“Why is it here?” she repeated, the words seeming to echo.
She finally managed to look at Ashford, not wanting to see what his face revealed. Had he betrayed them?
“You were supposed to destroy it,” Serena said, her voice scratchy from crying.
She mopped at her face and rushed to Ashford, hitting him square in the chest. She continued to pummel him. Tilly and Kostya made no move to stop her. With a pained expression, Ashford finally grabbed Serena’s small fists and pulled her into a hug. She immediately wriggled out of it and kicked him.
“You were supposed to destroy it but now it’s stolen my son. My only baby.” The tears started again and Tilly reached to pull her onto the chair next to her.
“Why didn’t you destroy it?” Kostya asked, sounding almost reasonable but looking as if he had witnessed a terrible accident. “Why did you say you did when you didn’t?”
His voice rose with each new word until Tilly thought he would start raining blows down on Ashford. Not surprisingly, she didn’t care to protect him.
Ashford glared at the book. “I tried,” he said. “I tossed it in a fire and it didn’t burn. I threw it in the sea and it was on my desk by the time I returned from the journey. The same happened when I buried it in the woods. I tried to chop it up with an axe and the damned blade shattered.”
Tilly thought she might throw up and leaned close to her knees. “Then what?”
Ashford shrugged. “I hid it in the old wine cellar, just as the boy said. I thought the tunnel leading down to it would collapse eventually and it would be sealed up at least.”
“How did he find it?” Serena wailed. “It’s clear he’s read it. He knows what it is, Kostya. What if he’s tried some of those things in there?”
“It called to him, no doubt,” Kostya said, sending a shiver down Tilly’s spine. The little color in Serena’s cheeks from crying slid right away. “Just as it called to him before he was born.” He moved to sit beside his wife and took her hands, chafing them between his. “There’s no stopping this now, my darling.”
She jerked her hands away. “What do you mean? Of course there is. You can’t honestly mean to let him go all that way? To actually learn more than he already has?”
“He’s right that he’s of an age to do what he wants,” Ashford said, pacing.
Tilly felt like sticking out her foot to trip him she was so angry and frustrated. And terrified. If they didn’t hear the hollering from down the hall, Owen might have shown Ariana the book. She had it in her blood, same as Ashford and his sister. Ashford thought he was rubbish at it, but she’d seen him do things. Things that had terrified her. And they all knew what Camilla had been capable of.
If Ariana had so much as touched a page of the book it might have awakened any powers she had. And Tilly knew she had them, based on the twisted future she had glimpsed and had been trying to prevent for seventeen years. It had clouded every one of her decisions, made her do things she never would have done. And after all that, the book still resurfaced and threatened all of it. Couldn’t be destroyed? She’d see about that.
“And if he’s honestly as strong as Sorin thought he was, then it’s for the best he learn to contain it. Who knows what havoc he’d cause if he meddled with the book on his own with no supervision or guidance. We’re lucky to nip this in the bud before things got out of hand.”
“But I don’t want him to go so far away,” Serena said pitifully. “He’ll calm down and decide against it, I’m sure. We’ll find a place to put that book once and for all, where no one will ever find it.”
They all jumped when the sitting room door crashed open again. Owen stood there, nowhere near calmed down yet. He looked at each of them in turn, shaking his head as if ashamed of them. Tilly thought perhaps he had the right to be.
“I’m taking the book with me,” he announced.
“Certainly not!” Serena jumped to her feet and stood in front of it, shielding it with her small body.
Kostya placed his arms around her shoulders. “It’s safest with the Povests if it truly can’t be destroyed.”
He glared again at Ashford, who looked stricken. The thought clearly never occurred to him. Tilly took pity on him and went to him, taking his hand.
“This can’t be happening,” Serena said. “You can’t be letting him go. And take that fiendish thing with him? It’s dangerous. You know how dangerous, Kostya.”
He winced. “It’s dangerous in the wrong hands, used by the wrong people. But I trust our son not to be rash with this. He’s a good lad, you know that. And Sorin’s led everyone wisely over the years.” He turned to Owen, who looked shocked he was getting away so easily. Also a little sad about it. “Owen, if you’ve looked through this book at all, as I’m sure you have since you’ve seen our names written in there, then you might have an inkling what it is. Your mother’s right that it can be very dangerous. You must learn well from Sorin and the others before you attempt even the mildest seeming spell in this book, do you understand?”
Owen nodded curtly. “Yes, Father. I’ve packed my things and mean to leave at once.”
Serena erupted into fresh sobs. “It will be dark soon. Eat a meal. Sleep on it. We can speak more in the morning.”
Owen sighed and hugged his mother, making Tilly choke up. “It’s for the best I go as soon as possible. I’ll send messages along the way so you know I’m safe.” He turned to Kostya and hugged him. “Thank you for trusting me, Da. It means a great deal.” He awkwardly hugged Ashford and thanked him for all he’d done for him over the years. He finally came to Tilly. “Please don’t keep secrets from Ariana,” he said, pulling her close.
