A/N (s):
GreatKateZonkeyMachine – More depression. More fear. More cold. This isn't exactly the most Christmas-y Christmas fic ever written, if you haven't caught on by now. For canon purposes, I want to clarify that the trapdoor in the maze was invented for this story and there's no evidence of its existence in the books. The tunnel between the Monk Building and the empty shed, however, is canon; it can be found in books one and three.
Kahlan Aisling – This chapter is, in my mind, incredibly depressing and the hardest one to write so far. Zonkey Machine wrote most of it, thankfully. Enjoy!
-N-O-M-A-N-S-L-A-N-D-
CHAPTER – 3
"Something Wicked"
or, Familiar Faces
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Reynie spent the next quarter hour in a state of shock. He knew he was awake, and he was somewhat aware of everything around him, but it was like he was floating above his own body, watching himself numb without awakening. He knew what was going on, but his mind simply couldn't process it. He didn't notice the cold, or the flames, or the sounds of men searching for him and the rest of the Society. He was exhausted, cold, and emotionally drained. He no longer cared. Mr. Benedict's house, his first real home, had gone up in flames. It had been his sanctuary, his safe place, the one place he could flee to when things went wrong. And it was gone.
He didn't know how long he slept when he awoke, and it took him a few seconds to remember where he was and why he wasn't safe and comfortable in his bed, with Sticky snoring below him and Kate and Constance in the next room. Then he felt the cold and stiffness of a night spent out-of-doors and on the ground, and then it all came crashing back to him: the disturbance in the middle of the night, Mr. Bane, the Ten Men, the Salamander, Kate. And the fire… What callous monsters those men were! The terrible grief that had overpowered him before and forced him to succumb to an uneasy half-sleep was now replaced by powerful rage that scared even him. In that moment he hated them more than Curtain, more than Pressius, more than anyone else on the face of the earth. There weren't many people Reynie couldn't get along with, or tolerate, or even empathize with, but these men... these men didn't deserve to live, didn't deserve his pity or empathy. Tears of anger began running down his face before he had even consciously awoken.
He opened his eyes in an attempt to discern what time it was. He blinked away tears and tried to get a look at his watch. According to it, it was around ten o'clock. Ten... and I haven't been found yet? he thought. I wonder if anyone's found the house...
Thinking about it was too much.
Reynie closed his eyes, but that only made it worse; as soon as his vision was snuffed out, he could see nothing but the horrible red flames, leaping up into the darkness around him and licking everything he held dear into oblivion. Opening his eyes again at once, he suddenly remembered another thing.
"Meet us at the Monk Building as soon as it's safe!"
The instant this memory returned to him, so did the realization that he had no idea how to get to the Monk Building. From the orphanage, yes; from Mr. Benedict's house, he might as well've been trying to find the Fountain of Youth, and he didn't know how to find the orphanage from Mr. Benedict's house either. He screwed up his face, trying to think. If only Sticky were here….
"Right now we're passing under Fifth Street." Under Fifth Street…
He knew where Fifth Street was.
He jumped to his feet—his limbs were stiff and cold—making his head swim, and bolted off in the direction of Mr. Benedict's house, praying to whatever deity was watching over him that the Ten Men had gone. He seemed to be lucky, as the Salamander had disappeared, and he supposed he should be grateful it hadn't spotted – or run over – him. There was still smoke heavy in the sky, and a great commotion was coming from the spot where the house had been burned down not half a day ago. He raised Kate's spyglass and looked through it.
There were two firetrucks and several police cars; as well as a few government inspectors he recognized from past dealings with. As much as he wanted to, Reynie knew he shouldn't go to meet them because he'd be delayed getting to the Monk Building. They would surely question him for at least two hours and would not let him leave, by which time his friends would think something had happened to him... He'd seen Kate worried; he definitely felt sorry for anyone who got in her way. She had all the prowess and passion of her father and none of the caution.
So he gave the premises a wide birth. With the assistance of the false kaleidoscope, he saw that everything – from the chimneys right down to the foundations – was gone, leaving a few piles of blackened rubble in its wake. All of those books, he thought miserably. Our belongings... memories... All the things he knew were floating somewhere overhead in the merciless black cloud. The trapdoor leading over to the cellar across the street was visible, but only to one who knew what to look for. Reynie's stomach squirmed uncomfortably at the inevitable thought of: what if they didn't make it in time? Or worse: couldn't open it?
