‘Who’s there—?’ she began.
Wordlessly, Betty reached out and pushed, hard. With a shocked cry, Prue stumbled backwards into the dank depths of the cupboard. Betty slammed the door, latching it fast. Rattles and thuds came from within as Prue clambered over piles of junk. There was a thump from the other side of the door as she found it. ‘Who’s there?’ she repeated, voice shrill.
Again, Betty hesitated. She should just leave, but some sense of honour kept her there, listening to Prue’s frightened breathing on the other side of the door. People had died because of her. Betty’s family and Sorsha had suffered because of her. And Betty knew she had to have the last word.
‘A friend,’ she said in a fierce whisper.
‘F-friend? But I don’t have any—’
‘A friend of Sorsha’s,’ Betty cut in. ‘Not yours, Prudence Widdershins! You had a friend. The best kind of friend: a sister. And you betrayed her.’ Her voice cracked and she fought to keep it under control. ‘But you haven’t won – not this time.’
‘I d-don’t understand . . .’
‘No,’ Betty said softly. ‘And now you never will.’ Silently, she backed away to the kitchen. She collected the bag and mirror, hiding them beneath the folds of her unseen clothes before retreating downstairs.
The Poacher’s Pocket had descended into a fracas. Fliss’s song had struck up a bawdy rendition with some of the other customers joining in, while dozens more were thumping on the bar to be served. Shattered glass crunched underfoot, but the cries of ‘rat’ had been drowned out.
She spotted Fliss some way along the counter, having been jostled out of position. Elbowing her way through the thickening crowd, Betty grabbed her sister’s arm and leaned close to her ear. ‘Fliss, it’s me. I got them!’
‘Betty!’ Fliss reached for her blindly, weak with relief.
‘Get the others,’ Betty said in a low voice, spying Charlie and Colton near the door. ‘And then let’s get out of here.’
Outside, Betty hurried to the deserted alley and made herself visible before returning to the street, where she almost collided with the others coming the opposite way.
‘You did it!’ Charlie squeaked, hugging her.
‘Only just,’ Betty answered, handing her the bag and passing the mirror to Fliss. ‘Come on, we need to move.’
‘I could get us to the Tower with the bag,’ Charlie suggested eagerly.
‘No, not yet,’ said Betty. ‘We can’t just arrive at the prison – we need to know what we’re dealing with and get a plan in place.’ She cast a fearful look over her shoulder, half-expecting Prue to burst out of the doors of the Poacher’s Pocket. ‘Follow me.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
Crowstone Tower
THEY HURRIED TOWARDS THE MARSHES, weaving around more people coming from the direction of the ferry. Though much of Crowstone was different, with familiar buildings missing or replaced by others, everything was still recognisable. Despite Granny’s frequent references to it, Betty still felt a jolt of shock when they reached the crossroads.
A tall gallows stood on a grassy mound. Steps led up to a wooden platform where a heavy rope noose was swaying in the breeze. Groups of people clustered nearby, staring and whispering.
‘No wonder Granny hates the crossroads,’ Fliss said, glassy-eyed with horror. ‘She said this was here when she was a little girl, and she’s never forgotten it. It’s so . . . so awful. Dreadful things have happened here.’
Betty pursed her lips. ‘We can make one less awful thing happen.’
They reached the shore, heading away from the ferry to a small, empty fishing cove. They picked their way through the shingle, mud squelching underfoot. Across the water, Crowstone Prison squatted like a giant toad, eyeing them like flies it planned to swallow.
‘Between the three of you, you have all you need to get into the Tower unseen and get Sorsha out,’ said Colton. Though it wasn’t warm, a film of sweat slicked his forehead. ‘You just need to figure out how. The Tower will be guarded.’
Fliss took the mirror out, keeping it half hidden within the folds of her shawl. ‘Show us the guards at Crowstone Tower,’ she whispered.
Immediately her reflection vanished and a warder appeared at the foot of the stone tower they knew so well. A cluster of keys hung from his belt. Beyond him lay the door which entered the Tower.
‘One guard,’ said Colton. ‘And one way in. But you need those keys.’
Betty nodded. ‘The objects can help us before we’re through that door, but after that it’s down to us to get Sorsha out of the tower room without magic.’
