ORION

6

AS THE YOUNG MAN, Timothy, rowed them to the island, he told them more about the strange illness that had struck his niece. Hetty didn’t pay much attention to his words, but it sounded like something rather ordinary. The little girl was a victim due to location more than anything else.

Stars Haven was a tiny spit of an island that you didn’t visit unless you knew someone there. It wasn’t much of a town, just several families who lived fairly close to each other and a store that was more like a trading post. The people who lived there made a living elsewhere, and more people left each year. But the island was still home to many. It had been a few years since Hetty had visited, and little had changed. Children had grown, the old were grayer, and buildings were marked only by the spray of the river.

Timothy’s sister lived in the central cluster of homes. She greeted them, more out of politeness than any true interest.

Penelope disappeared into the sickroom and Timothy went out to collect the plants Penelope had told him to gather.

This left Hetty and Darlene alone in the kitchen with nothing more to do than tidy up, make tea, and see if their help was needed.

Wanting to keep things light, Hetty asked as she stirred her tea, “How is your painting job going at the art school​—”

“I am sorry about what happened with the medium,” Darlene interrupted. “You wouldn’t have had an old wound poked at if we hadn’t gone.”

Hetty grimaced into her tea. “Or if I’d kept my mouth shut. But enough about me. Who died recently that you wanted to be put in contact with?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Those are words that make me even more concerned and more likely to pry. Do you want me to mention something to Benjy? Because he’ll figure it out without asking you three questions.”

“That many?”

“He likes to be certain. Tell me what it is.”

“I suppose there is no harm in telling you.” Darlene’s hand tightened around her cup as she took a moment before she started to speak. “I went to see the medium in hopes of speaking to the ghost of Raimond Duval.”

Not expecting that name, Hetty nearly dropped her cup. “Well, this requires stronger drink than tea!”

“It’s not how it sounds!” Darlene’s words came out in a rush. “George’s new job is the post that Raimond Duval held at Olm­stead. When we closed our little school, I prayed that George would find a job that would pay enough so I could pursue an art career and paint what I wanted instead of the things that sold well. When I heard Raimond died so terribly in that fire, I felt my ill thoughts killed him as surely as a bullet.”

“How would talking to a medium help with that?” Hetty asked. “Did you want to apologize?”

Darlene actually started to seriously answer before she stopped herself. “You shouldn’t make fun like that!”

“I’m sorry,” Hetty said, so insincerely that Darlene grunted. “It’s just that Penelope didn’t think the medium was real, and I doubted the woman’s ability, but you . . . you believed.”

“It would be silly not to! We know only a fraction of how the world works. The bit that we claim to know might not be certain at all.”

The kitchen door opened. Timothy entered from outside, clutching a few plants in his hands, the tangled roots holding clumps of dirt like grasping fingers. “How are things?”

“Haven’t heard anything yet,” Hetty said.

Timothy slumped into his chair and put his head into his hands. “I need one good piece of news. Anything to put me at ease. I have no one to turn to and I have no place to go for solace, after the church fire.”

Hetty perked up at that word. “Fire? How much damage was there?”

“Mostly smoke. Someone saw it before it could spread. It’s funny, though. The fire was in the cellar, but none of the protections on the church’s door had been destroyed. No one knows where it started.”

“It started in the cellar, because there’s a tunnel that leads out to the coast,” Hetty said.

“How do you know that!” Timothy exclaimed.

“I walked through it myself,” Hetty added. “You see, I was one of the conductors that came through here in years past. The last time I was here was largely spent in that tunnel.”

“You were. I see. A tunnel,” the young man said faintly. “How many others know about this?”

That was a good question, and one Hetty was already turning over. This was the second time that day that tunnels had become a point of conversation. And she was willing to bet this one saw some sort of trouble as well.

 

“Have you been on the island before?” Hetty asked Darlene as they strode along the neat path, walking past homes that had been there since the Revolutionary days. The sun was starting to sink in the sky, and golden light danced along the roofs.

“Somewhat, when I was with Marion Watts the night we ran after a slave catcher. Although, she did most of the work. I just kept the boat from sinking.”

“What a very modest story, considering I heard a different version.”

“Not everyone has a flair for your dramatics,” Darlene added rather sharply. “Why are you interested in this?”

“It’s odd,” Hetty admitted. “Odd like the tunnel I found earlier today. It might be something, it might not be, but I learned it’s better to poke around now when I have the time and inclination for it.”

“Don’t want to make another trip out here?”

“Rather not need to,” Hetty said. “Here we are.”

Hetty studied the rocky ground beneath their feet. It looked different with sunlight around her, but the entrance of the tunnel was right where Hetty had remembered it. The ground was still uneven and its location marked by an oddly shaped rock with moss on its north side.

Hetty tapped her boot against the side, and the rock shimmered to reveal a weathered door with a snake on it.

Brushing her thumb along her choker, Hetty stirred the magic bound to the star sigil for the Herdsman. A star-speckled woman dropped to the ground next to them. Urging the star sigil forward, Hetty sought first to find traces of the magic that lay there, as well as any traps that might be lurking.

Nothing glimmered, nothing shimmered, but something stirred.

Then it leapt out at Hetty.

Hetty could only see the shape of the star sigil before the Herdsman swung out her staff.

The staff struck and magic clashed.

When Hetty could look again, the star-speckled woman held in her hands a struggling sea monster. The star sigil flailed about, glowing so brightly that the actual constellation inside it became visible. Not good. Hetty’s spell should have contained it, but light sparked along the Sea Serpent and it appeared about to explode.