By the time he reached Fifth Street, the sun was halfway up to the middle of the sky. He had to weave in and out of oncoming traffic on the streets (and once to duck out of sight when a bald man missing one of his eyebrows came strutting down the lane). The city was even more freezing-cold than he remembered, and he wished he'd thought to bring his gloves the night before. The tall buildings flocking the roads made the paths he took regular wind tunnels. The sky was grey and overcast from the snow the day before, and said substance crunched beneath his feet and coated everything you couldn't drive or walk on. Ice made the sidewalk slippery, and more than once he went too quickly on his numb legs and nearly twisted his ankle. Electric lights adorned the buildings, along with seemingly cheerful holiday displays and multiple speakers blaring "I'm Getting Nothing for Christmas" and "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer." It was supposed to be festive, but it just made Reynie more melancholy than ever, especially when he saw the traditional charity worker dressed up as Santa Claus and ringing his bell to raise money for the less fortunate and homeless. Which, Reynie thought with a good deal of depression, he had just joined.
The street was more or less perpendicular to the path he'd taken to reach it. Assuming that the underground tunnel was relatively straight, he should eventually come to the Monk Building if he continued in the same general direction.
He walked that way for awhile, and then saw the top of a tall office building above the roof of a pizzeria. Quickening his pace – he was more than anxious to see whether or not they were okay – he noticed that the front door was ajar. That didn't seem like a good sign. Maybe it was just fear and grief acting up, becoming paranoia.
Maybe. Hopefully. Probably not.
When he walked inside, the most wondrous sensation washed over him: heat. It must be nice to have a fully operational heating unit, he thought sadly, remembering the broken AC that would never be temperamental again.
The Monk Building was empty for the holidays with only a few people there on business, so he felt uncomfortably conspicuous as the blond secretary eyed him from her desk. He blushed and tried to look as if he had a good reason to be there. Shedding his overcoat, he quickly ascended six flights of stairs. When he reached the unmarked door between 7A and 7C, however, he hesitated before knocking.
It was a good thing he did, too. Because a split second later, he noticed that there was a large hole in the wood where the doorknob and lock should have been.
Reynie's heart caught in his throat. He knelt down slowly to peer through the hole, and saw the back of the only man of whom he was more afraid than Mr. Curtain: McCracken, the sadistic and burly leader of the Ten Men. He was ransacking the office in search of hiding children. He upturned a desk casually with one hand, causing a small crash and breaking one of its legs off. Behind him, another Ten Man – Sharpe – punched through the plaster wall.
"Oho!" he cried mirthfully. "McCracken, look at this!"
McCracken turned around unexpectedly, and those evil blue eyes sent an electric shock through Reynie's body. He looked away and pressed his back against the outside wall, taking deep breaths to calm himself and hoping against hope that McCracken hadn't seen him. He couldn't get his heart to stop beating, and he was sure the villains could hear it inside...
"What have we here?" said McCracken in the cool bass tones that always sent a chill down Reynie's spine. "A little secret alcove…"
Reynie closed his eyes and tried not to vomit his bowels. They found the tunnel, he thought desperately, finding it hard to breathe. They found it….
"And there's a door, too," Sharpe intoned with delight. In a few seconds, he had pounded it off its hinges and exposed the hidden passageway. Reynie waited to hear "Oh, there you are, chickies!" or "Sticky, Constance, run – I'll hold them off!" as his heart moved from his throat to his mouth.
But it never came.
"Where do you suppose this leads?" said McCracken.
"Allow me to find out," Sharpe replied.
The Ten Man set down his briefcase and shuffled down the passage.
I hope he's arrested at the other end, Reynie said to himself. The thought made him slightly hopeful that they might actually get out of this alive.
That feeling was promptly extinguished with the sudden opening of the office door.
Fortunately for Reynie, he had been very close to the door when it swung towards him, so it pushed him away, propelling him out of McCracken's line of sight. He just had time to dash into the room next door before the Ten Man looked behind his own door. He half-tumbled into the tiny office. Breathing laboriously, he got to his feet trembling and peeked outside, McCracken looked both ways and retreated back into room 7B. Reynie sighed his relief.
