Fourteen

Eleanor was silent through dinner. She could barely eat.

Pip and Otto had gone home with Ms. Foster. There’d been no point in running, not with the beasts behind them and Ms. Foster right there. They’d traded quick whispers, cobbling together a plan in the steps between the trees and the driveway. They’d just have to sneak out again tonight. They might not be able to get away from Eden Eld altogether, but if they could stay away from the January Society, it might be enough.

They just had to wait until the adults were asleep.

Eleanor watched the glowing numbers on the microwave and ran her fingers over the scar on her palm. Not long now. Not long at all.

“We should do something for your birthday,” Jenny said suddenly. Her contractions had taken a break long enough for her to eat in comfort, and she seemed buoyed by the brief respite. “We’ve been so busy we haven’t set anything up. I feel terrible. Maybe we could have some of your friends over? Pip and Otto?”

Eleanor stared at her. She felt numb. Like she couldn’t feel anything. “That would be nice,” she said dully.

Ben’s brow furrowed. “You okay there, sport?”

“I don’t feel very well,” Eleanor said. At least that wasn’t a lie. But she wouldn’t be able to sit here much longer without lying about something.

There might be a curse ready to snatch her away come midnight, but she was suddenly angry most of all that it had taken Ben and Jenny from her. She couldn’t tell them the truth. They couldn’t help her. She had lost her mother and she was losing them, too, even though they were right in front of her.

“Is it okay if I just go to bed?” she asked. She would look in the book again. If she read it one more time, maybe she would see the solution, the way to save them all and stop the curse from taking them.

“Of course,” Jenny said. “Do you need us to bring you anything? Cocoa? Tea?”

Eleanor just shook her head. She hurried out, feeling their eyes on her, wishing they could help her, wishing she could reassure them. In her room she climbed into her bed and tucked herself against the pillows, bending over the book.

Something scraped outside her window.

She sat bolt upright. Just a branch, she thought, but there were no trees that close to this side of the house that were anywhere near tall enough to reach the third floor. She pulled herself back against the headboard.

There was something crouched on her windowsill—something big and black, with two bright green eyes that stared in at her, unblinking. And then it stood, and she saw its shape properly. It was a cat. An enormous cat, with thick, long fur.

The cat stood up on its hind legs, putting its big front paws on the glass of the window—and then it slid right through. It jumped, smooth and graceful, and thumped lightly onto the floor. It shook itself a little, sending gray flecks flying in all directions. And then, with a single leap, it sprang up onto the end of her bed and sat there, twitching its tail and staring at her.

“I know what you are,” Eleanor said. She meant to say it in a strong voice, but it came out a whisper.

“Is that so?” asked the cat, its voice feminine, silky and deep. Its mouth did not move, but Eleanor heard the voice plain and clear. “Then who am I, pet?”

“You’re the cat-of-ashes,” Eleanor said.

“So I am,” the cat said. “Good. You’re a few steps ahead of the last bunch, then. You’re clever, I can tell. And sharp. Two of my favorite things to be. But clever enough? Sharp enough? Hm.” She flicked her tail across the bedspread, leaving a streak of ash. She smelled of burnt things, like woodsmoke and charcoal.

“The last bunch? What last bunch?”

“Oh dear. Not so far ahead as I’d hoped,” the cat said. The cat stood and took several steps toward her. Her weight pulled the blankets tighter over Eleanor’s legs. She stopped with one paw lifted as Eleanor pressed farther against the headboard. “Frightened, are you? You needn’t be. No one can touch you, except on All Hallows’ Eve. Midnight to midnight. And it’s just now—”

The clock in the hall chimed the hour.

Eight.

The cat’s ear swiveled toward the noise, then back again. “A little time left before the games begin.”

“What games?” Eleanor whispered.

