“Tie him up?” Colton gave a hollow chuckle. “You’re just like your granny, you know that?”
“Betty’s right,” said Fliss, finally recovering her wits. “Your chances are better if we can delay the warders’ realizing you’re gone.”
“And if they notice Jarrod’s missing, at least they’ll be searching for him and not you.”
“Then let’s hurry. We don’t know how long we’ve got before he comes around,” said Colton. He stepped around the unconscious Jarrod, watching him as if he were a coiled snake ready to bite.
“We should lift him onto the bed, like he’s sleeping,” said Betty. Her knees were shaking. There was nothing she wanted to do less than approach the meaty figure, let alone touch it. However, the idea of him grabbing any of them the way he’d grabbed Charlie was driving her forward, forcing her to act. They’d caught Jarrod off-guard once. She doubted they’d get the same chance twice.
“After he’s tied up,” Colton replied.
Someone in another cell along the corridor coughed; then a voice grumbled: “Who’s whispering to themselves? Pack it in!”
Someone else laughed, low and mean. “Maybe it’s five-one-three, crying in his sleep again.”
Crying in his sleep? Betty glanced at Colton, but he avoided her eyes, a muscle in his jaw twitching. When she’d first met him, cocky and uncooperative in the visiting room, she couldn’t have imagined him crying into his pillow. Seeing him here, afraid, changed things. For the first time, she cared that Colton was getting out. She darted over to the bed, grabbing the sheets. She handed the corner of one to Colton and another to Fliss.
“Quickly, tear these into strips.” She took a corner and began to pull at the worn edges. With Fliss tugging one side of the sheet and Betty gripping the other, they tore a long strip as thick as Jarrod’s arm, wincing as the fabric cut into their palms.
Colton tore two more, grimacing. “We need to bind his hands, knees, and ankles as well as gagging him,” he said. He worked quickly, his eyes never leaving Jarrod. Next to the older, powerfully built man, he looked very young.
Betty raised an eyebrow. “That’s . . . thorough.”
“Hey, this was your bright idea,” Colton snapped. He kneeled at Jarrod’s side, his nostrils flaring with heavy breaths. He touched Jarrod’s chest softly, then prodded harder when there was no response.
“Is he really dangerous?” Charlie asked, backing away a little.
Colton nodded grimly.
Betty looked up. Dare she ask exactly what Jarrod was capable of? No, she decided. There was no point in scaring them all further, although her imagination was unhelpfully making terrible suggestions—and not just about the prisoner who was unconscious. “More dangerous than you?”
Colton glared at her. “Yes.”
Suddenly Charlie swooped on something glinting on the stone floor.
“My tooth!”
“You knock a tooth out when you landed?” Colton asked, surprisingly concerned.
Charlie shook her head, pocketing it. “No, I just carry it with me. It must’ve fallen out of my pocket when I landed. I call it Peg.”
“Right.” Colton looked slightly mystified, then shook himself. “Let’s do his legs first.” He took a strip of the sheet and wound it around Jarrod’s ankles before tying a firm knot at the back.
“Is that too tight?” Fliss asked.
“Nope. He’ll be furious about this.” Colton gave a mirthless chuckle. “You don’t want to see him mad. You really don’t.”
“Hopefully we won’t have to,” said Betty, but the sheen of perspiration on Colton’s forehead was making her twitchy. How had he coped in here all this time? Already, she felt as though the tiny space were closing in, becoming airless. She couldn’t wait to get out. “Roll him onto his front. It’s best his hands are tied behind him.”
In the corridor, the muttering had become a drone of voices that Betty had been able to tune out until now. But it was getting louder, more insistent. The prisoners knew there was something going on. Doors began to rattle.
“Hurry,” said Colton. “Their noise will bring the warders!”
They crouched beside the unmoving Jarrod, grabbing handfuls of clothing. They heaved, grunting with the effort.
“It’s like trying to shift a fallen tree,” Fliss gasped. Eventually they maneuvered him onto his side.
“Now set him down gently on his front,” Colton warned. They began to turn him, but before Betty knew it, Jarrod’s weight pulled them forward and he landed heavily, like a slab of meat.
Colton rolled his eyes. “If that’s your idea of gentle, I’d hate to see rough.”
Fliss gagged, covering her nose as a smell of stale sweat wafted up from Jarrod.
Colton smirked. “That’s prison for you, princess. It ain’t pretty.”
Fliss glared at him. “I can see that for myself.” To Betty’s surprise, she grabbed Jarrod’s hands and held them together as Colton twisted another piece of the sheet tightly around Jarrod’s wrists.
All three of them jumped as his thick, sausagelike fingers twitched, then curled. Colton reared back, dropping the sheet. The hand slowly moved, forming a fist, before relaxing and becoming limp again.
Colton crawled forward warily. “We don’t have much time. He’ll come around soon.”
“Want me to bash him over the head?” Charlie asked. She looked around, searching for a suitable weapon.
“No!” Fliss said, shocked.
