“That belongs to Mr. Bellows! How did you get it?”
“I took it from him when he was goggling at Miss Sharp. He didn’t even miss it. It’s not like he’s making any use of it. Everyone here knows that those monsters are in the woods preying on innocent girls and no one’s doing anything about it. Because they don’t think it’s worth saving a girl once she’s been taken. They think she’s worthless, just as they thought your mother was worthless. They banished her when she came back. Well, I don’t think Louisa is worthless, no matter what’s happened to her. I’m going to take a Darkling hostage and get her back.”
I didn’t think Nathan was strong enough to take a Darkling hostage, but I didn’t tell him that. “Even if you could get Louisa back,” I said instead, “you must remember that she might not be the same. She might be possessed by those shadow creatures . . . like my mother. She was never completely . . . right. She could never settle. She moved us from place to place. She never trusted anyone. And then she began drinking the laudanum . . .”
“But at least you had her,” Nathan said. “At least she came back. I won’t stop until I find Louisa . . . and make the bastards that took her pay. Everyone goes home for break in a few days. The solstice is considered so dangerous that they send everyone home and then cower in the castle, leaving poor old Gillie to patrol the woods. I can easily slip past him. I’m going into the woods and I’m not coming out until I’ve caught one of the Darklings and made them give Louisa back.”
He glared at me, daring me to argue with him. But I didn’t. Instead I told him that I’d go with him.
24
I HAD KNOWN for several weeks that I would be staying over the winter break. Early in December I had received a letter from Agnes telling me that my grandmother had decided to spend the winter in Europe.
I had hoped to get a chance to see you so we could have a good long talk about all that you have seen and done at Blythewood, but am afraid that will have to wait for the spring when we return. Caroline Janeway sends her regards and says that if ever you need to get away from Blythewood for a spell you are welcome to stay with her.
I hope you will not be too lonely staying there over break. I stayed during winter break one year and rather enjoyed the solitude. Christmas at Blythewood is a magical time.
Such hints were the only references Agnes ever made to the true nature of Blythewood. I guessed that she didn’t want to commit anything sensational to writing and she was waiting for us to meet in person to talk about all I had learned since she left me at the Grand Central Station in September. I suspected from what Agnes had said about “the old ways” that she didn’t approve of everything that went on at Blythewood. I wondered now if the old ways she had so despised had to do with the charts in the dungeons recording the family bloodlines. Had Agnes been deemed NLVBL and denied marriage? From the way Mr. Greenfeder had looked at her I didn’t think he would agree. I would have also liked to ask her if she thought all the fairies were evil—especially the Darklings. She knew I’d found the black feather beside my mother. Did she think a Darkling had killed her? But until I could talk to Agnes, the only answer might come from the Darkling himself.
Which was another of the reasons I agreed to go into the woods with Nathan. All we had to do was wait for everyone to leave the school for break. Most of the girls left right after final exams on the Wednesday before Christmas in a flurry of automobiles and carriages, trunks and hatboxes, cheerful shouts and tearful partings. Watching them go it was hard not to envy the homecoming they were headed toward. They all belonged somewhere. But where did I belong?
For a little while I’d thought it was here, but since my argument with Helen I wasn’t so sure. Although Helen tried to smooth things over I couldn’t forget that I wasn’t her “sort of people.” Daisy, sensing the strain between Helen and me, had been acting like a skittish cat, unable even to be in the same room with the two of us. I almost would have been glad to see the two of them go, but Daisy had volunteered to stay an extra day to help Sarah Lehman catalogue Miss Frost’s samples. Helen, because she lived so close, was waiting until her mother
CAROL GOODMAN [ 293
came up from their Washington Square brownstone to open the Hyde Park house for the holiday season. “Mother says you’re welcome to come,” she invited me stiffly. “Although we will no doubt be treated to a boring array of old men my mother would like to marry me off to.”
I thanked her just as stiffly for the invitation, but the last thing I wanted was to witness a parade of potential suitors for Helen. Although I had not peeked at the van Beeks’ files (that would have been dishonorable) I was sure that Helen must be considered the cream of the Blythewood crop. She might complain about her mother lining up suitors for her, but at least she was considered marriageable. So I told Helen that I’d already promised to catalogue books for Miss Corey. I didn’t’ mention my plans to sneak into the woods with Nathan.
