The Secrets of Winterhouse

by Ben Guterson

  “Choose it!” Gracella screamed. Her face looked horrible, a mask of rage and hatred.

  Elizabeth opened her hand and looked at the pendant glistening on her palm. “I choose…” she said.

  Gracella’s eyes widened as she waited for Elizabeth’s words.

  “I choose not to use this for evil.” Elizabeth turned her hand over and let the necklace drop to the ground. It clanked with a dull echo. “I choose the good side.” She looked at it on the ground; it was smaller and duller than she’d ever seen, a disk of marble strung on a listless chain. She looked up to focus on Gracella but was immediately distracted. A shrill sound—like ice popping on a frozen pond—arose, but from where, Elizabeth couldn’t tell. And then suddenly the sculpture beside her burst from some fierce explosion within it, and a thousand shards of ice rained on the dirt floor. Elizabeth twisted away, and then all went silent.

  The crimson light that had filled the passageway was gone. There was no sound anywhere. Elizabeth lifted her flashlight and shined it before her. There, on the ground, lay Gracella, withered and crumpled in her black clothes, completely motionless. Selena lay where she’d been, the awful slick of blood still at her lips. And Elana—or, rather, the old woman she had become—stood with her arms out and her face an eerie mask of incomprehension, her eyes barely open.

  “What happened?” Elana said feebly. Her voice was an old woman’s, unsteady and low.

  Elizabeth shined her light on the necklace on the ground. It looked like a dull and tiny thing now, simply a piece of jewelry. “I don’t know,” Elizabeth said. She turned her flashlight back to Gracella. “I don’t know.”

  The sound of voices came from the far turn of the passageway.

  “Elizabeth!” someone called, and the sound vibrated upon the walls. “Elizabeth!”

  A light was shining from far down the chamber, a dull reflection of yellow.

  “I’m here!” Elizabeth called. “I’m here!”

  A burst of light filled the passageway, and then everything was bright and there was noise and confusion everywhere as Norbridge, Jackson, Sampson, and five others entered the corridor.

  “Norbridge!” Elizabeth said, throwing herself into his arms. “Norbridge!”

  She began to sob uncontrollably, barely hearing him say to the others, “Take care of all of this! Get some more help down here if you need it, but let’s take care of everything here!”

  He curled his head close to hers and whispered, “It’s all right, Elizabeth. It’s all right.”

  CHAPTER 34

  A FINAL VIEW ALIVE

  At mid-morning two days after New Year’s, a group of a dozen guests—including Egil P. Fowles, Mr. and Mrs. Wellington, and Mr. and Mrs. Rajput—stood on the platform around the broad white disk in the camera obscura room. Elizabeth, Norbridge, and Leona were there, too; and everyone stood looking to Freddy, visible only by the light of the small bulb in the control panel beside him. The rest of the room was dark, and the disk of the screen seemed to hover in black silhouette before the group as they awaited what Freddy would reveal.

  “So when I let the light in through the box up there,” Freddy said, gazing toward the ceiling, upward along the rope he was holding, “the image will display right here on this round screen. We’re lucky it’s a clear day, because if not, we wouldn’t be able to see anything.”

  “I understand the cloudy weather will be returning tomorrow,” Mr. Rajput said glumly. “And then no one will be able to see anything here at all.”

  “Shh!” said his wife. “Let him continue.”

  “It’s okay,” Freddy said. “Any questions before I show it to you?”

  “Is it truly the case,” Mr. Wellington said, “that this is the first public viewing offered here in decades?”

  “I can confirm that,” Norbridge said. “We had, unfortunately, allowed this attraction to fall into disrepair and ended up closing this room.”

  “I saw this apparatus myself over forty years ago,” Egil P. Fowles said, “and I am certain each of you will find it exhilarating, sublime, and transporting. In short, a wonder. Do you know Aristotle was aware of the workings of the camera obscura well over two thousand years ago?”

