by Libba Bray
“Certainly,” Ann moans. "If I am still here to give it.”
“Would you tell her that I’ve seen the Temple. I saw it in a vision the night of the ball.”
“You did?”
“The three girls in white showed me the way. Tell her whenever she’s ready, we’ll go back.”
“I shall,” Ann swears. “Gemma . . .” Not again. I cannot help her now. "You won’t tell Tom about all of this, will you?”
If he finds out, I don’t know whom he’ll hate more for the deception, Ann or me. "Your secret’s safe.”
I can’t bear to return home. Father’s deteriorating rapidly, crying out for laudanum or the pipe, some opiate to take away his pain. Tom sits outside Father’s door, his long arms resting on the tops of his bent knees. He is unshaven and there are dark circles beneath his eyes.
“I’ve brought you tea,” I say, handing him the cup. “How is he?”
As if in answer, Father moans from behind the door. I can hear the bed creaking under the weight of his thrashing. He cries softly. Tom puts his hands on either side of his head as if he could squeeze all thoughts from his skull.
“I’ve failed him, Gemma.”
This time I sit beside my brother. "No, you haven’t.”
“Perhaps I’m not meant to be a doctor.”
“Of course you are. Ann thinks you’re going to be one of the finest physicians in London,” I say, hoping to cheer him. It is hard to see Tom—impossible, arrogant, unstoppable Tom— feeling so glum. He is the one constant in my life, even if the constant is irritation.
Tom gives a sheepish grin. "Miss Bradshaw said that? She is most kind. And rich, as well. When I asked you to find me a suitable match with a small fortune, I was only joking. But you took me at my word, I see.”
“Yes, well, about that fortune . . . ,” I start. How do I explain this lie to Tom? I should tell him before things go much further, yet I can’t bring myself to confess that Ann is no heiress, only a kind, hopeful soul who thinks the world of him. "She is rich in other ways, Tom. Remember that.”
Father groans loudly, and Tom looks as if he will crawl out of his skin. "I can’t take much more. Perhaps I should give him a little something—some brandy or—”
“No. Why don’t you go out for a walk or to your club? I’ll sit with him.”
“Thank you, Gemma.” He gives me an impulsive peck on the forehead. The spot feels warm. “Don’t give in to him. I know how you ladies are—too soft to be proper guardians.”
“Go on, then. Away with you,” I say.
Father’s room is bathed in the purplish haze of dusk. He moans and writhes on the bed, twisting the linens into a wreck. The air smells of sweat. Father is drenched in it, his bedclothes plastered to his body.
“Hello, Father,” I say, drawing the curtains and turning up the lamp. I pour water into a glass and put it to his lips, which are cracked and white. He takes halting sips.
“Gemma,” he gasps. "Gemma, darling. Help me.”
Don’t cry, Gem. Be strong. “Would you like me to read to you?” He grips my arm. “I’m having the most horrid dreams. So real I cannot tell if I am dreaming or awake.”
My stomach twists. "What sorts of dreams?”
“Creatures. They tell me terrible stories about your mother. That she wasn’t who she claimed to be. That she was a witch, a sorceress who did terrible things. My Virginia . . . my wife.”
He breaks down sobbing. Something inside me falls away. Not my father. Leave my father alone.
“My wife was virtuous. She was a noble woman. A good woman.” His eyes find mine. “They say it’s your fault. All this is because of you.”
I try to take a breath. Father’s eyes soften. “But you are my darling girl, my very good girl, aren’t you, Gemma?”
“Yes,” I whisper. "Of course.”
His grip is strong. “I cannot bear another minute of these things. Be my good girl, Gemma. Find the bottle. Before those dreams come back for me.”
My resolve weakens. I’m no longer certain of myself as his pleadings grow more urgent, his tear-soaked voice a raw whisper. “Please. Please. Please. I can’t bear it.” A small bubble of spit floats on his cracked lips.
I think I shall go mad. Like Nell Hawkins’s, my father’s mind has been worn thin. And now those creatures have found him in his dreams. They will give him no peace because of me. This is my fault. I must remedy it. Tonight, I will go into the realms and not leave them until I have found the Temple.
