Cyrus shook his head slowly. Greeves continued. "Did Skelton give him anything before he died? The doctor always has a twisted reason for what he does. He's after something."

Antigone swung meaningful eyes onto her brother. "What's he after, Rus?"

Rupert waited. Cyrus chewed his lip. "I want to come."

Greeves crossed his thick arms. "I beg your pardon?"

"You said you were going to be looking for this Phoenix guy tonight." Cyrus cleared his throat. "I want to come. I can't stay here, sleeping in this ... bas.e.m.e.nt. I have to do something. Let me come."

Rupert Greeves leaned forward slowly until he was eye to eye with Cyrus. For a moment, the man simply stared, and Cyrus struggled not to squirm, not to blink or shuffle or look away. When Greeves finally spoke, his voice was soft. "Rightly or wrongly, you feel some guilt for this. Now, do you want to make yourself feel as if you are helping me find your brother, or do you want to truly help?" He didn't wait for an answer. "What does Phoenix want? Why take Daniel?"

Cyrus exhaled. "I don't even know who Phoenix is. How should I know what he wants?"

"Who is he?" Antigone blurted. "And don't say we don't need to know."

"Right," Greeves said. He ran a hand over his tightly shorn head. "Phoenix is someone I hope you never meet. In his own mind, he is the greatest of all altruists, philanthropist to the natural order, G.o.d to new races, savior to the world. In reality, he is a soul-crippled, subhuman devil of a man, part scientist, part sorcerer. He was expelled from the Order when I was young. He should be an old man now, but he still appears relatively young. I have no doubt that he robbed the collections of Ashtown before his expulsion, but there is very little order to them, and the darkest collections are sealed. Few people would miss anything. If I knew what he took, I might understand his weaknesses better. Then again, I might not. There may not be any weaknesses."

"What did he do to get kicked out?" Antigone asked.

The big man's jaw rippled, clenching. He pulled at his pointed beard. "The truth will not be rea.s.suring. Phoenix began by secretly conducting experiments-as cruel as can be imagined-on animals in the Order's zoo. He moved quickly to working on Acolytes, staff, and poor ignorant wretches he and his friends collected from the surrounding population-pulled from farmhouses, bus stops, schools...."

Rupert's scarred chest inflated. His eyes lost their focus. He was looking straight through the stone wall and into memory, seeing old horror. Cyrus glanced at his sister. Her eyes were wide, worried.

"Ten years ago," Rupert said quietly, "I found the ... remains ... of seven Acolytes hidden in the floor of his old rooms. I dug graves for them myself. Among the murdered was my elder brother, missing from my childhood. Also among them"-Rupert's eyes found Cyrus's, and they were heavy, glistening-"were the bodies of Harriet and Circe Smith." He turned to Antigone. "Your father's sisters."

Antigone blinked.

"What?" Cyrus said. "What? Our dad didn't have ... How do you know?"

"Because Phoenix labeled them." Rupert's voice was cold and level, his face undisturbed. "Phoenix is why I strove to become the Avengel, and I am why he lurks in shadow, afraid to show himself. The blood of the Order that he spilled is mine to avenge. And so help me G.o.d, I will leave his lifeless body to the birds so that he might be spattered across the land. But if, through witchcraft and devilry, he now numbers among the transmortaled, I will prepare for him a place in the Burials of Ashtown, deeper in anguish than any before him."

Cyrus swallowed. Antigone slid to the back of her bench. The big man's dark eyes had become stone.

"Keys," Cyrus said quietly, and he looked down at his own toes. Rupert's eyes were too uncomfortable to meet. "Skelton gave me his keys before he died. He told me to keep them safe."

The big man breathed in slowly and turned his face up to the ceiling. "And have you?" he asked.

Cyrus was confused. "Have I what?"

"Kept the keys safe."

Cyrus nodded. "Yeah. Well, I still have them."

"And whom have you told?" Rupert asked. "Who else may know what you're carrying?"

"Just Nolan," Cyrus said. "He's the only one."

"And there were two keys?" Rupert's eyes grew even darker.

"Yeah." Cyrus nodded. "Normal-looking. Old, I guess. One is small and silver, one's longer and gold, but the gold one was just to his truck."

"Mother Mary." Rupert breathed deep and shook his head. "Too many Skelton rumors prove to be true. No, Cyrus, the gold one was not just to his truck." He became suddenly worried. "He placed these keys in your hand? He gave them to you? You did not take them?"

Cyrus nodded.

Greeves seemed relieved. "Then Skelton has already given you more than you can imagine." He stepped toward Cyrus, blocking the ceiling lanterns with his shoulder. "With these two keys, was there anything else? Did Skelton speak to you about a tooth? Not a whole tooth. A shard? It would have been black. He might have called it a dragon's tooth."