  “Ever the instructor, Professor Fowles!” Norbridge said to him. “For now, however, let me go on record as stating I am exceedingly proud of Mr. Freddy Knox here for returning this camera obscura to a working state.” In the pale light, Norbridge looked to Freddy, and the small group began to applaud.

  “Thank you,” Freddy said, beaming. He flexed his biceps. “Camera. Ace arm.”

  “Freddy?” Norbridge said, extending a hand toward Freddy in invitation. “Please proceed.”

  “Okay, Mr. Falls,” Freddy said. He gave a tug on the rope he was holding, and once again that vibrant burst of light and color Elizabeth recalled from several days before blossomed on the white disk. Everyone on the platform gasped in delight. Before them, in brilliant hues of gray and white and blue was Lake Luna and the mountains beyond.

  “Astonishing!” Mr. Rajput said, with more excitement than Elizabeth had ever heard in his voice.

  “That is beautiful, Freddy,” Leona said.

  “Extraordinary!” Mr. Wellington said, and they all stood admiring the image and gesturing to this and that on the screen. A jay flew by, and everyone marveled to see it glide along, as though it was a miracle that what they were looking at was really and truly a view of the world just outside the hotel’s walls at that very moment.

  Elizabeth caught Freddy’s glance and shared a smile with him. The bruising around his eye had subsided; it was now only a purple-green splotch that looked a fraction as bad as it had three days before when she’d visited him in the infirmary. She gave him a thumbs-up, and he laughed with delight.

  The group took in the view on the disk for several minutes, and then Freddy adjusted the box to offer another direction and then another. He zoomed in and out, to show an approaching bus in close-up or to take in the vista of the valleys far to the east. It seemed that no one wanted the demonstration to end, that everyone would have been content to have Freddy continue with his demonstration for hours. But after a good thirty minutes, Norbridge made a few final-sounding comments, the people on the platform began offering congratulations and thank-yous to Freddy, and then only Freddy, Elizabeth, Norbridge, Leona, and Egil P. Fowles remained.

  Freddy switched on the lights, and the room was bathed in bright yellow once again.

  “Well, that was an enormous success,” Leona said. “Bravo to you, young man.”

  “I concur wholeheartedly,” Egil P. Fowles said, adjusting his glasses with both hands. “Stupendous. It’s a shame you’re unable to attend Havenworth Academy. We’d love to have your questing, practical intelligence as a presence at our school.”

  “Elizabeth will be there!” Freddy said.

  “And we are ecstatic about that,” Professor Fowles said, looking to her. “Monday. Classes resume.”

  Even with everything that had happened over the past several days, Elizabeth’s attention had been turning to the excitement of starting at a new school. “I can’t wait,” she said. Not only was she looking forward to meeting new people and starting at what she felt would be a wonderful school, but she was also ready to step into a new routine. After the unsettling events surrounding the pendant and Gracella and the passageways, Elizabeth was eager for the normality of the classroom.

  “We have a new student teacher this semester, as well,” Egil Fowles said. “Norbridge, you’ll find this of interest. He’s at the college over near Bruma, and he’ll be doing his training with us. Hyrum Crowley is his name. Damien’s grandson.”

  Elizabeth felt a strange thrill run through her at this name. “The writer?” she said.

  “The very one,” Egil Fowles said. “Seems like a bright young man.”

  Leona shook her head lightly. “Well, his grandfather was certainly interesting.”

  “I’ve read every one of his books,”
Norbridge said loudly. “Every one! The man was a weaver of words, a sorcerer of sentences, a professor of paragraphs!”

  “You liked his books?” Freddy said.

  “Loved them!” Norbridge looked to Elizabeth. “You, too, yes?”

  “They’re very good,” she said. She couldn’t say why, but the thought that the great writer’s grandson would be at Havenworth Academy made her even more eager to start at the school. “Kind of on the strange side, but good.”

  “Aren’t we all?” Egil P. Fowles said, which made everyone laugh. “But I must depart now.” He checked his watch. “My wife will be expecting me shortly. Kudos to you, sir,” he said, shaking hands with Freddy. “Elizabeth, we’ll see you bright and early on Monday. Norbridge and Leona, au revoir, adiós, and Gesundheit.” With a general salute, he walked down the ramp and out the door.

