Hush, my darling,
Don't fear, my darling,
The lion sleeps tonight.
– "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" by the Tokens, adapted from the original song "Mbube" by Solomon Linda
Jake
There was no blood on her mouth. That was part of what made it so terrible. There was no evidence of what she'd just done.
«Why?» I said.
«Because you have enough on your conscience,» she said. «I wanted to spare you.»
«That's not your job.» I was shouting, I realized. I didn't care. «You didn't have to!»
«No. It was my choice. Jake,» she said, sounding lost. «I just wanted to protect you.»
I ran toward her, touching our heads together. I began to demorph. She followed my lead. As soon as I grew arms, I embraced her. Her flesh shifted grotesquely under my arms. I held on. Merl and Abi appeared beside us, an ibex pressed against an antelope's side. I felt a tight grip on my shoulders. Rachel had hands again. We were human.
Only then did I hear the desperate sobbing.
Rachel and I turned as a unit toward the sound, still holding on to each other's shoulders. Cassie had fallen to her knees, still holding David in her arms. Marco stood beside her, staring down at his pale face, his mouth still upturned with the smile of a boy reunited with his parents. I knew why Cassie was crying. Of course I did. This had all been her idea, and now she was holding the boy whose murder she'd so carefully planned. But in their morphs, Cassie and Marco didn't look like murderers shell-shocked by what they'd just done. They looked like parents mourning their dead child. Their lack of dæmons added something ghoulish to the sight, broken things mourning a dead thing.
"Cassie," I said. "Let him go."
Cassie just sobbed harder.
"Cassie, you have to let him go," I said. Merl moved toward her slowly.
She clutched him tighter, rocking back and forth.
"Cassie," Merl screamed, her voice echoing through the abandoned warehouse, "we have to do something about the body!"
Cassie let the corpse tumble to the ground. It splayed out grotesquely, its limbs twisting in a way no living body would. She curled in on herself as if she'd been struck a mighty blow. Marco leaned against a wall of the crate and vomited bile. After a few more dry heaves, he demorphed. The clothes he'd found became loose on him, the sleeves trailing past his hands. He looked like a kid playing dress-up in his dad's clothing.
Rachel and I exchanged a look. I wanted to be there for Cassie, but Marco needed me. Rachel could comfort her in my place, maybe even better than I could. I nodded toward Cassie, signaling her to go. "Get her away from the body," Merl whispered to Abi.
I went over to Marco. Dia was a boa constrictor wrapped around him under his too-large clothing. I clasped his biceps, where I saw no outline of Dia's body through his shirt. "Come on, man," I said, tugging him away from the acrid, stinking puddle on the ground. "Come on. We're not done yet."
"Jake," said Marco, his voice rasping horribly. He didn't resist my pull, but he didn't cooperate either. "I wanted to kill him. I wanted it so badly, after he – what he did. But now that he's dead, I don't think – I didn't really want to kill him."
"None of us did," I said.
I saw Marco's eyes flick to Rachel, who was sitting on the floor next to Cassie, herself again, clutching her friend's head to her shoulder. Quincy, bat-formed, was on Abi's head, covering his eyes with his spread wings. Tears were running silently down Rachel's face. Despite everything, I was pathetically grateful that Rachel had killed David in my place. Not only could she hold herself together, but she had enough in her to be there for Cassie too. She was stronger than me.
"None of us did," I repeated.
Ax and Tobias came in. Tobias was demorphed, perched on Ax's back. I couldn't read any particular expression on their faces in the light of the single bare bulb hanging from a ceiling beam. But Ax and Tobias are private people, and Andalites and hawks are hard to read. The fact that Tobias was perched on Ax's back, talons twined in his fur, said a lot by itself.
«Prince Jake?» Ax's thought-voice was soft, subdued. «How shall we dispose of the corpse?»
Dispose of the corpse. The words made it sound so impersonal, like we were cleaning up an inconvenient mess, not covering up a murder. It wasn't part of Cassie's plan, or if it had been, she hadn't told us. I stared at the body. I could morph tiger and drag the body to the woods, but we were too far from the woods. Someone was bound to notice. We could morph moles and dig a grave, but someone would notice the upturned soil. I could ask Ax to chop the body into pieces so we could each carry pieces away in raptor morph, but there would be blood, so much blood that the thought of it made me dizzy.
"We could just leave it here," I said, finally. "It's not like we've left any of our own fingerprints."
«Just leave it here to rot until someone finds it? That doesn't seem right,» Tobias said.
"Nothing about this is right," I said.
