The White Assassin Read online

  Once the attic was secure, Vincent, Victor, and Suttor immediately checked downstairs, while Ragan and Ulrich went back onto the roof, perching on opposite ends of the center gable. They sat motionless, like two stone gargoyles, observing the merriment below.

  Juniper and Cole did a walk-through of the second level, making sure the manor was empty. They entered the last room on the second floor—the room where Billycan slept, which reeked of his mildewed scent. There was a musty mattress in the center of the room, covered in parchments. Juniper kept watch while Cole examined the documents.

  “Juniper,” whispered Cole anxiously, “you need to get in here—now!”

  “What is it?”

  Cole motioned toward the papers with his spear. “See for yourself.”

  Juniper inspected the documents. His mouth fell open in shock. They were detailed maps of Nightshade, down to the last corridor. Abruptly he thrust his spear through the papers, stabbing the mattress underneath. “Where could he have gotten these?” he demanded.

  “The more important question is who he got them from,” said Cole. “No one but the Council knows of their existence. Who would betray us?”

  “We don’t have time for speculation now. All the better that we are here to end this. Once he’s injected with the serum, we’ll find out who’s working with him.” Juniper grunted furiously. A traitor in Nightshade? It seemed unthinkable. “Destroy the documents,” he ordered. “Rip them to shreds. I’m going down to check on the boys.”

  Juniper stormed out of the room and down the stairs. With every step he felt the weight of Trilok’s medal, banging against his chest. Running Nightshade City was hard enough, but this? “A traitor! Why? Why now? There is nothing to gain! We have given our citizens everything they could ever need! What more could they want?” Descending the stairs, he reminded himself that need was a far different thing from want. He ran his flared claws down the length of the wall, leaving a trail of deep grooves in his wake.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A Stealer of Family

  BILLYCAN’S MOOD WAS HIGH. He and the horde would soon be on their way north to Trillium City—to Nightshade. The thought of his wild horde swarming through the dark tunnels of Juniper’s city, flooding every hidden corridor, butchering his precious Nightshade rats made Billycan’s body quake with excitement. He would once again march through the cool underground corridors beneath Trillium City. He’d be feared and respected, in command once more.

  As he stood resolutely on the porch, his devotees gazed up at him, all eyes glazed with pure adoration. Billycan sniffed the night air with his crooked snout, taking in every nuance of the boar’s peppery aroma. He smiled slyly at his flock of drooling zealots. He held out his lanky arms as if beholding a grand event. He shouted into the mass of firelit eyes, “Let the feast begin!” The horde went mad, cramming themselves against each other, parting down the center so their lord and master could make his way down the stairs to take his seat at the head of the feast, a white silhouette against a sea of muddled brown.

  One at each side, Oleander and Mannux stood firmly next to Carn. Suddenly Carn stopped as Billycan came into full view, now only steps away. He looked taller, if that were possible. Even his yellowed teeth seemed sharper. His frame appeared meatier; thick muscle clung to his bones. Carn clutched his chest with both paws, wringing his skin into knots. His insides twisted and gurgled. He leaned on Mannux, who kept pushing him forward, though his body grew heavier with every step.

  Oleander grinned blithely at Thicket and Stono, giggling as she whispered softly in Carn’s ear. “Remember,” she said. “Remember what Billycan put you through—what he did to your family. That is your strength. You cannot let your fear win. You cannot let him win.” She turned to Thicket and winked demurely. She wiggled her nose in anticipation, as if this were the proudest moment of her life, on the arm of Billycan’s strong new fighter, Corn the snake killer.

  Overcome with delight, Thicket suddenly jumped wildly, ready to show off her new friend. “C’mon, you all be walking too slow!” she exclaimed, pushing Oleander’s shoulders. Tilting her head, she smiled curiously at Carn. “Corn, why you be so quiet? Ain’t you happy?” Carn, trapped in his own torment, did not acknowledge her.

  “Corn!” Mannux snapped. “Answer Thicket, she be waiting on you.” The old rat prodded him sharply with a strong elbow to the ribs. Mannux wouldn’t allow anyone to wilt in fright. Carn jerked in response, startled out of his near catatonic daze.

