She switched off the light and opened her bedroom door a crack, glancing in the direction of Aunt Paige’s bedroom. The slit of light under the door meant that her aunt had probably fallen asleep while reading in bed. Relieved, Donna carefully closed her door again.
Then she took a deep breath and did something she hadn’t done since she and Navin had first become friends, when they used to visit each other after lights out, their respective guardians thinking they were in bed. She climbed out the window and, using the half-rotten trellis and the drain pipe for support, shimmied down to the ground. The magical strength in her hands and arms always made the task so much easier than it should have been. She only bashed her shin twice, which she took to be a good sign; maybe luck was on her side after all.
The moon was almost full and Donna was glad of the light, but also worried that she might be too easily spotted if anyone happened to be looking out their back windows. Thinking invisible thoughts, she sprinted to the back of the yard, climbed over the fence, and walked down the alleyway that led out onto the main road.
Xan was there waiting, as promised, leaning against his car and holding his cell phone as though expecting her to call. She’d told him that if she had trouble getting out of the house, he would have to create a diversion. Thankfully, that part of the plan hadn’t been necessary. His face broke into a grin of pure relief the moment he spotted her.
Donna smiled back and touched his hand. “Thank you for doing this, Xan.” She raised herself up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.
He shrugged, his eyes filled with warmth. “Sure.”
She slipped into the passenger seat and buckled up, trying to steady her breathing. This was crazy, she knew, and they were taking a huge risk. She was trying not to think too far ahead, but already it was eleven o’clock and there were only a handful of hours until dawn. Could she really be planning to hand over something so valuable to the alchemists’ lifelong enemy? How would she ever explain it to Aunt Paige—or to any other members of the Order? She would be a traitor. And what would her father think of her, if he were alive today? Donna angrily turned her mind away from such thoughts, staring out the window and watching the dark Ironbridge streets pass by.
She would do whatever it took to save Navin. He hadn’t asked for this—to become a bargaining piece between warring factions of fey and mortals, themselves fractured remains of an ancient time when things had probably been a hell of a lot simpler. Navin was an innocent bystander, and she wouldn’t let him suffer for something that he could never truly understand, no matter how much he might try.
They approached the Frost Estate and parked around the corner, leaving themselves a short walk to the main gate. It would be tricky gaining entry without alerting anyone, Donna knew, especially since there were magical wards in place.
Xan pondered this problem as they huddled by the wall on the south side of the estate. “I think we’ll be okay. You’re not a threat to them—you come here all the time for classes, anyway—so I doubt you’ll trigger any of the defenses.”
Donna frowned. “What about you?”
He pushed his hair out of his eyes. “I honestly don’t know. If I had the power I should have, I could make myself invisible to most magic. But … ”
Donna touched his arm. “It’s okay. We’ll just have to chance it. Maybe you’ve got some natural protection that you’re not aware of.”
“Maybe. And ever since we opened that door into the otherworld I’ve been feeling different, somehow. As though something is awakening inside me.” He shrugged. “I don’t know what it means—or if it means anything at all. But it could be a good sign.”
He turned and climbed the wall with relative ease. Once again Donna saw how agile he was; was this ability part of his fey heritage? Xan crouched at the top in the darkness, and for a moment all she could see was a shadow cloaked in the familiar black coat. His bright green eyes blinked down at her like a cat’s.
And then she was hauled unceremoniously to the top, scrambling slightly as the toes of her sneakers struggled to find purchase against the smooth areas of the wall, until she rolled next to Xan and caught her breath.
Without speaking, they dropped down into the grounds of the Frost Estate.
Donna looked up at Quentin’s mansion and bit her lip, wondering what to do next. If only she could’ve searched for clues during a study break tomorrow … but there was no time for that. Navin—and Maker—only had until dawn. She glanced over at Xan and wondered what he was thinking.
They were standing outside the window of the Blue Room, but what Donna hadn’t accounted for were the wooden shutters closed firmly over it, no doubt locked from the inside. Of course, they could probably break them open, but what sort of noise would that make? And it would be obvious the next day that something had happened.
She caught Xan’s eye and raised her eyebrows. “Any ideas?”
“I think we should try the back door.”
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat and led the way around the house, checking that all the lights were off at the rear as they were in the front. Satisfied that the household had definitely gone to bed (Quentin and Simon weren’t young men, and Donna knew they tended to retire close to ten o’clock during the week), they took turns examining the back door.
“I could probably break it,” Donna said, “but I don’t want to wake everybody up.”
Xan crouched down and studied the lock. “This can be picked, I think. I’m sure they have magical wards in place, but those protect against the big threats to security; nobody expects an old-fashioned breaking-and-entering deal. A credit card and something sharp should do it.” He pulled his wallet out of an inside coat pocket.
Donna scanned the ground, then searched her pockets for a paperclip or something useful. She wished she were the kind of girl to wear pretty hair clips, because then she could present one to Xan and things would be a whole lot easier. As she dug into her pockets, something sharp pressed against her left wrist, inside her glove. Wait, she thought; maybe there’s something here we can use.