I was surprised to hear Cassie speak. Her voice was harsh with sobbing, but evidently she'd heard our exchange. "There might be another way."
"What?" I said.
"I'll call Aftran. She already knows." Cassie hiccuped and wiped tears away with the back of her hand, clutching Rachel's shoulders with her other arm. "She could use Delia's holograms to hide him. She has a dog parkland in her basement just like the Kings. She could bury him there. No human or Yeerk would ever find him, not with Chee protection."
"Do you think Delia would agree to this?" I said. "Because I don't think Erek would. He'd be too horrified by – by what we've done." My voice cracked on the last word.
"It's not in violation of her programming. She wouldn't be doing violence, just... well, cleaning up after it." She swallowed hard. "She might not. But she definitely won't turn us in to the police."
The police. For some reason, I'd never even thought of that. If anyone found out what we'd done, we'd be arrested. We'd go to jail for who knew how long. Until, of course, the Yeerks took over and enslaved or killed everyone in jail.
«There's a pay phone three blocks south of here,» Tobias said.
"Anyone have a quarter?" Cassie said.
Horribly, I wanted to laugh. Here we were, figuring out how to get rid of a dead body, and Cassie didn't have a quarter for the pay phone.
"Yeah," said Marco, reaching into the pocket of his too-large pants. "I brought one just in case."
Just in case what? Merlyse wondered. That doesn't even makes sense.
Nothing makes sense, I thought, still wanting to giggle in sheer desperation.
Cassie took the quarter. Rachel said, "I can come with you."
"I'd rather talk to Aftran alone," Cassie said. I didn't protest. We were in a bad neighborhood, but it wasn't like Cassie couldn't defend herself.
As Cassie left, I realized I was staring at the body, and that I'd sat down, hard. Merlyse was a sand fox in my arms. I couldn't look away from David. He looked like a discarded doll, like you see in the bins at Goodwill.
It's not like we haven't killed anyone before, Merlyse thought. I'm sure we've killed human-Controllers before. We kill Hork-Bajir all the time, and they're people too. So why is this different?
Because we planned this out, step by step. Because we looked him in the eye and pretended to love him as we killed him. Because he was just a kid. Because he was just like us, forced into a war he didn't have any choice not to fight.
But Jake, said Merlyse, what if everyone we kill is just like us?
I thought about the story Tobias told us about Dak Hamee and the Hork-Bajir, how they'd fought for their freedom and lost. They really were like us. But when we killed them, we wrote it off as a casualty of war. How could I feel so awful about killing someone who clearly wanted to harm and kill us, but feel not much worse than usual about killing innocent Hork-Bajir who were forced to kill by the Yeerks in their heads? I wanted to tell myself that Cassie felt bad about killing Hork-Bajir, that she had it right, but I knew it wasn't true.
I was making myself sick. What kind of person was I, who mourned killing sociopaths more than killing innocents?
«The blame does not lie with you alone, Prince Jake,» said Ax. I tightened my grip on Merlyse and didn't turn around. «You took on responsibility for him when you made him an Animorph, true. But the responsibility for his actions ultimately rests on his tail. He was given a great gift and a great opportunity: freedom, and a chance to fight for his parents' freedom. He chose to use that gift to his own advantage, and to cause suffering and death. He dishonored himself and his family, when he chose not to fight for them.»
"It's not that simple," I said. But at the same time, I could see what Ax was saying. I was taking this so hard because I felt that things should have gone differently with David. Could have gone differently, if I'd made the right choices. But instead he had ended like this, as a broken doll in an abandoned warehouse. And we, who had chosen to save him from a life of slavery, had made it happen.
I sat there staring into nothingness for a while. I couldn't tell you what everyone else was doing. Probably the same thing. More than anything, I wanted to go home and sleep, but I wasn't naïve enough to think that sleep would ever come.
Some immeasurable time later, Cassie came back. "Everybody go home," she said.
"What?" Rachel murmured. She sounded very far away.
"Go home. Aftran only wants to deal with me. I came up with this plan. Clean-up is my responsibility." There was a horrible, harsh laugh to the word 'clean-up.' "I'll call you if anything goes wrong. Go home."
I looked into Cassie's eyes. They were distant, stony, but determined. I began morphing owl. The others followed suit.
As the warehouse grew vast around me, I saw Ax raise his tail and strike the single bare lightbulb he'd wired up and hung from the warehouse ceiling beams. The light went out, and glass shattered across the floor. Just another broken thing in the ruin of the warehouse.
I followed Marco into the dark. It was only when the others had flown their separate ways that Marco noticed I was staying with him. I hadn't been able to protect him from David, but I could do this much. I could fly him home.
