A blast of freezing wind blew in her face. She remembered now how open and flat the land on Lament was, how little shelter there was. It was so empty and mournful here. When they were younger Fliss had wanted to continue bringing flowers to Mother’s grave, but Granny had discouraged them. ‘Better to remember her as she was, in here,’ she’d said, tapping her head, ‘rather than remind yourselves of where she is now.’
‘Fliss?’ Charlie whined, pressing into her. ‘I know this is an adventure, but does it have to be so c-cold?’
Fliss pulled her younger sister closer, though she was shivering herself.
Betty stepped in front of them. ‘We won’t be out here much longer, Charlie,’ she said, looking at Colton pointedly. ‘Well? We got you out, now it’s your turn. Tell us how to break the curse.’
Colton turned to look at her and his expression changed, becoming uncomfortable. He lowered his gaze, shifting from one foot to the other. Already, Betty knew with a sinking feeling that she was not going to like whatever she was about to hear.
‘Soon. I still need your help.’
Betty’s eyes narrowed to slits the size of rice grains. Why was he stalling, after all they’d just been through? She stalked over to him, temper flaring. ‘You said once we got you out of the prison you could do the rest. That was the deal!’
‘There’s a boat hidden in one of the caves,’ Colton said. He looked up at the glittering stars, then across the marshes to the lights on the mainland. ‘I thought I’d be able to get my bearings, but . . .’
He’s struggling with the directions, Betty thought. It wasn’t surprising. She had heard that long spells in small places could do strange things to the mind. Even Betty, who’d spent hours studying all her maps, was finding it more difficult to navigate than expected now she was here. If she hadn’t been so annoyed, she might have felt a pang of pity for him. But the thought of the curse pushed her sympathy aside as her earlier doubts niggled. How much did Colton really know?
‘Can you tell us how to break this curse, or not?’ Fliss asked stonily, evidently thinking the same. ‘Or are you just stringing us along?’
Colton met her eyes for a second, then broke away. ‘Get me to the caves,’ he muttered. ‘Then I’ll tell you everything I know.’
‘You were supposed to tell us now,’ Betty said. ‘You broke your word!’
‘Why should we do anything else for you?’ Fliss added.
‘Because if we don’t we’ll have wasted our time,’ Betty said in a hard voice. It was an unbearable thought, to have risked so much for nothing. If Colton didn’t give them the answers they needed, it was back to grovelling to Fingerty . . . which held no guarantees, either.
Charlie marched up to Colton, glaring with as much disdain as she could muster. She held out her hand. ‘My rat,’ she said icily.
‘Oh.’ Colton was shamefaced as he handed back the wriggling brown creature. ‘Here. I wasn’t planning on keeping it.’
‘Huh!’ said Charlie, pocketing Hoppit. ‘So you ain’t a thief, then. Just a liar.’ She turned on her heel and rejoined her sisters.
‘We’ll get you to the caves,’ said Betty. ‘Then you tell us. No more stalling.’
‘What do we do about Jarrod, though?’ Fliss asked, jerking her head back over her shoulder. ‘Leave him there for the warders to find?’
Betty glanced back at the copse of trees behind, where they had landed. She stiffened, scouring the ground.
‘We might not have to worry about that,’ she whispered.
A short way in front of them, squelched into the mud, was a torn piece of rag, its loose end fluttering like it was waving cheerily.
Jarrod, however, was gone.
Chapter Fifteen
The Island of the Dead
BETTY’S STOMACH FELT LIKE A pancake being flipped. ‘Is that . . . one of his bindings?’
Colton gulped. ‘Sheets must have been weaker than we thought.’
Betty’s eyes darted between the trees, but the branches created shadows that the moonlight couldn’t reach. With Jarrod missing she suddenly felt like an insect being watched by a hungry spider, a spider in a dark corner hidden from sight. He knows about the bag, she thought. Would he try to get it? The fact he’d vanished reassured her slightly, but she was still jittery. Jarrod could be too busy taking his chance to escape to worry about them, but who knew the dark workings of his mind?
