I’d never in my life seen so huge a room, nor one so strange and empty. There were no candles to account for the bright light that flooded through the hall. The floor and walls were smooth and gold, like the outer casing of the mirror had been, and the rounded ceiling above us arched almost as high as the sky itself. I couldn’t see any doors or windows, no matter how hard I looked.
“Welcome to the Golden Hall, my dear,” the gentleman said. “As Olivia Amberson’s daughter, you are most heartily—”
“Olivia Stephenson’s daughter,” I corrected him, and turned back to face them both. “She was only Olivia Amberson until she married Papa.”
The lady let out a disdainful crack of laughter and turned away.
“Mm. Yes. Well, the less said about that, the better,” said the gentleman. He drew a handkerchief from his pocket and began to polish his spectacles with quick, exact movements. The lenses glittered distractingly in the golden light. Meanwhile, he peered at me from pale, washed-out blue eyes. His thin brown hair was specked with gray, and he was beginning to go bald; I thought he must be even older than Papa. “What’s done is done,” he said, “and we cannot change the past now, even if we might wish to.”
I lifted my chin. My head still hurt, but outrage helped me ignore the pain. “Why exactly would you wish to change that?” I asked. “Are you by any chance insulting my papa?”
“Humph.” His eyes narrowed; I thought I saw the corners of his lips twitch, but it happened so quickly, I couldn’t be sure. “No need to take offense, my dear—ah—what is your name?”
“Kat,” I said, and then thought better of it. “Katherine Ann Stephenson,” I said, as haughtily as I could.
“Her youngest daughter, then.”
“Yes.” I frowned at him, but he looked away, folding his pocket handkerchief.
“Am I to understand, Katherine, that you believe we are all inside your mother’s, er, magic mirror at this very moment?”
“Yes,” I said. “Of course we are. I heard your voices coming from the mirror. That’s why I opened it—I could tell someone was trapped inside. I was going to help you escape.”
The lady rolled her eyes in a very unladylike fashion, but the gentleman smiled.
“A kind instinct, my dear. But, fortunately for all of us, it is entirely unnecessary. Neither of us was trapped here any more than you are now.”
I glanced around me at the vast, empty hall. If there was a way back to my family’s sewing room, I couldn’t see it.
The gentleman followed my gaze and said, “No, the way out is not marked any more than the entryway was. But you may take comfort in the fact that anyone who could not find their way safely back out would never have found their way inside in the first place.”
“I’m not afraid,” I said. But I wasn’t sure I was relieved by his words either. I hadn’t found my way into the mirror; I’d been swept inside and knocked flat out of my wits as it happened. I decided it was safest not to admit that, though.
If there was one thing that growing up with two older sisters had taught me, it was that the best defense in any dangerous situation is a good, vigorous attack. So I narrowed my eyes at the gentleman and said, “If neither of you is trapped here after all, then what exactly are you doing in my mother’s mirror?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” said the lady. “Aloysius, will you please do something?”
“Why, there is only one thing we can do in these circumstances,” the gentleman said. “I believe it is time for us to welcome a new member.”
Her eyes flared wide in shock. “You must be jesting. After what her mother did?”
I blinked. What? But before I could ask any questions, the gentleman replied.
“Miss Katherine is not her mother. You know we always planned that when the time came for Olivia’s child to take her place—”
“I do not recall ever joining into any such unlikely plans,” the lady said. “What I do remember is that Olivia Amberson’s famous curiosity was exactly what started all her mischief in the first place. And thus far, her daughter seems to take after her exactly in that regard.” She swept me with a scathing glance and then turned back to the gentleman, dismissing me. “Olivia was the worst thing that ever happened to our Order, even before she went quite mad. You can hardly—”
I gasped. “Mama was not mad!”
“No, of course she was not,” the gentleman said. “Really, Lydia, such extreme language …”
“Not mad?” She arched her narrow eyebrows. “Whatever else could possibly have caused her to behave in such an outrageous manner? If her daughter is even half so mischievous and irresponsible—”
“Stop insulting my mother!” I shouted.