“Will Miss Corey be staying here, too?” Helen asked. “She and Miss Sharp are staying at Violet House, but they promised to check in on me.”
“Won’t you be terrified here all alone?” Daisy asked as we watched Gillie ferry the last coach to the train station and an eerie silence descended over the castle and the grounds. “Especially on the solstice.”
“Gillie’ll be here,” I replied, perhaps not altogether convincingly, as I saw Daisy and Helen exchange a worried look, “and Sarah. As long as we all stay in the castle during the solstice we’ll be perfectly safe.” Of course I didn’t mention that I wasn’t planning to stay inside during the solstice.
The next morning we awoke to a couple of inches of new snow and predictions of another storm on the way—enough to make travel slow, but not to justify my roommates’ reactions.
“I’m afraid I’ll get stuck on a train somewhere in Ohio,” Daisy said. “I’ve wired Mother and Father that it’s best if I stay here.”
“And I’ve told my parents that I want to stay over break and get a head start on my studies for the spring,” Helen said.
“And they believed that?” I asked incredulously.
Helen smirked. “No. They think I’m avoiding the ancient groom Mother’s picked out for me—and they’re right. I hear he’s twice my age and has a face like a dead mackerel. But he’s also from one of the oldest families in New York—the van something-or-others—and rich as Croesus. Mother’s so angry at me she’s convinced Daddy to sail to Europe for the spring season. She thinks I’ll mind missing Paris, but I don’t. Really. Think how cozy we three can be here all on our own. It will be loads of fun.”
I didn’t think being stuck alone with Helen and Daisy all break would be cozy, nor did I believe my roommates’ excuses for staying for a minute. They had clearly decided that I mustn’t be left on my own, which made it very inconvenient to get away from them to go into the woods with Nathan. He was adamant that he needed to go in on Friday night—the night of the winter solstice. “All the creatures will be out that night.”
I thought that was a good reason not to go into the woods on that night, but Nathan thought it made it more likely that he’d find a Darkling. I still wasn’t sure how he planned to capture one of them, but I knew I didn’t want him to go into the woods by himself.
Without the bustle and noise of students in the castle, we could hear the wind groaning through the acres of woods at the edge of the lawn. The woods felt, in fact, as if they had come closer to the house, as if the very trees knew we were alone and would creep up on us when we weren’t looking. Eating dinner in the Great Hall with Nate and Sarah, Helen and Daisy, and only old deaf Bertie to wait on us, our little group seemed like a band of pilgrims who had wandered into a medieval castle seeking shelter from some dreadful disaster—plague or civil war. The great columns that held up the arched ceiling loomed over us like trees in a forest. Winds shook the panes of the stainedglass windows, rattling the swords and shields of the seven sisters standing guard between us and the woods. I thought I coul
d just make out a tinkling sound that might have been ice crystallizing on branches, but that reminded me of the bells of the candelabellum beneath us in the dungeons, spinning their stories in the dark.
After dinner we played flush and trophies in the Commons Room until eleven, and then left Nathan and Sarah to go upstairs to our room. Our steps echoed strangely in the nearly empty castle. Daisy’s and Helen’s silly chatter sounded frail and thin as birdsong in the stairwell. Wind rattled the windowpanes on the landings as if it were trying to get inside. Our room was icy, but we were all too tired to build a fire. Instead we climbed into our beds under extra quilts.
I waited until Daisy’s and Helen’s replies to each other grew shorter and farther apart and then finally subsided. Then I waited through the midnight tolling of the bells before stepping out of bed. I’d worn wool stockings to bed under the navyblue bloomers we wore for archery class, along with a navy-blue jersey and heavy socks. I carried my boots as I crept out of the room and down the back stairs to the back door by the scullery where Nathan was waiting for me, sitting on the bottom step beside a lit lantern, its wick trimmed to a faint glow.
“There you are,” he whispered. “I didn’t think you were coming. A few more minutes and I’d have gone without you.”
