Nineteen

A Well-Placed Trap

Thursday afternoon after school, Fin finally returned to the Ack. She carried the weight of her exhaustion like a too-heavy coat. She trudged to the grocery store without seeing much of the town around her.

Shouting was coming from inside the Ack. Fin went still, unsure if she wanted to go inside. She’d heard more than one tourist get into an argument with Mr. Hardin about him not selling matches or barbeque equipment.

But it didn’t sound like one of the normal arguments.

“—out of your mouth! Put that down! No, do not—”

Fin pushed open the grocery-store door and blinked at the sight before her.

Mr. Hardin had a broom in hand and appeared to be trying to shoo something out the back door.

“Shut the door,” he said, a little desperately, and Fin pulled it closed behind her. There was a scampering sound, claws on linoleum, and then the cat raced by in a blur of tail and whiskers. Fin nearly leaped atop the counter in surprise.

“What’s going on?” she said.

“Whintossers,” he said, exasperated. “Someone left a boxful of them. I thought it was a delivery, so I opened it and—and there’s a family of them, and now I’m trying to—come on!”

Fin saw the telltale shape of a small, gray, rodent-like creature scurrying through the dry goods aisle. “If a tourist sees them, they’ll think we have rats,” said Mr. Hardin. “I’m trying to shoo them out the back but the cat won’t stop—come on!”

The cat tried to pounce on one of the tiny whintossers. The creature scurried up a wall and hung there, apparently at ease with its ten legs.

Fin blinked a few times. She should help. Before any tourist came inside.

She wasn’t Eddie or Nick. She wasn’t going to grab for the magical creatures. Which left only one option.

The cat sprinted around a corner, raising his paw. Fin made a dive for him, catching the cat around the middle and hauling him up to her chest. It was like holding a very wriggly stuffed animal.

“Good!” cried Mr. Hardin. “Okay, you hold him. And I’ll get these lads out of here.” He gently pried the whintosser from the wall and then used the broom to herd the others out the back door. Fin listened to the sound of the claws—ten legs meant a lot of claws—as they clicked against the floor.

Once the creatures were outside, Mr. Hardin shut the door. Fin dropped the struggling cat, which looked up at her with an expression of deep betrayal.

“Thanks, Finley,” said Mr. Hardin. He leaned against the counter, wiping at his brow with a handkerchief. “I don’t know who would do that. Just left a box of those creatures on my doorstep. When I opened it up, they all sprang out.”

Fin’s stomach sank. She knew exactly who would delight in such a trick. The same person who had carved rude words into Mayor Downer’s lawn and set Ben’s shed on fire.

“What can I do for you?” said Mr. Hardin.

Fin pulled together a smile for him. “I . . . I came back, since I couldn’t do deliveries on Tuesday. I called, remember?”

“Oh, right,” said Mr. Hardin, tucking his handkerchief into a pocket. “Of course.”

She rocked back on her heels, then mustered the courage to ask, “Is there any more news about the fire?”

Mr. Hardin shook his head. “Ben said it was an accident, but Petra’s still been patrolling the town. She’s . . . ah. A bit overzealous when it comes to her work. Sees arson in overturned candles—even if they’re just the electric kind.” He snorted and gestured at the row of camping equipment at the back of the store. Sure enough, there were tiny battery-powered tea lights. “Someone needs to get her a puppy or something.”

“What about the cat that you refuse to name?” asked Fin.

Mr. Hardin chuckled. “Doubt he’d go. I think he’s decided this is the best place to get every passerby to pet him.” He stretched and his back gave a pop. He winced, then strode behind the counter. He reached down and emerged with four deliveries—two medium, one small, and a padded envelope. Then he slid a candy bar atop the pile. Fin blinked, opened her mouth to protest, but Mr. Hardin said, “I added this week’s payment to your mother’s account. But this one’s on me—for being so flexible with the deliveries this week.”

Fin was torn between accepting the candy and refusing it. Years of her mother’s words—“We don’t accept handouts”—still rang in her ears. But she hadn’t had a snack after school.

“Thank you,” she said. It was one of her favorites—dark chocolate studded with dried cherries. Mr. Hardin waved her off, and Fin shoved the candy bar into her pocket, took the packages, and walked back out into the autumn sunshine. She hopped over the cat and then glanced down at the first address. Brewed Awakening. Fin turned to her right and set off down Main Street.

There were two tourists sitting on a bench, a hiking map spread out across their knees. They must have been camping nearby; one of them had twigs in their hair. Another tourist was meandering down the sidewalk, stepping over the protruding tree roots and glancing into shop windows. This was one of the magic seekers; there was a necklace of beads and half-moons draped around their neck and they smelled of incense. Fin gave them a polite nod.

