13 Secrets (29 page)

“You don’t need me there to do that.”

“No, but I thought we’d decided to stick together.” He reached for her arm. “Even if you go back to the house, there’s no guarantee you’ll be safe.”

“I know that.” She glanced at Crooks, then lowered her voice. “I’m going to leave, tonight.”

“What? Why?”

“All this is happening because of me. It’s
me
Eldritch wants, and he’s going to cut down anyone in his path in order to get to me. If I’m at Elvesden Manor then that includes Tanya and Fabian and everyone else who’s there. If I’m not around… if he knows I’m gone, then he’ll stop coming after the rest of you. You’ll be safe.”

Sparrow’s eyes searched her face. “You’re not seeing the whole picture, Red. If he wants you that badly, he’ll find you. He won’t stop looking. And you’ll be all on your own, with no one to help you.”

“He won’t find me. I can vanish. I can stay missing.” She tilted her chin, defiant. “I know places where I can go. It’s what I do, remember?”

Sparrow gazed at her. “All right. Then I’ll come with you.”

“No! Sparrow—”

He was no longer by her side, but striding toward Crooks.

“What’s going on?” Crooks asked, suspicious.

“Nothing.” Sparrow’s tone was clipped. “Let’s get back.” He turned back to Rowan. “Just ten minutes, all right? That’s all. Then we’ll go to the house.”

Helpless, she turned and stared into the deserted lanes leading to the manor, then at Sparrow’s and Crooks’s retreating backs. “Ten minutes,” she muttered, setting off after them. “And that’s it.”

A large white van blocked the entrance to the field when they reached it. The engine was still running, and the driver’s door was open. Rowan followed Crooks and Sparrow as they squeezed past the sides to find Samson at the rear in a heated conversation with the driver.

“I can’t find Tino—haven’t seen him all morning.” Samson’s arms were folded. He towered over the driver. “But I’m telling you, nothing’s been ordered.”

The driver pointed to his clipboard. “It has according to this. It doesn’t have to be this Tino who signs for it, but it was ordered yesterday—you can check the details yourself. There it is, see?” He tapped the top sheet. “That’s the reference: ‘Curiosity.’ ”

“Something for the Cabinet?” Crooks asked, peering over the driver’s shoulder to look at the clipboard.

“Apparently.” Samson remained stone-faced. “Only Tino never mentioned anything about a delivery, and he’s conveniently gone off somewhere.”

“What do you mean?” asked Sparrow. Rowan heard the alarm in his voice. “Gone off where?”

Samson shrugged, but stood up a little straighter
and unfolded his arms. “No one’s seen him since this morning.”

“Look, I haven’t got all day. Can someone just sign for this?” The driver glanced back at his van. “Anyone? It’s all paid for.”

“I don’t like this,” said Sparrow. He reached for the clipboard. “What is it? And who sent it?”

“Sender’s details can be verified at the office.” The driver handed him a card. “And whatever it is, it needs to be kept cold.”

Sparrow squiggled in the signature box and returned the clipboard. “Cold?”

The driver took the clipboard and threw it onto the front seat.

“That’s right.” He stepped to the rear and pulled down the back of the van to create a level platform. A waft of cool air descended as it hit the humid outdoors, and wreaths of vapor curled into the air. Inside, the van was carefully stowed with bulky packages.

“Ice sculptures,” the driver explained. “We do a big trade in them for parties, weddings mainly.” He hopped up onto the platform and went toward a large wooden crate. It was almost as tall as he was and stood on a metal trolley. Releasing the brake, he lugged it onto the platform, then pressed a button on the side of the van. The platform lowered slowly to the ground, whirring and shuddering under its heavy load.

“What’s inside?” Rowan asked. She stared into
the van, eyeing the other sculptures, but they were covered in plastic sheeting and bubble wrap.

“I haven’t seen it.” The driver wheeled the trolley off the platform. “It’s not one of our designs—it’s collection and delivery only. Where do you want it?”

“Over there.” Sparrow gestured toward the Curiosity Cabinet.

