bulb, leaving us in darkness. If I couldn’t see their faces, I didn’t want them to see mine.
“Everything went quiet. ‘Who’s there?’ one of them shouted, his voice gruff. All I could see were the whites of their eyes as they searched the barn. ‘Take off your masks and I’ll tell you,’ I said to them. They both turned in my direction. ‘Who are you?’ one of them said, stepping toward me. ‘I’m faceless and voiceless,’ I said, my words throaty so that I couldn’t be recognized either. ‘Just like you. You don’t want anyone to see what you’re doing. But I saw what you did.”
Theo paused. “That’s when I heard one of them move toward me. I couldn’t make out what was happening until I saw the tip of his Spade slicing through the air. I ducked out of the way just as it crashed into a wooden table. He swung at me again. I wove through the old furniture and equipment littering the barn. I didn’t notice the other Monitor waiting for me until he was close enough for me to see his eyes through the holes of his mask. I stumbled back as he lunged at me, just barely missing my chest. When I regained my balance, I swung back at him, aiming for his Spade. I meant to knock it out of his hand, but he moved it out of the way just before we collided. I felt my Spade hit something soft. Skin. Blood splattered across the wall. He collapsed to the ground. Just folded, like he was made of putty.”
Theo pushed off his wool hat and ran his hands through his hair. “I didn’t mean to kill him. It just happened. I dropped my Spade. When the other Monitor saw what had happened, he turned on the light and took off his mask. I recognized him as one of the Monitors who worked with my father. That’s when I got this awful feeling in my stomach. I gazed down at the man lying limp by my feet, a pool of red spreading around him. I turned the body over and pulled up his mask, already soaked through with blood. It was my father.”
Anya lowered her head in respect for the dead.
“The other Monitor took me back to Montreal, where they locked me in a holding cell beneath the High Court. I thought they were going to put me on trial, but halfway through the night, the guards unlocked the bars and brought me to your grandfather. The moment I saw him, I knew that I had seen something I shouldn’t have. Why else would he want to see me alone?
“He gave me some lame explanation: that they had been trying to get information about some plot the Liberum were going to launch on us. I didn’t believe him, but at that point I was too shaken to care. We made a deal. I wouldn’t tell anyone about what I’d seen, so as not to ruin the ‘undercover goals of the mission’. In exchange, instead of putting me on trial and letting the Monitoring community know that I had killed my father, your grandfather would explain his death away as a field accident. And I would be disbarred.”
“But it was self-defense,” I said. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Theo let out a callous laugh. “Not to them. I was the one who instigated the fight. I was the one who turned off the light, and crept in like an intruder; the one who swung the fatal blow. I should have just marched in, showed my face, and told them I was a Monitor. If they had put me on trial, I wouldn’t have had a chance. I was already a dropout and a known thief. It was my word against a respected Monitor. Who do you think the court would have believed?”
I looked at Theo, hunched over the fire, his sanded Spade resting by his side, his laces loose and caked with mud. I wouldn’t have believed him either.
“After that I moved in with my grandfather,” Theo said. “He doesn’t know what happened, and I hope he never does. Since then, I’ve been trying to figure out what the boy was talking about that night. What the elders were doing. I had theories, but none of them proved true until now.” He gazed at the notepad he’d taken from my grandfather. “That notebook fills in the gaps. The elders have been recruiting Undead through Gottfried for years. When your grandfather got into trouble at Gottfried, the other elders took over, and tried to recruit through lower Monitors like myself. Remember how I told you about my earlier missions, when I was searching for nonviolent Undead and bringing them to the High Court? I’m pretty sure that was just a way for me to bring new sources to the elders. All this time, they’ve been sending Undead boys to the Liberum to funnel information back about the Netherworld. When the Undead cease being useful, the elders set them free, and send a lower Monitor to bury them.”
“This was why Monsieur sent you,” I said. “This was why you wanted to come with us in the first place.”
Theo nodded. “I w
ant a fresh start.”
CHAPTER 14
The Last Gasp
I LEFT THEO AND ANYA as night faded into morning. The tents of the Monitor camp were quiet. I wove through them, tiptoeing through the snow until I reached my grandfather’s spot. Through the gray fabric I could just barely see the outline of him sleeping inside. I didn’t know what I was going to say or do, only that I had to face him. With one swift motion, I threw open the front flap. But when I stuck my head inside, all I saw was a crumpled-up sleeping bag and a few of my grandfather’s things. He was gone.
Footprints littered the edge of the camp: not just one set but many, each leading out from one of the elder’s tents and up along the ridge. I followed them until a ring of dark specks materialized through the fog. The elders of the High Court stood huddled together. They turned to me in unison, their coats flapping in the wind.
“Renée?” My grandfather said. His white hair fluttered against his forehead. “Is everything all right?”
I surveyed the elders, then reached into my coat and removed his notepad. “No,” I said. “It isn’t.”
My grandfather tilted his head, unable to hide his surprise. “Where did you get that?”
“I know what you’ve been doing at Gottfried.” I took a step closer. “I know about the bombing of the High Court all those years ago. I know about Theo and why he was disbarred.”
My grandfather’s silence served as an admission of guilt. Behind him, the other elders inched forward, murmuring among themselves, but my grandfather held his hand up to stop them.
“Theodore was disbarred because he killed his father,” my grandfather said, his face calm. “The bombing of the High Court has yet to be solved. And as for our mission, though it must be performed covertly to assure its success, that does not mean that I am ashamed of it. The work we have been doing will not only prevent the Liberum, the most vile group of Undead from our generation and generations past, from attaining eternal life; it could also restore the lives of fresh Undead and humans alike across the world.”