Song Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One - RECKONING

  Chapter Two - VIEW

  Chapter Three - ATTACK!

  Chapter Four - RETALIATION

  Chapter Five - TORTURE

  Chapter Six - ROAD

  Chapter Seven - MEETING

  Chapter Eight - ALARM!

  Chapter Nine - EYES

  Chapter Ten - GROUNDLINGS

  Chapter Eleven - KEY

  Chapter Twelve - WALL

  Chapter Thirteen - LAIR

  Chapter Fourteen - REUNION

  Chapter Fifteen - PLAN

  Chapter Sixteen - ENEMIES

  Chapter Seventeen - GUARDS

  Chapter Eighteen - CAGE

  Chapter Nineteen - CHOICE

  Chapter Twenty - GIFT

  Chapter Twenty-One - SONG

  Chapter Twenty-Two - ARMY

  Chapter Twenty-Three - MOTHER

  Chapter Twenty-Four - BRIDGES

  Appendix - Beezlenut’s Guide to the Afterlife

  GROSSET & DUNLAP

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  For my dad who, unlike Mr. Spines,

  has always been a very good father.

  I’d like to thank my wife, Nancy, for her

  unending support, love, and encouragement.

  I would also like to extend a special thank you

  to Brooke Dworkin, who is a wonderful editor

  and someone who understands the

  Woodbine very well. Thank you for making

  the journey with Edward and me.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  When faced with the daunting task of writing a series about the Afterlife, I needed to find some unique sources of inspiration. While doing my research, I spent a lot of time in downtown Los Angeles, finding an endless resource to mine in “The City of Angels.”

  “Angel’s Flight,” the funicular train, is currently being restored to its early grandeur, and is definitely worth visiting if one has the inclination. The car that Edward slept in while escaping from Mr. Spines in book one, Wings, is on the right side of the tracks.

  The Bradbury Building—headquarters for the Jackal’s minions and a place most certainly inhabited by Groundlings—is not far away. The building is very mysterious and was built by an architect who consulted a Ouija board before accepting the job.

  But one of the primary sources of inspiration that helped me visualize what I needed to write was an unusual type of music. “Shape-singing,” or “Sacred Harp” singing, has been around for a long time, but was a new and exciting discovery for me. Its strange, otherworldly music helped me shape the Woodbine and its inhabitants. If anyone would like to get a sense of what Guardian singing sounds like, I would recommend recordings like “The Golden Harp,” “The Last Words of Copernicus,” and “David’s Lamentation.” It was through continued listening to these songs that the world beyond ours was made visible to me.

  I hope that you, dear reader, enjoy this third book in the Mysterious Mr. Spinestrilogy. Personally, writing this series has been a source of tremendous joy and comfort. I have lost more than a few loved ones in the last five years and writing about the Woodbine provided me with an imaginary landscape in which I could see a few of them again. Al the Boatman was my friend Alan Sommerfeld. The Blue Lady was based on my own mother, Barbara. Susan the Faun makes a very small appearance and is based on my sister-in-law, Sue, and Charlie Hoof, the Groundling who owes Mr. Spines a favor, is based on my grandfather, Charles Potts.

  It is my dearest wish to see them all again someday, and also to meet some of you who I won’t have had the privilege or opportunity to talk to during this lifetime.

  On that happy day, find me at the Dancing Faun. I’ll make sure to have Jack and Tollers save a place at my table for you.

  Blessings,

  Jason Lethcoe

  April 2009

  Chapter One

  RECKONING

  A blistering wind blew over the sea of yellow grass. Four shadows, dark against the brilliant blue horizon, slowed to a stop. Bones, the leader of the mechanical centaurs, turned his face to the wind and inhaled. There was a slight whistle as the air filled the holes where his nostrils should have been. He paused and pulled his hat lower, casting a shadow on his skeletal features.

  “Macleod,” he hissed. The horseman turned, maneuvering his equine body to face his comrades.

  The other centaurs were no less horrifying than their leader. Blades, the biggest of the three, had the lower half of a plow horse and the upper body of a battle-scarred warrior. He was dressed in scarlet and wore a huge, pitted ax at his belt.

  Blight was dressed in rags, and very thin. Her eyes blazed with an unhealthy light, and her stringy hair whipped in the breeze like a tattered flag.

  Bugs, the fourth centaur, was lumpy and misshapen, his face a mass of twisted metal and rusted parts.

  The centaurs were all powerful beings, but there was no mistaking who was in charge. The others obeyed Bones, for his unique power to extinguish life enabled him to end any argument and lay to permanent rest any challenger.

  “How far is he from here?” Blades demanded in a flat, electronic voice.

  “Two nights, maybe three,” Bones replied.

  “We have him now,” whispered Blight.

