13 Secrets

by Michelle Harrison

  “Relax,” said Rowan. “We got something.”

  Sparrow sat, rubbing at his tummy. He looked uncomfortable.

  “Been having yourself a little tea party, have you?” Rowan asked as she, Tanya, and Fabian took the empty seats at the table. She tucked a rucksack holding the fox-skin coat under her chair.

  Sparrow hiccupped. “Never had much choice,” he said in a low voice. “I been here since it opened, and it’s pretty obvious that on days like this you’re expected to empty your wallet if you’re keeping other people off the table.”

  “And of all the places in Tickey End you managed to choose my favorite,” Rowan said sarcastically. “The gossip hub of the town.”

  Sparrow shrugged and nodded across the street. “Like I said, not much choice. This is the best view of the Spiral Staircase, and the least obvious for me to keep watch from.” He stopped speaking as fluffy-haired Rosie Beak came out and leaned over the table to collect the empties.

  “Anything more for you, duck?” she asked Sparrow. Her voice was as sugary as the cakes in her window, but there was an underlying current to it such that they all knew she wanted them gone if the purse strings had been tightened.

  Sparrow shook his head and suppressed a burp. He looked at Rowan helplessly, and she realized that if he ate or drank any more he was likely to burst, or be sick at the very least.

  Rosie glanced around the table, her candyfloss hair bobbing. “Oh, and now your little friends have joined you,” she said pointedly. Her eyes lingered on Rowan. “Don’t I know your face?”

  “Of course,” said Rowan, smiling angelically. “I was in here just last week, don’t you remember?”

  “Me too,” said Fabian before Rosie could answer. “I gave you a ten-pound note and you tried to give me the change of a fiver. Does that ring a bell?” His deliberately loud voice attracted the attention of the people nearby. Rosie looked shocked, then decidedly annoyed.

  “Can’t say I remember, dear,” she trilled, piling her tray with crocks and scuttling inside with a backward glare at Fabian.

  “She didn’t really shortchange you, did she?” Tanya asked.

  Fabian grinned wickedly. “Nope. But it got rid of her, didn’t it?”

  “Don’t count on it,” said Rowan, grumpy now. “The old magpie will soon be back, trying to peck money out of us with that greedy beak of hers.” She glanced through the door into the shop, past a red-faced Rosie, to the teapot clock on the wall. “We need to figure out how to get that potion to Jack—I think we need to stay here a bit longer, so we’d better order something.”

  Sparrow’s eyes widened in alarm. “I can’t fit nothing else in. But you lot have something, go on. Have what you like. Tino’s paying.”

  Fabian dived on the menu. “Strawberries and cream milkshake,” he said. “And a piece of shortbread.” Remembering his manners he quickly added, “Please.”

  “I’ll have some lemonade,” said Tanya, peering over Fabian’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

  “Nothing for me,” said Rowan. She felt nervous, and Tanya seemed unusually subdued, which wasn’t helping. “Go inside and order, will you? I don’t want to see that old busybody any more than I have to today.”

  Fabian and Tanya got up with a scraping of chairs and went inside.

  “Where’s Suki?” Rowan asked.

  “Ain’t seen her for a while,” Sparrow replied. “She’s scouting round the town, trying to sniff out any place the mother might be hidden. She’s had no luck so far.” He leaned back in his chair, fidgeting. “So what exactly did you get, and who gave it to you?”

  “It’s a truth spell,” Rowan said, leaning close to keep their conversation private. The lemony scent of Sparrow’s newly-washed hair swept over her again, and she found herself appraising him without really meaning to. He looked so very different. “Not as strong as something to do away with glamour, but all we could get at such short notice. There’s an old gypsy woman living in the woods—I daresay Fix would have known of her. Anyway, she’s helped Tanya out a few times. We can trust her.”

  “Good,” said Sparrow. He looked relieved. “Good.” He turned to check that Tanya and Fabian were inside. “Did you tell them two? About Fix, like?”

  “Yes,” said Rowan. “I had to. They need to know exactly what they’re involved in. Whatever that is. Have you told Tino?”

