13 Secrets

by Michelle Harrison

  “Good plan.” She left him, continuing to cross off the rest of the doors, then went downstairs to mark the doors there, and then finally, the ground floor.

  When she reached the library, she lingered outside. She pressed her ear to the door, straining for any sound of Sparrow from behind the hidden partition, but she heard nothing. The sickened feeling she had been carrying with her ever since deepened. Thoughts of Sparrow, injured and defenseless if the house should be breached, played in her mind. If anything happened to him, it would be her fault. She tried the door, but of course, no one had been in since Warwick had locked it, taking the key with him.

  She continued through the house, her mind working furiously. She had to at least know that Sparrow was all right, that he hadn’t been seriously hurt when Tino had pushed him. She marked the doors, methodically and savagely, grimacing at the intense heat of the fires.

  She pushed open the door to a disused parlor room. Inside, Morag was at the table. Papers were spread across it before her. Suki sat with her eyes closed at the center of a large circle crudely drawn with chalk on the tiled floor. She opened her eyes as Rowan entered.

  “Sorry,” said Rowan. “I didn’t know you were still in here. I’ll come back—”

  “We were just about to come out,” said Suki, getting up. “Morag’s done it—she’s lifted the hex on me.” She held her hands to her head, swaying a little. “I’m already sensing things—scenes are coming through again. I have to find Tino.” She left the room and staggered off in the direction of the kitchen.

  Morag rose from the table, deep in thought. One of her hands fluttered at her neck, and with the other, she ran a bony finger over one of the pieces of paper and tapped at it. “I was sure…” she began, then tutted. “Never mind. I’m old and forgetful now.”

  “Is something bothering you?” Rowan asked, moving to her side.

  “This hex,” Morag said. “It’s a particularly nasty one—I’ve only seen it crop up once or twice in my lifetime. Both times I was able to lift it with a purifying spell.” She gestured to the chalk circle.

  “Suki says it worked,” Rowan reminded her gently. “You did it.”

  “Yes,” said Morag. “But in both cases before this, the reaction to the hex being lifted was quite different, if my memory serves.”

  Rowan frowned. “How do you mean?”

  “Well, for one thing, the afflicted person would be very ill after having such a hex removed,” said Morag. “I didn’t tell the girl this beforehand—I needed her to be calm and relaxed for it to work. One of the side effects of the hex working its way out of the system is cramps, violent cramps. Even sickness, in some cases. And often, the healer lifting the hex experiences these symptoms too, to a milder extent.”

  “But Suki isn’t ill,” said Rowan. “She just seemed a bit dizzy.”

  “Yes,” said Morag. “And I’m feeling no different. Which means that either I haven’t lifted it properly, despite what she says, or that I wrongly identified the hex.”

  Rowan stared at the piece of paper under Morag’s hand. A circular diagram had been sketched on to it, with odd little squiggles and symbols. “Did Suki draw this?”

  “Yes.”

  “It doesn’t look right.” Rowan picked up the piece of paper and examined it more closely. “I saw what was underneath her caravan, and it wasn’t this.”

  Morag’s eyes narrowed, and she looked toward the door. Rowan caught the hint. She went over and checked the hallway before closing it.

  “Do you think you can remember what you saw?” Morag said gravely.

  “A little.” Rowan grabbed a nearby pencil and a blank sheet of paper. “She’s got parts of it right, like the photograph of herself in the center, but the arrangement was different.” She drew out a circle and added the square at the center. “That’s the photograph. There was something covering her face—mud… no, candle wax.” She closed her eyes, trying to remember. “I can’t picture any more. But other people saw it too.” She laid the pencil down. “I don’t understand it—how could Suki have got it so wrong? Surely out of everyone, she’d have remembered it correctly. Unless…”

  “Unless she deliberately misled me,” Morag finished. Her gnarled hand gripped the paper. “I need to find out what this is, but to identify it I must have more detail.”