Cyrus blinked. His neck was suddenly quite heavy.

"Reaper's Blade? Resurrection Stone? Anything like that?"

Cyrus glanced at his sister. Her eyes were wide, nervous, waiting for his decision. He looked back up at Rupert, and then he shook his head.

"Skelton didn't say anything." He swallowed. It wasn't really a lie. Skelton had been dead. Horace had done all the tooth talking.

Rupert's brows slid slowly down, and his eyes disappeared in shadow.

"Are you going to take the keys from me?" Cyrus asked quickly.

Greeves blinked, and the shadows on his face slid away in surprise. "Take them? Is that what you think of me? Cyrus, I am not a bullying thief. And if I were, Solomon Keys protect themselves. If I did force them from you, those keys would be deadly for me. For any mortal. They do not take kindly to theft. And if you gave them to me freely, they could never be returned to you. They are ancient, they are powerful, and no man living can know or understand the charms woven into them."

Cyrus burst out laughing.

Antigone, surprised, blinked daggers at him.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It's just that, well, we're talking about different keys. These are just regular old keys. They're not ancient at all."

"Where are they?" Rupert asked. He sat in the alcove across from Cyrus and leaned forward onto his knees. Seeing Cyrus hesitate, he quickly waved off his own question. "I understand your caution. The Order has not yet been kind to you. But when I am gone, test the keys and see if I am wrong. Soak them in water or try any lock you can find. Between one or the other of those keys, no door will remain closed to you." He grew suddenly stern. "But use them honestly, Cyrus Smith. Solomon Keys have made thieves of many good men, and having made them thieves, it is never long before those keys unlock a door that leads only to death."

Patricia adjusted herself invisibly on Cyrus's neck. Her cool body tickled.

Cyrus swallowed, tucking his hands beneath his legs to keep them down. The big man's dark eyes were still on him, reading Cyrus's face.

Greeves began to stand. "I will leave you now."

"No!" Antigone yelped. "No, no!" She stopped and collected herself. "Could you tell us more about our father first, about our family? Please. We didn't even know that he had sisters. Did you know them?"

Greeves eased himself back down.

With nervous fingers, Antigone tucked her hair behind her ears. "And the guy with the tiny mustache said our dad got kicked out of this place. Why? What did he do?"

Patricia moved again, and Cyrus grabbed at her while Greeves watched his sister. For a moment, her silver body twisted in the air, and then she was gone, wrapped tightly around Cyrus's hand. The keys rested in his palm. With his free hand, he scratched at his itching neck. Tiny blisters broke beneath his nails.

Rupert glanced at him and turned back to Antigone. "Your father was expelled, yes. And yes, I knew him. And I knew his sisters."

Rupert's eyes emptied, and he stared out of the hole at the Polygon's plank pathways. His deep, accented voice rolled up quietly from his chest.

"We met when we were eight. I had just come from England for my first time. We often competed, as had our fathers and our grandfathers. We were rivals, but only until I realized that we were not." Greeves almost smiled. "Lawrence was not unhappy if I beat him-not if the sun shone on the waves, and the wind was kissing the water. In mood, I was a shark, he was a dolphin. And the dolphin overpowered me.

"By the age of ten, we were brothers in soul. Our families contracted the same tutors, but as we could not both be the best of the Acolytes at everything, we chose to alternate victories. He at fencing, I at shooting, he at diving, I at flying, and so on. Our tutors would have been furious if they'd known.

"When my brother and Lawrence's sisters disappeared, our bond grew even stronger. When his older brother was killed in the Congo, again we grew closer. My own parents died in a plane crash in Ethiopia. His parents died of slow grief, mourning his siblings. In a few short years, he was the beginning and end of my family, and I of his. Together, we became Journeymen and then Explorers. We walked the world searching out the deepest shadows, the darkest evils. Though we never spoke of it, I knew we were both searching for death.

"But then, more than twenty years ago, on the verge of rising to Keeper, we trekked into the mountain jungles of Guiana in northern Brazil. We barely escaped."

Cyrus watched Rupert's calloused hand reach for the open collar of his shirt and the tangled scars on his chest.

"But we did escape, and we returned to Ashtown with many strange things. The strangest of all was your mother."

"What?" Cyrus sat up. "What do you mean?"

"Her name was Cataan-the name of her people. She became Katie to us, and bringing her back to Ashtown was a direct violation of modern Order policies. To make things worse, your father wanted to marry her. The Sages were amenable, but the Keepers absolutely refused to sanction the union. For the first time, your father and I grew apart. Lawrence defied the Order, and was befriended by other defiant elements as a result-Skelton became his confidant. He married Katie and lost everything. After centuries, the Smiths were gone from the Order. Until now."

