Chloe narrowed her eyes, like she didn’t believe my hasty cover-up. Leo shook his head.
“After your display with the knives yesterday, I wouldn’t worry about that. You’ve got the skills for this, and you’ve got the drive for it as well; honestly, the only thing that’s going to keep you out of the field is the review of your background, and the need to get you properly trained.” Leo’s smile was encouraging. “You’ve got a very good shot at avenging your family.”
“You’re Batman now,” said Margaret, leaning over the table and nabbing a sausage off my plate.
I wasn’t sure which dismayed me more: the food theft, or the reminder that she was a person. All of them were people. They watched television. They read books. They existed in the same world I did, and they thought it was okay to kill innocent creatures for the crime of not being human. I’d never felt more isolated from my own species than I did in that moment, or farther from the chance of going home.
“Buck up, new girl,” said Chloe. “Looks like you’re going to get everything you want.”
“Yay,” I said, with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. I picked up my fork. I needed to keep my strength up if I was going to get through this without stabbing anyone.
Nine
“Sometimes doing the right thing is the hardest thing in the entire world. Sometimes it costs you everything you have.”
—Enid Healy
Waiting outside the library in Penton Hall, six weeks and a lot of bruises later
THE CLOCK ABOVE THE doors had an irregularly loud tick. Sometimes it was silent, counting off the seconds without making a fuss, and then, with no warning, it would amp up to sounding like someone snapping their fingers next to my ear. That was probably one of the dangers of having a clock that was several centuries old and hadn’t been repaired since the birth of the United States, but that didn’t stop me wanting to “accidentally” break it. A lot. With a hammer.
I forced myself to keep breathing evenly and maintain a neutral expression. I’d survived six weeks of training with these people without breaking a single nose, limb, or piece of treasured property. I wasn’t going to fuck up now, not when I was so close to the brass ring of acceptance into the Covenant of St. George. My fingertips were getting hot again. I balled my hands into fists, pressing them against my palms. Hopefully, the gesture would read as nervous to anyone watching me.
(And there was always someone watching, except when I was in bed. I guess they figured Chloe could keep an eye on me in the wee hours of the night, which would have been a great theory, if she hadn’t been practicing so hard for the Sleep Olympics. Every night, she snored and I held quiet conclaves with the mice, making sure the record was up to date, making sure that when I slipped—and I was going to slip if I stayed here long enough—Mindy would be able to tell my family what I’d learned, and what I’d done, and how I’d died. Fatalism. It’s what’s for dinner.)
Six weeks of training under the watchful eye of Margaret Healy, with occasional assists from Leo, who came down from London on the weekends and was much more easy-going than she was. He took me running and counted off my push-ups and crunches. She taught me knife-throwing tricks I wasn’t sure even the Incredible Cristopher knew, and he was the one who’d handled my initial training. She had a vicious eye for traps, and didn’t hesitate to make them more lethal than they needed to be. A great teacher, in other words, but not the sort of woman I wanted for my enemy—and she was my enemy. She just didn’t realize it yet. I didn’t get to pick my own exercises, and I was going to be rusty when I got back on skates or back on the trapeze, but I was still working out enough to stay sane.
Six weeks of classes, some taught by Reginald Cunningham for a room packed with teenagers in black- and-white semi-uniforms who giggled at me behind their hands, viewing my placement in their ranks as some sort of punishment or remedial training. None of them seemed to know where I’d come from, and I was grateful for that. I’d managed to avoid most of the mean girls and asshole boys in high school by joining the cheerleading squad and never looking back. That didn’t mean I wanted to Drew Barrymore myself back into the scene for a second try.
I’d learned a lot. I’d learned, honestly, more than I’d been counting on. No deep secrets, no inner workings—we knew enough about those from the various ex-Covenant members of our family who’d been kind enough to write things down before dying or being sucked into parallel dimensions—but when it came to “what we’ve killed recently,” they were all too open. My classes had included lectures on how to kill most of the things we shared the planet with, sometimes accompanied by cheerful recitations of the last time those things were killed. Which was always, always much more recent than it should have been. And they talked about North America like it was the holy grail of monster hunting, the continent that resisted all attempts at a proper cleansing, no matter how many teams they sent to try, and die, upon its shores.
(Australia, amusingly, was never mentioned. They appeared to have decided that the right way to deal with the land down under was to pretend it didn’t exist, since it wasn’t like they could even get an agent onto Australian soil without the native cryptids, and cryptozoologists, bouncing them right back to Europe. North America was still viewed as somehow reclaimable, if they worked hard enough and never gave up. Australia was one big ol’ nope.)
Lucky me, I’d also been given a crash course on the Covenant’s enemies, with a starring role for—drumroll please—my family. The Price-Healys were the descendants of traitors to the Covenant, and had proven themselves to be traitors to the human race through their ongoing efforts to keep the Covenant out of North America and hence away from all those monsters that needed killing. They knew about Verity, which made sense, since she’d been on television. They also knew about Grandma Alice, who had also been there when Verity declared war. The rest of us were a mystery to them.
