by Ally Carter
Smithers swept in then. Literally. He had a broom and dustpan and started cleaning away the broken glass.
‘Another window gone,’ he said to no one in particular.
‘The Sentinel broke it,’ Violet said as Tim picked her up and carried her away from the broken glass, placing her on her bed.
Ms Nelson knelt down in front of her. ‘No, sweetheart. It’s OK. These old windows just break sometimes if the temperature drops too quickly and the rain and wind are—’
‘My bed!’ Sadie cried as she rushed to where her velvet hangings were strewn across the floor. One of the ropes had run through the pulleys and got wrapped around the ceiling fan that was spinning in the wind. April’s own bed was a mess of blankets and pillows and bed curtains, everything twisted and broken and torn.
‘I’m sorry, Sadie,’ Ms Nelson said. ‘The wind must have—’
‘It wasn’t the wind,’ Violet said, stronger now. ‘It was the Sentinel.’
‘No, sweetheart.’ Ms Nelson ran a hand through Violet’s damp hair. ‘I know that must have been awfully scary, but the wind just pulled the curtains and they got tangled in the ropes and it caused a chain reaction. It wasn’t the Sentinel, sweetheart. I promise. The Sentinel isn’t real.’
But Violet just looked up at April, as if it was going to have to be their little secret.
Eventually, Smithers covered the window with plywood and the girls moved to another room – all three of them piled into the biggest bed that April had ever seen, but April lay in the darkness until the storm was just a rumble in the distance.
Ms Nelson was right: the Sentinel wasn’t real. But there was another knife-wielding madman of April’s acquaintance.
And he had a lot of explaining to do.
THE WEIGHT OF WHAT’S NOT THERE
It was too hot. At first, April thought she was back in the fire, flames bearing down on her from all directions. But the air was clean, and her eyes didn’t burn. And she was pretty sure someone was trying to shove an elbow up her nose. And someone else was shoving a knee through her back. But it was the thing April didn’t feel that scared her.
She bolted upright in bed and looked down at her clenched fist – at the place where her key was supposed to be. And she remembered the broken chain and the storm – the broken window, the man. And the knife.
‘Where’s your key?’ Violet pointed to April’s neck, and April knew why her fist was empty.
‘No,’ she said, throwing off the covers and running down the hall.
Plywood covered the window and the broken glass was gone, but the bedroom still looked like it had been in a storm. Covers were askew. Bed curtains hung at odd angles, and everything was soggy. Pieces of Sadie’s inventions were scattered all over the room, blown by the wind and the rain. But none of that mattered to April.
She ran to her own bed and ransacked the sheets and blankets. She tossed aside the pillows. She looked under the bed and on the dresser, beneath the pile of dirty clothes that hadn’t made it into the hamper and inside her emergency jar of peanut butter that even Smithers didn’t know about.
April looked everywhere.
But April already knew.
Her key was missing. No. Not missing. Because, in her heart, April knew exactly where it was.
She remembered taking it off in the cellar. She remembered showing it to Gabriel Winterborne. She remembered the broken chain and how she’d set it aside to fix in the morning. And then she remembered the storm. And the knife.
‘April?’ Sadie said from the doorway, Violet beside her. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing’s wrong.’ (Something was wrong.) ‘I’m fine.’ (She wasn’t fine.)
‘I think something is wrong,’ Sadie said, because Sadie was a scientist, descended from a long line of scientists. Observation was in her blood.
‘No. It’s … I just lost—’
‘Your key’s gone!’
April hadn’t even realised that Sadie knew about her key. She tried to keep it tucked away, hidden. Because in April’s experience, the only way to keep something safe was to keep it secret. But Sadie had noticed. Because Sadie wasn’t just a scientist. She was also a friend.
But April had never really had one of those before, so she blurted, ‘It’s no big deal.’ (It was a big deal.)