‘We need to move,’ she managed to say. ‘Find this cave so we can do what we need to and get off this awful island.’
‘Can we use the bag?’ Fliss asked quietly.
‘Best not,’ Colton said gruffly. ‘If the tide is in, half the cave will be underwater. It’s better we go on foot, quietly and carefully. Especially with Jarrod on the loose.’ His forehead creased. ‘For all we know, he could try to make it to the caves himself.’
‘Which ones?’ Betty asked urgently. She glanced back at Crowstone, then across at Repent, trying to picture her maps in her head. ‘There are caves all over these islands.’
‘The Three Widows,’ said Colton. ‘Some of the prisoners used to talk about a boat and supplies being hidden and joke about using it as a getaway. The trouble for them was they had no way of getting out of the prison and across to Lament.’
She nodded. ‘I’ve seen them on maps. Let’s go.’
They began walking, Betty in the lead with her too-large boots rubbing. Colton followed behind with Fliss and Charlie.
‘Where do you think Jarrod went?’ Betty asked. Her breath misted in front of her. ‘Could he have rolled out of the way and hidden somewhere?’
‘Probably.’ Colton’s mouth pressed into a grim line. ‘With one of his ties broken it’s only a matter of time until he snaps the rest.’
Dread curdled in Betty’s stomach. Again, she wondered what he was capable of, and it was only the presence of Charlie that stopped her from asking.
‘Let’s just hope it’s the warders who find him first.’ Colton glanced about them nervously. ‘Aside from us, would there be anyone else on Lament now?’
Betty shook her head. ‘Not even the gravediggers would be here in the middle of the night. We’re the only people here.’ She glanced at Charlie, lowering her voice. ‘The only living ones, anyway.’
They walked faster, spurred on by urgency. Every so often Betty turned to check Fliss and Charlie were near. She had half-expected one or both of them to be in tears by now, but Fliss’s face was steely and alert, and Charlie seemed more concerned with checking Hoppit was still in her pocket. She felt a rush of affection for them both. In all her dreams of adventure she’d imagined herself alone and independent, needing no one. Now it was happening she couldn’t help feeling glad they were in it together.
Underfoot, the waterlogged grass gave way to freshly turned soil, with smaller, narrow paths of grass between them. In some places the mounds had flattened and become grassy. On each of them was a small pile of stones. Some had toppled over with time.
‘Graves,’ said Colton, stooping to pick up a fallen stone. He placed it back on the nearest grave, then began to pick his way through them.
Betty followed, her skin prickling. She couldn’t help being reminded of the stones falling from the prison tower. Her eyes skimmed over the rocky heaps uneasily. She had always known about the piles of stones – or cairns, as they were called – on the graves after a burial, but this was the first time she had made the connection to the Widdershins curse. In both cases the stones were a marker of death.
‘I don’t like this,’ said Fliss, from behind. She made the sign of the crow hurriedly. ‘It feels wrong to be walking over the graves.’
‘We’re not,’ Colton replied. ‘We’re walking between them. They’re not going to hurt you.’
‘I know that. I just . . . I don’t like the idea of it.’
‘You mean you’ve never walked through a graveyard in the dead – sorry, bad choice of word – of night before?’ He smirked. ‘Where’s your sense of adve
nture?’
‘Not here, clearly.’
‘Don’t worry, princess. You’ll soon be back in your palace and all this will seem like a bad dream.’
‘You’ve obviously never been to the Poacher’s Pocket,’ said Betty, torn between sticking up for her sister and being mildly fascinated at Colton poking fun at her. Her prettiness didn’t seem to affect him as it did other young men, who simpered when she looked their way. But then she supposed Colton had bigger concerns. ‘It’s no palace, that’s for sure.’
‘Depends on your idea of riches,’ said Colton, the humour leaving his voice. ‘A home and a family to go back to . . . that’s enough for some folk.’
Betty didn’t answer. She didn’t want to know about Colton’s life or family, not if it meant feeling sorry for him. All she wanted was to find out what he knew and never set eyes on him again. So when Fliss predictably began to ask, she cut across her.
