Ravencliffe (Blythewood series) (36 page)

I opened my eyes when the vibrations ceased.

“What is it?” I asked.

“It’s a protective shield designed by Mr. Humphreys,” Dame Beckwith said, smiling at the old clockmaker.

“I couldn’t have done it if my apprentice hadn’t told me about the clocks in Violet House,” Mr. Humphreys said, smiling at Raven.

“It was Uncle Taddie who gave me the idea,” Raven said modestly. “He showed me how his father had made the clocks to protect the house. I told Mr. Humphreys about them, but I didn’t know what he’d do.”

“Mr. Humphreys told me,” Dame Beckwith said, “and I referred him to Mr. Gilbert and Mr. Woolworth. We thought if the clocks could protect a house, then perhaps a larger version of them could protect a whole city.”

“That’s why van Drood wanted to destroy the building?” I said.

“Yes,” Mrs. van Hassel said, “which we might have anticipated had anyone alerted the Council to this clock project.”

“It was to be unveiled after the official opening ceremony,” Dame Beckwith replied, glaring at Mrs. van Hassel. “Of course we didn’t know that van Drood had found out about the clocks or had infiltrated Blythewood with the dancing master.”

“It seems to me that if you ran your school properly such things would not happen,” Mrs. van Hassel sniped back at Dame Beckwith.

“We all have our weaknesses.”

The voice came from above, from the ledge where my father perched. He pushed himself off the ledge and glided to the center of the room, his wings rustling with the sound of paper. He looked at me as he spoke. “Van Drood uses our weaknesses against us, as a crack to let in the
tenebrae
. He used my own fears to convince me to leave my beloved and my child years ago instead of taking them with me into exile, and he’s used our animosity against each other to make us weak. All these years he’s plotted to destroy both of us: the Order for prohibiting his marriage to Evangeline, and the Darklings because of Evangeline’s love for me. But what started as petty jealousy and resentment has grown into a hatred for all mankind—and Darklingkind and faykind. We are all at risk. Van Drood’s ambitions have only grown with his hatred.”

“It’s true,” Professor Jager said, rising from his seat. “The
tenebrae
have been gathering throughout Europe, seeding dissent and hatred in the Balkan States, infiltrating governments in Austria, France, England—even our brother school Hawthorn has been attacked this year. We believe that van Drood is planning a great war, one that will cause such turmoil and pain among mankind that his shadows will have dominion forever.”

“Then we must stop him!” Mrs. van Hassel cried, rapping her cane on the brass floor. “The Order must stand strong, as it always has, to defeat the powers of evil. We must not allow ourselves to be compromised by Darklings and demons now of all times—”

“No!” Miss Corey slid down from her ledge in one graceful movement and came to stand beside my father. “Now of all times is exactly when we must join with the Darklings against the shadows. That’s what Dame Alcyone knew and wrote about in her book. She foresaw there would come a time when the shadows would threaten to overcome the world and that the only hope was a joining between the Order and the Darklings. She wrote—” She turned to my father. “If you wouldn’t mind, Mr. Falco.”

“Not at all, Miss Corey,” my father replied. He extended his wings until they filled the entire room. The illuminated pages of Dame Alcyone’s book glimmered like peacock’s eyes amidst his feathers. Miss Corey gently riffled through the pages until she found the place she was looking for, and then read aloud:

“And the shadow will fall between man and Darkling and spread throughout the land, a plague of shadows searching for their lost home. Out of the shards of the broken vessel a new light will shine—a phoenix born of Darkling and human, to drive the shadows away. Unless we two are joined, the third vessel will be broken and the shadows will prevail.”

Mrs. van Hassel tsked. “That’s all very . . .
florid.
How do we know it was really written by Dame Alcyone?”

“Because,” Mrs. Calendar said in a reedy but clear voice, “that line—
Out of the shards of the broken vessel a new light will shine
—is part of the secret code of the Order. Only a member of the Order would know it.”

Lucretia Fisk spoke up. “Junessa’s right, you know. We learned that in codes and sigils senior year.”

“That’s all very well for you.” Gos sneered from his perch. “How do we know this isn’t a trick to entrap the Darklings?”

