Enchanted Ivy

CHAPTER Eight

One of the stone monkeys on the 1879 Hall arch scampered down the brick wall. Tye scooped him up, and the monkey wrapped its arms around his neck. He murmured to it, and then he replaced the monkey on the wall. It wormed itself back into the carving of monkeys and a lion. A second later, it was motionless stone again.

"Friend of yours?" Lily asked. She was pleased that her voice sounded light. A day ago, the sight of a monkey statue climbing off a wall would have sent her running for her medicine.

"I've known the professors my whole life," Tye said. He waved at them as he and Lily crossed through the arch toward Prospect Avenue. "After my mother died, the gargoyles pretty much adopted me."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I mean, about your mother."

He shrugged but didn't meet her eyes. "It was a long time ago."

She wanted to reach out and take Tye's hand. She didn't quite dare. Instead she walked silently beside him down the sidewalk. Whispers danced in her head, and she brushed the hedges in front of the eating clubs with her fingertips. The whispers spiked into a croon.

"Used to sneak into the classrooms to sleep near the gargoyles," he said. "And I ate a lot of picnics on rooftops. Endured a lot of sunburns. And rain. When your family is gargoyles, you get rained on a lot."

"You slept in classrooms?" Lily asked. "Why didn't the Old Boys take you in? They had to know you were here."

"After the dragon attacked ... well, after that, the Old Boys had less enthusiasm for the magic world, yours truly included," Tye said. "As soon as I was old enough to understand, I kind of took it personally. And I did a few things I'm not proud of. Well, except for the time I nailed their shoes to the ceiling of Vineyard Club. That was rather awesome."

Lily slowed in front of the club. She'd never sneaked in anywhere, not even Grandpa's closet when she'd known it had held birthday presents. (Mom had peeked, reasoning that her brain hiccups would wipe out the memory anyway so it hardly counted.) This, however, was not like peeking at birthday presents, and Grandpa was likely to be much more pissed. "What if they didn't all go to Forbes?"

He trotted toward the door. "Just act like you belong," he said, "which you do."

Squashing down her nerves, she followed him inside.

Silence pressed down on her as the croon of the plants faded. She was shocked that she missed it. She was also acutely aware of the lack of direct sunlight on her skin. Another dryad thing? she wondered.

"Lily?" Tye said.

Standing in the foyer, she tried to adjust to being inside. "Sorry," she said. She pointed toward the stairwell behind the grand staircase. "Downstairs."

They crossed under an oil painting of monklike men at an ornate table. The austere group seemed to watch them pass. Lily felt her heart beat faster. Tye was wrong—she didn't officially belong yet. Her application hadn't been processed. All she had was a promise. She wouldn't really belong until she had that acceptance letter in her hand.

She nodded at the wood-paneled walls. "They keep their swords in there. Secret compartments."

Tye stopped and ran his hands over one of the walls.

"There's probably a hidden"—she heard a click—"latch."

He opened it and whistled low.

Lily peered in over his shoulder. Knives and swords filled every inch. She saw jeweled hilts and plain black serrated blades and sharp foils. Tye checked a second compartment. It held axes and throwing stars, plus more hooks and slots for blades—mostly empty. The third cabinet was packed with jars and packets. "Wolfsbane for werewolves." He pointed. "Garlic for vampires." He checked a silk packet. "Four-leaf clover?"

"For what? Leprechauns? Don't tell me there really are leprechauns."

He was frowning at the clover.

"Seriously? 'They're always after me Lucky Charms'? And did you just say 'werewolves' and 'vampires'?"

Tye replaced the packet and closed the cabinet door. "The four-leaf-clover thing is a myth—the gargoyles should have told the knights. Not a good sign if the knights have stopped listening to the gargoyles."

"Mmm," she said. "Never a good sign if people stop listening to gargoyles." She shot a look at the front door. "Can we move faster, please?"

He executed a mock bow. "After you, my lady."

She led him to the stairs. They tiptoed down past the black-and-white photos of former Vineyard classes. "I think the room's pretty secret," Lily said in a whisper. "Jake didn't seem to know it was here."

"Jake?"

"Mr. Mayfair's grandson," she said.

"Oh, right. Blond pretty-boy."

"He's not a 'pretty-boy,'" she said. "He's a knight." Tye raised both eyebrows so she changed the subject. "The drainer looks straight out of a cheesy mad-scientist movie. Tubes, needles, whirring noises ... it's like a Rube Goldberg device made out of lab equipment." Reaching the taproom, she pointed. The door was ajar, exactly as she'd left it.

Beside her, Tye stopped.

"What is it?" she asked. She glanced at the stairs, half expecting an army of knights to burst into the taproom with swords flashing through the air.

Softly, he said, "I want to be wrong."

"Oh," she said.

Side by side, they stared at the door.

