There was a faint thump from somewhere behind the mantelpiece. Zane blinked and the ghost was gone.
“Hey!” Emma shouted, her voice slightly muffled. “I’m in here!”
The Gravemother momentarily forgotten, Zane hurried to the wall. “Are you behind this panel? Did the Gravemother put you there?”
“For like the millionth time, no! She protected me! I was stuck, and she said she couldn’t open it for me but that she was going to find you guys, but you’re all sure taking your time!”
“When I said that you should be more assertive, I didn’t mean to me!” Zane was glad, though. Emma was sassing, but at least that meant she wasn’t injured. “You’re not cold or anything?”
“I’m not! I don’t know how she did it, but this place feels pretty warm, even if it’s dark. She’s still pretty sad, though. She was looking for a kid named Emmy.”
“I thought she was calling for you!”
Wherever Emma was, Zane could hear her indignant snort. “Of course not! If you actually listen, it’s pretty obvious she’s referring to someone else.”
But that didn’t make sense.
“Emma wasn’t ever in harm’s way,” Zane gasped, as realization finally struck. “She was looking for someone else named Emmy.”
Ginevra Traithe had wanted to protect the three orphaned children, except she hadn’t been able to with the first two, and the whereabouts of the third child was still unknown. Was he or she here, in this room? What were the kids’ names again? Timothy and Jack and—
It’s not looking good for her, Alberic Moss had written in his journal, now that Ned’s gone as well—
She got rather irate and said that Ned didn’t like being called Ned—
It’s only a matter of time before they find her.
And then, oddly enough, he remembered what Mr. Vink had told them. Your name and what people choose to call you are two entirely different things, don’t you think?
“Emmett!” Zane said aloud.
Garrett looked at him. “Who?”
“The third boy who went missing,” Zane said. “Ned. That’s what Alberic Moss called him. The other two boys were called Timothy and Jack, except Dad said Jack was a nickname for John.”
“Sure, I guess, but I don’t see how that—”
“You know what Ned is a nickname for? Edward. I know that because my ancestor’s name is Edward, and we still have letters from his friends who called him Ned and Teddy and stuff like that. But that’s not what Ginevra called him, because she said he didn’t like being called Ned. She called him Emmy instead, which is also short for Emmett. Edward Emmett Atkins.”
Garrett stared at him. “You mean it’s been your ancestor all this time who she’s been looking for? But then what? It’s not like he’s still alive, right? Wait, do you think that maybe his body is somewhere in this room, too, and that someone just made up all those pictures and letters you have to him?”
“No. There’s a reason she keeps looking for Emmy, but she never mentions Timothy’s or Jack’s name. She knows where they are, but she doesn’t know where Emmy is. Emmy’s body isn’t in this house because Emmett was alive and escaped. His survival is the reason Emma and Dad and I are alive, too!”
Garrett’s eyes widened. “Do you mean—”
“That’s who she’s been looking for all along.” It was all falling into place at rapid speed, and Zane was having a hard time breathing. “Edward’s the third child who Ginevra tried to protect. That’s why I can see her. Maybe she saw a bit of him in me and Emma, too. She isn’t angry at us, she’s just desperate to understand why we remind her so much of him! And that’s why we couldn’t find his body like the other two. She actually did what she set out to do. She protected him, but the rest of the town didn’t know. And she could have left with him, too! Alberic Moss’s journal said that she’d fled Solitude, but maybe something happened that separated them!”
“Will that be enough?” Garrett asked. “Will knowing that you’re a descendant of her Emmy finally help her rest?”
“Maybe,” Zane said. “But I’ve got a better idea. Stay here and keep talking to Emma. I’ll be right back.”
“What? Where are you—hey!”
Zane ignored him. He ran out of the room and back into the hallway. There weren’t as many people from Obscura Adventures in the foyer, save for the few who were monitoring the cameras there, and none of them even looked up when Zane hurried past them and out the door.
It was a good thing that his father was still in the hospital, because he probably wasn’t going to approve of what Zane was about to do.
Zane biked as fast as he dared and arrived at their apartment in record time. As he’d thought, the folder was on his father’s desk. Zane riffled through it hurriedly and nodded, satisfied that the documents were all there. I hope this works, he thought grimly.
