The Owl Keeper by Christine Brodien-Jones Page A

that."
    "But wolves are extinct! It says so in the textbooks."
    "Yeah, well, the textbooks say lots of things." She threw him a sardonic smile. "The government injects black wolves with a
    83
    deadly virus, see, and they carry plague germs from the olden days! If a plague wolf bites you, count on dying instantly."
    Max slumped against the bricks, breathing hard, trying to make sense of what Rose was saying. Why would the government allow infected wolves to patrol their properties? It had to be a scare tactic, he decided, a rumor designed to frighten people off.
    The rain drizzled harder, drenching his woolen cap and soaking his hair. He felt miserable. "If plague wolves existed, Mrs. Crumlin would have told me. She'd want me to know something like that." He knew that was true--Mrs. Crumlin wouldn't keep him in the dark--but still he worried just a little.
    "Crumlin tells you zilch!" hissed Rose. "Trust me, Max, plague wolves are real. They're totally crazed, too. The High Echelon starves them so they're ready to attack at a moment's notice."
    Max stared at her, not knowing what to believe. Standing in the rain, cobwebby hair dripping, she seemed more like a disembodied spirit than a human being. What if he had imagined Rose after all?
    "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," he said, thinking of the numerous flaws in their plan. He'd far rather be in bed reading Owls of the Wild, or sitting on a branch next to his silver owl. "Let's come back some other time."
    Rose glared at him. "Cut the whining."
    Max sighed. Rose was real, all right. He could never have imagined anyone as bossy as her.
    As they edged along the wall, he listened for wolves, but the only sound he could hear was the wind, roaring down from the
    84
    north. Rose brushed her hand along the bricks, tapping each one. At last she stopped, tapping harder, prying a brick loose. More tumbled out around it and a gap appeared.
    She wriggled through the gap, moving fast and expertly, not making a sound, the way Max imagined a spy would do. He followed, whacking his forehead and scraping his knee on the bricks. Because of his thick jacket and layers of flannel shirts and sweaters, it was a tight squeeze. Finally, huffing and puffing, he made it through.
    On the other side Rose slouched against the wall, staring through the trees at Cavernstone Hall. Max put his hand to his forehead, feeling a bump start to rise. Whatever had possessed him to come here? Why had he let Rose talk him into it?
    He followed her gaze, beyond Cavernstone Hall to a black shape on a hill, its jagged outline spiking into the sky. The Ruins! And, to his surprise, there were lights glimmering in the windows.
    "Still think they're empty as eggshells?" Rose jabbed him with her skinny elbow. "No time to gawk, owl boy, we're on a mission. When the guard leaves, we'll run up the hill and around the back."
    Max clutched his stomach, feeling nauseated. "Stay close to the trees so the wolves don't see you," she added. "Lucky for us, they've got lousy night vision."
    To calm himself Max pretended this was all a board game and he was a game piece, skulking from tree to tree. If Jackson Branwell Eccles's watch was correct, the changing of the guard
    85
    was taking place this very minute at the factory's main entrance. This was their big chance to sneak into Cavernstone Hall.
    Safely through the trees, they slipped around the back of the building, where a flight of steps led to a columned veranda. Max followed Rose up to a polished door with a window shaped like a sun. Through the frosted glass a dim light filtered in.
    She nudged him. "The card, Max." Her eyes were bright with excitement.
    Max dug into his pocket. The inside of his mouth felt dry and cottony. His mother's smart card was a key: contained within it were tiny computers that could open doors, scan identities, decipher coded messages. He knew that any unauthorized user would end up in deep trouble. But if he turned back now, Rose would never forgive