Battle of the Beasts

Will raised a finger to his lips: Shhhh. He placed mashed potatoes and green beans on Brendan’s tray, but took extra time, arranging the serving to make a message for Brendan in green-bean letters: Outside.

Will stepped away from his post and rushed towards the rear exit. The head cook stopped him.

“Where do you think you’re goin’?”

“These working conditions are deplorable!” said Will, whisking off his smock and throwing it on the floor. “I quit!”

Will left with the head cook staring at him open-mouthed and the other workers cheering. No one ever talked to her like that!

Outside, Will met Brendan, who kept his distance.

“Okay, so now you’re showing up at my school in my dad’s clothes, working the cafeteria line … Can you give me one good reason I shouldn’t be totally creeped out?”

“Cordelia’s gone,” Will said.

“What?” Brendan stepped towards him. “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing. She ran away. Something’s wrong with her, a spell—”

“You mean the tooth thing. She told us it was a frozen Snickers. What’d she tell you?”

“Just that it started happening out of nowhere … and it terrified her—”

“So my sister lied to me and not you?”

“That’s not the point—”

“Yeah it is, Will. My sister’s not supposed to trust you more than me!”

“Bren. She needs help. She’s scared. She’s not herself—”

“And whose fault is that?”

“What? … You think it’s my fault?”

“Duh. She’s in love with you. You kinda broke her heart. She’s been missing you since you disappeared.”

“Well, that’s … that’s …” Will struggled for the right words and found them in his past. “There’s one thing I’ve learned from fighting in a war, and sleeping on the street. That kind of experience teaches you a very valuable lesson. Do you know what that lesson is, Brendan?”

“I don’t really care—”

“It’s that problems like love are what you worry about when you’re safe. And right now, your sister isn’t safe. And we need to help her. If you’re not up for the task, that’s fine. But I’m going to find Cordelia and protect her. I thought you were going to help me. Are you?”

Brendan looked into Will’s eyes. He saw the same deep worry he felt in his own gut.

“Fine. Tell me everything you know.”

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Will filled Brendan in as they walked, including the details of Cordelia’s icy skin.

“Sort of sounds like how she’s been acting lately,” mused Brendan.

“What do you mean?”

“Cordelia hasn’t been herself. I mean, she could always be annoying, but now it’s like she doesn’t even care enough to annoy us. All she cares about is this tutoring programme she’s doing at school. Have you tried calling her mobile?”

Will stopped walking. “I’ve been eating out of garbage cans for the last few weeks. How could I possibly afford a mobile phone?”

“I actually see a lot of homeless people with phones,” said Brendan, “but I get your point.” He called Cordelia and waited through four rings. Her voicemail answered. He tried again. Still nothing. But the third time—

“Bren! Bren, I can’t talk right now—”

“Deal, what’s going on?”

“I can’t – I left Will – left the house – not in control—” Her voice was strangely gulped, as if she were speaking while someone tried to drown her.

“Deal, slow down—”

“I can feel it, Bren, it’s inside me—”

“Where are you, Cordelia?!”

“I’m at” – her voice cracked – “where it all happens, Brendan. Where weaving spiders do not come—”

The phone cut off. Brendan tried calling back. It went straight to voicemail. He tried again – same thing. He looked to Will.

“We need to head downtown.”

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Eleanor would have been furious had she known that Will and Brendan were going off on a mission without her, but she was busy with her after-school riding lesson. Her horse riding, which started after her parents got “the settlement”, had become one of the most important things in her life.

Eleanor felt at peace around horses. They liked her; they respected her; she could get the most troublesome ones to walk, trot, canter, and gallop. That gave her a sense of confidence that was missing everywhere else in her life – and it made her feel more grown-up, because she was actually good at something. Plus there was one horse she truly loved: a powerful, shiny thoroughbred, Crow, who galloped so fast that when Eleanor was on him, the world blurred and she could imagine she was back in Kristoff’s books.

Today they practised turns and jumps; Eleanor and Crow worked seamlessly, as if they had discussed their plans the night before. The two-hour lesson felt like it ended almost as soon as it began, with Mrs Leland, the instructor, telling everyone to return to the stables. Eleanor dismounted, still wearing her helmet, and led Crow inside.

“Good job today,” Mrs Leland told her. “You’re becoming one of my best riders.”

“Thank you,” Eleanor said, feeling so proud that she wanted to say something more, to make some grand statement. But her mother taught her to simply say thank you when people gave compliments, to keep it simple.

Mrs Leland looked around. All the other students had gone home. “Eleanor, I have exciting news for you. It’s time for you and Crow to enter a competition.”

“Really?” Eleanor was thrilled – and frightened. She had always dreamed of being in a competition with Crow. But it would be hard work. All the other riders would be really good. Wait a minute, though; what about the times you cheated death like five million times with Bren and Deal? A riding competition is nothing!

“That sounds great,” Eleanor said. “I’m ready.”

“Good to hear,” said Mrs Leland. “I expect big things from you. Oh – here’s your father.”