Her eyes flared open. “Good Lord, what vehemence! Whoever’s attempted to teach you manners—”
“Ladies!” The gentleman’s cough this time sounded like a crack of thunder. “Disputes about the past may wait until a more appropriate moment. In the meantime, only one third of our introductions have been made. Katherine—Miss Katherine Stephenson, that is—I hope you will allow me to present you to Lady Fotherington, who joined our Order in the same year your own mother did.”
“Charmed,” Lady Fotherington snarled.
I only glared at her. I did not curtsy. Elissa might claim that manners always mattered, but having to listen to people be rude about Mama even inside her own magic mirror was beyond what could be borne.
“I,” the gentleman said, “am Mr. Gregson. I was your mother’s tutor.”
“No, you weren’t,” I said. “Mama didn’t have a tutor. Her magic books say—”
I stopped myself with a gulp as my mind caught up with me. Just because these people happened to be inside Mama’s magic mirror didn’t mean they were trustworthy. For all I knew, they might not have dared even to come in until she was safely gone. So I started again, backing up slightly so that I could keep an eye on both of them. “I mean—”
“Her magic books,” Lady Fotherington repeated. Her lips curved into the most unpleasant smile I had ever seen. “Good heavens, Aloysius. Your would-be protégée is already following exactly in her mother’s footsteps. Are you still so certain you wish to induct her into our Order?”
“You’ve found Olivia’s books of spells?” Mr. Gregson frowned. “Miss Katherine, I must know. Have you actually been studying your mother’s magic books?”
Studying them? Well … I’d read them, anyway. Or at least, I’d skimmed the first half of the first book, and Angeline had read the rest. So, “Of course I have,” I said, and met his gaze square-on. “I am Mama’s daughter. Why shouldn’t I?”
“You will have to stop. Yes. Immediately.” Mr. Gregson’s wispy eyebrows drew together into a scowl of concentration. “That was very, very foolish of you. But if you truly repent your actions and promise never, ever to do so again—”
I could feel my cheeks heating up as they both studied me, Mr. Gregson with worry and Lady Fotherington with contempt. “I don’t see why I should,” I said. “You two are doing magic, aren’t you? You couldn’t even be here otherwise. So why shouldn’t I?”
“We,” said Lady Fotherington, “would rather die than carry out disgusting witch magic of the kind your mother practiced. And so would anyone of quality.”
I stared at her. “What other kind of magic is there?”
“None, obviously, that you are fit to learn.” She stalked pointedly away from both of us, her slim back vibrating with outrage.
“Lydia …” Mr. Gregson shook his head and sighed. “We should have found you earlier,” he said to me. “I had hoped—that is to say, I had expected … no. It is too late for recriminations. But what you must understand immediately is this: Witchcraft is not the only kind of true magic. The second type, which has never been made public, is far more rare and remarkable.” He adjusted his spectacles and fixed me with a look so intent it made me step back. “The power of a Guardian can be inherited by only one child in each generation of a fam
ily. Your mother was born a natural Guardian, one of the most powerful magic-workers in the nation—and you, my dear young lady, by coming here tonight, have proven yourself to be her heir.”
My head was whirling. Heirs … magic Guardians … I fastened on what I knew he had gotten wrong. “But Mama was a witch! Everyone knows that.”
“Her family, unfortunately, had both bloodlines running through it. She was a Guardian by birth and by talent, and she did great work for her country as a member of our Order—but yes, she did, tragically, also inherit a talent for witchcraft. It was that inheritance that ruined her in the end.”
“She certainly made no secret of it, once her betrayal was finally exposed,” Lady Fotherington said. She didn’t bother to turn back to us as she spoke, but I could hear the scowl in her voice anyway. “Flaunting her spells until even the most obtuse of her neighbors must have noticed—for all of our protection, she should have been pacified for good, and you know it!”
“What do you mean, ‘pacified’?” I said.
