13 Secrets (33 page)

A spiral of smoke curled into the air from a small campfire. From where she was, she could make out Crooks’s dark shock of hair and Suki’s petite form against the tall bulk of Samson and Victor. Sparrow was also with them, despite having stayed overnight in one of the spare rooms at the manor. Every now and then one of them looked toward the house. She could not tell if they saw her, although Oberon skirted the outside of the garden walls in plain view, sniffing here and there and turning back to her with
frequent encouraging looks as though to try and coax her beyond the gate.

“I can’t, boy,” she told him. “I’m not allowed to leave the garden.” She whistled to him and turned, startled to see Warwick standing on the path behind her.

He looked toward the caravans. “Already been over this morning myself—Florence offered to have them here for breakfast, but they declined. Polite enough, but they’re funny folk. Keep to themselves.”

“When’s Tino coming?” she asked.

“This morning,” Warwick replied. “He said he needed to be there when the rest of the circus pack everything up, but as soon as that’s done he’ll be here with Merchant.”

Tanya closed the gate as Oberon came back into the garden.

“Are you all packed?” Warwick asked.

She scowled. “Yes.”

He nodded. “I’ll meet you out front in an hour.”

“Until then I might as well make myself useful,” said Tanya.

Warwick grunted, scuffing the earth underfoot.

“Is that a yes?”

“Find Fabian and Rowan,” he muttered. “You can help them, for now. And remind them that none of you are to leave the grounds of the house.”

Tanya went indoors. She found Rowan and Fabian on the first floor, in Fabian’s room.

“Are you leaving now?” Rowan asked, as Tanya entered. “We’ll come downstairs to say good-bye properly.”

“Not yet. Warwick says I should help you.” Her eyes rested on two half-open black trash bags on the bed. “What are you doing?”

“Filling these with red fabric,” said Fabian. “Florence says we need to search the whole house. It can be clothes, sheets, towels, curtains, anything. Collect it all.” He closed one of his drawers and opened another, rifling through his things.

“I’ll make a start on the second floor,” said Rowan. “Most of the rooms are empty but there’s that old cupboard full of junk. Tanya, you look in the other rooms on this floor.”

A few minutes later, Warwick’s voice echoed up through the hall. Tino had arrived. Tanya led the way downstairs, with Fabian and Rowan close behind.

Everyone had gathered. It was a bizarre assembly: the inhabitants of Elvesden Manor, the remaining Coven members, and Morag. The kitchen was full, with the back door open and a few people spilling out into the garden. People murmured among themselves, eyes darting around to assess each other.

“Where’s Oberon?” Tanya asked her grandmother. “I can’t see him.”

“I had to shut him in the pantry,” Florence answered. “He started growling again.”

Tanya frowned.

“Good one.” Fabian rolled his eyes. “There goes the food supply—but at least it’ll keep him quiet for a while.”

Florence’s mouth dropped open and she rushed into the pantry. A minute later she emerged with a sneezing, white-nosed Oberon, straining against his collar. “Up to his neck in flour,” she said tightly. “This dog of yours really will eat anything.” She maneuvered him out of the kitchen, pulling him back as he lunged toward the newcomers.

“Listen up,” Warwick called once she’d returned. The murmurs ceased. “We don’t know each other, but we all know why we’re here. A number of us are being hunted.” He glanced at Morag. “And others are caught in the crossfire. So far, as individuals, we haven’t fared well. But together we stand a chance of beating whoever, or whatever, is after us. At the moment we have only one lead—a fey man named Eldritch who has good reason to want revenge against Rowan, or Red, as you know her, and against myself.

“We also know that he had contacts involved in the changeling trade, which is a possible motive against the Coven, and that he has a strong command of using glamour for a prolonged amount of time.”

Tanya felt Rowan shiver beside her.

“Whoever is doing this knows the movements of the Coven,” said Tino. “By coming here we may have bought some time, but to lead the trail here
we’ve had to leave clues. However, we’ve no idea how soon our location will filter through. It could well be that we have a spy within the circus, in which case I believe we may have a day or two to prepare, if we’re lucky. And preparation is the key.”

“If it’s known that we’re all together maybe the attacks will stop,” said Rowan. “They’ve been attacking one by one, taking us by surprise. Perhaps they won’t be so bold now.”

Tino narrowed his eyes. “Or perhaps they’ll relish the opportunity to try and slaughter us in one fell swoop.”

“Some of us have already made a start gathering defense materials,” said Warwick. “Once we know what we’ve got we can work on where to implement it. Rowan and Fabian, you two carry on collecting red fabric—anything you can find. We’ll drape it in the windows to disguise the entrances to the house that aren’t being defended. Any smaller items can either be worn or sewn together and made larger.

“Tanya, I want you to check the pantry and use any salt to seal up remaining windows and doors—again, not the ones that are being defended or used by the Coven. The fey members need to be able to cross those ones. Save a little, and then empty all of Nell’s cleaning products away and fill the spray bottles with salt water. Once you’ve filled them, bring them to the kitchen.

“Rose, you collect anything made of iron—knives, pokers, horseshoes, nails—whatever you can find,
and bring it back here. We’ll amass all potential weapons here and decide who’s using what.

“Finally, Florence—I want you to rally the fairies of the house. It’s as much their home to protect as it is ours, and we need their loyalty now more than ever. All of them can help in some way, even if it’s just keeping a lookout.” He stopped speaking and looked to Tino.

