Stunned, Betty lifted her hands in front of her face. She could see them, but the mirror showed nothing . . . and it was plain no one else could see her, either. Just to be certain, she made a rude gesture at Granny . . . but her grandmother continued to stare straight through her.
A gleeful thrill bubbled inside her. She grabbed a tea towel from the back of a chair and flapped it. In the mirror she saw it reflected, flying through the air as if it had a will of its own. “Woooooooooooo!” she said in a deep voice.
“Oooh!” said Charlie, evidently thrilled.
Fliss shuddered. “Betty, stop that! It’s creepy!”
“Oh, don’t be a spoilsport,” said Betty. “It’s about time there was some fun around here!”
“It’s not a laughing matter,” Granny said. “These aren’t toys to play with.”
The tea towel slipped through Betty’s fingers and landed on the floor. “Then what’s the point of them?”
“They’re for protection. To help us out in a sticky spot.”
“Not likely to get used much, then,” Betty said sulkily. “The only sticky spots around here are when Fliss hasn’t washed the dishes properly.”
“Hey!” said Fliss indignantly.
“Or when Oi gets shut in all night,” added Charlie.
“How do I make myself visible again?” Betty asked. “Just take the hair out of the doll?”
“Not quite,” said Granny. “You twist the top half full circle counterclockwise, then pull the halves apart and remove the hair.”
Betty did so, checking her reflection. Sure enough, it returned.
“Now,” said Granny. “You can make other people vanish, too. You do exactly the same thing, only this time, you use the third doll. Remember that. The second doll is for you, and only you.”
“Me!” Charlie begged. “Make me disappear!” She reached into her pocket and dug out something tiny and white, flinging it across the table. “Here, use Peg.”
“Meddling magpies!” Fliss exclaimed. “Are you still carrying that tooth around? And since when does it have a name?”
Charlie flashed her gappy grin proudly. Since losing her first tooth and waking to find a bright copper coin under her pillow the next morning, she had decided to carry her second offering in her pocket at all times in the hopes of catching the tooth fairy. It had been three weeks now, and neither Granny nor Fliss had managed to extract it from her pocket without raising suspicion. Charlie was becoming frustrated with the tooth fairy’s apparent lack of effort, and had even taken to leaving disgruntled notes to illustrate her feelings. Betty picked up the tooth and placed it in the third doll, twisting it closed before nesting it in the outer dolls. Instantly, Charlie vanished from sight.
“Am I invisible yet? Am I?” Charlie demanded.
“Well and truly.” Betty reached out, expecting to find air, but her fingers came into contact with warm flesh.
“Ah, yes,” said Granny. “While you can’t be seen, you can be felt.”
Betty removed the tooth, much to Charlie’s disappointment, and hid the dolls away inside each other.
Charlie pouted jealously. “Why does Betty get the dolls? She’s the one who wants to go on adventures! The bag would be better for her!”
“The bag’s just as good, Charlie,” Betty pointed out. “Better than the dolls, actually.” The bag would have been perfect for her, she realized wistfully. How easily it could whisk her away, to anywhere she chose . . . and back again before Granny could stop her. The dolls could be just as useful for sneaking off unseen, though. The thought was as guilty as it was delicious. She still had the feeling that Granny was hoping the magical gifts would buy their obedience, and here Betty was dreaming up ways to be anything but obedient.
“Don’t care,” Charlie went on sulkily. “I want them ’cause they’re like us.” She pointed to the largest doll. “See? That one is Granny, looking after the three smaller ones.”
“Yes,” said Fliss, smiling faintly. “I suppose they are like us.”
“The dolls go to Betty,” said Granny. “Fliss has already chosen the mirror and, until you’re old enough, Charlie, the bag will stay with me. Each item goes to a Widdershins girl on her sixteenth birthday or, like myself and your mother, on their wedding day.” She ran a finger around the rim of her glass. “Once an item is yours or meant for you, it’s the only one you’ll be able to use.”
Charlie looked up, suddenly less huffy. “Does that mean the bag would work for me . . . now?”
All three girls looked at Granny expectantly, and Betty got the impression from the way Granny’s mouth was puckering that she didn’t want to answer the question.
“Yes,” Granny said at last. “It would. But that doesn’t mean you can try. Not until you’re sixteen!”
“Sixteen?” Charlie spluttered. “That’s not fair! Betty’s only thirteen and she’s getting the dolls now!”
Granny closed her eyes, looking pained. “All right, thirteen. You can have it then.”
“Yes!” said Charlie. She counted on her fingers, her expression growing glum. “That’s still an awful long time.”
“Not as long as it could have been. Don’t push your luck.”
“So all this time,” said Betty, who had been thinking during Charlie’s little bout of bartering, “only the bag has had an owner? What about the mirror and the dolls? How long have they been waiting for another Widdershins girl?”
“A while.” Granny struck a match and relit her pipe. “I never had any daughters, only your father, as you know. But he had a cousin, Clarissa. The mirror went to her. She died shortly after your parents were married, before any of you were born.” She gestured to the old wooden box, her eyes dark and distant. “And so the mirror went back in there to wait for its next owner.”
“What about Mother?” Betty asked. “You said she would have gotten one of these on her wedding day?”
Granny nodded. “The dolls. Though as far as I know, she never used them.”
“Why not?” asked Fliss.
“She never had reason to,” Granny replied. “She was warned, same as all the women before her, not to use them flippantly. And she didn’t like them—not knowing where they came from or how we got them.”
“No one knows?” Betty asked faintly.
A haunted look passed across Granny’s face. Once again, Betty got the feeling the old woman wasn’t being entirely truthful. “If they do, they’ve chosen not to say,” Granny said.
The kitchen went quiet, so quiet that the ticking of the old jackdaw clock on the wall could be heard. Betty eyed the dolls uneasily. There was something spooky about enchanted family objects that no one had answers for being passed down. But the lure of them was almost too much to resist.
“All this magic,” Betty said wistfully, “and you’re telling us we shouldn’t use it?”
“I’m telling you,” said Granny, “that it’s meant for times of need, not to amuse yourselves with parlor tricks.”
“Why would we need it?” Betty asked.
“You never know,” Granny mumbled, suppressing a hiccup. “There might come a time when you girls need to hide or escape quickly. Just like I did one night, before you three lived here. There was a break-in after hours, when I was alone. I used the bag to get out safely with the night’s takings and raise the alarm. Without it, I’d never have escaped.” She reached for a nearby glass, then realized it was empty and discarded it crossly. “I’m not saying you will need them. But you must never use these objects without care, especially in a place like Crowstone. Most people here are connected to the people in that prison. Dangerous people, who’d go to any lengths to get their hands on these things. Imagine if they knew of a bag that could transport them outside the prison walls . . . or a set of magical dolls that could sneak them past the warders unseen. So you listen to me, and you listen good: Your magic must only be used when it’s truly required. Anything otherwise is a risk.”
“But you did,” Betty pointed out. “You used your traveling bag to find us tonight, to land right on the boat, when you could have waited for the next one.”
“That’s the point—it couldn’t wait. I’d never have found you in time.”
“In time for what?” Betty asked. “To stop our fun before it even began?” She waited for a remark about being lippy, but it never came. Dread uncurled in her stomach. All the talk of the dolls and magic had distracted her from her biggest question. “None of this answers what you promised to tell us earlier . . . about why we can’t leave Crowstone.”
Granny sighed. “I thought I’d get the nice part out of the way first.” She took a deep drag on her pipe, as though she were filling herself with courage. “The truth is, we’re cursed . . . all of us. No Widdershins girl has ever been able to leave Crowstone. If we do, we’ll die by the next sunset.”