Box of Secrets

by Raquel Lyon

  “You think I’m lucky I lost my dad and a bunch of strangers took pity on me?” Piper shouted back as she urged her horse to follow.

  Maddie reined her ride in. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “No. I know, and you’re right. I am lucky—lucky to have finally found some like-minded people who are interested in my situation.”

  “Are you trying to say I’m not sympathetic?”

  “I didn’t mean you,” Piper said as they continued at a more leisurely pace. “You’re the one person who’s stood by me. I was talking about Detective Newton.”

  “Still giving you the silent treatment?”

  “Every day.” Piper’s answer was overshadowed by a thunderous clap from the heavens. She debated whether to tell Maddie about Sam taking on her case, but decided it would only lead to questions she was sure she wouldn’t be allowed to answer. The supernatural world’s desire for secrecy probably included not confiding in friends, and besides, Maddie would never believe her.

  Overhead, a flash of lightning illuminated the landscape. “Maybe we should head back,” Piper shouted.

  “Or... we could shelter until it passes,” Maddie said. “Race you to that wood.”

  “No! Maddie, wait!” Piper called, but Maddie’s horse was already swishing its tail towards the trees.

  With the rain accumulating and pelting down in drops the size of marbles, Piper clicked her ankles and urged her ride to follow. Above her, the clouds collided and forks of lightning drew angry patterns in the blackened sky. She wiped her dripping hair from her eyes as she attempted to locate Maddie, and through the blur of the deluge, she spotted her approaching cover. Maddie stopped and turned her horse to await Piper, but before Piper could reach her, a huge bolt of lightning struck the tree under which Maddie had chosen to seek refuge, severing a large branch directly above her head.

  “Move!” Piper shouted, waving her arm and pointing to the hunk of wood crashing through the canopy. Any second now it would fall on Maddie with its crushing weight. “Maddie, watch out!”

  Maddie looked up at the branch and her eyes widened. Instinctively, she raised her arm to cover her head. With all the strength she could muster, Piper willed the chunk of timber not to hit her friend. Amazingly, it halted mid-air. Piper expelled a breath of relief and compelled it to fall a safe distance away.

  Maddie peeked out from under her arm. “H-how did you do that?” she asked.

  “Do what?”

  “Don’t act the innocent. You saved my life. I saw you.”

  Piper bit her lip as she considered lying, but she couldn’t do it; not to Maddie. “I guess we should talk.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  ALTHOUGH MADDIE AGREED TO WAIT until they were in the dry to hear Piper’s explanation, it didn’t stop her from sneaking sideways glances at her on their way back to the stable block. As they rubbed down the horses, Piper sensed her agitation and threw her brush aside. She’d made her wait long enough. “Okay. I’ll just come out and say it. Turns out... I’m a witch.”

  “What kind?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “What kind: hearth, hedge, black, white, green? Please don’t say black or we won’t be able to be friends anymore.”

  Of all the possible reactions Maddie could have had—disbelief, shock, mockery even—her actual response would not have made it onto Piper’s list. She stared, open-mouthed, before finding her voice. “What the blue blazes was that?”

  “A serious question.”

  “A strange one, in my book, unless...” She narrowed her eyes as she remembered Sebastian’s words. “What are you?”

  Maddie turned and continued to smooth her horse’s hair. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Piper took hold of her shoulders and forced her to face her. “Sure you do. Fess up.”

  “I could get fired.”

  “From what?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t say.”

  “Maddie?”

  “Hey, don’t look at me like I’m the only one with secrets.”

  “One difference. I only found out what I was yesterday. How about you?”

  Averting her eyes from Piper’s stare, Maddie said softly. “I’ve always known.”

  Piper blew a puff of air down her nose. “So you’ve been lying to me,” she said, turning on her heel and storming from the stall.

  “I had to,” Maddie called, securing the door Piper had left swinging on its hinges, and following. “Please don’t think badly of me.”

  “Give me one reason not to.”

  “I’m your protector.”

  Piper had already crossed the yard when she stopped and spun on her heel. “I don’t need a protector.”

  “That’s what I thought at first. You see, pretty much everyone does their practice on humans, and they said you were my initiation.”

  “Who did?”

  “My parents. Look, maybe protector was the wrong word. How about watcher?”

  “You spy on me?”

  “Um... guardian angel?”

  “Are you saying you’re an angel?”

  “No.”

  “Then what are you?”

  “A Pentula,” she said with a smile.

  “A pen what?”

  “Tula.”

  “Which is...?”

  “A form of shape-shifter.”

  Piper turned to continue under the arch. “Shape-shifter? What kind—something really badass, I hope,” she said as she spotted the green coils of a small snake at her feet. “Ugh,” she said, compelling it into the air and flinging it aside. “I hate snakes.” She watched it slam against the wall and land in the long grass below, satisfied she was really getting the hang of this levitation stuff, before pivoting to Maddie for her answer. But Maddie was nowhere to be seen. Piper blinked, unable to comprehend where she had gone. She couldn’t have passed her; she would have seen. When she turned back, Maddie was sitting in the grass, rubbing her head.

