August - Chapter Four

Saturday afternoon, Jeremy found his mother in the bathroom, nose-to-nose with her own reflection in the mirror. “Mom?” he said, even though it wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d caught her doing.

“I’m trying to decide,” she said, “between the red and the magenta.” She held up two lipstick tubes as proof. “Also, I think I have blackheads.”

Jeremy leaned against the doorframe. “You do not have blackheads. And I thought the BBC was taking care of all this?”

Rochelle snorted and uncapped the magenta tube. “They’re bringing out a camera guy, a sound guy, and a presenter. I wouldn’t trust any of them to do my hair and makeup, would you?”

“Fair point.” He watched as she pushed the tip of the lipstick into her Cupid’s bow, carefully tracing the shape of her mouth in a movement that was so familiar he could see it even with his eyes closed. “You shouldn’t be nervous.”

“I’m not,” Rochelle said without moving her mouth, so it came out more like, “Haing hot.”

“Okay, Pinocchio.”

All of this was still pretty crazy to Jeremy. His mom was going to be on TV, real TV, in just a few hours. Well, she was going to be on camera — her bit wasn’t airing until Tuesday night. On Monday, Angus was taking her to Glasgow to do a series of radio interviews to drum up “local enthusiasm and hopefully, some goddamn tourists,” in Rochelle’s words. The radio bits would air on Monday evening and Tuesday morning to get people to tune in to the TV special.

So much was happening so quickly. Jeremy felt a pang of nostalgia for the first few weeks of their summer — endless, unhurried days filled with farm chores and learning how to swim. Before the Not-Kiss, before the cross, before the back fence, before the ceilidh. It all felt very far away, even though it was still very close.

“Are you ready to go?” Rochelle asked him. Her lipstick was on now, and she was just touching up the corner of her mouth.

Jeremy nodded.

“Okay.” She took a deep breath and exhaled, staring at herself in the mirror. He could practically see the pep talk scrolling through her mind.

“Talk less,” he said. “Smile more.”

It took a moment, but sure enough, she rolled her eyes, then turned to grin at him. “That might work for Aaron Burr, but it doesn’t work for me.”

Jeremy grinned back at her. “Good.”

It all went well, in the end. His mom was a natural in front of the camera. You couldn’t even tell that she was nervous. Angus tagged along, since they were filming in the main parlor of the castle, and his heart-eyes were so obvious they made Jeremy want to hurl. Instead, he settled for waving them off when they left for dinner in town and burying himself in his Mendelssohn Agitato until he could barely think straight.

He definitely didn’t think about how Colin hadn’t replied to either of his texts. Nope. Not at all. Not even once.

Sunday arrived in a cloud of… well, clouds. It was grey, drizzly, cold. Rochelle was holed up in the dining room again, swearing up and down that she would have the first third of the book translated by the end of the day even if it killed her, and Mozart was watching a cluster of seagulls from the kitchen table. She chittered at them every once in a while.

Jeremy tried not to think too much while he threw together a bag of sandwiches and a thermos of coffee. It was a good day for a hike, according to Colin’s most recent string of messages in their group chat, in response to Aggie complaining about the rain. Not too wet, not too hot, no chance of a sunburn, and he still hadn’t replied to Jeremy’s texts in their personal chat. What the fuck ever, Jeremy thought, tying up his Timbs a little more tightly than he needed to. They’d gotten a lot of traction over the past month, more than they’d ever been used in D.C., and had a layer of mud and grass on the soles that he didn’t think would ever go away. He pulled up the hood on his sweater and zipped his windbreaker, then turned to Mozart, holding his backpack open in front of her. “Coming?”

Colin and Aggie were waiting for him outside the cottage, the Beast idling in the empty road. Jeremy made a point of not meeting Colin’s gaze as he approached the truck. When he opened the passenger door, Aggie greeted him with, “Really? You put her in your bloody rucksack?”

“It keeps her dry,” Jeremy pointed out, sliding in next to her on the bench seat, holding his bag in his lap. Mozart sniffed, then began to purr when Aggie stroked her on the head. “Plus, she takes up less room this way.”

“All right, Yankee?” came Colin’s voice, even and casual. Ridiculous.

“Yup,” said Jeremy, glancing at him. Colin’s face was blank, friendly, impassive, and he tried not to feel anything about that. “Are we going or what?”

“Sounds like someone didn’t get enough caffeine today,” said Aggie. She pushed her iced coffee into Jeremy’s hand. “If you finish it I’ll step on your toes.”