  He looked up into the night sky. The bats circled silently overhead. He turned his gaze to the roof of the manor. Two rats sat in the shadows on a gable, waiting—watching. He recognized Ragan and Ulrich. The Council had arrived. At that moment, Carn made his decision. Too many lives were at stake. He could not let them down. The Saints’ teachings spoke of pivotal moments in the lives of all creatures. This was one of those moments.

  If he was marching to his death, then he would march proudly. He would not drag himself like a sopping washrag to an early grave. “Sorry, Thicket,” he said with sudden energy. “I just be jumpy. You know, meeting Billycan and all.”

  Thicket smiled sweetly. “Aw, Corn, Billycan gonna like you fine. Me and Stono just know it.”

  His seconds standing behind him, Billycan lounged atop a faded cushion, facing the eyeless head of the boar. After their lord had taken his place, the rest of the horde crowded around the boar, scrambling and pushing to find a good seat close to the sizzling carcass.

  Billycan watched the horde fumble to their places. He snapped two rangy digits, commanding his seconds’ attention. “Where is this so-called snake killer?”

  Cobweb leaned down. “He’s coming, sir,” he replied. “Stono and Thicket are bringing him, along with Oleander, his companion, and her father, Mannux.”

  “Ah, Oleander,” said Billycan. “So she has chosen our esteemed snake killer as a mate?”

  “Yes sir,” said Cobweb. “Mannux is pleased with his daughter’s choice.”

  “Mannux would be pleased if she chose a raccoon, the dithering old fool. It is a pity, though,” said Billycan. “It seems a shame for one so pretty to unite with a swamp dullard, even if she herself is one. Of no matter. Victory is far more important than the intricacies of the horde’s mating rituals. Go fetch this snake killer. Stono, I’m sure, is being his slow, cloddish self, plodding along as if he had bricks for feet. Billycan will not be made to wait any longer.”

  “Yes sir,” said Cobweb, dashing off to find them.

  “Montague,” barked Billycan, glaring up at him. “What’s wrong with you? You seem out of sorts.”

  “Sorry, sir,” said Montague, trying to hide his anxiety. “I was thinking of the attack, going over our directives in my head. I want things to go perfectly.”

  “Well, be seated. Seeing you fidget over me from the corner of my eye makes me uneasy. Never has Billycan seen a rat so constantly racked by nerves.”

  Montague did as he was told, forcing himself not to wring his paws as he took his seat. He’d already drawn enough attention to himself. “Sir,” said Montague, thankful to see his brother reappear from the dark, “they’re here.”

  Billycan rose to his feet, eager to meet his newest enforcer. His arrogant expression quickly knotted into unqualified disapproval as Corn the snake killer made his entrance. The rat’s face was absurd, his muzzle round and bulbous, his lips stretched like a carp’s! It was almost insulting to see a pretty rat like Oleander hanging on him so.

  Thicket and Stono ran up to Billycan. “Here he be!” announced Thicket proudly. “Corn, the snake killer!”

  The bugbane suddenly hit Billycan’s nostrils. Stepping back in disgust, he folded his arms and inspected Carn doubtfully. “So, you’re the snake killer Thicket has been pestering me about. Is it you who kills them, or that putrid scent wafting from your hide?”

  Carn stuck his chin out proudly. “I rip their jaws to pieces,” he said boldly. “Then I pull them apart, right down the middle. That be how I kill the snakes.”

  Carn’s wheezy voice and clogged nose did not help Billycan’s impression of him.

  “Sir,” said Thicket, pushing in between them, “Corn smell bad, ’cause he fell in some bugbane and then a bee done bit him on the nose, puffing up his face.”

  Billycan rolled his eyes. It all made sense now. Corn no doubt looked like a typical swamp rat beneath all the swelling. “Yet another idiot Billycan must endure,” he grumbled. Carn’s ears perked at the remark. At least he knew his disguise was working.

  “Oh, how absolutely horrid,” said Billycan, feigning concern. “What an awful chain of events for our esteemed snake killer.” He looked at Oleander, who hung on Carn like a new appendage. “Miss Oleander, I see you’ve found yourself a friend.”

  “Yes sir,” she said, “swept me off my feet, Corn did!”

  There was something about Oleander that appealed to Billycan, something different—something familiar. He chuckled at her enthusiasm. “Well, then,” he purred in an oily tone, “you and your snake killer must sit at my side.” He took her paw in his and patted it gently. “Would you like that, my dear?”