"Excuse me," said a grouchy voice right behind him. "May I help you?"
Reynie wheeled around, but then saw that it was only a squat, dark woman with bags under her eyes, sitting at her desk in front of an ancient computer. "Uh, no," said Reynie. "Sorry – just playing hide-and-seek."
"Well, this is no place for horseplay. Now shoo, before I call security. Take your friends with you!" she yelled just as Reynie was shutting her door.
Looking back through the hole – with more caution this time – Reynie saw McCracken pick up Sharpe's briefcase and, muttering about "as bad as Crawlings," run down the passage to give it to his partner.
Reynie waited one…
two…
three…
four…
five…
six…
seven…
eight…
nine…
ten seconds before stealing quietly into the office. The disguises were no longer hanging on the wall, but strewn across the floor. There was a pile of soil with a sad-looking fern in it, next to a broken planter's pot. Ripped paintings and upturned furniture were propped chaotically against the walls. Reynie's fists clenched at the Ten Men's utter destruction of Mr. Benedict's property. As if his home wasn't bad enough!
Anger gave way to dread as he thought of something else. If his friends were not here, and they were not in the passage, then they must have… have…
No, Kate would not break a promise to him, especially such a serious promise as this…unless she was... was dead. Reynie felt numb. He put a hand to his forehead and staggered as the weight of this prospect hit him. What would he do now? He might have been able to survive on his own, but without his friends, what point was there to life? Without his family?
"Reynie?" said an extremely metallic, incredulous voice from just above him. Reynie, not expecting it, jumped and backed away with a small cry. "Sorry," it continued. There was the sound of quick unscrewing and the call "Catch!" and the vent above him completely slipped its moors. Reynie caught it and put it aside as the face of Kate Wetherall appeared, frantic and looking even more nervous than when he'd last seen her. Her hands and arms, devoid of her bright red sweater, appeared first, and then as they fell her head, shoulders, torso, and finally she slipped out entirely and landed with her hands on the ground. Her bucket was too bulky to fit, so it didn't come out with her. She flipped rightside-up and took it out of the vent, but it was without her ordinary cheer. Following her was a very red, very hot Sticky Washington, who stood on tiptoe to reach Constance and help her down.
"Are…you guys…insane?" Reynie whispered, weakly but happily.
Kate did not smile. Rather, she looked more indifferent than Reynie had ever seen her before. This Kate... this Kate was ready for battle. She rebuckled her bucket fiercely. "I couldn't find anyone, Reynie," she said, her voice trembling a bit more than she probably would have liked. "No one at all. Not even Number Two, and she's always up."
"They're just... gone?" he said weakly, his throat catching with the last word. He realized that he'd been counting on Kate to make everything right, to solve everything, because there was nothing Kate couldn't do.
Kate nodded. "And I couldn't search thoroughly because they were inside. They came swarming in through the windows. I don't know why the alarms didn't go off, someone must have disabled them. I couldn't –" it seemed hard for her to state what she couldn't do, "I couldn't fight them all off, so I crawled into a vent and made my escape to your room. I woke Sticky and told him to go to the trapdoor while I gathered up Constance, but he was frightened so he went with me." Sticky found his toes very interesting at that part, but he didn't say anything or otherwise react. Constance looked as she always did: indignant. However, there was a trace of distress in her eyes. "We almost didn't get it open, it was nearly frozen shut. By that time the fire had already started – you saw the fire, right?"
Reynie nodded. His heart had risen again into his throat as he heard her account. Scared pricklings went up and down his spine, as if a Ten Man was aiming a laser pointer straight at his neck. He glanced back quickly, just to be sure, and was both relieved and unnerved to see no one. He felt a little shameful facing Kate again, but she ignored it. In fact, she was looking at him like she was waiting for orders.
Realization dawned on Reynie. Kate was only really good when it came to action, to moving and carrying out plans. But she couldn't strategize for the long term; she had no idea what to do next. Without Reynie, she was as lost as he was without her.