  “I’ll remember that,” she said.

  “Oh my god, you were the—?”

  “Snake. Yes,” Maddie said, standing up and attempting to brush the sludge from her jeans.

  “But that thing was tiny. How is it... you... supposed to protect me?”

  “I thought I’d start small, so as not to scare you, but I have different types,” she said. “What about this one?”

  In the blink of an eye, Maddie’s human form shrank and rose back up in a giant coil of dark scales. Evil eyes glinted from the huge head towering over Piper, which opened its jaws wide to reveal a deadly set of fangs.

  “Okay. I get it,” Piper said nervously. “Just stop doing that.”

  The snake disappeared as her friend re-emerged.

  “Sorry,” Maddie said. “Was that too much?”

  “A little. Come inside. I can’t have you going home covered in mud.”

  *****

  “Why me?” Piper asked as she passed Maddie a towel and a clean pair of jeans.

  “I don’t know. Initiations are usually pretty standard—pick someone of the same age suffering from something such as sibling rivalry, the school bully picking on them; you know, real simple stuff to start with. The idea is to keep an eye on your subject, nothing intrusive. Just try to spot trouble approaching and figure out a way to prevent it, if you can. We’re supposed to hone our instincts and develop our problem solving. I thought I was being let off easily as we were already friends and you were perfectly happy, but then that thing happened with your dad, and I started to wonder if my assignment had been pre-planned.”

  “And had it?”

  “My parents swear not, but you have to admit it’s a bit of a coincidence.”

  “Is that why you stuck by me when no one else did?”

  “Do you really think that little of our friendship? We’ve been friends since we were twelve.”

  “Yes, we have. That’s why I can’t believe you never said anything.”

  “I couldn’t. The main S
upe rule is to keep our—”

  “Existence hidden from humans. Yeah, I heard.”

  “You did? Yeah, of course you did. Anyway, I thought it would only be a short while before I was moved on to a Supe assignment, and I wouldn’t feel so bad about keeping stuff from you. I figure I can cross that one off my experience list now. But enough about me. Tell me what’s been happening with you.”

  “In a professional capacity?”

  “As a friend.”

  “How long have you got?”

  Over the following hour, Piper brought Maddie up to date, right up until the latest letters, which she’d been dying to read since she’d had to abandon them earlier that day.

  “Go on, then. You might as well read them out loud,” Maddie urged.

  Piper picked up the next one and recited the words.

  Dear Rodigan,

  I apologise if my news brings you anguish, but I have afforded my situation much thought and have come to the conclusion that I must do what is best for our son. It is hard for a woman alone, and as much as I crave for it to be you at my side, Bertie needs a man’s influence and guidance.

  Therefore, I have accepted Prago’s proposal of marriage. He has been good to us, and he professes to love me, even though that love is not returned. My heart will always be yours, but I am fond of Prago and will be the best wife to him my heart allows. We will have a good home and a steady income.

  You have to understand that Bertie will have a far better life as a teacher’s son than he would as a kitchen maid’s. His abilities are already far beyond his fourteen years, and I have great hopes that he may be able to reach higher than the Third Order for a profession.

  L.

  “Hmm,” Maddie said. “What does the last one say?”

  Dear Rodigan,

  I don’t know how to tell you this, therefore I shall be frank.

  I am dying, and it saddens me beyond belief that I may never see your face again. But I could not leave this world without our son knowing the truth about his father. I told him everything. He went to the king to ask for permission to visit you. When he was turned down, he became insistent, saying he would leave, regardless.

  It pains me to tell you he has been taken from me to suffer the Genicerem as if he had committed high treason. I would never have believed it of the king. I had always thought him a better man than his father. We both know Bertie should not have been awarded such a fate. Wishing to find his father does not deserve the same punishment as the enemies of the Crown.

  Oh, Roddy, I cannot begin to understand the torment of his ordeal. He is all alone, and I am at my wits’ end as to what to do. It is my own fault, I know. I have pleaded to our new queen to beg the king to show mercy, and she has promised to do all she can, but I fear it will not be enough. I pray you will return soon before his light is extinguished.

  L.

  Maddie wiped a tear from her eye. “How sad? Did you bring the other letters with you?”

  “I have them right here,” Piper said, retrieving them from the nightstand.

  “Can you put them in order?”

  “What for?

  “I want to read the whole story,” she pouted, “to get a better picture.”

  Piper laid all the letters out on the bed and shuffled them into position. Having found them all in different places at different times, she’d never really considered slotting them into a timeline before, but Maddie was right. They went through Lambert’s life from baby to teenager. She placed the letter from the queen at the end and waited for Maddie to read them.

  “He sounds like a bit of a bad boy, this Bertie. Is he cute?”

  “Um... I’ve never thought about it,” Piper lied as she watched Maddie’s eyebrows raise. “For a convict who dresses like someone from a history book, talks weird, and needs a good bath, I suppose so, but that’s not the point.”

  Maddie wrinkled her nose. “And you say he’s in that box over there?”

  “Yes, and I have to get him out.”