Mr. Gregson waved away the question impatiently. “Olivia was no menace to any of us. No matter what mistaken choices she may have made, she was still a Guardian and our own former colleague, even after she was exiled from our Order.”
Colleague. That was what Mama had meant, in her diary, when she’d spoken of keeping her witchcraft a secret from her colleagues. But it hadn’t worked. And Lady Fotherington had wanted her “pacified” … for exactly the same witchcraft that she’d passed on to Angeline.
My hands curled into fists at my side.
“All of that is ancient history,” said Mr. Gregson. “It can do nothing for us at this point but rake up painful memories. The only point of interest now is that Miss Katherine cannot be blamed for breaking rules she did not even know existed. As she was not yet a member of our Order when she committed her acts of witchcraft, she cannot be banished from the Order for doing so. I am sure she will never be so foolish as to do so again, now that she knows better.”
“Mm,” I said. My nails bit into the palms of my hands.
“In the meantime, though, she may have inadvertently put herself into some danger, and I must look into … hmm … Yes.” His voice strengthened with decision. “Katherine, you will have to bring Olivia’s books to us for safekeeping. There is no other choice.”
“No other choice but to give you my mother’s magic books,” I repeated. Elissa would have been proud of me. I didn’t hit anybody, scream, or run, and I even managed to keep my voice as cool as if we were discussing the weather at one of Stepmama’s endless tea parties. “And why is that, exactly?”
“If someone sensed your workings, if they felt that particular combination—no, there isn’t enough time to explain the whole matter now,” Mr. Gregson said. “I must hurry to our library to begin my research. If I stay there until dawn …” His words dropped to a worried mutter underneath his breath as he turned away. “Yes, yes, we may still be able to avoid …”
He might just have walked away and left me then, except that Lady Fotherington spoke. “You truly have forgotten Olivia, haven’t you, Aloysius?” She swung around to face us. “Do you really imagine that this …” Her gaze raked up and down my nightgown and short hair, and I had to resist the impulse to smooth down the tufts I knew were sticking up. Her lips twisted. “This young lady is going to prove so biddable as to fetch you her mother’s most intimate belongings simply on your say-so?”
Mr. Gregson turned back, blinking. “No? I have told you, Katherine, I was Olivia’s tutor. I shall be your tutor as well, you know, now that you have found us.”
“Shall you, indeed?” I said, as icily as Lady Fotherington herself might have done.
But he looked too distracted to notice. “Yes, yes. I train all our new members, you know. I am the historian of our Order. But I don’t have time to explain matters fully to you tonight. I have an appointment early in the morning, and there is much to consider beforehand. I must go to our library now, before I lose any more of the night hours. Yes.” He nodded. “You may go home now, my dear. Come back tomorrow night with the books, and we shall have our first proper lesson. I’ll explain it all then, I assure you.”
If he had known Angeline, he would have known how dangerous it was to trust an innocent smile. I smiled as innocently as I could. “Very well,” I said.
“Oh, Aloysius, you fool,” said Lady Fotherington. She shook her head. The smile that spread across her own face was insufferably smug. “If we don’t have time for explanations, you’ll need far more security than her word.”
“What do you mean?” Mr. Gregson asked. For the first time since I’d mentioned Mama’s magic books, he seemed to emerge from his abstraction. Worse, he looked decidedly uneasy. “What are you intending, Lydia?”
“Security,” said Lady Fotherington, and started toward me.
I jumped back. “Stay away from me!”
“I think not.” Lady Fotherington gazed at me with green, catlike eyes. “I think if we let you go now we may never see you again. I believe you might even be intending to hide your mother’s magic books from us, for your own nefarious purposes.”
“You’re wrong,” I said. I shot a glance around me at the vast, empty hall. No doors. No signs of any escape route, and I hadn’t had the wits to memorize a single one of Mama’s spells. Mr. Gregson was only watching us, his eyes unreadable. “I wouldn’t do that,” I told them both. “Believe me!”
