by Amy Ephron
It took all of Max’s strength to pull her to a standing position—he wasn’t sure he was getting any help from William, who seemed to have no strength left at all. Tess stood steady on her feet even though the images around her were still a little blurry.
Now the ground beneath them was doing something strange, as well. The rocks were bleeding rivulets of red sand. There were tiny geysers, as if the earth itself was bubbling, the way a volcano does before it starts to erupt. There were large plumes of steam coming up from between the rocks. And it was as if the rocks themselves were melting and erupting up from the ground, morphing, turning into creatures—or what Tess imagined were creatures—a gryphon? She couldn’t remember what a gryphon was, but then the image changed to something like a lizard that opened its large, triangular jaw, or was it an alligator with the body of a bear? Tess pulled Max away from the hot breath of the imagined creature. Or were they imagined?
“The Morphons,” William said unprompted. “Don’t look at them. Be careful not to look at them.”
There was something with the neck of a giraffe with a body that looked like the shell of a snail. The thin body of a fawn with the large shoulders and trunk of an elephant, and then it changed into the royal head of a lion . . . the images were confused, distorted. Nothing about the creatures was constant and yet Tess felt that any moment, they could band together, turn into a herd, and simply . . .
“Just look at each other,” William said. “Just look . . .” His voice got fainter.
“Max, help me with William.”
“I’m not sure he’s the only one who needs help,” said Max.
“We’ll worry about me later,” said Tess. William was so pale. He looked as if he could barely stand. They lifted him between them and put his foot in the stirrup. Max had to lift and push William’s leg over the saddle to the other side, as if he was a doll, and run around to catch him, as he was, then, quite in danger of falling over.
Max jumped up onto the horse behind William and wrapped his arms around William’s waist.
Tess put her foot in the stirrup, but something pulled her back to the ground, something that didn’t feel like gravity, at all.
She put her foot back in the stirrup and, with all the strength she had, pulled herself up, hoisted herself on the horse in front of William and Max. “Hold on to me, William.” She felt his weak hands clasp around her waist. She reached down and touched his hand, it was so cold.
The creatures below in the ground seemed to be grabbing up for them, trying to catch a hold of their legs and feet or, more frightening still, catch them in a stare.
“Don’t look,” said William, his voice barely a whisper. There were faces now below them in the rocks, the creatures all had faces. “Don’t look. If you look at them, they’ll try to steal your soul.” Tess didn’t even want to think about what that meant. But Max was mesmerized.
Tess turned and saw him staring at a creature that, at first, looked like a seal and then morphed into something more human-like. There was fire in its eyes, its jaw started to define itself, and limbs appeared with claw-like hands. Its features started to resemble Max’s.
“You’ll forgive me for this, one day,” said Tess, and she reached around William and slapped Max straight across the face as hard as she could to try to break his stare. “I’m sorry, Max, I’m sorry,” she said as Max snapped out of it and held his hand up to his cheek.
Tess heard her father’s voice in her head. If you get lost . . . try to get back to where you started, if you can . . .
She leaned in and took hold of the reins. She whispered in the horse’s ear, “Don’t think about it. You simply have to run. Run and then jump.”
Like a cold bath of ice, the air hit them as they started to race forward. William whispering to all of them, “Don’t look down.”
Beneath the horses’ hooves, the rocks were pulverizing, turning into sand, red sand, but sand with a hot breath that seemed to lap at their heels . . . and morph, morph into creatures that wanted their very breath.
“Pretend it’s a desert,” she whispered in the horse’s ear again. “You can do that, can’t you? That we’re somewhere on the Arabian Peninsula where your grandfather used to run . . . run, Midnight, run. Hold on to me, Max, hold on to William.”
She reached down to touch the key in her boot. She shut her eyes and made a wish, silently, to herself. It was the same wish she’d made before in the abandoned merry-go-round shell. Please, please, bring us all home safely and let us be reunited with the ones we love. That’s my wish. That’s always been my wish.
~ CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR ~
trying to get back to where they started...
It felt as if there was a blast of hot air behind them, chasing them, trying to sweep them up, swallow them, in its heat. Tess turned and saw what looked like the shape of a dragon, or was it a dinosaur shooting fire from its jaws? Don’t look at it. Don’t look at it. Don’t let its eyes grab yours. She turned away and kicked Midnight sharply with her heels.
The only sightline was the wall of mist directly in front of them, impossible to see through, like a wall of fog. They were gaining speed as Midnight raced toward what appeared to be nothingness—nothingness nothingness nothingness—a bit like the invisible wall Tess had encountered when she’d first tried to enter the garden. She wanted to stop but the roar of the creature behind them indicated it was clearly gaining speed. As they hurtled forward at breakneck speed, Tess hoped that, somewhere there, it was really the back-side of the hedge of hawthorn trees, even though they couldn’t see it. And that Midnight would sense that it was there.
If you get lost, try to get back to where you started.