  “Suki had already done it by the time I got back last night,” said Sparrow. “Tino’s getting word out to the rest. Said we all need to be vigilant, which I’d figured out by now, anyway.”

  “What did he think happened?” Rowan asked. “Does he think that… that someone else was responsible?”

  “Too right he does.” Emotion leaked into Sparrow’s voice. “He knows as well as I do that Fix wouldn’t have knowingly taken poison.”

  “Why does Suki believe the opposite, then?”

  He shrugged. “She never knew Fix that well. She hadn’t worked with her as often as the rest of us.” He sighed and scratched at his head. Rowan watched. Sparrow was so used to his greasy scalp itching that the action had become a habit.

  Tanya and Fabian came back to the table and sat down.

  “Who’s got the what’s-it?” Sparrow asked.

  “What what’s-it?” said Fabian.

  “The potion,” Rowan said through gritted teeth, looking around warily. “Tanya’s got it.”

  “It’s in my pocket,” said Tanya. “The bottle is pretty small.”

  “All right,” said Sparrow. “Leave it there for now. We all need to think about how we’re going to get that bottle to Jack.”

  “No need.” Suki arrived at the table to catch the end of his sentence. She took a chair from a nearby table and pulled it over to them. “You managed to get something, then?”

  Sparrow nodded. “I didn’t think we would, but we had a stroke of luck.” He quickly explained the nature of the spell to Suki, along with their source.

  “You said you had an idea to get the bottle to Jack,” Rowan prompted. “What is it?”

  “Jack managed to get a message to me this morning just after I dropped off the instructions with the delivery. He put a note in a bottle and dropped it out through a window at the side—I just caught it before it smashed. He says he sometimes helps to collect glasses at the end of the lunchtime shift, around three o’clock. We wait until Jack comes outside to collect any glasses from the tables, then one of us can walk over and ask him for directions, giving him the bottle to pocket and take back upstairs. We then go ahead with the rest as planned.”

  “We’ve still got a while, then,” said Rowan. “About half an hour.”

  They all turned to look at the Spiral Staircase. It was a crooked little pub, all white walls and dark beams, and the roof sloped forward into the street, giving it an unstable look. Like Mrs. Beak’s, wooden tables were lined up outside, some with umbrellas, and a leafy archway to the side of the door led to a back garden with yet more tables.

  “Where’s the staircase, then?” asked Sparrow.

  “Inside,” Fabian answered. “It leads up to a gallery on the first floor that overlooks the stage when they have bands playing. Cast iron, it is.”

  “Shame it’s in the public part of the place, and not used by the family,” said Sparrow. “The changeling would never have got past the stairs, what with it being iron.”

  They watched the building in silence. Jack’s father was clearly visible through the windows, drying glasses behind the bar.

  “So this gypsy woman,” said Suki. “She lives in Hangman’s Wood? Whereabouts?”

  “In a caravan,” said Tanya. “It’s near the brook, past two of the catacombs.”

  “We should speak to Tino,” said Suki thoughtfully. “We might be able to use her in light of… of poor Fix.” She stared at the table, her blond hair falling over her face.

  “Did you get anything from Jack’s mother’s ring?” Rowan asked her.

  Suki sighed and closed her eyes. “Not really. Only a
feeling that she’s somewhere close… but the more I try and force it, the further it slips from me.”

  “Do you think she’s alive?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  The conversation broke up. Across the street, the noise levels rose at the Spiral Staircase, and the laughter grew more raucous. Sparrow’s eyes were trained on Jack’s father, and Fabian fidgeted and adjusted his glasses repeatedly, watching the upstairs part of the pub for any glimpse of Jack at the windows. Once or twice there were shadowy movements beyond, but nothing clear. All the windows were thrown open to entice a breeze through.

  Finally, the clock in Mrs. Beak’s chimed daintily, announcing that it was now three o’clock.

  “It’s time,” said Sparrow, not taking his eyes off Jack’s father. “Everybody needs to be prepared. Until the changeling reacts to the spell we won’t know how to respond. It all depends on whether she leaves with or without Jack’s sister.”

  “And whether Jack is successful in the first place,” Fabian muttered.

  Moments later Jack appeared at the door, carrying a large plastic crate.