“Got it,” said Jeremy, and took a sip. He’d forgotten that she didn’t take any sugar.

The drive took them through town, past Aggie’s church, out into the fields. Mozart fell asleep about ten minutes in, and Jeremy almost followed suit — the sound of the engine was comforting, and even when Aggie turned up the radio, it fell into the background, caught somewhere between the console and the seat, somewhere beyond Jeremy’s reach. He watched the steady rise of the land around them, mentally scrolling through the farms they passed, the different things he’d done in different fields, different barns. He was getting to know this place, he realized, in a way that went past skin-deep. He was beginning to feel it in his feet, hear it in the back of his head. Even if this moment sucked, even if Colin giving him the brush-off hurt a little more than he wanted it to, he still had this. He had the mud in his shoes, the Mendelssohn in his ears.

“We should have you deejay,” Aggie said, snapping him back to reality. “When we go to Glasgow,” she clarified at his frown.

“Okay,” Jeremy said, and found himself smiling. “Be careful what you wish for.”

“Too right,” Colin said. “He’ll have us listening to all that classical junk.”

A flare of irritation spiked along Jeremy’s skin before he could stop it, followed by a blush. He gritted his teeth as Aggie snorted and swatted at Colin’s shoulder. He knew it was a joke, maybe not a great joke, but still. Jo never would’ve said something like that, especially not after hearing him play just two days before.

The hills around them got bigger and bigger, tall enough that Jeremy couldn’t see the tops of the trees. Not long after that they parked in a makeshift lot with two other cars in it and a clear trailhead some twenty feet away. Colin killed the engine, and Mozart woke up as they unfastened their seatbelts. The rain had picked up, a gentle patter on the roof of the car. Jeremy stared at the land in front of him, suddenly wishing that he was back in the cottage, in bed, watching Downton Abbey. He wanted to see what happened with Sybil and Lord Grantham’s driver. But he followed the others out of the car, pausing to let Mozart jump out of his bag and make her way to the treeline.

“The rain will ease up once we get under the trees,” Colin was saying as he pulled his backpack out of the truck’s bed. Next to him, Aggie looked as enthusiastic as Jeremy felt, frowning up at the forest in front of them. It paired well with her magenta windbreaker and battered boots.

“How long is this going to take?” Jeremy said. He was beginning to regret agreeing to this hike. It was just past noon, and given that they would have decent light until about eight o’clock, they could be out here for—

“Five, six hours?” Colin shrugged, shouldering his pack. He was in another utilikilt, his weathered windbreaker, and boots. His socks were pale red and, for some reason, Jeremy couldn’t stop looking at them. “No real rush, so long as the rain doesn’t get worse.”

“Oh, good.” Jeremy turned towards the forest and wiped at his glasses. This explained why Colin told them to pack a second lunch. “Only six hours.”

They set off, and much to Jeremy’s irritation, Colin had been correct — it wasn’t wet enough to make the ground muddy, but it gave a pleasant cushion under his feet, and the rain practically disappeared once they were under the trees. They headed northwest, Colin in the lead, following a trail line that Jeremy couldn’t see if he tried.

The forest was dense, but not impenetrable, and overwhelmingly green. Water dripped down tree trunks swollen dark brown with moisture, and the ground was damp, squishy, half-rotten with fallen branches. Around them, ferns blossomed in saturated patches between the trees, reaching for the sparse sunlight that filtered through the branches. Where the dirt gave way to stones, water collected and trickled into calm, earthy puddles and thatched into rich, fragrant moss. The air was humid, of course, but not oppressive, and Jeremy was thankful for the occasional breeze that wove between the trees, even if it did shake a few loose raindrops onto his hood.

It was calmer than Jeremy had expected. He supposed most of the birds and squirrels were hidden away from the rain, so the air around them was quiet, moody. Neither Colin nor Aggie was saying much, either — whether that was a good or bad thing, he didn’t know.

Colin set a measured pace, taking them in a steady, but gradual incline, gentle enough that Jeremy forgot they were technically walking up a small mountain. He was more focused on the way his thighs began to ache, the heat in the soles of his feet, the sight of Mozart keeping pace with them, stopping only to examine mole and rabbit burrows along the way. She blended in very well with their surroundings, practically a floating cloud in her own right.

After about half an hour, Colin stopped them to break for water. “Not long now,” he said, half into his Nalgene. “You’ll be able to see it all.”

“Fantastic, can’t wait,” said Aggie, monotone, and Jeremy only nodded.

