‘We had each other,’ Isabella replied.
‘But that’s just it, you’re children, you’re not supposed to be the ones doing the looking after.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘And now here’s Aleksander taking care of you too.’
‘I’m enjoying it,’ he said. ‘It’s a big house and it’s only until the police finish their investigations.’
‘The police?’
Aleksander sent Isabella an apologetic look. ‘They … I …’
‘It’s my fault.’ Jeremiah lowered his fork. His voice was scratchy and he sounded tired. ‘Until recently, I worked at the Bureau of Weather. Some people were unhappy about our work.’
‘And?’ Isabella’s mum asked, waiting for the full story.
‘Our house was paint bombed.’
‘Because of you, Mr Pain?’
‘No.’ Griffin’s temper flared. ‘Jeremiah’s a brilliant scientist and –’
‘The children were safe,’ Jeremiah assured her. ‘They left as soon as they could.’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Pain, but it doesn’t sound very safe. You’re meant to be their guardian and yet it seems to me that being with you put them in danger.’
Griffin silently fumed as he watched Jeremiah sink further into his chair.
‘Would anyone like more juice?’ Maxwell held a jug aloft and as he poured, Griffin couldn’t help but notice the smallest of smiles creep into his usually stony face.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
A Fateful Decision
Griffin lay in bed, long after the dinner was over.
Maxwell had served a chocolate mousse cake lit with fizzing candles and Aleksander gave a speech about how wonderful it was to celebrate Isabella and her mum being back together.
Isabella’s mum told more stories, but with each one, Griffin couldn’t help think she’d rehearsed them. Or made them up.
But what bothered him most was that she forgot Almaric’s name.
It left him with a small knot of fear in his stomach.
Throughout it all, Jeremiah had sat in miserable silence. After leaving his dessert untouched, he offered a muttered excuse and left. Griffin kept seeing him lift his hand in a weak goodbye and shuffle into the dark, snowy evening. His back hunched over as he climbed into the Armavan, as if he was carrying an invisible, staggering weight.
Griffin slipped out of bed and into the hall. It was dark apart from a faint light coming from Isabella’s room.
He knocked quietly, so he wouldn’t wake the others. Isabella answered, ‘Come in.’
Sitting up in bed, she held the three photographs. She slid over but Griffin perched instead on the end. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Good, I think. There’s a lot to take in.’
He peeked at each photo. ‘Is she how you imagined?’
‘In some ways. I always thought she’d be an artist or designer, not a mountain climber.’
Griffin knew he had to tread carefully. ‘It is odd. She was scared of heights when we were kids.’
‘Was she?’
‘You don’t remember when she rode the Ferris wheel at the Harrowgate Fair? She was screaming so loudly, they had to stop the ride.’
Isabella shrugged. ‘I guess she grew out of it.’
Griffin’s heart thudded. He felt as if he was stepping onto melting ice. ‘Did you ever talk to Aleksander about your mum?’
‘He asked about her.’
‘And did you mention your Saturdays together?’
‘Yes,’ she said with a laugh. ‘Why all the questions?’
‘It’s curious that after all these years, your mum remembered what you ate as a kid.’
‘Why wouldn’t she? You heard her, it was her favourite time of the week.’
Griffin stared at his fingers, which twisted in his lap. ‘You don’t think it’s strange she’s shown up now?’
‘No.’ Isabella eyed him carefully. ‘Why should I?’
‘You’ve had your information with the archives for over a year.’
‘Which I recently updated.’
‘And they suddenly found her.’
‘What are you saying, Griffin?’
‘That maybe it’s a bit coincidental they found her now.’
‘Our DNA matched,’ she snapped. ‘There’s nothing coincidental about it.’
‘Something doesn’t feel right.’
‘How can it? We haven’t seen her in years. We were little kids when she left.’
‘What about how she treated Jeremiah?’
‘She didn’t mean it, she’s worried about me.’
