The Vulpine, page 7
I let out the breath I had been holding, realizing I was trembling. When I was sure I was alone, I got shakily to my feet and went to the tree, putting a hand to the knot it had touched. It was an ingeniously hidden lever, and I gave it a quick exploratory twist, feeling it turn smoothly beneath my fingers. Before I could realize what I’d done, that same whirring sounded above me again, and the platform gradually descended into view.
I jumped back, half expecting a surge of Vulpine to come charging out of the tree like ants, their claws raised in attack, but the glade remained empty.
The platform settled on the ground, and I stared at it, not quite believing what I was seeing.
I had done it. I had found a place I had only read about in a storybook. I would be able to tell Casta exactly where to find his sister. I glanced at my watch. I ought to leave now, to get back to the hollow and add instructions to the note before Casta arrived.
Except, my feet did not seem to want to move. I stood, rooted to the spot, looking at the tree.
What if I stepped on that platform? What if I went inside their lair? I might find out exactly what had happened to Casta’s sister.
But not just that. Something was stirring inside me, a feeling, a hope. I thought of that hooded brown-haired girl in the book. Could these creatures be my salvation, just like they were hers? If I was being honest with myself, today’s quest to the woods had never just been about the Clare baby, however much I wanted to find her. It had been about me, too. If the Vulpine really did help some Imperfect children, then there was a chance they might take pity on me. And why would that be any less safe than being on the run from the government?
But just as this thought rose, so, too, did the terror of my situation. Up until now, a part of me had still thought of these creatures as characters in a book. Yet I had seen one just now, right before my eyes, sharp clawed and dangerous. My parents had admitted they knew little about the Vulpine. They might indeed be the monsters that I had seen daubed on walls. And if so, what would they do to me? Hurt me? Kill me? Maybe running was safer after all.
But the truth was that even if we ran away from here, my parents would probably not be able to save me. I would only get more and more sick. And then, one day, I would die.
I shut my eyes as the truth of this hit me. I was dying. A slow, painful, cruel death. Better to do it underground like an injured fox, away from everyone I held dear. Better to let my parents continue with their lives without me, rather than risk their own.
I had thought my tears had been cried out, yet now they came again, stinging my poor swollen face. As I wiped them away, from somewhere behind me I thought I heard a rustle, and with a sudden surge of adrenaline, I jumped on to the platform, my heart hammering.
It began to rise almost immediately, as if the change in weight was enough for it to work. I shrank down, holding on to the edge to stop myself from falling, scanning the trees, but I could see no movement. And then I was breaking through the lower branches of the oak tree, and the ground below was lost from view.
I saw with relief that I was still alone, no Vulpine creatures operating the pulley that pulled me upwards. Already, it felt like a different world, a cloud of leaves all around me, the dawn light dappling through from above so that everything murmured with specks of rose gold. The platform came to a gentle stop, settling into place at the heart of the oak. Thick boughs sprouted off in all directions, like the curved arms of a monster. The surface of each one had been planed flat, creating walkways. I turned to look at the great oak’s trunk, and my eyes settled on a huge hole, yawning open like a screaming mouth.
This was it. The entrance I had been searching for.
Carefully, I stepped off the platform. My stomach gave a jolt as I glimpsed the ground far below, but it was not an unpleasant feeling. It filled me with a palpable energy, and, suddenly more confident, I edged towards the hole. There was a ladder here, secured to the inside of the trunk, descending into darkness. Far below, I thought I could hear a faint sound, but it might just have been the blood rushing in my ears.
“You can do this,” I whispered to myself for encouragement, and, with a quick breath, I began to climb down.
The hollow grew darker the further I climbed, until I could barely see my hands as I moved carefully from rung to rung. How far did the ladder go? I was sure I must have passed the ground level by now, my breath coming in tight rasps. The air was beginning to smell different, an astringent, earthy tang where before it had been dense and woody. I was thankful that the rungs of the ladder were wooden, not metal, dampening the sound of my clattering feet as I climbed down and down.
At last, I felt solid ground beneath me. It was still so dark, and I stretched my hands out, touching hard, compacted earth in a tight circle all around me. For a terrible, claustrophobic moment, panic rose in my throat, and I scrabbled at the walls, until at last I felt a gap I had missed, and stumbled forward.
My eyes were growing used to the darkness now. I could make out the walls of a tunnel, wider than I had imagined. Arms still outstretched before me, I made myself creep along. Roots trailed down from above, occasionally brushing my face, making me jump. I was thankful that my feet made no sound on the soft earth floor. I turned a corner, and came to a sudden stop.
I was standing at the entrance to a giant brick-built chamber. High above me, the ceiling was lost to darkness. I could hear the echo of my surprised gasp dissipating into the vast space, and I clapped my hand to my mouth to quieten myself.
Here is the chamber, a vaulted dwelling, I thought to myself, Where Vulpine share their storytelling.
And then I felt something sharp and deadly press into my back, and a terrible voice croaked from the shadows, “Do. Not. Move.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I stood, frozen to the spot. For a split second, I considered trying to run, but I knew it was pointless. I could feel the sharp point of the Vulpine’s claw, pressing insistently at my back, and I forced myself to be as still as possible. I waited, wondering if the creature would slice through my clothes and split me open there and then, spilling my blood on the soft earth floor. But instead the pressure disappeared.
