The room was beastly and dim. Neither a bed nor a chair. Just four walls. A bucket of water. A tall cabinet in the corner. And a door. The guards had separated us. Rebecca was marched up the stairs, screaming my name. Her cries a hammer to my heart. How close we had come to freedom! I was taken to the first floor and led into a sparsely furnished room. Then locked in this horrid cell.
I did a great deal of yelling. Making threats and such. Demanded that they bring Rebecca to me that instant. They didn’t. I slid down the wall and sat. Time slowed to a trickle. I may have dozed. I’m not certain. But a key in the lock roused me. The door opened, pale light spilling across the floor of the dim cell. Then Justice Hallow walked slowly in.
“This cell is connected to my private quarters,” she said. “That makes you rather special. I do hope you are comfortable?”
I stood up. “Oh yes, frightfully content.”
“That will be all,” said Justice Hallow to the guard at the door. When he was gone, the imperious woman came to a stop just inches from my face. “The whole of Prospa House is talking about you.”
“Can you blame them? Now I really must insist that you bring Rebecca to me—I want to see that she hasn’t been hurt.”
“Hurt?” Her chin lifted proudly. “Remedies are revered in this house. They are treated with the greatest kindness and respect.”
“Is that why they groan and sob during the healings?”
“I offer hope in a hopeless world,” said Justice Hallow calmly.
Then she pulled a cloth from the sleeve of her dress. Walked over to the bucket and dunked it. Then returned to my side. “My guards report that you had a strange glowing object beneath your dress.” Justice Hallow began wiping the gray paste from my face rather gently. “I assume it was the Clock Diamond?”
I tried to look baffled. “What on earth is a Clock Diamond?”
Justice Hallow smiled. I thought of Anastasia Radcliff—her very own daughter. Did I dare to mention her name? Something flared inside me like a warning. Telling me to keep quiet. Justice Hallow wrung out the cloth. Then set about cleaning my neck and hands. “I know you have the stone,” she said softly, “and I know where you are from. We cannot have you slipping back to your world, now can we?”
She dropped the cloth and felt around my neck for the Clock Diamond—finding only a silver chain and nothing more. When she realized it wasn’t there, something wild flashed in her eyes. She proceeded to search my pockets. And my boots.
“Where is it?” she said at last.
“Where’s what, dear?”
“Things will go much better if you cooperate.”
“I want to see Rebecca.”
“She is resting, Ivy.”
“How did you know my name? Do you know me?”
Justice Hallow pressed her hands together as if she were praying. “Should I know you?”
“Hard to say—I’m frightfully well known in England. Also Paris and certain pencil shops in Istanbul. Your guards seemed to know who I was the last time I was here.”
“Now that is strange.” She turned and walked to the tall cabinet in the corner. Pulled a key from around her wrist and unlocked the top drawer. Pulled out a small bottle of purple liquid. Slipped it into her pocket. “Who sent you here, Ivy? Was it Miss Frost? Miss Always?” She released a low chuckle. “There was a time when they answered to me—but these days they do as they please.”
“Frost and Always?” I shrugged. “Never heard of them.”
“Miss Frost and Miss Always have certain abilities,” said Justice Hallow. “They can travel between worlds under the right moon, and Miss Always can summon a small army of tiny foot soldiers as easily as opening her mouth—these things must seem very impressive to someone from your world.” A smile played on her lips. “But the powers they have come from the portal. Did you know that, Ivy? Without it, they would be ordinary women.”
I ignored her and tried to look as bored as possible.
“Many years ago, Prospa was a kingdom that indulged in dark magic,” she said, looking around the cell as if it fascinated her. “The Shadow is proof of how horribly it can go wrong. Ivy, I will ask you one more time—where is the Clock Diamond?”
Being a remarkable sort of girl, I’d had the good sense to hide the stone as soon as I was locked in that tiny chamber—removing the diamond from the chain and slipping it beneath the top of my braid. There was a slight bulge, but nothing that called attention to itself. As hiding places went, it was rather perfect.
“I want to see Rebecca,” I said again.