She carefully removed her charm bracelet. There were only six charms on the silver chain, each one soldered in place. Donna’s lips curved into a smile—one of the charms was a tiny replica of a dagger. Silently thanking her mother, she pulled off her glove, pinched the silver piece between her forefinger and thumb, and pulled.
Glancing regretfully at the twisted link, Donna slipped the bracelet back on and handed the miniature dagger to Xan.
“Perfect,” he whispered, and got to work.
She watched as he concentrated on the lock. He stopped once to smile briefly at her before returning his attention to it. Whatever he was doing looked very fiddly to Donna—he was maneuvering the credit card down the side of the door where the catch would be, while twiddling the sharp blade of the tiny silver knife in the lock. He was down there for some time, his long coat pooled like water behind him on the pathway. At one point, Donna was sure she saw him whispering something, his lips moving almost silently as he concentrated.
After a few more minutes—and a few curses and grunts from Xan—there was a muffled click and the door sprung open.
“See?” he said triumphantly.
Donna watched him, a suspicious feeling forming in her gut. “How do you know how to do that?”
His face was closed. “You don’t know everything about me, Donna Underwood.”
“So it seems.” But she let it go—for now—as they entered a dark hallway, then took the lead as they made their way to the Blue Room, slipping the bent silver dagger charm into her jeans pocket and making sure to tuck the bracelet back into her glove. Xan had brought a flashlight from the car, but Donna didn’t want to chance it while they were moving around. She used her cell phone to cast just enough light to see by as they padded down the hallway.
Creeping around a huge house at night—while the residents slept peacefully on the upper floors—was making Donna increasingly nervous. She
was glad for the plush carpeting that helped to keep their steps muffled.
Just as they approached the entrance to the library, a clock began striking midnight. Someone had obviously reset the grandfather clock after Simon had found her trying to figure out how to do it. Donna held her breath as the twelve chimes sounded from beyond the library doors, gritting her teeth until the ringing stopped. She realized that Xan was holding her hand and she hadn’t even noticed it; the gentle pressure rubbed the velvet of her glove against her palm. The sensation was both intimate and comforting, standing in the dark with the midnight hour chiming in the background. When the clock finally finished its announcement, Donna tugged her hand free and pushed open the double doors.
As they entered the room, Xan indicated that he was going to switch on the flashlight. She nodded, waiting while he angled the beam around until it rested on the grandfather clock. The surrounding bookshelves looked eerie in the half-light, shadows falling over the piles of books and reminding Donna of her recent nightmare.
Trying to ignore the bleak images that filled her mind, she approached the clock with caution and stood there, just looking at it. Okay, here went nothing. She reached a gloved hand up toward the ivory clock face, shivering as the shadows on the wall moved under the light of Xan’s flashlight. She ran her hands over the glass that was covering the timepiece, wondering if she’d missed something before. If Simon hadn’t interrupted her, she could have saved a lot of time searching now. Pushing that irritation aside, she focused on the task. There had to be an easy way to open this thing.
Could it really be as easy as popping open the casing and finding the elixir inside? Donna couldn’t hold back a wry smile. Yeah, she could hope.
Breathing fast, she ran her fingers along the back of the clock, behind the section housing the clock face, searching for some kind of catch. Her fingers hit something small and solid protruding from the wood; with great relief, she flicked the switch and heard a satisfying click near her ear. Stepping back and resting her trembling fingers against the beautifully polished wooden panels on the front, Donna tried to see what she’d accomplished.
For a moment it didn’t seem like anything was different, and she cast a confused glance at Xan.
And then she felt cool air brush across her face as the case of the grandfather clock opened. The wooden front swung wide and Donna had to jump out of the way. When she leaned in close again, she could just make out that there was no visible mechanism or catch on the smooth edge of the door.
A thrill ran down her spine. She impatiently gestured to Xan to shine the light inside the clock. Then she screwed up her eyes and tried to see into the complicated inner workings, all cogs and wheels made of polished brass, half hoping it would be easy and she’d find a handy vial of elixir just waiting for her somewhere. Maybe wrapped in black silk like her aunt’s Tarot cards, to keep any negative energy from affecting the contents.
There was no vial.
However, there was—at the very bottom of the casement, sitting innocuously on the heavy base underneath the main workings and brass pendulum of the clock—a steel lever with a wooden handle. She reached toward it eagerly.
“Wait,” Xan hissed, grabbing her elbow. The flashlight beam swung crazily for a moment. “You don’t have any idea what that does.”
Biting her lip, Donna met his eyes and tried to look more confident than she felt. “There has to be something here, Xan. Why would there be a secret way of opening the clock if it wasn’t hiding something? And look—” Here she gestured at the empty casement, empty of everything but the regular mechanical bits and pieces you’d expect to find inside a grandfather clock. “There’s nothing else inside, so this has to be what we’re looking for. I just know it.”
Reluctantly, he released her arm and she turned back to the lever. Heart pounding, sweat trickling down the back of her neck, she gripped the handle tightly and pushed, noticing how easily the mechanism slipped into position. It seemed as though it was used regularly and kept well-oiled.