‘We’ll help you look for it,’ Sadie offered. ‘I’ve been meaning to experiment with—’
‘No!’ April didn’t mean to snap. She certainly didn’t mean to make Sadie’s eyes get all big and weepy. ‘Really, Sadie. It’s OK. I’ll find it,’ April said, because in that moment, it was the one thing she was sure of. ‘I know exactly where to look.’
It wasn’t until Sadie was halfway down the hall that Violet asked, ‘The Sentinel took it, didn’t he?’
‘Yes,’ April said.
‘Are you afraid of him?’
‘No.’ April took Violet’s hand. ‘He needs to be afraid of me.’
April had a secret. And a problem. She’d thought and worried and wondered most of the day until, finally, she sat perfectly still while Colin stood on top of a chair at the kitchen table, one of Smithers’s black coats around his shoulders like a cape.
‘And then the Sentinel swooped down …’ He jumped off the chair and ran around the room. ‘Like a … thing that swoops. Breaking through the window like the storm. Sword drawn!’
A long French baguette came out from underneath Colin’s coat/cape, and he brandished it with a flourish.
‘And he crept through the room like a … thing that creeps. Searching for vengeance and … little girls!’ he whispered to Violet.
Tim tensed and Sadie held her breath, but Violet actually laughed. Maybe because the sun was still out and the kitchen was warm and they’d been listening to Colin’s tale of adventure all day long, hearing it get more and more absurd with every telling, and now no one knew where the truth stopped and Colin’s story began.
No one, that was, except April.
April knew way, way, way too much.
She’d seen the man. And the knife. And the look in Gabriel Winterborne’s eyes when she’d shown him her mother’s key. Then a few hours later, he’d snuck into her room, and now the key was gone? April didn’t believe in coincidence. Bad luck? Yes. That she knew like the back of her hand. But coincidence? Never.
So April was very quiet and very still as she sat there trying to decide what to do.
Part of her wanted to call up Uncle Evert and claim her five million dollars.
Part of her wanted to cry because her key was gone and the only person she’d ever asked for help had taken it.
And part of her just wanted to storm the cellar and take back what was hers from that knife-wielding madman, but …
Knife. Wielding. Madman.
So April didn’t do anything except sit. And think. And try to figure out what Gabriel Winterborne was up to.
After all, he could have killed them last night while they slept.
But he didn’t.
He could have struck her down in that dirty, empty cellar and tossed her body over the cliffs before anyone even realised she was missing.
But he hadn’t.
He could have let her burn to a crisp that night in the museum and taken her key for himself, but instead he’d put it back around her neck and carried her to safety.
And April couldn’t stop asking one question: Why?
‘April, what’s wrong?’ Ms Nelson was looking at April’s plate that was still mostly full of a dish Colin called Smithers Surprise but was really just pasta with meat and cheese and sauce all baked together until it was gooey and delicious. There had been a time when April might have dreamed of such a thing, but now …
‘I’m not hungry.’
Every single one of them stopped eating.
‘I’ll call Dr Andrews.’ Smithers pushed away from the table.
‘No!’ April looked around. ‘I’m OK.’ But April wasn’t OK, and more than anything she was terri
fied that everyone would see it. ‘I’m just … tired. I didn’t sleep so well.’
‘It’s because of the Sentinel,’ Violet said.
‘Sweetheart.’ Ms Nelson leaned close to Violet. ‘I know last night was scary, but the Sentinel isn’t real. It wasn’t him.’
‘But—’
‘It was Gabriel Winterborne.’
And just like that, they all turned and looked at April like she was crazy. And April knew what she had to do.
‘He’s back,’ she said, decision made. ‘And he’s been sneaking around at night, and—’
‘April—’ Ms Nelson started in a tone that April knew too well.
‘It’s true! He’s the one who broke the vase. He was in our room last night, and—’
‘April, I told you, the wind—’
‘It was Gabriel Winterborne! I’m not joking! Here. I’ll show you!’