Griffin’s skin goosebumped with anger. ‘Jeremiah is one of the few adults we can trust and you didn’t stand up for him.’
‘My mum was right.’ Isabella frowned. ‘I know Jeremiah loves us, but it was because of him we were attacked.’
‘How can you say that?’
‘Because it’s true. Why can’t you be happy for me, like Aleksander?’
The flash of anger in her eyes felt like a blow to his chest. He looked away and noticed the wind-up toy on the bedside table. The one Aleksander had given her. He wasn’t sure why, but seeing it there made him furious.
‘I am happy for you but I don’t want you to get hurt.’
‘Why would I get hurt?’
Griffin took a deep breath, knowing what he was about to say might ruin everything. ‘On the way to dinner, your mum and I were talking about your dad and she called him the wrong name.’
Isabella froze. ‘You must have misheard.’
‘She said Alaric instead of Almaric.’
‘It was a long time ago, it’s natural she might get confused.’
‘About your dad’s name?’ Griffin had had enough of tiptoeing around. ‘What if it isn’t her?’
‘What?’ she spluttered. ‘You think she’s pretending to be my mum? Why would someone do that?’
‘That’s what I’ve been trying to work out.’
Isabella sat forward. ‘What if there’s nothing to work out? What if, after all these years, my mum has come back? What if it’s as simple as that?’
‘And what if it isn’t?’ Griffin raised his voice and instantly regretted it.
‘I’m going to sleep.’ Isabella turned away and slipped beneath the covers. ‘You can shut the door on your way out.’
Griffin stood up, angry with himself that their talk had ended so badly. He and Isabella rarely fought and the few times they had, Griffin felt as if the world had been tipped off kilter. Just before he closed the door, he looked back, wanting to make everything right, but she’d pulled the blankets tightly around her.
‘Is everything okay?’ Aleksander was in the hallway. ‘I heard shouting.’
‘Everything’s fine,’ Griffin snapped.
Seeing Aleksander reminded him of Isabella’s words. Why can’t you be happy for me, like Aleksander?
‘Sorry, I wanted to make sure you were all right. It sounded pretty rough.’
‘I said I’m fine.’ Griffin knew he was being unfair but he didn’t care.
‘You and Isabella have been friends for years.’
‘Since we were born,’ he said defiantly.
‘It’s normal to fight sometimes.’
‘Not for us.’
Aleksander put his hand on Griffin’s shoulder. ‘It’s going to be hard on Isabella for a while, especially after the years she’s lost with her mum. She needs our support.’
Griffin felt a fury rise in his chest. He’d spent his life standing by Isabella and here was Aleksander, telling him how to be a good friend. He slapped his arm away and was about to let him have it, when he heard a small voice drift down the hall.
‘Griffin?’
A sleepy Raffy stood behind him, clinging to a blanket. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘No,’ he said, forcing a smile. His hand stung where he’d hit Aleksander. ‘We were just saying goodnight.’
Bea joined her brother and they both seemed unconvinced.
Grif
fin glanced at Aleksander, warning him not to say anything, before turning back to the twins. ‘How about I read some more of our book?’
He ushered them to their room and looked over his shoulder to see Maxwell appear holding a tray of hot drinks and biscuits. Aleksander knocked on Isabella’s door and they disappeared inside.
Once the twins had nestled into bed, Griffin picked up the book when Raffy said, ‘It’s happening again, isn’t it? We’re going to be separated.’
‘We’ll go home soon,’ Griffin said with as much confidence as he could gather.
‘I miss being together like we were in Grimsdon, with no adults messing everything up.’ His face was wet with tears. ‘Don’t you miss it too, even a little?’
Griffin knew he shouldn’t, but tonight he didn’t feel like pretending. ‘I miss the library and the greenhouse.’
‘I miss our dinners,’ Bea said. ‘When we dressed up and pretended to be the royal family.’