“Turn round,” came the voice again, not quite so monstrous this time. In fact, it sounded almost … human.
Cautiously, I turned, trying not to make any hurried movements, and my mouth fell open in surprise.
This wasn’t some frightening, gruesome creature.
It was a man.
He was wearing a ragged cloak similar to the one I had seen on the Vulpine earlier, the hood drawn up, but deep inside it I could make out a shadowed human face. And then he drew the hood back, and I saw that he was younger than I’d thought, about my age, fifteen or so. His features were fine and sharp, his skin a rich umber, making me think of the fallen leaves of the tree shaped like a figure that I had walked past earlier. He had a shaved head and a silver stud in his nose. I looked at his hands, searching for the sharp talons I had felt at my spine. But instead, I saw normal human hands, a spear clasped tightly in their grip. In confusion, I looked down at his feet, not sure what I would find, and my heart lurched in surprise.
This person did not have monstrous Vulpine feet. But he did not have human feet either. Instead, his legs ended in curved blades.
I took a step back, and he raised the spear again, pointing it at me.
“What did I say?” he hissed, taking a step towards me, perfectly balanced on the arcs of metal. “Don’t move.”
I steadied myself, raising my arms in surrender.
“Why are you here?” he asked, his eyes darting from me to the tunnel. “Are there more of you?”
“N-no…” I stuttered.
“You sure?”
I nodded. “I’m … I’m trying to find a missing baby.”
The boy lowered the spear, and a look of pity crossed his face. “Was it your brother or your sister?” he said.
“What? Oh, um, no,” I said, realizing what he meant. “She’s my friend’s sister.”
“That’s very honourable of you. They must be a good friend.”
I swallowed. “He is,” I said.
“I’m going to need to see your bag,” he said, putting a hand out.
I paused. Everything that was dear to me was inside it.
“Now,” he said forcefully, jabbing me again with the spear, and I handed it to him, bristling with anger. “Come on, then.” He prodded me, pushing me out of the tunnel and into the cavern.
Far above, I had a sense of that vast, curved brick ceiling.
“What is this place?” I asked, momentarily forgetting my fear as I craned my neck to search the shadows. It was so large, I imagined it might stretch almost to the edge of the city. Maybe even under my own house.
“We call it the chamber,” the boy said. “It’s an old, abandoned reservoir.”
“An abandoned…” My voice trailed off, lost to the shadows.
“It was used to store water for the city hundreds of years ago. Now it’s ours.” I felt the prod in my back again, sharper this time. I hurried forward.
“Can I ask about your legs?” I said, not daring to turn back and look at him.
“Can I ask about your big mouth?” he replied, his voice echoing around us, and I stayed silent.
We were halfway across the vaulted hall now, and I noticed a round opening at the other end, dimly lit by a curious greenish glow. As we drew closer, I saw it was another tunnel, this one lined with bricks, like a sewer. The green glow was coming from a small clutch of mushrooms sprouting from a crack in the bricks. There were more of them further along the tunnel, growing in clumps here and there, lighting our way. As we entered, I noticed my hands looked oddly alien in the light, like those of a ghostly monster.
Was this boy taking me to the Vulpine’s headquarters? Did he work for them? Was he one of the children they had taken as a baby, and instead of killing him, they had brought him up to hate humans? Was that what they did – made an army out of the abandoned dregs of society? Were there others here, too, foot soldiers to a legion of fearsome creatures?
“What happens to the children you steal?” I said, bracing myself for the prod of the spear again, but it didn’t come.
There was a pause, and I thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then he said, “We don’t steal children.”
“No, you let the parents bring them to you, like some horrible sacrificial offering. Much easier that way.” I thought I heard him chuckle. “Look,” I said, still moving forward, “I know what goes on down here. I told you: my friend’s baby sister went missing. I used to think that the babies brought here were killed straight away, but you’re obviously not Vulpine, and you’re alive. Which makes me think there’s a chance she is too. And if there is, then I’d like to know. Can you at least tell me that?”
The prod came then, sharp between my shoulder blades, and I felt my lungs complain, shooting pain down my back.
“No more talking,” he said.
We had reached the end of the tunnel now, and I braced myself for what might be waiting for me. We emerged into a small earthen room, about the size of a sitting room. It felt like one, too. I could just make out armchairs and bean bags, and even what looked like an ancient TV in one corner. Surely the hideous creatures that lived down here didn’t watch television? That same green glow was in here too, making me feel queasy, little pools of it radiating luridly out so that it felt like I was trapped in a giant goldfish bowl.
“Atticus,” the boy said behind me, and I wondered if this was some secret password, but then I realized there was someone – or something – in the room with us. It was sitting in a tatty old wingback armchair, facing away from us, its face obscured by the stuffed headrest, and I braced myself for my first face-to-face encounter with a real Vulpine.
But as the figure leant round the edge of the chair, moving into a green pool of fluorescent light, I gasped with shock.
