She’d been handling Emrys with kid gloves all morning, offering gentle words of affirmation and even offering to do his chores. It was as if she thought he might crumble to dust at the slightest provocation, and he couldn’t say for certain that she was wrong.
“I think you missed your chance,” Serena said flatly, and Emrys looked over to where she stood, just outside Mr. Pierce’s antique store.
The display window out front, which had previously been home to a chaotic assortment of knickknacks, was now empty except for a single sign. It read: RETAIL SPACE FOR RENT.
“That happened fast,” said Hazel. “Even for the Shallows.”
Serena pushed the door. It was unlocked, swinging open and setting off the bell.
A few days ago, Emrys would have hesitated, fearful of trespassing, as he had when they’d stood outside Van Stavern’s ruined apartment. Today, he stepped forward without a second thought, slipping past Serena and into the shadowy shop interior. The cheerful bell echoed in the empty space.
The wreckage of apartment #701 had awed Emrys into momentary silence, and the utter vacantness of the one-time antique shop had the same effect. There had been so much stuff packed in there less than twenty-four hours ago. Now, if not for the trails and treads marring a thick layer of dust, someone might think the space had been deserted for ages.
“I don’t understand,” he said at last. “It’s completely empty.”
“Not quite,” Hazel said, pushing past him. “Look.”
Emrys saw it then. Atop the glass display case in the center of the room was a small figurine set beside a handwritten note.
Hazel got there first. She held the note tightly with both hands, as if it might slip through her fingers. “It’s addressed to you, Serena.”
Serena took the note, unfolding it while Emrys watched over her shoulder. The note read:
I’m sorry.
I didn’t have a choice. The end is here, and it is hungry.
One day, you’ll understand.
Serena made a choking sound, and she brought her hand up to her mouth. It took Emrys a moment to realize she was crying. Hazel reached for her, but Serena held up her hand and shook her head. Don’t.
“I don’t understand,” said Hazel. “Why is he sorry?”
Emrys lifted the small figurine gingerly between his index finger and thumb. His skin prickled, but he couldn’t tell if it was due to a supernatural sixth sense or plain old intuition.
“And what is that?” asked Hazel.
“It’s a chess piece,” Emrys answered.
Hazel’s brow furrowed. “Chess pieces are supposed to be white or black. Why is it yellow?”
“Not just yellow,” Emrys said flatly. In fact, the figurine was almost golden in color—a rich, warm hue that was as sunny as the day outside. It made Emrys sick. Pieces began shifting in his mind, a chess game Emrys and his friends hadn’t even realized they’d been playing—been losing—all along.
“It’s amber,” he said. “It’s an amber bishop.”
As in @AmberBishop. Emrys had spoken with someone using that online handle just the other night.
He looked up at his friends. “Enoch Pierce is an admin on the wiki. And I think … I think this means …”
He turned the piece over. Inscribed on the bottom were two letters in an elegant, looping script.
YC
“It means he’s with the Yellow Court.”
Emrys wasn’t surprised to discover that @AmberBishop’s account had been discontinued. Enoch Pierce had vacated the digital realm as hastily as he’d cleared out of his shop.
Emrys wasn’t sure if that had been by choice. Had Mr. Pierce simply gone into hiding before the kids could bring him to account for his crimes? Had he retreated deeper into the sheltering shadows of the Yellow Court? Or had he been taken off the board, punished by his collaborators for the loss of a one-of-a-kind relic?
Emrys couldn’t know the answer to that or any of his other questions. He believed Pierce truly had survived a harrowing encounter with Edna Milton in his youth. He also felt certain that Pierce had been the one leaving the hourglass where it would be found by unsuspecting victims, allowing Edna to hunt. But what would drive a man to subject other innocent people to a horror he himself had barely survived? What could the Yellow Court possibly have offered him? How could anyone be so selfish and cruel?
One day, you’ll understand.
Emrys shuddered at the thought. He hoped Pierce was wrong about that.
“You’ve seen now what happens when the wrong relic falls into the wrong hands,” said Van Stavern. “Monsters are the result.”
“Are you talking about Edna Milton?” asked Emrys. “Or about Enoch Pierce?”
“Both,” said Van Stavern. “Monsters wear many skins. And some walk among us.”
“The better to shove us into oncoming traffic,” Serena said sullenly.
They’d gathered in the reliquary, where Van Stavern had briefly praised them on their victory—before seeing the full extent of the damage and directing them to set things right at once. Although she bore the least blame for the state of the place, Hazel spearheaded the restoration efforts, spurred on by her obvious guilt.