“Because,” Wren replied, “we have a prophesy, too—that when a phoenix is fledged our curse will end.”

“But who—” Gos began.

Raven and Miss Sharp and Miss Corey were all looking at me. I took off my cloak. Miss Janeway had made me a special shirtwaist and undergarment (corsets, she had told me, were on their way out) to allow my wings to unfold without tearing or burning my clothes. I spread them now, and heard the indrawn breath of Darkling and human alike. I felt the heat in my own face at being stared at, but then I remembered my promise.

“We’ve only talked about Darklings and humans,” I said. “But we’re nothing without the fairies and the other magicals who helped us defeat van Drood. We have to all join together.”

As I waited for a reply I felt more exposed than I’d ever felt before. But then I looked around and saw that I was surrounded by glowing faces. It was the reflection of my wings in the brass walls bathing us all in a golden glow—a glow so strong it banished the shadows.

“I think that’s only fair,” Dame Beckwith said. “What do you say, Ansonia?”

Mrs. van Hassel looked like she wanted to say a lot of unpleasant things, but she only muttered, “I suppose beggars can’t be choosers. I move to suspend all hostilities toward any magical beings who refrain from provoking us.”

“I second the motion,” my grandmother said.

“All in favor?” Professor Jager asked.

Everyone chimed in their agreement.

“Well then,” Professor Jager said, “there are treaties to be drawn up!”

As he sat down on the bench with Master Quill, rubbing his hands together, I drew in my wings and a shadow passed over the skylight. I looked up, frightened it was a murder of shadow crows, but saw instead an enormous silvery balloon suspended above the tower.

“Ah, the dirigible is here,” Mr. Humphreys declared. “Mr. Woolworth ordered it for us. You’d best hurry,” he told Raven and me, “if you want to catch a ride back to Blythewood.”

Raven looked at me and I grabbed his hand. “We have to,” I said, “if only to see Cam’s reaction.”

He grinned and pulled me from the room, leaving behind the adults to their treaties and declarations. We passed Omar and Delilah as they were called inside the tower room and rushed up the spiral steps to the observatory deck where the giant silver-skinned dirigible was moored to the slender pinnacle of the tower. Cam was already on the plank laid down to the dirigible’s door. A flock of Blythewood girls stood at the railing, their hair and ribbons tossing in the wind. I saw Nathan, hands in his pockets, chatting with a uniformed engineer. “I bet you want to talk to him, too,” I said to Raven.

“I would like to know how they keep such an ungainly thing in the air.”

I released his hand and watched him join Nathan and the engineer.

“If you don’t watch out, those two will run off and join the British air force just so they can fly about in those dreadful machines.” It was Helen. I turned around to find her in a wheelchair pushed by Daisy.

“Nathan’s not going anywhere without you,” Daisy said. “I saw the way he carried you up those stairs.”

Helen smiled. “He has gotten quite remarkably strong carrying me about. I’m going to let him do it for a few more months while we visit Louisa in Vienna and I take a water cure.”

“Let him?” Daisy and I asked together.

Helen peeked around us to make sure no one was watching, but everyone was gathered at the dirigible. Then she stood up.

“Helen!” Daisy cried. “You can—”

Helen clamped a hand over Daisy’s mouth and then sat down, adjusting her skirt daintily over her boots.

“But why?” Daisy asked.

“To give Nathan a mission,” I said. “One he can win. To keep the shadows at bay.”

“Or maybe I just like being carried about,” Helen replied airily. “But it does seem to be keeping Nathan’s mind off his awful father, and when I make a miraculous recovery at Baden-Baden he’ll think he saved me. Gus is coming, too, to try a cure on Louisa—oh, look! They’re boarding. Daisy, do go ask Nathan to carry me aboard. I want to get a good seat.”

Daisy ran toward Nathan, clutching her hat so it wouldn’t get swept off in the wind. I turned back to Helen.

“What about Marlin?” I asked.

“What about him?” Helen asked, blinking her pretty blue eyes up at me.

“You love him, not Nathan.”