Charlie shrugged, looking suspiciously like she was enjoying the drama. Betty, on the other hand, was not. She was starting to wonder whether adventures agreed with her at all. She felt neither bold nor brave.
Colton looped the sheet around Jarrod’s wrists again, knotting it tight. Betty slid a length of sheet just above Jarrod’s knees.
He let out a low moan.
“Forget his knees,” Colton said shakily. “Let’s get him on the bed before he wakes.”
Betty held up the final rag. “Mustn’t forget the most important one.” She jammed it between Jarrod’s teeth and tied it behind his head.
With that, the three of them heaved Jarrod onto his back again, then got into position around him.
“Lift!” Colton said through gritted teeth.
The murmuring of the other prisoners swelled around them, becoming a low chant. “Col-ton . . . Col-ton . . . Colton . . .”
“Lift!” Colton repeated, and somehow, with the chanting in their ears, their rising panic lent them strength, and they threw Jarrod on the narrow bed. His eyes flew open as he landed. Fliss picked up the rest of the sheet from the floor and tossed it over him. He writhed underneath it, but the bindings held firm.
The clang of a door echoed through the corridors. The warders were coming.
Colton turned to Betty, wide-eyed. “Now can we go?”
“Gladly,” Betty answered, trying to organize her thoughts over the din of prisoners’ voices. The last thing she wanted was Colton and Charlie—and the bag—getting separated from her and Fliss. “Colton, you hold on to Fliss. Then I’ll link arms with Fliss, and Charlie can go on the end, so she has an arm free to work the bag.”
“You’re letting the kid use the bag?” Colton asked in astonishment.
“It has to be her.”
“So that’s why you don’t want me holding on to Charlie,” said Colton slowly. “In case I let go of Fliss.”
“Right,” Betty answered bluntly. “You haven’t earned our trust yet. Maybe that’s about to change, but for now I’ll stick with being careful.” Privately, she wondered whether they should have insisted Colton be tied up, too, but they hadn’t the time now that the warders were coming. And though she was unsure of Colton, she didn’t feel the same threat from him that she did oozing from Jarrod. She hoped she wasn’t wrong.
The other prisoners’ voices were belting out Colton’s name now, as loud as they could and so fast there was barely a breath between the words. “Colton! Colton! Colton!” Then it broke, giving way to loud jeers. Sharp, authoritative voices rang out across the prisoners’ burble.
“The warders,” Colton whispered. “They’re here!”
“Betty?” Charlie’s voice was panicked.
“Get in line!” Betty instructed.
“But, Betty, I’ve lost Hoppit!”
“Then he’ll have to stay lost,” said Betty in exasperation, bundling Charlie into place. Her little sister’s fidgeting made sense now. “I can’t believe you brought that rat with you. I told you to get rid of it!”
“I didn’t mean to! He was in my pocket,” Charlie protested. “He can’t sleep otherwise!”
They couldn’t dash their escape for a silly rat! “Everyone ready?” Betty said abruptly. “Charlie, take us to Lament.”
Charlie’s bottom lip wobbled. “Not without Hoppit. We can’t leave him in this awful place!”
“I’m sure he’ll be right at home,” said Colton drily.
“Quickly, Charlie,” Fliss urged. “The bag!”
Charlie’s lip stopped quivering and began to jut obstinately. “I said no! We have to look for him!” She began to bend down, but Betty took her arm firmly.
“No, Charlie. We leave, now! We can’t let the warders find us!”
“Look!” Fliss gasped, nodding to the bed.
There on the sheet covering Jarrod, a small dark shape was scuttling along, sniffing interestedly at the sweaty bulk underneath.
“Hoppit!” Charlie exclaimed. She tried to squirm away, but Betty held her fast. Something was happening: Jarrod shifted under the sheet, groaning like an angry bull. Through the cell-door bars came the glow of an approaching lantern.
“We have to go!” Betty whispered desperately.
“No!” Charlie thrashed, but there was no way Betty was letting her near Jarrod, who was now grunting and writhing.
“For crow’s sake!” Colton broke away from Fliss and lunged for the rat, just as the creature vanished into a dip in the sheet between Jarrod’s knees.
“Got it!” He grimaced in disgust—but with those words, Jarrod’s thighs snapped shut, trapping Colton’s hand.
Colton’s eyes widened with shock as he tried to pull himself free, but he was no match for Jarrod. He was stuck like a fox in a trap.
Footsteps scuffed the stone corridor, closer still, lamplight glowing brighter.
Colton wrenched at his hand again, but Betty knew from his expression there was no way Jarrod was letting go—at least, not in time.
“Grab him!” she yelled to Fliss. Then to Charlie, “GO! For crow’s sake, go!”
And as Fliss lunged for Colton, Charlie plunged her hand into the traveling bag. “Lament!”
