Bring Me the Head of Ivy Pocket

by Caleb Krisp

“Is she . . .” Rebecca did not seem to have the words to finish the question.

  Miss Frost nodded, and put her hand over my wound to quell the bleeding. “There will be no more falling down stairs or leaping into fires. Miss Pocket can now be hurt like anyone else from your world.”

  I looked squarely at Miss Frost. “The dead woman you found me with all those years ago—she was McCloud, the Dumblebys’ maid.”

  If my declaration stunned her, she did not show it. Perhaps she had already guessed that the truth was dawning on me. “I think so,” she replied.

  “Who is McCloud?” said Rebecca.

  “Miss Butterfield, would you be so kind as to fetch some more water?” said Miss Frost.

  Rebecca took the hint and scrammed. When she was gone, Miss Frost stood up, her arms folded. “I didn’t know it at the time, of course,” she said calmly. “I believed I was on the trail of Anastasia and her child and was rather disappointed when I came upon you and McCloud. You wouldn’t speak, but I found a note in the pocket of your dress. It had the name Ivy scrawled on it. When I took you to the orphanage and they asked for a name, I gave it as Ivy Pocket. As for Anastasia, I just assumed my information had been wrong. Until . . .”

  “Until I told you that the Dumblebys had given Anastasia’s baby to McCloud.”

  “Yes.” Her voice had softened. “If I had only known . . .”

  “So I am her daughter?”

  “Anastasia Radcliff?” Miss Frost took a deep breath. “Yes, I believe you are—which explains a great deal about your bond with the Clock Diamond.”

  I felt a ripple of anger surge through me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I did try, Miss Pocket.” She turned to the window, the morning sun washing in. “The truth is, I feared you would do something foolish—such as returning to Lashwood in search of Anastasia. You might recall we had rather a lot to deal with at the time.”

  I had a mother. It didn’t seem real. Or true.

  “She didn’t know me,” I heard myself say. “I was with her, in the very same room, yet she didn’t know who I was.”

  “Anastasia survived by blocking out the real world and living inside her mind,” said Miss Frost. “She did not recognize you because she couldn’t see you. Not really.”

  “Perhaps she will never know,” I said faintly.

  “Actually, Miss Pocket, she already does.”

  I sat up in bed, looking thoroughly stunned. “Explain yourself!”

  “As you know, I ventured back to your world not long after you arrived in Prospa,” said Miss Frost. “I went to the cottage in Weymouth to check on you, and found Anastasia instead.”

  “And?”

  “While still deeply troubled, her mind was beginning to clear—despite the great torment she suffered, I believe that we with Prosparian blood recover more swiftly than those from your world.”

  “And?” I said again, barely able to contain myself.

  “I told her what I believed to be true. That you were her daughter.”

  “Did she . . . did she say anything?”

  Miss Frost paused for a moment. Touched her chin. “She wept, Miss Pocket. She wept.”

  I leaped up. Fished the Clock Diamond from under my dress. “I must go to her at once. Have a family reunion and whatnot.”

  Rebecca returned with a jug of water, placing it on the bedside table.

  “Rebecca, dear, I suggest you jump on my back like a bear cub clutching its mother. For we are about to return home.”

  “That won’t be possible.” Miss Frost pointed to the stone. “Take a closer look, Miss Pocket.”

  I did as she said. And what I saw was a very different diamond—the stone was splintered inside, and black as night. “Is it . . . ?”

  “Destroyed? Quite so.” And despite my shock, my sorrow, I saw the melancholy flickering in Miss Frost’s eyes. As Mistress of the Clock, her very life had been the stone and its grim work. “The mere fact that you have the blood of our two worlds in your veins explains your rare connection to the stone. But the force that brought your two halves back together was more than the Clock Diamond could take. Its magic is gone, Miss Pocket.”

  “And so is its curse,” whispered Rebecca.

  I thought then of Justice Hallow’s words about dark magic in the kingdom of Prospa. “Is it true that the Shadow was caused by dark magic?”