  “None escape the Four,” agreed Bugs. His single, electronic eye surveyed the beautiful countryside, and his mechanical brain clicked with possibilities. Pestilence and plague followed wherever he went, and he delighted in the prospect of finding more beauty to ravage.

  At a signal from Bones, the Four turned as one and set off. The pounding of their iron hooves created huge, billowing clouds of dust behind them as they thundered across the broad valley.

  Edward Macleod had no idea what was coming. And even if he had, there wouldn’t have been much he could do to stop them. They were the Four. And they could not be defeated.

  Chapter Two

  VIEW

  The icy wind stung Edward’s cheeks as he flew higher and higher. He was
trying to reach an altitude he’d never attempted before. He glanced to his left and right, watching as his long, black wings pushed against the wind, forcing their way through the powerful currents.

  He felt strong. This was a new feeling for him. Until recently he’d been nothing but a gangly, insecure fourteen-year-old with a terrible stutter. But now, as he soared above the clouds, gazing down on the green valley below, Edward felt like that part of him was long gone. It was no accident that he’d sprouted wings. He was a Guardian, a protector of mortals. And here in the Afterlife, he was at home.

  Edward gazed down through the clouds at the mountain peaks. The ground below seemed miniature. If he squinted he could just make out a valley with a log cabin and a string of tepee-style huts next to it. From this height, they looked like a row of thimbles.

  Edward smiled. It was Cornelius’s Valley of the Blue Snails, a secret place that most residents of the Afterlife didn’t believe existed. But Edward had found it with the help of his father’s ring.

  If only he were here and could see me now, Edward thought wistfully. His father, Melchior, would have been proud to see how accomplished at flying Edward had become. After all, his father had been an important Guardian once, before the fall that had stripped him of everything, including his wings.

  It had been a tremendous sacrifice, but Edward’s father had done it for Edward’s mother, a mortal. He had been willing to pay any price. And pay he did, making a deal with the Jackal to join his evil army in exchange for a chance to be with Edward’s mother. But Melchior had had second thoughts. He’d regretted signing the contract that required him to hand his firstborn son over to the Jackal. When the time had come for him to fulfill his end of the contract and join the army, he’d run away with his wife and newborn son, hoping to escape the Jackal’s notice.

  But there was no way to outrun the Corruption, a disease that turned fallen Guardians who refused to serve the Jackal into warped, twisted creatures. The disease had transformed Edward’s father into a shrunken, spiny creature. Ashamed, and concerned for his family, Melchior had left Edward and his mother. But it had not been enough to protect them. A clause in the contract had led to the untimely death of Edward’s mother, and the Jackal’s henchmen had been after the boy ever since. Melchior should have known that trying to outsmart the Jackal was foolish, but he’d been blinded by his love for Edward’s mother.

  His mother. She was why, after unexpectedly sprouting wings at his boarding school in Portland, Oregon, Edward had found his way to the Afterlife. He had been told that she was there and needed his help. Now he knew that his mother was a prisoner in the Jackal’s Lair, the most dangerous place in the Woodbine. And although everyone in the Woodbine told him that it would be impossible to get in, he was determined to rescue her from the Jackal’s clutches.

  Edward pondered his situation as he flew higher. It had grown colder, and the air was getting thin and difficult to breathe. Just a little farther, he thought. He wanted to see how high he could push himself.

  After a few more minutes, his back began to ache and little ice crystals formed on his ebony feathers. Edward knew that he’d nearly reached the limit of his endurance and wouldn’t be able to keep climbing much longer.

  Preparing himself for the long glide back down to Earth, and anticipating the wonderful feeling of riding the air currents, Edward turned his gray eyes away from the infinite heavens. Gliding was much less work than forcing himself against the wind.

  As his long body drew a graceful arc in the air and turned downward, Edward spotted a glittering speck on the horizon. At this distance, he couldn’t tell if the figure was a bird or a Guardian.

  Maybe it’s Tabitha!His Guardian friend was the best flier in the Woodbine. Wouldn’t she be impressed to see how high he was! Edward flapped toward the speck, eagerly anticipating the meeting.

  As he drew closer, his powerful wings faltered.

  Roiling black clouds punctuated by intermittent flashes of lightning filled the sky behind the other flier. Turbulence caused his wings to lose their lift. His stomach flip-flopped as he struggled to maintain his course.

  The approaching figure seemed undeterred by the storm. As it grew larger, Edward could see that it was moving through the buffeting winds with greater ease than he was. He could see now that it wasn’t Tabitha. Whoever it was, was a much larger and more powerful being. For a moment, Edward thought it must be Jemial, the huge Guardian warrior he’d met shortly after he’d arrived in the Woodbine.

