Chapter 13

 

“Grady?” a voice called from inside the house. “Is that you?” The flick of a light switch followed.

Serah slipped past the door Grady held open. A woman wearing blue breeches moved toward them, holding a steaming mug. Her blonde locks were cut short like Grady’s, only hers were fixed in curls that bounced when she walked.

“Oh, hello.” The woman smiled. “Are you one of Grady’s friends from school?”

Serah swallowed before answering, “No, my lady.” She twisted her fingers in the folds of her dress and looked to Grady for help.

He squeezed the bridge of his nose, but a hint of a smile reached his lips. “Hey, Mom. This is Sara. She’s going to Abigail’s party, too.” He gave Serah a sideward glance. “We met in the woods—by the lantern.”

Grady’s mother raised her brows. “Did you find out why that old lantern has been flashing like a beacon?”

“We’re still investigating.” The tinge of suspicion in his voice made Serah blush. “It has to be one of the guys’ pranks. Sara won’t tell me which one she’s related to, but she looks the most like Mason.”

“I see. Well, I love your costume.” Grady’s mother gestured toward a pair of sofas set deeper inside the room. “We can wait here in the sitting room while Grady gets changed.”

Serah sat politely at the edge of a sofa, stunned by how such a cavernous space was used for nothing but sitting. And at how, despite all the room, it was more crowded than Machin’s cottage.

Sparkling bats made of black and purple cloth dangled from ribbons stretched across the walls. Glass pumpkins and unlit candles in shades of orange and green covered shelves and tabletops, filling empty spaces between books and blanketing surfaces of wood. The light in the room shined from a chandelier that hung from the ceiling. Serah suppressed a gasp. Its bulbs shined bright and, like Machin’s lanterns, she couldn’t tell where the light came from. There were no candles, and no flame.

“Would you like a hot drink before you leave for the party?”

Serah watched tendrils of steam rise from the mug, then lowered her eyes. “No, thank you, my lady.”

“You play your role well, dear.” Grady’s mother smiled and raised her brows. “Are you sure?”

Humbled by being in the presence of a great lady, Serah pressed her lips together and nodded. Her mother had raised her not to accept charity she couldn’t return.

“I’d insist but Abigail’s mother usually over-prepares, so there will be plenty to eat and drink at the party. No use getting filled up here.” She sipped at her drink.

When she lifted her head, her gaze shifted to a window with a view of the moon. “The lantern you and Grady visited came with the property,” she explained. “It looked so peaceful where it was, I didn’t want to move it.”

Serah felt her shoulders stiffen. She couldn’t help feeling responsible for something—for causing trouble for this nice, noble family. But she wasn’t sure for what.

A sigh of relief escaped her lips at the sound of boots clomping down the stairs.

Grady bowed before Serah and his mother. “What do you think?” he said, tugging at a belt made of rope wrapped around his waist.

Serah blinked at his transformation. She stood from her seat and admired his tunic, which laced at the chest and hung to his knees. His breeches were brown and looser than his blue ones had been. “Where did you get clothes like these?”

“In the attic.” He unfolded a pair of cloaks draped in his arm; he wrapped one around himself and handed the other to Serah. “Leftovers from the prior owners.”

Grady’s mother smiled. “They must have been costume enthusiasts or history buffs. Farmers don’t wear clothes like that anymore.”

“And they’re clean and appear to be firsthand,” Serah said, inspecting the cloak and its fabric, woolen with leather cords. At Grady’s puzzled expression, she added, “This looks like it has never been worn.”

Or mended, she thought, suddenly self-conscious about her dress. She draped the cloak around her shoulders and fastened its ties.

Grady looked down at her, his eyes amused. “So, do you think this will work?”

She considered his question, and wondered whether Machin knew she’d find this young man on the other side of the lantern—the portal from Havenbrim to this new and interesting place. And yet he truly looks like he could be from Havenbrim.

“If farmer’s clothing is more appropriate for a Halloween party in Smyrna, Tennessee than your regular clothing, then yes,” she said.

“I agree. You two look perfect together,” said Grady’s mother. “Will you be taking the car?”

After a long look at Serah, he chuckled. “I don’t think that would fit our theme, and there aren’t any horses in the garage.” He held open the door. “It’s not far, if you don’t mind walking.”

“I’m used to walking, so I don’t mind,” she answered, then stepped through the doorway and into the night.

 

“So, where are you really from, Sara?”

The moon highlighted the frown beneath her squinting eyes.

Grady laughed and held up his palms. “You don’t have to expose whoever put you up to this.” He shrugged. “I thought it’d be nice to learn more about you since we’re going to the party together.”

She crossed her arms and exhaled. “Just because you haven’t heard of Havenbrim doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. I could tell you more about what my life was like there, if only you would ask.”

“Okay, fine.” His lips quirked into a grin. “What is Halloween like in Havenbrim?”

Serah shook her skirt free of leaves collected during the walk and turned to him with a thoughtful smile.

“It’s a night of light and remembrances.” Moonbeams shone in her eyes. “Families light lanterns, and we bake fig cakes and gingerbread, which we wrap with ribbons and leave out for the hungry.”

She frowned, thinking of Graham and his hammock in the forest, and wondered whether he would travel from house to house that night—following the light of the lanterns and collecting cakes left on doorsteps. Had Machin not taken her in, she would have been forced to do the same. Her mind flashed with a vision of herself sitting in the hollow beneath a pine tree and unwrapping cakes. With a shudder, she pulled the wool cloak more tightly around herself.

“Are you cold?”

“No,” Serah exhaled, shaking away the unpleasant thoughts. “Halloween is lovely in Havenbrim. It’s Machin’s—my master’s—favorite holiday. He’s a mechanic and glazier, and I am, or at least I was, his apprentice. I imagine he and Gelsey are celebrating right now.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of detail I wouldn’t have thought to add,” Grady said under his breath. Doubt crept into his eyes, but Serah didn’t notice.

Her attention was focused on something far grander than anything she’d seen in Havenbrim.