  “Perhaps.” Miss Frost rubbed her brow, looking thoroughly exhausted. “Several centuries ago, the Queen’s daughter used a magi’s curse to kill her mother—the magic summoned was dark indeed, and took the Queen’s life within hours. When she was found, her body was utterly gray. Her ashen skin looked as if a shadow were passing overhead.”

  “That is how the Shadow started?”

  “Many believe so,” said Miss Frost. “The curse had great power, great wrath, and it did not stop at the Queen. It quickly spread throughout the castle and then the kingdom.” She cleared her throat. “After that, all magis and their kin were slaughtered, and magic banished from the realm—but by then it was too late.”

  I thought of the man I had seen from the train, looking down at the patch of gray on his skin. And the faces of the sick at Prospa House. “Was there no way to stop the curse?”

  “The best minds in Prospa tried everything to defeat it,” said Miss Frost faintly, “but nothing worked. We still do not understand how people are infected. The Shadow does its work without detection, infecting all but those who are immune from its deadly grasp.”

  Which raised an interesting question. “Does that mean you are immune?”

  “So it would seem.” Miss Frost closed her eyes briefly. “Immunity is an inexact science, Miss Pocket. Survival is the proof, showing itself when a person remains healthy even as their entire family or village is infected.”

  “Is . . . is that what happened to you, dear?”

  “Correct.” She folded her arms. “Aside from the Shadow, the portal is all that remains from that time. It was created by the Queen’s sorcerer after Her Majesty grew bored with palace life and demanded access to other worlds. Prospa House used to be the royal palace, so the portal was brought to life under the Queen’s private chambers. But it proved something of a disappointment. The poor fools sent to test it were destroyed in the void. All that came back were a few severed limbs and a head.”

  “How wondrously awful!” I declared.

  “Once the Shadow began to spread, the first Chief Justice ordered the portal be destroyed, along with every other vestige of magic in Prospa. Luckily, a brilliant professor by the name of Peggotty Spring urged her to reconsider. She had unearthed a rather exceptional diamond in the deserts of the northern border, which she believed had the necessary power to get her from our world into yours.”

  “The Clock Diamond,” I said.

  Miss Frost nodded. “Professor Spring hoped to find a cure for the Shadow in your world. She was granted permission to experiment with the portal, and the rest is history. Once the Chief Justice learned what the stone could do, she created the roles of gatekeeper and Mistress of the Clock to ensure the necklace could do its important work.”

  “Stealing souls,” I said with a satisfying scowl.

  “My role was to monitor the Clock Diamond’s use and ensure its survival, so that some of my people might be saved from the Shadow,” said Miss Frost rather crossly. “It fell to Miss Always, as gatekeeper, to bring a steady stream of remedies through the gate. But over the years, Miss Always discarded the rules governing the stone—she did not want to limit herself to capturing the souls of the dying and the elderly. In fact, she began to see herself as the natural leader of Prospa, using her role to undermine Justice Hallow. As such, she fell afoul of your grandmother and was declared an enemy of the kingdom.”

  “I don’t think Granny’s very fond of you either, dear,” I said helpfully.

  Miss Frost huffed. “Justice Hallow is as corrupt as she is devious. I saw how she was profiting from the Shadow—selling acces
s to the remedies among the rich and powerful. I told her that if she didn’t stop, I would do it for her.” The redheaded warrior shrugged. “She didn’t like that very much, and sent an army of her guards to assassinate me. Fortunately, the portal’s blood gave me the ability to fell those bloodthirsty goons.”

  “Doesn’t that make you some kind of witch?” I shook my head knowingly. “I’m almost certain it does—you have the hideous clothes, the foul temper, the whiskers.”

  Miss Frost bristled. Her nostrils flared. Things might have gotten physical if one of her associates hadn’t come to the door with a note—which Miss Frost read, then slipped into her pocket. I thought of how much sorrow and pain that stone had caused. But I also knew that it was a symbol of hope for the people of Prospa—the only chance those suffering from the Shadow had of surviving. And now it was gone.