«What are you doing, man?» he said. «You should go home.»
«Marco,» I said. «I think you need a friend tonight. So let me be one.»
«I can make it back on my own.»
«I know you can. But that doesn't mean you should.»
«Fine. If it makes you feel better,» said Marco, and I knew that I had won. He was never going to admit how wrecked he really was. He doesn't like to be a victim. But at least he could accept my support when I offered it.
The only light on in Marco's house was a faint one coming from his dad's bedroom. He was awake, but he wouldn't notice the sound of a bird landing on carpet. Marco flew in through the open window and demorphed. I wasn't going to demorph myself, but then I saw that Dia, wrapped around his leg as a coral snake, had uncoiled herself enough for her head to point toward me. I hadn't seen her anything less than glued to Marco since the rape. Even if they couldn't ask for it aloud, they needed human contact.
I demorphed. As soon as Merl materialized as a sand fox, she touched her nose to Dia's.
"So," Merl whispered. "We did it. We saved the world."
"And we got rid of him," said Dia. She tried to sound fiercely satisfied, but instead it came off hollow. After all, we'd killed Kirianor by doing nearly the same thing David had done to Dia.
We'd killed David, all right. But I didn't think Marco and Dia were rid of him yet.
"You can call me whenever," I said quietly, "if you want to hang out."
"You don't even need to say it, man," Marco whispered back. "I've always known that."
I can never quite believe it when Marco speaks to me like that. Like I'm the best friend he could possibly have. Like I'm actually a leader worth believing in. But I treasure that loyalty, even if I don't deserve it.
I morphed back to owl and flew home, and to whatever dreams might await me.
Cassie
I didn't have to wait long for Delia to arrive; she had a car and there wasn't much traffic this time of night, especially not in this neighborhood. Still, every second stretched into uneasy hours as I perched on a scraggly tree in owl morph and kept watch. It wasn't likely that someone would just happen across this particular warehouse and find David's body, but if it did, I had to be ready.
No one came, though, leaving me alone with my thoughts. It had worked. The plan had worked. What did that say about me? What made me so good at planning a murder? And what made me so good at hiding my poison behind a mask, whispering sweetness into David's ear as I held him in my arms, my instrument of murder well-concealed?
Rachel isn't an instrument of murder, said Quincy. She's a person who made a terrible choice, just like us. And don't say it was easier for her. It wasn't. I can't believe otherwise. It wasn't.
I didn't notice the car pull up, but my sharp owl ears heard a voice whisper: "I'm here, Cassie."
I steeled myself. On the phone, I'd told Aftran to explain everything to Delia, and evidently Delia had agreed to help. But I wasn't ready for her scrutiny or her judgment. How terrible it must be, I thought, for a pacifist to come to the aid of someone who just murdered a child.
That "someone who just murdered a child" didn't feel like me. It felt like somebody else on my team whose tracks I was here to cover. But it wasn't anybody else. Even Ax, Tobias, Marco, and Jake, who hadn't planned this out or dealt the killing blow, couldn't pretend they weren't responsible. We were all a part of this, and me perhaps most of all.
«I'm outside the warehouse in owl morph. I'll meet you inside,» I said. I swooped in through the broken frame of a window and perched on the edge of the crate where we'd hidden ourselves. My owl eyes cut through the darkness, seeing the spray of shattered glass on the floor and the horrible pale shape of David's body.
I didn't see Delia come in, but I did hear a voice softly say, "Oh." It occurred to me that despite the Chee's long lives, they probably don't see death very often. They keep away from scenes of violence and murder by nature. I wondered when was the last time Delia had seen a murdered child. "Aftran said you had to do this," Delia said, her voice flat. "She believes you."
«Maybe there was another way.» I answered her unspoken question with a trembling voice. «But if there was, I couldn't see it. If there was, I'll be the first in line to damn myself.»
"I'm not sure I believe you," Delia said. "But I still think you are Earth's best hope to defeat the Yeerks. So I'll help you. The car is parked on the street right in front of the main entrance to the warehouse. Get inside and demorph."
I wanted to help – it was my responsibility, after all – but I didn't argue with Delia, for fear she'd change her mind. I landed on the curb just a stretch of weeds away from the warehouse entrance and hopped forward on my talons. I found something hard just below neck-level: the bottom of Delia's car, its door left open. Of course, with the hologram, there was no danger of anyone trying to steal it. I hopped up. Inside the hologram, I could see the interior of the car. I demorphed, wedged between front seats and the back, until I pulled myself up into a seat and closed the car door.
