Credence didn't bother to knock.
She pushed open the door to the Headmaster's office and slipped inside before slamming it behind her.
She didn't care if she had been seen, or if any of the domestics were following behind to dole out punishment.
More than anything she feared Penny had followed her.
She had to tell the Headmaster what she saw, had to notify him immediately—
But the Headmaster was not there. His ornate desk was vacant.
It was a discomforting discovery, for where else would the Headmaster be at this time?
What would happen if Penny found Credence before he did?
Whatever lecture the Headmaster would dispense with, Penny's revenge would be far worse.
It was the height of rule-breaking to intrude, and even though Credence had been there before, it was never by herself, and never without permission.
But she would remain in the room, and damn the consequences that fell on her for it.
When I explain what I saw, Credence thought as her heart pounded against her chest, he'll understand why I had to come here.
The image of the branch sprouting from Penny's shoulder flashed in her mind.
Credence couldn't guess what caused such a gruesome aberration, but she hoped the Headmaster might have a comforting theory for it.
Minutes ticked by and her heart slowed to a steady beat. She slumped onto the ground, leaning against the door with her knees tucked into her chest.
Her gaze wandered over the room. She'd seen it twice before, but only now had the freedom to inspect it at her leisure. There was a painting Credence hadn't noticed before, an intricate image of a clearing in a forest, where three children were sitting on the ground and looking up at a tall figure in a dark robe.
At the bottom of the painting was a golden plaque with an engraving that read, 'Furst Skool'.
There was something about the image, which looked innocuous at a glance, that unsettled Credence the longer she looked at it. The more closely she examined it, the more details she noticed, like the pair of eyes peeking through a bush, or the trunk of a tree in the background that, when she squinted, sported a twisted face.
She turned from the painting, having deemed it a little too grim, when an abrupt noise made her jump.
It sounded like a knock, like someone banging their fist against—
It had come from the floor.
Credence believed she imagined it, that her mind was playing terrible tricks in her agitated state, until a second thump came from beneath her feet.
Then a third.
Then a fourth.
On the fifth pound, Credence saw the rug under the Headmaster's desk move, just the slightest, barely perceptible trembling, but there could be no mistake that the knocking was coming from under it.
It's none of my business, she told herself.
After what she'd seen, Credence did not wish to invite any more horror onto herself, so she remained seated near the door.
Another round of knocking began, and at the end of it, a voice spoke.
It sounded like a man, but his words were too muffled to understand.
Hesitantly, Credence thumped the floor with her foot.
A burst of desperate knocking answered back.
She waited for it to die before tapping against the floor in a rhythm. The knocking responded, repeating exactly as she had tapped.
Knock. Knock-knock. Knock. Knock-knock.
The floor answered.
Knock. Knock-knock. Knock. Knock-knock.
Credence stood, the hair on her arms raised in warning. She looked at the door, wondering where the Headmaster could be—and if she should risk a meeting with the thing beneath the floor. There was no perceivable lock on the door for Credence to turn, so whatever she might do, she would remain under the threat of someone entering at any moment.
And what would she find under the floor?
The knocking began again, gently this time, now that it knew it was being heard. Like it was trying to communicate with Credence, to tell her she had nothing to fear. The muffled voice spoke again, and it sounded calmer, though still unintelligible.
It's showing a semblance of etiquette, Credence thought, that means it can think.
What if it had been put there for a reason?
Credence knew better than many that even the most dangerous things could appear friendly and mild.
What if a student was put there as punishment?
What if it was Adam?
Instead of frightening her into stillness, the thought gave her courage to act. If Adam needed saving, she ought to answer his plea for help.
Choose kindness.
Wicked though they may have been, her parents' mantra was the one good thing imparted to their daughter.
But they had not raised a fool.
Credence moved to the Headmaster's desk and found a fist-sized decorative weight perched atop a pile of papers. She picked it up and turned it in her hand.
