by Erin Bowman
“No way! My mom purposely trapped you in here and has kept the key secret from everyone. My grandma’s missing, and for all we know, that’s her doing too. I don’t trust her one bit.”
Teddy’s face scrunched up. “But she protected me from your grandma.”
“My grandma’s looking like a victim too!” Piper said breathlessly. How could he still be making excuses for her mother? “Look, you stay here. I’ll get the key. And if my mom’s already gotten her hands on it—which I bet she has because she’s clearly up to something—I’ll find it and bring it back. Then you and I can get the elixir together before she makes anyone else disappear.”
“Are you always this bossy?” Teddy asked.
“Are you always so clueless?” she countered. “How did you even survive out here all this time? And if you accessed the garden back when the High Order of Magi first hid it, how the heck am I even talking to you? I didn’t go back in time to get in here.”
Teddy shook his pocket watch at Piper. “I brought myself back to the present as soon as I was inside. That way any of the kids could bump into me when they came in with the key. As for food and stuff … Mrs. Peavey sounded really scared when she told me to hide. So, I don’t know, something about that made me pack a bunch of supplies. I’ve been rationing, and refilling water bottles when it rains. I’m starting to run low, though, and I’m not gonna lie: I’ve considered bending time back to just before the concealment, sneaking out, and staying in the past—where I could easily get food … and a shower. But then how would you guys ever find me? How would Mrs. Peavey tell me it was safe to come home?” He slid his amplifier back into his pocket. “Doesn’t matter. You’re here now; everything’s going to be fine.”
Piper eyed his hair, noticing for the first time how greasy it was. There was also a thinness to him that she suspected wasn’t his natural frame. Her mother was truly evil to have trapped this poor ten-year-old in the garden.
“Okay, so not so clueless,” she admitted. “Just overly trusting.”
Teddy forced a smile. “I’d rather trust people than assume everyone’s out to get me.”
But life was out to get everyone. As Piper’s aunt liked to say, Life is 100 percent fatal. And with a mother as neglectful and selfish as her own, Piper had never been one to trust others blindly.
“I’ll get the key,” she said, glancing back at the looming, dead version of the house. “And when I do, I’ll come straight back here. I promise.”
“Just make sure you bring food and water. Actually, bring some even if you don’t find the key within a day. I don’t know how long I can last without stuff. Oh, and a flashlight and sleeping bag for the night would be great too.”
Piper nodded. “Absolutely.”
“And you’ll update the others, right? I was going to tell them I found a way in, I just ran into Mrs. Peavey first, and then, well, you know.” He paused, biting his bottom lip. “I don’t want them to think I broke our agreement.”
Piper hesitated. If she involved the others, there was no way she’d be able to take the elixir to her father. Camilla had made it clear that the elixir was the kids’ ticket to a permanent home. They’d give it directly to Sophia.
“I know you trust my mom, Teddy, but I don’t,” she said. “If I tell the others, it’s bound to get back to her. They’re all so eager to please her, to find the elixir, and I get why, but I just can’t risk her knowing that I’ve met you. Not until I figure out why my mom trapped you in here—and what happened to my grandmother.”
Teddy nodded slowly. “Okay. I’m cool with that for now. But we have to tell them eventually.”
“When it’s safe to, yes,” Piper agreed.
They walked back toward the estate. Birds sang from the oaks. Sunlight filtered between the leaves.
“So what’s your story, Teddy?”
“I lived in New Haven with my foster dad before coming here. He’s a magi too. He helped me select an amplifier and was always having me take him back in time to try to save his wife. She died in a hit-and-run. We could never stay in the past long without messing up our futures, so I’d always bend us home, and he’d rush through the house, calling her name, hoping she’d be there.”
Teddy rubbed the back of his neck. “He tried so many things when I’d bend time. Small changes on the day she died. One time, he even followed her around, waiting for the car to come swerving toward her, and pulled her out of the way. It didn’t matter. Every time we’d come back to the present to learn she’d died in a hit-and-run some time that same week. Like it was fated to happen.