By that point, April wasn’t actually thinking. It was like her feet had a mind of their own and April was along for the ride as she led the procession from the kitchen and through the halls to the room with the stone fireplace.
‘You’ll see. He’s down here,’ she said, taking hold of the fireplace poker and pulling and … falling right on her hind end, the poker still in her hand. For a second she just lay there, staring at it. ‘No. That’s not right.’ She got up and went to the fireplace again, tried to put the poker back in the holder, but that didn’t work. Then she started kicking the stone.
‘It opens,’ she said. ‘I swear. It’s a secret passageway.’
‘Uh, April …’ Sadie started slowly.
‘It’s a secret passageway! I’m not making it up!’ She could feel the draught coming through the gaps in the stones. She could see the ashes blowing across the floor. ‘Look! Feel the wind? See that dust moving? That’s because this fireplace opens and Gabriel Winterborne is down there!’ She pulled and twisted and pried, but the fireplace didn’t budge.
‘Sweetheart.’ Ms Nelson leaned down and grabbed April’s hands, stopping her frantic movements and forcing April to look into her eyes. ‘I know it would be worth a lot of money to find him, but—’
‘I’m not doing it for the money! I’m doing it because …’ Everyone was staring at her. Some looked at April like she was crazy, and some looked at her like she was pitiful, but absolutely no one looked at her like she was telling the truth.
‘Miss April is absolutely right,’ Smithers said at last, and April couldn’t help herself.
She cried, ‘I am?’
‘Indeed. There is a secret passageway behind this fireplace. You were very smart to find it.’
‘See! He’s—’
‘But it’s been closed up for decades, April,’ Smithers went on, cutting her off. ‘It’s not safe, and no one is down there. Certainly not Gabriel Winterborne.’
‘But he’s back,’ April said again. ‘I’ve seen him! I talked to him! I—’
‘Stop!’ Ms Nelson wasn’t smiling any more. Her eyes weren’t kind, and her words weren’t soft as she warned, ‘I told you, April. We can tolerate a lot in this house, but not lying.’ She swallowed hard. Her voice cracked. ‘Especially about him.’
Then Ms Nelson walked away – from the passageway and April and the secret she’d been carrying for days just to have it tossed back in her face like a piece of useless garbage.
‘April?’ Sadie’s voice was just a whisper. ‘I’ve been planning a surprise. You can help me with it if you want to?’
‘No thanks, Sadie.’
‘Really. It’s not a SadieMatic – I promise.’ Sadie laughed a little. ‘It’ll be fun. Please. I …’
Sadie looked at Colin for help, but he just said, ‘She didn’t mean it.’ April didn’t have to ask him who he meant. ‘Everybody’s got a thing, you know? Something that hurts real bad if you press on it. He’s hers. That’s all. She wasn’t mad you were wrong. She was mad at herself for wishing you were right.’
Tim and Violet were already out the door. Smithers was gone, doing whatever it was that Smithers did. Then Colin and Sadie walked away, their footsteps echoing down the hallway, until it was just April and the stones and the wind whistling through the gaps, and she couldn’t hold her anger back any longer.
‘I know what you did!’ she shouted.
Maybe she really was going crazy because she had the distinct impression that the stones laughed back. So April pushed against them, yelling louder. ‘You didn’t have to steal it! I would have given it to you. I would have trusted you! I would have—’
But then April couldn’t yell any more because the fireplace was moving and April was falling through the air, tumbling into the darkness.
And on to the floor.
At the feet of a man that maybe she didn’t want to find after all.
WHAT YOU DON’T WANT IN A
KNIFE-WIELDING MADMAN
‘Oh, April. What am I going to do with you?’
Gabriel Winterborne sounded the same, but he looked different. His hair was still long and his clothes were still ragged, but his eyes were clearer and he moved with purpose, which, April realised, wasn’t what you wanted in a knife-wielding madman.
She scrambled back but heard the scrape of the fireplace slamming closed behind her. There was nothing but the cold draught and the dripping water and the man she’d last seen with a knife at four a.m.
