Scar Island(31)

Gregory and Roger grunted in, tugging the dreaded Sinner’s Sorrow between them. They dragged more than carried it, and when they’d managed to pull it close enough to Sebastian, they leaned against it, gasping. The raindrops dripping down the dark wood looked like blood in the cloud-darkened light seeping through the windows.

Sebastian shoved James roughly toward the dripping Sinner’s Sorrow.

“How many pieces did you eat?”

James gulped and looked out at the other boys. Again, all the eyes dropped.

“Um, like, one or two, Sebastian, but I—”

“One or two?” Sebastian reached in his pocket and pulled out a handful of shiny gold wrappers. One by one he let them drop to the ground. “One. Two. Three. Four.” He cocked an eyebrow and raised the sword to point it at James. “One minute per piece for stealing. And one minute per piece for lying to me. Eight minutes on the Sorrow.” Tears pooled in James’s eyes. His bottom lip began to quiver.

“The watch, Benny,” Sebastian said, holding out his hand. Benny handed over a tarnished silver pocket watch. Sebastian looked out again at the gathered boys. “Who wants a room? One just became available. It’s got a window and everything. Doesn’t it, James?” James sniffled and nodded miserably. “Okay, who wants it?”

There was a tense moment of silence. Finally, the kid named Reggie raised his hand.

“I’ll take it.”

Sebastian smiled like a snake and tossed Reggie the watch.

“Keep him on there for eight minutes, Reggie. I’m getting lunch. Make sure he doesn’t cheat and make sure he stays on the whole time. If he gets up, the clock starts over. Then the room’s yours.”

Reggie nodded and stepped hesitantly forward.

“Get on there, James,” Sebastian said, lowering his sword and turning toward the kitchen.

“Wait.” Colin’s voice stopped Sebastian cold.

“Thith ithn’t right. We never voted on thith.”

The muscles in Sebastian’s jaw rippled and he took two slow steps toward Colin.

“Mind your own business, Colin.” Sebastian’s eyes flickered over to Jonathan, then quickly back to Colin. “This is fair. He stole from me.”

“You thaid there were no ruleth.”

“Well, Colin, I guess there’s at least one. Don’t mess with me.” He gave Colin a long, steady glare. “Next time you talk back to me, you get the Sorrow, too.”

Sebastian stalked off toward the kitchen. The rest of the boys stood for a moment, awkwardly watching James kneel down reluctantly on the awful device.

“I’ll start the clock,” Reggie said quietly. When James whimpered and sniffled, Benny and a couple of other kids laughed. They spun some chairs around and settled in to watch James wiggle and moan. Jonathan swallowed down a sour sickness and turned away. Most of the other boys did, too. A few wandered outside or into the kitchen, their eyes held carefully away from James’s torment.

Colin stood beside Jonathan, pale and frowning.

“Thith ithn’t right,” he repeated.

“Just leave it alone,” Jonathan whispered. “It’s not a big deal. If you stop pissing him off, you’ll be fine.”

Colin looked back over his shoulder at James shaking on the Sinner’s Sorrow, and the three vultures watching him from their chairs.

“I don’t think tho, Jonathan. I don’t think tho.”





Jonathan shuffled through the pitch-black corridors, his eyes on the uneven floor before him and his ears listening for the skittering sound of rat claws on stone. He held a tall white candle in one hand. He gripped the candle tight, his palm sweaty. His body didn’t like being that close to the hot flicker of a flame. Neither did his heart, for that matter. He steadied his shaking as best he could and pressed on through the darkness.

He ducked under the now-familiar rope gate and descended the stairs, pausing for only a second to listen at the narrow passage that dropped down to the Hatch. Then he climbed the other staircase and retraced his steps to the closed door of the library.

Again, light showed from beneath it. And, again, low humming sounded behind it. He took a breath and then knocked on the door. The humming stopped, and the door creaked open.

“Ah,” the librarian said, with a raise of his bushy eyebrows. “It’s you. Again. Come in.”

Jonathan entered the lighted warmth of the library and let the door close behind him.

“Back for another book?”

“Um, no. Just to look, I guess.”

“Are you reading? Robinson Crusoe?”

“Yeah. A bunch of us are. It’s pretty good.”

“Yes. It is.” The librarian turned and walked back among the shelves. Jonathan followed, the candle still in his hand. He stepped quickly away when he saw the giant rat, Ninety-Nine, atop a shelf at his shoulder, sniffing and stretching toward him with his nose. The librarian saw and smiled.

“Oh. Don’t mind him. He just wants. To be petted.” The librarian reached back an arm, and the rat scrambled up it, his claws catching in the woolen sleeve, and curled up around the librarian’s neck.

“What is the Hatch?” Jonathan asked abruptly. The Hatch—the sound of its violent knocking and sloshing, how deeply it lurked in the darkness of the prison like a shameful secret, with the skull standing silent guard—had haunted his thoughts since he’d left it.