Then the entire clock sprang silently away from the wall. Just a few inches, but enough to make it obvious that there was a doorway behind it.
“Whoa,” said Xan. “Cool.”
Donna tried to keep the excitement out of her voice. “Come on,” she whispered. “A secret door that Simon’s desperate to protect has got to be something good. Let’s go.”
She pulled the clock farther away from the wall and slipped behind it before Xan could do anything stupid like offer to go first. No way, Donna thought. Time was running out, and nothing was going to stop her from discovering a way to save Navin.
The corridor was lined with cold gray stone and tightly packed earth. It became colder the farther away from the entrance they walked. The floor seemed to be tilting slightly, and Donna soon realized that they were heading down into what would be a basement level. Only it wasn’t a basement set beneath the house—it had to be located beneath the estate grounds, within the property but beyond the outer walls of the mansion.
There was no need for the flashlight or any illumination from a cell phone as they walked, thanks to the strange multicolored gemstones pressed into the tunnel walls at regular intervals. Donna had never seen anything like them, but they provided enough natural light that she and Xan could walk the length of the passageway without falling over one another.
The smell, on the other hand, was disgusting.
It was like rotten eggs combined with bitter vinegar, and Donna had to pull her scarf around her face to keep from gagging. Xan didn’t seem quite so affected, although he agreed it was “pretty gross.” Donna knew that alchemical experiments often used sulphur, and her anticipation grew at the thought that they might have found Simon Gaunt’s laboratory.
Everybody knew where Quentin’s lab was—it was no secret that he liked to putter around in there most mornings, and Donna had even caught a glimpse of it through the door once when she was a very small child. The archmaster’s study and workshop was on the very top floor of the house, in an attic that had been especially converted so that noise and smells were kept away from the main part of the house. But nobody knew where Simon worked on alchemical matters, or whether he even had a lab of his own. This wasn’t surprising, since as the official secretary of the Order he wasn’t much more than a glorified administrator. Donna had long suspected that Quentin created the job for Simon because of their private relationship.
Around a sharp bend in the tunnel, they suddenly reached the heaviest oak door Donna had ever seen. For a horrible moment she panicked; surely it hadn’t all been for nothing. If the door was locked, would her strength be enough to break it down? It was pretty damn solid-looking, and it could also be magically sealed. At least the nasty stench seemed to be fading—either that or she was just getting used to it.
Donna examined the door and breathed a sigh of relief. There didn’t even appear to be a lock on it. The only thing visible—apart from the black-painted iron handle—was a strange inscription stamped into a plaque hanging at eye level:
OUR WORK BEGINS
IN DARKNESS AND IN DEATH
“Cheery,” Xan noted.
“Yeah, alchemists are a bunch of laughs to hang out with,” Donna said with a heavy sigh.
“Actually,” he replied, “I’d say spending time with you has given me some of the best moments of my life.” His face was totally sincere, but Donna couldn’t help the look she gave him. Did he really think that? Flustered, she said the first thing that came into her head. “Yeah, because I’m so special.”
Xan frowned. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Put yourself down. You shouldn’t do that, Donna.”
She shrugged, uncomfortable having so much focus put on her. “Well, I can’t see how hanging out with me has been too fun. Okay, if you’re going to define ‘fun’ as getting attacked by elves and having to face the worst possible crap that feeds your nightmares, then maybe you’d be right.”
His eyes glinted in the near darkness. “You left out the part where the guy gets to kiss the beautiful girl.”
Donna was glad the light was so faint at this end of the corridor; she didn’t want him to see how much she was blushing. She ignored him and tried the handle, relieved when the knob turned with no resistance.
When they walked into the room beyond, Donna realized that she was finally seeing what a true alchemical laboratory looked like. The room’s contents were the stuff of legend—a near perfect match to the depictions in the textbooks she’d studied under Alma’s watchful eye. And yet it was so much more. This lab was real; there was a feeling of life and work here, a sense that something magical was brewing somewhere in this very room. In comparison, Quentin Frost’s pitiful setup paled into insignificance; it seemed like a kid’s chemistry set. Which was strange, Donna thought, given that Quentin was supposed to be the leader of the Order—the archmaster.
The evidence before her seemed to indicate that Simon Gaunt was a lot more than just an administrator. Maybe he was a real magus, which was pretty much unheard of among modern alchemical Orders. At last, Donna thought, her suspicions about Simon’s behavior over the years had been vindicated. She’d always known there was something shady about the man.
In the center of the large open space ahead of them was a tall, cylindrical brick structure. It was almost as tall as she was, and upon closer inspection Donna saw that it was some sort of a furnace. Xan followed her over to examine the thing. Heat was coming off it in waves, and Donna realized that it was an athanor—an oven which was traditionally kept burning for most of the year.
She gripped Xan’s arm, remembering at the last minute to be gentle. “Now I know what the smoke is!” she said excitedly.
Xan eased his arm away. “What smoke?”
“Oh, sorry.” Donna shook her head slowly and tried to calm down. “The smoke I see all year round in the far corner of the grounds, beyond the garden. We must be directly underneath that part of the estate.”
The Iron Witch Page 16