“I had to wait for Daisy and Helen to fall asleep.” I sat down to pull my boots on. “They took forever talking about whether Mr. Bellows would ask Miss Sharp to marry him and if she’d say yes, and if they got married would they have the ceremony at Violet House and what would she wear and would Miss Corey be maid of honor and would we be asked to be bridesmaids . . .”
“What utter rot,” Nathan said.
“I know,” I replied. In truth I’d been beguiled by the image Helen had conjured of Miss Sharp in cream Peau de Chine, orange blossom lace and an enormous bouquet of white violets, with us in her wake arrayed in lilac dresses. “The Order won’t let her marry, will they?”
“Whyever not?”
The voice came from above us on the stairs and was decidedly female. Nathan flinched, sprung up the steps, and seized the intruder, who yelped and struggled as he held the lantern to her face. Helen, in the same navy outfit of jersey and bloomers as I wore, swatted the lantern away. “Get that light out of my eyes. Do you want to wake Sour Lemon? She’ll turn us in for sure.”
“What are you doing here, Helen?” Nathan demanded.
“I could ask you the same thing, Nathan Fillmore Beckwith, only I think it’s obvious. I knew as soon as you’d gotten it into your head that a Darkling had stolen Louisa that you’d go running off into the woods the moment you had the place to yourself. When Ava insisted on staying here over break I thought something must be up. And then when she went to sleep in her bloomers I realized it must be tonight.”
Nathan turned to glare at me. “I didn’t think she noticed,” I said, “or that she’d be caught dead in the things herself outside of archery.”
Helen shrugged. “It’s not as if anyone is going to see us.” “You can’t come, Helen.” Nathan bit off the words between clenched lips. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Nonsense! If Ava can do it, so can I. I’m a better shot and I’ve brought my bow.” She demonstrated the bow and quiver strapped over her shoulder. “Have either of you even thought to bring a weapon?”
Nathan brandished his dagger.
“That’s Rupert’s!” Another voice came from higher up the stairs.
“Hell’s bells!” Nathan swore. “Not you too, Daisy!” Daisy crept meekly out of the shadows. Helen leaned over toward me and mimicked, “That’s Rupert’s! Since when are you on a first-name basis with our teachers?”
Even in the dark I could tell Daisy was blushing. “I was only shocked to see that Nathan had filched his knife.”
“Stop it!” Nathan hissed. “Why do you think I didn’t ask you two? Ava at least knows how to keep her mouth shut.” I was stung that my only recommendation was taciturnity, but bit back a retort. “Nathan’s right,” I said. “Sarah might hear us and tell Gillie what we’re planning.”
“And what is your plan to get past Gillie?” Helen asked. “He’s got that creepy owl with him.”
“Blodeuwedd’s not creepy,” I countered. “And she can’t be everywhere. We’ll wait until she passes and then sneak into the woods.”
Daisy shook her head. “I’ve watched her. You’ll never get past her . . . unless she’s distracted by this.” She reached into her jersey pocket and drew out something small and furry.
Helen squeaked and clutched Nathan’s arm. “A mouse! You’ve got a mouse in your pocket! A live mouse!” She looked like she was going to clamber up on top of Nathan’s shoulders.
“I rescued it from Miss Frost’s specimen room,” Daisy said, cradling the small creature. “I thought better a fast death out in the open than whatever terrible thing Miss Frost had planned for it. And at least it will die for the good of the group.” She looked from me to Helen to Nate. Poor Daisy. Since my fight with Helen all she’d wanted was for us to be united again, like the time we all faced the goblins together in the woods. She didn’t know anything about the bloodline records in the dungeons or that she and I would never really belong here at Blythewood. But then Helen did something very strange. She folded her own hands over Daisy’s hand and held the mouse.
“That’s a very noble sacrifice, Daisy. We all know how much you care about small helpless creatures.”
I looked at Nathan, expecting him to mock Helen’s sentiment, but instead I saw something shift in his eyes. The haunted look I’d seen since that day on the roof had softened. He reached out and took my hand and Helen’s, linking the four of us together.
