A Proper Education: Chapter Twenty-Seven

Credence must have been asleep, for the next thing she knew, she woke up.

Cloth surrounded her face, and it sucked against her mouth each time she took a breath, making it difficult to inhale without choking.

She was in a chair, but where the chair sat remained a mystery.

Had she slept through the real Headmaster's revolt?

Her heart began to race.

Had he failed?

When a gentle breeze kissed the skin of her arms, Credence discerned she was outside. Before she could begin to guess why, the cloth was torn from her head with a violent yank.

Through the curtain of hair over her eyes she could make out flickering lights—candles—dozens of them around her.

"Is it awake?" the voice of a domestic grunted.

Credence tried to crane her neck to see behind her, but strong hands grabbed her head and turned it forward, and wiped the hair and sweat from her eyes so Credence could see clearly.

It was night and she was in the courtyard.

And she was far from alone.

Every last student was there, dressed in their bedclothes. They were standing as still as stone, this forest of bodies, with their hands clasped together and held out in front of them.

In each of their grasp was a burning candle. They had obviously been standing for quite some time, for the candles were half-melted and a thin coat of drippings had dried their fingers—though no one gave any sign that the hot wax discomforted them.

They were staring straight ahead, trancelike, and the only movement came from the slow, sporadic blinking that every so often sent a tear down a smooth cheek.

The candlelight enhanced their gaunt faces, making them look like forgotten ghosts.

"What is—" Credence began, but the strong hand of a domestic swept across her face.

The force of the slap sent Credence to the ground, and when she managed to collect her breath and raise her head to look at her attacker she found with an ominous confusion that the old woman was gone.

The courtyard remained eerily silent, and the children scattered throughout it said nothing.

Credence got to her feet quickly and grabbed one of the students, an older boy she didn't know. He turned to her in a lazy, dreamlike movement, and when his eyes met hers they looked empty. He stared at her, but he could not see her.

She shook him and yelled in his ear to bring his senses back, but nothing roused him. The boy remained dazed, and when Credence let go of him he slowly returned to his original stance, staring ahead with his hands together.

Credence moved to another child, then another, but their response remained the same.

She was horrified when she came across one of her classmates, Lily, and as hard as she tried Credence could not wake her.

With no other course before her, Credence pushed through the crowd, following the direction of their gaze like a compass towards the center of the courtyard.

When she reached it, she found a tight cluster of children gathered in a circle, forming a wall between Credence and whatever stood behind.

She stepped towards them and the bodies parted like a gate, revealing a long table draped in gold and red silk, with several brass candlesticks standing throughout. There were three high-backed chairs, and set before each of those chairs was an empty plate, silver eating utensils, and an empty glass. Despite the suggestion of a forthcoming meal, there was no food to be found, neither on the table nor scenting the air. The only ingestible substance upon the table was water inside an extravagant golden pitcher.

In one of the chairs was a boy several years younger than Credence, who was bound by his wrists and gagged with a strip of cloth. Credence did not know him, but he seemed in control of himself and was not bewitched like the others. He was visibly shaking and staring at Credence in wide-eyed terror.

Leave, his eyes screamed, but there was nowhere for Credence to go.

Sitting in the second chair with a wicked grin on his face was the Headmaster.

The imposter.

He was elegantly dressed in a black surcoat with intricate golden threading and buttons, and a cotte of forest green beneath. It was a costume similar to the one he wore at the Auction, but without the white wig and jewelry. Meticulously drawn paint enhanced his lips and cheeks and eyes.

He would have made a rather dashing sight if not for the monster dwelling beneath his skin.

The last chair, on the Headmaster's left, remained empty.

"Ah, Credence," the Headmaster purred in welcome, "at last you join us." He raised an eyebrow. "Or is it...Galeia?"

Several hands took hold of Credence and dragged her to the table.

She thought it was the students who held her, but when she was thrown into the empty chair she realized it was the domestics—how did they move so quietly?

They tied her wrists to the arms of the chair and disappeared behind her.

The Headmaster eyed Credence with boredom and raised a strip of cloth before her face. He motioned with his head to the boy in the other chair.

"I had to bind Jof's mouth because he refused to be civil. Do I need to do the same to you—or shall we have a nice talk before dinner?"

Credence narrowed her eyes at him, hate filling every inch of her body.

"I can be civil."

The Headmaster snorted. "We'll see."