“Victor and Samson will be overseeing the weapons, and will take the time to give some basic training to anyone who needs it,” said Tino. “We need one room to be a safe room. If or when an attack comes, those who aren’t either fighting or acting as lookouts will be in that room—and you’ll be guarding it, Sparrow.” He glanced at Florence. “It needs to be a room with an escape route, if possible.”

“I think… the library,” Florence said. She brushed an errant wisp of white hair away from her face. “There’s a one-way escape passage—people can leave, but there’s no way through into the house from it due to a fault of some kind with the door when it was built.”

“I marked the way out with a ball of string when I was using the tunnels as a hideout,” Rowan added. “It leads straight to the graveyard.”

“Perfect,” said Tino. “Crooks, I want you to organize a lockup. By that I mean a secure room to hold enemies in, if any are captured. Killing is only to be in self-defense or as a last resort—we don’t need any more repercussions. Anyone held can later be taken to the courts.”

“Or, at the very least, interrogated,” Merchant put in darkly.

“Agreed,” said Tino. “And again, we’ll need the most suitable room.”

A strange look crossed Florence’s face. “I…” She stopped and caught Warwick’s eye. “There is something. Not quite a room, but a… place, in the house, that we found once—accidentally—years ago.”

Warwick nodded. “More of a space than a room—about the size of a cupboard.”

“Do you mean a priest hole?” Fabian asked suspiciously. “I asked you once if this house ever had one, and you said no.”

“It’s not a priest hole, exactly,” said Warwick. “The house isn’t old enough for that. But it’s something similar—whether it was intended to be a hiding place or something like a self-styled prison cell, we’re not sure. Elvesden’s wealth meant he was a man who feared for his safety, and it seems the idea of something like a priest hole appealed to him.”

“We never told anyone about it because it’s dangerous,” said Florence. “Once you’re in it, you can’t get out without somebody else opening it from the other side. We always feared somebody getting stuck in it.” She looked at Fabian and Tanya. “Playing hide-and-seek, perhaps. That’s why we kept it a secret.”

“Well, where is it?” Fabian demanded.

“It’s in the old music room,” Warwick said.

“The one you always keep locked?”

“Yes. And the fewer people who know exactly where it is, the better. If Crooks is to be in charge of it, then we’ll show it to him, but no one else.”

Fabian pursed his lips.

“What about me?” asked Suki.

“You stay in here with Morag,” said Tino. “She’s your only hope of lifting the hex on your abilities.”

“Can you remember the symbols you found?” Morag asked her.

“Yes, I think so,” said Suki, closing her eyes. “I’ll try to draw it for you.”

“Good,” said Tino. “The rest of us—Warwick, Merchant, and myself, will discuss the next steps. Is everyone clear on what they need to do?”

There was a unified murmur of assent.

“Good,” said Tino again. “Let’s get to work.”

Since Amos’s death, none of the rooms on the second floor of the house were occupied, though the old man’s belongings still remained as though he might return any moment. They sat waiting for the day that Warwick would be ready to face them. Upon emptying the cupboard of junk, Rowan found four red cushion covers, stained with age. She added them to her bag and piled everything else back in the cupboard, not quite as neatly as she had found it, and moved on.

The other rooms, or at least those that were
unlocked, were devoid of much furniture. She made a mental note of one room with tattered curtains of crimson velvet and then went to the alcove in which a wall tapestry concealed the hidden door to the servants’ staircase. Again, her search of the rooms it led to proved fruitless, and so Rowan went in the other direction, up to the attic. Gaps in the roof allowed some light in to guide her. She emerged from the alcove thirty minutes later covered in dust and with little to show for it.

Through a small window overlooking the back of the house she caught sight of flashes of light bouncing off shards of silver below. Victor was throwing knives, one by one, at the horse chestnut tree. To the rear of the garden Merchant and Samson were parrying, each with a sword that must have belonged to Victor. Beyond the walls, Tino was locked in conversation with Warwick, who stood sharpening the blade of his iron dagger.

A slight scrabble sounded from the roof above the window, and she wondered if birds, or even rats, were nesting in the roof.

She shuddered and hauled her cargo of fabric to the top of the stairs, ready for distribution, and then descended the staircase. Down on the first floor she saw that Fabian was having better luck. His bag brimmed, and he had even started a new pile. She left him to it and continued downstairs. On the landing, Florence was speaking earnestly to the grandfather clock.

“… and if you see anything, or hear anything
suspicious, you’re to make the clock chime loudly, very loudly. Is that clear?”

Rowan fought an insane urge to laugh as she imagined the scene from an outsider’s point of view. Florence’s solemn words to the clock would appear to be utter madness.

She squeezed past and jumped the last few stairs to the bottom. In the dining room, Morag and Suki were poring over some circular drawings.

“There was a picture of me here,” Suki was saying, a pencil in her mouth. “And then the symbols were something like this….”

Rowan carried on past Tanya, who was carefully arranging salt on windowsills, until she glimpsed Sparrow in the library. She stopped in the doorway, her heart quickening.

“Looking for the secret passageway?” she asked.

He turned and shrugged, grinning. “I give up. Where is it?”

“Hang on,” she said. “Back in a minute.” She darted into the kitchen to collect another trash bag from the cupboard under the sink. Already the room was starting to resemble an armory. The huge oak table was clear of kitchenware and instead had begun to fill with other objects. Ironware, knives, and a skein of gossamer-like thread stood in the company of two large cages. On the other side of the cages, a vat of an ugly green liquid had been placed next to some smaller, empty bottles, and beyond that was Warwick’s air rifle.