‘I miss the Velocraft and the Aerotrope,’ Raffy added. ‘And Herman.’
Griffin shivered at the thought of the hulking sea monster. ‘Maybe not Herman. But I’m glad we found you both. Grimsdon wouldn’t have been the same without you.’
‘We are pretty special.’ Bea nudged her brother. ‘The best family there is.’
‘But Isabella’s mum said we’re not –’
‘She doesn’t know us.’ Griffin tried to keep the anger from his voice. ‘Once she does she’ll understand that she was wrong.’
Raffy grew serious. ‘Do you think Isabella will move to Switzerland?’
Being apart from Isabella was the one thing that terrified Griffin the most and he hoped his fear didn’t show on his face.
‘And leave us? Never. No matter what happens, Isabella will always be in our lives.’ He raised the book. ‘Now where were we?’
He started reading. He said the words out loud but didn’t take in a thing; instead he wondered if Isabella was going to leave and if it would be all his fault.
With the house long settled into sleep, a darkened figure snuck into the room. Standing in the shadows, he listened for the slow, rhythmic breathing of deep sleep. He took a small object from the bedside table and tucked it into his pocket.
Peeling off the blankets, he lifted the body easily, as if it weighed nothing.
After a final check of the corridor, he made his escape: down the stairs, into the foyer and out into the yard.
The night was silent. Flecks of snow swirled around them. He stole away from the house, far enough that the sound of the Armavan wouldn’t wake the others.
Once inside, he closed the door and drove away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A Terrible Discovery
Griffin woke with the sensation of being trapped. Of being pinned down and held against his will.
The room was dark and he found it hard to breathe. He began to panic until he realised his book was on his face and the arms and legs of Bea and Raffy were slung across him at all angles.
He’d barely slept and when he did, he had nightmares of fighting with Isabella, of her leaving. But the worst one was of Isabella falling, of Griffin trying to catch her and being too late.
Trying not to wake the twins, he untangled himself and sat on the edge of the bed.
He needed to apologise to Isabella. And to Aleksander for slapping his hand. As much as he hated to admit it, maybe he was right. Maybe Griffin should be more supportive of her. Maybe there was nothing suspicious about forgetting the name of someone you hadn’t seen in years, and he was worrying as usual when there was nothing to worry about.
He crept outside towards Isabella’s room and knocked. When she didn’t answer, he felt a stab of guilt and knocked again. ‘Isabella?’
‘She’s gone.’
Griffin spun round to see Maxwell standing uncomfortably close. He’d never noticed the dead look in the man’s eyes before.
Griffin stepped back. ‘Gone where?’
‘On holiday with her mother.’
‘Where to?’
‘She didn’t say. It was a surprise.’
‘When did she leave?’
‘An Armavan came for her early this morning.’ Griffin turned to see Aleksander climbing the stairs and holding a piece of toast. ‘It’s all in her note. She didn’t leave you one?’
Griffin felt as if the floor shifted. ‘No,’ he muttered. ‘Can I see it?’
Aleksander took it from his pocket. It was true. She’d gone away with her mum and wasn’t sure when she’d be back.
‘Why didn’t anyone wake me?’
‘Isabella didn’t want to disturb you.’
‘I think it’s sweet.’ Aleksander waved his toast. ‘They can spend time getting to know each other again.’
‘Breakfast is ready.’ Maxwell said in a lifeless drone before heading down the hall.
‘Brilliant.’ Aleksander beamed. ‘Maxwell has made pancakes. See you downstairs.’
Griffin was left alone, shivering in his pyjamas and bare feet, feeling as if the world was off kilter.
Isabella struggled to open her eyes. She’d never felt so tired, as if she could sleep for weeks.
When she tried to sit up, she realised she was on the floor. She sighed. It wasn’t the first time a nightmare had sent her tumbling out of bed.
Only this time was different. When she reached for the blankets, there were none. Dressed in pyjamas, she shivered in the chilled breeze that snaked through the room.