  “I’m not sorry the Clock Diamond will never steal another soul,” I said, walking over to Miss Frost, “but if there is any way that I might be what Miss Always thinks I am—that I might be able to stop the Shadow for good, then—”

  “I believe in facts,” said Miss Frost coolly, “not myths. And the facts are that the Clock Diamond is no more, which means your only hope of getting home is the portal.”

  “But the portal is dying,” said Rebecca.

  “Which is why we must find a way to get Miss Pocket to it before it shuts down completely—though I fear the crossing will be rather treacherous.” Miss Frost looked at her watch. “The note I received was from my informant at Prospa House. He tells me that Justice Hallow was seen heading down to the underground chamber around midnight last evening. If she poisoned the portal at that time, then I believe we have less than four hours until it closes.”

  Which was a shocking thought. If I couldn’t return to my world, how would I ever be reunited with my mother? Which led to another shocking thought.

  “Justice Hallow is my grandmother!” I said, spinning around. “It’s true that she seems slightly malicious, but I’m certain that would change once she knew that I was her very own flesh and blood!”

  “You are quite wrong,” snapped Miss Frost. “Justice Hallow does not entertain tender feelings, not for anyone. While I cannot know for certain why she has poisoned the portal—the remedies are her source of power, so it is most odd—it does speak of a desperate woman. And desperate people are not to be trusted.”

  “Miss Frost is right, Ivy,” said Rebecca. “When I first arrived at Prospa House, Justice Hallow visited my cell and asked many questions about the Clock Diamond. She seemed to know that you had worn the stone, and I could see how desperate she was to learn more about you.” Rebecca shook her head. “I didn’t break, Ivy. I told her nothing.”

  I smiled warmly. “Well done, dear.”

  But that did not prove that Justice Hallow knew I was her own flesh and blood. Perhaps dear Granny was a touch ruthless. But then, her daughter had run away to another world and left her alone. It made sense that her heart had shriveled like a raisin. But once she learned who I was, all that would change. Her heart would melt, her eyes would water, and we would embrace like two explorers lost in a blizzard.

  “Granny just needs to know the truth,” I said brightly. “Then she’ll gladly let Rebecca and me return home before the portal dies.”

  “Do you think so?” said Rebecca hopefully. “Oh, do you really think—”

  “Don’t be foolish,” said Miss Frost most cruelly. “I suspect Justice Hallow knows exactly who Miss Pocket is. We must find a way to reach the portal without detection. This will take some thinking.”

  “Where is the lavatory?” I asked, heading for the door. “If I wasn’t such an upstanding girl, with my very own lodgings in Berkeley Square, I’d tell you that I’m positively bursting.”

  Miss Frost’s sigh was full of reproach. “It is downstairs, past the kitchen.”

  There were four of Miss Frost’s associates milling about downstairs, a pair each guarding the back and front doors. So I darted into a small library off the sitting room and climbed out the window—bound for Prospa House.

  17

  Escaping is a tricky business. Which is why I was cowering behind a rather unruly shrub, cursing Miss Frost. For the outside of her house was as heavily guarded as the inside. I had jumped from the window and landed among a wall of bushes. Quickly spotting one of Miss Frost’s cronies, I ducked down. She passed by, then turned and walked the other way. So I darted out and crawled along the ground, hiding beside a barrow filled with turnips.

  I heard chatter. Then the sound of boots marching back toward me. A few feet away was a maple tree with a rope ladder hanging from it. With few options—and no powers of invisibility—I dashed over and scurried up the ladder. At the top was a rather delightful tree house. All wood slats and rusty nails. I crawled in, heading for a small square cut into the wall opposite. My eye was drawn to a pair of initials carved into a heart—G.A. and E.F. But only briefly. I peered out and saw a horse and rider galloping into the yard. The woman wore the familiar brown pants and black coat. She tethered the horse to a branch right under me and jumped off, dashing into the house.

  When she was gone, and with the two foot soldiers deep in conversation down by the stable doors, I made my move. Climbed out the window. Found my footing on a thick bough. And jumped. I landed rather skillfully on the horse’s back. There was some buttock pain, I won’t lie. As I unthreaded the reins, I heard a great commotion coming from the house.