Colin looked at Jeremy, his gaze lingering for a moment too long, then turned away and closed his Nalgene. “Let’s go on,” said Colin, and they obeyed.

Then, the trail started to really pick up, and Jeremy found himself short of breath, leaning against a crooked tree at the side of the slope. He looked ahead, at Colin giving Aggie a hand up a steep ledge to the next part of the trail, and felt a blush burn his ears. Suddenly, absurdly, he decided not to take Colin’s hand, even if it meant making an ass out of himself.

So when Jeremy reached the ledge, eye-to-shin with Colin and his weird red socks, he bypassed Colin’s hand and instead grabbed onto a reluctant tree root. He braced himself on a shard of rock, pulled on the root, and hauled himself up the embankment. The dirt slid and caked under his hands, his foot nearly slid off the rock, but Jeremy threw himself onto the ground, rolling to the side and into a fern. But he’d made it up the slope on his own, and that was all that mattered.

When he stood up, he could see that Aggie was trying very hard not to laugh, and Colin looked sort of dumbstruck.

It was weird, for a moment. It was awkward. You couldn’t be in a party of three and be the only one not taking someone’s hand. Thankfully, Mozart chose that moment to come leaping onto the bank, skidding to a halt by Jeremy’s feet, her legs splayed wide and her tail in the air.

“Right,” said Colin. “Okay.” Then he turned and continued up the slope. Aggie followed him, but not before giving Jeremy a look that he didn’t want to interpret. Instead, he brushed off his hands and fell in behind them.

Some ten minutes later, Colin pushed through a break in the trees and let out a yell. “Here we are! Welcome to the Outer Rolls!”

Aggie and Jeremy traded a glance before following him, but when they stepped out of the trees and onto the top of the hill, Jeremy couldn’t help but let out a gasp at the sight in front of him.

They were surrounded by rolling, tree-covered hills — endless, sweeping, daunting, like clumps of jade covered in moss, ending only in a sudden, broken line of cliffs at the westernmost edge, where the sea met the land in a white, frothy foam. Below where they stood, the forest picked up again, after a sharp drop that only a mountain goat could’ve navigated. The wind whistled around them, carrying salt and the musty tang of wet leaves, and the raw power of it all caught in Jeremy’s throat. He forced himself to take a breath, gasping in the sudden drizzle of rain, utterly overwhelmed by the size of the land around him. It was the same way he felt in the ocean — like the gaping mouth of history was sitting right in front of him, ready to swallow him whole.

“Wow,” said Aggie, without even a hint of sarcasm. She was staring at the hills, breathless. “I’ve never been up this way, Colin, it’s incredible!”

“Aye,” said Colin, his voice filled with a joy so rare it made Jeremy’s heart clench. He gripped the strap of his backpack to keep himself from reaching out, brushing a hand to Colin’s arm. He felt Mozart bump into his leg, rubbing against him, grounding him.

Jeremy lost track of how long they stood there, just watching, listening to the rain and the wind in the leaves. Above them, the clouds shifted and slid through the sky, moving faster than he would’ve expected, in every shade of grey.

“Well,” Colin eventually said, turning north. “We should keep going.”

The trail led them along the top of the hill, dancing the edge of the forest behind them and the steep slope in front of them. The clouds waxed and waned up above, and Jeremy felt every step, every breath, with increasing sensitivity, like his movements were vibrating into the air. He watched Mozart, the way she padded over the occasional rock, or stopped to sniff certain piles of dirt, and felt a sudden surge of affection for her, for the island, for—

Jeremy forced that thought down before it could fully surface. Instead, he tried to focus on where he was stepping, the squish of the grass under his boots, the taste of the rich, wet air. He wiped at his glasses, then saw that they were heading for another patch of forest.

Soon enough, they were back under the trees, and they paused for another water break. “Let’s go for another ten minutes,” Colin said, his gaze on the trail ahead of them. “There’s this nice group of boulders where we can sit and eat, if that sounds all right?”

“Sure, Col,” said Aggie. She’d been so quiet, otherwise, that Jeremy was almost surprised to hear her speak. It wasn’t like her, being so reserved, but he guessed he was being like that too. There was something so remote about where they were that was difficult to overcome with banter and stupid jokes. In a way, Jeremy was grateful for the silence — somehow, it helped him think less.

Smile more, a voice in his head chimed in, and he couldn’t help grinning to himself.