It took him another five minutes to bike back to Stilgarth Manor, all while remaining undetected. Garrett looked ready to crawl out of his skin when he finally returned, visibly relaxing when he saw Zane. “Took you long enough,” he muttered.
“Sorry. Did anything else happen?”
“Not really. Emma’s still somewhere inside this room and doing a lot better than I am, I think. But every now and then that clicking noise starts up. I know that I should expect it by now, but it still scares the crap out of me every time. Did you bring it?”
“Yeah.” Zane pulled out the first document: the old black-and-white photograph of Edward Emmett Atkins as an adult, surrounded by his family. He waved it in the air, spinning slowly around in a circle. “Ginevra Traithe,” he called. “I found him. I found your Emmy.”
The room turned cold, Zane’s breath leaving him in visible puffs, and he knew before even turning around that the Gravemother was back. He heard Garrett gasp and saw the ghost drift quietly toward him, her eyes fixated on the photo he held in his hand.
“This is Edward Emmett Atkins,” Zane said. “That’s Emmy, isn’t he? You tried your best to make sure he was protected, even if that meant sending him away where no one would hurt him. Even if that meant sending him away from you.” More things locked into place. “And that’s why we have that letter from your sister claiming Emmy as her son—she was in on it, too, right? It was easier to pretend she was his mother if they were living in a new town where no one knew who he was or knew what happened to the other boys. Emmy held on to that certificate, the one that declared your sister his legal parent. He knew how important that was to you.”
With shaking fingers, he extended his arm farther out, hoping that the ghost could see the picture more clearly. “The problem was that you never made it out of the house. You never knew what happened to him. But look! You did save him. He lived a long and happy life, surrounded by his children and his grandchildren. I know he was grateful for everything you did for him, and I know that he tried to live the way you would have wanted him to, to make you proud. You don’t have to worry about him now. He was happy. We’re happy, too.”
The Gravemother didn’t move. For a moment Zane feared that it wouldn’t work, that it would only make her angrier.
But the ghost let out a soft breath, and this time it was a gentle sound that wasn’t accompanied by clicking.
Emmy, she whispered, and reached out with suddenly long, slender human fingers toward the picture in his hand.
And then the room spun, flickered, and winked out like candlelight.
• • •
There was the burning fireplace again. Zane found himself staring straight at it and realized that the rest of the room had also been transformed. There were curtains across the windows and armchairs and a table, and it looked nothing like the bare quarters they’d been standing in scant moments before.
Garrett was beside him, trembling, as he, too, processed what was happening.
There were flames blazing up from within the fireplace, cheerful and bright. Ginevra Traithe stood before it, as pale as the fire was brilliant yellow. She gave no indication that she could see them.
With her was a young boy, bundled up in a thick coat, with a satchel at his feet.
“Go,” Ginevra whispered urgently, taking the bag and pressing it into his hands before ushering him out the door. “Not a sound, lest he hears!”
“I won’t leave you,” the boy protested, eyes filling with tears. “I won’t go and leave you here with him!”
Ginevra smiled down at him, her love evident in her gaze. “I’m not casting you out. I’m merely sending you to where my sister lives, and she’ll take care of you while I sort things out here. Don’t worry. I promised you I would protect you, and this is the only way. Please, Emmy.”
Footsteps echoed on the landing above them. A wooden creak signaled that whoever it was was descending the steps to the first floor.
“There is no time!” Ginevra cried out. “Please trust me, Emmy. You must leave now, or he will find you!”
Trembling, the boy nodded, then hugged her impulsively. Ginevra embraced him and planted a kiss on his head. “Go,” she whispered again, and tugged the door open, and the boy scurried off into the night.
She closed the door and whirled around just as Harrison Traithe strode into the room, fury in his gaze.
“Why aren’t you playing cards with Francis and the others?” she asked, her voice tense.
The man ignored her question. “What are you doing, Ginevra? Was it that boy again?” He seethed. “Another boy you love more than me?”
Ginevra said nothing, only raised her chin stubbornly and stood with her back against the door. The man stepped toward her and lifted his hand menacingly—