She glanced at the Corridor of Dungeons. Which cell were the triplets in? Her stomach knotted. Five days already since they’d been taken! It was tempting to go to them now and tell them about the rescue, but she and Digby had agreed it would be too risky: Under pressure from the Agromonds, any of them—especially Tiny—might talk. She must resist, and wait for Digby in the Vat Room, as they’d planned.
She moved toward the West Corridor, then heard a heartrending cry.
“Help us … help!”
Flora! The terror in her voice jarred through Jemma. Without a second thought, she turned and pelted past Drudge’s sleeping nook, and down the corridor.
“Help us—help!” Two small arms strained through the bars of the littlest dungeon at the end.
“I’m coming! Hold on.” Jemma reached the cell and grasped Flora’s hands. Two boys, one tall, with sandy hair like Digby, the smaller one hugging a worn teddy bear, scrambled to the bars. They thrust their hands through, snatching at Jemma’s clothes.
“You’ve come, you’ve really come!” Their voices jumbled together. “Flora said you would, she said—”
“Tiny, Simon—hello! Yes, yes, I’m here.…” The stench of urine made Jemma reel. Flora, Tiny, and Simon were shivering, fear hollowing their small faces.
“Where’s Digby?” said the taller boy, who Jemma guessed must be Simon.
“He’s coming later,” Jemma said, releasing Flora’s hands. “Tonight. Then we’ll get you out of here. But now, you must listen very carefully. Don’t let anybody know you’ve seen me, or that Digby will be here. If they catch us, we’ll be locked up too, and there’ll be no way for any of us to escape. Do you understand?”
Three heads nodded.
“Now tell me, do they know you’re Goodfellows?”
Three heads shook.
“Good. No matter what, don’t let them know, or they’ll think it’s odd that your pa and Digby didn’t say anything this morning, and will suspect something’s up. Have you got all that?”
“Don’t tell ’em you’re here—” said Simon.
“Or Digby,” added Tiny, putting his thumb in his mouth and clutching his bear.
“And don’t tell ’em we’re Goodfellows,” said Flora, “so’s they don’t suspect.”
“Right.” Jemma glanced around the cell. Her escape hole, of course, had been plastered over. The air was as dank and chilly as when she’d been captive, but there were no blankets or extra clothing to keep the triplets warm. A chamber pot, half-full, was close to the door, and crumbs were scattered in the dust. “Mord take them,” she muttered between clenched teeth, “keeping you all in here—”
“I’m hungry,” Tiny said.
“So am I,” said Flora and Simon in unison. “Can we have some food?”
“Haven’t they fed you?” Jemma was shocked. So much for preparing them!
“The horrid girl said we couldn’t have food,” said Flora. “The smelly old man sometimes brings us bread, though, and some yucky purple stuff to drink.”
“And stew with slimy bits in,” added Simon. “But it makes us feel sick. We haven’t eaten hardly anythin’ since the honeyed bees the nice man gave us. Only he wasn’t so nice.…”
“He said there’d be more,” said Tiny, his thumb-sucking becoming louder, “if we went with him in his shiny carriage. But there wasn’t.” He wiped a tear from one eye with the back of his dust-caked sleeve. “An’ then he brought us here, an’ wouldn’t let us go.”
Jemma’s blood boiled. “Hang on,” she said. “I’ll see if I can find you something.”
She sped back to the kitchen, ears alert as she skittered to the oven and opened the door. There were a few pancakes on a baking tray, still warm. Just then she heard Drudge’s shuffle approaching down the Pickle Corridor, closely followed by keys rattling and the familiar clicking of black patent leather shoes. Shade! Jemma quickly closed the oven door and ducked into Drudge’s sleeping alcove as Shade’s acid voice cut through the air.
“… the little brats, since we must test them for tomorrow’s Ceremony.”
“Gnnnnn …”
Jemma peeked into the kitchen.
“Here,” said Shade, handing Drudge the huge bunch of keys as they appeared. “You unlock them. I’m not going down that corridor if I can help it. It stinks.”
Jemma eyed the chamber pot beneath Drudge’s pallet. How she would love to empty its contents over Shade’s head! But she pulled back, holding her breath as Drudge creaked past. Then she peered into the kitchen again. Shade paced in and out of view between the door frame, muttering to herself.
