Harper wasn’t as scared, now that they had a plan. He followed Penny quietly up the stairs, holding his oranges in his hoodie.
They made it up the grand staircase without incident. Clocks ticked and chimed along the gallery as they paused on the landing. Penny put a hand on his arm and looked round. Harper found himself wondering: who was winding all those clocks? He’d never seen his mum or dad do it.
Penny signalled for him to wait behind, but he shook his head. No way. Wherever she went, he went. She shrugged, and he followed her down the corridor towards their parents’ bedroom.
Penny paused outside the door and peeked in. There was their mum’s bag, open on the floor by the bed. Harper felt a stab of fear. Mum hadn’t got her bag.
His sister picked something up from the side table: the vial of holy water from Nigel. Harper hadn’t thought much of the holy water at the time, but now that he had seen the lady ghost, and the way his dad was acting, he was all for it.
Penny pocketed the vial, and they went silently back out to the corridor and across the gallery, where Harper positioned his oranges on the landing at the top of the staircase. Then he and Penny proceeded towards their bedrooms.
At the end of that corridor was the bare wooden stair that led up to the attic.
Penny put out her hand again and stopped him at the bottom.
She leaned close to his ear and whispered.
“Remember, wait ’til I give the signal.”
Harper nodded.
“And if I do this,” Penny held a thumb down. “Run. Got it? Don’t look back, don’t wait for me, just run.”
Harper nodded again. Although he would wait for Penny. He wasn’t going anywhere without his sister.
“Ready?” Penny mouthed the word.
Harper nodded a third time.
They crept up the old wood stairs, keeping to the outer edges to avoid creaking.
As they got closer to the top, Penny put an arm back and signalled for him to crouch lower. They both hunkered against the stairs, stifling their breathing as Penny raised her eyes up to floor level. She stayed that way for a moment, then motioned for him to join her.
The attic door was open, so they could see nearly the entire space, full of easels and boards and old junk. Penny motioned for Harper to follow as she crept towards a wooden screen near the centre of the room. From behind the screen they could see the door to the secret room their mum had found—where their dad stood in the doorway.
A flickering light came from inside the room, outlining the black figure of their father. He shifted position, and Harper could see there was some kind of weird circle design on the floor. His mum was laying spread out on it, wearing a black dress.
Harper gasped. Above his mum, hanging from chains in the ceiling, was the Hermetic Ray. The stone thing he’d seen his dad dragging up from the cellar, that he’d copied out of the Magic Book. Something was dripping from its point, which hung right above his mum’s forehead.
Harper felt panic stretch his cheekbones and fill his belly with lead. “He’s killed her,” he whispered to Penny. “She’s dead!” His belly cramped in panic, twisted with pain and fear.
“No.” Penny hissed. “She’s moving.”
Harper looked again. Was Penny just saying that? Mum looked still as stone, and her face was white as paper. Penny nodded reassuringly, but Harper felt tears and struggled to hold them back.
But as he watched, his mum did move slightly. Turned her head just a fraction. He thought he even heard her moan.
Penny nudged him with an elbow and mouthed the word again: “Ready?”
Harper nodded.
“Go,” Penny breathed.
Harper burst from behind the screen, willing himself to get this right.
He dashed towards his dad and punched him in the back, hard, using his knuckles and every drop of strength in his body.
Alec spun round, a storm cloud filling his face, his brows dark and crowded, bushier than Harper remembered.
Harper kicked him as hard as he could in the shin, then dashed back across the attic to the stairs and down. He didn’t stop, didn’t look back—just ran down the stairs as his dad bellowed behind him: “Boy! You boy!”
Harper ran down the bedroom corridor as his dad thunked down the attic stairs behind him.
Harper dodged the oranges at the top of the grand staircase and flew down the carpeted main stairs. At the bottom, he turned into the kitchen corridor, plastering himself against the wall and waiting to hear his dad trip on the oranges at the top of the gallery landing.
But he heard nothing. Nothing at all, except his own rasping breath.