Free The League of Seven by Alan Gratz

said.
    The boys turned to stare at her.
    â€œWell that’s what I heard,” said the girl.
    â€œIt—no,” Archie said. “I mean, the real reason Rome fell was because they built lektric generators and covered the world with lektricity and woke the Mangleborn again.”
    â€œAnd you know all this pretend history how?” Fergus asked.
    Archie had already told them too much—but after what they’d been through, he thought they deserved to know. He glanced at Mr. Rivets, who apparently agreed.
    â€œMaster Archie and his parents are a part of a secret society that has fought the Mangleborn for generations,” Mr. Rivets said. “They have also worked in secret to keep the world from rediscovering the practical uses of lektricity.”
    â€œWorked to keep people from…” Fergus’ eyes went wide. “There was a fire. At Edison’s lab. Last month. We were just about to create a battery—a chemical storage jar for lektricity. But the lab burned down. We lost everything. Did your secret society do that?”
    â€œUndoubtedly,” said Mr. Rivets. “Men like Edison, once identified, are watched. Their work suppressed.”
    â€œBut you don’t know for a fact they did it?” the girl said.
    â€œThe Society is, as I said, miss, a secret. Only a few of its members know all its agents; most know only two or three others besides themselves. Beyond Mr. and Mrs. Dent and the governing council in New Rome, I myself am aware of only two active Septemberists.”
    â€œSeptemberists?” Fergus asked.
    â€œYes, sir. That is what members of the group call themselves.”
    â€œThat’s why we went down there,” Archie said. “My parents are researchers for the Septemberists. They know all about the Mangleborn from old books, and they watch the stars for signs that the Mangleborn are getting stronger. Like this one.” He got quiet as he thought about his parents at Septemberist headquarters, those awful bugs on their necks. “They just didn’t know how strong.”
    â€œSorry, White,” Fergus said. “Giant monsters trapped in the earth is a tough sell.”
    â€œâ€˜White’?” Archie said.
    â€œNo offense, mate,” Fergus said. “But don’t tell me it’s the first time you’ve heard it. Not with that snowball on your head. Guess I didn’t notice it before in the dark.”
    Archie didn’t understand.
    â€œYes, Master Archie,” Mr. Rivets said. “I neglected to mention it after your rescue as there were more pressing matters to attend to with Master Fergus, but … perhaps it’s best you see for yourself.”
    Mr. Rivets pointed to a polished metal mirror on the cabin wall. Archie went closer to look.
    â€œMy hair—my hair is white!” Archie cried.
    â€œI’m afraid I’m at a loss to explain it, sir,” said Mr. Rivets.
    â€œIt happened after you put your hands in that green flame,” the girl said. “It was brown before. White after.”
    Archie ran his fingers through his hair. It was white as steam. All of it. White to the skin. His eyebrows too. Mr. Rivets might not have understood, but Archie did. Seeing the Mangleborn, hearing it inside his head had done this to him. It had touched his mind. Jandal a Haad . He remembered the words now. The same words the Septemberist council had spoken to him. He had no idea what they meant, but they scared him to the bone.
    â€œWe have to go back,” said the girl.
    â€œWhat?” Archie asked. He was still staring at his white hair and thinking about the Mangleborn’s terrible voice flooding his thoughts. Assaulting him.
    â€œAnd do what?” Fergus asked.
    â€œKill Edison,” she said. “Kill this monster.”
    Archie tore his eyes away from his white hair. “You can’t kill the Mangleborn, or else somebody would have done it. That’s why