"We should get going," Reynie said, wondering if he was saying the right thing. "Those Ten Men will be back. Maybe our friends are already at the police station and waiting for us," he added without much conviction. Mr. Benedict wouldn't do that, he knew. He wouldn't leave the children to fend for themselves, however well they might have planned. It wasn't in his nature to do such a thing; in fact, Mr. Benedict was reluctant to let them do anything without supervision or an assurance of complete and utter safety. This whole thing stank of a red herring; but Reynie didn't know where the lake was.
"Yeah," Kate agreed, without any emotion at all. She was ready to carry out any orders she saw sense in.
As they walked out, she asked, "How did you know it was safe to come in?" She was walking first, keeping a fierce eye out for anything out of the ordinary. Their ears weren't reliable, Reynie knew – not in the least. Not if Mr. Curtain was around with his noise-cancellation technology. Kate's hawk-eyes were needed in a time such as this.
"They burned a hole through the door," Reynie explained. "I looked through and came inside after I saw them leave."
"Am I glad you did," replied Kate. "That air vent has restricted visibility. I had no idea where they were until you came in. Otherwise I might've come down any old time, and then where would we be?"
"Dead," Reynie said blankly. For some reason, it didn't bother him to state it.
Kate shuddered. She never shuddered, but she did this time.
"Hey," Reynie noticed. "Why aren't you and Sticky wearing warmer clothes, Constance?" That was bad – judging from the extreme temperatures outside, thin clothing – even the flannel nightclothes the two were wearing – wasn't going to cut it. He'd nearly frozen dressed as warmly as he was.
Constance looked down at her red raincoat and scowled. She opened her mouth to say something, but Kate interrupted. "There wasn't time," she explained for the toddler. "We had to get out of there ASAP."
"And now your winter clothing is gone." Reynie stopped walking in his anguished reverie, staring without seeing through a grimy window on the stairwell. This is bad, he thought. Really bad. As in, Battle of Breed's Hill bad. We won, because we got away, but we might as well not have.
Kate put her hands on Reynie's shoulders and tore him away from the window. He didn't resist, instead letting her guide him away to one of the janitorial closets and sit him down. Kate and Sticky sat down beside him, but Constance refused to touch the disgusting floor.
Moods are contagious. That's just the way of them. It only takes one person to say they're scared, and then everyone else is, too. With the Society, the mood went even deeper. They were so attuned to each other and the world around them that, if one of them was feeling worried and it showed even a little bit, it would spread to everyone else. Kate had let herself be worried, and now everyone else was, too.
"Reynie, everything's going to be fine," Kate said.
"We'll find everyone," said Sticky, sounding a lot more confident than he probably was. "We'll rebuild. We'll defeat Curtain once and for all."
"Come on, George Washington," Constance said in a huff, "we'll never beat him. All the horrible things he's gotten away with! And that's just in the past two years. Who knows what he's done before that? He's invincible."
Kate glared at her and might have slapped her if Reynie hadn't spoken at that moment. "She's right," he said glumly. "We'll never defeat Curtain. He's just too powerful."
"You can't say that!" Kate yelled, slamming her fist on the floor and forgetting that she wasn't supposed to be loud. Sticky shushed her, looking frantically from the door to Kate and back again. "You can't say that," she repeated in a quieter tone. "We've beat 'em before and we'll do it again."
"We're hanging on by a thread," said Reynie. "How could we possibly win when we've basically lost already?"
"We haven't lost," said Kate emphatically. "We got away. It may have been pure luck, but we were ready for them."
"They may have the upper hand now, but we're still fighting, aren't we?" said Sticky, trying to boost his spirit. "It's not over yet. The Reconquista took eight hundred years."
"But we won't be running from the Ten Men for that long," Kate assured Constance, seeing her horrified expression. She looked around at her friends, and their hopeless faces frustrated and depressed her. "We're the Mysterious Benedict Society, for crying out loud," she said forcefully. "We're not gonna let him get away with this!"
Sticky nodded fervently, but Constance continued to fume and Reynie just stared off into space in a manner resembling shock. "What do we do?" he finally asked, looking away from their faces because he knew they would look shocked at him asking them what to do.
"We can't go to the authorities," Kate said immediately.