They continued on. After a few minutes, Mozart came up to him and meowed, so Jeremy picked her up and zipped her into his windbreaker. She burrowed into his chest, and he held her in place with one hand while Colin led them through trees upon trees. She was warm, a blazing heat against his sternum, and she purred as he walked. Jeremy kept one thumb at the back of her neck, rubbing into the space between her ears.

“I wondered when she’d need a nap,” Aggie said, once they were finally sitting down at the boulders and unwrapping their lunches. Colin really hadn’t been kidding — the boulders were all different sizes, the largest one easily clearing twenty feet above their heads, blossoming out of the side of the hill like warts. The stones were in varying colors; some were dark grey, others light slate, some black, and still others were a dark, brownish blue. Most were covered in moss, but a select few were protected by the branches overhead, and made for pretty decent seating.

Jeremy rubbed at Mozart’s head — she was still sleeping — and took a bite of his sandwich. He’d expected to feel more tired, but he didn’t. He felt electric, heated, ready to keep going. It was almost like there was an invisible hook wrapped around his middle, pulling him further into the hills. He wondered when they would double back. “She’s doing better than I’d thought,” he said, rubbing Mozart’s head again. “She’s still pretty young.”

Aggie snorted. She’d already gone through two packets of crisps, a turkey wrap, and an apple, and was still going strong. “That’s the most dog-like cat I’ve ever met. Tough as nails.”

“She’s my hero,” Jeremy said, and Aggie chuckled before they all went back to eating.

Colin had packed an impressive picnic. Four sandwiches with double-stacked meat and cheese, five granola bars, two apples, a bag of Bugles, and a packet of cookies that looked homemade. He’d put the cookies in the middle of their area and said, “Have at it.” It was a lot harder than Jeremy’d expected to stare down chocolate chips.

Because if he wasn’t going to take Colin’s hand, he certainly wasn’t going to take a cookie.

It was then, just a minute later, when they were all quiet and nose-deep in their food, that Aggie said, her voice low and urgent, “Nobody freak out. But we’re being watched. And not in a friendly way.”

Colin immediately froze, then thawed just as quickly. He went back to chewing on his bread. “Where?” he said, muffled.

Aggie flicked a stray piece of lettuce off her thumb and looked at her nail. “Behind the top of the boulder. Some middle-aged white guy.”

Jeremy chewed and chewed, his heart threatening to give up entirely. His fingers felt cold. This had to be a joke. Just a bad joke. Why would—?

“What do we do?” Aggie said next, still examining her nails in a way Jeremy had never seen her do before. She never even painted them.

Colin was silent for a moment, then swallowed his food. “This,” he muttered, and stood up. “I need a piss,” he said, loud enough to be noticeable but not obvious, raised an eyebrow, and left. He disappeared around the corner of the biggest boulder, crunching through half a dozen branches on his way.

Jeremy watched Colin go, his heart thumping. He could hear it in his ears, feel it in his stomach. “This can’t be happening,” he hissed. “Who could’ve followed us through all that?”

“Can I have some of your coffee?” Aggie said, at normal volume. She leveled him with a flat, dark look.

“Sure,” he replied, also at normal volume. He passed over his thermos.

Suddenly, there was the huge sound of scuffle, followed by a loud thump and a “Get your hands off me—!”

Jeremy could only sit and stare as Colin emerged from the other side of the boulder, half-dragging someone down the slope. Colin had one of the man’s arms pinned behind his back, and the man flailed, tripping on the edge of his—

“Robe,” said Jeremy, intelligently. He stood up, and Mozart jumped out of his jacket, spooked. She froze, staring at their new visitor.

“I know,” Colin said, giving the man a look that was equal parts disdain and confusion. He tightened his grip and pushed the man further towards their circle. “I don’t get it.”

“Unhand me at once, you foul cretin!” The man struggled again, trying in vain to push Colin away. His plain brown robe flapped at his ankles, and the wooden beads hanging at his waist clicked.

“Holy shit,” said Jeremy, feeling lightheaded all over again. “Is that a monk?”

The man — the monk — stared at them. His gaze was wide, and his dark eyes darted from Aggie to Jeremy and back again. He was middle-aged, like Aggie had said, but older than their parents. There were flecks of grey in his tawny brown beard, which, like his hair, was untrimmed and ragged. He was lean, skinny, with a sort of haggard look, as if he hadn’t had a square meal in quite some time. A pair of rough brown leather boots rounded out the robe, rope, and belt made of wooden beads with a cross hanging off the end. He looked like he’d walked straight out of an illuminated manuscript.