But I will not let my father suffer while I do.
“Shhh, Father. I will help you,” I say. Pulling up my skirts to an immodest length, I run to my room and find the box where I’ve hidden the bottle. I race back to my father’s bedside. He’s working the bed linens between his knuckles, rocking his head back and forth, writhing and sweaty.
“Father, here. Here!” I put the bottle to his lips. He drinks down the laudanum like a man parched.
“More,” he pleads.
“Shhh, that’s all there is.”
“It’s not enough!” he cries. "Not enough!”
“Give it a moment.”
“No! Go away!” he screams, and pounds his head against the headboard.
“Father, stop!” I place my hands on either side of his head to keep him from injuring himself further.
“You are my good girl, Gemma,” he whispers. His eyes flutter. His grip lightens. He settles into an opiate slumber. I hope I have done the right thing.
Mrs. Jones is at the door. "Miss, is everything all right?”
I stumble out. “Yes,” I say, barely catching my breath. “Mr. Doyle is going to rest now. I’ve just remembered something I must do. Would you sit with him, Mrs. Jones? I shan’t be long.”
“Yes, miss,” she says.
It has begun to rain again. There is no carriage and so I take a cab to Bethlem Hospital. I want to tell Nell that I’ve seen the Temple in my vision and that it is within my grasp. And I want to ask her how I may find Miss McCleethy—Circe. If she thinks she can have her creatures torment my father, she is mistaken.
When I arrive, there is pandemonium. Mrs. Sommers scurries down the hall, wringing her hands. Her voice is high. She is in a very excited state.
“She’s doing wicked things, miss. Such wicked things!”
Several of the patients have gathered in the corridor, anxious to see what is causing all the disturbance. Mrs. Sommers pulls at her hair. "Wicked, wicked girl!”
“Now, Mabel,” a nurse says, pinning Mrs. Sommers’s arm to her side. “What’s all this carrying on about? Who’s doing wicked things?”
“Miss Hawkins. She’s a wicked girl.”
There’s a terrible squawking coming from down the hall. Two of the women begin a game of imitating it. The sound, everywhere at once, pierces me.
“Merciful heavens,” the nurse exclaims. "What is that?”
We hurry past the squawking women, our footsteps echoing off the gleaming floors till we reach the sitting area. Nell’s standing with her back to us. Cassandra’s cage stands empty, the door ajar.
“Miss Hawkins? What’s all the ruckus . . .” The nurse goes silent as Nell turns to us, the bird cradled in her small hands. Green and red feathers trail over her palms in a waterfall of color. But the head is all wrong. It lies at an impossible angle to the fragile body. She has broken its neck.
The nurse gasps. "Oh, Nell! What have you done?”
A crowd has gathered behind us, pressing in to see. Mrs. Sommers runs from person to person, whispering, “Wicked! Wicked! They said she was wicked! They did!”
“You cannot cage things,” Nell Hawkins says flatly.
Horrified, the nurse can only repeat, “What have you done?”
“I’ve set it free.” Nell seems to see me now. She gives a smile that would break the heart. “She’s coming for me, Lady Hope. And then she will come for you.”
Two burly men arrive with a straitjacket for Nell. They approach her gently and wra
p her in it like a baby. She doesn’t struggle. She doesn’t seem to be aware of anything.
Only when she passes me does she scream. “They will lead you astray with false promises! Do not leave the path!”
CHAPTER FORTY
BY LATE THE FOLLOWING DAY, FELICITY’S CURIOSITY has overtaken her anger at me. She and Ann return my call. Our days in London are dwindling. Soon we must return to Spence. Tom greets Ann warmly, and she brightens. She’s grown more confident these past two weeks in London, as if she believes herself worthy of happiness at last, and I worry that it will end badly.
Felicity pulls me into the parlor. “What happened at the ball, it must never be spoken of again.” She won’t look at me. “It isn’t what you think, anyway. My father is a good and loving man and a perfect gentleman. He would never harm anyone.”
“What about Polly?”