Everything was blurry. She rubbed her eyes, but that didn’t help. The room was full of vague odd-shaped silhouettes. She squinted against the dim light, falling in waves through the windows.
‘Hello?’ Her mouth was dry and her voice scratchy.
Pushing herself up, she felt something hard – her weather detector. The screen was cracked. She pressed the home button, but it was dead.
‘Griffin?’ Her voice rose in a hoarse cry. ‘Bea? Raffy?’
Her body felt heavy. She dragged herself to her feet but lost her balance and stumbled into a cabinet. Holding on tight, she fought back an overwhelming urge to be sick.
After a few steadying breaths, she felt her way along a wall towards the light. The floor was cold and damp and peppered with grit. Reaching a bay window, Isabella climbed onto the frayed cushions. The glass was missing and a wintry wind blustered.
Drawing aside the tattered curtains, she blinked a few more times, which helped her see more clearly and she realised where she was.
The ruined buildings, the sunken bridges and the blue-grey water which stretched to the horizon.
She was in Grimsdon.
In the Palace.
The home they’d lived in for three years.
She sank to her knees and shut her eyes tight. It couldn’t be true.
To check this wasn’t another nightmare, she hit her arm against the windowsill. The pain stung. It was real.
The bay window was where Fly once slept and drew in her sketchbooks, but the brightly coloured cushions were faded and torn, and the ledge was buckled from the rain.
Isabella turned slowly towards the room. She could just make out the spiralling staircase and the curved walls cracked and streaked with mould. The roof sagged and the floorboards were warped where the rain had poured in.
But there was something else.
In the centre of the dining table, stabbed into the dusty wooden surface, was the sword Isabella had used in Grimsdon, along with the wind-up toy Aleksander had given her. Beside these was a tablet.
It was only now Isabella realised she might not be alone.
Keeping her back to the window, she took a broken piece of glass from the floor, in case anyone decided to make a sudden appearance, and stepped gingerly towards the table.
The sword pierced a note, which read:
You have one new message
She pressed the home button on the tablet and flinched.
A bluish glowing hologram of a man appeared, hovering abo
ve the device.
A man she thought she’d seen the last of one year ago.
Her knees buckled and she gripped a chair to stop herself from falling. ‘It can’t be,’ she whispered.
It was Sneddon.
The wild and grubby man with a mess of tangled black locks now had a silver beard and hair swept back in a stylish wave. Wearing black-rimmed glasses, a suit and scarf, he looked more like a well-groomed bank manager than a calculating, murderous bully.
As she reached over to press play, she had the sensation of plunging her hand into a wasp nest.
The hologram flickered to life. Sneddon sat in a throne-like chair with the overblown manner of a king.
‘Dearest Isabella, sorry we couldn’t meet in person but I thought this hologram recording of me would be the next best thing. How do I look?’
He adjusted his scarf and toyed with his fringe, as if checking himself in a mirror.
‘It took me a while to get used to the glasses but they make me look distinguished. Don’t you think?’
Isabella could barely breathe. She felt trapped, as if the room was closing in on all sides.
‘Please accept my deepest apologies for your situation. I can only guess at how distressing it must be without your little friends.’
He stuck his bottom lip out in mock sadness.
‘You always were so fond of each other, but you’ll understand that after what you all did to me, it was right that I have my revenge.’
He let the word linger between them.
‘I’d worked for years gathering riches to pave my way back into civilised society and in one afternoon you tried to take it from me. You attacked my ship and left me for dead with those monstrous creatures.’
His lip curled up in disgust.
‘But, as you can see, I’m back and this time, there’s nothing you can do about it. Your scheme to destroy everything I had failed, and now it is my turn to destroy you. Your home and friends are far away and thanks to the skills of a very fine actress, no one is looking for you because they think you’re on holiday with your mother. By the time they discover the truth, you will be no more.’
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