  “There he is,” said Rowan, tensing. “Who’s going to deliver the spell?”

  “I’ll do it,” said Tanya.

  “No. You can’t do anything that directly involves you, not after Gredin’s threats. Give it to someone else.”

  “I’ll do it,” said Suki, holding out her hand.

  Tanya pulled the tiny bottle from her pocket and handed it over.

  Suki got up and left the table, crossing the street. The bottle was concealed in her palm as she casually approached Jack. He lingered at one of the tables, taking time to fill the crate with empty bottles and glasses and pausing to return the good-byes of the bar staff finishing their shift as they left. Tanya’s sharp eyes caught sight of a label on Jack’s top—it was inside out. Suki headed for the table, stopping only when close enough to touch him.

  No one could hear what she said to him, but after some gesticulating and pointing down the street, Suki smiled at him and came back to the table.

  “Done,” she whispered, her smile gone, replaced by a furrowed brow. “All we can do now is wait.”

  Jack went back into the pub. Agonizing minutes passed, in which another member of staff turned up for the next shift. The clock in the tea shop chimed the quarter hour.

  An upstairs window of the Spiral Staircase, the one furthest from them, slammed shut. The next window along the row closed seconds later. Then a third.

  Rowan stiffened in her chair. “Who’s doing that? Who’s closing all the windows when it’s still so warm?”

  “Something’s happening,” Sparrow whispered, rising in his seat.

  A figure appeared in the fourth window directly opposite them. A woman leaned out, her eyes cold and her hair wild. Her mouth moved quickly with unheard words as a thin arm reached out for the window. Her body twitched with small spasms, like she was in pain. With a clawlike grip on the window, she pulled it shut with a bang.

  “It’s her,” said Suki. “The changeling mother.”

  Rowan felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. Whatever the changeling was, its façade was slipping. Jack must have succeeded.

  “Where’s Jack?” said Suki. She searched the windows. “He hasn’t made the signal… but something seems wrong.”

  “Then maybe he can’t signal,” said Tanya. “Perhaps he can’t get to the window.”

  “We’ve got to get him out,” said Rowan. “Now. Fabian, are you ready? Can you do this?”

  “I can do it,” said Fabian. He got up, the milkshake moustache clinging to his upper lip making him seem young and vulnerable.

  “No, you can’t,” said Rowan. “I can’t let you go in there with that… that thing.”

  “Stick to the plan,” hissed Suki. “It’s too late to change it now—everything’s hanging in the balance!”

  “I’ll take care of Jack’s father,” said Sparrow. He stuffed a rolled-up twenty-pound note under Fabian’s glass, then got up and sauntered across the street. Stooping, he collected one of the small plant pots by the door and hurled it at the nearest window. The pot missed the glass and bounced off the frame, fell, and smashed on the ground.

  A customer at a nearby table stood up, outraged. Jack’s father appeared at the door with a roar. Sparrow grinned obnoxiously and took off, fleeing down the winding cobblestones of Wishbone Walk.

  Jack’s father followed him, red-faced. “Get back here, you little bleeder!”

  “That’s him out of the way for a few minutes,” said Suki. “The rest is down to us. Fabian, you go in and try to get Jack out. Remember, try not to go upstairs. Your aim is to get Jack called down. Rowan and I will wait around the back, near the alley.”

  They got up, Rowan collecting her knapsack from under the table. Only Tanya stayed seated, her hands clenched into fists on the tabletop. “Fabian, wait,” she said as he started to move away. “Take these.” She pushed a pair of tiny silver scissors at him. “I brought them, just in case. They’re no good to me, sitting here. But they might come in useful to you. Remember, they’ll cut through anything except for wood, metal, or stone.”

  Fabian took them, visibly nervous.

  Then he, Rowan, and Suki walked to the Spiral Staircase. Tanya remained at the table, alone.

  The garden of the Spiral Staircase had more tables, spread out over grass and sheltered by trees and bushes. Only a couple of the tables were occupied. A back door led inside, propped open by an old iron. It provided a clear view into the pub.