I heard a clunk as Delia opened the trunk of the car, then a thump. I shuddered, imagining the body landing limply in the trunk like a sack of meat. The shudder turned into an uncontrollable shiver that wracked my whole body. I curled into a fetal ball, my teeth chattering. I heard Quincy's bat wings rustle as he shivered too. I felt like I might pass out.
Delia opened the front door of the car and got in. Inside the hologram covering the car, her chrome body was bare. She'd left the key in the ignition. She closed her metal fingers around the key, turning it. The engine started and rumbled beneath me. I imagined David's body quivering with the vibrations from the engine.
We're in a car driven by a robot with the boy we just murdered in the trunk, Quincy thought hysterically. I closed my eyes and cupped him in my hands, pressing him to my chest, my body curled inward around him. I didn't bother with a seatbelt, though normally I would never ride without one. I didn't care. Even if the car crashed, I could just morph and fly away from the wreck. It took more than a car accident to kill an Animorph. I knew exactly how much more than a car accident it took to kill an Animorph.
While time had passed interminably slowly while waiting for Delia, the ride to her house compressed into almost no time at all. The car stopped moving, the engine turned off, and a voice said, "Come out, Cassie." It took me half a minute to even recognize the words as English. I slowly uncurled from the fetal position, put Quincy on my shoulder, and opened the car door.
I couldn't see Delia, and looking down I found I couldn't see myself either. So I just walked to the front door, and when I reached for the doorknob to open it, my hand went straight through. Delia had already opened the door and replaced it with a hologram.
I stepped through. From inside the hologram, I could see the open door, so I reached out and closed it. When I turned around, I could see Delia all in stark chrome, David's body on her shoulder in a gruesome fireman's carry. My vision swam, and I had to swallow hard to fight back nausea. I felt as if his body were filling the corridor with a graveyard stench, even though it was fresh and couldn't be giving off any smell.
Delia walked toward a door next to her kitchen that in any other house would have led to a cellar. In her house, it opened into an elevator that brought us down into a doggy parkland, just like the Kings had under their home. But unlike the other times I'd been to Delia's underground dog park, we didn't get swarmed by slobbery tongues and wagging tails. I might not be able to actually smell David's body, but the dogs could, and they kept their distance. I was glad. I wouldn't have been able to handle the dogs' uncomplicated joy.
She walked out into the park in what seemed to me a random direction. She found a spot in the shade of a tall tree and laid David's body down. I tried not to focus on the way his limbs and neck bent at horrible angles.
I swallowed, wetting my throat enough to form words. "Do you need help?"
"I can bury him myself," said Delia. "But if Quincy turns into something that can dig, it'll go faster."
"I'd like to," said Quincy, "but I can't."
"What do you mean?" Then Delia said, "Oh."
"No," I said. I scooped Quincy off my shoulder and held him in my hands. "Quincy, you can't mean that."
"I mean it and you know it. You just haven't been paying attention. I've been taking this form almost all the time and you don't want to face it." He curled his lips back, revealing fangs. "Here it is. I'm a vampire bat. I don't know what it means, or if we even want to know, but it's the truth."
"A thing that flies out at night to suck blood? That's who I am?" I didn't want to have this conversation in front of Delia, but it was all spilling out of me.
"Something wrong with being a parasite, Cassie?" It was Aftran speaking, not Delia, quietly and with a bite of bitter irony. "Did you want to be something noble? A predator, maybe?"
"There's nothing wrong with being a parasite," I said automatically. "They're just doing what they have to, to stay alive."
"Except when it's you who's the parasite," said Aftran. "Then it's twisted. Wrong."
"Of course it's twisted and wrong!" I shouted. "I just murdered a boy and now I'm settled! I've turned into a monster and this is proof!" I held up my hands and brandished Quincy at her.
"I'm afraid," said Quincy, not looking at Aftran. "This is what I am, but I'm afraid of what it means. I'm sorry."
"Cassie," said Aftran. "He's been taking this form most of the time for as long as I've known you. This is from before David."
"It's been in me all along? Is that what you're saying? This... whatever this is?"
"Yes," said Aftran. "I've been in your head. You've always been able to read people, to know what they want. And you've always used that ability, one way or another. You've used it to encourage the others and find their strengths, and to support them when they're weak. And you've used it to your enemies' undoing. But you've used the morphing power that way, too."
"This wasn't war, Aftran," I said, looking at David's body. "This was murder."