  But then a flash of lightning revealed a shiny silver object in the figure’s hand. Edward gasped, realizing what it was. A chill deeper and more penetrating than the icy winds he’d been fighting filled his bones. Grasped in the powerful figure’s hand was a pair of long-bladed scissors, a weapon carried by the one person Edward dreaded more than any other. It was Whiplash Scruggs, one of the Jackal’s most fearsome commanders. And Edward knew with a terrible, sickening feeling exactly why he was carrying the silver shears.

  Edward tried to turn back, but the wind was howling all around him and the storm was closer than ever, making any maneuver difficult. He strained, pushing himself as hard as he could against the forceful gale. The heavy wind battered his wings, slowing his progress to a painful crawl. His heart hammered in his chest. He had to get away!

  He glanced back and saw, to his horror, that his bulky enemy was directly behind him. He could see the man’s piggish features clearly now. Scruggs’s pointed teeth were bared in an animal snarl, and his piercing blue eyes bored into Edward’s own with hungry anticipation.

  Suddenly Edward felt a hand close around his ankle. Then the voice he dreaded more than any other shouted in a terribly familiar Kentucky drawl, “You’re mine, Bridge Builder!”

  Edward thrashed, kicking his legs as hard as he could, but Scruggs held him in an iron grip. In spite of his beating wings, he felt himself being pulled slowly backward. He redoubled his efforts, but it was no use. Scruggs was too powerful!

  Out of the corner of his eye, Edward saw a flash of silver. Seconds later he was falling; falling and in more pain than he’d ever been in before. A long, crimson trail of blood snaked behind him as he cascaded to Earth, black feathers fluttering all around him. His wings were gone! Scruggs had snipped them off! And Edward knew, in that horrifying instant, exactly what that meant. He was done for. A Guardian without wings was finished. Headed toward certain death!

  As Edward rushed toward the Earth at a dizzying speed, he heard a high, horrible noise echo in the air around him. At first he thought it was a howling gale, but then he recognized it for what it was.

  It was the sound of his own terrified shrieks.

  Chapter Three

  ATTACK!

  Edward’s eyes snapped open. He shivered as he gazed around the darkened room, trying to get his bearings. Reaching a shaky hand behind his back, he felt the reassuring touch of his feathers and sighed with relief. He still had his wings!

  Edward turned over, hoping to go back to sleep and forget the terrible nightmare. But he’d no sooner settled into his pillow than a bloodcurdling scream jolted him awake again. At first he wondered if he were dreaming again, but the scream was followed by a loud crash and then several panicked shouts. Edward crept over to the window, nearly falling on his way out of bed, and cautiously peeked outside.

  Tattooed Guardians with green skin hurtled through the sky, diving at what, in the predawn light, looked like a group of four people riding metal horses. Edward heard more crashing sounds as the unusual Guardians’ spears slammed against the horses’ metal flanks.

  These Guardians were unlike any that Edward had seen before—a wild bunch that Tabitha had told him lived in the mountains and forests surrounding Cornelius’s Valley.

  The valley is under attack!he thought. Edward threw on his clothes, the nightmare of Whiplash Scruggs still fresh in his mind. Was Scruggs behind this? Edward hadn’t seen him when he’d looked out his window, but he’d learned not to underestimate
his enemy. Scruggs had a way of showing up whenever Edward was least expecting him.

  His pulse racing, Edward made his way out of his room and into a hallway packed with valley Guardians preparing for battle. As he edged past the throng of winged beings, he nearly collided with Bridgette, his closest friend. She seemed to have dressed quickly, and looked as frightened as he felt.

  “What’s going on?” he shouted, trying to make his voice heard above the din.

  “I don’t know!” Bridgette shouted back. “Something broke through the Song of Warding that protects Cornelius’s Valley. Tabitha’s out there fighting right now. She told me that whatever is attacking us must be really powerful. Ordinary Groundlings wouldn’t be able to break through such strong magic. She thinks we might be up against one or more of the Jackal’s highest ranking servants.”

  Glancing down, Edward noticed that Bridgette was holding a bow and a small bunch of arrows.

  “Where’d you get those?” he asked.

  “Cornelius gave them to me last night,” she said. “He also gave me something to give to you, something he said you’ll need to get into the Jackal’s Lair!”

  Edward was about to ask what it was when the front door crashed open and he and Bridgette had to leap out of the way. Several Guardians carrying a stretcher shoved past them. Edward only got a quick look at the female Guardian with a partially severed wing lying on the stretcher before she was whisked away into a back room.

  “We’ve got to find Tabitha!” Edward said urgently.

  As he and Bridgette shouldered their way to the front door, Edward tried to quell his rising panic. Just what kind of evil beings were they up against?

  The area outside the cabin was total chaos. Edward and Bridgette ducked as three low-flying Guardians carrying spears whooshed past them in the cool morning air, rocketing toward the invaders.