  Rowan and Suki sat at the table nearest the door. Fabian remained standing. To the left of the door an area of wooden fencing had been erected to stow the trash cans in. Either end was open—one for entry from the pub, and the other leading to the alley at the side, where the garbage collectors picked up the refuse. From the front, the trash cans were concealed from any customers in the garden.

  Suki nodded to the trash cans. “You get in there and get that coat on,” she told Rowan. “I’ll wait here. Fabian, once she’s in position, you go in. This is it.”

  Rowan stood, throwing the knapsack over her shoulder. She headed out of the garden toward the alley, then, once out of sight from the other tables, she doubled back into the trash area undetected. Quickly, she pulled the fox-skin coat from the bag and threw it around her shoulders, transforming as the catch was fastened. She took a moment to adjust to the peculiar shrinking sensation as she became fox-size, then took the knapsack in her jaws and dragged it out of sight behind one of the trash cans.

  The stench of the rubbish pervaded her fox senses. Rotting food and waste reeked in the summer heat, and flies buzzed around her ears and tail as she made her way to the exit nearest the pub, poking her muzzle around the side to show Suki and Fabian she was in place. She took a quick snatch of air that wasn’t fetid before shrinking back into her hiding place and trying not to breathe the rancid smell.

  “Go,” she heard Suki say.

  The scent of fresh sweat, born of anxiety, reached her as Fabian passed her hiding place. Then he was through the door and out of sight.

  Fabian blinked as his eyes adjusted to the gloomy light inside the Spiral Staircase. A little way in and to his right was a set of carpeted stairs leading up into the living area, and to his left a door was cracked open, revealing a small storeroom stacked with boxes of snacks and soft drinks. He waited at the foot of the stairs, but heard nothing from above.

  Straight ahead was the bar area, and behind the counter a dark-headed girl adjusted the tuning on a crackling radio. The rest of the bar was empty, customers preferring to be outside in the sun. He could easily sneak up the stairs, but did not dare to, especially after Suki’s warning. There was a risk he could be caught if he went up without permission.

  He swallowed his nerves and approached the bar. The strong odor of stale beer hit him, leaving him queasy.

  “Excuse me?” he said, his voice timid.

  The barmaid looked
up.

  “I’m one of Jack’s friends,” Fabian said. “Is he coming out today?”

  The girl shrugged, checking her reflection in the mirrored glass behind the counter. It seemed to please her. “He’s upstairs, I think. Go on up and ask him—do you know where you’re going?”

  “Yes,” Fabian lied. “I’ve been here before.” He backed out of the bar, returning to the stairs. His forehead moistened with perspiration. He took two apprehensive steps up the carpeted stairway and drew a deep breath.

  “Jack?” he called, in a surprisingly steady voice. “It’s me, Fabian.” He stopped, realizing his error. How many times had the power of names been discussed? Too many to think about, and now he had just blurted his out in the presence of something fey and potentially dangerous. “Idiot!” he cursed under his breath. There was no choice except to continue. “Are you still coming out?”

  There was no reply. Something shifted upstairs; the sound of a footstep on a loose floorboard. Fabian took another slow step up. “Jack?” he called again. He craned his neck but could not see much further than the banister, except for a couple of doors in the hallway, both closed. With no natural light filtering through, it was dark. Fabian spied a light switch by his hand. His finger hovered over it as he tried to decide what to do. Any minute now Jack’s father could return and complicate things.

  Impulsively, Fabian flicked the switch, and the hallway flooded with light. He looked back up the stairs—and half-fell, half-leapt back to the bottom in fright, twisting his ankle.

  The woman they’d seen at the window stood motionless at the top of the stairs, watching him. Her head was tilted to one side, alert, like a dog about to pounce on a rabbit. Her face was waxen, and her brown hair hung limply in greasy shanks on either side of her head.

  Fabian fought the instinct to flee and forced himself to smile.

  “Oh, you made me jump!” he said, giving a little laugh. “I was wondering if Jack’s still coming out today? My mum’s taking us for a picnic.”

  The tilted head slowly straightened.

  “Jack cannot come out with you today.” The woman’s words were slow and controlled, as though she was fighting some deep-rooted urge. Adrenaline surged through Fabian. He shoved his hands in his pockets to hide them, for they were trembling uncontrollably.