The Inkridden Tribune’s headline broke the morning in two. Into a before and an after. Blissful ignorance and terrible realization.
Iris stood at the Attwoods’ front window and watched as Dacre’s ultimatum spun up a fury in the street. People were leaving their homes, carrying valises and precious belongings, anxious expressions on their faces. Some were heading north; others were rushing southward, toward, Iris hoped, a safe building.
She watched the panicked exodus, her stomach roiling.
She hated how familiar this felt. She hated how she saw Avalon Bluff every time she closed her eyes.
Tobias had left at first light, to drive the roadster home and pick up his parents. Attie had given him the address of the McNeils’, their prearranged meetup and shelter for the rest of the day. And he was right to leave before the newsboys flung papers onto door stoops, because after eight o’clock, the streets were so clogged and chaotic that Iris didn’t think a vehicle would be able to pass through.
“I need to go get Sarah,” Forest said as he came to stand beside Iris at the window. “Do you think she’s at the Gazette, or should I run to her father’s first?”
“I bet she’s already in the office. She was always one of the first to arrive at work.” Iris wondered what was currently unfolding at the Gazette. How Zeb would be bewildered and envious that the Inkridden Tribune had stirred up a frenzy, and then furious to see his front page had been altered.
Although Iris wouldn’t believe it until she saw the paper with her own eyes.
She followed Forest to the street, taking hold of his sleeve. His face looked bruised this morning, and a bit swollen around his right eye, but his gaze was clear and focused. Iris could tell he was already kilometers away in his mind, imagining which route he would take to reach Sarah.
“Bring her to 2928 Thornberry Circle,” Iris said. “The McNeils’ house. We’ll be waiting there for you.”
Forest nodded. “We might be late, if she’s at the Gazette and we need to go back for her father.”
Iris bit her lip, wanting to protest. But then a breeze sighed through the street, and a newspaper fluttered against the curb. Just from the headline font, Iris knew it was the Gazette. She reached down and picked it up, smoothing the front page.
She couldn’t explain the feeling that bloomed in her chest to see her sneaky article right there, front and center, on the first page. To an unsuspecting reader, the block of text would seem to only be a strange list of addresses, with continued on page three at the bottom. She thumbed to the third page, Forest frowning as he leaned closer to see what she was doing. And there, another block of addresses. Another, and another, with an explanation of what they were.
THESE ADDRESSES ARE KNOWN OR SUSPECTED TO BE ROOTED ON MAGICAL LEY LINES, AND CAN PROVIDE SHELTER DURING THE BOMBING.
“If you and Sarah and Mr. Prindle can’t reach the McNeils’ in time,” Iris began, setting the Gazette in Forest’s hands, “go to one of the addresses listed here, or a building you know has magical tendencies. It should keep you safe.”
Forest finally understood. A light sparked in his eyes as he threaded his fingers through Iris’s hair and kissed her brow.
“Did I ever tell you how proud I am of you?” he said.
“Yes, but I’ll never grow tired of hearing it,” Iris wryly countered.
“And also … I like your new haircut. It suits you.”
“Did you just now notice it, Forest?”
He only smiled as he stepped into the street. Newspaper tucked beneath his arm, he turned and melted into the crowd.
Iris stood there awhile longer, trying to tame her worries. Worries about Forest and Sarah, Tobias and his parents. Marisol and Lucy and Keegan, still on the city outskirts. About Roman, and what he would think when Iris and Attie failed to show at their appointed meet-up.
She traced the iron key, hidden in her trouser pocket.
“Are you about ready to go?”
Iris glanced behind to see Attie walking down the front steps to join her at the curb.
“I think so.”
“There’s porridge and eggs on the table if you want any. Papa insisted on everyone eating a good meal before we set off.”
“I’m not sure I can eat at the moment.”
“Same.” Attie grew quiet, shielding her eyes against the morning rays. “It’s strange to say this out loud, but I didn’t know what I would think.”
“About what?”
“About how many of our neighbors packed all their valuables in a valise and went north.”
Iris was quiet, watching people pass by. Families arriving from the northern side of the river, families fleeing from the south side. Some people who were simply spinning in circles, confused and weeping. Some people who acted like everything was normal, attempting to carry out their daily routines.
She had overheard a few panicked individuals say all southern gates and waypoints out of the city had also been barricaded and blocked by Dacre’s army. No one could leave Oath; they could only choose which side of the river to shelter on.