“Stupid, stupid … accursed girl! If only Mama … me! They’re all so weak.” A clump of plaster fell from the ceiling, narrowly missing the back of her head. “Wretched decay!” She kicked the fallen plaster, which shattered into dust. “It’s all their fault!”
So there was conflict in the Agromond camp! That could be useful … Jemma strained to hear more of Shade’s muted ranting, but it was drowned out by a mishmash of frightened voices drifting up the corridor—“Why? Where are you taking us?” She could just make out Drudge’s silhouette, and three smaller ones being ushered out of the dungeon.
“Gnnnn … You poor child’nnn …”
“But we have to wait here for Jemma!” said Tiny’s voice.
Drudge, Simon, and Flora shushed him in unison.
“Shut up, Tiny!” said Simon. “We promised—”
Jemma’s heart missed a beat. Had Shade heard? But Shade was evidently too intent on her private monologue to have noticed. Jemma pulled back into the shadows as Drudge and the triplets passed by.
“So this is the mealy bunch, is it?” Shade sneered. “Well, I suppose they’ll have to do. We’ll soon find out which is the strongest.” Her heels clicked toward Drudge. “The keys, if you please, Mister Drudge. If you think you can get away with keeping them from me, think again.”
“Gnnnn … aa …”
“And don’t gnnaaaa me, you miserable old bag of bones. I’m running this castle now, and don’t you forget it! See?” Shade rattled the keys at him. “I’m not giving these back to Mama, oh, no! I should have taken them weeks ago, after that lowborn chit escaped. Now, you three, stop trembling, and—” Shade stopped. “Wait a minute, wasn’t there another sack this morning?”
You could have heard a mouse blink.
“Yes …,” Shade said slowly. “The spuds, wasn’t it? What happened to them?”
Jemma’s heart was in her mouth.
“Well, fool, I’m waiting for an explanation!”
“Gnnn … missstake.” Drudge inhaled with a great wheeze. “You, Missss, no like … Boy, came back.”
Clang! The single toll of seven-thirty rang out.
“Is that so? Well, in that case I shall dock their pay for their idiocy in bringing them in the first place. Come, you little squirts. We’re late.”
Finally, Shade was gone, and the triplets with her. Jemma came out of her hiding place.
“Drudge,” she said. “I’m going to follow them.”
Drudge grabbed her arm and shook his head.
“I have to, Drudge! Mord knows what those monsters have in store for them! But I need to get a message to Digby. He’s in the stables. Please, will you go and tell him the plan’s changed? Tell him to wait out there, then I’ll meet him tonight, here in the kitchen. At ten o’clock, after Gordo comes back.”
Drudge nodded. Jemma ran into the Pickle Corridor and toward the stairway in pursuit of the triplets and whatever atrocious ordeal awaited them.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Back in the Fold
The Ceremony Chamber door was closed. Jemma crouched by one of the suits of armor, whose halberd looked perilously ready to fall on her, and listened.
“You three, cease sniveling,” Nocturna said. “This is just a little test.”
“Mama,” said Shade. “Allow me. Here, you!”
“Ow!” Tiny yelped. “My arm … Ooooooow!�
�
“Feeble!” Feo’s voice was deeper than a month ago.
“Shut up, Feo,” said Shade. “Now, boy, what’s this raggy thing you’re clinging onto? Give it to me.”
“No! Give him back—Bruno!”
“Bruno, is it? Aaah, poor ickle thing. Does he like having his arm twisted, I wonder? Oh, dear, it’s come off. Ha ha ha!”
“Noooo!” Tiny started crying. “You’re hurtin’ him!”
“Shade!” Nox’s voice. “Was that entirely necessary?”
“Perhaps you’d like to bungle this whole thing as well, would you, Papa?” Shade’s voice was drenched in disgust. “Hmmph. As I thought. Here, boy, take your stupid Bruno thing. You, other boy. Come here.”
Tentative footsteps. Flames crackling. Jemma heard groans, and panting, then Simon cried out in pain. She clenched her fists.
“Ha!” said Shade. “Both boys are utter weaklings, as I expected. You, girl. Your turn.”
Flora gasped. The boys whimpered. Fury shot through Jemma’s veins. It was all she could do not to intervene—but captured, she’d be in no position to help them.