Fliss drew her shawl over the mirror’s surface, breaking the vision.
‘The dolls are the best chance of stealing the keys,’ said Betty. ‘After that, we distract him away from the door to get past him. Someone then needs to wait outside to keep watch, and lure him away again when Sorsha is safely out of the Tower and down the steps.’
Fliss nodded slowly. ‘So at least one of us needs to stay outside and wait.’
Betty looked expectantly at Colton; he had the most knowledge of the prison layout, and the warders. But he seemed troubled, his gaze returning to the prison. She could see the dread in his eyes, feel it coming off him in waves. For the first time she realised how afraid he must be of returning to the place he’d only just escaped.
‘I’ll do it,’ Fliss offered.
‘Once everyone’s out of the Tower it doesn’t matter if you’re seen,’ Colton murmured. ‘The bag will take care of everything else in an instant.’
Betty frowned. Something about Colton’s words was bothering her, but she couldn’t quite work out what it was. ‘How long until noon?’ she asked, looking up. The pale red moon floated like a bad omen.
‘I reckon you’ve got about an hour.’ Colton took a shaky breath. ‘But I . . . I—’
‘What?’ Fliss asked, sensing his sudden hesitation.
But Betty already knew. ‘You didn’t say “we”.’
He kept his eyes down, unable to look at any of them. Betty couldn’t help but think back to when they had first met, when Colton had swaggered into the visiting room full of bravado. All she saw now was a scared young man.
‘I don’t think I can go back there.’
‘Where?’ Fliss demanded. ‘The prison?’
‘Any of it,’ he mumbled. ‘The prison. And back . . . back to our time.’
Betty’s mouth dropped open. ‘What exactly are you saying? That you want to stay here? In . . . in the past?’
‘Well, why not?’ Colton’s head snapped up, anger flashing in his eyes. ‘What is there for me to go back to? Nothing, that’s what! No family. Nothing but a life of looking over my shoulder, wondering if my past is about to catch up with me. At least here I can start fresh, knowing I’m not being hunted. I don’t belong there.’
‘But . . . but . . .’ she faltered, struggling to process his words and the strength of her feeling against them. Why should it matter? the little voice in her head asked. Even if she had come to call Colton a friend, she knew she would never see him again after all this ended. His past would never go away. But if he stayed here, he would be the past, too . . . and the thought filled her with sorrow.
‘Maybe not,’ said Betty. ‘But you don’t belong here, either. You deserve more than this.’ She gestured to the gallows. ‘You really want to live in a world that’s worse than the one we know?’
Colton shrugged, a muscle twitching obstinately in his jaw. ‘No. But the point is, I’ll live.’
The sky was darkening with clouds, turning a bruise-like shade. Betty’s heart quickened. ‘We don’t have much time. So this is goodbye, Colton. And good luck.’ She held out her hand to shake his, but to her surprise he pulled her into a hug.
‘Good luck to you, too.’ His voice was muffled. ‘I know none of this was really about freeing me, but I’m grateful to you. All of you. Without you I’d still be inside those walls, rotting.’ He released Betty an
d ruffled Charlie’s hair, then turned to Fliss.
‘Farewell, princess.’
‘I’m not—’ Fliss began.
‘I know, I know.’ A small smile tugged at his mouth. He lifted his fingers to Fliss’s short hair. ‘It suits you,’ he said softly, dropping his hand.
‘Wait.’ Fliss bit her lip, then, blushing bright pink, stood on her tiptoes and kissed Colton on the lips. ‘For luck,’ she said, her eyes shimmering with tears as she returned to her sisters.
A lump rose in Betty’s throat. Perhaps in Colton her sister had finally found someone who wouldn’t fall at her feet; whom she wouldn’t eventually tire of. Or perhaps this was just another silly Fliss kiss. Either way, time wasn’t their friend, so they would never know. It would for ever be a kiss of kindness, of lost chances, and what ifs.
Betty rolled her eyes, doing her best to sound scathing. ‘Well, you just wouldn’t be you if you went a day without kissing someone, would you?’
‘Oh, be quiet,’ Fliss snapped. ‘Let’s go. Charlie, the bag!’
‘Wait!’
This time, the voice was Colton’s. He jogged to Fliss’s side and linked his arm in hers.