“I thought more people I knew would refuse to kneel to Dacre, but I suppose I was wrong.” Attie shrugged, but Iris could tell how hurt and sad she was.
“Sometimes,” Iris began, “I don’t think we know what we’re made of until the worst moment possible happens. Then we must decide who we truly are and what is most important to us. I think we’re often surprised by what we become.”
They stood shoulder to shoulder for a while longer, silently lost to thought.
Attie finally broke the quiet. “Here. This is for you.” She pressed a smooth and sticky ball into Iris’s hands.
“What’s this?”
“Wax for your ears,” Attie explained. “As much as I want you to hear me play, it’ll be best if you don’t. I don’t want you falling asleep on me.”
Iris hadn’t even thought of that, but she shivered in relief. Of course she also would be vulnerable to the spell of Attie’s music if she heard it below, and she tucked the wax away into her pocket for later.
“Will you play ‘Alzane’s Lullaby’ for me when this is over?” Iris asked. “Aboveground, that is.”
Attie smiled. “I promise.”
A ten-minute walk took nearly half an hour.
Iris held Ainsley’s hand as they followed the path Mr. Attwood forged for them through the teeming streets. He carried a small caddy with Lilac, who emitted a steady stream of plaintive meows, inside. Attie was close behind, her youngest brother perched on her back, her violin case strapped to her chest. Mrs. Attwood’s fingers were woven with those of both twins, one on each side. But it was still a difficult feat to stay together as they jostled shoulders with strangers and tripped over abandoned items in the streets. As they went with the flow as well as fought against it.
Iris’s knees felt like water, her clothes damp with perspiration, when they finally reached the McNeils’ front door.
Mrs. Attwood rang the bell, but Attie was already shaking her head.
“It doesn’t look like they’re here, Mum.”
“Let me knock, then. I don’t think they would go north…”
Iris studied the house. The shutters were bolted shut. No lights were on. The door was locked.
Mrs. Attwood slumped as the truth sank in, her face creasing with worry.
“We can find another place,” Attie said confidently. “What about the museum?”
The museum was as enchanted as it was spacious. A building with hardly any windows. It would also provide some distraction as the hours passed.
“A good choice,” Mr. Attwood said. Lilac mewed in agreement. “But we need to hurry. It’s going to be a long walk in this traffic.”
“We need to leave a note for Tobias and Forest first.” Attie opened her violin case to pull out a sheet of music.
Iris found a tube of lipstick in a discarded purse, handing it to Attie. She wrote in big red letters over the musical score: TOBIAS & FOREST, WE ARE AT THE MUSEUM!! before she pressed the sheet to the McNeils’ front door with a piece of the wax she had given Iris.
From there, they headed farther south to downtown, painstakingly weaving their way through the crowd.
It was nearing eleven o’clock—only one hour until impact—by the time the museum came into view.
To Iris’s shock, there was a crowd at the doors, as if every nook and cranny within were already taken by people who had read the Gazette, desperate to find safety. There was no chance of the Attwoods finding room, and Iris began to feel panic tingling at her fingertips.
“Mum, where are we going?” Ainsley asked, exhausted from the walk. “I’m thirsty.”
Mrs. Attwood didn’t reply, her eyes scanning the impossibility before them.
“What other enchanted buildings are close?” Attie whispered to Iris. “I’m trying to think but my mind feels scrambled…”
Iris stood up on her toes to study the tall structures around them. The sheathed sword was heavy, and she rolled her aching shoulders. She thought of the list she and Tobias had made, and the one place they had forgotten about.
“What about Gould’s?”
“The café?” Mr. Attwood said, overhearing.
“Where the tea never grows cold, and the scones are always warm. It’s not far from here.” Attie shifted her brother on her back. “I think we should at least walk by and see if it’s full.”
They pressed on through the crowd. Iris felt the tension dissolve from her bones when she saw there was plenty of space inside the café. A few waiters were even serving tea and cake to customers, as if the bombs weren’t coming.
“Here, my loves. Let’s sit in that booth on the far wall,” said Mrs. Attwood, her relief nearly tangible.
The siblings slipped into the big booth, as far away from the windows as possible, with Lilac in tow, and while Mr. Attwood went to the counter for a pitcher of lemonade and some sandwiches, Attie pulled Iris to the side.
“I’m going to go back to the museum,” she said. “To tell Tobias and Forest where we are when they arrive.”