Justice Hallow made no reply. She took a long, calm breath, smiled warmly, and walked from the cell. The door swung shut behind her. I was once again in darkness.
The house was dark and grim. No lights burned in the windows. We stood in the bitter cold looking upon it. “Come, Ivy, we . . .”
My mother coughed violently, doubling over. Drops of blood fell from her mouth into the crisp white snow. She covered her face with a tattered scarf. “It’s not the prettiest house, but it will do for the night. I . . . I must rest awhile.”
It was a horrid place. Broken windows. Marks on the walls. Rooms without doors. There were vagrants fast asleep. Men drinking. A woman with no teeth sitting on the stairs, shouting at someone who wasn’t there. The smell was simply awful.
We found a room upstairs. There was no fire in the room, and it was bitterly cold. We huddled together beside the cold hearth. My mother kept the scarf pulled up around her cheeks. “I know it’s grim,” she said, her breaths heavy and slow. She pulled a note from the top of her dress and slipped it into my pocket. “We’ll find somewhere better tomorrow. Somewhere nice.”
I nodded. But I did not believe her.
A bright light suddenly flashed in my face—and the dream was over. I blinked. Bringing a hand up to shield my eyes. Between my fingers I glimpsed Rebecca standing in the doorway.
“Ivy, are you all right?” The girl rushed into the cell and pulled me to my feet. Hugged me rather feverishly. “Did they hurt you?”
“No, dear, not a bit. How . . . I did not think they would let me see you.”
“Nor did I,” said Rebecca, the faint glow of her translucent skin throwing light upon the walls. “They woke me up and said we were to go.”
I was frowning now. “Go where?”
Two guards marched into the cell, each orange coat cinched at the waist with a thick belt holding two daggers. They grabbed us and marched us from the cell.
“Where are you taking us?” Rebecca asked.
“What is going on?” I demanded to know.
The guard pulling Rebecca looked at us with cool indifference. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
“Justice Hallow’s orders.” That’s what I heard one of the guards mutter as we were hurried down the spiral staircase. We found ourselves back in the same windowless chamber where we had first been captured. The same lime floors and arched brick ceiling.
“Don’t drag your feet!” said one of the guards, pulling Rebecca ahead of me.
“Stay close, Ivy,” said Rebecca meekly. “Stay close.”
“Don’t worry,” I called back. “I’m right behind you!”
“Shut up, both of you!”
We were practically pulled through the dank chamber. There was barely enough time for me to glance at the one part of this underground room that had captured my interest. The pool of water. But as we swept past, headed for the arched doorway, I saw that the water wasn’t the same vibrant gold. Now it was a murky lilac. And as it bubbled it released a hideous odor—a cross between rotting fish and Mother Snagsby.
“We don’t have all night!” said my guard, pushing me through the doorway.
We were marched down a dim passageway. Then out through a thick metal door that led to a walled courtyard, glistening under the emerald moon. There were two carriages waiting by a set of iron gates. Blackened windows. Bolts on the doors.
“They are going to separate us,” said Rebecca anxiously.
“Yes, dear, I’m afraid you’re right.”
But we were both wrong. One of the guards went to the front carriage. The other bundled Rebecca and me into the back carriage—together. The door was shut, and I heard the bolt sliding into place. Then one of the guards gave the word. I heard the carriage in front begin to drive off, and a moment later we followed suit.
There was no light in the cabin, so it was rather helpful that Rebecca gave off a faint glow. In the half light, I could see the uncertainty and the weariness on my friend’s face. And I knew that her head was swimming with bad thoughts.
“This is a good thing, Rebecca,” I said.
“It is?”
“They have taken us together. Is that not a stroke of great fortune?”
But fear pierced the girl’s dark eyes. “Why were there two carriages?” she asked. “Where are we going? What are they going to do with us, Ivy?”
“Not a thing,” I replied with supreme confidence. “For we are never going to reach our destination.”
Rebecca was frowning. So I explained my plan. Then some time flew by. Roughly half an hour. We waited patiently. Finally, with a nod to Rebecca, I began pounding on the roof.