  Rowan held out her hand for the paper, folded it, and tucked it in her back pocket. “I’ll get it. Don’t tell anyone what you’ve just told me—we can’t have this getting back to Suki until we know what we’re dealing with.” Her thoughts were a jumble as she left the room. She passed the kitchen, noting that Tino, Samson, Crooks, Victor, and Merchant were in there. Unfortunately, so was Suki. That left only one other person who had seen the carved circle—and he was shut in the stone tunnel below the library.

  Two people had keys to the door: Warwick and Florence. Rowan’s only option was to steal one of them.

  She bolted up the stairs. Tanya was now helping Fabian rig doors with trip wire. They were being solemnly overlooked by Oberon, who had been let out of whichever room he’d been shut in earlier.

  “I need your help,” she told them. “I have to get a skeleton key. Can you create some kind of distraction?”

  Fabian got up. “Whose key?”

  “Whoever we find first—I need it quickly.”

  Fabian jerked his head to the safe room. “I just saw Warwick go in there.”

  Rowan set off. “That’ll do.”

  They stopped outside the door.

  “What do you want us to do to distract him?” Tanya asked.

  Rowan put her hand on the doorknob. “Whatever comes to mind.” She pushed the door open and went into the room.

  The first thing she saw was that Warwick was not alone in the room. Rose was with him. They stepped apart swiftly, but not before Rowan saw that they were holding hands. From Fabian’s gasp, it was clear he had seen it too.

  “So it’s true then?” he demanded. “Something is going on between you two?”

  Rowan closed her eyes. This was not what she had planned. Nevertheless, the look of horror on Warwick’s face showed her one thing—all his attention was on Fabian now.

  Rose looked past them to Tanya, holding back in the doorway behind them.

  “You told them? Why?”

  Now it was Rowan’s turn to be shocked.

  “I never said anything,” Tanya gasped.

  “What?” Fabian rounded on her. “You knew? You knew about this?”

  “Believe me, I didn’t want to know,” Tanya protested.

  “She found out by accident. We asked her not to say anything,” Warwick said hoarsely. “It’s not Tanya’s fault. We should have told you both—but it never seemed to be the right time. Now’s not the right time….”

  “You got that right,” Fabian shot back.

  “Do you really begrudge us being together?” Rose asked. Her face looked thinner, and it was pale against her masses of red hair.

  “No,” Rowan managed at last. She wanted to scream with anger, and frustration, and confusion. “No… I don’t begrudge it. It doesn’t feel wrong, exactly. Just odd.” She stared at Rose. “Ever since you’ve been here, things have been complicated. Why did you have to complicate them more?”

  “I don’t see what’s so complicated.” Rose’s voice was soft. “I’m here because I love you.” She glanced at Warwick. “And I… I love him. It’s quite simple, really.”

  “I remember when we were in the fairy realm,” Rowan said, looking at Warwick. “You said you didn’t think you’d ever be happy again, not without Evelyn. You blamed yourself for her death, even though it wasn’t really your fault. If this will make you happy, then I’m glad.”

  Too late she noticed Fabian tense beside her.

  “What do you mean by that? Why should he blame himself for my mother’s death? It was an accident!”

  Warwick’s mouth opened and closed, but no words came out.

  “It was an accident,�
� Fabian repeated through gritted teeth. “Wasn’t it?”

  “Tell him, Warwick,” Rowan said sadly. “It’s time he knew the truth.”

  “It wasn’t an accident.” Warwick moved toward Fabian, his arms outstretched, but Fabian backed away. “It was revenge, against me, for meddling in the fairy world. They wanted to hurt me—so they… they took your mother.”

  “No!” said Fabian. “You told me she’d been sleepwalking! That’s how she ended up falling into the brook! That’s how she drowned—”

  “She was enchanted,” Warwick cut in. “She didn’t have a chance. I’ve wanted to tell you the truth for a long time.”

  “But it was easier to lie,” Fabian spat. “And Florence must have known, and”—he shot a venomous look at Rose—“I’m guessing she did.”

  An injured look crept into Rose’s eyes. She pushed past Rowan and Tanya and walked out of the room, leaving Fabian to his tirade.