"And what would have happened if you weren't who you are? Would the others have been able to stop him? Maybe. Or maybe David would have killed them, or worse than killed them. And if you weren't this way, you would use some other aspect of yourself as a weapon. That's what happens." Aftran fixed her blank chrome gaze on me. "Go home, Cassie. You're in no state to help. We'll bury him and leave a marker. Call me when you're ready to see me again."
I wanted to argue. I wanted to argue with Aftran, with Delia, with my own dæmon, with the universe for putting me in a trap where murder was the only way out that I could see. But no one wanted to listen. So I went up in the elevator, walked to the second floor of Delia's house, opened a window, and flew out into the night. It was a relief to be in owl form. I didn't have to look at Quincy and wonder what his form said about me. He didn't have to look at himself and wonder.
I flew in and landed behind the barn to demorph. I went inside and finished my chores for the day, throwing myself into the mindless routine of cleaning cages and changing bandages on injured animals. I cooed to the wounded animals as they cried out and struggled in pain at the change of bandages, even though I felt like crying out in pain myself.
When I went inside, the house was dark. My parents were asleep, or reading quietly in bed. I went upstairs, brushed my teeth, and changed into pajamas. It was only when I was already in bed that I realized I'd never turned the lights on in my room or the bathroom. Quincy's echolocation had guided me through my nighttime routine.
I did that last night too, Quincy said.
I didn't notice.
There's a lot of things you haven't noticed. Go to sleep now. The sooner this day is over, the better.
The sooner we sleep, the sooner the nightmares come.
Could they be any worse than what actually happened?
I couldn't argue with him on that. Anyway, the nightmares were only what I deserved. If I were able to sleep soundly, that would have me far more worried. I drifted into sleep, the moonlight blurring into the harsh light of a bare bulb shining in an empty warehouse.
I woke to the bray of my alarm. My sheets were clammy with sweat. I had had a nightmare about my mother holding me and stroking my hair while Quincy buried his fangs in David's neck, sucking him dry. I couldn't bear the thought of going to school. I had to go to school.
By the time I got downstairs for breakfast, my dad was already in the barn starting the day's work. My mom was spreading jam on her toast. I muttered good morning, going through the motions of sticking bread in the toaster and eating a nectarine while waiting for my toast.
"Cassie, honey," my mom said as I sat down with toast and a glass of milk. "I think we need to have a talk this afternoon."
I froze. "A talk? About what?"
"You're not in trouble. Your father and I are just a little worried about you."
Have they noticed? Quincy wondered. He wasn't sure what it was they might have noticed, but it had to be something.
"I'm fine, Mom. I've just been busy lately," I said, buttering my toast. Even as I said it, I knew it had to sound like a lie. After the night I'd had, I looked terrible. The bathroom mirror had revealed an ashen tinge to my face that the shower couldn't wash away.
"We'll talk later," Dashiell said, his little rodent eyes fixed on Quincy.
I finished my breakfast and tried not to think about anything. My mom dropped me off at school on the way to the Gardens. I went to my locker and got out my binder for first period trigonometry. On the way to homeroom, I passed Rachel's locker. Abineng was in his huge sable antelope form, turning the traffic through the corridor into mayhem.
In the middle of the chaos, Quincy flew over to Abineng, landed on his head, and said in his ear, "You too, then?"
Abineng was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Yeah. Me too."
"Is there something wrong with us?" said Quincy. "I mean, I feel like there must be, settling after… that."
"If there is something wrong with us," said Abineng, "then it went wrong well before all of this. Maybe ever since the construction site."
"What will everyone think, when they find out?"
"They'll say all kinds of stupid things. You know how people are."
"No, I don't mean everyone," said Quincy, gesturing at the crowded corridor with a wing. "I mean the others."
"It still doesn't matter," said Abi, a sudden ferocity in his tone. "They don't decide what this means. That's for us to figure out for ourselves. Rachel and I have already started on that. So don't wonder what they think. You know yourself better than anyone."
"There's too much to think about. Too much. I can't do it now, with… what just happened."
"There's always something terrible happening. Sure, this is worse than most, but you never know what'll come next. If you don't figure it out now, then when?"
I had finally gotten past the press of people, and Quincy had to move on to keep up with me. But Abi's words lingered. I didn't really want to know what our settled form meant. But I couldn't run from myself forever.
Marco
I should have been happy he was dead. That's what I kept telling myself. After what he did to me, I should have been dancing on his grave. But that's not how I felt at all.
The last few days had been a blur of terror. I hadn't really had time since the night David attacked me for it to really sink in. All I could think about was how we were going to save the world leaders from infestation and stop David from murdering us all or selling us out to Visser Three. But now that he was dead, it was all I could think about.
