“There, there, Euphorbia, you know I don’t like to mention it. And I know how hard you try to immerse yourself in your work.”
“Only for his sake!” Miss Frost cried. “I swore to myself that I would honor Sir Malmsbury’s memory by continuing his work. It’s the least I can do after . . . after leaving him behind!” Another bout of high-pitched sobs followed, punctuated by soothing words from Dame Beckwith from which I gathered that Sir Malmsbury had been lost in the woods on a collecting expedition and that Miss Frost blamed herself. I wasn’t sure what was more surprising—that imperious Miss Frost blamed herself for anything or that Dame Beckwith was so indulgent. But after a few minutes her tone became firmer.
“Now, Euphorbia,” I heard her say,” I do understand your little trips to the Wing & Clover, but if I’m to continue paying your tab I must have a full account of who you meet there. Ava says she saw you with a man.”
“I’d never speak to a strange man without a proper introduction!”
“Not even after a few snifters of brandy?”
A spluttering sound erupted, followed by another sigh of springs and a low murmur. I only caught a few words—“not sure . . . a fine Madeira . . . no, I don’t think so . . .”—and then in reply to another query, her voice rose in agitation. “I can’t remember! All I remember is finding myself out on the street and then, luckily, Sarah Lehman came along and found a cab to take us back to Blythewood. I had a terrible headache.”
“It sounds as though you were mesmerized,” Dame Beckwith said.
It sounded to me as if Miss Frost might have simply drunk too much and once again Sarah had had to come to her rescue.
“Yes, I believe I was. It’s all a bit of a blur, but I do remember one thing he asked.”
“Yes?” Dame Beckwith asked. “Did he ask about Blythewood? Did he try to wrest from you the secrets of the Order?”
“No,” Miss Frost said. “He asked about Avaline. He said he knew her father.”
z o Z I waited to hear Dame Beckwith tell Miss Frost she must be mistaken—or that it must be a lie. Surely a soulless creature couldn’t be trusted. But instead I heard a flurry of furtive whispering, as if what they were saying was too awful to speak aloud even in the privacy of the headmistress’s office, and then footsteps approaching the door.
I fled. I couldn’t let them know I’d heard them talking about me or my father—my illegitimate father. The shame of it made my cheeks burn and hurried my steps back to the library. When I got there I found Helen and Daisy still seated at the table, joined now by Sarah and Nate, drinking tea. Hadn’t everybody had enough tea by now? I wondered irritably as I sat down.
“Did you find it?” Daisy asked.
“Find what?”
“My reticule!” she cried.
“Oh blast your silly reticule!” I snapped. “Do you think anyone cares about your letters from Mr. Appleby with everything else that’s going on?”
Daisy’s upper lip trembled. Sarah, Helen, and Nate stared at me. Finally Sarah patted Daisy’s hand and, looking at me strangely, said, “We’ll look for it tomorrow. We should get to work now. You’ve still got midterms in the morning. Miss Corey has volunteered the use of the library,” she explained to me. “Since clearly Nathan couldn’t study in your dormitory room and we thought that you might be besieged by questions in the Commons Room.”
“I thought you didn’t care about passing your midterms,” I said to Nathan.
“I do now,” he told me, winking. “Things have gotten exciting around here.”
I stared at him, dumbfounded that his response to all that had happened today was that it was exciting, and then I suddenly laughed. The girls stared at me for a second and then joined me.
“What’s so funny?” Nathan asked.
“Don’t you see?” Helen replied, gasping. “It’s taken an attack of killer crows to turn you into a scholar!”
“Come on, then,” I said, squeezing Daisy’s hand and whispering that I was sorry. “We’d best get to work.”
z o Z Miss Corey had left us there with a night’s supply of lamps, firewood, tea, and biscuits. Sarah drilled us on declensions and spells, history dates and fairy phyla, hunting terms, and potions, making up rhymes and acronyms to help us remember them.
“You’re so good at this,” Daisy enthused. “Do you plan to be a teacher yourself?”