“Please help! Please help!” I hollered as convincingly as I could (which was thoroughly convincing). “Rebecca is dead! She is dead!”
I heard the driver pull up the horses. The carriage slowed. A set of boots hit the road beside us. Then the squeak of the bolt being slid back. The door opened.
“What are you on about?” said the guard.
“Look at her, you neckless fathead,” I sobbed wildly. “She was perfectly fine and then she . . . she wilted and fell against the window.” I bawled like a troll whose bridge had collapsed. “My dear friend is dead as a doornail!”
Rebecca was perfect. Crumbled in the seat. Utterly still. Eyes closed.
“If she’s dead, why’s she still glowing?” snarled the guard.
“What’s going on down there?” called the driver.
“Nothing at all,” shouted the guard. “Just two brats taking us for fools.”
Which was the exact moment I swung my leg and kicked him in the chin. Then unfurled my fist and blew the last of the slumber rocks in his face.
I pulled Rebecca up, and we had leaped from the carriage even before the guard hit the ground. There was a great deal of ruckus and carry-on. The driver cursed us like a drunkard. I saw him jump from the carriage and holler to the carriage in front. But by then we were running like the wind.
The woodlands. We were deep in the woodlands, the white trees standing like an army of ghosts guarding the night. Rebecca and I charged through the moonlit forest. I was in the lead—with no idea where I was going. We just had to get away. Find a place to hide.
Behind us, I heard the driver shouting our names. And a few more voices calling to one another. “Look over there.” “They can’t have gone far.” “Justice Hallow will cut our throats!”
“Why are we stopping?” said Rebecca, panting madly.
I pointed to the tree behind her. It was as white and majestic as the rest. But it had great streaks of black upon the bark. And the trunk was hollowed out. Dead. And a perfect place to hide. For Rebecca, at least.
“What about you, Ivy?” said the girl when I ordered her inside.
She stepped carefully into the hollow. The cavity was small so she had to crouch down. And though she didn’t entirely disappear—her skin was too luminous for that—the shadow of the darkened tree trunk made her difficult to spot.
“What about you, Ivy?” said Rebecca again. “Where will you hide?”
“Nowhere, dear. I’m going to circle around and steal the carriage right from under that driver’s nose. I recently had cause to steal a wagon, and I’m rather good at it. I will drive back this way and collect you.”
“Be careful,” said Rebecca. “Oh, Ivy, be careful!”
I nodded and took off. Making a wide loop around the stationary carriages. I pulled up behind a tree. Looked about. The driver was nowhere to be seen. The guard still unconscious on the ground. Just up ahead, the trees thinned out into a clearing. There was a low stone fence. And a millhouse. I saw the guard from the first carriage stalking about. He kicked his unconscious coworker in the leg and cursed his name. Then he climbed onto the carriage and signaled the driver. “We best get on,” he grunted, “before we lose this one as well.”
Something in what he said pulled at the knot already in my stomach. And brought a tingle to my flesh. I cannot say why exactly, and I knew it wasn’t the time for such things, but I felt utterly compelled to see who was in the back of that carriage.
The driver whipped the horses, and the carriage took off at speed. I sighed—there was no way I could leave Rebecca and start running after it. Besides, in a short time it would be too far down the dirt road to catch. Except that it wasn’t. The carriage turned toward the millhouse.
I glanced around for any sign of our driver. There was none. So I darted through the trees, dropped down, and crept toward the stone fence. The carriage had stopped a few feet from the front door. I peeked over the fence just as the guard jumped down. He unbolted the carriage door. Opened it. Then climbed inside and, a few moments later, climbed out again. Only this time he was carrying something. It was wrapped in a blanket and was about the size and shape of a child. Or a small adult. Were they dead? If so, why would they be locked in a carriage?
The impulse to jump the low fence and take a closer look was overwhelming. But I did not. I simply watched as the guard carried the body toward the house. As he climbed the three steps leading up to the porch, he stumbled. The side of the blanket slipped, revealing a girl—the glow of the green moon a spotlight on her face. And it was all I could do not to cry out. For the girl was me.
