13 Secrets (38 page)

Another window smashed from further away.

“To the safe room, now!” Warwick yelled.

Rowan slung her backpack over her shoulder. “I’ve got to go.”

“Wait.” Tanya pushed the scissors at her. “If you’re going outside, take these.”

“No. You keep them.”

“But it’s dangerous out there—”

“It’s dangerous in here too.” She pulled Tanya
out of her room and gave her a gentle push. “Stay safe.”

The grandfather clock began to chime as she hurtled down the stairs. Crooks passed her on the way up, a knife clenched in his hand.

“Come with me,” he shouted. “You’re meant to be in the safe room.”

“Be there in a minute,” she called, not looking back. “There’s just something I need to do….”

Shouts came from the kitchen. Warwick and the Coven members were taking up their positions, calling instructions to one another. Her heart thumping, she jammed the key into the library door and unlocked it, and then closed it, leaving the key for Tanya.

She kept glancing at the unlocked door as she waited for the tunnel entrance to open. It seemed to be moving in slow motion.

“Come on, come
on
,” she told it desperately.

Finally it was open wide enough for her to slide through into the stone passageway. Sparrow turned his face away from the sudden brightness of the library.

“I’ve got a flashlight.” She fumbled in the backpack and pulled it out.

“Here,” said Sparrow. “I’ll take it.”

She peered around the edge of the wall partition. “Should we wait until it closes again?”

“What for?”

“To make sure we’re not being followed.”

He shook his head and clicked on the flashlight.
“Let’s just get going. It’ll be closed within a minute anyway.”

“Wait.” She darted back into the library and plucked the book of matches from the pile of Sparrow’s belongings, still on the carpet from before. Kneeling in the cramped space, she wedged the matches discreetly into the bottom of the door jamb. “In case we need to come back again—it should stop the catch from closing completely, but won’t be obvious from inside the library.”

Sparrow started down the narrow staircase, the flashlight flickering ahead. Rowan went after him, placing her feet cautiously. The steps were slightly slippery, damp with a film of moisture and green mold.

“I’d forgotten how bad it stinks down here,” she said. Her voice bounced off the walls. The temperature plummeted as they went deeper underground, and she shivered.

“Put on the fox-skin if you’re cold.”

“No.” She slid a little as they reached the bottom of the stairwell. “My senses are magnified when I wear it—the smell will be even more unbearable than it is now.”

Sparrow played the flashlight over the stone walls. Like the floor, they were largely covered in green mold. Four tunnels lay ahead, each twisting away from the next.

She pointed. “There’s the string leading out.”

He headed toward the first tunnel swiftly.

“Slow down,” she said, holding on to his sleeve.
“I can’t see too well with the flashlight in front of you.”

“Sorry.” He slowed a fraction as they neared the tunnel, allowing her to catch up. “I just want to get out of here. I can’t stand confined spaces like this.”

She pointed at the pebble to which the string was attached.

“Do you think we should take that with us?”

“What for?”

“In case someone follows.”

“But then how will we get back if we need to?”

“Good point.” As they neared the center of the cavern, a waft of air washed over her, and with it, a sudden flash of fear. She shook herself and carried on, but Sparrow paused, watching her.

“What’s the matter?”

“I just… I don’t know.”

“Come on,” said Sparrow. “Let’s keep moving.”

They continued on through the tunnel, the flashlight trained on the damp, dirty trail of string. On and on it led them, through the dank, winding darkness. The air became crisper and cleaner when they came into a little open cavern, passing the iron bedstead and tiny table and chair where Rowan had been staying with the changeling when Tanya had first discovered her. From there the tunnel narrowed and grew musty once more, pressing in on them.

“Not too far now, surely?” Sparrow asked.

“I don’t think so. I’m not sure how long we’ve been down here—it feels like hours.”

Onward they trawled, twisting through the underground labyrinth.

“I can see steps,” said Sparrow a while later. “They’re leading up.”

“That’s it,” Rowan breathed in relief. “That’s the way out, through the fake grave.”

They climbed the steps, careful not to lose their footing, and paused beneath the stone slab.

“I’ll need you to help me shift it,” Sparrow said, positioning himself at the top end of the steps. He put the flashlight on the ground with its beam pointing up and placed his left hand above his head against the slab. His other hand was deep in his pocket.

“What’s the matter with your hand?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“You hurt it, didn’t you?” she guessed. “When Tino pushed you.”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say?”

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

She steadied herself and put her hands in place. “On the count of three, lift and slide to the right. Ready? One, two, three!”

The slab slid across with a grating noise of stone on stone that set Rowan’s teeth on edge. Afternoon light and fresh air carrying the scent of grass and the woods rushed into the tunnel. “Just a bit more….” she panted. “There.” She clambered up a few more steps and then hauled herself out into the graveyard, reaching down to grab Sparrow’s hand. He rolled
out onto the grass, a film of sweat glistening on his face. His skin looked waxy and pale. He switched off the flashlight and pocketed it, then grabbed her hand.

“Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“Let’s move across to the woods—we can see the house better from there.”

Rowan glanced toward the manor. It looked like a dollhouse in the distance. “We can see it from here.”