I was glad to see Daisy had recovered from my outburst. I’d been trying all night to make it up to her, which had the extra advantage of taking my mind off what I’d overheard in Dame Beckwith’s office.
“Perhaps,” Sarah said, biting her lower lip. “I want to do something that makes a real difference. There’s so much to be done in the Order—not just here at Blythewood, but out in the world.”
“What does the Order do out in the world?” Daisy asked, frowning. “I mean, I understand that we’re meant to know how to guard the Blythe Wood and keep the fairies and demons from getting out, but what about the Blythewood graduates. What do they do?”
“They’re meant to keep a lookout for demons and fairies that have infiltrated the outside world. They’re all over.” She lowered her voice to a low conspiratorial whisper. “What they haven’t told you yet is that there are fairies who look just like us and pass as humans. They’re the most dangerous ones. We really should be doing more. All we do here at Blythewood is maintain the status quo. But I think it’s time for us to take a more active role and eradicate evil.”
Her fervor reminded me of Tillie and the suffragists I’d heard speaking from soapboxes in Union Square. I was also reminded of the whispered argument I’d overhead between Agnes and Caroline Janeway.
I wasn’t the only one moved.
“Exactly,” Nathan said, his eyes shining at Sarah. “We can’t just sit around doing nothing.”
“But what can we do?” I asked.
“We can continue studying and pass our exams,” Helen said reprovingly, glaring at Sarah. I don’t think she liked the way Nathan was looking at her. “Now can you please go over the bell changes for repelling sprites once again? I never can keep them straight.”
Sarah complied, but when Helen wasn’t looking, I saw Sarah passing Nathan a note. He smiled when he read it and tucked it away in his pocket. I tried to concentrate on the two hundred changes we were supposed to have memorized by tomorrow and not think about what the note had said—or feel a pang of jealousy at the way Nathan had looked at Sarah.
We studied through Halloween night, keeping the fire stoked and the curtains drawn. Even if we had gone to bed it would have been impossible to sleep. The bells rang every hour; to ward off any creatures that might try to stray from the woods, Sarah told us. I felt that we were doing our own part to keep away the demons, reciting our spells and declensions, forming a bond against the dark forged out of the camaraderie of a shared task. I was banishing my own demons, too—my questions about my father and what his connection might be to the awful Shadow Master—with the laughter and warmth of my friends.
It seemed cruel to schedule exams after such a sleepless night, but Sarah explained that it was so we’d get used to performing under pressure. It certainly was grueling. The exams took up the whole next day. Hours of essay writing and answering questions left us all covered in ink splots and splashes of potions from the practical section of the science exam. Whenever I felt my energy flagging one of my friends was there with an encouraging smile or a grimace of shared toil—and not just my friends. A girl I’d never noticed before offered me a pen when mine broke; another made room for me at her lab table. In between exams I noticed girls whispering in knots. I feared at first that the details of my past life that I’d told in Dame Beckwith’s office had gotten out and they were whispering about me working in a shirtwaist factory or being locked in a mental institution, but when we were going into our last exam—in Miss Frost’s class—one of the girls came up to ask if it were true that we had saved the school from a shadow crow attack.
“Yes,
” Helen answered for us. “I personally slew a dozen of the creatures and Daisy here beat off an entire murder with her reticule.” Helen motioned to the embroidered bag, which Daisy hadn’t let go of since it had been restored to her this morning by Sarah. “But the real hero was Ava. She mesmerized the birds with the power of the bells in her head. If not for her, the entire school would have been overrun. There’s talk of erecting a statue of her.”
“Personally,” Georgiana sniffed, “I would be worried if I heard things in my head.”
“Personally,” Nate said as he strolled in late, “I’d be surprised if there were anything in your head.”
Georgiana was about to utter a retort when Miss Frost sailed in, Sarah struggling in her wake with an armful of trays, and commanded us all to our seats. When we were all seated, Sarah began distributing the trays.
“After the calamitous attack on Blythewood yesterday, Dame Beckwith required my consultation late into the night. I was therefore unable to prepare the written section of the exam.”