Iris licked her chapped lips, tasting salt from her sweat. She couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in her heart, like her chest had caved in. It had taken them so long to get from one point to the other, she didn’t know if Tobias and Forest would be able to catch up to them.
“Okay,” she said, ignoring that twinge of dread. “I’ll figure out if there’s a door here we can use.”
Attie nodded. “Good. I’ll be back at ten till.”
“Be safe,” Iris said.
She watched as Attie slipped back into the street, where the crowd was thinning as noon approached. Uneasy, Iris walked around the café, her eyes searching for a door that might shift its threshold. She passed by the table where she had once met Sarah on a rainy morning, then the table she had sat at with Roman, sharing tea and sandwiches, not so long ago. She traced the back of the chair as she passed, tears in her eyes.
Stay sharp, stay strong, she told herself. Focus for just a little while longer. This will be over soon.
Roman had mentioned that Dacre’s doors preferred to be close to hearths. But there was no fireplace in the café, and Iris was beginning to think she would need to scout for another door in a different building when a waiter approached her.
“Lovely sword you have there. Would you like a cup of tea?” he asked, extending a dainty cup set in a saucer. “Compliments of the goddess.”
Iris startled. “Enva was here?”
“No,” he said with a smile. “This is simply our way of saying Dacre can return to the hell he came from.”
“Oh.” Iris gave a shaky laugh. “I’ll drink to that. Thank you.”
She sipped the tea, surprised by how it settled her stomach, and continued to walk around the café. Or perhaps it wasn’t the tea but the bravery, the unexpected comradery. She looked at the people who had gathered, some of them with their valises and bags brimming with valuables, others with nothing but the complimentary tea and cake the café was doling out. There were people in their older years, others who looked quite young. Some were dressed in suits and heels, others in uniforms or grease-stained jumpsuits. One woman sat with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, a poetry book cradled in her slender hands.
And yet they were all connected by their decision to stay.
Iris watched as the café owner and some of the waitstaff began to carry out large panels of wood, to nail over the windows outside. Mr. Attwood and Attie’s brothers rushed to help, and the light inside gradually waned as the sunshine was blocked out.
Iris continued to meander around the café, down its crooked corridor, where the kitchen was brilliant at the end of the hallway, beckoning her with its light and the aroma of fresh blueberry scones. She passed the lavatory, the very one she had read Roman’s and Dacre’s letters in, and the key in her pocket warmed.
She paused, gazing at the door.
This was it, then. A threshold that would shift.
She drained the rest of the tea and rejoined Attie’s family at the booth, a lantern set on the table to provide better light.
But the minutes continued to tick away. Soon, the clock on the wall read eleven forty-five, and Attie had yet to return. The air in the café was beginning to feel anxious and grim, and Iris couldn’t stay still.
She walked to the front door and gazed out into the street of Oath.
It was empty now.
It looked eerie, abandoned, even under the full brunt of the midday sun.
At five till noon, Iris’s fear had fully hooked her heart. She crossed her arms to hide how her hands were shaking.
“I’ll go after her,” said Mr. Attwood.
Iris turned to see he was standing behind her, also gazing beyond the door, waiting for Attie’s return. If he left now, he wouldn’t make it back to the café before noon.
“Let me go instead, Mr. Attwood,” Iris offered. “We’re planning to—”
“Wait, there they are!”
Iris whirled back around. She opened the door, the bell above ringing as the heat of the day washed over her. Tobias and his parents were rushing behind Attie as she led the way into the café.
There was no sign of Forest and Sarah.
Iris swallowed that realization like it was a jagged piece of ice. It scraped down her throat. She felt irrevocably cold.
“We’re back,” Attie announced, for her father’s sake. Then she turned to Iris and whispered, “I’m sorry. I stayed as long as we could, but Forest and Prindle never showed.”
“I’m sure they sheltered elsewhere,” Iris said. She glanced at the clock again. Two more minutes.
Attie drew Tobias and her father off to a private corner. Iris knew she was breaking the news to them, and she led the Bexleys back to the booth. She formally met Tobias’s parents, shaking their hands and offering a smile.
“We’ve heard so much about you, Iris,” Mrs. Bexley said warmly. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Tobias told me to bring my deck of cards so we could hopefully pass the time faster. Would you like to join us?”
“I would love to, Mrs. Bexley,” Iris said, fighting tears. “There’s something I must tend to first, but maybe after that?”
