The Inventor's Secret by Andrea Cremer
“Are you sure this will work?” Charlotte heard Pip query.
Scoff was tugging at his wild lilac hair as Charlotte entered the laboratory. “It should work—”
He stopped talking when he caught sight of Charlotte. If she hadn’t known how dangerous Scoff’s lair could be, Charlotte would have considered it the most beautiful part of the Catacombs. The spacious cavern was bursting with shelves and tables, which in turn were crammed with beakers, bottles, vases, bowls, tubes, and measuring tools. The menagerie of objects was mostly glass, with a few metal and wooden pieces scattered throughout. Few of the containers were empty, and Charlotte could identify only a handful of their contents. The variety of powders, liquids, dried herbs, and preserved oddities filled the laboratory with a kaleidoscope of colors.
Jumping off the stool on which she’d been perched, Pip greeted Charlotte with a warm smile. “Hi, there!”
“Charlotte,” Scoff said more warily, “can I help you?”
“I’m just seeking asylum from my brother’s boorishness,” Charlotte told them.
Pip bobbed her head and giggled. “Ash can be a bit bossy, huh?”
“He is the boss,” Scoff chided. “I don’t think 'bossy' can be used as an insult when you’re supposed to be in charge.”
Charlotte let that slide, wanting to get her mind off Ash and knowing that Scoff would never miss an opportunity to expound on his latest discoveries. “What’s new in the laboratory?”
“Scoff’s a genius!” Pip replied, and Scoff went red behind the ears.
“A genius, eh?” Charlotte said.
Nodding a little too enthusiastically, Pip said to Scoff, “Go on, tell her.”
With a flourish, Scoff produced a stoppered bottle full of a dark, viscous substance. “It’s a formula I’ve been working on for an event just such as this.”
“Such as what?” Charlotte raised an eyebrow. She couldn’t think of any precedent that would make Scoff anticipate Grave’s arrival.
Scoff lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “The capture of an enemy.”
“Grave is not an enemy!” Charlotte hadn’t meant to shout, but she had, and Scoff went pale.
Pip wedged herself between Charlotte and Scoff.
With her hands on her hips, Charlotte said, “Tell me what’s in that bottle.”
“I call it the Elixir of Intentions.” Scoff held up the mixture as if to admire its color, but Charlotte found nothing appealing to look at. The slimy concoction reminded her of congealing blood.
When Charlotte failed to appear impressed, Scoff added, “When Grave drinks this, he’ll be compelled to tell us the truth of his identity.”
“Have you tested it?” Charlotte asked.
Scoff let out an exasperated breath. “I haven’t had anyone to test it on!”
“Are you sure it won’t hurt him?” Charlotte looked meaningfully at Pip’s green locks.
Pip grinned and tugged at her pigtails. “This didn’t hurt at all . . . I suppose it itched for a day or two.”
Charlotte ignored Pip, who’d wrinkled her nose and was now scratching at her scalp, instead saying to Scoff, “And how can he be compelled to tell the truth when he remembers nothing?”
“He could be lying.” Scoff sounded hurt, but Charlotte was too frustrated to care.
“Has everyone gone mad?” Charlotte stomped her foot. “He’s just a boy. He’s like us. Grave needs our help, not cages and poisons.”
Scoff cradled the glass bottle against his chest. “It’s not poison.”
“I’m sure it wouldn’t kill him,” Pip said to Scoff. Her smile was reassuring at first but then faded. “Would it?”
Charlotte turned away from them just in time to hear the clang of a bell echo through the Catacombs. “Ugh.”
“Ooh! Dinner!” Pip exclaimed as Charlotte exited the laboratory.
Charlotte cursed under her breath and grabbed her skirts so she could move more quickly. Hurrying up the stairs and dashing to the mess hall, Charlotte tore off part of a round loaf of brown bread and grabbed some cloth-wrapped hard cheese from the larder before retreating to her room. She was too miffed to eat in a room crowded with jostling children and the constant buzz of conversation, and she wanted to be sure Ash knew. And Jack too, for that matter. As she ducked out of the mess hall, Charlotte wondered if she shouldn’t force herself to share a table with her brother just to be sure that Scoff didn’t persuade Ash to try out that elixir on Grave. She quickly pushed the thought away, telling herself that even if Ash gave in to Scoff’s assurances, Meg would never allow Scoff to experiment on Grave. At least there was one person in the Catacombs Charlotte could trust to act with some sense.
As she sat on the edge of her bed, Charlotte barely tasted the hunks of bread and cheese as she chewed and swallowed. She was already contemplating her next move. Ash might view Grave as a threat, but Charlotte could still show the boy some kindness. She’d visit him while the others were at dinner, reassure him that all would be well soon enough. Satisfied with her new plan, Charlotte returned to the winding corridors. She was careful to choose a route that would not take her past the mess hall.
Her mood buoyed by this new course of action, Charlotte stepped lightly through the passageway. Nearly smug with satisfaction, Charlotte pulled up with a start when she suddenly heard voices just around the bend in the hall before her. She quickly backtracked until she reached a side passage. Ducking around the corner, Charlotte pressed herself up against the wall and listened.