Good news: they thought there were substantially more of us than there really were. As in, they were assuming dozens. I wasn’t sure how fast Covenant girls were expected to breed, but their projections for the size of our family made me want to cross my legs, like, forever. Better news: Margaret didn’t remember seeing Verity before her television appearance. Sarah’s makeshift mind wipe had been complete enough that it hadn’t left any holes. The Covenant still thought Dominic was dead, and thank God and our local telepath for that.
Bad news: they were planning to quadruple their presence in North America over the next three years and take us out, assuming they could find us. And they would find us. They talked about torturing cryptids for information like they were discussing what to have for dinner. To them, anything done to a nonhuman didn’t really count and couldn’t be considered “wrong.” They would come up from South America or down from Canada, and they would find us, and they would kill us all. I needed to warn people. I needed to tell them our fears were justified.
I needed to keep standing in this hallway, waiting for Reginald to invite me into the library and tell me what the hell was going on.
Playing the good little Covenant recruit was sometimes easier than I wanted it to be. I’ve always tried to be a team player, and when we were doing sprints or practicing marksmanship, we were a team. It was like being back at cheer camp. Only this time, cheer camp was being run by an evil organization bent on stomping my family off the face of the planet, and every time I caught myself having fun, I felt like I was betraying everything I was supposed to stand for.
I needed to get out of here.
The library door swung open just as the clock gave another resounding “tick,” and there was Reginald Cunningham, smiling an indulgent, grandfatherly smile. “Timpani,” he said. “Thank you for waiting. You can come in now.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, and stepped over the threshold, stopping when I saw that he was not, as I’d previously assumed, alone. Margaret Healy and Robert Bullard were there, seated in the plus
h leather chairs and watching me. Leo was also there, but he wasn’t sitting down; he was standing by the window, looking distinctly unhappy.
My fingertips flashed hot and my chest got tight. They knew. Somehow, they knew. They’d caught Mindy running through the kitchen, or Chloe was a better actress than she seemed, and had heard me talking to the mice. They were going to kill me. But they were going to torture me first, to find out what I knew about my—
“You’ve done excellently in your time with us, and I believe it’s time we let you put your skills to a genuine test,” said Reginald.
I snapped out of my panic spiral and stared at him. “Sir?” I managed.
“I must object,” said Robert. He sounded bored. That was better than him sounding homicidal, I supposed. “She’s too untried, and she’s too new. New recruits shouldn’t be sent into the field until we’re certain they have the stomach for the work.”
My stomach twisted. If they were talking about sending me into the field, then they were talking about me killing things. Sapient things, or at the least endangered things, things I’d spent my life up to this point protecting.
I could talk a good game, and I could pretend with the best of them, but I couldn’t kill an innocent person. Not even for my family’s sake.
“That’s the beauty of this particular assignment,” said Reginald. “She doesn’t need the stomach for anything. She just needs eyes, and a quick mind, and the ability to blend in. She’s already demonstrated all those things. Margaret will be accompanying her, and can handle any actual conflict. Annie merely needs to observe.”
“Um,” I said. “If I’m not going to be doing anything, why do I need to go . . . ? I mean, I want to prove myself, but this doesn’t seem like proving myself. It seems like making Margaret babysit me.”
“Ah,” said Reginald. “Yes, I suppose we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Timpani, when someone becomes a full member of the Covenant, regardless of whether they were born to it or trained, they customarily complete a trial suited to their particular skills. Now, we’re not offering you full membership yet, but we are willing to remove your probationary status if you’re willing to undertake a trial now. One that’s particularly well-suited to your skills and background. I don’t want to rush you into anything you don’t feel prepared for, but this is something we didn’t expect. An opportunity for all of us to gain ground in an area where we’ve traditionally been unable to break through.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“There is a carnival.”
I went cold. If he said the word “Campbell,” I was going to have to run, and if I got caught, at least I could tell Mindy: at least I could send out a warning. “Where?” I asked.
“North America. Wisconsin at present, although carnivals move. Our sources say that this carnival harbors several inhuman creatures, concealing them among the performers. Not uncommon, we’re afraid: we’ve found quite a few monsters hiding in plain sight.”
I did my best to look shocked. “I never knew.”
“Some shows are still human in origin. You were fortunate to belong to one of them. This particular corruption is so endemic that we haven’t traditionally pursued it . . . unless.”
“Unless?” I asked warily.
“Unless there have been reports of disappearances in the vicinity of the carnival or circus. Three teenagers have been reported missing by their parents following this show’s appearance in their area. We suspect foul play. That, my dear Timpani, is where you come in.”
It took me a moment to find my voice. “You . . . want to send me back to America so I can infiltrate a carnival for the Covenant?”
“Yes,” said Reginald. “Exactly. You won’t be unsupervised, of course: Margaret will be nearby at all times, and you’ll be able to contact her if you feel you’re in danger or find proof that the carnival is behind the disappearances.”