“Col,” said Jeremy. “Let him go.”

Colin stared at him, clearly outraged. “You’re joking—”

“I’m not,” Jeremy replied. “He’s not going to run.”

“And how do you know that?” said Aggie, her voice sharp. She was staring at the monk in equal parts confusion, fear, and anger.

“He’s hungry. He just wants some food.” Jeremy looked at the monk and took a step forward. “Right?”

A beat passed. Then two. The monk stared at Jeremy, his nostrils flaring as he caught his breath, then finally, he nodded.

“Okay.” Jeremy picked up his last remaining sandwich and held it out. “Quid pro quo. We feed you, you answer some questions.”

This only seemed to make him more angry. “Fine,” the monk spat.

“Jeremy.” Colin’s jaw twitched, and his gaze was heated. “You can’t be serious.”

“Perfectly,” Jeremy said, and he made himself hold Colin’s gaze. It was almost like staring into the sun. “Trust me,” he added.

It took another moment, but finally, finally, Colin let go of the monk. The monk lurched forward, shaking out his arm and giving Colin a look that could kill.

“Come and sit,” Jeremy said, gesturing to the nearest boulder. “He won’t try to dislocate your shoulder this time, I promise.”

The monk snorted but sat down, and he snatched the sandwich from Jeremy’s hand. He began to eat in quick, huge bites, clearly ravenous.

Repulsed, Aggie sat down again, staring at the monk, but Colin stayed standing, pacing the outer edge of the boulders like a wolf. Jeremy ignored both of them and sat down as well. Mozart had relaxed from her fighting stance, her eyes huge and unblinking.

“So,” said Jeremy, once most of the sandwich was gone. “What’s your name?”

“Guibert,” the monk replied. His voice was gritty, his accent thick, and the French word was heavy in his mouth. “And yours?”

“Jeremy,” he replied. “You already met Colin, and that’s Aggie.”

The monk — Guibert — looked at all of them, his gaze lingering on Aggie, then on Jeremy. “Strange,” he said. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen people your color before.”

“Not a good start, Gwee-burt,” Aggie said, short and brittle. She looked ready to slap him, not that Jeremy could blame her.

“Guibert,” he said, deciding to leave that comment alone for now. “Where did you come from? How did you find us?”

“I often walk this way.” His gaze went from Jeremy to Mozart. “And I knew she would bring you here today.”

Jeremy felt his heart drop for the second time that afternoon. “What,” he said, trying not to let his voice shake. Colin had stopped pacing, and was standing right behind Jeremy’s left shoulder.

Guibert ignored him, frowning at the sandwich. “Is this salami? It’s rather spicy.” He shrugged and stuffed the rest of it into his mouth. “Do you happen to have anything else? It’s been several days since I’ve eaten anything beyond a few roots and berries. I ran out of bread two days ago, and meat has been difficult to come by.”

“You,” said Aggie. She sat up, her eyes blazing. “You’re the one that’s been stealing food from the shop.”

Guibert scowled properly now. “May the Lord forgive me,” he said, deadpan.

Colin moved, making Jeremy jump. He went over to his own pile of food and pulled out a sandwich, tossing it to the monk. “There,” Colin said. “Keep talking.”

Guibert unwrapped the sandwich with impressive speed. “I would like you to know that I do not take kindly to harassment,” he told them, raising an eyebrow. “Particularly from a group of hotheaded young people.” He took a huge bite of the sandwich. “Beef. Nice.”

It took all of Jeremy’s willpower not to roll his eyes. “Explain something to me,” he said to Guibert instead. “You’re clearly a monk, given the way you’re dressed, or a friar. So answer me this — where the hell did you come from? There aren’t records of any monasteries on this island, medieval or modern. Unless you’re living in a hollow tree, I’m beginning to think those cookies were laced with LSD.”

Guibert blinked at him, chewing. “You have an exceedingly odd way with words,” he said. “And, there are records of my existence. It’s not my fault you’re so willfully ignorant.”

“Hey,” Colin snapped. “Watch it. Just because he’s being nice to you doesn’t mean I will.”

“I know,” Guibert replied, giving him a nasty look before his attention drifted back to Mozart, who stared at him. “You’re not what I expected her to bring,” he said. “But then again, she and I weren’t exactly… close.”

“Okay, I’ve had enough of this goddamn tiptoeing,” said Jeremy, frustration flaring red hot through his body. “What the hell does my cat have to do with anything?”

“I sent her away,” Guibert replied, “when I sensed the approaching storm.”