When Jake left me and I finally went to bed, I didn't dream about the murder. I dreamed about his hands. Not the single hand he'd wrapped around Dia's throat, but hands everywhere, more than any human being could have, stroking Dia from head to tail tip, thrusting fingers into her mouth, tightening in my hair, pinning me to the ground, reaching into my chest and caressing my internal organs one by one.
It's a good thing I sleep on my stomach. My pillow muffled the sound of my screams.
I woke up an hour before my alarm. I couldn't tell you what I did or what I thought about for that hour. I just lay there, Dia wrapped so tightly around me I could barely breathe, staring at the ceiling until my alarm finally went off. The sound of it was so jarring and sudden that I nearly fell off my bed in terror.
I took a shower, Dia still wrapped around me. Normally the shower woke me up in the morning, got me ready to face the day. But this morning I was both too tired and too awake. I was so bleary-eyed that I nearly poured myself a bowl of my dad's nasty shredded wheat cereal instead of my Cocoa Puffs, but when Dad dropped his spoon on the floor with a loud clatter, I was so startled I practically jumped out of my skin.
"Take it easy," Dad said. "Just my spoon."
"Right," I said, settling back into my chair. "Sorry."
"You seem stressed lately, Marco. What do you say we do something together this weekend?"
I blinked at him until the words penetrated my brain. My dad and I, doing something together. Well, it was probably better than anything else I would have done that weekend. "That sounds OK," I said.
"You're sure? You don't have any plans? You always seem to be out somewhere."
"I'm sure." If Jake wanted me for anything, I'd tell him to shove off.
I walked to school and went to homeroom without seeing any of the others. It was better that way. Seeing how terrible they looked would have reminded me of how terrible I felt. I sat at the back of the class in homeroom as usual and waited for the crackle of the intercom.
"Good morning," said the principal.
Everyone in class started whispering to each other. Usually one of the secretaries does the morning announcements. If the principal was doing them herself, there must be something important.
"I just spoke with Officer Quiñonez from the police department," the principal said. "One of your classmates, ninth grader David Finley, has been reported missing. He was last seen on Friday last week."
The whispers intensified. "Hey, Marco," someone hissed. "Weren't you with him at lunch on Friday?" I ignored it all. I took a piece of paper out of my folder and started making a paper airplane. If everyone thought I was preparing for a prank, they'd stop asking questions.
"If you know anything that might help us find David," the principal went on, "please talk to any of your teachers, me, or Mr. Chapman. I know some of you may be frightened. I understand. The school counselor will have her door open all day if you need support. Now, if you have sports practice this afternoon, please remember that all practices have been relocated to…"
I tuned out the rest of the announcements and sent my paper plane sailing across the room. It hit a sparrow dæmon who was flitting around, spreading gossip. He screeched and gave me a dirty look. I pasted a smug smile on my face. Meanwhile, my brain buzzed with half-formed thoughts. Will Dad notice that – how long will they – will I ever be able to – why can't this be over?
When announcements ended, everyone rushed out toward their lockers. I was about to join them when my homeroom teacher said, "Marco? Can I talk to you for a minute?"
I stopped in my tracks and tried not to look guilty. Then I realized it didn't matter. Even if I did look guilty, the teacher would assume it was because I'd played some prank and I was worried he'd give me detention. I'm Marco the Clown, after all.
"What's up?" I said, stepping up to the front of the classroom.
Mr. Kasdan looked at me over his spectacles, while his gecko dæmon flicked her tongue at me thoughtfully. "A few of us saw you hanging out with David last week."
I hunched my shoulders. Dia retreated under my shirt so only her mottled python head showed from under my sleeve. "Yeah," I said.
"Did he say anything to you? Anything out of the ordinary?"
An ugly laugh bubbled up in my chest. I fought it down and said, "No. Just normal stuff. We only just met."
"No idea where he might be?"
Nope, no idea, I thought. You see, I'm not sure if I believe in hell. "No. He just… talked. That's all."
"All right," said Mr. Kasdan. "I thought I might ask, just in case. And Marco? If you think you need to talk to the counselor, there's no shame in that. I know it must be strange, to know the boy you just met went missing. But remember, there are people you can talk to."
"I'm fine," I said. "It's just kind of weird, that's all."
"OK. You can go on to class, then," said the teacher.
I finally got away. Honestly, all I wanted to do was open a window, morph osprey, and fly away. I walked down the corridor without really seeing anything of front of me, and almost ran headfirst into Abineng. He was blocking half the hallway with his huge antelope form. I drew myself short. Rachel met my eyes.