“He started wanting to go farther back—a few days before her death, a week earlier, then to her childhood. But I was only seven at the time and that sort of bending was draining me like crazy. He got angry.” Teddy rubbed his jaw and looked at his feet. There was more to this story, Piper could sense, but if he didn’t want to share it, she wouldn’t pry.
“I’ve only lived here a year, but I love Mallory Estate,” Teddy said after a moment. “I met Kenji, and Julius, and Camilla. We get to study magi history and strengthen our skills—and gosh, have I improved since I started receiving proper training. Plus, I don’t have to hide my affinity from hollows here. It’s been great … at least until I learned that Mrs. Mallory was after me. Figures that this place was too good to be true.”
“What about your birth parents?” Piper asked.
Teddy shrugged. “No idea. I barely remember them, but I think they were magi too, because I’ve always known about affinities. The state refuses to tell me what happened to them. I’m guessing it was pretty awful and they’re trying to spare me, but I’m ten now. I can handle it.”
Piper nodded, understanding all too well. The doctors were always trying to spare her. Aunt Eva, too. But she just wanted the truth, even if it was hard.
“Well, this is my exit,” Piper announced as they reached the stag statues.
Teddy stared, incredulous.
“Can’t you see the portal?” She pointed at the shimmering disk between the stag’s antlers.
“I’ve had garden duty every day since I’ve been here. If there was a portal, I would know.” Teddy sounded downright offended.
“Well, it’s there,” Piper said, and explained what it looked like. Teddy peered at the statue doubtfully. “It’s probably just as well that you can’t see it. You were trying to stay hidden.”
“I guess,” he said. “But why can you see it and I can’t?”
“Maybe you need to see it with the spyglass first.”
Teddy looked unconvinced. “Yeah, maybe.”
Piper climbed the statue. It was awkward and difficult, but soon she was sitting on the nose of the stag, looking through the shimmering portal between the antlers. She could make out the patio, populated with furniture. Luckily no one was outside.
“Hey, Piper?”
She looked over her shoulder.
“I’m really glad to have met you. Even if you do root for the spawn of the devil.” Teddy’s eyes flicked to her cap.
Despite the insult, Piper felt herself smiling. “I’m glad to have met you, too, Theodore Leblanc. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” And with that, she passed through the shimmering doorway.
Chapter Eleven Disappearing Act
Piper’s feet had barely hit the patio when the entry hall’s French doors opened and the children of Mallory Estate came spilling through, Julius in the lead. He pulled up, frowning when he saw her. “Where have you been all morning?”
Had she really been in the garden that long? Time must have gotten away from her.
“Just getting a head start,” she said quickly, hoping they hadn’t seen her coming through the portal.
“On garden duty?” Camilla’s face scrunched up doubtfully. Today she was wearing a tank top that said A FORCE TO BE RECKONED WITH. “You don’t even know your affinity yet.”
“I was just trying to get familiar with the layout.”
“See anything interestin
g?” Camilla asked. “Because we share everything.”
“No. But I was thinking … maybe we’re going about this wrong. Maybe there’s something we need to find first. Like a key.”
Julius arched a brow. “A key? Why a key? Are you not telling us something?”
“Yeah, friends don’t keep secrets,” Camilla added.
“I thought we weren’t friends,” Piper pointed out.
“We’re not. I mean, we sure won’t be if you’re hiding something.”
“Not hiding,” Piper insisted. “Just trying to find a way into the garden like the rest of you. And I was thinking that when things are hidden, or locked away, you usually need to unlock them first.”
“There’s a gate on the garden’s east wall,” Kenji said. “It’s not locked or anything, but there is a keyhole.”
“Interesting.” Julius pursed his lips.
Camilla snorted. “You really think that’s the entrance?”