  “Even Rowan knew before I did. Be honest—were you ever going to tell me?”

  “Of course!”

  Fabian laughed without mirth. “I don’t think any of you in this room know how to tell the truth. You’ve all lied to me—every single one of you.” He cast his eyes around, and Rowan saw that hers was not the only face burning with shame.

  Without another word, Fabian left, his footsteps thudding across the hall to his bedroom. Warwick rushed after him. “Fabian!”

  “Go away!” Fabian roared, slamming his door.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Warwick and Rose,” Tanya said. She knelt by Oberon and buried her face in his fur. “I didn’t know how to… and I thought they should be the ones to do it. I didn’t think it’d come out like this.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Rowan shook her head. “None of it matters anymore.” She smiled bitterly. “I wanted a distraction—and I got one. And a lot more than I bargained for.”

  She nodded to the door, which had started to swing closed after Warwick’s exit. “Turns out I didn’t even need it.”

  His keys dangled from the lock.

  The keys rattled traitorously in Rowan’s hand as she searched for the right one to the library. Twice she moved away at the sound of approaching voices, but no one had yet seen her trying to access the room. Sweat poured from her forehead, not helped by the roaring fires all around the house. Her nausea magnified with each wave of heat.

  Finally she found it. After letting herself into the room and locking the door behind her, she removed the key from the ring and left it in the lock. She stuffed the remaining ones in her pocket and crept to the bookcase, knocking softly on the wood.

  “Sparrow?” she whispered.

  There was no answer. She tapped harder. “Sparrow? Are you there?”

  Something shuffled on the other side. “Where else would I be?” His voice was groggy, but sarcastic.

  She leaned her head against the wood. “Sparrow, I’m sorry.”

  There was a silence. Then, “Who else is there with you?”

  “No one. I’m alone—they don’t know I’m in here.”

  “Have you found something that proves it wasn’t me who attacked Morag?”

  “No.” She bit her lip. “But I trust you.” As she spoke, a realization hit her. “Wait—you couldn’t have attacked Morag… because it happened when we were at Dawn’s. I was with you all day!”

  Sparrow was quiet. “Shame you didn’t remember that earlier. Are you letting me out?”

  “I don’t think I can—not yet.”

  “Then why did you bother coming in here?”

  “Because I wanted to check you’re all right. Are you?”

  “You mean after Tino chucked me down the stairs?” His bitterness permeated the wall. “Yeah. A few scrapes and bruises. I’ve had worse.”

  She closed her eyes, picturing his chipped tooth. “Listen. I need to show you something.”

  “Show me something? Wouldn’t that involve you opening this door?”

  “Yes. Will you promise not to run?”

  He laughed. “Give me one good reason why not.”

  She opened her eyes and took a deep breath. “Because if you do you’ll be caught and it’ll only make you look more guilty.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  “Even if you got out, you wouldn’t get far. The house is being watched.”

  “Not good enough—I’d still run.”

  “Fine. Because I’m asking you not to.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Rowan blinked. “Are you serious?”

  “I’m locked in a damp, stinking tunnel. I’m not exactly in the mood to joke.”

  Before she could change her mind her fingers found the mechanism. She stood aside as the narrow passageway was slowly revealed. Sparrow huddled at the top of the stairs, shivering. He squinted as the light from the room flooded in, blinking at her miserably, then moved into the warm library.

  “Get by the fire,” said Rowan. She wanted to cry at the sight of him, she was so ashamed. She waited a couple of minutes to let him warm himself before pulling the piece of paper from her pocket. She unfolded it and passed it to him.

  “What’s this?” he asked through chattering teeth.

  “I’m trying to help Morag with a diagram of the hex under Suki’s caravan. This is what I’ve remembered so far—I was wondering if you could remember any more.”

  Sparrow took it from her. His hand was shaking, and his fingernails were caked with dirt. “Yeah, I can remember bits of it, but wouldn’t you be better off asking Suki?”