  “Good man, poor chess player,” Norbridge said, gazing downward.

  “Who’s going to give the demonstrations once Freddy leaves?” Elizabeth said, and even as the words left her mouth, she regretted saying them. She turned to Freddy. “Gosh, I don’t want to think about you being gone.”

  “Maybe I’ll come at Easter,” Freddy said. “Unless, of course, my parents change their minds. Again.” For the first time that morning, his smile disappeared.

  “I’ll drop them a note,” Norbridge said. “Perhaps I can encourage them to join us for Easter.”

  Freddy stood tying the long pulley rope to a railing beside the control box; he looked dejected. “Just as long as I can come back to Winterhouse. If they don’t come, it’s no big deal.”

  “I hope they do come,” Elizabeth said. “It’s nice to have your family around.” She gave Norbridge a smile; but even as she did, she found herself thinking of Elana, who was still resting in the infirmary and suffering, it seemed, from a sort of shock. Elizabeth had only glimpsed her from the doorway, once, the day before, and Elana looked as old and undone as a ninety-year-old woman in a nursing home. Elizabeth couldn’t help but feel sorry for her—even after learning that she and Selena and the Powters had never left the hotel but had hidden, along with Gracella, in the Thatchers’ room before making their assault on Winterhouse three nights before.

  “What do you think is going to happen to Elana?” she said.

  Norbridge shook his head. “No idea at this point. Her parents and brother are long gone, so I don’t know. For now, she’ll stay here.”

  “I feel awful about what’s happened to her,” Elizabeth said. “I think she was just doing what the people in her family told her to do, but I don’t think she liked it. A few times it even seemed like she wanted to warn me about what was happening. She didn’t deserve this.”

  “I’m of the same mind,” Leona said. “Just awful, that family. The whole lot of them. Awful.”

  “I wouldn’t mind if Rodney turned old,” Freddy said. He’d explained to Elizabeth that it had been Rodney himself who had attacked him, surprising him from behind and then hitting him, stealing the key, and leaving him unconscious in the hallway. “Or at least maybe, like, forty or fifty.”

  “Be charitable, Mr. Knox,” Leona said. “Be charitable.”

  “What sort of people would ‘loan’ their own daughter to Selena and Gracella, even if they were all related?” Norbridge said, shaking his head sadly. “Hard to understand. If there’s any way to track them down, I’ll look into it. I wouldn’t be surprised if they decide to cook up some new scheme to get back at us.”

  He looked to Elizabeth. “I agree with you, too, that Elana’s not to blame for any of this. If there’s anything I can do to help her somehow, I’ll try my best.”

  “Maybe I can visit her when she’s feeling better,” Elizabeth said.

  Norbridge said nothing, but he nodded slowly—and warmly—to her.

  “What happened to Selena?” Elizabeth said.

  Norbridge inclined his head to Elizabeth and gazed downward. “Six feet out of the way in the Havenworth Cemetery. Really and truly. Not that I want you to verify that with any future visits, but still. I witnessed her burial myself.”

  “And you’re sure Gracella is no threat?” Freddy said. “Totally, completely, for sure?”

  This was a strange part of the story to Elizabeth, something Norbridge had explained and that, although she accepted it, remained ominous. After everything had been secured in that part of the passageway far below Winterhouse where Elizabeth had found the ice sculpture, and after Elizabeth had left with Norbridge and Elana had been carried back to the hotel and Selena’s body had been removed, Gracella remained where she lay. The five men who’d joined Norbridge and Jackson and Sampson, despite every effort, had been unable to lift her body. Even when they brought several others down to assist, Gracella’s lifeless form resisted all attempts to budge it. In fact, all of her—not only her body but her clothing as well—was as hard as rock, as though the moment she’d expired she had transformed into stone. Lying on the ground, she seemed more a statue than a person who had once been alive. In consultation with Norbridge, everyone conceded there was nothing to do but leave her in place. And so he’d had a concrete wall built around her—leaving her entombed—and then had both ends of the passageway filled with rocks and secured with mortar. If, on the one chance in a million Gracella somehow was not truly dead, she would be unable to escape from the chamber she’d find herself in should she awaken.