Meg’s gentle tone reached Charlotte’s ears. “When he’s alone, I sometimes hear him talking to himself.”
“What does he say?” Charlotte tensed when she recognized Ash’s voice.
“He whispers of clocks,” Meg answered.
“Clocks?” Ash said. “What do you mean clocks?”
Meg uttered a low laugh. “It really is odd. ‘Ticktock, ticktock. Never, never stop.’”
“That’s what he says?”
She made a soft, affirmative noise. “It’s almost like a song. There’s something about him, Ashley . . . I don’t think he’s overtly dangerous, but he unnerves me in a way I can’t explain.”
“Of course he unnerves you. He’s a nutter,” Ashley said sharply. “Lottie never should have brought him here. What was she thinking!”
“She was trying to save him from the Rotpots,” Meg answered. “What would you think of your sister if she’d seen him running for his life and not done anything?”
Charlotte heard Ash grunt in reply, and Meg laughed again. “Someday you’ll have to let her grow up.”
“Athene have mercy, not you too,” Ash moaned.
“Me too?” Meg asked.
“Nothing,” Ash replied quickly. “Just something Jack said earlier . . . Speaking of Jack, I should—”
Meg picked up where Ash’s voice trailed off. “You should go. I’ll oversee dinner.”
“Thanks, Meg.”
“Hurry back.”
There was a long pause and Charlotte held her breath, worried it would give her away. Finally, Ash spoke again. He sounded nervous.
“Um, yes. Well. I’ll be off, then.”
“Don’t forget to tell me that you’re safely returned. No matter how late it is,” Meg said quietly.
“Of course,” Ash said and cleared his throat. “Always.”
Charlotte heard the scuff of Ash’s boots as he passed her hiding spot and continued down the corridor. A moment later, Meg’s soft footfalls moved off in the opposite direction.
Where was Ash going?
The swell of self-righteousness that had carried Charlotte toward an imprisoned Grave lost out to her curiosity. Ignoring a twinge of guilt, she snuck back into the corridor after Ashley.
Following her brother proved to be more of a challenge than Charlotte had anticipa
“Ho, there!”
Charlotte pulled up sharply and held her breath at the sound of Jack’s voice.
“Evening, Jack.” Ash’s reply carried along the dark passage.
“Took you long enough,” Jack said. “Any trouble getting away?”
“No,” Ash told him. “I was just talking things over with Meg.”
“Ah.” Charlotte could hear the grin suffusing Jack’s tone. “If I’d known that was it, I wouldn’t have complained. You should take all the time you need with Meg. Hephaestus knows you could use it.”
“Shut your trap, Jack.”
The scuff of boots signaled that the boys were moving again. Now that they were talking, Charlotte could move more freely. Their voices covered the sounds of her pursuit and made it much easier for her to track them, though she found she couldn’t follow their conversation and still creep silently along behind them. Since Jack seemed keen on continuing to hound Ash about Meg, Charlotte decided it didn’t much matter what they were saying.
As they climbed through the caverns, the boys suddenly veered into a side passage where no phosphorescent mushrooms had been cultivated, causing their path to be swallowed up by darkness, and Charlotte became more and more perplexed. Neither Ash nor Jack carried a lantern, which meant they were feeling their way along the stone walls just as Charlotte was. She thought she knew where they were, but if she was right, their location didn’t make any sense. The natural formations of the Catacombs afforded them a safe, secret habitation, but it wasn’t without its drawbacks. Such as that several tunnels came to an end in unhelpful or, worse, dangerous places. And one of those dead-end corridors was precisely where Ash and Jack were headed.
If Charlotte had guessed correctly about the passage they were in, it would only be another few minutes until they arrived at a wide rock shelf that led nowhere. The opening in the hillside was partially covered by a jutting slab of rock precariously overhanging the shelf, above which was a steep face made slick by rivulets of water that coursed over its surface. Only an intrepid squirrel would dare to climb it. At its far edge, opposite the narrow entrance to the Catacombs, the cave’s gaping maw opened onto a sheer cliff that dropped into the gorge below. Neither up nor down provided a means of escape; thus, this passage was one that remained unused.
Until now.
Very slowly, the moon’s cool silver light trickled down the path from above, offering Charlotte a reprieve from the darkness. She watched Ash and Jack’s tall silhouettes crest the steep corridor ahead and then disappear from view, leaving Charlotte to gaze at the bright orb of the full moon that hung in the night sky.
Afraid the light would give her away, Charlotte dropped to her hands and knees and crawled the remaining distance up the path. Her fingers curled over the lip of the corridor, which dropped down abruptly onto the rock shelf. Charlotte gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth, silently cursing herself for letting her surprise get the best of her.
Neither Jack nor Ash turned at the sound, but for good reason. They were enraptured by the giant object that filled the shelf from end to end. If Ash hadn’t taken the time to teach his little sister about the Imperial Air Force, Charlotte’s gasp would likely have been a scream, because nothing less than a monstrous war machine crowded the space before her.