Using the Herdsman as the anchor for her spell, Hetty drew out into the air the star sigils of Canis Minor and Aries to help keep it in place, and then pressed down.

“What are you doing?” Darlene called.

“Overwhelming it!” Hetty shifted forward, both hands curled into fists as she held on to the spells. “If it’s not a trap, it’s a signal, and we can’t let it go far!”

With a nod Darlene drew her own spells, her fingers flashing to form the Swan star sigil. The majestic bird of stars swooped in and swiped at the Sea Serpent. This burst of the magic weighed the scales in their favor, because the moment the bird joined in, the sea monster vanished in a puff of smoke.

“Stay here,” Hetty said to her friend. “I’ll be right back.”

“You’re going in there?”

“Yes” was all Hetty said as she stepped through the tunnel.

There was no need for such concerns. There was nothing down here except for musty, ill-used air, and a surprising amount of dust. She smelled only smoke as she neared the tunnel’s end. Only then did she see signs of disturbances. Not just from the fire, but for the reason the tunnel still existed.

“Wheel ruts,” she murmured, running her boot along them. “Moving something very heavy. They’re deep.”

Hetty followed the tracks through the tunnel, her eyes skirting along the rock as she remembered the last time she was here.

It was not long after the end of the war, in the early summer of ’65. They had spent nearly two years away from Philadelphia as shifting battles in the war, leads for Hetty’s sister, and a variety of adventures made returning home tricky, and they were finally coming home.

Somewhere around Wilmington they stole a rowboat and paddled up the river. Benjy did most of the paddling, Hetty remembered. A secretary to a Confederate general had escaped from Fort Delaware that night​—​something that Hetty would learn later. Though they were unaware of it that night, it had added another layer of danger as they crept past torches and sorcery. Hetty kept her magic primed for any disturbance. Luckily they met nothing along the way, and when they arrived at Stars Haven they dragged the boat with them into this tunnel.

Hetty could still see the scratches in the wall from dragging the boat through the tunnel until they dropped it at the foot of the stairs.

There was no boat here now, of course. And the stairs swayed and creaked underneath her feet as she climbed them. This was age and wear, but the fire couldn’t have helped much.

The smell of smoke was thickest here.

Wrinkling her nose, Hetty did her best to ignore it, only to stop when she felt a chill sweep past her.

The chill of skating along thin ice.

This was familiar.

More familiar than she liked.

Hetty drew forward, more than a bit curious. With the trap at Valentine Duval’s home still fresh on her mind, she ran a finger along the band at her neck, stirring up the magic that remained there.

This time she would be better prepared. And if there was no trap, well, she wasn’t going to complain.

Carefully, Hetty placed her hand on the door.

The door was locked, but there was no magic on it. No wards, either, but Hetty expected that.

She pressed hard, uncertain what her next move would be.

Then she heard a scream.

Darlene.

Hetty spun, abandoning her questions as she ran back to the tunnel’s entrance.

Outside, Darlene clung desperately to a rock. Strands of thick red light pulled her by the ankles out to the river. It was a strong spell. Darlene was lifted parallel to the ground. It was not yet successful, but it would be. The rock was slowly moving in the ground and Darlene’s grip was slipping despite her desperate attempts to hang on.

“Hetty!” Darlene cried. “Help!”

And that was all her friend needed to say.

Hetty drew the Arrow star sigil. Several star-speckled arrows appeared in the air next to her. She flung them at the hex. The first bounced off the red strands, but the second and third had some effect. But not enough to fully destroy them.

She needed to go bigger. Find the source, overwhelm the hex.

Hetty glanced over to where land met the river. The magic ran all the way into the water.

What was doing this?

Hetty flicked her fingers in the air to form Orion. The star-speckled hunter took form next to her and she directed him across the river.

“Go stop it,” she commanded. “One more thing. Your sword.”

Orion stopped in the water, turned, and tossed a glittering sword at Hetty.

She caught it. Not by grasping the hilt, but by manipulating the magical energies so that it hovered over her hands. She flipped her hands to line up the sword with the rope made of magic.

“Don’t move,” Hetty urged Darlene.

Hetty brought Orion’s sword down exactly where the magic and Darlene’s ankles parted ways.

The hex vanished in a puff of smoke, and Darlene fell to the ground with a soft thud.

“Stars,” Darlene moaned, as she lay there gripping the rock. “Stars above!”

Taking this as a sign that Darlene wasn’t hurt in a meaningful way, Hetty gazed back out toward the river.

It was steadily growing dark, but in the distance she thought she saw something on the water. It could be the last ferry making its way back to Philadelphia for the evening. It could be fishermen. Or it could be someone else who happened to be on the water, improbably waiting and watching for someone to disturb this tunnel.

“I hope you found what you’re looking for.” Darlene’s glasses were askew as she clambered to her feet. Her voice trembled, but she didn’t look like she was going to throw up.

“Not exactly,” Hetty admitted. “I hoped to find something interesting, and I found something a bit more. A case. This tunnel is a curious thing,” Hetty settled on saying. “And I want to look into it.”

“Of course you do.” Darlene sighed. “Why do I even ask?”

“Because you like to know.” Hetty grinned.

“Most of the time.” Darlene brushed her hands against her dress. “When do you plan to start poking around in other tunnels?”

Hetty affected innocence. “Why would I do that? I don’t even know where all the tunnels are!”

“But I do.” Darlene tapped her nose. “I know all the tunnels like this that were used by the Vigilance Society. I could draw you a map.”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course. Isn’t it easier to know where you’re going instead of stumbling around?”