If the thing beneath the floor meant her harm, she'd have an answer for that, too.
She tapped on the floor with her foot, receiving a rhythmic reply from directly below. After one last glance at the door, she threw the corner of the rug aside and raised the weight in preparation for an attack.
A hatch stared back at her, with no handle or knob to open it.
There was only a small hole in want of a key.
Credence knocked on the hatch.
Knock-knock-knock.
The reply was instantaneous.
KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK.
She leaned in and put her mouth close to the keyhole.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "There's no way to open the door from this side."
There was a pause before a low, croaking voice spoke.
"The key is in the desk." Credence blinked, unsure if she really heard the voice. "Top drawer, to the right. Please, hurry!"
"Why are you in there?"
"That monster, that thing—put me here!"
"What monster?" She shook her head. "Do you mean the Headmaster?"
"I'm the headmaster!"
Doubt and alarm swirled in her stomach. Whatever was beneath the hatch, it had to be lying.
It was probably trying to lure her into freeing it.
"How do I know you're not the monster? The Headmaster probably locked you away to keep the school safe."
"I'm far safer here than any of you. That thing you call 'Headmaster' is not human, and it doesn't care for any child."
"He's always been kind to me. I trust him."
"Do you?" The tone in the voice made her shiver. "More's the pity for you, for if you trust it, you've already doomed yourself." The voice paused before adding, "It changes shape. It can look like anything it wants, so long as it touches it first. That's how it tricked me. It took the form of a student and came to my office under the guise of asking a question. Then it attacked."
"When?"
"I don't know. It feels like ages now..."
Credence thought for a moment before asking, "Do you recognize my voice?"
"No. Are you a student? What's your name?"
Caution kept her from answering with her own name. She couldn't see what was under the floor, and she'd learned long ago that some creatures, like the Fae, those wretched cousins to fairies, only needed to learn a person's real name to compel them into their bidding.
"My name is Galeia."
A long pause followed.
"I know that name," the voice answered at last. "It wasn't a student. It...No, we've no time—you're in danger, Galeia, and so is everyone at the school. Please, I beg you, fetch the key from the desk, top drawer on the right as I said. Unlock this door and free me!"
"What will you do if I let you free?"
"I'll kill it," came the severe reply, "and take back my school. The children will be safe again."
"I don't trust you."
"You must! For your own life, please!"
"The Headmaster is gentle and kind."
"How else would a beast lure you into its jaws?"
She had no reason to trust this stranger. She didn't even know what it looked like. Caution told her it had been put beneath the floor for a reason—
Credence couldn't help entertaining the possibility that it was telling the truth. The Headmaster had convinced her that nothing was amiss at the school, making her doubt her instincts. But instinct had been the very thing she was always told to listen to.
From the start she had seen cracks in the pristine school and those who ran it, and the Headmaster was always there to calmly explain that her suspicion was not only misplaced, it was dangerous.
But what had brought her into the Headmaster's room, even this very night?
Unsettling events. A branch sprouting from Penny's arm.
Credence hesitated. "If you can prove that you're telling the truth, I will fetch the key and unlock the door."
"How am I supposed to do that?"
"That's not my concern. You best do it quickly before someone enters the room."
Credence glanced at the door. She considered forgetting the voice and throwing the rug back over the hatch to wait for the Headmaster.
"There might be a way...can you read, Galeia?"
"Yes."
"Good. In the desk there will be a list. It will look harmless, just rows of names, but it's a record of victims. A trophy. There is a box, too, and it will be locked. The list may be underneath that box."
"How do you know of such a list?"
"Because the creature talks to me. It gloats over what it's done."
"What's in the locked box?"
"I don't know, but the monster is fiercely protective of it. Whatever's inside is more important to it than anything in the world."
"Where is the key to the box?"
"Always in a pocket, somewhere on its body—don't think of trying to retrieve it."
