Sir Hugh swung Seraphina into his arms and followed them. Without complaint, he trod the halls and bent to navigate the narrow passage. The golden orb glided behind them. They paused in the little annex that surrounded the stone tower, so Seraphina could examine the construction.
“Oh, what a treasure this house conceals.” Seraphina reached out and laid her hands flat against the stones. “What sin did you commit, my friend, that you were bricked away?”
Silence fell over the room as the mage communed with the spirit of the house. Then Hannah’s mother turned to her. “Here is the source of the magical trace I feel, Hannah. Do you think this old lady will yield her secrets to us?”
Excitement built inside Hannah. Her mother confirmed that a magical mystery shrouded the tower. What would they uncover? Did the trace come from the engravings in the fireplace, or something hidden deeper still?
Once they reached the circular room, Hannah shook out a plaid wool blanket and laid it out in front of the fireplace.
Hugh set Seraphina down and she shuffled herself closer to peer into the fireplace. Wycliff and Hugh talked in hushed tones for several minutes, as the mage compared the engraved stones laid in either side of the surround.
At last, Seraphina sat back and gestured Hannah closer. “I say, Hannah, this is fascinating. Both sides are the same, are they not?”
“Yes, that is what I discovered from comparing the rubbings. But I don’t know if the duplication means anything. It could simply be an eye-catching, but meaningless, decoration. Will you be able to discern what the writing means?” Hannah knelt on the blanket beside her mother. The fireplace was easily large enough to accommodate both women as they examined the drawings.
“It will take me a few minutes, but let us find out.” Her mother murmured under her breath and passed her hand down the line of engravings. The hieroglyphics slowly began to transform in the stone and reform themselves, like dancers moving to unheard music.
Hannah stood and moved to stand by the window, to give her mother space to translate the pictures. The whispered magic brushed over her arms and she rubbed them gently.
“Are you cold?” Wycliff enquired. A frown marred his brow. Since her near drowning, he fussed over her like a broody hen.
“No, it’s only Mother’s magic tickling me.” While they waited, Hannah gazed down at the overgrown lawn. In her mind, she imagined the years they would spend at the estate, and the ways in which they would improve it. Perhaps, one day, there might be children playing among the trees. Not necessarily their own, for there were plenty of children without families to whom they could offer shelter and a place to thrive. They could even establish a school within the grounds.
“Do you think it is possible to link this tower to the house in a way that is easier to access? I would like to be able to use this room, if possible,” she said to Wycliff.
He blew out a sigh and looped one arm around her waist. “I have no idea. We will have to examine the plans and see what rooms are on either side of the passage to see if we can enlarge the corridor. You do seem rather taken with tearing down walls in Mireworth.”
“That reminds me—I want to restore the library, too.” She should make a copy of the house plans and pin them to a wall. That way, she could mark up areas to restore as finances allowed.
“I have it!” Seraphina called out at length. “This is a binding spell, but I cannot discern who, or what, it ensnares.” She waved her hands and the letters she had been studying transformed back into hieroglyphics. “I think we are missing a third point to this triangle.”
“What do you mean?” Hannah returned to her mother’s side, pulled by the mystery contained within the fireplace. “There are only these two stones on either side. That is more rectangular than triangular.”
Seraphina gestured to the stones on her left and right. “If these are two sides and we drew a triangle, where would it point?”
Hannah considered the proposition and in her mind, drew different variants of a triangle using the sides as two points. “That would depend on the direction of the triangle. It could point up, to something in the chimney or on the roof. Down to something in the room below. Across this room to the stairs or…”
“Or to the rear of the fireplace?” Seraphina suggested.
Hannah stared at the interior, coated with probably hundreds of years of soot until it formed an impenetrable mass. Had she missed something? “Hypothesise, then strategise,” she whispered.
“Why don’t I clean the firebricks first, before we decide to send Timmy up the chimney?” Seraphina patted Hannah’s hand.
Her mother began to work a new spell, murmuring and waving her fingers as though she scratched an invisible itch. The rear of the fireplace vibrated, then a tiny chip of soot broke free and fell. Soon, baked-on charcoal shook itself from the rear stones and tumbled in chunks to the grate. Piece by piece it fell, revealing more layers behind. A fine black mist spread through the room as centuries of soot fell to the mage’s magic.