‘You changed your mind?’ she asked, her eyes shining.
‘I lost my nerve for a minute there.’ He smiled at Fliss. ‘But now, I’m feeling pretty lucky.’
‘I’m feeling sick,’ Betty announced, but she couldn’t help smiling. ‘Right. Everyone ready this time, really ready?’ She took the nesting dolls, reaching for the inner ones into which she placed the little bits belonging to each of them. She twisted the halves to align, making them all invisible. Stowing them safely in her pocket, she linked arms with Fliss and Charlie, nudging her youngest sister.
‘Now.’
Charlie took a deep, bracing breath. ‘Crowstone Tower,’ she whispered.
I’m never, ever going to get used to this feeling, Betty thought as the shingle whooshed from under her. Briny air bit her cheeks and forced her eyes closed, and she heard Fliss gurgle a nauseous ‘Oohhh!’
They landed as clumsily as ever, and though Charlie somehow managed to stay on her feet, the rest of them didn’t fare so well. To Betty’s dismay, Colton cried out upon landing as his left leg gave under him. Though he bit it back almost immediately, the sound echoed off the walls of the stone courtyard they found themselves in. Above, crows scattered and squawked.
Betty released her grip on Fliss and Charlie and stepped back, staring up at the Tower whose shadow loomed over them. The sheer distance to the top made her woozy; she had never been so close to it, never realised just how high it was. She blinked, and a vision of falling flashed before her eyes, dizzying her. No! She could not let that happen. She was so busy searching the windows that she failed to notice the heavy wooden door until a warder came charging through it.
His eyes darted round the courtyard in suspicion. In one hand he held a thick wooden baton. His other hand rested on his belt, by an iron hook holding two keys. He squinted at a skid in the gravel, then frowned up at the tower windows. Satisfied nothing sinister was afoot, he returned to the tower wall next to the unlocked door which was ajar. Content he was apparently alone, he took out a pipe and began craftily stuffing it with tobacco, ready to dart back through the tower door if any other warders appeared.
‘Fliss and I will go together,’ Betty mouthed. ‘I’ll steal the keys, then we’ll sneak up the stairs to get Sorsha. Colton, you stay here with Charlie until we return. And here.’ She pushed the nesting dolls into Colton’s hands. ‘Keep hold of these. Once we’re through that door, Fliss and I won’t be invisible, but taking the dolls into the tower would mean you and Charlie wouldn’t stay hidden, either.’
Hearts pounding and hardly daring to breathe, Betty and Fliss crept closer to the warder, as quietly as they could over the gravel. With each footstep Betty’s chest thumped harder, and for the first time she was grateful for the cries of the crows circling overhead, to mask any sounds of their approach. When they were a mere stride away, Betty reached out and, with a shaking hand, wrapped her fingers around the keys to stop them rattling. With her other hand, she eased the hook slowly out of the warder’s belt. She almost dropped the keys when the warder went into a bout of coughing, but somehow kept her nerve. To her relief the keys dropped into her hand.
In a cloud of the warder’s smoke, they backed away, glancing back to where Colton and Charlie were watching anxiously. Then they approached the tower door.
Betty steeled herself and pushed the door, waiting for a creak to betray them. It opened soundlessly. She stared at Fliss in amazement and delight as they slipped into the Tower, unable to believe how easily they had managed it. Through the open door, they saw Colton and Charlie dancing a silent jig of celebration.
They were standing in a narrow, dank passage with a curving flight of steps leading up. Betty motioned for Fliss to creep ahead and began to follow.
It was then that things went catastrophically wrong, when Betty tripped on the very first step. At the sound of her stumbling, Fliss spun round and made a grab for her, but it was too late. The noise had alerted the warder – and now they were inside the Tower, they were without the power of the dolls to keep them hidden.
They froze on the staircase as the warder loomed in the doorway, the pipe falling from his open mouth in shock. Yet as well as surprise, his face registered fear and confusion.
‘Wh-who are you?’ he stammered. ‘Where did you come from?’ He reeled as he spied the keys in Betty’s hand and took a step back. ‘Wraiths!’ he yelled in a choked voice. ‘Spirits! The witch has summoned imps from the marshes! Wraiths, I tell you, will-o’-the-wisps! Send help—!’