“Why not just send in a field team?”
“Several reasons. We don’t know if the children are still alive. You might be able to find them. We don’t know whether the reports of monsters are accurate, or simply people seeing performers in costume and letting their imaginations run away with them. Most of all, you’re already part of the carnival community. If you can make contact here, if you can convince them, we may be able to use you as the lever through which we pry open their pretty painted tents and let the light shine through. Show us you’re loyal. Show us that you want this. And show us that you’re worth our time.”
I stared at him. Margaret and Robert continued to watch me calmly from their chairs, while Leo, by the window, looked miserable. I swallowed hard.
“Well,” I said, in the lightest tone I could manage. “No pressure, huh?”
They were going to transfer me and Margaret to the London house for three days while our travel arrangements were made. We’d be flying separately to Madison, Wisconsin, where she’d take up residence in a furnished apartment rented off Airbnb, while I’d spend a night in a local Motel 6 before heading out to find the carnival. It was a good plan. It was a solid plan. It was a plan that hinged entirely on my actually being Timpani Brown, former carnival brat, and not Antimony Price, undercover cryptozoologist.
Boy, wasn’t the Covenant going to be surprised.
In a way, this was a good thing: they were getting me back to North America. Once I was there, I’d be within shouting distance of dozens of allies, contacts, and honorary family members who could bail me out if necessary. But I was going to be accompanied by Margaret Healy, who hated my family more than anything in the world; and more, I was being sent to a carnival that was already on the Covenant’s radar. If I walked in, announced myself, and ran, they’d all wind up slaughtered. No. That wasn’t acceptable. I needed to do what I was being sent to Wisconsin to do, at least within reasonable limits. I needed to look for the missing kids and determine how much of the carnival was or was not human.
Once I knew whether they were innocent targets or killers, I could figure out how to tell them they’d attracted the attention of the Covenant—and whether I also needed to notify my parents. The peace between the humans and cryptids of North America can be a tenuous one. Humanity can’t know that the cryptids are there, because our response is all too frequently “here there be monsters, kill them, kill them with fire.” But that means that when something is actually dangerous, there’s no way for the humans to know they need to be taking care of themselves. In our efforts to protect one community, we can inadvertently put the other in harm’s way.
There was a knock behind me. I turned to see Leo standing there, collar unbuttoned and hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks, a frustrated expression on his face.
“Annie, I’m sorry,” he said. “I tried to talk them out of sending you, but once my grandfather makes his mind up, he’s not overly interested in changing it.”
“It’s okay.” I turned back to my suitcase, picking up the next sweater to be folded. “It’ll be nice to be back in the States. Halloween is next month, and you people don’t even have candy corn. How can you exist in a world without candy corn? It’s criminal, I tell you. So this will be good for me.”
“I know you’re not ready for this.”
“Way to show faith in me.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it. You’ve been here less than two months. Sending you to America half-trained, with only Margaret for backup, and into a situation that’s going to remind you so much of your family—it’s not fair. It’s more than we have the right to ask of you.”
“I promise I’m made of sterner stuff than that.” I smiled at him. “I made it this far, didn’t I? I tracked down the mythical Covenant of St. George and convinced you to let me in the doors. I can handle a carnival. It’ll be like a vacation after dealing with Margaret’s idea of ‘light training.’”
Leo laughed. “She can be a bit aggressive, yeah. But
you understand why, don’t you?”
I shrugged. “I know she shares a last name with those traitors your grandfather was teaching me about. I figured she’s probably related.”
“She’s more than related. She’s close family. Her father’s father was the son of Alexander and Enid Healy, who deserted the Covenant after being led astray by heathen teachings.” Leo said this like it was perfectly reasonable, and not bizarro revisionist history. “They left their children behind when they went, they were in such a hurry to put an ocean between them and people who thought rightly about humanity’s place in the world. Margaret should have been like my sister. She should have been born a princess within the Covenant. Good bloodline, centuries of service, grand knights in her family tree. Instead, she’s been watched like a hawk her entire life, because some people think deceit runs in the blood. She’s angry, and she has every right to be. Those people destroyed her life before she was even born, and there was never anything she could have done.”
“That’s . . . wow.” I tried to look shocked, instead of furious. I wasn’t sure it was working. “Why did they leave their kids behind? My parents would have never done that to me.”
“They were traitors. Who knows how a traitor thinks?”
There was a flicker of motion near his foot. I glanced down and saw Mork running at Leo’s ankle, whiskers flat, looking for all the world like he was about to attack the man for the sake of his gods.
Great-Great-Grandpa Alexander and Great-Great-Grandma Enid have been dead for a long time, and I didn’t think they were going to be particularly upset by one Covenant member badmouthing them. Mork, on the other hand, wasn’t dead, and had become my responsibility the moment he announced his intention to come back to America with me. Quick as I could, I stepped forward, grabbed Leo’s hands in what I hoped would seem like an impulsive gesture, and pulled him toward me, away from the enraged Aeslin mouse.