“What about Polly?” she says, suddenly staring me down. She can put such ice in those eyes when she has a care to. “She’s lucky to have been taken in by us. She’ll have everything she wants—the best governess, schools, clothes, and a season to end all seasons. Better than the orphanage by far.”
This is the price of her friendship, my silence.
“Do we have an agreement?”
Ann joins us. "Have I missed anything?”
Felicity’s waiting for my answer.
“No,” I say to Ann.
Felicity’s shoulders drop. “Let’s not be bothered by the horrors of holiday visits to home. Gemma knows where to find the Temple.”
“I’ve seen it, I think.”
“What are we waiting for? Let’s go,” Ann says.
The garden is nearly unrecognizable to me. Weeds have sprung up thick and dry and tall as sentries. The carcass of a small animal, a rabbit or a hedgehog, lies opened in the brittle grass. Flies swarm it. They make an awful, loud buzzing.
“Are you sure we’re in the garden?” Ann asks, looking around.
“Yes,” I say. “Look, there’s the silver arch.” It is tarnished but there all the same.
Felicity finds the rock where Pippa’s hidden her arrows and hoists the quiver onto her back. "Where’s Pip?”
A beautiful animal steps out from the bushes. It is like a cross between a deer and a pony, with a long, glossy mane and flanks of a dappled mauve.
“Hello,” I say.
The creature ambles toward us and stops, sniffing the air. She goes skittish, as if she’s smelled something that alarms her. Suddenly, she breaks into a run, just as something leaps from the brush with a warrior’s cry.
“Get away!” I shout, pushing the others into the heavy weeds.
The animal’s wrestled to the ground, screaming. There is the sick sound of bone breaking, and then nothing.
“What was that thing?” Ann whispers.
“I don’t know,” I say.
Felicity grabs her bow, and we follow her to the edge of the weeds. Something’s hunched over the animal’s side where it has been ripped open.
Felicity positions herself. "Stop where you are!”
The creature looks up. It’s Pippa, her face streaked with the animal’s blood. For a moment, I swear I see her eyes go blue-white, a look of hunger passing over her usually lovely face.
“Pippa?” Felicity asks, lowering the bow. “What are you doing?”
Pippa rises. Her dress is tattered and her hair a mess. “I had to do it. It was going to hurt you.”
“No, it wasn’t,” I say.
“Yes, it was!” she shouts. "You don’t know these things.” She walks toward us, and I instinctively move back. She pulls a dandelion from the ground, offering it to Felicity. “Shall we ride down the river again? It’s so lovely on the river. Ann, I know a place where the magic is very strong. We could make you so beautiful that you could have your heart’s desire.”
“I should like to be beautiful,” Ann says. “After we find the Temple, of course.”
“Ann,” I warn. I don’t mean to say it. It just slips out.
Pippa looks from Ann to Felicity to me. “Do you know where it is?”
“Gemma saw it in a vis—”
I interrupt Felicity. "No. Not just yet.”
Pippa’s eyes brim with tears. “You do know where it is. And you don’t want me along.”
She’s right. I’m afraid of Pip, of what she’s becoming.
“Of course we want you along, don’t we?” Felicity says to me.
Pip demolishes the flower. She glares at me. "No, she doesn’t. She doesn’t like me. She never did.”
“That isn’t true,” I say.
“It is! You’ve always been jealous of me. You were jealous of my friendship with Felicity. And you were jealous of the way that Indian boy, Kartik, used to look at me, as if he wanted me. You hated me for it. Don’t bother denying it, for I saw your face!”
She’s pierced me through with the truth, and she knows it. “Don’t be ridiculous,” I say. I can’t catch my breath.
She fixes me with a stare like a wounded animal. "I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.” There it is, the thing that’s been left unsaid.
“You—you chose to eat the berries,” I sputter. "You chose to stay.”
“You left me here to die in the river!”
“I couldn’t fight Circe’s assassin—that dark thing! I came back for you.”
“Tell yourself whatever you wish, Gemma. But in your heart, you know the truth. You left me here with that thing. And if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have known... ”She stops.