Credence rose from the floor, her heart pounding in her ears, and moved behind the desk, where she found several drawers of varying sizes. She opened the one on the top right and retrieved a small black key, the one that would unlock the hatch.
"Which drawer contains the box and the list?"
The voice had instructed her where to look for the key to the hatch, but had given no indication of where the other items might be.
"I don't know that either. You'll have to look."
The notion of rifling through the Headmaster's private belongings did not sit comfortably with her. If the voice was lying and the Headmaster was just an ordinary man, a good man, she would be committing a grievous violation.
She pushed her concerns away and opened a random drawer. It contained nothing of interest, just a mound of papers with numbers, which turned out to be the expenses of the school.
"My name is Frederick, by the way," the voice said as she was searching.
"I know that name."
"You do? You've heard my name before then? From someone close to you—a family member?"
"No," Credence said, her attention focused on the contents of another drawer, "but that's the name of the headmaster I know."
The one I trust.
"He was introduced to me as Headmaster Frederick."
The fourth and fifth drawers weren't any better than the first three in their offerings, containing a few pairs of folded pants and shirts, the uniform of school, and a pile of empty glass medicine vials with cork stoppers.
The more she looked, the more she found nothing out of the ordinary.
Credence sighed, ready to give up on the task, when she pulled on a small drawer near the center. It didn't budge. A keyhole signaled it had a lock.
There were no keys to unlock it, unless—
Would the key to the hatch open it?
She slipped it into the keyhole and turned it, and was satisfied when the telling click indicated the lock's release.
The drawer opened.
Inside was a carved wooden box, a beautiful object painted with a depiction of a lush forest. Testing her luck, Credence tried the black key in the box's lock, but it was far too big to fit. She lifted the box from the drawer to see what lay beneath.
Parchment.
Several sheets of it, many greatly worn by time. Upon those sheets was elegant writing, row after row of ink—
A list of names.
Credence didn't recognize any of them.
"I think I've found the list," she called softly to the voice, "but I don't see how this is proof of what you say."
"Those are the names of children. Dating back to a time before either of us, before this school. The beast has roamed the world collecting them."
"Collecting them?"
That word made her skin prickle.
"It's proud of those names. It views them as accomplishments, but it doesn't realize those names lead a trail right to it. It's been devouring people since time began."
"Devouring?"
"It likes to take its time. It changes them first."
"Changes them into what?"
"Trees. It drinks the sap, the very blood of all those poor souls turned thick and sweet. This way it can feed on a child for centuries if it wishes."
Credence nearly dropped the lists. The trees in the courtyard. It wasn't an orchard, it was a living grave. And those trees were not trees, but people.
"That's....that's not true," she said, though her voice betrayed her attempt at courage.
What was it Gregory said about them? They were planted in remembrance of four students who died.
But they hadn't died, they were still at the school, sitting in plain view. The Headmaster's personal feast growing from the ground.
Credence began shuffling through the pages, scanning the names as fast as she could. When she reached the final parchment she found it only half-filled. Her finger moved through the list until she got to the bottom—
She dropped the pages with a gasp.
She'd seen them, two names written, the ones she had desperately hoped would be absent:
'Adam (no family)'
'Penny Glenn (living family of herders)'
She picked up the last page from the floor, having dropped it before finishing with the final name written.
'Credence (no family)'
Her name had been crossed out with several sharp lines, and a hastily scribbled note next to it read, 'Bought by Cinder. Could be replaced?'
She fell into the Headmaster's chair, reading her name over and over.
"I do hope you don't see a friend on that list, Galeia," the voice said sympathetically. "I hope even more you don't see your name."
Credence swallowed a hard lump before finding her voice. "How does he change you?"
"By feeding you the very essence of what keeps it strong. The sap of its victims. Drink too much and the change is unstoppable."
Her mind flashed to Adam drinking an entire bucket of it. Penny must have been given a copious amount too, perhaps during her time in the infirmary.
Were the domestics helping?