“Believe you?” Lady Fotherington tilted her head to one side, considering me as she paced across the golden floor, her silk skirts swishing around her legs. Her smile deepened. “You forget, my dear. I am prepared for you. After all, I knew your mother—which is more than you yourself can claim. And I can tell you, she was quite a devilish little trickster.”
That did it. I lunged straight for her smug, smiling face.
I caught her off guard. She threw up her hands, but I barreled straight into her and knocked her backward. We fell together onto the smooth golden floor. I landed on top.
“I told you,” I panted. “Do not insult my mother!”
I slammed my fist into her nose just as Charles had taught me in his boxing lessons. It made a horrible crunching noise, and it hurt my hand.
She screamed. Her hands flew up to her face. Mr. Gregson was making distressed noises as he hovered to one side.
I kept my fist up and ready, even though it hurt like the devil.
“Let me go,” I said to both of them. “Now!”
“My dear girl—,” Mr. Gregson began.
Lady Fotherington’s eyes narrowed. She stopped screaming. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut in concentration.
Pressure built in the air around me until it felt thick and heavy, prickling at my skin. It tingled against my wrists, like a warm, thick cloud of smoke. Then it wrapped around my hands, creeping upward. I tried to bat it away. It came higher.
“Lydia …,” Mr. Gregson said.
She shook her head. Blood was flowing down from her nose to her lips, but she was smiling, her eyes still tightly shut. I hadn’t seen her recite any spell, but I suddenly understood what was happening.
Magic was one thing I couldn’t fight with my fists.
I lurched off her and onto my feet. My hands felt numb, and the numbness was traveling higher, up my arms.
I had to get away. But there weren’t any doors.
What had Mr. Gregson told me before? Anyone who could not find their way safely back out would never have found their way inside in the first place.
I didn’t trust a word that either of them had spoken, but I had no choice. I had to try.
Even if the doors back to the outside world weren’t visible, they had to exist. And if I couldn’t see them with my eyes, I’d have to find them some other way.
I shut my eyes and ran straight across the Golden Hall. The pressure followed me, growing stronger all the time, until it felt like I was trying to run through thick jelly. My upper arms tingled. The numbness
was moving to my shoulders. What would happen to me when it reached my head?
I whispered as I ran, stupid, hopeless pleas that couldn’t help me, but I couldn’t seem to stop. “Please, Mama, please, Mama, please …”
My shoulders went numb. The tingling sensation crept up to my neck.
“Mama, please!”
All I wanted was my home, and my sisters, and my mother’s cabinet of forbidden memories, and my brother who’d taught me how to fight even if he was useless in every other way, and my sweet, helpless father, and even—
The tingling reached my chin.
I opened my eyes. I was barreling straight toward the golden wall, much, much closer than I’d realized. I was going to hit it if I didn’t turn back. But if I turned back, Lady Fotherington would have me.
The tingling rose up my jaw. Chills raced across my scalp. My mind was slowing down, my thoughts scattering.
I closed my eyes and fixed the image of home in my mind with all my strength. I flung myself forward, bracing myself for the collision that would come if I was wrong—
And I fell, in a flash of golden light, tumbling hard onto the carpet of the sewing room, just in front of a pair of slippered feet.
Someone was waiting for me.
Six
After all I’d been through, it should have been a relief to see only Elissa waiting for me. But I had never seen my oldest sister so angry.
“How could you, Kat?” She kept her voice low, too quiet to wake anyone upstairs, but it vibrated with rage. “I never thought you could be so wickedly hurtful. How could you?”
Oh, Lord. It was the fit of prissiness I’d known would happen if Elissa ever found me or Angeline meddling with magic. I sighed and pulled myself up to my knees. The tingling had disappeared, but my head ached worse than ever, and my right hand hurt like blazes. As usual when he was being helpful, Charles had neglected to mention that there was a flaw to what he was teaching me: Hitting people hurt.
Kat, Incorrigible Page 5
