A Proper Education: Chapter Twenty-Eight

"It changes nothing," Credence countered quickly, afraid the imposter would alert the towns of a witch's presence.

"Oh, but it does. Of course! Why didn't I see it? From the woods...the effects of the sap were not as potent...you, my dear, are no longer a prisoner. Now, you are a guest."

"You'll release me?"

"Not just yet—but I'm certainly inclined to."

He pulled his chair close to her, his eyes sparkling with wicked intent, his grin unmovable from his lips.

"Answer me honestly: Was your mother a witch?"

Credence swallowed. "Yes."

"And does her magic flow through you?"

"It does."

"Did she...did she ever teach you how to use it?"

Credence hesitated, not sure she wanted the creature to know the extent of her power—but not convinced it couldn't save her, either.

"What would it mean if I could use magic?"

"Only your life. Maybe your freedom."

He turned to look at the young faces staring at them.

"They hate you, you know," he said bitterly. "They hate what you can control, what you can wield. They would rather see you dead than have any sliver of power over them. Did they kill your mother? It doesn't matter, they would have. Would have sent her to the Chopper and celebrated her end, thinking they were doing the world a favor by eliminating someone different. They'll do the same to you if given the chance."

He turned back to Credence, and his smile had been replaced with a frown and a worried brow.

"What good do any of these people bring to those like us? Would it not be better to rid the world of them?" He searched her eyes for the smallest agreement. "We could take the towns together and cleanse it of these violent things, these humans. We could build a forest from the ashes, a glorious new home. Take this foulness and turn it into something useful—something good. The Queen of the Wood—"

"How do you know that name?"

He raised an eyebrow, and his frown turned upwards.

"All of our kind know her, Credence."

"Our kind?"

"We who come from the woods, who know magic. And every last one of us would move mountains and burn worlds to gain the Queen's gratitude."

"Gratitude?"

"She hates humans most of all for what they've done. What they've become. And who could blame her? You've seen it. You cannot deny what wretched beasts they are. Not a drop of mercy or innocence in any of them."

His fingers traced over the bindings around her wrists.

"Help me, Credence. Help me rid paradise of these vermin, and together we can walk into the woods. Free." His fingers touched her hand. "The Queen will be most generous, I think, to the pair who defeated her greatest enemy."

Credence bristled.

"I...I..."

The change in his tone had been so abrupt, so surprising. Humans were the greatest enemy to the Queen? She couldn't believe it.

And the Queen was no longer the ruler of the woods. The imposter must not have known that a new monarch had taken her throne, and he was far less likely to welcome anyone with benevolence or gratitude.

Still, the thought of escape was enticing.

But what of the cost?

The humans in the towns did have the capacity for great violence, and Credence could never feel safe among them, even if she didn't have a witch's blood in her veins.

Pa was human, and so was Josiah. Both of them were good, loving people.

Frederick, the real Headmaster, whom she had only known a short time, seemed an honest man. She looked over at Tildy, that sweet, young face, and couldn't imagine harming a hair on the child's head, no matter what reward was promised.

Sally.

The name made Credence's heart skip.

How could she even entertain the idea of hurting someone so kind?

"There are good people here," she said at last. "There are people worth saving."

"You're wrong."

"I've met one. When I was sent to work detail—I met a woman worth calling a friend."

"There are no such humans, Credence. That same woman would kill you if she knew what you really are."

"I don't think so. I know she would love me all the same."

The imposter sighed. "You've made your choice, and I'm disappointed to say it's the wrong one."

A moan from Jof tore their attention away from each other. The boy's face was dangerously red and he was gasping for breath. His body wiggled in the chair and his eyes rolled back into his head.

The moaning turned into a high-pitched wail of agony.

"It's happening!" the imposter said with a shudder of delight. "You're so lucky to see it!"

The boy jerked and seized. His scream turned into an inhuman howling, until it was cut off by gurgling. A trickle of red ran from his mouth and Jof went still. He slumped over, revealing a grotesque bump rising from the back of his head.

Beneath the bump, something was moving.

Something was pushing against his skin, trying to break out.

With a faint pop, the bump opened, sending blood and sap down the boy's head and onto the table.

Moving with unnatural speed, a slender whip of a branch unfurled itself into view, like the single leg of a spider exiting a burrow in the ground.

The transformation began.

Jof's skin stretched and cracked before hardening, and pieces of it fell to the ground. But there was no flesh or bone beneath, only pale, tender wood. In a handful of moments, the final trace of Jof's human body disappeared, and in its place was a mound of leaves and bark.

The only resemblance it bore to the boy was the pose the mass retained, the same silhouette Jof had made when he slumped forward.

"Beautiful," the false headmaster said.

He snapped his fingers and a domestic was at his side with a hatchet. She handed it over and without warning the Headmaster brought the blade down onto what once was Jof. The wood splintered, and the Headmaster continued hacking until a fissure cracked down the middle, splitting the bark like an egg, and everything fell away to reveal a bowed sapling. The Headmaster threw the hatchet on the table and gathered the sapling in his arms, caressing it like a proud mother with her newborn.

"A maple," he whispered. He turned and deposited the sapling into the arms of a waiting domestic who took it away, no doubt to join it with the others in the orchard.

That is what happened to Adam, Credence thought with horror. That is what happened to Penny—and all those names on his list.

They had all endured this excruciating pain.

And they were all still alive, trapped in a new body that couldn't move or scream or fight back.

Watching helplessly as the monster who hurt them fed from them.

"It's always a delight to discover what sort of tree lurks in the hearts of humans," the Headmaster interrupted her thoughts. "What will we find in you? An ash, perhaps. Strong and willful. Or a sturdy, attentive oak?"

Before he could speak further, Credence called with her energy and fire burst into life in her palm. She thought to use his momentary shock to attack—but the imposter immediately smothered the flame by covering her hand with his.

"You really are a witch," he said and his voice was full of pity. "What a horrible waste."

He brought a vial of sap from his pocket.

"Drew this only an hour ago."

Gone was the pompous victory in his tone. He was remorseful, an emotion Credence was shocked to hear.

All the same, his intention was clear.

Credence struggled against her restraints. She had been trying to loosen them, recalling her escape from the milk-eyed twins, but had no progress to show for it.

The Headmaster uncorked the vial and touched the glass to her lips.

"Time to take your medicine, Credence."