Her heart dropped but before she could grab him and try to read whatever information his eyes might hold, he hauled the huge book into his arms and left. Serena dropped to her knees, her face in her skirts. Tilly stared at the spot where the book had been, too frozen with fear by Owen’s parting words to comfort her.
How could Owen possibly know all the secrets she’d been keeping?
***
Ariana prowled the back halls, worried Owen would really leave. She had nagged him so much while he packed that he kicked her out of his room. He promised her he would find her to say goodbye before he left, but she didn’t trust him. Not in his state of mind.
He blamed himself for what happened to Maria and while it probably was partly his fault, everything had worked out fine in the end. She was panicked at the time. Perhaps she didn’t hear Maria’s heartbeat due to her own racing heart. There was no possible way she had been dead. Not even for a second.
It continued to eat at her as she made her way into the kitchen. She nodded absently at Cook before returning to her fretful ruminations. Had her mother’s life saving technique brought Maria around or had it been Owen’s muttered hexes? She told him to shut up, not do a thing, but he wasn’t always in control of what he did. She’d seen that more than once.
No, she was certain that if Maria’s heart had indeed stopped beating it was the resuscitation that did it. Yes, that was what her mum called it all those years ago. Some sort of resuscitation. It was back when she used to give her lessons on flipping people, breaking noses, neck chops, and wriggling away from would-be attackers. Ariana never thought she would actually use it to restart someone’s heart.
“Except it wasn’t stopped,” she muttered.
It couldn’t have been. That would mean Owen did something to stop it and Ariana refused to believe such a thing.
“What wasn’t stopped, dear?” Cook asked.
“Nothing.” Ariana fled the room. A feeling of dread overwhelmed her. She ran smack into Owen, dragging his case behind him. “No,” she said breathlessly. “You can’t really go.”
He laughed ruefully. “How will you stop me?”
She was so upset she took his hand and tried to do one of the flips her mother taught her. If he had been unaware he would have ended up flat on his back, but she’d spent many years practici
ng on him. He knew exactly what she was up to.
“I guess brute force won’t keep you here,” she pouted, feeling tears rising. “Shall I try crying?” Her voice cracked and he winced.
“Please don’t,” he begged. “You know it’s for the best.”
“I don’t know any such thing,” she said, aware of the stubborn petulance in her voice but unable to stop it. She was ten years old once more, being dragged back to London after a lovely visit to her best friend. The months dragged until she could see him again. And now she had no idea how long it would be. If ever. “Come with me to the future instead,” she begged. “I already told you I’ve met loads of experienced people. They can teach you, same as they’re teaching me.”
He frowned and she thought he might relent. She almost dropped to her knees to pray he would relent.
“I should learn from my family,” he said. “Not strangers.” He smiled and reached for her hand. “Why don’t you come with me? Don’t dodge the question this time with nagging, either.”
For a split second she considered it. But her parents would never allow it. If she ran away, they would be heartbroken. It was easier to keep living her double life for now. They loved her in 1889 and she had already done so much good. Bought that fine property for weary magical travelers to stop at and commune with one another. The hex she made up for the orphanage and all the healing she planned to do.
Surely they needed her more than Owen did? The more she thought about it, it seemed like all the people she met in the future had been sitting around twiddling their thumbs until she came along. Now that they had a central meeting place she meant to get them more organized, show them what great things they could do if they all worked together.
But Owen continued to hold her hand and look expectant. Did he really want her along? He was always so much more powerful than her, always getting the spells right away. Even making up his own without trying. That hadn’t turned out very well in the end, though. Was this the end? Or should she go with him and muddle along, trying to keep up?
A big part of her heart wanted to do just that. Tag along after Owen as she always did up in Scotland. He always knew more about the woods, more about the wild creatures she loved. Her worst times with Owen were still some of her best memories overall. But a tiny part of her worried she’d disappear, surrounded by Owen’s magical relatives. He’d be the powerful prodigal son they would all dote on and she’d be ... another mouth to feed.
In the place she carved out in 1889, she was the clever one, the special one. The queen. The very smallest part of her heart wanted Owen to be the extra mouth to feed in her world so she could bestow her largesse on him, same as she had her new friends. With a hiss of pain at this realization of how petty she was, she pulled her hand from Owen’s grasp.
Like a balm to this new wound, Nick’s smiling face appeared in her mind. Yes, another reason not to go. A positive reason. She liked Nick, wanted to know him better. The thought of his forward ways made her tingle all over.
“I can’t,” she said, shaking her head. “I want to finish what I already started.”
“Ariana,” he said slowly, his handsome face contorted in a frown. “Don’t you remember what you heard your parents talking about? Something bad might happen to you if you keep going forward.”
That overheard conversation seemed so long ago, overheard when she was a powerless child. She wasn’t powerless anymore.
“I don’t think so. I don’t see how. And if something was truly supposed to happen, why would they keep it a secret all this time? Wouldn’t I be better served to be prepared for it?”