Midnight jumped, almost as if he were sailing into the air. It went on for the longest time, as if they were moving again in slow motion, or time capture, or something odd, that didn’t have to do with the way time usually worked. It was as if Tess could see and feel each frame of their movement and then time sped up again, or was it just her heart that was racing, as she felt them descend and land and the stallion continued running. Everything was a blur around them, a fog of mist so heavy that it was all that she could see.
She shut her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, the fog seemed to be swirling in a kaleidoscope of color, catching the rays of the moon, which was white now, white and full, like the night sky when it was normal. She heard Marie laugh, that laugh that sounded like a bell, and nothing had ever sounded so pure or reassuring before. She felt arms around her and heard Barnaby’s voice. “You’re safe now, M’Lady,” he said as he lifted her down from the horse. Max was beside her, holding on to her waist, his head on her shoulder, as if he’d quite reverted to being a little boy. And there was William being held so closely by Marie. All the color had returned to both of their faces.
Marie was laughing and there were tears streaming down her face. Their mother did that sometimes, too—laughed so hard at something one of them did that she would cry. But in this case, Tess didn’t know if the laughter came before the tears or if it was the other way around.
The gentleman who’d helped her at the stable was standing next to Marie and William. He looked strong and elegant and noble. And he was hugging both Marie and William.
William was holding on to him, too. “Papa, you’re home,” he said. “I didn’t know if you were ever coming home.”
The gentleman smiled and said softly, “I could say the same thing about you.”
Tess realized it was William’s father and that he had finally come home. She realized she was crying, but they were tears of joy and relief.
She couldn’t help but wonder how Marie fit in. There was something odd about the way they were holding one another. There was more than affection for Marie in William’s father’s eyes.
“Papa, you’ve finally come home,” William said again. He was still holding on to his father as if he n
ever wanted to let go.
Tess realized she would probably feel the same way if she could see her father right now.
Barnaby was tending the horse’s right hoof, which was cut and bleeding. “Is Midnight okay?” Tess asked.
“Midnight, huh? I see you’ve named him, then. Ornery stallion but admirable. His leg’s not broken, at least,” said Barnaby, “which I regard as something of a miracle. His hooves are charred, though. The whole lot of you’s lucky, if you ask me.”
“I don’t think anything’s broken,” said Tess. “Although I still do have a bit of a headache.”
She realized William was introducing her to his father. “Yes, Sir, pleased to meet you,” she managed as she extended her right hand out to his.
“We met for a moment,” he said, “at the stable, but we didn’t have time for proper hellos. Have you always been so brave?” he asked her.
“My father would say,” she answered truthfully, “that I don’t think long enough to be afraid. I just act instantly.”
William’s father laughed but then added, “Well, I would say, you’re very brave. And I would also say, ‘thank you’.”
Tess wanted to explain that she hadn’t been brave at all, that it had been instinct—she couldn’t lose Max or William.
“It’s terribly late,” said Barnaby. “I’m surprised that your aunt hasn’t come after you yet . . . She could be half hysterical.”
“Her name is Evie,” said Max.
“I know her name,” said Barnaby. “I just hope she still wants to know mine. I’ll take you home right now,” he said.
Tess stopped to hug Marie, who whispered in her ear, “Always be the way you are, dear. Always be the way you are.” It was just a half whisper but her voice was as clear as if she were speaking through a microphone. There was something odd about it, as if it was the sort of thing one would say if they weren’t going to see you again or were sending you off on a journey. Tess knew they were words she would always remember, as she would remember every moment of that night, as if it were etched in glass.
Her memory would include the moment when William took her hand as they were walking through the house to the big front door that led to the drawbridge. As he was about to open the door, he said, “Wait, wait here,” and ran up the big flight of stairs.
Max had already gone outside. Tess waited. She took one last look into the dining room. The lights had been dimmed and everything appeared completely normal. William came back down the stairs, holding something carefully in his arms. It was the antique porcelain doll that he told her his grandfather had given to him and that had been his mother’s. “I want you to have it,” he said.
Tess shook her head. “I couldn’t take it,” she said. “It wouldn’t be right—it was your mom’s.”
“No,” he insisted, “it would be right. I think she would want you to have it, too.” He’d affixed the doll to the wooden base. “You remember how it works, don’t you? Just wind it up . . .”
She held the doll carefully in her arms. It was extraordinary how life-like and delicate the face was, each strand of its hair so carefully framed around the face, the eyelashes seemed almost to be real. “I’ll take good care of her,” said Tess. “Thank you.”
Barnaby had brought the buggy around and two ginger-colored horses were harnessed to it, looking quite frisky and ready to go. They had bells around their necks so people would know they were coming in the darkness. “Midnight’s resting,” he said to Tess, as if he anticipated her question.
And then William hugged her, and she felt his lips slightly graze her neck as he whispered in her ear. “Keep the key,” he said, “you never know when you might need it.”
~ CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE ~
sometimes wishes do come true
Should I come in, M’Lady, and try to explain?” Barnaby asked Tess when they pulled up and saw Aunt Evie’s Bentley parked in the driveway.