  Despite her physical urge to recoil at his cold, bristly touch, Oleander batted her eyelashes and smiled shyly. “Yes, indeed. That would be just fine.”

  His hackles rising, Mannux held himself back from sinking his teeth into Billycan’s white neck. Oleander turned to her father. She grabbed his arm, pulling herself free from Billycan’s grip. “Papa, ain’t this wonderful? We can all sit together!”

  “Yup,” said Mannux stiffly. “It be wonderful news.”

  “It’s settled, then,” said Billycan. “Let’s all take our places. The horde grows restless for meat.”

  The feast was under way. Once Billyca
n and his chosen guests had been served, the horde ransacked the boar, scouring it for every string of succulent flesh and every clump of sticky fat. The rats giggled as their scrawny feet hit the coals of the dying fire. The young ones tossed them to one another, making a silly game out of who could hold the smoking embers the longest. The horde was giddy with contentment.

  Despite the revolting smell, Billycan insisted Carn sit at his side. One night of the rat’s stench would be well worth it, if it meant an easier takeover of Nightshade City. Billycan could mold this one into something useful. Not yet sure why, he had a sense that this rat could prove much more valuable than Stono and Thicket; something about Corn struck him.

  Cobweb had arranged the seats for the feast, placing a handful of crushed elephant ear under his cushion. He leaned forward and checked on Carn, making sure the rat’s snout was still fat and swollen. For now it looked as exaggerated as ever. If he needed it, all Cobweb had to do was sneak Carn a small handful while Montague distracted Billycan.

  Carn nearly jumped out of his skin whenever Billycan made even the slightest gesture, reaching out for meat or scratching his ribs with his knobby knuckles. Leisurely consuming his huge portion of boar, Billycan had yet to utter a word to Carn. They ate in silence. Several times Carn noticed him tilting his head, staring strangely at him. Was it his distended muzzle, his detestable aroma, or did he recognize him, secretly seeing through his disguise?

  Carn reached out for another piece of meat. Billycan suddenly grabbed him hard by the wrist. He stared Carn dead in the face.

  “So,” said Billycan, furrowing his brow, “how do you possess enough strength to kill a snake? You’re not much bigger than the others. In fact, Stono’s larger than you, and even he can’t crack a snake’s jaw.” Flaring his nostrils, Billycan leaned in close, his liquid eyes boring through Carn’s skull, waiting for an answer.

  Nearly choking on his meat, Carn gulped, painfully swallowing a large clump of pork. Don’t think too hard, he thought. He won’t expect much. “I guess I just be stronger than most.” He slowly pulled his wrist from Billycan’s grasp and reached for another piece of meat, as if nothing bothered him. “I don’t know why. Just lucky, I guess.”

  “Well,” said Billycan, not surprised by the dim-witted answer, “Corn, is it?”

  Carn inwardly cringed. Why did he pick such a simple name, so close to his own? What was he thinking? “Yup, Corn be my name.”

  “How do you catch the snakes? How do you come upon them without being attacked first?”

  “Most times, I just play dead. The snakes come to eat me, thinking I’m long gone, and, well, I eat them instead!” Carn laughed foolishly, cramming more meat into his mouth.

  Billycan scratched his chin. “How did you think of such a crafty trick?”

  Carn relaxed slightly. Billycan seemed to be buying his masquerade. “I learned it from the possums. They play dead all the time. Just thought I’d try it one day, and it worked! I was eating snake by suppertime!”

  The lord of the swamp rats smiled with delight. “Billycan is pleasantly surprised by your resourcefulness, Corn. How many snakes would you say you’ve killed over the years?”

  “Well, back in the woods, I ate snake just ’bout every night.”

  Billycan’s eyes brightened to a diluted pink. “Tell me,” he said hungrily, “how exactly do you do it? I’ve always gone for their heads, chopping them clean off.” Flaring his digits, Billycan thrust four razor-sharp claws in front of Carn’s nose, showing him his tools of choice. “Now then, how do you kill them?”