“It’s something we haven’t tried yet.” Julius turned to Kenji. “Can you go check it out?”
With a nod and a flip of his collar, Kenji blinked from existence. Piper looked anywhere but at Camilla, who was glowering like a disapproving parent.
Kenji reappeared on the patio, causing Piper to flinch. “Given the state of the keyhole, we’re looking for something old.”
Camilla rolled her eyes. “What a surprise.”
“Teeth no more than an inch tall,” Kenji continued. “Likely bronze or gold to match the gate’s other hardware.”
“You really think it’s that simple?” Camilla said, now staring down Julius. “That the entire garden was hidden by magic but a boring old key will open it up?”
“Teddy would say it was worth looking into,” Kenji muttered.
Piper felt a twinge of guilt. She knew it wasn’t smart to admit she’d found Teddy—not yet at least—but as Kenji looked longingly at the garden, she wished she could tell him that his friend was okay.
“Kenji and Camilla,” Julius said, “you guys start with the first floor inside. Piper and I will handle the grounds.”
“I’ll search the carriage house,” Piper offered, and broke into a jog, feeling Camilla’s eyes on her back. She didn’t believe Piper. And for good reason. Piper knew she was sending them all on a wild-goose chase. Her mother had trapped Teddy inside the garden and had probably already dug up the key. But Piper continued to the carriage house anyway. She didn’t have to search long to confirm Teddy’s story.
Crawling beneath an antique car, she found a loose floorboard and lifted it. A small hole had been dug in the dirt. It was empty. The key had already been claimed.
And chances were it was in a restricted area of Mallory Estate.
* * *
Piper spent the rest of the day formulating a plan, and by the evening, she was ready. She waited until everyone was likely asleep and then she waited a bit longer. When the clock on her nightstand read one a.m., she slid from bed and nudged the doors to her balcony open. The hinges were old and rusty, and they squeaked no matter how careful she was.
She froze on the threshold, waiting, listening. The night was humid, the air heavy on her skin, but nerves made her shiver. When she was certain no one had heard her—especially not the Persian—she stepped onto the balcony and turned her attention to the ivy that covered the house. It was thick, like a blanket of rope. Piper grabbed a fistful and tugged. Thankfully strong, too, rooted deep into the bricks. She started climbing before she could lose her courage.
Soon she was on the turret—where all the ivy seemed to lead—working her way around its curved form, toward a window just below the roofline. It was unlocked. She pushed it open, crawled through, and collapsed on an unfinished wood floor. Dust billowed around her, nearly causing her to sneeze.
Piper held her breath, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness.
She was in what appeared to be an attic. Boxes and crates littered the space. A settee and dresser were draped in pale sheets. A child’s desk and chair were covered in dust. Across the way there was a hole in the floor, where a winding staircase descended to the lower levels of the turret. Piper could make out the steep steps in a floor-length mirror that was propped against the wall just beside the stairway.
This place would take hours to search. The turret was four floors tall, and it was possible her mother hadn’t even brought the key up here. It could be down two levels, stowed safely in Sophia’s bedroom, or even hidden in the office on the first floor. Piper considered the stairs.
No. She should start here. Do this methodically. If she couldn’t find the key tonight, she could try the lower floors tomorrow. But where to start …
She moved to the desk. Painted white, it seemed to glow in the moonlight that cut through the open window. The left side had two standard legs, but the right was solid, made of a stack of three drawers. Piper tugged the first drawer open.
Inside was a framed black-and-white picture. She lifted it out, blowing dust from the glass. An image of her mother and grandmother stared back, only Sophia was roughly Piper’s age, and her grandmother the age of Sophia now. The young Sophia was smiling, but much like Piper’s father, the smile didn’t reach her eyes. Melena M. Mallory stood behind her, a hand resting on the girl’s shoulder.
Piper reached for the next thing in the drawer—a journal. She angled it toward the moonlight and opened it. This journal belongs to Sophia Mallory, read the first page. Piper flipped through, pausing to read a dog-eared entry.