Hannah gasped as time turned backward and the tower revealed another of her secrets. The rear of the fireplace held a single large stone, three feet square. Etched into its surface stood jackal-headed Anubis. On either side of the god of the underworld sat an enormous fiery hellhound.
“All a little too coincidental, don’t you think?” Seraphina turned to gaze at Wycliff.
He knelt and peered over Hannah’s shoulder at the creatures that had been living in the fireplace for centuries. “What are you suggesting? That these stones lugged back from the Crusades in Egypt had something to do with my men being slaughtered and my being turned into this creature?”
Seraphina gestured to the carving. “If you have another explanation, I am all ears. Until then, have you viewed this room as the hellhound?”
“No.” He fell silent.
“Try?” Hannah asked. “For me?”
Wycliff nodded and walked to the other side of the room, away from them. He closed his eyes and his form shimmered around the edges as he commanded the beast to his side. When he opened his eyes, Hannah bit back her startled cry. His eyes glowed red with the hound’s internal fire. His head swung back and forth as he studied the room. He closed his eyes and when he opened them once more, the hellfire had retreated.
“What did you see?” Hannah moved to his side and rested a hand on his arm as he shook off the last vestiges of the hellhound.
Wycliff stared at the fireplace. “The hieroglyphics and the images have a faint outline that glows purple. A pale lilac mist that feels the same rises up through the stone floor, like rain that falls upward instead of down.”
“Now, isn’t that fascinating,” Seraphina said.
Hannah clasped her hands together. A purple glow? That was what she had seen in her odd dream, when her mother performed the renewal ceremony in her own tower in Westbourne Green. What could be in the ground floor of this tower that emitted a lilac mist? She turned to Wycliff with a thousand questions jockeying for attention in her head. “We simply must break through to the stone below, now.”
“Tomorrow, Hannah. The tower has sat here for five hundred years. I think she can hold on to her mystery until tomorrow.” Wycliff reached for her and in one fluid motion, swept her into his arms. “Just to ensure you don’t sneak off and start immediately with the sledgehammer.”
With that, he carried her down the stairs, her parents’ laughter following them through the narrow corridor.
“Tomorrow, then, since you promise,” she reluctantly agreed. She could wait another day.
Then one quiet idea swirled in a corner of her mind. The other ideas pulled back from it and left it isolated. Her mother had said the engravings were a binding spell. What if whatever made the purple otherworldly mist was bound by the spell to an eternity in the tower? Perhaps they should let it slumber undisturbed.
For now…
History. Magic. Family.
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I do hope you enjoyed Hannah’s
latest adventure. If you would like to dive deeper into the world, or learn more about the odd assortment of characters that populate it, you can join the community by signing up at:
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Hannah and Wycliff continue their journey in:
Hessians and Hellhounds
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Fire erases all… even the undead….
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One of London’s most recognisable Afflicted is erased from the earth in a fiery way. Whispers spread that a hellhound prowls the streets, snatching the lost souls who have escaped the afterworld. Except, Wycliff is doing no such thing—could there possibly be another such creature in London?
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While Hannah and Wycliff investigate the unnatural flames, unrest grows on the streets as someone seeks to unmask how the undead women stave off rot. Someone is agitating for all Afflicted to be eradicated, in a conspiracy that will set the common Englishman against the nobles.
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To save the Afflicted and stop the uprising, Wycliff must face the void that whispers his name from an inky darkness. He plans to wrest Hannah free of the curse squeezing her heart, assuming they can get out alive…
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Buy book 6: Hessians and Hellhounds
About the Author
Tilly writes whimsical historical fantasy books, set in a bygone time where magic is real. Her books combine vintage magic and gentle humour with an oddball cast. Through fierce friendships her characters discover that in an uncertain world, the most loyal family is the one you create.
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Also by Tilly Wallace
For the most complete and up to date list of books, please visit the website
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Manner and Monsters
Manners and Monsters
Galvanism and Ghouls
Gossip and Gorgons
Vanity and Vampyres
Sixpence and Selkies
Hessians and Hellhounds
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Highland Wolves
Secrets to Reveal
Kisses to Steal
Layers to Peel
Souls to Heal
Sixpence and Selkies Page 22
