CENTAUR

24

“I CANNOT TELL IF ANYONE’S HOME,” Penelope remarked as they stood on the steps. Marianne still had black crepe tied to the front door, as well as a wreath. The flowers strung through the ring had started to wilt, as if it too had been touched by the death that had passed through the household. With the curtains tightly drawn so that not even a trace of light could escape, Hetty couldn’t blame Penelope for wanting to leave nearly the moment they arrived.

“Maybe,” Penelope added, “we should come back another time.”

“Nonsense.” Hetty stepped forward and knocked. “You can go home if you like.”

“I’m not leaving you here alone to get into mischief.”

“Mischief ?” Eunice asked.

“It’s always a strong possibility with Hetty.”

The door opened and a cast iron pan swung out in a wide arc.

Hetty ducked to the side in time, and watched as Marianne staggered out with the pan, nearly striking Penelope on the head. She still wore black, but that was the only thing about this situation that could have been expected. Her dress was wrinkled, and her hair, usually so carefully arranged, hung loose and limp around her face.

“Eunice, Penelope?” Marianne blinked, and then she turned to see Hetty safely out of range. “Henrietta, you’re here too?”

“We come to see you,” Eunice said. “But we don’t want to bother you if you’re busy.”

“I thought you were someone else,” Marianne said, glancing along the street, then retreated back into her house. “Come in, can’t have you standing out here like a couple of toads sitting pretty on a log.”

She disappeared into the house before they could get a word in otherwise.

“I think I just changed my mind,” Penelope mumbled, but she followed Hetty inside all the same.

Plunged into darkness, Hetty needed several moments to make out the familiar shapes in the room. With the curtains drawn, the only source of light was a lone lantern in the middle of the coffee table.

Marianne locked the door behind them and ran her fingers along the wood. The sigil of Ursa Major glowed for a moment before fading into a shimmery sheen.

“I wasn’t expecting visitors,” Marianne said.

“At least, not welcomed ones,” Hetty said, her eyes flicking toward the makeshift weapon. “Those men come back around?”

“What men?” Penelope demanded, but Hetty shushed her.

Marianne’s shoulders slouched. “I’m afraid you were right to be concerned. Yesterday I came home to find a window in the upper bedroom open and the contents of my room strewn about. Nothing was missing, least not that I could tell right away. This morning the men were back and said they waited this long out of respect for Charlie’s passing but in the new week they’d be coming around to settle his debts. They said the contents of the household would be enough.”

“How would they know that?” Penelope asked.

Hetty could guess how. It wouldn’t be the first time creditors snooped around to check the debtor’s wares before they came calling officially.

“Where are your children?” Eunice asked as she placed the friendship album on the nearest table.

“I sent them and Charlie’s mother to stay with the neighbors. But I’m afraid to stay here no matter the protections placed around me.”

“Anyone would be,” Hetty said. “Which room got broken into?”

“Down the hall, last door on the left,” Marianne said. When Hetty started for the stairs, she added rather sharply, “You’re going to look?”

“Of course I am. You can’t stay here if there’s trouble. I’ll be right back.”

Hetty chose the Phoenix sigil, but as she had no source to attach it to, she shifted the sigil to its raw form so a bird with a long plume of a tail flew ahead of her, lighting the way. Odd shadows danced along her head as she walked, the stairs creaking under her weight. Hetty ignored the other rooms for now, choosing to first investigate the one that Marianne had pointed out.

At her first sight of the bedroom, Hetty found Marianne to be braver than expected. Hetty would not have remained in a house with a room left like this.

Ramshackle was not a strong enough word for what lay before her. Furniture was upturned on its side as if flicked away by a giant, the door to the wardrobe wrenched off its hinges, and both the clothes and the linen that littered the floor were torn and ripped apart. Pieces of glass sparkled under the windowsill as the Phoenix flew over it as it toured the room.

Hetty poked her foot into the ruin.

Someone had come in here looking for something. But what?

Eyeing the jewelry box resting on the desk, Hetty ran a finger along the casing.

Nothing obvious had been stolen. But could they have been after something not obvious—perhaps something Marianne or Charlie had hidden? Hetty took out the tiny key she had found inside Charlie’s watch. She held the key against the lock on the jewelry box. The lock was too big, but there could be others.

With the Phoenix hovering over her head, Hetty drew the Hare sigil right on the floorboards.

The vertices and lines glowed then pulsed a wave of white light that hit the walls and ceiling at the same time. When it faded, a mosaic of different colors revealed themselves to Hetty.

A line of magic moved from the window, jumping to the wardrobe and then to other parts of the room.

“Someone broke into the room,” Hetty whispered to herself, following the line. “Immediately rifled through the desk, the wardrobe, and the bed.” From the bed, she followed the jagged magic to the vanity, where it looped around and then darted to the door.

Hetty followed it out into the hallway. The detecting magic grew thin and stretched until it stopped abruptly in front of a closet door. Hetty reached out a hand for the doorknob. It didn’t move at first under her hand, but a mighty tug popped it open.

Her victory, small as it was, vanished in a heartbeat.

An arm clamped around her, and something cold and sharp pressed against her neck.

“If you scream,” a voice hissed into her ear, “you die.”