He grabbed the golden pitcher and filled the three glasses. Credence looked at the children around her and immediately regretted doing so. She saw faces she knew, including Gregory, and even poor Tildy, her small face stuck in a picture of stoicism, her eyes lost and empty.

"I knew there was something different about you," the Headmaster said, pulling Credence's attention back to him. "Your eyes always looked a little too curious. My instincts never lie."

"Whatever you think I've done, I promise—"

"Ah, ah, ah." The Headmaster wagged his finger. "There's no need for any more lies between us. I think we're all three past pretending, aren't we?"

"What are you really?" Credence asked, her eyes flickering between the Headmaster and the boy at his side. "Are you a demon?"

The Headmaster leaned on his elbows and rested his chin on his fists.

"Would you like to see my real face? I once told you that we all wear masks, but I could show you the truth here, for it would make no difference."

When she did not respond he sat back, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"I am a vessel of the trees. I am their answer to the endless torture and killing your kind has inflicted. Long before humans even found their name, they were already imposing themselves upon the woods."

"When they were...the...the Mum j'ai?" Credence asked, recalling a story Ma told about the blue-skinned ancestors to humans and elves who were cursed by the Queen of the Wood.

The Headmaster's eyes grew wide and he regarded her with a mixture of surprise and respect.

"You know the true name of your kind?"

"I know their story."

"You understand then, how long the trees have suffered. There was no choice but to retaliate. I'm only a villain to those who hurt my kind first. To the rest, I'm blessed revenge."

"You're hurting innocent children," she spat. "They've never done anything to your kind."

"Haven't they? Do they not dwell in homes formed from the bodies of my brothers and sisters? Do they burn the limbs of my children to warm their weak skin? Has there ever been any regard for felling a tree? All humans are guilty. I show them what it's like for those who cannot fight back. What a privilege, for every last one of them, to truly understand the pain they have caused. As a child of the woods, you might appreciate what I'm doing, creating these glorious monuments to forever grow and flourish."

"You harm them as much as humans harm your kind."

"Ah, but I did not strike first."

"That absolves you of nothing."

"What a shame, to find you unsympathetic."

"Why should I pity you, when it's so obvious you enjoy the pain you cause?"

The Headmaster grinned. "I must confess, over the years, I've found a fondness for my work. Pride. Each human taken is an addition to my family. I delight in every last one of their changings, and I take pleasure in watching them submit to the will of trees. Watch."

He lifted his right hand into the air and all of the students in the courtyard mirrored him. The Headmaster began to mimic eating, bringing an imaginary utensil to his mouth and chewing on nonexistent food. As one, all the bodies in the courtyard followed his lead, bringing the flames of their candles so close to their mouths that Credence was sure one would yelp in pain from being burned.

"You confronted me about the medicine," the Headmaster said. "You questioned whether or not it was used to poison the children or subdue them. I'll tell you the secret now: It's both."

A realization struck Credence. How the students moved effortlessly through the school in a dance-like manner. How their questions and worries disappeared so easily.

How punishments were often threatened but never needed, as the students followed commands without argument unless they were already doomed like Adam and Penny.

The spoonful of sap, one after breakfast and one after dinner. Just enough to keep everyone under the imposter's control.

But the question remained in her mind: Why is it different for me?

She had taken the medicine with all the others—so why was she the only one who never seemed to feel the full effects?

"Such power trees can hold," the Headmaster mused. "If humans would only pause to think of anything other than killing them, they might harness it for themselves. But they never will, and it's that weakness that will serve their doom. Look at them, trapped in a dream they'll never remember. Should they do more tricks for us? We could watch them pluck out their eyes or bite their tongues in half."

"I was wondering how powerful your poison could actually be if I was never under its spell."

"Weren't you? The little beast from the woods who wanted nothing more than to run back to them...how quickly you accepted your imprisonment. You think Adam didn't tell me about your attempt to leave—when he stopped you from opening the door and walking away? Where did that ambition go? Where went all your dreams of escape? It is puzzling, how the effects were not as strong with you, but don't be mistaken, they were there."

"Your lies kept me here."

"My lies, my looks...and my medicine. You were swayed by all three. Look at what you did to yourself after I told you about your father. You rejected those you'd known your whole life at a mere suggestion. False comfort is still comfort, and the medicine helped you cling to it. You'd have believed anything I told you in exchange for a smile and a pat on the head."

"My presence at this table proves you wrong."

"I did worry when you continued to question me. I even hoped you might save me the trouble by doing away with yourself. You failed, just as you failed to save the school."

"If you're as powerful as you claim, why not have the whole of the towns under your control?"