"You know," Lily said, "in a horror movie, this would be the point where the idiot teenagers get eaten by the monsters." She waited for Tye to make a witty reply. He didn't. She added, "I never really liked horror movies."

"Me neither," he said. He squared his shoulders and strode forward. She entered close behind him. Above, a single bulb swung on a string, sending shadows skittering around the room and over the shelves of bottles.

Lily watched Tye's face pale as he scanned the shelves. "This ... it's bad?" she asked.

He swallowed and nodded. "Very bad," he said. "Do you know how many creatures had to die to make a collection this size?"

Die?

"The knights had to drain to death dozens of magic creatures to fill all these bottles," Tye said. He waved his hand at the shelves. "The knights are no different from the Feeders they fight! They've become another kind of Feeder."

Grandpa was not a Feeder. "Maybe no one died. Mr. Mayfair was only going to skim the excess from me." She pointed to the drainer with its knot of tubes. "It could be like a blood bank for magic."

He shook his head. "This ... this is evil."

"Grandpa isn't evil! He'd never hurt anyone." He'd said the procedure was safe. He wouldn't have put her at risk. Lying to her about her heritage was one thing; endangering her life ... He wouldn't do it.

Tye opened his mouth and then closed it.

Lily glared at him. "Grandpa is one of the good guys. They're knights." Grandpa was a florist—you couldn't ask for nicer than works-with-flowers. He was even kind to dandelions.

Tye lifted up a bottle and removed the stopper. He tipped the bottle over and spilled a drop of silver liquid. It beaded on the shelf like mercury. "Pure magic. There's no way the gargoyles know about this. And the council ... I have to tell the council."

Lily felt her voice dry up in her throat as she stared at the silver dot. "That's magic?" she squeaked. It looked exactly like ... She cut off the thought before she could complete it.

He nodded. "In its liquid form, yeah. This ... this thing must produce some chemical reaction to keep the magic from evaporating into the air." He prodded at the glass tubes. "I should smash it."

She caught his arm. "Don't! They'll know someone was in here. Besides, there must be an explanation for all of this." Grandpa could explain. Yes, she just needed to talk to him.

"There's no explanation that could justify this," Tye said. But he quit poking the drainer. Instead, he pocketed the bottle of magic. "The council will want proof," he said. He then wiped away the drop of magic on the shelf with his sleeve. It smeared silver.

Lily tentatively touched the smudge. She studied the silver that dotted her fingertips. She couldn't deny it: It looked exactly like her and Mom's medicine.

Impossible, she thought.

Footsteps thumped from the top of the stairs. Tye swore softly and colorfully. He spun around as if looking for a place to hide. There wasn't one.

"Come on," he said, pulling her elbow.

They dashed out of the hidden room and wove among tables, chairs, and the jukebox. The footsteps began to come down the stairs. Lily thought of her mother on those stairs, pausing to look at a photograph. She slowed. "You go," she said to Tye.

Tye released her elbow. "What?"

Lily touched her hands together and felt the silver liquid slide between her fingertips. She couldn't leave yet. "I'll delay them," she said. "I belong, right? I'll be fine. Go." Without waiting for a response, she darted across the taproom to the stairs. She pounded her feet on the steps as loudly as she could, hoping to hide any sound of Tye.

On the fourth step, she smacked into Jake. He grabbed her arms to keep her from falling backward. "Whoa, slow down!" Jake said.

He released her, and she gripped his wrists as if she needed him for balance. "Sorry," she said. Her eyes slid to the wall with all the photos.

Jake flipped his cell phone open. "Got her," he reported. "She's fine. She returned to the club." Closing the phone, he asked Lily, "Where have you been? Why didn't you follow us?"

"I ... I chickened out," she said. "A few hours ago, I didn't know any of this was real, and now a battle? I've never even seen a fistfight. College is supposed to have professors and exams and roommates, not dragons and knights!" She waved her hand at the black-and-white photos of Princeton knights. She scanned the wall, looking for the picture that had caught her mother's eye earlier. Mom had stopped right about ... Lily spotted it: a class photo with a familiar face. Smack-dab in the center of the photo was a young man in an oxford shirt and khakis who looked exactly like a younger version of Grandpa. He was surrounded by men and women ... except there had been no women at Princeton when her grandfather had been a student, and the hair and outfits in this photo were from the wrong decade. That man couldn't have been her grandfather, though he looked almost identical to him.

Grandpa did have more secrets, she thought.

"Are you all right?" Jake asked.

Lily pointed at the photo. "That's my father," she said. "William Carter. He's Grandpa's son." Her voice sounded an octave too high, but she couldn't stop it.

Her father was Grandpa's son, which meant that Mom wasn't Grandpa's daughter. Her father was Grandpa's blood relation, which meant that Mom wasn't.

Her father was human, which meant that Mom ... wasn't.