He looked back at Cyrus. “The tooth was shattered centuries ago by monks who didn’t want it used as a weapon. They scattered pieces around the world to be used in healing — they said — but the truth was rank grisly. To them, the shards were Resurrection Stones, and they used them to raise the dead. After certain … questionable rites, the gravely ill and mortally wounded would be sealed in chambers with the shards.
“Resurrection rooms, they called them, though nothing appealing ever resurrected. If you’re with Nolan, you sleep in one of those rooms now.”
Antigone grimaced.
Ben Sterling tucked his hands into the pockets of his apron and shifted his weight, leg springs sighing. “Look around in here if you like, but I hear the kitchen calling.”
He tugged the door open, jingled through, paused, and leaned back into the room.
“Cyrus, you said you parked old Skelton’s truck?”
Cyrus nodded.
“And he just gave you his keys?”
“Yeah, why?”
Sterling’s eyes sparked above his smile. “No reason.” The door shut behind him.
Antigone looked at her brother, irritated. “Cy, now he knows you have them.”
Cyrus moved to the nearest shelf. “I don’t have the keys, Tigs.” He fished the little paper ball out of his pocket and tossed it to his sister. “That’s what was in there this morning.”
Antigone unrolled it. “Trust Nolan?” She looked up. “We should tell Greeves. You said you were going to tell him about the tooth today anyway. He needs to know that Nolan has it.”
“I don’t want to tell Greeves.”
“Why? You want to hunt for Nolan yourself?”
“I just don’t want to tell him. It’s embarrassing. And I don’t want to hunt for Nolan. We have enough other things to do, but mostly I don’t think we could find him.”
“We should find Mrs. E.” Antigone tugged on her brother’s shirt. “She said she would help us this morning. C’mon, we should go.”
“I want to look around first.” Cyrus scanned the shelves.
“Cy, I’m not gonna hang out in here with you and Sir Roger.”
Cyrus grinned. “I think you are. If you head for the door, my mouth might just sort of slip.”
He walked toward the skull.
“Cyrus …” Antigone sighed. “If you want to play games, find a new friend.”
“I’m not playing,” Cyrus said. He tapped a gold-plated eye socket.
“Cyrus Lawrence Smith,” Antigone said, raising her eyebrows. “Stop acting your age. Do you think I’m scared? You wet your pants the first time we watched Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.”
“Seriously, Tigs?” Cyrus said. “Who has more nightmares? And this won’t be a nightmare. This will be real.”
“Little brother …” Puffing frustration, Antigone smoothed her hair, gritted her teeth, and pointed at the skull. “Selam.”
Cyrus jumped, staggering into his sister. The two of them crashed back into the shelves and down into a row.
Antigone felt her brother’s fist in her stomach and the hard floor against her shoulder blades. A box landed above her head. Glass broke. Paper rained down.
Water slapped into her hair.
Above them, the lights dimmed.
fourteen. QUICK WATER
CYRUS COULDN’T ROLL to either side. And he didn’t want to scoot backward toward the skull. So he crawled forward, over the top of his sister, carefully sliding his hands through paper, glass, and some kind of puddling liquid.
“Get off!” Antigone slapped at him.
“There’s glass,” Cyrus said. “Hold on.”
Antigone pushed his hips up into the air, got her boots braced on his legs, and then heaved him into a somersault.
Cyrus slammed awkwardly to the floor.
“Ow.” He groaned. “Tigs, you just ruptured my kidney.”
Antigone sat up. “My apologies. Now shut up. I’m trying to listen.”
She leaned forward, staring at the skull.
Cyrus scraped himself up. “I think my hand is bleeding.”
“Shhh.” Antigone grabbed a shelf, thought better of it, and then pushed herself up off the floor. Water dribbled down from her hair and slapped onto her boot. “Nothing,” Antigone said. “Absolutely nothing.”
“The lights dimmed,” Cyrus said. “I know they did.”
“How would you know?” Antigone asked. “You were busy tackling me while screaming and sucking your thumb.”
“First,” Cyrus said, standing up, “I didn’t scream. Second, that was your thumb in my mouth.”
“Selam,” Antigone said, stepping forward. “Selam.”
Dust trickled across the floor. The lanterns dimmed and swung on the ceiling. For a moment, the temperature wobbled, and a long sucking sound, like a breath pulled through teeth, filled the room.
And it was gone.
The dust stopped.
The light grew.
“Hmm,” said Cyrus. “We’ve seen it. It happened. Now let’s agree not to do that again.”
Antigone laughed. “Really, Cyrus? Who was just pretending to be the brave one?”
“I wouldn’t have done it. I’m not dumb, Tigs. You’re just funny when you’re scared.”
“Yeah, right. Can we go now, or do you need to change your pants?”
“Why? Oh. Aren’t you hilarious. No. I didn’t wet myself, Brave Sister. But only because you inspire me. What’s all over the floor? It’s on your boot, too.”
Tiny drops of clear liquid were rolling through yellowing pages and ancient envelopes. Cyrus thumped to his knees. The drops were seeking each other, growing larger as they tumbled over shards of glass, through bunnied dust, and around Antigone’s boots.
A ball slopped off Antigone’s toe, swallowing a whole flock of drops, and gathered around her sole.
“I wouldn’t touch it,” Antigone said.
Cyrus extended a finger. “It looks like water.”
“It’s not acting like water. It’s acting like mercury.”
“I’ve never seen how mercury acts.” Cyrus poked it. The ball quivered and slid slowly away on its flat belly.
“That’s how it acts,” Antigone said. “But it’s silver, and it doesn’t go looking for itself.”
More tiny droplets tumbled past to join the ball. The bigger it got, the faster the smaller drops moved toward it.
Cupping his hands, Cyrus picked it up.
“Mercury is poisonous,” Antigone said. “In chemistry, Mr. Sampson said it can soak through your skin and kill you.”
“But this isn’t mercury,” said Cyrus. “This is water. Should I taste it?”
“You’ve been a little hard to deal with lately, so yeah, go ahead.”
Cyrus held the ball up to the light. Antigone pressed up beside him to get a look. Tiny particles of dirt and splinters of wood were floating inside it, but as they watched, all of the impurities rose to the top of the sphere, then slid down around the outside until they reached Cyrus’s skin.
It was cleaning itself.
“Wow,” said Cyrus. “Tigs, try something. Cup your hands beneath mine.”
Antigone held out her hands beneath her brother’s, and then Cyrus spread his fingers.
The liquid immediately slopped through and bounced into Antigone’s cupped palms.
Cyrus examined his fingers. “It feels just like water, but my skin’s dry. All the gunk is left, though.” He brushed off his hands and began scanning the rubble on the floor. A rectangular box lay open on its side. Glass was scattered around it.
Cyrus picked up the box. Inside, it was lined with red velvet and looked like the inside of an egg carton. A dozen baseball-size indents were set in two rows. One of them held half a hollow glass sphere. The rest were empty. A small, lined piece of paper had been tacked inside the lid.