Cam Bennett, sitting behind me, broke into a cheer that was taken up by the whole class, except for Georgiana, who was still sulking from Nathan’s insult.
“Yes, yes, there’s no need to thank me for my service to the school. As my mentor Sir Miles Malmsbury would say, ‘Steady sails the ship of science.’ The events of yesterday have driven home to me how vital it is for us to understand our enemy. So, in lieu of a written exam, you will dissect a lampsprite, identifying each anatomical—”
“No.”
The voice came from my right, but I hardly recognized it as Daisy’s. She was standing, her reticule clutched in both hands before her as if she were drawing strength from Mr. Appleby’s letters inside.
Miss Frost stared at her, her face turning the same purple as her dress. “How dare you talk to a superior in such a fashion, Miss . . . er . . .”
“Moffat,” Daisy said in a loud, clear voice. “Miss Daisy Moffat from Kansas City, Kansas.”
“I do not care what your name is, girl, or from what provincial backwater you hail. You will sit down and do as you have been told.”
“No,” Daisy said again. “It is cruel to treat the lampsprites as you have. Even back at our farm in Kansas we treat our animals better, and these are not animals. I have been reading about them. They’re—”
“They are devious, dangerous demons!” Miss Frost cried, shaking her fist at Daisy. “It was a lampsprite that led Sir Malmsbury astray on his last mission, from which he never returned. I will tolerate no sympathy for the creatures. If you do not sit down and dissect the little demon I will personally see to it that you are expelled and sent back to the farmyard pigsty from which you came.”
Would Miss Frost really have that power? I wondered. She was a sour, drink-addled woman, and yet Dame Beckwith had seemed oddly tolerant of her in the conversation I’d overheard yesterday.
“Miss Frost,” I said, rising to my feet beside Daisy, “I think we all understand how important it is to honor Sir Miles Malmsbury by continuing his work.” I’d only meant to echo the words that Miss Frost had used yesterday to remind her of Dame Beckwith’s patience with her in the hope she would show a similar patience with Daisy, but as the blood drained from her face I saw that she guessed I’d overheard her. She was looking at me with such hate that I heard the bass bell ring an alarm in my head. Very well then, I thought, hardening my heart to her, let her think that. I went on in measured tones that were punctuated by the slow toll of my inner bell.
“But would Sir Malmsbury really want us to mutilate the specimens he worked so hard to collect? Wouldn’t he prefer that we, er, honor his work by, perhaps, drawing and diagramming them instead?”
When I finished the bell was ringing so loudly in my head I was sure that everyone could hear it. Any minute now I would be denounced for practicing magic on my teacher. Wasn’t it obvious? Miss Frost had cocked her head and was staring at me with a gaze as blank as the dead eyes of the skewered sprite. She swallowed audibly, then shook herself.
“Sir Miles did always admire a well-done sketch.” She looked at the photo of her mentor on the wall. “As I was saying, girls, please draw a diagram of the sprite, identifying the genus and its distinguishing features. Sarah will collect the drawings. I’ve suddenly developed the most unpleasant headache.”
As soon as Miss Frost left, the class broke out in applause. “Three cheers for Ava,” Cam cried, thumping me on the back. “Hip, hip, hooray!” The class actually cheered.
“Thank you,” Daisy whispered.
“It was nothing,” I said, but as I bent my head down to my drawing I felt my cheeks burning as I thought of how proud Tillie would be of me. I’d finally earned Mr. Greenfeder’s nickname—I was a fiery girl.
23
I SLEPT DREAMLESSLY that night and awoke the next morning to a world transformed. A storm had stripped all the last autumn leaves from the trees and glazed the bare branches with frost, like the icing on a cake. Autumn had become winter and our lives at Blythewood had changed just as dramatically.
The ordeal of the crow attack, the mysteries that had been revealed to us by the candelabellum, and our night studying together had forged a bond between Nathan, Helen, Daisy, and me. A bond cemented when Nathan drew us aside the morning after exams and asked us for our help with a special research project.