  “Have you tried using your magic?”

  “Actually, no. Do you think I should?”

  “It’s worth a shot, isn’t it?”

  Piper thought back to when Beth had opened the door at the potter’s house. She hadn’t used any words; she’d simply stared at the lock, just like she did herself when she compelled objects to move. Was it really that easy? If she could control a large tree limb, surely she could move a few small pieces of metal.

  Focusing on the lock as she walked to the box and lifted it up, she imagined the inner mechanism clicking into position, then pulled on the lid to see if it had worked. The box held fast. So much for that idea.

  “I guess it’s not that easy,” Maddie said, glancing at the light dimming in the still grey sky outside. “But look on the bright side: from what you say, lover boy will be back in your bedroom any time now.”

  “Don’t call him that. He’s just a...” Friend? Was that what she was about to say? Was that what he was now? “We share a... bond.”

  “A bond, right. Whatever you say,” Maddie said with a knowing look. “Well I’d love to stay and meet him, but I’d better be getting home. Tell him I said hi.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  AFTER SAYING GOODBYE TO Maddie, Piper sat on her bed and waited for Lambert to materialise. As she watched the box, she clicked her ankles together and drummed her fingers against her mouth, wondering why he hadn’t appeared yet. Her chest tightened at the possibility that he might not be able to visit her anymore. In the corner of her vision, the window had darkened to charcoal. Night was descending, and her stomach was grumbling for food. She willed Lambert to present himself before the dinner gong reverberated through the floor again. She had so much to tell him this time, but the more she stared at the wooden casing, the more distant it became. He wasn’t coming. Her heart sank as she got up and walked to the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  Piper whirled around to see Lambert standing in the middle of the room. “You took your time,” she said gruffly.

  “You speak as if I had a choice in the matter,” he said through a boyish grin.

  “You’re an ass. You know that?”

  His eyebrows shot up. “A strange turn of phrase spoken venomously. Not an unusual occurrence from you, I realise, and yet I am unable to deduce the meaning.”

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s just that a lot has happened since we last spoke, and I’ve been waiting ages to tell you.”

  “Forgive me,” he said, pulling the dressing table stool from its retreat and sitting down. “Please, go ahead. I am eager to hear you speak.”

  His shirt dipped as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, exposing a small patch of hair below the hollow of his neck. Piper brushed away a question forming in her mind and diverted her eyes. She had no time for distractions. “Well, for starters, I’ve decided that my dad knows your dad.”

  “And you arrived at this conclusion...?”

  “A sorceress performed a locator spell and found my father in Chimmeris. It’s also highly probable that is where he was born.” Lambert’s eyes widened in an I-told-so way, but Piper ignored him and continued. “Obviously, being here on a secret mission, your father needs to keep his identity a secret, and I think my father was helping him to do that. That’s why he was looking after the letters.”

  “And yet your father abandoned mine to return to Chimmeris?”

  “Maybe they returned together?”

  “Which would beg the question: if my father is now at home, why am I... here?”

  “Um... miscommunication. Your friend wasn’t aware they were on their way back, when he brought you.”

  He bowed his head, nodding before looking back up. “One small problem. You stated your father has been gone for over six months, and although I have read that the journey between dimensions is arduous, I do not believe it to be such a prolonged one.”

  He had a point. The timescale did discount her theory. “
It was just a thought,” she said, sitting opposite him on the end of the bed. “Have you got any better ideas?”

  “None. I have been rather too preoccupied with thoughts of my key.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that, too.”

  “Another implausible theory, or one with actual merit?” he asked, talking to her legs in a way Piper found extremely unnerving. Just because she was wearing denim and not some sort of suede trousers in goodness knows what kind of out-of-date style, he didn’t have to stare.

  “Possible alternatives,” she said.

  “There are no alternatives. All prison boxes are enchanted with a protection spell which cannot be broken.”

  “I suppose that makes sense in a land of witchcraft; otherwise prisoners would be escaping all the time.”

  “Not by their own hand. The Genicerem extracts a man’s magic from his body and entombs it within the box’s casing. The enchantment is to ensure no outside assistance.”

  “That explains a lot.” His eyes met hers as he looked up with a frown. “I tried to open the lock with magic,” she explained.

  “You used magic?”

  “Tried to. I wasn’t sure if I was doing it right, but now I know it wouldn’t have worked even if I had been.”

  “I was unaware you possessed the capability.”

  “Me too, until yesterday, but apparently we have lineage in common along with paternal absence.”

  Lambert’s head angled as he traced her outline with his eyes. “And yet, we are not alike. I would have known immediately from your aura if we were.”

  “You can see those?”

  “When I focus, yes.”

  “Even without magic?”

  “There is no magic involved. It is an ability. Some have it; some do not.”

  “But if we are both...”

  “Chimmerians.”

  “Yes. How are we not the same?”

  “It is indeed a puzzle.” His eyes locked onto hers, exposing the pain behind their brilliant hue.

  “You really have no magic?”

  “None whatsoever.” He forced a small smile. “I cannot even conjure a simple pack of cards to occupy my time.”