  “She cannot have gone far,” Miss Frost called out from one of the front windows. “Search high and low!”

  I tugged on the reins, and the horse galloped from the yard. We flew like the wind spiriting away from the house at great speed. The breeze untangled the braid from my hair, my locks billowing out behind me. It was a glorious getaway. Until I spotted four dark carriages charging along the road not thirty feet away. I recognized the drivers’ orange coats and shaved heads—Justice Hallow’s guards. And they were hurtling toward Miss Frost’s house.

  I quickly turned off the road and flew into the thick woodlands. I didn’t go back. There wasn’t time—the portal would be closed in just a few hours, and with it, any hope of seeing my mother again. I felt utterly certain that Miss Frost and her cronies would make short work of those Orange Coats. And besides, I was confident the whole silly business would be cleared up once Justice Hallow learned who I was. She would agree to let Rebecca and me return home.

  So I flicked the reins hard and galloped on.

  Prospa House was eerily quiet. Marvelously deserted. Hardly any guards about that I could see—though I felt certain they couldn’t all be at Miss Frost’s farmhouse getting pummeled. I had followed the train tracks all the way, jumping from the horse on the outskirts of the city—much better to go on foot, what with horses and wagons being forbidden during the day. When I reached the bridge, I circled around the back of Prospa House.

  A guard stalked about, hands behind his back. He appeared to be patrolling the entire perimeter, quickly vanishing around the corner. So I ran like the wind. Turned down the silver stone path surrounded by bloodred hedges. Flew past the plaque that read PROSPA HOUSE. Slipped inside the building, utterly unseen—having all the natural instincts of a foul odor.

  The place was empty. No maids milling about. No sign of any guards. The grand staircase loomed before me, so I charged up, heading for the first floor. That was where they had taken me after Rebecca and I were captured. While I couldn’t be certain, instinct told me that Justice Hallow’s quarters must be nearby. After all, she had kept the vial of poison in the cell where I was locked.

  At the top of the stairs was a large portrait of Justice Hallow looking frightfully regal, surrounded by an array of regimental flags. The hall split off, left and right. I chose the left. There were a great many doors. All were open, revealing a series of empty offices and a large library. All except for one. Which was terribly interesting. So I opened it and entered.

  The room was v
ast and airy. Lined with white bookcases. A large desk in the middle with a high leather chair. A fireplace of dark stone and the words VIGILANCE ALWAYS carved above it. At the far end were a set of large copper doors etched with hundreds of little Clock Diamonds. I walked over for a closer look, and as I did, I felt the ground tremble and shift beneath me. Just for a moment.

  The doors were rather glorious. On either side were tall windows. Looking out, I instantly recognized the vast terrace, the wide steps, the concourse leading down to the great lake, the Clock Diamond memorial. It was just as I had seen it from the train. Apart from a few differences.

  The first was a large platform sprouting up from the middle of the lake with a red throne upon it. The second was the great crowd milling about on the concourse and around the water’s edge. A great many were marked by the Shadow, their skin ashen and sickly. And the guards from Prospa House were shouting at the people and pointing in a rather fierce fashion.

  “You came back.”

  I jumped, startled. Turned around to see Justice Hallow standing in the doorway. She wore a plain brown dress. No jewelry or adornment.

  “Yes, dear,” I declared. “I had to, for I have the most fantastical news.”

  Justice Hallow walked toward me. Then, without a word, she reached for my throat. Her cool eyes sparkled when she felt the stone. She pulled it out. Looked at it, cracked and dark.

  “It is as I expected,” she said. “Why don’t we talk in my private quarters?”

  Which was a splendid idea! Justice Hallow led me through a door set into the bookcases. I followed her into a room that I instantly recognized. It was connected to the cell where I had been kept. Very simple. A few wooden chairs. A bed in the corner. A table and an oil lamp. A faded tapestry of the great lake on a wall.

  “This is your chamber?” I said.

  Justice Hallow looked about. “The people of Prospa do not expect their leader to live as a queen—she must be as humble and unassuming as a peasant.”