“Here, let me,” said Samson, taking the trolley from the driver. The crate rattled over the uneven ground, but he pulled it easily, guiding it inside the tent.

“There’s no space for it,” Sparrow muttered, glancing around the shadowy interior. “It’s full. Just leave it here, by the door.”

Rowan followed them inside, apprehension growing in her gut. She had never liked the Curiosity Cabinet, with its glass cases of shrunken heads and dried, shriveled creatures, stitched together into freakish creations. It gave her the creeps.

She averted her eyes and concentrated on the trolley. At the press of a lever, the two metal prongs holding the crate sighed to the ground. Samson withdrew the trolley and handed it back to the driver.

“Now what?” said Crooks.

Sparrow drew back the tent opening and watched as Samson accompanied the driver back to his van. Moments later it rumbled away, and Samson could be seen coming back. The inside of the tent fell into gloom momentarily as he brushed through the opening, his massive bulk filling the entrance to the tent.

“Do we open it?” asked Crooks.

Samson edged around the crate. “Can’t see a way in—it’s all nailed up. We’ll have to force it.” He glanced at Crooks. “What have you got in the way of tools?”

Crooks’s sly gaze slid over the crate. “A crowbar should do it.” He exited the tent.

“Why would Tino order something new for the cabinet now?” said Rowan.

“Tonight is the last show,” Samson answered. “Maybe he wanted something special for the grand finale.” He frowned. “But if it’s ice, wouldn’t it have melted by then?”

“The driver never said Tino ordered it,” Sparrow interrupted. “All he said was that it was
for
Tino. When was the last time anyone saw him?”

“This morning, like I said,” Samson replied. “Outside Suki’s caravan, after she found the hex.” His eyes flitted from Sparrow to Rowan. “Didn’t you two and Crooks go back to Dawn’s today?”

Sparrow opened his mouth to answer, but was saved by Crooks’s return. Victor and Suki were with him.

“Here.” He thrust the crowbar at Samson. “Are you sure we should do this? I mean, with Tino not being here…”

“That’s exactly why I’m sure.” Samson swung the crowbar at the crate, hooking a plank of wood and tugging it away easily. “Tino’s gone and we’re left with a strange delivery. Something’s not right.” More
wood split under the crowbar. Victor joined him, using a small knife to pry the edges of the wood apart.

“Can you see what it is yet?” Rowan asked, standing back with Sparrow.

Another length of wood hit the ground. “No—it’s covered in plastic.”

“Whatever it is, it seems to be a solid cube,” Victor muttered, slitting the plastic. “It’s not sculpted.”

Rowan nudged Sparrow for the card supplied by the driver. On the back were a few small pictures showing sculpted forms of a castle, and a pair of swans, and other objects encased in ice.

“It’s something held in the ice, then,” she called. “On the back here, there’s a picture—a red rose at the center of an ice block.”

Victor tugged a section of plastic away, letting it fall to the ground. He pressed his face closer to the ice. “It’s something big… can’t quite make it out—”

He broke off, staggering back. And with that, Rowan knew.

“Who…” she choked out. “Who is it? Tino…?”

The crowbar slipped from Samson’s hand and landed with a thud on the grassy ground. “It can’t be….” He brushed his hand over the ice. “Could be something else… a mannequin, perhaps. It
has
to be.” Recovering himself, he picked up the crowbar and set to work again, his movements frantic this time. The wooden casing fell apart, no match for his strength, and he lifted the rest of the plastic off in one smooth motion.

“That’s not a mannequin,” Crooks whispered.

It was not Tino, either. The man inside the ice sat on a chair, staring out through his frozen window. His prison obscured his hard features a little; a hawkish nose and a jutting jaw appeared softer through the thick layers of ice. On his lap a silver goblet rested, his hand curved around the base. Around the center of the ice block, near the man’s chest, frozen swirls of red leaked from a small tear in his clothing.

“Cobbler,” Suki whispered, her hands flying to her mouth.

Rowan had no words. She simply stared at the frozen body, as unable to move as it was.

“Cover him…
it
… up!” Victor gasped.