“That depends on you. Some years it’s not sporting at all,” the cat said. “And sometimes it’s a near thing indeed. The teams are a bit stacked, of course, and only one side has won so far, but that could always change. Personally, I root for you kids every time. I’m a sucker for the underdog story.” She laughed, low and throaty, and blinked her big green eyes. “They’re going to come for you, little beast, and put you through the door to the gray, and then you’ll belong to him, and to his sisters. That’s the way it works. That’s the deal that’s been struck. Unless you can wiggle your way out of it, which I’m rather hoping you can.”

“But you work for them. For him. Mr. January.” Eleanor said the name with confidence she didn’t feel, but the cat-of-ashes didn’t contradict her.

“Cats do not work,” she said with disdain. “But I will allow that my activities do serve him. I hate the man, but I haven’t much of a choice in it, I’m afraid. Still, I can sneak in a little rebellion here and there. I wouldn’t be able to call myself cat if I couldn’t.”

“Are you his prisoner?” Eleanor asked. “Could we free you? Could—”

“Now, now. That won’t get you anywhere. My troubles can’t be solved quick enough to do you any good, and even if you broke my bonds, dear, I’m a cat. We aren’t known for our constancy. I’d probably wander off and forget to help.”

Eleanor couldn’t tell if the cat was making fun of her, but she was less and less afraid. Of the cat, at least. “You said they’re coming for us. Who?”

“Oh, dear. If you can’t figure that out, you’re doomed for sure.”

“But someone is coming for us. Me and Otto and Pip.”

“That’s right, little beast,” the cat said. “You’re the mice in this trap, and it’s closing fast.”

“Can you help us now? You must know how we can save ourselves. Even just a little hint.”

“There are things I can’t say, and things I shouldn’t say, and things I don’t care to say,” the cat said. “But personally, I have never liked shouldn’t. I’ll give you this much, and then you’re on your own. Bartimaeus Ashford has an ego bigger than the house he built to satisfy it, and he is almost as clever as he believes he is. This place is still full of his tricks, if you know where to look, and some of them might come in handy.”

“Where?” Eleanor asked.

“Tsk-tsk. If you need me to tell you everything, I don’t see how you have any chance of surviving,” the cat-of-ashes said. She stretched, nails raking the bedspread and leaving scorch marks. “I already brought you the book, and that’s more than any of the others got. But because your mother is such a nice woman and always scratches that spot behind my ear, I’ll tell you one more thing: everything in this house has a purpose. Everything.”

With that, she jumped down onto the floor.

“Wait! You know my mom? Where is she?” Eleanor demanded, flinging off the covers and leaping onto the floor herself. But the cat-of-ashes was already bounding to the windowsill. She paused on this side of the glass and lashed her tail one last time.

“That I can’t tell you, but I’m sure you’ll find out on your own. Now remember, little beast. Between midnight and midnight, you’re vulnerable. And the next time we see each other, you’d do well to be afraid.”

“If you can’t tell me where my mother is, can you tell me why she tried to kill me?” Eleanor demanded.

The cat’s eyes widened. “Now, who told you a thing like that?” she asked. Her tail thrashed. Then the cat-of-ashes leaped from the windowsill and out of sight.

Eleanor lurched after her, running to the window, but there was no sign of the cat. Eleanor’s heart beat hard in her chest. Of course her mother had set the fire. There was no one else in the house to do it.

Was there?

Eleanor ran her thumb along the shiny part of her palm, the scar the scalding doorknob had left. Why would she warn Eleanor to stay away from Eden Eld right before she lit the house on fire?

What if she hadn’t set it? What if she hadn’t run away?

What if she had been taken?

The thought was heavy as a stone, and it dragged Eleanor down to the floor in a crouch. She wrapped her arms around her knees. What if her mother wasn’t evil, and she needed Eleanor’s help?

She wanted to run out and find her right away, but she had no idea where to go—and she couldn’t leave Eden Eld. And even if she managed that, she couldn’t save her mother—if she really needed saving—until she’d saved herself. And Pip. And Otto.

Midnight to midnight. They had less than four hours left. She listened to the ticking of the clock, and she waited.