But the weird thing was that April still didn’t have the good sense to be afraid. Nope. She was way too busy being angry.
‘You didn’t have to steal it.’
He cocked an eyebrow and actually grinned. ‘Steal what?’
‘I came to you for help, and you broke into our room! You scared Violet! She’s just a little girl.’
‘Oh, she’s a little girl?’
‘Don’t try to deny it,’ she snapped. ‘I saw you. I saw the knife.’
And just like that, his expression changed, like it had never occurred to him that he might actually get caught.
So April added for good measure, ‘I know you took my key. Don’t tell me it was the wind or whatever. The wind didn’t break that window—’
‘It’s an old house, April. Old houses are draughty,’ he said, but he couldn’t look her in the eye.
‘I suppose the bed hangings ripped themselves?’
He glared. ‘Is that why you decided to turn on me?’
‘I didn’t turn on you! You broke into my room and stole my key and … I know what goes bump in the night.’ She looked him up and down. ‘And I know where he lives.’
He slumped against the wall and whispered, ‘So do I, April. So do I.’
April had seen him dirty and hungry and tired and bleeding, but she’d never seen him look like that – like he’d just skipped to the last chapter and found out he wasn’t ever going to get a happy ending. She might have even felt sorry for him, except …
‘I want my key,’ she said again, because he might have been a knife-wielding madman, but without that key, April wasn’t anything at all.
But he just shook his head. ‘Get out.’
‘I’m not leaving without my mother’s key! I’m—’
‘You’re going to leave.’ He pushed away from the wall.
‘You’re going to walk away, and I’m going to board up this entrance, and you will never come back here again. You will never bring … her … back here, do you hear me? As far as Isabella Nelson is concerned, I’m a dead man. And I’m going to stay that way if it kills me.’
Then she was upside down again, slung over his shoulder as the fireplace slid open. A split second later, she was falling back on to the floor, as if the last fourteen hours hadn’t happened at all.
But they had happened.
April reached for her key, but it was still missing, and the stones weren’t laughing any more.
Smithers must not have been doing a very good job of dusting, because her throat burned and her eyes watered. April wanted to wipe the tears away, even though she absolutely was not crying. S
he was just walking and thinking and making a plan, because she’d wasted enough time already.
She’d get her key back. She had to. But in the meantime, she’d start looking for the lock. She’d start right then – that very moment. She’d start on the first floor and work her way up. Room by room. Wall by wall. Shelf by shelf.
April had made it twelve years without any help from anyone, and the thing that made her maddest was that she’d let herself forget it. Well, she wasn’t going to forget it ever again.
So April got to work.
She looked in stuffy rooms with cold fireplaces and the kind of furniture you should never put your feet on. And she searched in bathrooms with soft towels and soap that smelled like flowers. She spent twenty minutes poking an old piano and five trying to open a cabinet that held nothing but dusty board games and about a dozen decks of cards.
April searched and scoured and hunted until she reached a wide corridor that ran along the back of the house, and then April had to stop. And look. And think. Because parts of the wall were lighter than other parts, and something just seemed … off about the space.
‘Don’t mind that,’ came a voice from behind her, and April turned to find Colin there, studying her as she studied the wall.
‘What?’ April asked.
‘Those spots on the wall. You’re not imagining them. That’s where the paintings were.’
‘What paintings?’ April asked, even though she was pretty sure she already knew the answer.
‘The ones that burned up in the museum. You heard about the museum, didn’t you?’
‘Yeah,’ April muttered. ‘I heard about that.’
Suddenly, April’s skin felt too hot – like she was back in the fire. Because Colin wasn’t just looking at her – he was seeing her, and April didn’t like it one bit. And when he asked, ‘You OK, April?’ she honestly didn’t know what to say, because he’d known when the Fake Fiancée was lying, but he hadn’t known when April was telling the truth.
Or maybe he just hadn’t cared.