“But we’re on open land,” said Sparrow. “We’d be better concealed in the woods—the garvern might catch a glimpse of us.”

She allowed him to pull her onward and out of the churchyard, taking quick, fearful glances over her shoulder. Gray clouds roiled above, blotting out the sun. From where they were, she could not make out any figures or movement from the house. They were too far away now.

“Slow down,” she gasped, stumbling as he tugged her toward the brook, but he did not seem to hear. They reached the stepping stones. Water rushed past her feet as she navigated the way across, and she cast another wary look behind her, half expecting to see a swooping garvern heading for them—

And suddenly she stopped, stock-still, balancing on one of the stones halfway across. The standstill jerked Sparrow to a halt, and he spun round to face her.

“Why are you stopping? Keep going, quickly.”

“How did you know about the garvern?” she asked, her voice tight.

“What? You told me. Now come on—”

“No, I didn’t.” She stared at him, her heart racing. “I said the house was being
watched
. I never mentioned the word ‘garvern.’ ”

The grip on her hand tightened and began to pull, harder.

“Ouch! You’re hurting me!
Sparrow!
”

His fingers had turned white from grasping her so hard.

It was then that she caught sight of his fingernails, pale and clean. She surged back in shock, sliding off the stepping stone—but still he held on. Freezing water soaked her ankles. Then she was down on her knees, spiteful pebbles on the riverbed scraping her as she was dragged through the water and onto the other side of the bank.

A dry sob forced its way up her throat as she thrashed and flailed through mud and grass, her arm screaming with the brunt of her weight. By the time she had twisted herself around she already knew what—or rather,
who
—she was going to see.

Eldritch grinned back at her with a chipped front tooth. Even as she watched, it grew, becoming whole again.

Rowan began to scream.

Tanya banged on Fabian’s door, ignoring Crooks’s calls to head for the safe room.

“Fabian? It’s me. Open up.”

She heard raised voices on the floor below and the sounds of people scattering, changing position. Oberon whined at her side. She thumped the door again. “Fabian, I know you don’t want to speak to any of us at the moment, but you have to. Open the door—I’ve got eye drops. You’ll need them.”

The door opened a crack and Fabian glared out.

“I’ve already got some,” he said coldly. “Swiped them off the kitchen table earlier.” He reached out and took the bottle out of her hands. “Still, won’t hurt to have extra.” He pushed the bottle into an inside pocket of his jacket and came out onto the
landing. Oberon stuck his nose into Fabian’s hand, but found his greeting ignored.

“Why have you got your jacket on?” she asked. She reached for his arm but he shrugged away from her.

“I’m not staying here, waiting to be attacked.”

“Then where are you going?”

“I’m leaving. I’m going to find out who killed my mother, and I’m going to get them.”

He ran for the stairs, but Tanya would not be shaken off. She followed him, her words jolting with each step down. The grandfather clock chimed in her ears. “If you go out there,
you’ll
be the one getting killed. The house is surrounded. Just calm down and speak to Warwick—”

“Warwick’s had eight years to talk to me, to tell me the truth,” Fabian spat. “He chose not to.”

“What are you going to do?” Tanya hissed. “You’re crazy if you think anyone will just let you walk out of the house—”

“They won’t see me. I’ll use the tunnel. It comes out far away enough to give me a head start.”

Florence’s voice drew them to a halt as they reached the middle of the stairs, and Tanya’s knees buckled as Oberon collided with her legs.

“Tanya! And Fabian—what are you two
doing
? Get up here this instant! And where’s Rowan?”

“We’re just going to get her and bring her upstairs,” Tanya babbled, turning. Her grandmother was leaning over the banister. “We’re coming straight back.”

“Well, hurry!” Florence flinched as another window shattered. She spun around furiously as a garvern reached through an unprotected window, its claws shredding the curtains. Tanya started back up the stairs, afraid for her grandmother, but before she could take two steps Florence had grabbed a nearby water spray on the sill and fired it into the garvern’s snarling face. “This is my house!” she shrieked, her finger working the nozzle with every word. “And you have overstayed your welcome!”

The garvern screamed, its skin bubbling and blistering as the salt water came into contact with it, but it still managed to cling on, hissing in fury. Footsteps charged across the landing. It was Rose, her hair streaming behind her like a red flag and a broom in her hands. She whacked the bristle end into the creature’s face, and it toppled with a scream away from the window.

Fabian edged away from the stairs and went in the direction of the library. Tanya ran after him, no longer concerned for her grandmother. It was clear Florence could look after herself.

The key was in the door, as Rowan had left it. Fabian got there first, turning the doorknob and pushing his way into the library.

“Fabian, just hang on a minute,” she began. She retrieved the key and pushed the library door, but before it was quite closed, the sounds of a skirmish came from the hallway.

Quickly she repositioned herself at the door
opening, peering through the crack. Another garvern had shattered a window, downstairs this time, although a layer of salt on the ledge stopped it from entering. A vase balanced on the sill had smashed on the tiled floor below it. As she watched, Victor came racing from the direction of the kitchen, knives drawn, yelling for backup.