“Shut up about the cat,” Aggie snapped. “I don’t give a damn about any of your bullshit.” She turned to Jeremy, and he could see all the frustration he felt reflected in her face. “Are we really just ignoring the fact that he’s a thief? He’s the reason I can’t close up on the shop on my own, he’s the reason Winston can barely walk through town!”

“I never intended to cause harm,” Guibert cut in, his voice going hard again. His eyes flashed. “I only acted out of necessity. But I have reached the point where I see no end in sight.” He looked up at Jeremy. “I need your help.”

“We’ve given you food, and a chance to explain yourself,” Colin said. “You’ve insulted my friends and answered only in half-truths and riddles. We don’t owe you anything more.” He shifted closer to Jeremy. “Give us one good reason to trust you.”

Guibert finished the last corner of his sandwich and looked at Jeremy again. “Mendelssohn’s Agitato,” he said, and Jeremy’s stomach dropped to his feet. “You like the middle of the piece best, but you are concerned about making an error in the last measure on the third page.”

“Fourth page,” Jeremy mumbled, feeling faint. He swayed a little while Aggie stared at him, and he could feel Colin’s gaze burning into the back of his head. How the hell—

Guibert was smirking, sort of. It was the closest thing to an actual smile that Jeremy had seen so far. “I can give you more answers,” he said. “But you need to come with me. There is something you must see. You’re not my first choice,” he added, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows. “But you’ll have to do.”

“Like hell,” Aggie said, fierce and fuming. “If you think we’re going anywhere with you—”

“Aggie.” Jeremy turned to her, then to Colin. “Can we talk?”

Aggie scowled but nodded, and she and Colin followed Jeremy back into the woods, some fifteen feet away from the boulders. They could still see Guibert, but they were out of earshot.

“Explain,” Aggie said. Her eyes were glittering.

“I don’t like this,” Colin said. His arms were crossed again, and while it did lovely things for his biceps, Jeremy could see that he was worried.

“I don’t like it, either,” Jeremy told them. “But he clearly needs help, and he’s no threat to us. Not that we can tell,” he added, at Aggie’s snort. “And I want to know how he knew about my Agitato. I want to know why he keeps saying that he sent Mozart to bring us here—”

“He’s crazy!” Aggie hissed. “He’s just a crazy man who lives in the forest and—”

“Even if he’s crazy, that doesn’t explain how he knew the name of my audition piece!”

“So it was right, then?” Colin asked him. “What he said about your playing?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy blushed, then, and hated it. “No one knew that apart from me.”

“We can’t just follow him on a whim,” Aggie pointed out. “We’re in unfamiliar terrain and even if we outnumber him now, if he takes us somewhere with more of his friends, then we’ll be the ones who are outnumbered.”

“We’ll just have to pay attention,” Jeremy said. “And if he brings us to a city of crazies, then we’ll bail.”

Aggie rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah, sounds like an airtight plan, genius.”

Jeremy ignored this for now and turned to Colin. “Col, there’s nothing around here, right?”

Colin shrugged. “As far as I know, it’s just open land from here to the coast. If you head due west out of the hills, you hit a handful of farms, but nothing before that.”

“Okay, so the odds of him taking us to a monkified Jonestown are pretty low. Wherever we’re going, it’s clearly within walking distance, so it’s nowhere we couldn’t get on our own. And there’s one other thing.” Jeremy looked at both of them, at their pained, frustrated expressions, and hoped that they weren’t about to hate him for this. “Think about it. He’s a monk. And right now, my mom is translating a book that was written here in the late middle ages — here, where there aren’t any records of monasteries ever existing. He is our best chance of getting some answers about those inconsistencies. He might have access to evidence that’s never entered the historical record.”

Aggie was staring at him like he had two heads. “You want us to go along with this guy for the sake of a little history project?”

“Yes,” said Jeremy. “Maybe.”

“Bloody…” She seemed incapable of finding the right word. “You know we don’t have proof he’s a real monk. He could be pretending.”

“She has a point, Jer,” said Colin. He looked thoughtful, broody.

Jeremy nodded. “I can test him.”

Aggie blinked at him. “One more time?”

“I can test him.” He swallowed a spike of nerves. “I know enough about monks, I can check if he really is one, or if he’s just pretending.”

“Steady on,” said Colin. “If he is a real monk, what if he’s not like the monks you know about? He could give you the wrong answers and still be legit.”