They landed on soft, damp grass that smelled of sea salt and earth. Betty’s legs crumpled beneath her, and her arms were yanked in both directions, forcing her to release Fliss and Charlie. She sank to her knees, feeling wetness seep through to her skin. Her relief at escaping was crushed by dread. The warders would know now that Colton was gone. They should have just left immediately; a bellowing Jarrod signaling the escape from the confines of a cell was much better than a broken-out Jarrod—even if he was tied up. Betty dragged herself up, her eyes everywhere, anxious for her sisters. A small copse of trees surrounded them.
Charlie had landed neatly as a cat, and was staring around, wide-eyed, and her hair more like a bramble-bush than ever. Betty’s eyes rested on Jarrod, who was lying face-down, squirming. Angry grunts came from behind the gag as he struggled against his constraints. Fear prickled her skin like icy raindrops. They had tied him tightly enough . . . hadn’t they?
A short distance away, Fliss had landed on top of Colton in a tangled heap.
“And there I was thinking you didn’t like me,” said Colton.
“You wish,” Fliss growled, but the color in her cheeks deepened. She rolled off him, flicking her hair in his face.
Colton grunted as he clambered to his feet. He cast a wary glance at Jarrod, then stared up at the star-sprinkled sky, his eyes dancing in the moonlight. Faint squeaks came from his outstretched hand, but Colton was too entranced with his new freedom to notice he was still holding Charlie’s squirming rat.
“It’s so big,” he murmured at last. “So vast . . . I’d forgotten how huge the world is outside of the prison walls.”
“Better make sure you don’t end up back on the wrong side of them, then,” Betty retorted. Her eyes darted across the wide, flat expanse of Lament. All she could see of mainland Crowstone were gossamer threads of light in the distance. She had only been to Lament twice before, to lay flowers and feathers on her grandfather’s and mother’s graves. It was the farthest she had ever been from home. If the escape had gone smoothly, Betty would have been thrilled by this, but now the thought of home appealed more than she wanted to admit. The only excitement she felt was for what Colton was about to reveal.
A blast of freezing wind blew in her face. She remembered now how open and flat the land on Lament was, how little shelter there was. It was so empty and mournful here. When they were younger, Fliss had wanted to continue bringing flowers to Mother’s grave, but Granny had discouraged them. “Better to remember her as she was, in here,” she’d said, tapping her head, “rather than remind yourselves of where she is now.”
“Fliss?” Charlie whined, pressing into her. “I know this is an adventure, but does it have to be so c-cold?”
Fliss pulled her younger sister closer, though she was shivering herself.
Betty stepped in front of them. “We won’t be out here much longer, Charlie,” she said, looking at Colton pointedly. “Well? We got you out. Now it’s your turn. Tell us how to break the curse.”
Colton turned to look at her and his expression changed, becoming uncomfortable. He lowered his gaze, shifting from one foot to the other. Already, Betty knew with a sinking feeling that she was not going to like whatever she was about to hear.
“Soon. I still need your help.”
Betty’s eyes narrowed to slits the size of rice grains. Why was he stalling, after all they’d just been through? She stalked over to him, temper flaring. “You said once we got you out of the prison you could do the rest. That was the deal!”
“There’s a boat hidden in one of the caves,” Colton said. He looked up at the glittering stars, then across the marshes to the lights on the mainland. “I thought I’d be able to get my bearings, but . . .”
He’s struggling with the directions, Betty thought. It wasn’t surprising. She had heard that long spells in small places could do strange things to the mind. Even Betty, who’d spent hours studying all her maps, was finding it more difficult to navigate than expected, now that she was here. If she hadn’t been so annoyed, she might have felt a pang of pity for him. But the thought of the curse pushed her sympathy aside as her earlier doubts niggled. How much did Colton really know?
“Can you tell us how to break this curse or not?” Fliss asked stonily, evidently thinking the same. “Or are you just stringing us along?”
Colton met her eyes for a second, then broke away. “Get me to the caves,” he muttered. “Then I’ll tell you everything I know.”
“You were supposed to tell us now,” Betty said. “You’re breaking your word!”
“Why should we do anything else for you?” Fliss added.
“Because if we don’t, we’ll have wasted our time,” Betty said in a hard voice. It was an unbearable thought, to have risked so much for nothing. If Colton didn’t give them the answers they needed, it was back to groveling to Fingerty . . . which held no guarantees, either.
Charlie marched up to Colton, glaring with as much disdain as she could muster. She held out her hand. “My rat,” she said icily.
“Oh.” Colton was shamefaced as he handed back the wriggling brown creature. “Here. I wasn’t planning on keeping it.”
“Huh!” said Charlie, pocketing Hoppit. “So you ain’t a thief, then. Just a liar.” She turned on her heel and rejoined her sisters.
“We’ll get you to the caves,” said Betty. “Then you tell us. No more stalling.”
“What do we do about Jarrod, though?” Fliss asked, jerking her head over her shoulder. “Leave him there for the warders to find?”
Betty glanced back at the copse of trees where they had landed. She stiffened, scouring the ground.
“We might not have to worry about that,” she whispered. A short way in front of them, squelched into the mud, was a torn piece of rag, its loose end fluttering as if waving cheerily.
Jarrod was gone.