“Will you not shut your mouth just this once?” she said. “No one likes you.”
Dervish’s face flushed and his wormy lips quivered as he tried to think of a clever response. Finally, he turned to X.
“What absurd friends you have,” he said. “Yet I suppose only a lunatic would join you on an errand such as this. She shall be punished, too—as will the dim piece of meat you call Banger, for serving as your messenger boy.”
There was another sound like a gunshot. The ice had contracted again. It was strangling the house.
Jonah was in there somewhere.
X remembered how they’d all huddled together during the first ice storm. He remembered how it felt to be trapped in a groaning house. He hoped Jonah was looking out at him now—he wanted him to know that he’d come for him. But X couldn’t see a thing through the ice. Jonah might have been banging on the glass with a little dinosaur in his hand. He might have been screaming. X would never hear him.
“You must spare Jonah,” X said again, this time to Dervish. “He has no part in this.”
“Ha!” shouted Dervish. “You have refused to bring me the father—so I will take the son! It seems a fair trade, does it not? I regret snuffing out the life of such a sweet boy—it is not the way of the Lowlands, just as it is not our way to parade about in the Overworld like this—but you yourself have driven me to it. It is you, not me, who is the cause of all this pain. It is YOU who laid waste to this mountain—YOU who imprisoned that boy in his tomb. Had you not been so insolent, none of this would have come to pass! But you believed yourself too fine for the Lowlands—just as your vile mother did. You are better than NO ONE and NOTHING, I assure you. Because you ARE no one and nothing. The foolish letter you call a name will not alter that. Your beloved Tariq should never have trusted you. He dealt you so much rope that you strangled not only yourself but a family of innocents besides!”
The words struck X hard. He knew there was truth in them.
“Release the boy,” he said, “and I will follow you home.”
No word had ever tasted more sour on his tongue than the word “home” did now.
“I will NOT release the boy, and you will come regardless,” said Dervish. “If you tarry even an instant, we will return for your plaything, Zoe. How much blood will you see spilled before you simply do as you are commanded? I am curious to find out. Now, please, I am weary of words. Let us watch this house die together, shall we? If you do not misbehave, I will let you pick the boy’s bones from the ruins and make a gift of them to his mother.”
Dervish turned away, twirling his cloak like a dancer. The house began shuddering. Spidery cracks spread through the ice. Wood buckled. Windows burst. Neither X nor Ripper had the power to undo what the lords had done. They stood there watching as the roof split apart like a burst seam. The noise ricocheted down the mountain and echoed back endlessly, growing softer and softer but never quite disappearing.
The lords stared menacingly at X and Ripper, still hoping they’d be foolish enough to fight.
“Are you ready?” said Ripper, jolting X out of his shocked silence.
He gazed at her desperately.
“Do we really stand a chance against a hundred lords?” he said.
“Heavens no,” she said, smiling the fearless smile that made so many in the Lowlands believe she was insane.
With that, Ripper raced forward. She struck a lord square in the face, then leaped over him—she was a golden blur in the moonlight—and landed on the roof of Zoe’s house. Almost immediately, her boots gave way on the ice. She tumbled halfway down the shingles before regaining her footing. X watched as she crawled back up—her useless fingernails struggling to hold on—then lowered herself into the crevice in the roof.
“Jonah! Are you there?” she shouted. “My name is Olivia Leah Popplewell-Heath, and I once had a boy just like you!”
The lords stood stunned, their heads craned upward. Finally, two of them sprang into the air, alighted on the roof, and stalked after Ripper.
“They will cripple her in an instant,” Dervish told X with a sneer. “But at least she is enterprising—unlike yourself, you quivering lamb.”
X nodded, almost respectfully.
And then he punched Dervish in the throat.
The lord fell backward.
A clutch of lords rushed at X. He lashed out in every direction, but even the slightest of them was many times more powerful than he was. For every lord he struck, another five seemed to materialize from nowhere, as if reinforcements were pouring in from the Lowlands. X was kicked and buffeted and pushed to the ground. Someone had his hand over his face—it was impossible to breathe. X’s chest heaved. Regent stood motionless just a few feet away, still glaring at the snow.
X tore the hand from his face, bending the fingers back till the bones popped and their owner cursed. He gulped in air. But more lords kept coming. He couldn’t stand. The weight on top of him grew greater and greater. He felt as if he was not just being held down but actually pushed into the earth.
Behind him, he could hear the house screeching, bursting, imploding. He could hear Ripper—she was still shouting for Jonah. Hadn’t she found him yet? How long could he last? Through the tangle of limbs above him, X could see shards of the moon. It was like a cold eye staring down—reminding him that he had failed. He heard the lords cursing at him in a dozen languages.
But he also heard a new sound now: a sort of dark purring. It rose up from the base of the mountain. It grew louder, grew closer. In the craziness of the moment, it took X a long time to realize what it was.