“Nevertheless, it will cost us.”
“So you would have allowed him to leave having stolen your work, without even some admonishment?”
Cris shook his head. “I know Sullivan’s type. Malicious, untouchable. It’s better to let those go.”
“I can’t agree with you, Cris,” I said, incensed by his passivity. “It only teaches men like Sullivan that they can walk all over us.”
“Is that what you think I’ve done?” Cris asked, angry now as well.
“I do. Your work should not be free. Those times are done.”
My brother rose from his seat, and for a terrible moment I thought he might come around the worktable and strike me. But then my mother appeared, having heard our raised voices. “Samuel, Cristóbal!” she exclaimed, coming up to me and placing a hand on my arm. “Enough. You will settle this disagreement in a civilized manner.”
Her presence had been enough to calm us, and we fell into an uneasy quiet. I felt the sting of indignation, still furious that Cris would permit himself to be taken advantage of in such a manner. But as the afternoon wore on in heavy silence, I began to see the matter differently. I began to think of the servants at Sullivan’s house who would have to clean his boots and trousers, and the inside of the coach. I considered who was most likely to bear the brunt of my mischief, and it wasn’t Sullivan. Moreover, Sullivan would remember Saddle Street, and he would not remember it fondly; what further vengeance might such a petty man exact?
I couldn’t bring myself to admit that Cris was right, but I no longer felt that my actions had been wise. Was accepting the insults and ill-treatment of men like Sullivan, of men like my classmates at Commonwealth who merrily spilled beer, really theonly recourse? The afternoon was marred; I felt unhappy, for I didn’t like the answer to my own question.
And yet I returned to Commonwealth with all my tokens. I became Byron again. I clung to my deceit, because, like Clem, I prized the study of enchantment too greatly. There, that is all I needed to tell you; now you will perceive how similar we were, despite our differences. We both required peculiar armor to study at Commonwealth.
Sam: Oliver Street
Like a child, the thew must be disciplined into obedience. Once inside the lead case, the captured shroud leaves the spirit vulnerable. Even a slight pressure upon the shroud with the index finger or thumb will awaken a sensation of inner pain and anguish that the spirit finds unbearable. The spirit will then readily acquiesce to commands. In extreme cases, the shroud may be grasped, pinched, or squeezed, although I do not recommend frequent use of this method, as it can leave the spirit in a surprising state of lethargy.
—Elián Erquiza,The Nature of Thews
Friday, September 7, 1888
With the benefit of hindsight, of course, I could see what a fool I’d been for trying to pretend I was something other than myself. And so, while I had no wish to see Clementine foiled in her efforts, some part of me was glad she’d been unmasked. Clem, who seemed to feel none of the ambivalence that I had felt, would likely have spent the entire year comfortably in disguise. But now she would be leaving Commonwealth, and there was some relief in this. Now, I thought, she would be safe.
But I was mistaken. Her journey home disabused me of the error.
I followed Clementine back to the dormitory, where she promptly set about packing her few belongings. It didn’t take long. Everything she owned, other than the autumn cloak, fit in her satchel. Leaving the Brig, she made her way to the university kitchens, presumably to find Vera, but without success. She left a note with one of the other cooks who had come to look kindlyon the friendship and demonstrated as much by giving Quinn a meat pie. Quinn ate it outside, under a withered-looking dogwood, before leaving campus.
I’d expected her to visit Throckmorton, but she made her way directly to the main road bordering the campus and began to walk southwest, toward Beverly. Was she dejected? I could not tell. I sent her a consoling nudge, and she responded with a half smile. “Don’t worry about me,” she said quietly. “I won’t miss any of them.” I didn’t doubt that.
She walked at a comfortable pace in the patched-up shoes. The road was deserted. Towering maples, already beginning to yellow gently, reached over the iron fence to litter the pathway. A bell rang the hour from the center of campus, announcing the end of the class period.
At the corner of the campus, where the private properties with grand estates begin, a child waited—a child who didn’t move like a child. He looked about nine or ten, dressed formally in a suit with black shoes, and he stood with unnatural stillness, watching Clementine approach. Black hair, cut straight across his brows, mirrored the flat line of his mouth. As she neared the child, Clem slowed her steps. The road was otherwise empty. The wind rustled in the branches of the giant chestnut tree that straddled the corner of campus. Distantly, waves crashed against the cliffs. The little boy stood motionless, waiting.
Clem stopped. She spun her cloak into the air overhead, saying“Endurecer,”and as it whirled, the fabric hardened, becoming a long, rigid shield. She held it before her defensively.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” the boy said. He turned away, sighing, and then Cassandra stood in his place. “You can put that down,” she said dismissively.
“It may protect me from another onslaught of pine needles.”
“That wasn’t me.”
Clem let the cloak soften. She held it in her hand, as if prepared to use it again. “Who, then?”
Cassandra looked away. “I’m here to tell you that I did you a kindness.”
“Forgive me if I’m unable to see how. You revealed me.”
“To protect you.”
Clem shook her head. “I doubt that. How did you even know? I was guarding my thoughts.”
“Yes. You are very good at guarding your thoughts.” Cassandra’s face softened. “I knew because with a beard and mustache, you look just like your father. Someone else would have recognized you before too long.”