“They were wrong to keep secrets from us, but didn’t you see the looks on their faces when they saw the book? They must have done what they did out of fear.” He paused and rubbed his arms as if he felt a chill. “I’m afraid of it now.”
“That’s silly,” she tried to argue but he held up his hand.
“It’s not. We need to learn. I’m not doing another thing until I’m given proper instruction.”
“You’re being an old man.”
“I’m being a man,” he countered. “For once. This isn’t child’s play but we’ve been treating it like it is. Come with me and let’s learn together so neither one of us gets hurt.”
He stared at her until she had to look away. “You come with me,” she said, staring at her feet.
He sighed and opened the latches on his trunk. Pulling the book out from a pile of poorly folded clothes, he pressed it into her arms. She sagged under the weight of it.
“I said I was taking it and they let me,” he explained. “But I think you should have it. It’s from your family, after all.” Before she could say anything, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Goodbye, Ariana.”
She wondered if he cast one last hex on her because before she could do or say another thing to stop him, he was gone. Perhaps she was only stunned at the permanent sound of his goodbye.
Perhaps she blacked out from sorrow for a moment when he actually turned and walked away from her. Coming to her senses, she ran to the door and outside, standing on the front porch. He was already at the end of the long drive.
“Owen,” she hollered. “Get back here.”
He didn’t turn and he didn’t stop dragging his trunk away. She watched him through her tears as he went out the gate and rounded the corner, never once looking back.
Chapter 22
Owen regretted giving up doing spells when he asked in the nearest tavern what the easiest way to get to Moldavia would be. Every answer was the same. There was no easy way.
He had a feeling his feet would be quite raw by the time he ever got to see his extended family. His trunk had to go. If he couldn’t carry it on his back, he’d sell it for extra money. He never actually begged before but he decided if it came to it, he would do it. His parents’ continued denial of what he was decided him on that.
As he found the nearest pawn broker to unload most of his worldly possessions, he wished things had gone differently. If his father had seen the ancient spell book and been honest about it, maybe he would be having supper at Belmary House right now.
He had a stab of guilt over his own dishonesty. The book had been hidden, after all. How would things be different if he confessed he was having nightmares that led him to the thing? Would they have explained everything back then?
Once his load was lightened and his pockets a wee bit fuller, he ambled in the direction he needed to go, laughing dismally to himself about the immense distance he had to cover. He wouldn’t be out of London before the night was over. It seemed impossibly far.
He found himself backtracking and without consciously deciding to do it, ended up in front of Maria’s house. He only wanted to look at the place and remember the better times. The first time he met Maria he’d been himself, too confused and out of place to be anything else. But as the days and the parties wore on, he discovered that she and her friends found him less and less charming. They were out to get husbands and while he might have been handsome and diverting, he was not husband material.
He was angry at Ariana for pushing them together. He tried to remind himself that she meant well. She never took part in any snobbery but she knew all along how the others in her group were.
She should have never let him believe he was good enough for any of them. But dear, innocent Ariana thought he was not only good enough, but better. Her blind loyalty must have made him rash. Think he deserved better.
That was what he regretted most now that it was all over. The wicked idea that he deserved better. Even now he felt that same discontent as if it was a dried leaf stuck in the collar of his shirt. Scratching at him, crackling in his ear.
And of course, he missed Maria. He would have given anything to get a last glimpse of her before he set off on his long journey. He walked along the hedge until he knew he faced her window, then crossed the street to get a better view above the tall shrubbery.
His heart sped up t
o see the light on and the curtains not yet drawn against the coming night. He was positive he didn’t do anything to call her there, but she came to the window just the same.
Her silhouette wavered in the candle light behind her and for a split second he was afraid. But no, she was solid enough. It was only a trick of the light. He stared up at her, longing to try one more time to make her forgive him.
“You can’t make her forgive you any more than you could make her love you,” he told himself quietly.
It was time to turn away, let her go. But he couldn’t. Not yet. He closed his eyes and thought of her glossy, bouncy hair, the way her eyes glinted merrily when she laughed. The memories were overrun with images of her collapsing to the ground. The dark thing behind those eyes when she finally awoke.
He shuddered and looked at her window again. Maria still stood there and he knew he had to go before it was full night. He had to at least get out of the city and find a place to hunker down until morning. Unable to help himself, he raised his hand in a farewell wave to his first beloved.
At the same moment, Maria lifted her own hand. He gasped and staggered back a step. Could she see him? Had she been staring down at him this whole time he stared up at her? It seemed impossible. And yes, he saw now that she wasn’t waving at him, only raising her hand to draw the curtains shut. She pulled them halfway and paused.
He was positive then that she knew he was there. He couldn’t see her eyes but he could feel them trained directly on him. His legs screamed for him to move but he was frozen in her gaze. A cold sweat popped out on his back. He needed to go, not frighten her or upset her more than he already had. If only she would fully close the curtains. She continued to stand in the window and he felt a chill pass over him.
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