  “Let me put it this way,” Norbridge said. “We’ve done everything we can to protect ourselves from her. That’s all we can do. Remain vigilant.”

  Even at the mention of Gracella’s name, Elizabeth found herself back deep below Winterhouse and staring into those cold eyes as the sorceress spoke to her. The incident was too immediate, too frightening. She’d been over it several times in conversation with Norbridge, but it was all almost as alarming still as it had been when it happened. The one thing she hadn’t mentioned to Norbridge—the one thing she kept turning over in her own mind—was the recurring feeling of temptation she had felt throughout the entire search in the passageways and the moments when Gracella had confronted her.

  “But you never answered her question,” Leona said, and Elizabeth, although confused by what Leona was saying, was glad to not have to dwell too long on thoughts of Gracella.

  Norbridge turned to her with a look of annoyance he was working hard to maintain. “And just what question is that, Miss Springer?”

  “Who will provide demonstrations after that sad day when Freddy departs the hotel?”

  Norbridge looked surprised. “I hadn’t given it any thought.”

  “Why doesn’t Elizabeth do it?” Freddy said.

  Elizabeth felt instantly uncertain. “Wait a minute. I don’t know about all this stuff. And I’ll be in school, too.”

  “She has a point,” Leona said. “And then there is her budding career as my assistant—”

  “On the weekends!” Freddy said. “Like just a couple of times every Saturday and Sunday!” He looked to Elizabeth. “What do you think?”

  “Maybe you can show her the ropes, so to speak, and she can make up her mind,” Norbridge said.

  Freddy held his hands up and looked to Elizabeth. “Yeah? What do you think?”

  “I guess I could try,” she said.

  “You’ll be running this hotel before long,” Leona said with a laugh.

  Elizabeth laughed with Leona and thought again of how she’d felt when she’d first heard those words from Kiona. There was something both exhilarating and scary about this prospect, about considering a destiny she wouldn’t have even guessed might be hers two weeks earlier.

  “I just barely started living here at Winterhouse,” she said. “I don’t really think I’m going to run things.”

  Norbridge looked to Leona. “And I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.” He paused, turned serious. “But someone will need to run this place someday.”

  “What was that you once told me about Winterhouse?” Elizabeth said. “About it be
ing more than just a hotel?”

  “It is,” Norbridge said. “Here at Winterhouse there is a … it’s like a…” He looked to Leona. “You’re better at this than I am. Can you explain?”

  “We’re one of nine,” Leona said flatly.

  “What?” Elizabeth wasn’t sure she’d heard her correctly.

  Leona nodded. “That’s right. One of nine. I know this may sound like mumbo jumbo, but there are nine places in the world where the spirit of goodness resides and where it must be protected. Winterhouse is one of these places.”

  “Are you kidding?” Freddy said. “That sounds—”

  “Crazy,” Norbridge said. “Flabbergasting, even. Gobstopping, as the French say.”

  “The British,” Leona said. “But he’s right. I wouldn’t believe it if someone told me.”

  Elizabeth shook her head and then pressed her hands to her temples. “I don’t think I can take it all in right now.”

  Leona shrugged. “That’s the whole story already. And I agree. Let’s just enjoy the day.”

  “Well, now, Leona,” Norbridge said, “there’s a bit more to the story, but that’s good enough for now.” He held out a hand to her. “Shall we go? Leave these two here with this contraption?”

  Leona nodded gracefully, took Norbridge’s hand, and with a dual wave, they headed down the walkway.

  “Oh, and Elizabeth,” Norbridge said casually, “please meet me in the lobby at four this afternoon.”

  “Are we going somewhere?” she said.

  Norbridge continued walking, and without looking back he said, “Yes. Your new room is ready, and I want to help you move in.”