13 Secrets (32 page)

“But that’s what we’re trained against!” Suki snapped. “We’re trained against being fooled!”

“We’re only human,” said Sparrow. He winced as Rowan’s face clouded. “I mean, well, half of us are. What I’m trying to say is that whether human or fey, none of us are perfect. Mistakes happen.”

“The question is, what happens now?” said Warwick. “How are the surviving members of the group going to stay alive?”

“We’ve got two options,” Rowan said. “Fight or flight. If we fight we could put an end to it… as well as pay back whoever did this to us. The problem with that is we’re not even sure who or what we’re fighting against. Or we can run. Take our chances, scatter and go quiet.”

She stared around the table, her green eyes watery. They settled on Warwick. “There’s a problem with that option too. Even if Eldritch isn’t the one who’s doing this, he still wants revenge against me. And after seeing him—seeing how mad he was—I wouldn’t put it past him to come for you too.” She bowed her
head. “I know it was my fault. I’m the one who had the key, and who threw it away, but… I blamed him for being there and doing nothing when Snatcher took James. There’s every chance he could feel the same way about you, for doing nothing when I left him in the cellar. So what I’m saying is that even if I leave and disappear, I’ll have brought danger to you. If I go, you could still be attacked. Whichever way you look at it—I’m being tracked, and sooner or later the trail will lead to here.”

“Then I say we fight,” said Warwick. “The Coven has strength in numbers—splitting up is only going to make it easier for you all to get killed, one by one. If the trail leads here, then let it.” He stood up and paced before the fireplace. “With a few well-placed clues we can bring the battle to us, and we can prepare for it. That’s the best chance we’ve got. If Tino and the others accept, and if we’re all together, we stand a chance. We’ll turn this place into a fortress—and be ready for them when they come.”

Rowan stood in the bathroom she shared with Tanya, a cold washcloth pressed to her face. On either side of her, the bedroom doors were locked. Her head pounded with a hot pressure, and lights flickered at the edges of her vision. She moved away from the sink and sat on the side of the bathtub, willing the headache to pass.

Aside from the gurgles and gargles of the drain-dweller in the plughole, the bathroom was quiet. She allowed the peacefulness to wash over her, fighting the sting of tears and the telltale ache in her throat.

She should never have come back; she knew that now. She should have gone ahead and done what she always did—what she did best—and disappeared.

Now it was too late.

A light knocking came from the other side of the
door to her room. She let the washcloth slide down her face a little, listening.

“Rowan?”

It was Rose.

“Are you all right? Can I come in?”

Rowan stayed quiet. From the bedroom she heard Sparrow’s voice.

“I think she just wants a few minutes alone, like.”

She heard Rose move away from the door. “Will you tell her…”

A pause as she hesitated.

“Tell her I’ll be outside, with the animals, if she wants to talk.”

Rowan waited for the click of the bedroom door. She got up and dropped the washcloth into the sink, then unlocked the bathroom door and went through it. The room was still bright with early evening sun. Sparrow knelt on her bed, looking out of the window. He turned as she sat next to him.

“So that’s her, is it?” he said, his voice soft. “Your real mother? You look like her.”

Rowan stared blankly at the bedroom door. “My real mother is dead.”

“I used to have a mum once,” he continued, ignoring the comment. He looked around. “And a room. There was mold in the top corner, by my bed—but I didn’t mind.”

“You’ve never told me why you ran away.”

Sparrow sat down. “You’ve never asked.”

“I’m asking now.”

Sparrow stared into his lap. “Actually, I had two mums. Both very different.”

“You mean, like a stepmother?” she asked.

“No. I mean like one person who turns into someone else completely when they get a drink inside them. I put up with it for years, then one day I just had enough.” He rubbed his thumb over his chipped tooth. “The day this happened.” He turned to her, a sad little smile on his lips.

“Not everyone gets a second chance, Red.”

“Don’t preach to me,” she muttered, turning away. To her surprise, Sparrow reached for her hand awkwardly, and held it in both of his. She looked down. His skin was brown next to hers and, already, grime was building under his fingernails again. Strangely, she didn’t mind.

“I’m not preaching.” He squeezed her hand. “I just don’t want you to throw this away.”

“It doesn’t matter now, anyway, does it?” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “Who knows what’ll happen. I bet they wish they’d never taken me in.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“So now you think I’m stupid?” she said huffily.

“No. I don’t think that.” He turned to face her, and she was suddenly aware of how close he was. “Not at all.” Slowly, very slowly, Sparrow leaned toward her and touched his lips to her cheek.