“Yes and no,” Jeremy replied. “Whatever his order is, I’m sure at least some of it draws from Benedict’s rules. Even if he doesn’t follow Benedictine practice, if he’s a real monk, he’ll know what it is. The records say that English missionaries brought the tradition with them back in the tenth century, so there’s no reason why he shouldn’t.”

Aggie and Colin were silent for a moment, then they traded a loaded look. Jeremy could see a lot passing between them, almost as if they were having an entire conversation. For a fierce, painful moment, he missed Jo with everything he had — they once could look at each other like that, too. Instead, he shot a glance at Guibert, who was having a staring contest with Mozart.

Goddamn, this is weird, Jeremy thought, then shook his head. “I’m doing it,” he told the others. “Whether you like it or not.” He turned and went back to the boulders. A moment later, they followed him.

“We’ve decided to go with you,” Jeremy told Guibert. “But first, more questions.”

Guibert looked mildly annoyed, and he broke eye contact with Mozart. “If it’s necessary.”

“Yes.” Jeremy met his gaze. “Do you eat dinner before Lauds or Vespers?”

Guibert scoffed. “Vespers. Can you be serious? What sort of question—?”

“Describe to me the difference between a cenobite and an anchorite.”

Guibert’s expression turned thunderous. “If this is an attempt to prove my honesty—”

“Just answer the bloody question,” Colin cut in.

“Fine,” Guibert spat, and he drew himself up to his full height. “A cenobite lives in a monastery, under a rule and an abbot. An anchorite is a hermit, someone who has given themselves entirely to nature and God’s will.”

“All right,” Jeremy replied. He clenched his fists. “And how many degrees of humility—”

“Twelve.” Guibert scowled. “Would you like me to list them?”

“No.” Jeremy blushed. “That’s not necessary.” Besides, he didn’t know them. He turned to Colin and Aggie, who looked confused, impressed, and worried all at once. “He’s the real deal.”

“Any fool with a basic knowledge of Benedict’s Rule could have passed your silly test,” Guibert said. “My word should have been enough.”

“We’ll see about that, monkey-boy,” said Aggie. She still looked ready to fight him.

“How far?” Jeremy said to Guibert, wanting to postpone the battle for as long as possible.

“Not very,” Guibert replied, scowling at Aggie. “Less than two miles.”

“That’s doable,” Jeremy said, glancing at Colin for confirmation. Colin nodded, and Jeremy felt partial sensation return to his body, along with a warm tingle that was definitely unhelpful at a time like this. We can handle the monk, he thought, and shouldered his rucksack.

The hike that Guibert proceeded to take them on was difficult and confusing all at once. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the direction he picked, first going due west, then north, then east, then north again, all with very little warning. The path itself followed no logic that Jeremy could see — they weren’t on a trail, and nothing was marked by signposts or mile counts — and wove between the trees, up small but steep rock faces, and along creeks that seemed to appear out of thin air.

After about half an hour, the path started to slope sharply upwards, and the trees grew even more dense, forming a thick canopy high above. Jeremy stepped closer to Colin, putting aside the day’s grudge for a moment, and muttered, “Do you know where we are?”

“Sort of,” Colin muttered back, his eyes fixed on Guibert. “I’ve been plotting.” He tapped a marker — which, up until this moment, Jeremy hadn’t noticed he was holding — on the face of his watch. Jeremy looked down at Colin’s wrist, where his windbreaker had been pulled away, and realized that he had written a list of directions and distances — N 10”, W 5”, NE 3”, on and on along the inside of his arm. The perks of having a fancy watch, Jeremy supposed, included a tiny compass.

Jeremy smiled in spite of himself, and looked up to find Colin smiling back. “Wicked,” Jeremy murmured, and Colin bumped his shoulder before continuing on.

Aggie had been very quiet since they’d left the clearing, but her eyes were blazing when Jeremy fell back in step with her.

“Are you going to kill me for going along with this?” he asked her in an undertone.

“Yes. No.” Aggie shook her head. “I’ll make up my mind when we get back to the car.”

“What if I bought you fish and chips?”

Aggie went quiet for a moment. “Extra vinegar and I’ll be merciful.”

“Deal,” said Jeremy, and she gave him a funny look — something between a grimace and a smile — and he did his best to smile back. It was easier than thinking about the fact that a mysterious and likely insane monk was taking them so deep into the isolated and distant woods that not even the ocean would hear them scream.

Positive thoughts, Jeremy reminded himself, pushing a thumb through Mozart’s fur. She was tucked into his windbreaker again, half-asleep from the journey. Positive thoughts.