Colton hit him at speed, flinging the warder aside. His face was contorted with panic as he bundled Charlie through the tower door. ‘The keys!’ he hissed, slamming the door shut behind them. ‘Quick!’
Betty threw the keys neatly and Colton caught them, jamming one in the door. He swore, removed it, then tried the other one. The lock clicked in place, sealing them inside the tower like a tomb. Outside, the warder continued to yell.
What have I done? Betty thought. What in crow’s name have I done? If we’re caught we’ll never make it home!
‘Up the stairs!’ Colton gasped, ashen-faced. ‘Hurry. It won’t be long before he raises the alarm!’
Betty grabbed Charlie’s hand and began climbing the staircase.
‘What will they do?’ she croaked helplessly. ‘How will we get out now?’
‘I don’t know,’ Colton said as he set upon the steps behind her. His mouth was pressed in a grim line. ‘All I know is that in a few minutes half the warders in this prison will be surrounding the Tower.’
Up they went, and up, in a dizzying spiral. Aside from a scattering of tiny windows in the passageway, only a few wall sconces lit the way, sending flickering shadows across the walls as they passed. Ahead of her, Betty heard Fliss’s breath coming hard and fast. Next to her Charlie gripped her hand so tightly her fingers were numb. Behind, Colton’s footfall was heavy with exhaustion and dread.
For Betty, too, every step became agony, not only from her burning leg muscles, but from the knowledge that their way out of the Tower was well and truly blocked. They were every bit as trapped as Sorsha Spellthorn.
They had made it to the last turn of the staircase when from outside the Tower a sonorous clanging of the prison bell began. The alarm had been sounded.
Fliss was first to reach the door at the top. She half-slid down it, gasping for breath as Betty staggered towards her, urging Charlie, who had begun to whimper softly.
Colton, too, was rasping for air and his hands shook as he fumbled with the keys, inserting one into the lock and turning it.
Despite everything, Betty wondered how she would have felt at this moment if the last few minutes hadn’t turned out so disastrously. Quite possibly, she thought, she would have felt excited, and a little afraid of what lay in wait on the other side of the door. Only n
ow, there was no time for that. Time for the Widdershins had very nearly run out.
Colton gave the door a hard push and stepped inside.
Betty followed, her eyes raking over the vast, circular tower room. It was all she had expected: gloomy, desolate, sparsely furnished. And then there were the words . . . walls scrawled with words that descended into meaningless jumble.
Too late she saw the figure silhouetted against the window, arms wide, tawny hair trailing into the tower room behind her as the wind whistled through it.
Too late, Betty saw she was already falling.
‘Sorsha, no!’ Betty yelled.
Somehow Sorsha twisted, half-turning to look back at them as she fell. Her eyes were wild and bitter, but there was just time for surprise to register, too. She seemed to hang in the air like a feather for a moment, a question forming on her lips . . .
. . . then she was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Fly
‘NO!’ BETTY MOANED. ‘NO, NO, no . . .’
From outside the Tower, horrified shouts drifted up. Betty sank to her knees, unable to bring herself to go to the window. They had been so close, suffered so much . . . for what? Her last hope was gone, and so was Sorsha.
‘We’re too late.’ Colton drew Fliss to him with one arm, and Charlie with the other. Charlie was weeping quietly, while Fliss was stiff with shock. ‘We were just . . . too late.’ The keys slid from his hand and landed on the floor.
Betty’s gaze swept the gloomy, desolate room, taking in the place where Sorsha had lived the final part of her life. This isn’t a room, she thought. It’s a grave. Numb, she got up and walked to the wall, her fingertips tracing the deep scratches there. Scratches that formed bitter, hateful words: Malice. Injustice. Cowardice. Escape . . .
WIDDERSHINS.
Betty closed her eyes but the word remained, like it was etched into her soul. So much hate. How could she have ever thought it possible to undo the curse? How had she ever hoped for such a thing? She thought back to her life in Crowstone, her simple little life that she had scorned for not being enough. Now, it seemed it had. And had Betty been a little less bold, less discontented and more like Fliss, she might still have a future to look forward to. And so might her sisters, if they hadn’t listened to her.
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