The Auction: Chapter Two

The door opened and blinding light hit the tired eyes in the room.

It was Miss Scrubbs, trailed by two women, all of them bearing lanterns. They moved through the room and lit several torches along the walls.

"No guff like last night," Miss Scrubbs was quick to warn. "I've got a bucket of black and fingers itchin' to paint!"

As the room was washed in dim light, Credence shrunk into her corner, trying to become as small as possible.

"Why they told me to feed you, I won't begin to guess," Miss Scrubbs said with a snort. "But I don't extend hospitality to rogues, so you'll be gettin' yesterday's scraps. Don't care if it's enough, so stifle your whining before it starts! You'll fight for what I give you like the animals you've proven to be! And no baths! You'll get no frills for the Auction!"

Miss Scrubbs and her women left the room, and everyone turned to look at each other in the light. There were many red and puffy eyes from a night spent in little sleep and too much crying.

Just as she feared, Credence was immediately found.

"That's her," said an older girl as she approached. She had a handful of children following behind. "Hold her."

Credence didn't bother to struggle when several hands lifted her and pushed her against the wall.

"Should we kill her?" asked one of the followers.

" 'Course not," said the leader, "she's our way out of this mess. We'll keep her here until we can explain what happened."

"You don't know what happened," Credence snapped. "I saved you."

The leader spit at her.

"You killed the Headmaster, you burned the school. And now you'd have us answer for it!"

Credence clenched her fists, unable to contain her anger.

"Were your eyes closed so tight in fear that you missed everything? You saw the damned seeds the domestics spat up—I know you remember what happened. The Headmaster was a monster. He was hurting all of us!"

The confusing thought had struck Credence more than once since they'd been taken to the holding room. Why didn't anyone admit what they saw in the courtyard? They watched the imposter strangle her. They stomped the seeds just as she had.

And why had there been no mention from any of them of the gruesome, inhuman remains in the courtyard?

Because the truth will not save them, Credence thought bitterly. But someone to blame will. It doesn't matter what really happened, it only matters that someone other than themselves is punished.

No one would ever believe what she told them about the Headmaster, because no one wanted to.

The leader shoved a torn strip of clothing into Credence's mouth, uninterested in hearing another word, and she and her followers took turns holding their prisoner so she could not escape.

When food was brought to the room, they didn't allow Credence to touch any of it.

Credence was not hungry anyway, as her stomach was still bubbling with faint nausea from the sap.

A few of her captors threatened to strike her, but they were kept from doing so by their leader, who never strayed from Credence's side and maintained a fixed eye on her.

Credence spied Gregory in the room but he did not dare to approach her, only cast a pitying, worried look her way.

As the day wore on, the crowd settled into hushed conversation. Their fear and despair drained away, leaving sullen resignation in its place.

Curiously, the domestics transformed completely, and their sour dispositions were replaced with kind expressions. They were normal people now, but not only that, they were loving. All of them had a student in their lap, and were whispering soothing words into the ears of those who needed it. If nothing else, Credence thought the shift in their behavior should be proof enough that something had been amiss at the school.

She could do nothing but think, and her mind conjured a myriad of questions and musings about what had happened and what the future held for her.

Once, she wondered if being married to the Collector would be preferable to her current predicament. If she called him now, could he reach her? Could he slip past the destroyed entry gate of the towns and through the walls of this cursed holding room?

I would be a queen, she thought. A queen of the woods—

And wife to a monster.

But she might be free.

And what of the power she had conjured in the courtyard? She demanded wind, but wind had not caused the great crack in the ground.

Could it have been earth? That innocent, loveable element that shied away from any asking bigger than a flower—did it have the capacity for such destruction and violence?

Credence thought magic was a muscle, but more than that, it was a process that needed specific steps and words to be completed.

How could she have brought such power into the world with nothing but her mind?

She would never know the answer, for there were no teachers left and no book to guide her.

Like many things in the world, including her own self, she would remain hopelessly in the dark.

Credence drifted in and out of thought, sometimes catching a piece of conversation between her captors. They talked at length about their prisoner, and what she was, monster or witch or criminal—perhaps all three. Perhaps something worse.

"I always felt there was something off about her," she heard one of the students say. "She's from the woods, you know. Look at her—she's not human. Look at her."

This prompted speculation on whether she was a goblin in disguise or a changeling that had infiltrated the school. Some spoke of the courtyard fight, claiming they'd seen Credence hovering in the air, proud and magnificently terrifying, like a divine being sent to enact great revenge.

Credence scoffed at their nonsense. The students had always been prone to ridiculous rumors and gossip, but she couldn't believe they were already fabricating tales about the incident of the night before.

It gives them comfort, her mind suggested. Let them have it, for how much more harm could their lies do?

One of the students remarked that he was inclined to believe Credence, that she might have done them a great service and saved them.

"What if she's right," he said quietly before throwing a meaningful glance at the prisoner. "Did you not see it? It looked...like a tree with teeth."