"What if you don't drink a lot of it," Credence asked carefully, not sure she wanted to hear the answer. "What if you only have a small amount every day?"
"Is that what it's been doing?" the voice gasped in disgust. "If you and all of the other students have been drinking it, I doubt it will change you—but what a clever, hideous way to prepare its prey."
"He calls it 'medicine'. He says it keeps us healthy."
"Keeps you on the cusp of a change most likely. To make it easier and quicker once a victim has been chosen."
And I've been taking my daily serving, Credence thought.
She remembered the Headmaster's offer on the night she confronted him about Adam. He'd suggested proving his innocence by letting her drink a bucket, too.
The note beside her scratched-out name suddenly made sense.
'Bought by Cinder. Could be replaced? '
He had considered getting rid of Credence and finding someone else to take her place.
He lied about everything—
Had he lied about Pa?
She touched the bandages around her arm.
"Do you believe me, Galeia? Will you help me now?"
Credence nodded, though the voice could not see her.
"I will help you."
"Please, open the door. I'll end that monster's reign, and it'll never hurt an innocent child again."
She moved swiftly to the floor and plunged the key into the hatch's lock.
"There's no handle," Credence said. "Can you push from the other side?"
"No. You'll need to use something to pry it up."
She found a fire poker and wedged it between the hatch and floor. With a heavy grunt and a fair amount of straining, Credence finally lifted the door, and it fell open with a loud THUD against the rug.
Credence peered inside, anxious to see the real Headmaster.
Darkness, and nothing more, stared back up.
For an unsettling moment Credence feared she may not have been talking to anyone at all.
"Are you there?" she whispered, leaning in slightly to see if she could spot movement below.
"I'm here, but it's a long way down. You'll have to help me." As an afterthought, the voice added, "Please."
Something pricked her conviction, a sliver of hesitation that warned her against leaning further over the edge. A memory came to her, of a time when Josiah was standing over a pit of sharp sticks.
The voice had been honest. The voice led her to the Headmaster's horrible secrets.
Why was she now hesitant to help it in return?
She shook the caution from her mind and leaned over the edge of the hatch, offering her arm to the darkness.
"Take my hand. I'll pull you out."
"Don't be afraid, Galeia. I beg you."
From below came long, pointed fingers. They brushed against her hand and scratched her skin.
Branches. Stretching towards her. One of their points caught the edge of her shirt and tugged it.
"Wait," Credence cried, "you'll pull me in!"
Another branch interlocked with her fingers.
"Stop!" Credence yelled and without thinking she called upon the one element she knew would respond—
Fire erupted in her palm and Credence caught a glimpse of what lurked beneath the floor:
A man, his face pale and skeletal, stared at her in shock. He was identical to the Headmaster, but far less handsome from malnutrition and isolation in the dark. He didn't look like the Headmaster she knew, but the ghost of him. Where his arms and hands should have been were boughs of twisted and gnarled sticks, and constricting his torso were long, white, ropelike roots.
Half-man, half-tree.
"Do you have any sap?" the man hissed and the wind of his breath smelled like rain-drenched leaves. "I need more!"
Credence gasped in horror, just as the fire kissed the bark holding her. The branches released her and the man screamed in pain. The fire was doused instantly as Credence lost her balance and almost fell through the door—but she caught herself just in time and landed on her back atop the rug behind her. As quick as she could, Credence slammed the hatch door and drove the key into its lock.
From below, a guilt-ridden voice spoke, "I'm sorry, Galeia. I don't know why—"
Credence threw the rug over the hatch and returned the key to its drawer. She put the box and the cursed lists of names in their place and covered the last traces of her presence by putting the poker next to the fire and the decorative weight back on the desk.
She had to leave, but where would she go?
She couldn't return to bed, not after what she learned.
Just as her hand reached for the door, Credence heard a voice on the other side.
The Headmaster.
He was here.
She was trapped.