Suddenly, I was brought back to last night. To David in my arms, crying with joy. To the smile on his face as he breathed his last when Rachel's loving embrace turned deadly. He'd died happy, while Rachel and Abineng did to Kirianor something not so different from what David did to me. In that moment, I wanted to strangle Rachel. How could she do that to David and let him die happy, when David did it to me and I had to live like this?
What? Would you rather he died suffering, knowing what Rachel was doing to him? If she'd done that, how would she be any different from David? And if that's what you would have wanted, then how are you different from him? Dia said.
The wave of hot anger washed away, leaving me with only tired grayness inside. Really, I thought, I owe Rachel. We all do. I'm not sure any of us could have done what she did. I'm not sure I would have made it quick.
It was more than he deserved, Dia said. But it's not about him. It's about us. We're the survivors, after all.
My focus on the world around me returned. Rachel's expression was troubled. I wasn't sure if she was worried for me, or if she was just thinking about her own problems.
She's got plenty of problems. Why do you think Abineng hasn't changed out of that form? Dia pointed out.
Can you imagine settling after that? She must wonder if this is a special form for psychos and murderers. I had the sudden impulse to tell Rachel that she wasn't a psycho. She may be a murderer, and I may joke about her being a psycho all the time, but she wasn't. Even after this, she wasn't.
The bell rang. I walked around Abineng and went to class, and tried not think about how long the hours would be.
Rachel
They're safe, recited Abineng, a mantra all through breakfast as monkey-formed Zyanya struggled to tie Sara's shoes and Jordan complained about the brand of cereal Mom bought. We did it. They're safe.
It was almost enough to keep me from hating myself.
Caedhren watched Abi all morning. I think he's noticed that Abi doesn't change anymore, but he didn't say anything. I'm glad. Neither of us communicated in anything more sophisticated than grunts and mumbles.
I didn't freeze up or act guilty during the announcement in homeroom. I didn't even feel guilty. I didn't feel anything at all. I wondered, distantly, what Officer Quiñonez would think if he knew David had been murdered by his classmates. By Rachel, the star student.
I went to my locker and sorted through it for my history binder. Abi startled a little when someone nearly ran into him. I turned around to see Marco, looking like death warmed over. And for a second, just a second, there was something like hatred in his eyes.
It took Abi an instant to figure out why. We killed David by getting to Kirianor. By violating him, like he did to Jordan. Almost like what he did to Marco.
For the first time since I'd walked through the front door of the school, I felt something. I felt everything all at once. Anger, at myself for not realizing how the murder would make Marco feel. Disgust, at how far we'd stooped to David's level. Horror, at the thought that David had died smiling in Marco and Cassie's arms, never knowing what I'd done to him.
The bell rang, and I got my stuff for class. I couldn't be mad at Marco. I had no idea how it felt to be raped, so I couldn't judge him for how he reacted. If anything, I was mad at Cassie, for coming up with a plan that was both more kind than David deserved and more cruel than any of us could bear. But at the same time, I was grateful to Cassie, because what I might have done to David otherwise probably would have been even worse.
I was awful in class that morning. In history class, we learned about the assassination of Lincoln. I wondered if John Wilkes Booth felt the way I did after he killed the president.
John Wilkes Booth seems like he was totally nuts, Abineng said.
In my head, I laughed bitterly.
I was looking forward to lunch, if only for the chance to zone out without being yelled at for it, until Chapman stopped me on the way to the cafeteria.
"I'd like to see you in my office, Rachel," he said, beckoning to me. I broke out in a sweat. Had David managed to sell us out before he died?
That doesn't even make sense, Abineng said. If he'd sold us out to the real Visser Three, why would he fall for a fake one?
It was a stupid thought, but the kind that's hard to avoid when you're an Animorph. "Um, OK," I said.
Chapman raised an eyebrow as he led the way to his office. "No need to worry. You're not in trouble." He opened the door to his office and gestured for Abi and me to go in first. I sat down in the chair across from his desk, while Abi stood behind me, his head lowered so it hovered over my shoulder.
Whatever I was expecting, it wasn't that the lanyard on Chapman's neck would open as soon as he sat in his chair. His dæmon, a brown ferocious-looking insect called a gladiator, fell neatly from the lanyard onto Chapman's desk. She said, "Abineng, I've noticed you've been taking this antelope form of yours exclusively."
"Yeah?" said Abi, guardedly.
"Do you have something to tell me?" said the gladiator.
Abi and I looked at each other. We had both known this day would come. We couldn't walk around the school like this forever. But we hadn't thought it would come so soon, or from Chapman of all people.