"You're a damn fool," the leader snapped. "You were still asleep, I remember, until the very last second."

When the boy tried to argue further he was quickly silenced by the leader and driven away from the group.

The conversation turned away from Credence and onto the upcoming Auction. Those with families bemoaned the fact that Miss Scrubbs would not allow them the chance to buy their children first, while those without families cried over the inevitability of having to stand before the towns with nothing but hope that someone might take pity on them.

Everyone was afraid.

Everyone was certain that they were destined for death that night.

Credence couldn't begin to understand why the towns acted so cruelly towards their own.

How could people even entertain the idea of sending their children to the Chopper?

She had a fleeting thought of offering herself as a sacrifice, by telling the truth about what happened, and how she was the sole cause of it.

What good is my life anyway?

Almost everyone she had ever met, both good and wicked, was dead.

Her family.

Frederick.

The imposter.

Wonda.

The list could continue, and she knew that by the sun's next fall there would be new names added to it.

The students and domestics of the school.

***

At last, the door opened and Miss Scrubbs reappeared.

She seemed agitated, and addressed the room with a bitter tone.

"Against my advice, they're allowing pre-Auction buys."

She rolled her eyes at the announcement, then her mouth curled into a wicked smile.

"We'll see how many it helps after they hear my terms!" She threw her head back and cackled. "They did take one of my suggestions though, and agreed that any of you not bought at the Auction will go directly to the Chopper at the close! We may not get a warmup show—but we'll certainly have us a dance after!"

The room filled with argument. Children and domestics burst into tears, and Miss Scrubbs gave a sharp whistle through her fingers to silence them.

"Cryin' now, eh? Saw no tears shed for that poor man you ended! The absolute shame of you!"

The leader, who was taking her turn to hold Credence against the wall, loosened her grip. She left Credence for the first time since her capture, and another student immediately took her place.

"Miss! Oi, Miss!" the leader called to Miss Scrubbs while pushing her way to the front of the room.

The woman looked at the approaching child with a raised eyebrow and a disgusted frown.

The two engaged in brief conversation, and the leader pointed at Credence while her mouth moved quickly in explanation. Miss Scrubbs' eyes grew wide and she nodded grimly.

That's it, Credence thought. Now I earn my black stripe.

Miss Scrubbs raised her hand and struck the leader hard across the face, sending the girl to the floor. She left the room without another word.

The leader sat up, dazed, with a look of pure shock on her face. She touched her bottom lip, which had burst into a small bubble of red. She stood and wiped the blood from her lip with her sleeve before making her way back to Credence.

In her eyes was a deadly glare.

***

Credence was on the floor, clutching her stomach in pain.

Once the leader's anger had drained, she quit her prisoner entirely and she, and her followers, moved to the farthest corner of the room they could find.

No one said a word to stop the violence, only cast barely interested glances at the disruption.

When it was over, no one came to help or comfort Credence.

She was still struggling to catch her breath when Miss Scrubbs returned, trailed by a group of townspeople who rushed through the door. They scanned the room with wild eyes, clutching pouches of coins.

"Take your pick," Miss Scrubbs grumbled at the buyers. "But know my prices have upped. It'll be double for this lot, and that's the final word."

These buyers were different from the ones who came to the holding room before. They were not richly dressed or painted, but wore commoner's clothes and had dirt on their faces.

There were no keepers here, only desperate families.

They swept through the room, searching for a familiar face. Happy reunions played out, but many were followed by outbursts of anger when they heard the price for their child's freedom.

Almost none of them could afford the purchase.

Miss Scrubbs had only one reply for them:

"They'll go to the Auction then. You might get a better price, or someone else might take an interest."

When it was time for the buyers to leave, almost all of the prisoners remained in the room, and for the sorrow and agony on their faces, Credence felt a great pity in her heart.

At the last moment, someone called her name.

"Credence? Are you here?"

Credence was on her feet in an instant as the familiar melody of Sally's voice broke over the crowd.

"Where are you, little tree?"

Sally lifted her hand into the air, and in her fist was the bag of coins Credence had found while cleaning the tavern.

Sally had saved them.

Credence's heart lifted—

But when she tried to push through the crowd a strong pair of arms encircled her body and took her to the floor.

"Sall—!"

A hand clamped over her mouth to keep her from calling out.

"You really thought you'd get to leave?" the leader who held her captive before snarled in her ear. Her followers moved to keep Credence still, while a couple of them stood in front to block Sally's view.

Credence screamed behind the hand over her mouth and struggled as hard as she could, but it was no use.

"Credence," Sally called again. "If you can hear me, answer back!"

The last glimpse she caught of Sally was the woman hanging her head in defeat while Miss Scrubbs pushed her out of the room.

The leader chuckled.

"You'll be with the rest of us, where you belong."

Please stay for the Auction, Sally, Credence begged in her mind. You'll see me then.

You can buy me and we'll leave the towns together.