“Of course. We’ll save you a spot.”
Iris nodded, her feet leaden as she moved aside for the waiter. He brought out the last of the complimentary tea, the last of the cake. It felt like the dying gasp of normalcy, a final vestige of life as they had once known it to be.
It occurred to Iris, then, that she would need something to leave a trail below. She asked for a few biscuits, and the same waiter who had given her the cup of tea handed her three blueberry scones, still warm from the oven.
“I’m not sure what you have planned,” he said, eyeing the hilt of her sword again, “but I do hope you’re successful.”
Iris didn’t have a chance to reply to him; Attie called for her over the murmur of conversations, violin and bow in her left hand. Iris walked across the café to meet her friend.
Tobias appeared stricken. His lips were pursed, his eyes downcast. But he stood close behind Attie, his fingers woven with hers. Mr. Attwood looked stunned as well, but there was also a sheen of pride in his eyes as he gazed at his daughter, holding her instrument in a public space.
“I told them everything,” Attie said. “Did you locate the door?”
“Yes. It’s over here.”
Iris wove around the tables. Attie’s violin drew more stares and whispers than Iris’s sword, and she was thankful when they reached the cover of the corridor.
The key grew warm in her pocket again. Iris brought it out into the dim light, let it lie flat on her palm. For a moment, no one spoke or moved. They merely stared at the under realm key until a distant boom rattled the walls.
The first bomb, and it didn’t feel far off.
“One of Dacre’s tactics is to bomb and devastate, and then bring his forces in to scavenge and plunder,” Iris said, glancing up at Mr. Attwood. “I’m going to unlock this door so we can pass through it, and then I’m going to lock it behind me. So this threshold won’t remain active, but it’s still something to keep in mind.”
Something to keep in mind if we fail, Iris finished inwardly. But she didn’t want to speak that possibility aloud.
“How long will you be gone?” Tobias asked.
Iris and Attie exchanged an uncertain look. There was no way for them to know.
“We’re not certain,” Attie replied. “But we hope it won’t be too long.”
Another bomb rattled the walls. A few waiters rushed by, disappearing into the kitchen. The electricity flickered.
“Ready, Iris?” Attie said, and while she appeared confident, Iris saw how she still held Tobias’s hand, as if leaving him was the last thing she wanted to do.
Iris nodded and faced the door. She held the key up to the knob, amazed when she saw a keyhole form. She slipped the key into it and turned, the door popping open.
She smelled it first, the scent of the under realm. Damp rock and cold musty air. Carefully, she drew the door open and stared down the passageway. It was a steep stairwell hewn in the pale rock, and it descended into thick, cobwebbed darkness.
“Tobias?” Mr. Attwood said. “Will you bring us the lantern that’s at the booth?”
Tobias quickly obliged, his fingers slipping from Attie’s. Within seconds, he returned with the lantern in hand, passing it to Iris.
“Thank you,” she said, unable to hide the warble in her voice. But she was grateful for the light, and she took her first step down, and then another.
Iris paused when she realized Attie wasn’t behind her.
“Do you remember everything I taught you, Thea?” Mr. Attwood was saying.
“How could I forget, Papa?” Attie countered mirthfully, but it sounded like she was about to cry. “I used to think I would play in the symphony one day.”
“Yes, and all those hours you devoted to that dream, playing in secret.” Her father paused, caressing her cheek with his knuckles. “Now I see all those moments prepared you for this one. I’m proud of you, sweetheart. Be careful.”
He kissed her brow. Attie rapidly blinked back tears.
Tobias stepped forward next to embrace her. She rose on her toes to whisper something in his ear, and he listened, his fingers splayed over her back. Whatever the words were, he relinquished her, but his eyes burned through the shadows, following her as Attie took her first step down.
“Return to me, Thea Attwood,” he said.
Attie spun to look back at him. “In case you didn’t know, I have nine lives too, Tobias Bexley.”
That drew a small smile from him, but it faded as Attie took another step down into the musty under realm. Tobias flinched, like he wanted to follow her into the darkness.
Iris could hardly breathe as she reached for the door handle. “I’ll bring her back safely,” she promised.
“We’ll be waiting here for you both,” Mr. Attwood said, setting his hand on Tobias’s shoulder.
It took everything within Iris to close the door, to watch the light fade with the motion. But she did, sealing off one realm for another. She slipped the key into the hole and locked the door behind herself and Attie.