“All right,” Nathan said, “we’ll all go together, but only if you all promise to follow me and do what I say. We’re going to find that Darkling and make him tell us what happened to my sister. And if I find out they’ve killed her . . .” He let go of Helen’s hand to hold up the dagger and turn it in the light of his lantern. The dark runes carved on its blade leapt into life. For a moment I saw the runes floating in the air, casting shadows over the faces of my three friends, linking us together, but in what fate I didn’t know.
z o Z We could not have picked a worse night. The sky was crystal clear. Even though the moon was less than a quarter full, it reflected off the snow so brightly that it might have been daylight. I didn’t see how we’d make it across the lawn without Gillie seeing us. But Nate pointed to the stone wall that edged the formal garden.
“If we stay in the shadow of the wall we’ll be okay. When we get to the end of the wall we’ll wait until we see Blodeuwedd, and then Daisy can toss out the bait and we’ll run for the woods.” He waited until we all nodded our agreement. Daisy looking wistfully at the mouse in her pocket. If we survived this, I swore to myself, I’d find her another to keep as a pet.
We crept along the garden wall, Nate first, then me, Helen, and Daisy, all of us keeping to the shadows. When we reached the end of the wall there was still a long expanse of moonlit snow, against which was painted a shadow of enormous wings. I clutched Nathan’s hand, thinking the Darkling had come to meet us, but then I looked up and saw the white wings and wide pale face of Blodeuwedd lit up by the moonlight. Her solemn heart-shaped face seemed to look directly at me. I pressed myself against the stone wall, feeling helpless as the mouse in Daisy’s pocket.
“Deploy the mouse, Daisy!” Nathan hissed.
“I don’t think I can,” Daisy cried.
“Oh, hell’s bells!” Helen swore.
I looked back to see Helen putting her hand in Daisy’s pocket, making a face. She flung the poor mouse out onto the grass, where it squeaked in alarm. Instantly, Blodeuwedd’s remorseless face swiveled toward the noise and she plunged on soundless wings toward the mouse.
“Now!” Nathan cried. He ran for the edge of the woods. I followed, nearly stumbling because my legs were numb from crouching, but Helen caught my arm and pulled me upright. Daisy was on the other side o
f me, her face wet and shining in the moonlight. Relief swept over me when we reached the shadows of the trees . . . until I looked into those shadows.
Amidst the snow-dusted and icicle-hung trees stood looming figures of glowing white ice. My first thought was that they were statues from the garden that had been coated in ice, but if they were statues why was the bass bell clamoring in my head? Besides, they didn’t look like any of the statues in the garden. Instead of beautiful, classical youths and maidens, these statues were of huge, shaggily bearded men holding clubs and grimacing through mouths full of sharp teeth.
“What . . . ?” I began, but then one of the statues snarled and took a lumbering step toward me.
“Ice giants!” Nathan shouted, grabbing my hand. “Come on, we have to reach the Rowan Circle.”
“Why the Rowan Circle?” Helen shouted over the wind as we ran from the lumbering ice giants. On every side of us trees thrashed in the wind, spraying snow and icicles. Ice-coated branches reached out to block our way, and roots writhed under the snow to trip us. I could hear the lumbering steps of the ice giants pursuing us.
“It’s enspelled to keep out fairies and demons,” Nathan replied. “I read about it in one of the books from the Special Collections.”
The whole woods seemed to be throwing itself in our way. Branches fell from the trees and roots erupted from the ground. A vine scratched my face. When I tried to brush it away sharp claws dug into my arm. A wizened face loomed in front of me, its mouth opened in a toothy grimace.
“Hunn . . . gree!” it cried.
I screamed and silver flashed in front of my eyes and blood splashed in my face. “Goblins!” Nathan shouted, drawing his dagger out of a limp, furry creature that had the face of a wizened old man. “Run!”
We ran blindly through the woods. I no longer knew if we were headed toward the Rowan Circle, only that I had to get away from the creatures at my heels. The sound of them alone was maddening—a chittering combined with sounds that might have been words. Could goblins talk? The one that had attacked me had said something that sounded like “hungry.” If they could talk they weren’t animals, but “hungry” seemed to be the sum total of their vocabulary, and I didn’t have time to turn around and try to converse with one. Their smell, like rotten meat and fetid water, covered my skin with an oily film and crept down my throat, making me gag. Somehow I knew that the smell came from their last meal and that my flesh would soon join the rotting meat stuck between their teeth.
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