“Wouldn’t have known what?” Ann asks.
“You wouldn’t have known they were looking for you! I was the one who warned you, in your dreams.”
“But you said you didn’t know about that,” Felicity says, sounding hurt. "You lied. You lied to me.”
“Fee, please don’t be cross,” Pip says.
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” I ask.
Pippa folds her arms. “Why should I risk telling you everything when you won’t promise me anything?”
Her logic is a web expertly spun, and I am caught in it.
“Very well. If I cannot be trusted,” Pippa says, turning her back, “then you may find the Temple without me. But don’t come looking to me for help later.”
“Pippa! Don’t go!” Felicity calls after her. I’ve never seen Felicity beg anyone for anything. And for the first time, Pippa does not heed her call. She keeps walking till we can’t see her anymore.
“Should we go after her?” Ann asks.
“No. If she wants to behave like a spoiled child, then let her. I shan’t go after her,” Felicity says, gripping her bow tightly. “Let’s move on.”
The amulet points the way, and we duck through the forest, past the thicket where the unfortunate ladies of the factory fire wait. We follow the path of the crescent eye on a long, winding trail until we reach the strange door that leads to the Caves of Sighs.
“How did we end up here again?” Felicity asks.
I’m terribly confused. “I don’t know. I’ve lost my bearings completely, I’m afraid.”
Suddenly, Ann stops, a look of fear on her face.
“Gemma . . .”
I turn and see them, floating on the path.
Felicity goes for her arrows, but I stay her hand. “It’s all right,” I say. “These are the girls in white.”
“The Temple is close,” they whisper in those swarmlike voices. "Follow us.”
They travel quickly. It is all we can do to keep them in our sights. The green of the jungle-like path opens onto rolling hills that become sandy patches. By the time we’ve descended a third hill, I no longer see them. They’ve vanished.
“Where are they?” Felicity asks. She takes down her quiver to rub her shoulder.
“I don’t see them,” I say, trying to catch my breath.
Ann sits on a rock. “I’m tired. Feels like we’ve been walking for days.”
“Perhaps we’ll see something if
we climb up one of these hills,” Felicity advises. “They said it was close. Come on, Ann.”
Grudgingly, Ann rises, and we make our way up the rocky hill to our right.
“Do you hear something?” I ask.
We listen and there it is: a soft crying sound.
“Birds?” Felicity asks.
“Gulls,” Ann says. "We must be near water.”
We’re close to the top of the hill. I offer Ann my hand, pulling her up.
“Criminy,” Ann says, taking in the scene.
Before us, across an expanse of water, is a small isle. From it rises a majestic cathedral with a blue and gold painted dome. The seagulls we heard earlier circle it.
“That’s it. That’s the one from my vision,” I say.
“We’ve found it,” Felicity shouts. "We’ve found the Temple!”
In our mad haste to keep up, I have forgotten to look down at my amulet to check our course. When I do, I see that it has stopped glowing.
“We’re off the path,” I say, panicked.
“What does it matter?” Felicity says. “We have found the Temple at last.”
“But it’s not on the path,” I say. "Nell said to stick to the path.”
Exhaustion has made Felicity irritable. “Gemma, she was speaking gibberish. You’re following the advice of a confirmed lunatic!”
I turn in a circle, moving the amulet up and down in an attempt to get some sort of signal from it. There is nothing.
Ann places her hands over mine. “It is true, Gemma. We’ve no idea if what she’s telling us can be trusted. At best, she’s a lunatic. At worst, she could be working with Circe. We don’t know.”
“How do you even know that amulet is reliable? Honestly, where has it led us? To the Untouchables? To those girls in the thicket? It nearly got us killed by those horrible trackers the night of the opera!” Felicity insists.
Ann nods. “You said yourself that the girls in white came to you in a vision. They showed you the Temple, and here it is!”
Yes, and yet . . .
It’s off the path. Nell said we shouldn’t be led astray. Nell, who strangled a parrot in a mad rage, who tried to strangle me as well.
Don’t trust her, the girls in white said.
But Kartik said nothing from the realms could be trusted.