“Shade,” Nox said, “enough! It’s obvious she’s the strongest one. You don’t need to—”
“Why, Papa? Do you not have the stomach for it?”
Flora screamed. Jemma’s hand leapt to the doorknob, her heart ripping into pieces.
“Stop it!” Tiny cried out. “Jemma—help us, help!”
“Shut up, Tiny!” Flora sobbed. “Shut up!”
“Oh, Jem-mah, is it?” Shade’s voice rippled with danger. “And why would you call for her, may I ask?”
“ ’Cause … ’cause …,” Tiny whimpered, “sh-she’s the Fire One! Flora s-said.”
“Fire One? Ha! Fables and lies! And how could she possibly help you, even if she was here? She has no more Powers now than a dead dormouse!”
“Yes she has! An’ … an’ … she’s not dead, or a d-dormouse. She’s alive, an’ she’s here!”
“Tiny!” Flora yelled. “Shut up!”
“What do you mean, she’s here?” said Shade. “Talk, little blabbermouth! No? Then give me your stupid rag-bear thing. There!” Jemma heard a soft thud, and a fizzling sound.
“Bruno!” Tiny cried. “No! He’s burnin’—you’re killin’ him!”
“You’ll be next, if you don’t talk!”
“Oooow, s-stop h-hurtin’ me! I told you, Jemma’s here, we saw her—”
“It’s not possible!” Shade’s voice was like shards of ice. “She would not have been able to get through the Mist!”
“When did you see her?” said Nocturna.
“Where?” said Feo.
“Feo, you idiot!” Shade snapped. “Where have these brats been, but in the dungeons?”
“Tell us more!” said Nocturna. Jemma heard a slap and clutched the doorknob, trembling with rage.
“There’s nothin’ more to tell,” Flora sobbed. “She jus’ … looked at us … then left.”
“We must search the castle!” Nocturna shouted. “Find her—find Jemma! Jem-maaah!”
Wherever Jemma hid, they were bound to find her now. There was only one thing for it. She rose to her feet and threw open the Ceremony Chamber doors.
Seven fire-lit faces turned to her and froze. Dust motes seemed to halt in mid-air.
“Jemma!” Flora ran to her. “You’re here—”
“Shut up, child.” Jemma mustered her hardest tone. “And don’t paw me like that.”
“But … but …” Flora’s eyes filled with tears. Jemma’s heart squeezed, but she steeled her gaze, clasped Flora’s shoulder, and marched her back into the room.
“Back to your mewling brothers, girl.” Jemma halted by the front pew and shoved Flora toward Tiny and Simon, who sat quivering at the foot of Mordrake’s statue. Rook was perched on Mordrake’s head, as if on guard. To the right of the fireplace, by Mordana’s statue, the four Agromonds stood open-mouthed. Feo and Shade had grown markedly in the past month; Shade was now at least a head taller than Jemma. All of their faces were pinched, and tension crackled between the four of them like water on a red-hot skillet.
Make the most of that, said a voice in her head. Play them against each other. Play on their weaknesses. Keep on the offense.
Jemma pulled herself to her full height and put her hands on her hips.
“Well,” she said, “as you can see, I’m back.”
“Jemma …” Nox took a step toward her, then stopped.
“Your hair!” Feo exclaimed. “It’s so short!”
“What,” said Nocturna as the weasels squirmed around the hem of her dress, “is the meaning of this?”
Shade’s diamond birthmark darkened on her cheek. “It’s a ruse—it must be! How did you get through the Mist and sneak your way in here, you sly cur?”
“I have my ways, Shade,” Jemma said, holding Shade’s stare and hoping fervently that the right words would come to her. “You all believe I have no Powers now, since I didn’t reach Oakstead in time to be Initiated. But I assure you, I do. They will grow to be greater than you ever dreamed—and I’ve brought them in service to you and the great Mord ancestors. Why else do you think the Mist let me through? If I’d come here to oppose you, it would have stopped me. You know that.”
“Well, Jem-mah, if you do have Powers, as you claim,” said Shade, quick as a whip, “then it might be possible for you to get through the Mist, mightn’t it?”
“Quite,” said Nocturna, her eyes narrowing. “Marsh managed, all those years ago. Why should we suppose that you were not trained to get through it, just as she must have been—trained by Marsh herself, even?”