Fiendish enthusiasm painted the Headmaster's face.

"Perhaps I just think children are more fun."

"You won't think so when Penny's family comes for their revenge—or did you forget? You grew too greedy and took a child that was loved."

"Penny's family is already aware that she's gone. She ran away to the woods, or so they believe. You'd be shocked how easy it is to soothe parents' fears when there are too many mouths to feed. Penny was one of four and her mother is round with a fifth. It was hardly a curse to them, having one less in their brood. In fact, it seemed more...a blessing."

"Liar!" Credence screamed, her fury building at the thought that any parent would welcome their children's disappearance.

"My, but it is fascinating how highly you think of your kind. You saw what they do to each other—it's as vile as what they do to everything else. Humans destroy, and nothing more."

"They also love," Credence argued. "They sing songs and keep each other warm at night. Some—" Credence smiled, thinking of Sally, "—dance until the whole room is full of joy, and comfort those who've known great sorrow."

"Are you one such altruist?"

"I don't know," Credence replied honestly, not recognizing the word but guessing its meaning. "I hope...I might be."

The Headmaster snorted. "Heroes are nothing but fools with dreams of courage. Like this one."

He turned to the terrified boy and laid a hand on his head.

"Jof had quite an extraordinary day. He met someone after his first lesson. A man. He told Jof that he was the real headmaster of the school. He told Jof that a monster had taken his place and was secretly hurting the students, but together they could stop it and save everyone. And Jof..." The Headmaster tsked. "Poor Jof believed him."

Behind his gag, Jof began to cry. The Headmaster's fingers weaved through the boy's hair and grabbed a handful. Jof bristled as the Headmaster gave a painful tug.

"I caught this brat in my room. He was searching for something very dear to me."

From some hidden place the Headmaster brought forth a small, ornate box, which Credence recognized as the one she'd seen in his desk.

The one she could not open.

He placed it on the table and rested his hand upon it.

"I admire Jof's honesty," the Headmaster said. "When he was questioned, he told me everything, but I admit he was not without help."

The Headmaster produced a bottle of sap and set it on the table next to the box.

"Took him several servings. He's been at it all day. He enjoys the taste—but children always do."

He uncorked the bottle and ripped the gag from Jof's mouth. Before the boy could even whimper the bottle was pushed between his lips, and the Headmaster pulled the boy's head back to force the contents into his mouth.

Jof sputtered and twitched, but could not keep the sap from spilling into his throat.

"Stop!" Credence screamed. "You're choking him!"

"I'm giving him what he deserves," the Headmaster said, not taking his eyes from the boy.

When the bottle was empty the Headmaster took it away and dabbed a cloth napkin around Jof's mouth and chin. The child managed a single nauseated groan before the gag was placed back over his mouth, and he began to weep behind it once more.

"You're going to change him now," Credence said with a gasp.

"I'm going to save him." The Headmaster's fingers traced Jof's cheek in mock tenderness. "From that cage of meat he calls a body. His blood will become pure, and from the clean, fertile soil of his organs, beautiful life will grow."

"For you to feed on," Credence spat. "You'll torture him for years, sucking the life from him."

"So it was you who released the prisoner. Jof was adamant it hadn't been him. I had wondered, though it was an easy enough guess. My prisoner gone, my room destroyed, and you...running through the hall like you'd seen something you weren't supposed to. It is nice to hear the proof from your lips."

"He'll kill you. He's waiting for the perfect time to strike—you won't see him coming, and he'll cut you down and save the school."

"He will?" The Headmaster tapped his finger against the table. "Do you think you'll be alive to see it?"

He took her silence as a victory.

"I wonder if the two of you had a proper introduction. Did you see what you let escape?"

He snapped his fingers, and in the corners of her eyes Credence saw several domestics scurrying about.

"I think it's time you got a good look at your savior."

The doors to the school opened. A strange squeaking preceded the new arrival, and when the real headmaster appeared the sight of him struck a blow across Credence's courage.

He was strapped to a standing platform on wheels. The squeaking had come from the wheels, which strained under the weight they carried as a handful of domestics pushed the platform to the table.

The body writhing upon it was barely human.

He was just as Credence remembered, a pale imitation of the strong, healthy twin at the table, his arms deformed into twisting branches and his waist looped with thick, squeezing roots.

But now she could see the rest of him—only one good leg, still mostly human, but the other had been replaced with a bundle of roots, their ends dried and curled in want of water and soil. His torso and arms were ravaged by hundreds of pointed branches sprouting from his skin, which ripped his clothes and stained them with blood and sap.

