Cyrus. Everyone looked at him. “Dennis, there
is
something you could do to help. Do you think you could find some patches? I would do it, but I’m stuck.”
“Patches?” Dennis asked. “More monkey patches? We already have extras, and I really don’t think it’s advisableto wear them publicly—your leather jacket is the exception, of course. That patch is historical, and predates the Polygoners’ use of the—”
“No,” Cyrus said. “A crest, I guess. A patch of a crest. I want the Smith family crest.”
Nolan’s eyes darkened. Cyrus thought he could feel dust and shadow creeping out of them. One more thing he couldn’t get used to.
“You like trouble that much?” Nolan asked, his voice cold. He shrugged. “Of course, you’ll be stuck in here. No one will see it.”
“People will see it,” Cyrus said. “Eventually. I’m a Smith. I mean, Captain John Smith? Jamestown? Pocahontas?” He looked at Antigone. “Tigs, we have a famous ancestor. You all are used to that around here, but we’re not. I don’t care how many greats away he is … it’s our family, and I want to wear our crest.”
Nolan chuckled. “He’s not that far away, Cyrus Smith. He’s buttoned up in one of the Burials. You have a famous ancestor turned transmortal villain. Take my word for it, Cyrus. He was not a nice man. No one liked him.”
“Cy,” Antigone said. “Three severed heads? It’s gross.”
Dennis, wide-eyed, looked from face to face and back to Cyrus, waiting for his decision.
Cyrus looked at Diana. She shrugged. “It’s your crest. I have ours on some stuff, but I don’t wear it often. Jebwas more into it than I was when we were little. Still, I’d be mad if people told me I couldn’t wear it.”
“Oh, I’m not saying that,” said Nolan. He shot Cyrus half a smile. “But everyone has always loved the Boones. No one—except Pocahontas—loved John Smith. He was more brawler and pirate than Avengel. I never met him, and I made sure I didn’t. The man was crazy.” Nolan stretched back out on the floor. “Before you flash around that crest, know that you’re waving the flag of a man who betrayed his own oaths and was Buried for it. Those three severed heads are his most famous kills—three severed transmortal heads. This isn’t the week to make that popular.”
Dennis sputtered to life. “Those men were evil. My grandmother told me those stories. Captain John did what he had to do.”
Nolan yawned. “And Cyrus had to kill Maxi, but that doesn’t matter to creatures like Gil. Cyrus had no authority to do what he did. We transmortals—sorry,
immortals
, if you ask the posh ones—are the superior race. You mortals must bow and scrape before us. Cap’n John killed more of us than anyone in history, before he pulled a switch and was Buried. Cyrus here has carried on the great killing tradition.”
Cyrus looked at Dennis. “As many Smith patches as you can. And I need a couple Ashtown boat patches, too.”
Antigone hopped over Nolan and sat down besideCyrus. “Are there any books that would have the whole story?” she asked Dennis. “Could you find one? I want to know what John Smith really did before I’m going to let Cyrus march around with three heads on his shoulder.”
Cyrus and Nolan both snorted.
“Before you let me?” Cyrus asked.
“A book?” Nolan asked. “You don’t believe me, fine. But turning to a book? I was actually alive at the time, though I gave wild Virginia a wide berth.” He nudged Dennis with his foot. “Make sure the author’s last name is Smith. That way it will be fair.”
Antigone rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Nolan. Like you’re Mr. Honest.” She smiled at Dennis. “Just do your best.”
Dennis, blinking slowly, stood up and set his bowler hat on top of his head. The loose ribbon ties dangled against his cheeks.
“I’m not sure, I … understand what …” His voice trailed off.
“Just a book,” Antigone said. “Whatever you can
is
something you could do to help. Do you think you could find some patches? I would do it, but I’m stuck.”
“Patches?” Dennis asked. “More monkey patches? We already have extras, and I really don’t think it’s advisableto wear them publicly—your leather jacket is the exception, of course. That patch is historical, and predates the Polygoners’ use of the—”
“No,” Cyrus said. “A crest, I guess. A patch of a crest. I want the Smith family crest.”
Nolan’s eyes darkened. Cyrus thought he could feel dust and shadow creeping out of them. One more thing he couldn’t get used to.
“You like trouble that much?” Nolan asked, his voice cold. He shrugged. “Of course, you’ll be stuck in here. No one will see it.”
“People will see it,” Cyrus said. “Eventually. I’m a Smith. I mean, Captain John Smith? Jamestown? Pocahontas?” He looked at Antigone. “Tigs, we have a famous ancestor. You all are used to that around here, but we’re not. I don’t care how many greats away he is … it’s our family, and I want to wear our crest.”
Nolan chuckled. “He’s not that far away, Cyrus Smith. He’s buttoned up in one of the Burials. You have a famous ancestor turned transmortal villain. Take my word for it, Cyrus. He was not a nice man. No one liked him.”
“Cy,” Antigone said. “Three severed heads? It’s gross.”
Dennis, wide-eyed, looked from face to face and back to Cyrus, waiting for his decision.
Cyrus looked at Diana. She shrugged. “It’s your crest. I have ours on some stuff, but I don’t wear it often. Jebwas more into it than I was when we were little. Still, I’d be mad if people told me I couldn’t wear it.”
“Oh, I’m not saying that,” said Nolan. He shot Cyrus half a smile. “But everyone has always loved the Boones. No one—except Pocahontas—loved John Smith. He was more brawler and pirate than Avengel. I never met him, and I made sure I didn’t. The man was crazy.” Nolan stretched back out on the floor. “Before you flash around that crest, know that you’re waving the flag of a man who betrayed his own oaths and was Buried for it. Those three severed heads are his most famous kills—three severed transmortal heads. This isn’t the week to make that popular.”
Dennis sputtered to life. “Those men were evil. My grandmother told me those stories. Captain John did what he had to do.”
Nolan yawned. “And Cyrus had to kill Maxi, but that doesn’t matter to creatures like Gil. Cyrus had no authority to do what he did. We transmortals—sorry,
immortals
, if you ask the posh ones—are the superior race. You mortals must bow and scrape before us. Cap’n John killed more of us than anyone in history, before he pulled a switch and was Buried. Cyrus here has carried on the great killing tradition.”
Cyrus looked at Dennis. “As many Smith patches as you can. And I need a couple Ashtown boat patches, too.”
Antigone hopped over Nolan and sat down besideCyrus. “Are there any books that would have the whole story?” she asked Dennis. “Could you find one? I want to know what John Smith really did before I’m going to let Cyrus march around with three heads on his shoulder.”
Cyrus and Nolan both snorted.
“Before you let me?” Cyrus asked.
“A book?” Nolan asked. “You don’t believe me, fine. But turning to a book? I was actually alive at the time, though I gave wild Virginia a wide berth.” He nudged Dennis with his foot. “Make sure the author’s last name is Smith. That way it will be fair.”
Antigone rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Nolan. Like you’re Mr. Honest.” She smiled at Dennis. “Just do your best.”
Dennis, blinking slowly, stood up and set his bowler hat on top of his head. The loose ribbon ties dangled against his cheeks.
“I’m not sure, I … understand what …” His voice trailed off.
“Just a book,” Antigone said. “Whatever you can
Similar Books