“What was that for?” she asked, stunned.

“In case I don’t get a second chance.” He leaned back and let go of her hand, not meeting her eyes.
“Suki and Warwick should have found Tino and the others by now.”

“Don’t change the subject—”

The room shook as a door slammed nearby. Rowan got up.

“Was that Tanya’s door?” she wondered aloud.

“Tanya!” Florence’s voice sounded from the hallway. “Don’t walk away from me when I’m speaking to you!”

Rowan went to the door and opened it a crack. Through the gap she saw Florence hurrying up the stairs and walking toward her. She stopped outside the door next to Rowan’s and rapped quickly.

“Leave me alone!” Tanya’s voice was a muffled yell. Within the room next door, something else slammed. “I’m packing,
remember
?”

“Tanya.” Florence rattled the handle. “I’m not having this conversation through a locked door. Open it, please.”

“I don’t
want
this conversation, in case you hadn’t noticed. I think you’ve already said it all!”

“Unlock the door, or I will.”

Rowan stepped out into the hall. Florence fumbled with a bunch of keys at her side, her thin lips pressed into a line.

“What’s happened?” Rowan asked. “Why is Tanya packing?”

Florence looked up, glancing first at Rowan, then at Sparrow, who had come to the door as well. She
opened her mouth to say something, but then Tanya’s door flew open.

“I’m packing because my grandmother is making me.” She stood there, wild-eyed, her empty suitcase clutched in one hand. “She’s sending me back home to London.”

“Because it’s not safe for you here!” Florence’s eyes were pleading. “What kind of grandmother would I be to let you stay in a house that’s likely to be attacked?”

Tanya let the suitcase slip through her fingers to the floor. “How am I supposed to go home and act like nothing is happening? How can I go home, wondering what’s going to happen to you all? Knowing that maybe I could have helped somehow?”

“The best thing you can do to help is to go somewhere safe, away from here,” said Florence. “Where I won’t have to worry about you.”

Tanya shook her head. “Almost everyone I love and care about is in this house.”

“But your parents aren’t,” said Florence. “And they love and care about you.”

“I know, and I love them too, but…” Tanya’s shoulders sagged. “It’s not the same. I can’t even talk to them about all this.”

“It’s for the best,” Florence said quietly.

“What about Fabian?” Tanya asked.

“Fabian will have to stay here,” said Florence. “If Eldritch wants revenge against Warwick, he could
target Fabian. Warwick won’t let Fabian out of his sight.”

“And you?” said Tanya. “And Rose, and Nell?”

“Nell is leaving. She’s packing up her things right now. Given all that’s happened to her since she’s been here, I’d imagine she’s relieved to go. Rose is staying.”

“Because of Rowan.”

“Yes. And as for me, well. This is my house, and I’m not leaving it.”

Tanya picked the suitcase up from the floor. “I suppose that settles it, then,” she said stiffly.

“Yes,” Florence replied. “I suppose it does.”

Tanya stood in the doorway as Florence retreated downstairs.

“When are you leaving?” Rowan asked, once they were alone.

“Tomorrow, on the first train.” Tanya made a face. “I tried to persuade her to let me stay until the afternoon, but Warwick says it’s too risky. There are only two trains a day, and if the second one is canceled…”

“Can’t your mum pick you up?”

Tanya shook her head. “She’s in Scotland on some sort of work conference. She won’t be back until tomorrow evening. And my dad’s on vacation, so I can’t go to his house.” She leaned her head on the doorframe. “Everything’s a mess—I can’t even think of a reason to give for going back early. I was supposed to be staying the whole summer.” She
stepped back into her room. “I’d better finish packing.” She closed the door, leaving Rowan and Sparrow alone in the hall.

Dinner was late that night, a subdued meal that no one seemed to enjoy. Rowan was surprised to find that she missed Nell and the General, for the house was much quieter since they had left a couple of hours earlier. Warwick returned alone just as the plates were being cleared.

“Did you speak to Tino and the others?” Sparrow asked, rising from his seat.

Warwick walked past the plate of cooling food Florence had set on the table, hung his coat on the back door, and then stood at the kitchen window, staring out.

“I spoke to them.”

“And?” said Rowan.

“They’re coming.” Moving to the back door again, he took his iron knife out of his coat and slid it into his belt. “I suggest you all get some sleep. Tomorrow we’ve got our work cut out.”

The first of the caravans arrived in the night. Tanya counted three of them through the garden gate the next morning, a medley of color and pattern dotted a short distance from the walls of the manor, between the house and the woods.