It was his face that pained Credence most of all.

He'd become more deformed since she saw him last, with twigs and leaves bursting through his cheeks and forehead. One of his eyes had hardened into a grotesque knob of spiraled wood.

The domestics pushed him to the table, and what was left of the man looked at Credence with misery and sorrow. Behind his one good eye was a plea for death's release.

The imposter stood and moved to the bound man, who trembled under the attention of his monstrous doppelganger.

"I wanted to see how long I could make the change last. What it might do when it was allowed to linger." He sighed. "In truth, it's been rather tedious."

The half-man opened his mouth to speak, and a river of dark sap spilled onto his chin.

"I'm impressed he managed to pull himself from the floor, though I imagine the chair helped. He's not getting very far now. Barely strong enough to lift a branch." The imposter chuckled. "Do you know where we found him? In the kitchen, rolling around in search of something to eat. He never had any notion of fighting me. I daresay he just wanted someone to free him so he could attain what he desires most: More sap. And he used the first child foolish enough to believe him."

The real headmaster said something that sounded like an argument, but behind the thick bubble of saliva and sap his words were incoherent.

"What was that?" the imposter said, holding a hand to his ear and leaning in. "We can't understand you through all that bile."

The man coughed up a glob of black. It rolled down his chin and settled onto his chest.

"G-Gal-Galeia..." he whispered, so low that if the courtyard had not been still and quiet Credence would have missed it.

"Yes," Credence gently called to him. "I'm here."

"Y-You were named f-f-for your m-mother."

As he spoke his tongue rolled out of his mouth, painfully swollen, and Credence could see its color had changed to a grotesque shade of gray speckled with green.

"I knew y-your father," he said through a gurgle. "He was a g-g-g-good man."

The imposter scoffed. "We have us a reunion, it seems."

"N-no," replied the bound man. "N-n-n-nev—"

"Oh, do hurry it up, you pathetic little shit," the Headmaster said with a roll of his eyes.

"N-n-never met her. B-but I k-knew..." He struggled to speak without a stutter. "Oliver."

Instant relief washed over Credence. He had not said the name 'Darkwood Marc'.

"How did you know him?" Credence asked. "Were you friends?"

"He sa-saved p-people."

The imposter laughed. "Darkwood Marc did more harm than I could ever dream."

"N-No!" the real headmaster argued. "L-listen t-to me...Galeia...l-listen...to...m-m-me..."

"We've heard enough," the imposter said, clearly annoyed.

"Wait!" Credence cried. "How did Pa—how did Oliver save people? Please, tell me! What did he do?!"

"He...it...wrong. It all went w-w-wrong..."

"His mind is gone," the imposter remarked.

"Shut your mouth," Credence snapped before turning back to the real man. "Please, Frederick, tell me why Oliver was a good man."

She was so close to discovering the truth of Pa and his secret trips to the towns—if only the teller lived long enough to explain.

But the imposter was finished waiting. He grabbed a knife from the table and lifted it towards the prisoner. Credence struggled against the bindings around her wrists.

"Don't hurt him!" she yelled and the imposter stilled.

"I wouldn't dream," he said and cut the straps holding the body against the platform. The half-man fell forward, his face connecting painfully against the table as he landed atop it.

He can't hold himself up, Credence thought.

The real headmaster remained still, little more than a pathetic lump.

"Go on," the imposter goaded. "I'll give you the first strike. Stand up and grab this knife. Take back your school."

The lump moaned and the false headmaster shrugged.

"What a shame, I almost hoped there would be a fight."

With a ghastly choking noise, the man on the table slowly lifted his head. The imposter stood back, watching in silent fascination, like a child studying a bug it's about to crush.

Frederick's eye found Credence.

"I—" A river of sap poured from his mouth and puddled beneath him. "I know w-what your m-mother...is. I k-k-know what y-you are. F-from the w-woods."

His mouth rose into a painful smile.

"Witch."

He said it proudly, not as an insult or an accusation, but an acknowledgment that Credence was special. As if he adored her for it.

The title, as it came from his lips, gave her courage.

With a long release of breath, the real headmaster's head fell back to the table and went still.

Credence was devastated to think she'd lost the only person who could tell her about Pa, but her sorrow was interrupted by a single word from the imposter:

"Witch?"

Credence turned to find him staring at her in awe. After a moment, that reverence gave way to sinister glee.

"That changes everything."