“Do I?” Helen asked, tilting her head. “I suppose I do, but Nathan’s my friend and he needs me. And besides—” She looked back toward the railing where Nathan and Raven had been joined by Buzz and Marlin and Cam and two more men in uniform. They were all laughing and smiling, but standing beneath the dirigible cast their faces in shadow. “I have a feeling that soon it’s not going to matter much what we want for ourselves.”

Helen’s words struck a chill in my heart and seemed to echo in my head. I heard the words of the prophesy that Miss Corey had read—
Out of the shards of the broken vessel
—and I heard van Drood’s last words to me:
I have what I need to destroy everything
. Was he talking about the Woolworth Building—or something even bigger? Did he mean the third vessel holding the last of the
tenebrae
? But how could van Drood know where it was?

Then I remembered flying with my father away from the
Titanic
 . . . a crow tearing a page from the book. Could that page have told van Drood where to find the third vessel? And if it did, and van Drood was searching for it now . . .

Below us I could feel the gears of the tower clock revolving, moving us all toward the inevitable future in which we would all be tested.

But then Daisy turned and waved to us, her yellow ribbons streaming in the wind like medieval banners, and I felt my heart lift. Whatever was in store, I’d face it with my friends.

1

“HAVE YOU EVER
wished you had a spell to stop time?”

I turned to my friend and roommate Helen van Beek. We had come to the edge of the Blythe Wood and she had turned to look back over the playing fields and gardens to the great stone castle of our school, Blythewood, glowing golden in the late afternoon sun. Four more girls and one boy were walking toward us. If the moment had been arrested it would have made a fine medieval tapestry, the lawns an emerald carpet stitched with a thousand bright flowers, the stones of the castle and the sleek heads of the girls picked out in gold thread, the boy’s in silver marking him as a nobleman or fairy prince.
The Falconers
, it might have been called, since they each carried a falcon on their gauntleted hands.

The viewers of that tapestry might imagine the girls and the boy were discussing the fine points of falconry or courtly love, but they weren’t.

“A Morane-Saulnier monoplane with a Gnome Omega 7 cylinder engine!” Cam’s excited voice rose into the air, her little kestrel squawking as it attempted to keep its balance on her gesticulating hand. “That’s what I’m going to fly when I get out of here next summer.”

“You should see the hydro-aeroplanes they’ve got over in England now,” Nathan remarked, excitement breaking through the pose of boredom he’d maintained since returning from Europe. “They can take off from ships now. I’m going to join the Royal Navy as soon as I graduate.”

“No more chattering, Dianas,” I called to the others, “we’re on patrol.”

“I thought I made it clear that I was not to be referred to as a Diana,” Nathan drawled. “The male equivalent is Apollo.”

“Diana or Apollo, we’re all here to patrol the woods. Gillie found trow tracks at the edge of the Blythe Wood this morning. We need to scout the perimeter to make sure it hasn’t gotten out.”

“And what are we supposed to do if we find the trow?” Daisy asked.

“Kill it, of course,” Cam said, patting her quiver of arrows.

Before Daisy could object—I knew she had a soft spot for all creatures of Faerie—I said, “Actually, Gillie says we should try to capture it. There’s been an increase in fey activity in the woods lately—creatures straying out of the woods, ransacking local farmyards and orchards, even wandering into town. Gillie thinks something must be scaring them out of the woods.”

“What’s big enough to scare a trow?” Beatrice asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s what we need to find out,” I said. “Nathan and Cam, head toward the river. Bea, Dolores, Daisy, you take the eastern perimeter. Helen and I are going to go into the woods. If anyone finds any sign of the trow, whistle three times. Send your falcon if you need backup. Everybody clear?”

They all nodded, looking a little scared. Of the trow, I wondered, or me? Had I spoken too sharply to them? Well, I didn’t have time to coddle them. We had a trow to find.

I turned to enter the woods with Helen close at my heels. As we passed from the bright sunshine of the lawn into the cool green shadows under the pines, I felt Eirwyn tense on my hand, her talons gripping so tightly I was afraid they’d pierce the thick leather of my glove.

Helen’s peregrine squawked and darted from her glove.

“Frederica!” Helen cried as she watched the falcon rise into the trees. “Where do you think you’re going?”