The bulbous cockpit of the Dragonfly offered its pilot clear views of the sky, while the machine guns under its wings could target enemies at multiple angles. Built for speed and maneuverability, only the most skilled airmen were assigned to Dragonfly combat squadrons, which, like the insects that inspired the aircraft’s design, were meant to function as agile and deadly aerial hunters.
“Couldn’t have been easy to pilot her in.” Ash eyed the Dragonfly’s wingspan.
Jack laughed drily. “That’s the beauty of a Dragonfly. She can move in ways that most fliers can’t.”
Ash took a few steps back from the aircraft, trying to get a better view of the whole machine. “And she’s completely intact? No defects?”
“I told you she’s perfect,” Jack replied. “Don’t you trust me?”
“Do you really want me to answer that?” Ash said with a chuckle. “I can’t believe you actually pulled this off.” He hesitated before asking, “Are you sure you’re ready to go back?”
Jack turned away from Ashley and looked directly into the shadows where Charlotte lay hidden, her belly pressed to the cold stone and her chin tucked against the lip of the path. “Why don’t you come over and take a closer look, Charlotte?”
10.
FOR A MOMENT, Charlotte considered running. If she made it back to her room, she’d at least have the benefit of a little more time to come up with an excuse for spying on her brother before he caught up with her. But running implied guilt, and Charlotte was determined to justify her actions.
What right did Ash and Jack have to keep a secret like this, anyway? A Dragonfly? In the Catacombs? Charlotte also stung from Ashley’s implied distrust of his sister; hadn’t she done enough to prove her worth to him?
Charlotte stood up and brushed the dirt from her clothes. Trying to appear unruffled despite Ashley’s glower, she walked slowly down the rock slope to the floor of the cavern. She lifted her chin as she faced her brother. Ash’s features were drawn, his lips thin with rage. Charlotte braced herself, waiting for him to berate her, but Ashley startled her by turning on Jack.
“How long did you know she was there?”
The fury in Ash’s question startled Jack as well. He staggered back a step, spluttering, “I, uh, well, I—”
“How long?”
Jack coughed. “I heard her behind us when we turned into the last passage.”
“And you decided not to say anything?” Ash glared at him.
Straightening his shoulders, Jack stared right back at Ash. “You were going to have to tell her soon enough. You’re a stubborn lout for dragging your feet about it. This way was easier.”
Charlotte watched her brother’s face go white as his fists clenched.
Jack gave Ash a measured look and said, “We can have a good tussle if you want, or you can just accept that I’m right.”
The indecision etched on Ash’s features prompted Charlotte to ask, “What do you have to tell me?”
“Stay out of this, Lottie,” Ash snapped without sparing her a glance.
“No!” Charlotte stepped into her brother’s line of sight. “This is about the homingbird, isn’t it? And why Jack was missing when we left the Heap. Tell me what’s going on! Or are you forgetting that Pocky and I kept you from being a feast for rats while Jack went to fetch this big secret of yours?”
Ash scowled at her, but spoke to Jack. “Are you sure you’re ready for her to know the truth?”
Behind her, Charlotte heard Jack sigh. “I always knew it was coming.”
The strain in Jack’s voice pulled Charlotte around to look at him. Her throat closed when she saw the tightness around his eyes.
“Try not to hate me,” Jack said. “It had to be this way. I didn’t want to lie to you.”
Lie to me? Charlotte’s skin felt cold.
Ash buried his hands in his hair and paced beneath the Dragonfly’s wings. As she heard her brother muttering angrily under his breath, Charlotte began to wish she hadn’t followed the boys after all.
“I didn’t come from the Foundry.” Jack’s voice grounde
Jack drew a long breath, his next words coming out in a huff. “I’m from the Floating City.”
Laughter bubbled up Charlotte’s throat. The bright sound died when Jack didn’t crack a smile. He waited until she regarded him solemnly.
“You’re serious?” she asked.
“I’m afraid so,” Jack answered.
Charlotte no longer felt anxious. She didn’t feel anything. Numbness curled around her limbs, stopping her breath. She wobbled, and Jack reached out to steady her, but Charlotte jumped back as if his hand were a striking snake.
Then Ash was beside her, his arm slipping around her shoulders.
“Easy, Lottie,” he murmured. “Let Jack tell his story. Trust me—it’s going to change everything for us. For the better.”
Jack cast a grateful look at Charlotte’s brother, then fixed his eyes upon Charlotte once more.
“I left the city so I could find you.” As the words left Jack’s mouth, he paused, frowning, and then said, “I mean all of you. This place. There were rumors that the children of the Resistance had a hideout north on the river. I hoped to make contact, and I was lucky to run into Ash. Well . . . lucky once I convinced him not to shoot me.”
Ash laughed gruffly. “What’s lucky is that you’re a fast talker.”
“That too.” Jack grinned. “Things in New York are going badly, very badly. There are those of us who want to make a change before it’s too late.”
Charlotte shrugged herself away from Ash’s arm. Now that she’d recovered from her shock, a hard rage settled in her bones. Why should she believe the words of anyone who came from the Floating City? They were all enemies, murderers. Nothing more.