  “That’s what I thought,” said Rowan. “She’s been with Morag all day, trying to identify the hex. But I saw what she drew, and it’s nothing like what was under the caravan. Sparrow, I think she lied—I think she’s hiding something. If we can remember what those symbols were then maybe we can figure out what she’s up to.”

  “You think she’s involved in what’s been happening?”

  “Why else would she deliberately mislead someone who was trying to help her? Morag recognized the hex she drew and confirmed it was a nasty one—but that hex was never cast.”

  Sparrow studied the paper. “Got a pen?”

  She reached over and grabbed one from the desk, and Sparrow began to sketch. “Burned-out matches, I remember those. Candles. And the symbols… they were sort of curly, like this….”

  “There was something holding her picture down,” Rowan remembered, the sketch jogging her memory. “A pebble. That’s it. That’s everything—I think you’ve done it.”

  Sparrow stared at the paper, then folded it and handed it back.

  “I just thought of something else,” he said. “When the dog started growling before, it wasn’t only at me. Suki was there too—both times. Even if it was my top he could smell, what’s to say he wasn’t reacting to her scent as well?”

  A tremor of fear went through Rowan. “You think Suki’s the one?”

  Sparrow shrugged. “She was quick enough to come out with a story about being afraid of dogs. I’ve never known Suki to admit to being scared of anything before, have you? And if she lied about that piece of paper, who knows what else she’s lied about?” He leaned toward her. “Think about it for a second. She’s been with the Coven for less than a year. Now half of us are gone, with virtually no signs of a struggle anywhere. They trusted whoever got to them—that’s what got them killed.”

  “But why? Why would she do this?”

  “I don’t know,” said Sparrow. “All I know is that we’re trapped in this house with her, and you say the outside is being watched—”

  “She can’t be working alone,” Rowan said, horrified. “We’ve got to tell Tino and the others!”

  “No,” said Sparrow fiercely. He stabbed at the diagram. “Until we know what that is, we don’t have proof of anything—she’ll just wriggle out of it by saying she remembered it wrong. At the moment, they all still think it’s me, and while we’re in this house, with her on the inside—and whoever she�
�s working with on the outside—we’re sitting ducks.”

  “They’ve rounded us up like sheep,” Rowan said as the realization hit her.

  “But we’ve got a chance to catch them off guard,” Sparrow whispered. “Don’t you see? If you give me what I need to find my way out, the tunnel leads far away enough from the house for me to see what’s happening, but not be seen. I’d have the advantage.”

  “You’re right.” Rowan got up and headed back to the bookcase, opening the secret passageway.

  Reluctantly, Sparrow stepped back inside, his skin graying in the gloom.

  “Will you help me, Red?”

  She nodded. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’m going to get this to Morag, and then get us some flashlights and my fox-skin coat.”

  “Us?”

  “I’m coming with you.” Impulsively, she leaned into the tunnel and put her arms around him. His hair no longer smelled of shampoo. He smelled like Sparrow, her Sparrow. “It’s the least I can do.”

  Something scuffled at the bottom of the stairwell.

  “Go on,” he said gruffly, nudging her away. “Before the door closes us both in the dark.”

  She slid back out of the tunnel and into the warm library. “I won’t be long.”

  The partition started to close.

  “Hurry back,” he whispered through the gap. “I can hear something down there—have I ever told you I hate rats?”

  The tunnel entrance sealed itself, cutting him off.

  Rowan let herself out of the library, her hands shaking as she fumbled to lock the door. The hallway was clear. She darted through it, her eyes peeled for the old gypsy woman. Eventually she found her in the kitchen, talking to Tino and Suki. Warwick was there, subdued after the confrontation. He stood at the table distributing the green liquid from the vat into some of the smaller bottles, then handed one to Morag and another to Rose. He pocketed another one, and then handed Rowan a fourth.

  “Will you give this to Fabian? He won’t open his door to me.”

  She took it, glancing at Suki out of the corner of her eye. “I doubt he’ll open it to me either.” She went to the sink and rummaged in the cupboard below it.

  “What are you after?” Warwick asked.