"You're telling the truth?" Antigone asked. "This is real?"

"It is," said Greeves.

"We knew Mom was Brazilian." Antigone looked at her brother. "But I thought they met when she was a student."

"Oh, she was a student. But she's not Brazilian." Rupert rose to his feet. "She is Cataan-one of the daughters of an ancient and forgotten people. Look at your hair. Look at your skin. They are her gifts to you." He smiled and stepped toward the hole. "Good night."

"Wait," Antigone said. "Don't just leave. Can't you tell us the whole story?"

Greeves stopped, and for a moment, his pointed beard hung beneath a wide grin. "Good night," he said again, and the smile was gone. "I have a hunt to join."

Antigone jumped to her feet. "You said our dad had an older brother, too. What was his name?"

"Daniel," Rupert said. "Your uncle's name was Daniel." Ducking his shorn head out the hole, Greeves disappeared. Planks rattled beneath his weight.

"Cyrus ..." Antigone turned slowly to face her brother. Her eyes were wide.

"What do you want me to say?" Cyrus asked. "No wonder that kid in the hall called us primitives."

"Should I douse the lights?" Rupert's voice echoed through the hole.

"No!" Antigone sat back down and her legs began bouncing.

"Go ahead!" Cyrus yelled.

"Fine!" Antigone yelled. "Thanks for the blankets."

The lights throughout the Polygon punched off. Only the little lanterns in the center of the small crypt remained, glowing dull orange.

The big door boomed shut.

Antigone stood and tucked a fresh pillow beneath Nolan's sweat-soaked head. Then, grabbing Cyrus by the arm, she pulled him to his feet.

Together, wordless, minds chewing, they emptied two of the other alcoves as completely and as neatly as they could. Blankets were folded. Blankets were spread. Pillows were placed, and two new beds were born. With the piles of pillows from Greeves and Nolan, cold stone became comfortable. Antigone turned off two of Nolan's three lanterns.

Out in the darkness, Whip Spiders roamed free, clicking as they crept, clattering as they fell from oiled walls. Beneath his blanket, Cyrus stared at the ceiling.

"Cy," Antigone said quietly. "We're not from California." She rolled up onto her side, facing her brother across the room. "We're from here."

Cyrus felt anger surge through him, but he clamped his mouth shut. He wanted to be tired. He didn't want to think.

"Cyrus? Seriously, two aunts, an uncle, grandparents? This is where we're supposed to be."

Cyrus forced his jaw to relax. "Night, Tigs," he said, and he turned his face to the wall.

"Cyrus, you are not going to sleep right now, and you are going to talk about this. This isn't a math test that you won't show me, or an English paper that-for some absurd reason-you feel the need to sink in a creek."

Nolan snored. Cyrus heard Antigone sit back up. A shoe bounced off Cyrus's shoulder blades. He didn't move.

"Will you sit up and stop acting like you do at school, please? This is me, not some grief counselor. All this stuff ... Cy, it changes who we are."

Cyrus pressed his forehead against the stone and let the cold tighten his skin. "No, it doesn't, Tigs. I am who I am. I'm not changing, and I'm not talking about it."

His sister sputtered and her blankets rustled. She was giving up.

"You shouldn't have lied to Greeves about the tooth. Do you even want it? What good's it going to do?"

She was right. Why did he need the tooth? For a trade? No. He'd pa.s.sed on that already. Did he want to raise the dead? No. Yes. But he didn't know how he would even start. His father had been lost at sea. Beneath his blanket, he gripped the keys against his wrist. The metal sheath was warm. He clicked it open and closed his hand around the tooth. A cold current shot up through his arm. Frozen bone.

"I'll tell him," he said quietly. "Okay?"

"When?"

Cyrus inhaled slowly. "Tomorrow. Next time I see him. Good enough?"

"Tonight would have been better."

"Want me to go after him now?"

"Yeah." Antigone exhaled and began to yawn. "You do that. Fix everything. In the dark. With spiders."

She was relaxing. Her breathing evened out, blending with Nolan's.

"Night, Tigs."

"Night, Cy. Russell."

"Tigger."

He waited for the counter, but it didn't come. Antigone groaned softly. The crippled clock counted off five minutes, and then ten. Cyrus listened to its beat mingle with Nolan's painful moanings and his sister's muddled whispers. He listened to the click of spider whips and distant echoes through the stone. He slept. And he woke. And he slept again. He turned and he rolled and he tangled his feet in his blankets.

Dan was gone. Gone. And he, Cyrus, was doing nothing.

He sat up, swinging his bare feet down to the ta.s.sels of a Turkish rug.