Samson reached out with one hand, the plastic sheeting still clenched in the other. He lightly rested his fingers on the ice. After a few seconds he withdrew them and rubbed them together.

“It’s not melting under my touch. It’s enchanted somehow.”

“What do we do?” Crooks hissed. “What are we going to
do
with him?”

“We’ve got two options,” said Samson. “We cover him up or leave him uncovered. Either way, it needs to stay here for the time being until we work out what to do.” He gestured to their surroundings. “Apart from us, no one here has even met Cobbler. No one will suspect this is a real person—they’ll assume it’s a fraud, like the other stuff in here.”

Victor nodded slowly, casting his eyes around.
“Samson’s right. Leave him uncovered—it’ll draw more attention otherwise.” His eyes glimmered with unshed tears before he averted them. “First Fix, now Cobbler…”

“And Dawn,” Sparrow added, breaking his silence.

Victor spun to face him, aghast.

“No….” murmured Suki, shaking her head. “Not Dawn….”

“It’s true,” said Rowan. “We were at her caravan today. Not expecting to find her, but looking for something,
anything
… a clue. But she was there all along. Sparrow found her… she was on the roof.”

“On the
roof
?” Samson moved closer.

“Tied to the rack,” said Sparrow. “By her wrists and her ankles, which suggests she was alive when she was put there. She’d been there a while, I’m guessing since Merchant first found she was missing. The crows had been at her….”

“But she—if she was out there all that time… the sunlight would have…”

“The sunlight would have killed her,” Rowan finished.

“Why?” Suki’s voice was weak. “Why would someone do that to her?”

“Why would someone put Cobbler in a block of ice?” Victor shot back, his voice rising. “Why would someone poison Fix? Whoever wanted them dead—whoever is attacking us—is going to a lot of trouble in their methods. Think about it.” He jabbed his fin
ger at Cobbler’s frozen resting place. “He was already dead, or dying, when he was put in that—the wound is visible!”

“Keep the noise down.” Samson took a hasty glance outside the entrance. “This isn’t the time or the place—”

“Then let’s
make
a time and a place,” Victor hissed, his hands clenching into fists. “And where the hell is Tino?”

“Exactly,” said Samson. “If he’s vanished, then it could mean he’s next….”

“B-but,” Crooks stammered. “Not here, not with everyone around—we’re safe here, aren’t we?”

“Right. So safe someone put a hex on me, right under our noses!” Suki snapped. “All I’ve been able to do is wash everything down with salt water, in case anything else of mine has been tampered with. But as for that thing—that symbol—under the caravan, we can’t even find out what it means or how to get rid of it without Tino!”

Victor sheathed his knife and pushed the curtain aside. “Follow me.”

“Where are we going?” asked Sparrow.

“To try and find Tino.”

Rowan batted her way out of the tent, Sparrow at her side. “I thought you said people had been searching for him all day?”

“I said no one had
seen
him all day,” Samson answered. “There’s a difference.”

They all followed as he weaved his way past the
performance area and through to the caravans. A few of the circus folk were about, and Suki was called away by one of the dancers. She went with a grudging glance at the group, the rest of whom carried on without her. When they arrived at Tino’s, Samson pounded on the door.

“Tino? Open up if you’re there.” He knocked once more, and then turned to Crooks. “I’m not wasting any more time. Get it open.”

Crooks pulled a bunch of keys from his pocket, taking a moment to look through them before selecting one. In seconds the door lay open. He stepped aside as Victor and Samson barged past him. “I’m not going in,” he muttered.

Neither Rowan nor Sparrow said anything, but both of them remained outside. The heavy tread of the two brothers sounded through the caravan from one end to the other. Victor reappeared at the door. “He’s not here, and there’s no sign of him.”

Tentatively, Rowan stepped up into the caravan. Sparrow and Crooks came after her, but stayed close to the door. “Is anything disturbed?”

Samson stood by the racks of costumes on the walls, looking up at the row of masks. “Doesn’t look like it.” He reached for a mask that had fallen off the wall onto the floor.