"OK. Yeah," Abi said. "I guess it's time to move downstairs."
"You make it sound like a prison sentence," Chapman's dæmon said. "First off, let me offer my congratulations. Settling is a major milestone in life. Second, our students who take classes on the basement floor are no different from any of the other students. The teachers are the same – some of our staff take one period of the day downstairs. You can take electives, as long as you use the elevator to get to class instead of the hallways and stairs. You can even eat with your friends in the cafeteria – your lunch period will be timed to start five minutes before everyone else, so you can move comfortably through the cafeteria and sit at a table by the elevator before the crowd comes in."
I knew all of that. I'd seen the kids with big dæmons sitting at the tables by the elevator. But they seemed to form their own clique, because they spend all day together. I didn't want to spend my time with them. I wanted to be with Cassie and Melissa. But I guess they'd just come to me. They would do it for my sake. But what if Jake had some important news to pass on? He wouldn't be able to pass casually by my locker and let me know. This made life more complicated. "It's all right, I guess," Abi said. "I can handle it."
"You can go to your classes as normal today," said Chapman. "Tomorrow morning before class, drop by the guidance counselor and get your new schedule. Then go to your new homeroom downstairs."
"I'll do that," I said. My mind wasn't really there. Now that I had thought of how taking classes downstairs would affect how Jake could let me know about meetings and missions, I thought of other problems Abineng's settled form would create. I needed to talk to him.
"I know this is a big transition in your life, Rachel," Chapman said. "You can talk to the school counselor if you need support. Or you could come to the Sharing. We have workshops for young people who've just settled, to help figure out what it all means."
I reached up and tightened my fingers in Abineng's dark fur. "I'm fine, Mr. Chapman. I like Abineng the way he is."
Abi looked at me fondly. I really was at peace with what his form meant. I'd read about it, I'd thought about it, and I'd figured out what it said about me. More than anything, I wished he could have settled at some other time. It might have actually been a joyful occasion, if I didn't think of attacking David in the schoolyard every time someone mentioned Abi settling. But that wasn't about the form itself. It was about becoming an adult in a time of war. Because I couldn't pretend I was really a child anymore.
"You can go ahead to lunch now. Let me know if you have any questions or concerns," said Chapman.
I left the office and went to lunch. I was late because of Chapman, but that ended up being a good thing, because the line for food wasn't so crowded, and I knew Cassie would save me a seat at her table anyway. I sat down across from her, earning glares from the kids in the table behind me. I don't think it's physically possible for me to have cared less.
Cassie swallowed a mouthful of food. She looked up at me. There were deep circles under her eyes. "What kept you?"
"Chapman," I said, stabbing broccoli with my fork.
"Chapman? What happened?"
"Nothing to worry about. He's just sending me downstairs."
"Downst – " That was when Cassie looked, really looked, at Abineng. After a long pause, she said, "Oh."
"Yeah," said Abi. "It's called a sable antelope."
Cassie put down her spoon and leaned toward me. "Us too."
I looked at Quincy. He was a vampire bat. As he had been for a few weeks now. The form he'd started taking after they met Aftran. "I guess it's not surprising," I found myself saying.
Cassie looked haunted. "What does that mean?"
"Cassie, look. The people we are now – we've been becoming those people for a long time. Since before…" I gestured vaguely. "All of this. But I guess something has to tip the scale. And whatever else you can say about us, you can't say we're kids anymore."
"I couldn't sleep," Cassie whispered. "After I came home from Delia's place. I worry there's something wrong with me, settling after… that. I'm still not sure I'll ever be able to look at Quincy without thinking about how he got to be the way he is."
"If there's something wrong with Quincy, then the same thing's wrong with me too," Abi said.
"I'm not saying there's something wrong with you," said Quincy.
"Really? Because it sure sounded like it."
Quincy flew over and landed on Abineng's head. He whispered, "I'm the one who came up with the plan. I'm the one who made this happen. You just did what I asked you to do."
"No," said Abi. "We're all responsible. We're all a part of this. I won't let you take all the blame. So face it: we're both screwed up. But that doesn't mean we were wrong to settle as we did."
"I want to believe that. I really do," said Quincy. Then, in the barest of whispers, he said, "I was thinking of visiting the grave Saturday morning. Do you want to come?"
I stared at Cassie, surprised. Then I realized: if Delia's basement was anything like the Kings', there would be plenty of room for a grave.
I don't want to see it, Abi thought.
I think we have to, I thought back.
"OK," I said. "I'll come."
To stand over the grave of the boy we'd murdered.