I was looking into the face of a man. But where the eyes should be, the eyelids were pasted shut and sunken, as if the eyes beneath were no longer in the skull.
From behind me, I heard the boy whisper in my ear, “Keep your nerve. He can sense weakness. He can sense everything.”
I straightened my back, my eyes glued to the man as he got up from the chair, turning to face us.
“Hello, Flare,” he said. “And who is this?” He inclined his head to me.
“She got in at the oak, like you said she might.”
I glanced at the boy. They had known I might come here?
“Come closer,” the man with no eyes said. When I didn’t move, he gave a soft laugh. “I won’t hurt you.”
Fighting every urge to flee, I took a step closer to him, and then another. His face up close was noble, the closed eyelids not so terrible now that I’d had a chance to see them properly.
“What is your name?”
I hesitated. Could giving my name be dangerous?
“You are not in trouble. But I would prefer not to call you ‘girl’. It seems a little rude, doesn’t it? Forgive me; we should introduce ourselves, too. I am Atticus, and the boy who found you is Flare. And you are?”
They’re probably only giving me their names because they know I’ll never leave this place alive, I thought uneasily. But if that was true, then I supposed I had nothing to lose.
“Ora,” I said.
“Ora,” he said thoughtfully. “It means prayer, is that right?”
I didn’t answer. Were these people as obsessed with names as the world I had come from? The man smiled as if he could sense my anger.
“What’s so funny?” I said.
“We have had many here whose names have a similar meaning to yours. It seems it was their parents’ last gift: a prayer that their child would survive. Poor, poor skyfolk.” He shook his head in sadness.
“She’s got one of those books,” the boy called Flare said, and I swung round. He was holding my Vulpine book aloft, the rucksack open at his feet. It glowed a deep forest green in the ghoulish light.
“Hey, that’s mine,” I said, striding over to him, my hands clamping into fists, and Flare raised his spear.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve seen one of those,” Atticus said. He sounded surprised. “It’s pleasing to know there are some still out there.”
He began to walk towards me, a curious clicking sound coming from his mouth, like an insect language.
“What are you doing?” I said.
“He’s using echolocation,” Flare said. “It’s how he sees.”
“What?”
Atticus had come to a stop again. “I can hear you,” he said. “You understand I am blind, not deaf, yes?”
“Sorry, I—”
But he put a hand up to quieten me. “It is OK to be curious. I was blinded years ago, when the government gassed the Vulpine’s lair. They could not save my eyes from its poison. So now I use sound to get around independently. Many of us down here use it, whether or not we can see. It is especially useful when we are conserving electricity down here, and on recces above ground at night.”
He smiled, his face gentle, and commenced clicking again, moving his head this way and that, and I had the sudden feeling that he was building a picture of me in his mind.
“You are, what, thirteen years old?” he asked me.
“I’m nearly sixteen,” I said. I had always been small for my age.
“What is your reason for seeking us out?”
I paused. It didn’t feel safe, yet, telling this man about my Imperfection. “My friend’s baby sister went missing,” I said. “I came to find her. To bring her home.”
“Babies never go home,” he said.
I was just about to argue when, from behind me, I heard the sound of footsteps. The boy called Flare turned to look back down the tunnel, and I followed his gaze. Something about the sound felt wrong to my ears. It was a sort of dull, slapping thump, as if the feet of the person approaching were large and ungainly, and I realized I’d heard it before – last night, when I ran home from the hollow. I thought of that clawed hand I had seen in the shadows, gripping the edge of the house.
And then a silhouette appeared in the tunnel, drawing closer, and a hooded creature emerged into the room.
Panic raced through me. This was no boy with a spear or man with no eyes. This was a Vulpine, a real Vulpine, standing right in front of me, huge clawed feet, ragged cloak and all. It might even have been the same beast I had seen outside near the oak.
I stumbled back, my eyes glued on the monster. The Vulpine turned back to the tunnel, yanking on a length of rope behind it; I heard more footsteps, human this time, and a figure emerged, their hands bound, a hessian sack thrown over their head.
“Two intruders in one day,” Flare said with a low whistle. “That’s unheard of.”
“Indeed. And the second one unplanned. It is concerning,” Atticus said, frowning. “And who do we have this time?”
Flare stepped towards the prisoner and pulled off their hood. In the gloom of the tunnel, all I could see was a silhouette, a bowed head, shoulders shaking. The Vulpine gave the rope another yank, and the person lurched forward, falling into the nightmarish green of the room. And even though I could barely see their features, there was no mistaking that shock of familiar curls falling over their face.
“Casta?” I breathed.
“Hey,” he croaked.
He looked terrible. He had a cut on his cheek, and the knee of his jeans was ripped, blood spreading through the fabric, staining it purple. I wanted to run to him, to put my hands on his face and assess every scrape, every bruise, but I didn’t dare move.
“You two know each other,” Atticus said. “Did you come here together?”
Casta shook his head, realizing his mistake when he looked at Atticus’s face. “No, sir,” he qualified. “I had no idea she was here. I came to find this place, and then that … thing caught me.”