  “Well, sir,” said Carn, slowly pulling his nose away, “it all depends, I reason.” He scratched his head, as if truly thinking on the matter. “Sometimes I wait till they’re right up in my face, and then I just grab them. Other times I wait till they got me in their mouths, then I use my legs and push. I push hard inside that snake’s mouth until I here that pop!”

  “What pop?” asked Billycan impatiently.

  Carn’s face lit up as if it were all very thrilling. “You know. That noise a jaw makes when ya break it—that loud crack. When I hear that pop, I know they be dead! Dead as dead can be!” Carn nudged Billycan chummily in the shoulder, as if he were just another rat.

  A piercing cackle filled the yard as Billycan’s entire body jerked with laughter. The horde suddenly froze, never having heard him laugh. Not sure what to do, Carn took Billycan’s lead and joined in the hilarity with a commanding yowl, baying at the moon. Still shrieking in mad amusement, Billycan threw himself back on his cushion, clutching his ribs. The rest of the horde followed suit, howling and squealing, rolling on the ground.

  Finally Billycan settled back comfortably, grinning from ear to ear. Letting out a satisfied groan, he stared up at the moon, its brightness pushing through the swamp’s leaden haze. Corn’s story tickled him. How truly decadent! To pop a jaw that way. He marveled that he’d never thought of it himself.

  Billycan listened to his horde, still yelling and carrying on around him, a cheerful background noise. His mind shifted to Juniper, thinking what a deliciously horrible manner that would be for Nightshade’s Chief Citizen to die. Billycan snorted sharply in a final fit of laughter, repeating Carn’s words at the moon.

  “Dead as dead can be!”

  Carn leaned forward and whispered in Oleander’s ear. “This is going better than I ever could have predicted. I had no idea how easy this would be.”

  Oleander turned to him and let out a silly laugh as though he were saying something quite charming. Eyeing his snout, she let out a muted gasp. “Your face,” she hissed. “It’s not swollen anymore. The toxin has worn off!”

  Carn instinctively grabbed his muzzle. It was smooth, the inflammation gone. Oleander looked wide-eyed at Cobweb, and motioned to Carn.

  Cobweb panicked. He reached clumsily under his cushion, all the while glancing at Billycan, still reclined on his back, staring into the night sky. Cobweb fumbled for the elephant ear. He suddenly looked as if he might vomit, his gray skin drained of all color.

  “Cobweb,” said Oleander, “what is it?”

  “I hid it under the wrong cushion!” he whispered frantically. “It’s under Thicket! I was so nervous …” He slapped his forehead with his paw. “Of all the stupid mistakes!”

  “Hush,” she said softly. “We’ll get out of this.”

  Carn kept his face turned away from Billycan. His heart was beating furiously. His coolness had shifted back to terror.

  Sensing trouble, Thicket got up from her seat and crouched behind Cobweb and Oleander. “What be going on with you two?” she asked, pushing between them. Cobweb looked vacantly out into the swamp, wishing its thick foliage would snatch him up and swallow him whole. “Cobweb, you look sick.” She laughed. “Ate too much, huh?” She turned to Carn. “Corn, your face, it be back to its old self! You look like you again!”

  Carn tried to quiet her. “Well … uh, I do be feeling better.” He leaned in close, lowering his voice. “Thicket, let’s hush a bit so as we don’t upset Billycan. He be resting.”

  Feeling Carn’s shaky paw, Thicket furrowed her brow. “You be so jumpy all night … so nervous. Billycan likes you just fine! He thinks you something special.” She snickered, swatting him on the shoulder. “You worry like a scared rabbit!”

  Billycan pulled back up to a sitting position. He turned to Stono and Montague, saying something about tomorrow’s journey to Nightshade. Montague caught a glimpse of Carn’s alarmed face. He quickly asked a series of rapid-fire questions about the assault, which Billycan was more than happy to address.

  Cracking his jaw from side to side, Billycan leaned back on his elbows, looking leisurely at the horde as he spoke. “The horde will do well, Montague.” He nodded at Stono. “With him and Thicket leading the way, along with our new snake killer, they’ll rip those rats apart. Nightshade is ours for the taking.”

  “Sir,” said Montague, trying to buy time, “tell me again about the Bloody Coup.”

  Cobweb walked stealthily behind Billycan. All he had to do was reach under Thicket’s cushion unseen, snatch a handful of the crushed plant, and make his way back to Carn.