“A research project?” Helen scoffed. “Since when have you been interested in researching anything but gambling and drinking?”
“Since I learned that those demons took my sister,” Nate replied, wiping the smile from Helen’s face. “I’m going to get her back.”
“But you heard what your mother said,” Helen said. “Once a girl’s taken by a Darkling she’s . . . changed. You can’t get Louisa back, Nate.”
“Ava’s mother came back from the woods. There might be something in the Special Collections that can tell us how to save Louisa. As long as there’s a chance, I’m not going to give up.”
“What do you want us to do?” I asked. “I want us to study in the library the way we did last night so that I can get into the Special Collections.”
“That’s all?” Helen asked, folding her arms across her chest. “But Miss Corey is always there. She’s not going to let you just go down into the Special Collections.”
“She will if Ava bell-mances her.”
“I can’t!” I cried. “I wouldn’t do that to a teacher!”
“You did it to Miss Frost for Daisy.”
“I didn’t mean to. And Miss Corey is different. I like her.”
“Fine.” Nathan sighed. “You don’t have to bell-mance her, just study with me in the library. I’ll find my own way into the Special Collections.”
To my surprise, Helen turned to me and Daisy and lifted an eyebrow. “What do you two think?” she asked us both. “Shall we aid and abet Mr. Beckwith with his illicit quest? If it turns out like most of his projects, we’ll probably end up sacked from the school.”
I expected that shy Daisy, who hated even to be caught talking in class, would object, but instead she said, “I think it’s a very good idea. I’d like to know a thing or two more about the lampsprites to prove to Miss Frost that they shouldn’t be treated as they are.”
“I applaud your progressive zeal, Miss Moffat,” Nathan said gallantly. And then, turning to me, “And what about you, Miss Hall? Anything you care to look up in the Special Collections?”
I thought about all I’d learned in the last twenty-four hours.
CAROL GOODMAN [ 277 The boy who I thought saved me from the Triangle fire might be a soulless demon. My mother had come back from the woods covered in black feathers. The man in the Inverness cape said he knew my father.
“Yes,” I told Nathan, “now that you mention it, there are a couple of things I’d like to look into.”
z o Z From then on the four of us met each day, after classes, in the library at the long oak table that stood between the fireplace, from whose mantel marble bus
ts of Homer, Plato, and Sappho watched over us, and the diamond-paned windows that looked out to the river, where the ice grew thicker each day until the river itself seemed to stand still in time. Outside, the highpitched cries of the falcons patrolling the woods and the ringing of the bells tied to their legs echoed in the chill air as though we were sealed under a glass dome. Inside the library, beside the fireplace, the books from the Special Collections mounted up on the table before us as steadily as the ice forming on the river.
I didn’t have to bell-mance Miss Corey; Nate was able to convince her to give him access to some of the “more harmless” books from the collections. “Perhaps we’ll find something in them that will help us ward off another attack,” he argued.
Although Miss Corey insisted that “better minds than his” had combed through the books, he told her he’d heard what she’d said at Violet House about making all information available to every student. He even offered to help her bring the books up the spiral stairs. He was the first to sort through the books and hand them out to each of us. Gone was his attitude of boredom and cynicism. He seemed possessed by the desire to know more about the creatures that had stolen his sister.
Daisy also seemed possessed by a new fervor after her “revolt” in Miss Frost’s class. “Are there any books by Sir Malmsbury?” she asked Miss Corey one day as the latter was helping Miss Sharp pick out books for a class project.
“Why yes,” Miss Corey replied. “I’ll get them for you as soon as I’ve done helping Vi—er . . . Miss Sharp.”
“I’ll fetch them,” Nathan volunteered, jumping to his feet and opening the trapdoor mechanism.
“Well, um . . .” Miss Corey hesitated until Miss Sharp laid her hand on hers and asked whether the library had a copy of the secret fairy journals of Charlotte Brontë. Nate used her distraction to head down by himself and emerged some time later covered by dust and bearing a collection of leather-bound journals, which Daisy eagerly dived into.
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