"What?" said Sticky, deflated. Then he added, somewhat indignantly, "Why not?"
"Well, there's no way in hell Milligan would just leave in a situation like that, especially without telling me," Kate said resolutely. "And I'm confident I got to Number Two's room before the Ten Men did, unless they launched some secret attack before the fire. So that pretty much rules out them being kidnapped."
Reynie exchanged a fleeting, skeptical glance with Sticky.
"Which must mean they left some time last night, before the attack. If whatever they were doing was so top-secret that they couldn't even tell us, I don't think they'd want a bunch of detectives trying to find out about it. And that's why we can't go to the police yet: We have to make sure their secret isn't compromised," Kate continued, sounding more like an adult than she'd been in a while.
"Okay, so we know what we can't do," Constance said with a slightly quivering lip. She was on the verge of frightened tears. "What can we do?"
"I think," Kate mused, "we should focus on food, clothes, and shelter for the time being."
"I'm with her," Reynie said for the first time in a while. "Right now, our number one priority needs to be eluding capture and staying together."
"But where are we staying?" said Constance, her voice becoming shrill and high-pitched. "Where are we sleeping? I am notliving like a hobo!"
"Sorry, Connie-girl," said Kate consolingly. "Looks like we're gonna have to for a while."
Things looked bleak to Reynie. The phrase something wicked this way comes flashed through his mind, though he couldn't at the moment remember who had said it, who had written it down and made it famous. But it perfectly described their situation at the moment.
Us versus Curtain, Reynie thought. And Curtain appears to be winning.
Stonetown was one of the largest metropolises in the world. Their friends could be anywhere…as could their enemies. The Mysterious Benedict Society looked out into the hallways of the Monk Building and felt totally, consummately alone.
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After answering many questions and a great deal of insisting that he knew nothing, Mr. Bane slinked away from the scene of the arson at Nicholas Benedict's home. Though it was ten below, he was perspiring. He scratched his neck nervously.
He walked away, leaving the blackened rubble and the inspectors behind, their sounds growing faint. He thought of a nice cup of hot whiskey, something to congratulate himself and ease his nerves. There was nobody around; at least, he didn't think there was—
An enormous man came out from behind a tree and stepped in front of him. "Good morning, Mr. Bane."
Mr. Bane stumbled back and let out a small squeal. "McCr-Cracken!" he cried. "I d-didn't see you there."
McCracken laughed. "I should hope not."
"What is it?" said Mr. Bane uncomfortably.
"Well, you see, Mr. Curtain isn't very happy with the way this whole project turned out." McCracken half-grinned, in a you-know-how-the-boss-is sort of way. "He was expecting there to be something in the house when we searched it."
Mr. Bane looked at him with a mixture of fear and puzzlement. "What do you mean?"
McCracken set down his briefcase and gave Mr. Bane a small, patient smile. "Did you tell them we were coming?" he asked calmly.
Mr. Bane blanched. "Tell them! No. Of course not!"
"Then why was the Whisperer gone?"
"Gone? But it was…"
"The Whisperer was not inside the house, nor was a single human being."
Mr. Bane started backing away. "I told you…"
McCracken walked forward. "You told us that Milligan would be away, but you didn't say everyone would be away."
"I… I didn't know," said Mr. Bane feebly.
"Where is the Whisperer, Mr. Bane? Where are the children?"
Mr. Bane swallowed. "I don't know."
McCracken looked at him and sighed, a small, amused smile playing on his lips.
Mr. Bane gulped again, and rubbed his neck.
"Mr. Bane, is something wrong with your throat?" McCracken asked. "It seems to be bothering you."
"What? Oh, no…"
McCracken flipped up his collar, loosening the tie around his own neck. "You failed us," he said reproachfully.
"I—"
McCracken was slowly unknotting his necktie. "I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I'm afraid Mr. Curtain has decided to…" He chuckled. "…let you go."
McCracken pulled off the tie, revealing a serrated, jagged-tipped metal hook on the end. He waited until Mr. Bane realized what was about to happen, and then swung the tie like a whip. The hook ripped open Mr. Bane's throat. Mr. Bane gasped and fell on the ground, unable to utter a scream. McCracken smiled at him with his very white, perfect teeth.
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