To a place where no one calls her by that ridiculous name
, I began to say, but then my gyr launched herself from my hand and followed, uttering a high-pitched whistle.

“That’s her hunting call,” I told Helen. “Come on, they’re tracking something.”

I plunged into the woods. My wings itched to unfurl and follow Eirwyn and Frederica in the air, but I didn’t want to leave Helen alone on the ground. Besides, it wasn’t easy flying through the woods with a six-foot wing span, and the falcons were leading us into a denser part of the forest, where the trees grew so close together their branches interlaced overhead in a thick canopy that blocked out the sun. I couldn’t see Eirwyn or Frederica ahead of us, but with my Darkling hearing I could hear Eirwyn’s shrill hunting cry. I followed it into a copse of thorny shrubs that caught at my shirt sleeve and tugged at my skirt.

“Is it my imagination,” Helen asked in a hushed whisper, “or do the trees seem to be moving closer together?”

I halted, my gloved hand raised to push aside a thorny branch, and turned back to look at Helen.

“The last time the woods acted to protect us, so we should be all right.” I turned back and pulled the thorny branch away  . . .

Uncovering the snarling face of a trow.

I screamed and let go of the branch, which slapped the trow across its thick overhanging brow. That only made it angrier. The creature opened its blue-lipped mouth and roared. Hot, rank breath blew into my face—it smelled like rotting meat and ashes.

Trows are naturally vegetarians in their indigenous habitat
. The line from Miles Malmsbury’s
Field Guide to the Lychnobious Peoples
wafted into my head. I’d have to tell him he was wrong—if I lived. I reached for the dagger strapped at my waist as the trow launched itself at me, but before I could unsheathe it I was slammed to the ground by what felt like the proverbial ton of bricks. Only bricks wouldn’t have such bad breath, I thought staring up into two glazed eyes that appeared to be covered in some kind of film behind which dark shapes moved like fish swimming under ice.

I’d seen something like that before—

Then the ice shattered.

Black ooze poured out of its right eye and then the creature’s weight collapsed on top of me. “Mnnn,” it said, then mercifully rolled off me.

“Ava!” Helen was shouting into my face and shaking my arms. She was still grasping her bow with one hand. I turned my head and stared at the trow. One of Helen’s arrows—all of hers were fletched with snow-white dove feathers which she deemed “smarter” than the dull brown ones the rest of us used—had gone straight through the back of its head and pierced its right eye. Black bile was oozing down its cheek.

“Y-you . . . you shot it.”

“Don’t start with Gillie’s orders,” Helen cried, her voice edging into hysteria. “That thing was going to eat you!”

“They’re s-supposed to be veg . . . vegetarians,” I stammered, struggling to my knees and kneeling over the trow.

Helen made a choking sound. “Well, this one’s gone off his diet. He looks like he just finished a six course steak dinner at Delmonico’s. Why, his fur . . . whatsit . . .” Helen gestured at the shaggy fur tunic the trow wore. “. . . doesn’t fit him properly.”

The trow’s belly was indeed bulging out of his tunic and over his leather pants. It was disturbing to look at those clothes. This wasn’t an animal—it was a person of sorts, one of the fey that had wandered out of Faerie into the Blythe Wood. Perhaps it had gotten lost and been scared. Its intact eye looked dazed.

No, not dazed—
glazed
. As if covered with ice. I leaned over to look more closely and saw something move beneath the opaque surface of the intact eye.

“Helen,” I said, starting to get to my feet, “I think we’d better—”

Before I could finish the trow’s left eye split open, releasing a spray of black ooze. Helen screamed and covered her face, shielding herself from the geyser that spewed out of the trow’s eye—a geyser with feathers.

“Shadow crows!” I screamed, yanking Helen to her feet. “Run!”

I pushed Helen through a narrow opening in the brush into a clearing—a perfect circle surrounded by bushes covered in white flowers. I dimly had the thought that the woods had been leading us here all along, mocking our desire to stop time. There was no way to stop time. If you didn’t take the future in hand it took you and yanked you where it wanted you to go. Then Helen and I were falling down a long dark tunnel into the vast unknown.