‘Wouldn’t it be better to keep to the edges of the graveyard? There’s more shelter, trees and bushes we could hide behind if Jarrod shows up. Out here he’d see us straight away.’
‘And we’d see him straight away if he came at us,’ Colton replied. ‘Besides, all those hiding places, they could just as easily be hiding him.’
It was an eerie thought. They hurried on silently, past graves and an endless landscape of stones. Betty glanced at the low wall dividing the graveyard. She had never walked on this side before, where people from Torment were buried. Those from mainland Crowstone were allowed proper headstones and decorations, but the graves this side were only marked by cairns. After all her years of wanting to tread new ground, now she was on it she felt out of her depth. Imagining adventures was nothing like living them, especially with villains like Jarrod in the shadows – and this was only the start. What dangers would they need to face to actually break the curse?
After a while she stopped looking directly at the stones, concentrating instead on the grass under her feet. This way it was easier to imagine that the cairns were other, less threatening things such as piles of balled-up socks, or clusters of mushrooms.
‘I’m hungry,’ Charlie said suddenly. ‘And cold. I want my bed. And I want Granny!’ She sniffed loudly, tugging at Fliss’s arm. ‘This isn’t how an adventure should feel!’
Privately, Betty agreed. But they were so close now! Once Colton got to his stupid boat and they got their answer this awful part would end and they could concentrate on changing their futures. ‘It’s nearly over now,’ she murmured. ‘You’ve been so brave, Charlie!’
‘That’s right,’ Fliss soothed, glancing warily about. ‘We can go home soon.’
Colton turned back to Charlie, touching her shoulder. ‘There should be food in the caves.’
Charlie looked instantly more cheerful. ‘I want toast,’ she declared. ‘Hot, thick toast all dripping with butter.’
Colton chuckled, shaking his head. ‘It’ll be stuff that keeps. Salted fish or meat.’
Charlie was thoughtful for a moment. ‘Do rats eat fish?’
He pretended to look surprised. ‘Are you a rat, then?’
Charlie giggled, before remembering she was supposed to be cross. Betty repositioned herself between them, frowning. She was unable to tell whether his kindness towards the little girl was genuine . . . or whether he had his eye on the travelling bag. Either way, it was safer to put some distance between them.
They were past the graveyard now, only spongy grass beneath their boots. Ahead, Colton slowed. A chilly breeze hit Betty in the face, and then she saw that the land ahead dropped away. Beyond that, she spied a tiny lone light out on the water, perhaps a wisp, perhaps a hopeful fisherman.
‘We’ve reached the edge of the island,’ said Colton. ‘How far are the caves now?’
Betty checked the position of Crowstone Tower again. ‘According to the maps I’ve seen, the Three Widows are north. So they should be more or less below us on the cliff face, we just need to find the steps down.’
Shivering, they scouted the overlook. After a couple of minutes Betty began doubting herself, and wondering about rock falls that might have left the steps ruined.
She neared the land’s edge, Fliss holding on tightly to Charlie behind. She could just make out a set of crude, chunky steps carved into the rocky surface.
‘Here!’
‘Are we supposed to get down those in one piece?’ Fliss asked. ‘There’s nothing to hold on to!’
Betty stepped down, one hand on the crumbling edge. ‘There are roots and rocks we can grab. We should hold on to each other, too.’
Once they were on the steps it wasn’t as bad as Betty had feared. Colton went first, with Betty next. Charlie came after, one hand in Betty’s and the other held by Fliss.
The steps were steep but wide. Soon they got into a steady rhythm, going down, down, down and Betty welcomed each step closer to the bottom away from the harsh wind.
They were about halfway down when the ground crumbled under her feet. Charlie squealed, fingers gripping as Betty skidded. A vision of the cliffs rushing past her nose flashed through her mind as she imagined the three of them being pulled over.
Colton flung his hand out, grabbing her wrist. He hauled her back in with a grunt, tight against the cliff face. No one spoke, only waited for her to catch her breath before moving on in silence. Down, down, down, like it would never end, like a clock that just went on ticking.
