The Garden of Darkness

“Something’s changed between those two,” said Mirri to Sarai.

“It’s what we talked about, I bet,” said Sarai. “They must’ve finally figured it out.”

Clare, when she was to look back later, was to wish those moments had no end. She stood with Jem, remembering how he had kissed her, how she had kissed him back, and thinking ahead to the infinity of time before them. She could see that Ramah looked worried, and Dante was frightened, but she couldn’t feel anything but joy, and not just the joy of being at that moment with Jem, but the joy of being with Jem in the years that suddenly and miraculously had opened out before them all.

But something had to be done about the Master and the Master’s children. Clare couldn’t help but think that it would be so much easier just to leave the children. She didn’t want to take them in at Thyme House, even temporarily. Another thought occurred to her.

“What if the Cured have overrun Thyme House,” said Clare, “while we’re here?”

“We didn’t leave Thyme House empty,” said Mirri. “We left Sam and Becca there—you remember, pregnant Becca. They showed up right before we left. They looked just the way you described them. Not that you needed to describe much about Becca. She’s huge.”

“Sam and Becca,” said Jem. “I’m glad.”

“We put the leeches on them,” said Mirri. “For Sam it was just in time. He already had the marks on his neck. Becca cried until he was better.”

And that’s when Britta and Doug and several of the others came out of the Master’s mansion and walked down the steps into the courtyard.

When Britta saw Clare, she stopped.

“You should be dead,” she said. “This isn’t possible.”

“Actually, I feel pretty good.” And it was true, Clare did feel pretty good—more than pretty good. She felt terrific. She felt as if all her senses had come alive. “You can be cured, too,” Clare said. “You don’t need Master. The blue-eyed ones don’t need to die.”

“Master’s building a new world,” said Britta. “And he’s said there is no cure. You’re just some weird lucky exception. And the blue-eyed ones he takes would die anyway—just like the rest of us.”

“Their sacrifice builds community,” said Doug.

“Ignorance is strength,” muttered Ramah.

“Come with us,” said Jem. “There’re better places to be. You don’t need Master.”

“Nothing you can say makes any difference to us,” said Britta.

“I weren’t nothin’ before Master,” said Charlie.

“That’s right, Charlie,” said Doug.

“And I seen that girl what has the dog before,” said Charlie. “In the dark place. Her and the boy. Them two makes things happen. Them two is—” Charlie seemed to reach down deep into his vocabulary—“perilous.”

Then Clare heard a quick intake of breath. She turned and looked. On the path that led to the gate was the Master. He was striding towards them. And he was smiling.

There was a sudden tussle as Jem tried to push Clare behind him, and Clare tried to push Jem behind her. Clare was still weak; Jem won. The Master couldn’t see her as he greeted them.

“Hello,” said the Master. His smile was so broad that he was absolutely beaming. He turned to his children. “I believe our guests are just leaving,” he said.

Perhaps he really had intended for them to leave. Perhaps not. Clare was never to know. He pushed Jem aside suddenly, and as soon as he saw her smooth and glowing face, he ceased to smile. The change was as sudden as snakebite.

“You’re alive,” he said.

“Yes,” said Clare.

He stared at her neck. “No more marks of Pest. And no patch. I guess you’re not leaving after all, Clare.”

“We’re going home,” said Jem. “All of us. And I think that these other children are going to come, too.”

The Master sighed. Clare thought that he probably preferred the anonymous blue-eyed children in the photographs he kept in his secret box to the living, breathing riddles that lived with him.

“You have a real cure, Clare,” said the Master. “Give me the cure, and I’ll let you go.”

“Your world’s over,” said Clare.

“Do you know why they call me ‘Master’ instead of ‘Doctor Sylver’?”

Abel spoke up. “Because it sounds really scary?”

Dr. Sylver frowned. “Because since Pest, I’ve shaped everything the way I want it. The world is mine, and I can make what I like of it.”

“No,” said Clare. “You can’t.”

“You’re just an ignorant little girl who’s out of her depth,” said Dr. Sylver. “You’ve happened on a cure for Pest, and you have the eyes I’ve been waiting for my whole life. I want it. And I want you.”

“Not happening,” said Jem.

“Yes. It is.”

“Do you really think we’re going to let that happen?” said Jem.

And that’s when the Master pulled out the gun. “If you don’t give me the cure,” said the Master, “I’ll shoot. It’s very simple.”