“Ah, yes, Marsh,” Jemma said, seeing her first chance to stir things up between them. She sauntered deliberately to Nocturna, certain that Nocturna wouldn’t be able to resist a jibe at Nox. “I see in your eyes,” she said, “that you thought Marsh was a spy sent by my parents. You were not believed. But you were right.”
“What? You admit it?” Nocturna was taken off guard, then swung around to Nox, scattering the weasels from her hem. “You see? And you denied my suspicions!”
“I admit it,” Jemma barreled on, “because it’s the truth! Marsh was supposed to help me escape. But she couldn’t have helped me through the Mist, because”—she paused for effect—“because she’s dead! I found her in the forest, her flesh ripped to shreds, one hand torn from her.”
Nox and Nocturna exchanged knowing glances.
“The Aukron got her!” Feo’s eyes widened. “Yes! Tell us more, Jemma!”
“There’s so much to tell, Feo, about the days that followed, and my terror of you finding me—that is, until I met my so-called real parents.” She affected a sneer, praying that her thumping heart wasn’t audible. “They’re so weak! And so are their pathetic followers. The Outside is not at all what I thought it would be.… I found that I missed you. You’re what I know … what I am. So, as I was saying, Mama—I may call you Mama, mayn’t I? And Papa?”
Nocturna inhaled, her nostrils flaring. Nox’s head gave an almost imperceptible nod.
“I return with my Gifts. For you—for us! Mama, Papa, just imagine: the crag’s magic restored to it; the wealth that the quarry will bring again; the castle brought back to its former glory—better, even! Together, we can do this, and so much more! If you don’t believe me”—Jemma’s heart was hammering, on the edge of her greatest bluff—“then capture me now!”
She spread out her arms. Nobody moved. “Well?”
Feo beamed. Nox’s eyes crinkled. Shade’s were full of hatred. The triplets looked horrified.
“The crag’s magic restored, you say?” Nocturna stepped up to Jemma, her Eau de Magot perfume like a toxic aura. “And how do you know about the crag and the quarry?”
“My dreams,” Jemma said. “I saw it all. The quarry closing down, the fortune ending—”
“Oh, please! Any fool could have told you that!” Shade pushed her mother aside and shoved her fa
ce inches from Jemma’s. “They might want to believe you,” she hissed, “Papa with his simpering eyes, just look at him! He still can’t take them off you, his dear little Jem-mah. Neither can Feo, mesmerized by a pretty face, if you can call it that. As for Mama, she’s so desperate for Power, she’d believe anything. But you can’t make an ass of me!”
“Are you suggesting, Shade,” Nocturna growled, “that I’m so easily taken in?”
“Well, Mama, she escaped on your watch, if I may remind you—”
“As you have reminded me a thousand times since!”
“I would never have let her go! And as for you, Papa, you always were the biggest fool for her. Who’s to say she’s not tricking you, even now? We should lock her up!”
“You’re just jealous!” Feo said, evidently delighted to be able to take a shot at his twin. “Lock her up? She’s not exactly trying to escape, having walked in under our very noses!”
“You’re all idiots!” Shade stamped her foot. “I’m the only one who sees what she really is!”
“Oh, so we’re all idiots now, are we?” Nocturna shouted. “You insolent child!”
Jemma watched as they continued arguing and pacing, their arms flailing. Jagged, blood-red strands of energy emanated from them, becoming thick and entangled. The weasels took refuge under the front pew. Flora, Simon, and Tiny looked on, their expressions a mixture of fear and disbelief as the bizarre drama unfolded. The chaos couldn’t have worked better if Jemma had planned it. Now, if she could just get some decent food in the triplets’ bellies.…
“She hasn’t changed!” Shade shrieked. “She’s just putting on a damn fine show!”
“And you’re such a good judge, are you?” Nocturna wagged a red-nailed finger at Shade. The wide sleeve of her dress fell back to reveal her alabaster-white wrist. Shade grabbed it.
“Better than you, Mama!” she said, twisting Nocturna’s arm.
“Ow!” said Nocturna. “Unhand me, you fiendish child!”
“Caw!” Rook, perched on Mordrake’s head, fluffed up his feathers, his jet eyes piercing Shade with malice. “Caw caaaAAW!”
The triplets shrank back. But Nocturna’s precious bird had given Jemma an idea.
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