And then, finally, they were there. Crunching shingle at their feet, water lapping over rock pools ahead . . . and a series of black shapes yawning like mouths before them.
‘There they are,’ she murmured. ‘The Three Widows.’
Fliss stared into the black caverns doubtfully. ‘Could they sound any more ominous?’
Charlie tugged at Betty’s sleeve. ‘What’s oni-muss?’
‘It means a bit gloomy,’ said Betty. The caverns were certainly that, but a thrill went through her at the sight of them.
Colton began picking his way over the shingle. Wordlessly, the girls followed, briny wind whipping through their hair. The beach became coarser, and in places there were chunks of broken wood and smashed china. It made Betty think of shipwrecks, an idea that had always excited her before. That seemed foolish now. The scattered debris was real, maybe all that survived of someone else’s adventure that had gone terribly wrong.
They crunched past the first two caves. A glimpse into their dark insides gave nothing away. Colton continued to the final cave, vanishing inside. The sisters ducked in after him, out of the brittle wind. They heard scrabbling in the darkness. Then came the sound of a match being struck. A golden glow followed as a candle was lit.
Colton loomed before them. Beyond him, the cave stretched back. Betty squinted into the gloom, finding a jumble of shapes: wooden crates, bottles, heaps of sacking and crucially, a small rowing boat with two jutting oars. Colton went to it, picking off strings of seaweed. He circled it, running his hands over the wood, lifting the candle to inspect it.
‘It’s actually here.’ He rubbed a hand over his chin, his voice light with relief. ‘And in working order. Good.’
‘You weren’t certain it would be?’ Betty asked, unsettled. It seemed too huge a thing to risk after all they’d been through to get here.
A shadow flickered across Colton’s face. He didn’t answer, instead rummaging through the crates. He threw a wrap of paper to Charlie. ‘Here.’
Charlie unfolded it, sniffing like a puppy before popping something dried into her mouth. She chewed uncertainly, then nodded and tucked the rest in her pocket.
Betty glanced at the cave’s entrance. How far behind them were the warders? And where was Jarrod? ‘Enough with the picnic,’ she said. ‘We got you to the boat. So, out with it – how do we break the curse?’
Colton stiffened, his back to them. Slowly he straightened up from the crates, and turned to them with a shaky breath.
And in that one breath, Betty knew.
‘I’m sorry,’
he said quietly. ‘I – I lied to you. I don’t know how to break it.’
Betty felt herself sway and reached out to grab a rocky ledge for support. Waves crashed in the distance, and it was the sound of all her hopes being dashed against the rocks. The cave closed in, tightening the world around her. All she had hoped for . . . gone. Her dreams shattered for the second time in as many days. She had put her sisters’ lives in danger and broken two prisoners out of a high-security jail, and for what? Nothing, except to be used, and become a criminal herself.
‘You . . . you don’t know anything?’ she asked. She felt hollow, dizzy. Like a low wave could wash her off her feet. She’d had her doubts about Colton, but she had wanted so badly to believe him. There was nowhere to go from here except back to the start, to try to find another way. Already, she didn’t know if she had the strength or whether she could harness the swirling rage within her. She released the ledge and stepped towards Colton unsteadily, her hands tightening into fists. No wonder Granny had never taken the risk to get him out. She must have been tempted, but never quite convinced enough. She’d been wiser than Betty, much wiser.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said again, holding up his hands in what was meant to be a calming gesture. It enraged Betty all the more.
‘Don’t you dare apologise!’ she cried. ‘Don’t you know what we’ve just done for you? What we risked?’ A sob of anger and frustration forced its way into her voice, choking her. ‘And for what? We’re still stuck in Crowstone as much as we ever were! We helped you for NOTHING!’
Fliss appeared at her side, ashen-faced. ‘All of it . . . lies?’ Her voice was cold, un-Fliss-like. Under the bubbling anger, Betty could hear hurt and disappointment. ‘Shame on you! You haven’t a shred of honour!’
A Pinch of Magic Page 13