Still no signs of my affinity. Mom is getting frustrated. She keeps saying that some magi don’t find their affinity until nearly fifteen, but I can tell she’s saying this more for herself than me. What do I care if I can’t teleport or manipulate elements or bend time? Not a single person at school can either, and what’s the point of having powers if you can never use them?
Mom says the world fears magi, that we have to keep our affinities secret from anyone who doesn’t have their own. It seems not having an affinity would make life a whole lot easier.
Tomorrow we’re trying hypnosis. She says that my affinity might reveal itself if I’m in a more relaxed mental state. Gag. I can’t wait to get out of this place. It hasn’t been the same since Dad died, and once I leave, I’m never coming back.
The entry date put Sophia at thirteen. There were plenty of pages left in the journal, but Sophia hadn’t written anything else.
Piper frowned. This didn’t match anything she knew. If her mother couldn’t wait to leave Mallory Estate, why had she abandoned Piper and returned here?
Piper reached blindly into the back of the drawer. It was crammed with brittle school papers and notes scribbled to classmates. The second drawer held a pencil case and an old yearbook.
This was pointless.
If Sophia had found and hidden the key, why would she put it in the attic? What Piper needed was to get into Sophia’s room. Maybe she could sneak in during the children’s Friday lesson … so long as the Persian didn’t follow.
Overwhelmed, Piper sat in the chair that accompanied the desk—and promptly fell to the floor as the old legs cracked beneath her.
Dust billowed.
Piper froze solid, the noise of the crash echoing through the estate. For what felt like an hour, she held deathly still, too terrified to move.
And then, from below: a faint mew.
Trembling, Piper dove behind the desk. She peered around the solid stack of drawers and watched the mirror near the stairwell. A shadow moved in the glass. Then white fur. The Persian.
Piper pulled back, hiding from view, fist clenched around her locket. This was it. The Persian would find her and then her mother would arrive. Piper would disappear the way Melena M. Mallory had. Teddy would be stuck in the garden forever.
Regret lanced Piper. She should have told the other kids what she’d accomplished in the garden. She shouldn’t have kept anything secret.
The Persian meowed again, closer this time. Most definitely in the atti
c. Adult footsteps followed. Piper heard them transition from stairs to wooden floorboards. She could barely breathe.
The Persian’s mewling grew louder. It was so close now, maybe just feet from the desk. Piper squeezed her locket harder, wanting nothing more than to sink into the floor.
The cat rounded the desk and stared at Piper. Its yellow eyes gleamed wickedly. It cocked its head, blinked.
And then, to Piper’s astonishment, it yawned and turned away.
Sophia appeared next, wearing a bathrobe that hung open over silk pajamas, her hair piled loosely atop her head. She walked within an inch of the school desk, but her gaze never dipped toward Piper.
“You must have sensed a mouse,” she said bitterly to the Persian, and nudged the cat with her foot. “Back to bed. It’s too late for this nonsense.”
The Persian hissed but turned toward the stairs.
When their shadows had disappeared from the attic and their footsteps had faded, Piper finally exhaled.
They hadn’t seen her. It was as if she had vanished, as if she’d …
The ground seemed to shift as Piper made sense of what had happened.
All those times she’d felt ignored at school and at the hospital, how the fake security guards hadn’t been able to find her in the pile of stuffed animals at the aquarium, the way her mother hadn’t seen her playing peekaboo in the closet, and the way the Persian had overlooked her just now.
It was because she wasn’t there. She really had disappeared.
Piper’s affinity was invisibility, and she was pretty sure her locket was her amplifier.
Chapter Twelve The Four Stags
It had been a brisk October morning when Piper first put on the locket.
Atticus had thrown open one of the front windows of the bungalow and called out, “Get in here! I have something for you.” Piper had abandoned the tire swing and skipped happily inside; “I have something for you” was code for “Want a present?”
