Come Tumbling Down (Wayward Children #5)(19)

Alexis was the first through the door, followed by Sumi, then Kade, Christopher, and Cora, with Jack bringing up the rear. For a moment the door remained open, showing a narrow slice of Christopher’s basement bedroom. Then it swung closed, vanishing in the same instant, so that there was nothing but the Moors.

None of them noticed. Jack was too busy closing her eyes and breathing deeply; Alexis was too busy tucking the lightning key back into her apron. As for the others, they’d never been to this particular world before, and they were too busy staring.

Ahead of them lay the sea, great and roiling and terrible; something about it called to Cora and repulsed her at the same time, cautioning her that these depths would hold things she’d never seen in the Trenches, things that might not be as friendly as the monsters she’d already faced and defeated. Behind them loomed the mountains, craggy peaks covered in snow and dotted with castles. Kade knew without asking that there would be goblins, of a sort, in those high reaches, and that they would know him if he went to them, if he bowed his head and asked to see their king.

To the right stretched open fields, heading toward some distant village, some unknown monster. And to the left there stood a windmill, and beyond that in the far distance, a village splashed across the hills like it had fallen from some great and unknowable height, watched over by the towering, somehow terrible shape of a castle which seemed to defy all laws of architecture and good taste at the same time. It was a monster in its own right, and when it opened its mouth to feed, it would devour the world.

Sumi looked up and smiled serenely. “Look at the moon,” she said. “It’s like the sugared cherry on the biggest murder sundae in the whole world.”

“Not a bad description,” said Jack. “The Moon and the Moors are connected; She watches over us, and while She might not always approve, She remembers all.”

“That sounds almost like superstition; Jack, I didn’t know you had it in you,” said Kade, teasing to cover his own nervousness.

Jack looked at him blandly. “It’s not superstition when it’s a proven scientific fact. The rules are different here. Remember that, and you’ll be fine. Now we need to hurry.”

“I thought you said we had until the next full moon,” said Cora.

“We do, but the Moon waxes and wanes more quickly here than she does in the world we were all born to: the last full moon was six days ago, and the next will come three days from now. At the moment, however, that is less important than the fact that sunset is approaching, and no one with any sense wants to be caught outside when the sun goes down.”

Christopher blinked slowly. “You mean it isn’t night already?” The world was overcast and gray, and together with the nearness of the bloody moon, it seemed reasonable to assume they were walking washed in moonlight, with no reason for the sun to get involved.

“Night is a much deeper darkness,” said Alexis. “We need to get to cover. The windmill will welcome us.” Unspoken was the fact that, if Dr. Bleak still lived, they would find him there.

“Lead the way,” said Kade.

Jack did exactly that, stepping across the uneven ground with the graceful ease of long practice. The others followed, some more easily than others. Sumi skipped, as carefree as if this were a trip to an amusement park built on questionable design choices. Cora took quick, careful steps, skirting the various gopher holes—which, she suspected, hadn’t really been made by anything as friendly as actual gophers—and questionable vegetation. Christopher, on the other hand, managed to trip three times in the first minute and a half, causing Jack to look at him and mutter caustically about setting records.

The whole time, Cora could hear the singing of the sea. It was a soft, ceaseless sound, and it matched the timbre of her heartbeat, echoing through her entire body. Maybe they could go there, when they were done at the windmill.

Maybe she could touch the waves. Maybe the waves could touch me, she thought, and the idea was and wasn’t hers at the same time, and it was as enthralling as it was horrific, and she kept on walking.

None of the others noticed the growing vacancy in her eyes. Maybe that was for the best; there wasn’t much they could have done about it. Kade fell back until he was walking alongside Alexis. “Hey,” he said, voice pitched low, in the hopes that it wouldn’t carry to Jack. “We haven’t had much of a chance to talk. I’m—”

“I know who you are,” said Alexis, amused. “I know all of you, except for the girl with the ocean in her hair. You’re the stories Jack tells me at night, when my scars ache and I can’t get to sleep. You’re the children of the doors. You share something with her that I never will, and I suppose I ought to resent you for that, but honestly, I’m just glad you were there for her when I couldn’t be.”

“Ah,” said Kade. “I’m not sure how I feel about being someone else’s bedtime story.”

“Everyone is somebody’s bedtime story,” said Alexis. “Most of us just don’t have to face it so directly. I thought you’d be taller.”

“I wish I were taller.”

Alexis smiled, a twinkle in her eye. “Don’t say that where Jack can hear you. She likes any excuse to grab a shovel and get to work.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Kade hesitated before saying, with as much delicacy as he could manage, “The lightning that summoned the door seems to have given you your voice back. Do you know how long that’s going to last?”