Max answered him immediately, “Oh, no. That would only make things worse.”
“Seeing as how she sees you as a responsible adult,” Tess explained, “she’d probably yell at you. She won’t be mad at us,” Tess added. “She’ll just be glad we’re home.”
Aunt Evie hadn’t even noticed that the children weren’t home. She had only just arrived herself. She’d assumed they were upstairs sleeping in their beds.
Tess and Max tiptoed in the front door so as not to wake Aunt Evie, who they assumed might be asleep in her bed. Tess set the doll on the front table and they heard noises in the kitchen.
Aunt Evie had not gone to play poker at the White Horse. She’d had her own version of an adventure involving the train station and what would be a very big surprise for the children.
“I think we should wake them up,” a man’s voice said. It sounded so familiar, booming through the house. The kind of voice that tends to narrate things, give one reassurance, speak in declarative sentences, as if he is quite certain about everything he says.
“Daddy!” Tess screamed. She’d recognize his voice anywhere. “Daddy . . .”
She and Max both raced toward the kitchen. And there he was, looking somewhat thinner than the last time they’d seen him. His face was tanned from the desert sun. At the first glimpse of them, he broke into a smile, that smile he had that wasn’t like anyone else’s. Tess threw her arms around him and threw herself into his lap, the way she used to when she was little. Max went right behind him and wrapped his arms around his father’s neck, throwing his head onto his father’s shoulder as he did it. And they were together again. He was home. He was safe. Tess’s wishes had come true. She realized her wish had come true for William, too.
Their father had a sat phone. That was short for satellite, and it worked anywhere, even when there wasn’t local cell service. They immediately turned the Skype feature on and called their mom in New York. They all crowded into the tiny screen, Tess, Max, their dad, and Aunt Evie. “Hello,” they shouted, pretending they were calling from outer space.
“I love you, Mommy,” said Tess, all of her toughness disappearing in that moment.
It was only Aunt Evie who noticed that her sister looked awfully thin and pale.
“Dad’s fine,” said Tess before their mother could ask anything.
Their mother laughed, “I was about to ask him about you two.”
“We’re fine,” said Tess.
“We are,” said Max, “we even talk to each other sometimes now.” Their mother laughed again, which confused Max, who was so literal, he didn’t realize he’d said something funny.
“We’ll see you in two days,” their father said. “I love you.”
~ CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX ~
the curious story of the castle in the mist
Sunday was a blur of laughter, packing, dinosaur pancakes (their dad’s specialty), and trying to persuade Aunt Evie to come back to the States with them and spend a few weeks at their house on Long Island. Aunt Evie agreed to come but not until the end of August. It was only the first of July.
Neither Max nor Tess could stop smiling. They were going home. And, on top of that, they weren’t going back to boarding school in September, which Tess was equally thrilled about. She and Max were going to go back to the Country Day School in Greenwich Village—the little school they’d gone to since kindergarten with the friends they’d had since they were little and their mother always just a few blocks away. For the first time, Tess truly understood why being happy was something that could make you cry.
On Monday morning at 9:00 A.M., there was a knock at Aunt Evie’s door. A driver in a uniform and cap was at the door and a sedate black sedan was parked at the curb. The network had sent him to drive them to Heathrow Airport.
They couldn’t thank Aunt Evie enough. Even Max threw his arms around her neck and kissed her cheek. Aunt Evie suddenly realized how quiet the house was going to be without them, whi
ch was both the good news and the bad.
“G’wan,” she said, “g’wan. Get outta here. I’ll see you both in a couple of weeks.”
When the door shut to the car and the driver started the engine, Tess asked if they could just run up the road and say good-bye to William. “Could we, Daddy? Please. Is there time? He won’t understand what’s happened to us if we don’t say good-bye.”
“Is there time?” their father asked the driver.
“Yes, Sir. Quite a bit of time, it only takes two hours and you have five hours before your plane. I assumed you might want to stop for a sandwich, one last cup of tea.”
“That, too, if there’s time,” said their father. “But do you know where it is, Tess?”
“Yes, of course I do. Can you just drive up the road? How far do you think it is, Max?”
“Not more than a mile, I don’t think.”
It was more than a mile, although in England they called them kilometers. It was almost three miles (or rather, 4.8 kilometers) up the road and Tess thought for a moment, perhaps, they’d driven the wrong direction. But then they saw the gates that enclosed the castle and the unmistakable planks of the drawbridge.
Tess almost squealed. “Come on, Dad. Come with us. They’ll want to meet you, too!”
She scrambled out of the car and went to ring the bell, but something stopped her. “Look, Max.”
There was a plaque by the gate:
BRAMSFIELD CASTLE
MUSEUM HOURS:
Tuesday—Saturday
10 A.M.—6 P.M.
Once in a blue moon—open till midnight
“That’s an odd sign,” their father said instantly. “Do you think that means they sometimes rent it out for parties?” Tess and Max exchanged a look.