A few minutes later, they seemed to get close to the top of the hill. “Just through here,” Guibert called over his shoulder, the first thing he’d said since they’d started walking. He pushed through a wall of ferns at the crest of the hill and disappeared from view.

“Why,” Aggie gritted out, “do I feel like I’m being led to a Narnia I didn’t ask for?”

“Don’t eat the Turkish Delight,” Jeremy replied, and got a smack on the arm. He glanced at Colin, who looked as uncertain as he felt. Jeremy pressed his thumb into Mozart’s fur again. “Okay. No matter what, we have to keep our shit together.”

“Agreed,” Colin said, and Aggie nodded.

Jeremy set his jaw and tried to ignore the pounding of his heart. Steeling himself, he followed in Guibert’s footsteps and pushed through the wall of ferns.

A moment later, he stumbled into some sort of clearing. He was at the top of the hill, but the land had plateaued into a summit that was much wider and more forgiving than the slopes they’d trekked earlier that day. The trees had thinned out, and some twenty feet in front of him, built into the side of the hill, was—

“A monastery,” Jeremy said, frowning. Mozart popped her head out of his windbreaker and sniffed at the air.

There was some loud crunching, then Colin and Aggie appeared next to him. “Holy shit,” said Aggie. “Where’s Guibert?” said Colin.

“I don’t know,” Jeremy replied, his gaze fixed on the monastery. The large building was clearly hundreds of years old, made out of rough, greyish stone that looked very familiar — it appeared to be the same stone that the castle was made out of. It looked like any number of the medieval monasteries Jeremy had seen photographs of — a large rectangle flanked by a long hall and a few sprawling additions — only in much better shape than one might expect. At least, that was what he thought until he noticed that almost half of the monastery had collapsed. The roof had fallen through part of the chapel and the rooms next to it, and loose stones were scattered across the lawn next to the building.

But, there was no one else in sight. It seemed that Guibert hadn’t been lying — he was well and truly on his own.

Mozart began to squirm, then she hopped down out of Jeremy’s windbreaker and started to wander over to the monastery, her tail perked up as she sniffed everything around her.

“Wow,” Aggie said, staring at it. “So I guess this is the secret monastery?”

Guibert suddenly appeared at the front corner of the building. “Not such a secret to those who know where to look,” he called to them, unamused. “Follow me.” He turned and started walking away from the monastery, towards what Jeremy now realized was a line of cliffs.

After exchanging a glance with the others, Jeremy led the way, brushing a hand along the wall of the monastery as they passed. The stones were warm, reassuringly solid, which told him this wasn’t a dream. He looked in through the broken wall, and saw the interior of the chapel. There were a few rows of worn wooden pews, and a plain stone altar. Above it all loomed a large, lumpy wooden cross.

Jeremy frowned and looked again. The lumps weren’t lumps at all, but rather the figure of a dragon, its body wrapped around the cross like a ribbon, its mouth open in a silent, scenting roar. Its eyes pinned him where he stood, and he took a breath, looking away.

There was a cluster of small, sparse trees on top of the cliffs, and again, Guibert waited for them to catch up, his arms crossed against his chest. “Watch where you step,” he told them. “The rocks are a little loose, sometimes.”

Jeremy looked down, past where Guibert was standing, and his stomach swooped unhelpfully. Below them was a fifty-foot drop to the beach, where only a short stretch of rolling rocks and sand separated them from the ocean. He felt dizzy as he watched the waves placidly trundling into shore, and not just from the height — Jeremy had no idea they’d been taken this close to the coast, and from the look on Colin’s face, he hadn’t realized it, either.

“Now,” said Guibert, “please keep your heads when you see what I am about to show you. I don’t have time for any theatrics.” He turned and continued along the cliff line, then down a short slope and around a corner, disappearing from view.

“Theatrics,” Aggie mimicked, followed by a snort. “Says the guy who spied on us.”

For once, Jeremy said nothing. Steeling himself, he again followed in Guibert’s footsteps, the others and Mozart close behind. The narrow path turned sharply into the hillside, exposing a wall of jagged, sandy rock that loomed beside them, and the ground below their feet turned to shale. They rounded the corner, and suddenly, they were in a clearing of sorts.

A huge cave was carved out of the hillside, yawning like a bestial mouth at the ocean below it, exposing an endless black throat. The opening loomed at least thirty feet above their heads, and Jeremy felt a ripple of cool, damp air hit his face.

And there, curled up at the entrance of the cave, was a dragon.