Tourist season was winding down, and while part of Fin was grateful—particularly after hearing Nick’s story of the kidnapped raven—late fall and winter were hard seasons for Aldermere. Without the tourists to keep them bustling, most businesses would keep fewer hours. The tiny bookshop would only open on Saturdays and Sundays. The coffee shop would close down an hour early. Even the Foragers’ Market would shut down. It was the time Mom always looked more pinched around her mouth, when she worried about budgets.

Fin walked to Brewed Awakening, where the screen door was propped open with a potted redwood cutting. The smells of vanilla and coffee greeted Fin as she stepped inside. Mr. Carver was mixing a drink for a teenager. Fin stood in place for a moment, wondering if she should leave the envelope on the counter. Or—

“Hey, Fin.”

Fin glanced over and saw Cedar sitting at a small round table. She gave Fin a smile and waved her over. Glad not to be standing awkwardly by the counter, Fin slid into the seat across from Cedar. “You working on homework?” asked Fin, glancing down at the table. Cedar had several sheafs of paper spread across the table. Fin spotted a few charts and scribbled notes.

“Science fair project,” said Cedar. “I’m testing to see what’s the optimal temperature to brew coffee at.” She grinned. “I’ll have some taste tests at my booth. Two of the judges are big coffee drinkers—I’ve seen them hanging around the shop near school.”

Fin was impressed. “Who’s your partner?”

Cedar shrugged. She was wearing a sleeveless turquoise shirt with ruffles at the edges, and she looked effortlessly stylish in a way Fin never managed. Today, Cedar’s nails were painted a delicate shade of brown. Fin hadn’t even known brown nails were a thing.

“No partner,” said Cedar. “Just me.”

Fin blinked in surprise. She’d assumed—well, Cedar was so cool and nice. She thought Cedar would have had plenty of friends to pick from. But now that she thought about it, Fin could never remember seeing Cedar sitting with many people at lunch. She most often picked a table outside on the sunny days, a book in one hand and a sandwich in the other.

“You could have partnered with me and Eddie,” she said impulsively. “I mean, if you wanted to.”

Cedar smiled down at her papers. “Thanks.” She propped her chin on her hand, leaning on the table. “Is Eddie still obsessed with beating River?”

Fin nodded. “He’s getting a little scary about it.”

“River once crushed a spider in first grade instead of letting Eddie take it out of the classroom,” said Cedar. She shrugged. “After that, they never really got along.”

Sometimes Fin forgot that Eddie and Cedar had known each other longer than Fin had. “Really?”

“I hate spiders, so I was with River on that one,” said Cedar, “but Eddie’s always been good with animals. Even creepy ones.” She glanced down at the pile of packages on the table. “One of those for us?”

“Yes.” Fin fumbled for the top one, setting the padded envelope on the table. “Would you give it to your parents?”

“Sure,” said Cedar. “Why didn’t you drop it off earlier, though?”

Fin’s fingers froze on the envelope. “What?”

Cedar flicked eraser shavings from the table. “When you came in, like twenty minutes ago.”

Fin’s mind whirled.

She hadn’t come to Brewed Awakening before now—which meant someone who looked like her had.

“You okay?” asked Cedar. She frowned at Fin.

“Sorry,” Fin blurted, certain she’d been quiet too long. “I—did I say anything before?”

Cedar’s frown deepened, and for a moment Fin was certain the other girl would demand answers. But Cedar said, “Only that you were going to help your mom.”

Mom.

Fin’s stomach plunged toward her feet.

Fin thought of their conversation a few days ago, of the anger Fin had bitten back and how much she’d just wanted Mom to back off and mind her own business. Could Teafin have overheard some of that? Maybe Fin’s darker self was trying to make Mom go away forever.

Terror rose in Fin’s chest, and she rose with it. “I’ve got to go,” she said jerkily.

Cedar looked concerned. “Is everything okay?”

But Fin had already turned and rushed from the coffee shop, pushing past a customer as she fled through the door.

She jogged down the steps, turning to her right. The inn was only a five-minute walk from Brewed Awakening, and at a run she could be there in half that time. Fin took off at a sprint, her arms pumping as she raced down the broken sidewalk. Fin knew this way well, and she leaped over the largest of the roots and around the jagged edges. She ran along Main Street toward the inn, keeping off the broken sidewalk. Fin didn’t bother to slow as she raced around the single golf cart that inn staff used, nor when a tourist gave Fin a questioning look. Fin only slowed when she reached the front doors.

Her breath came in ragged heaves and her chest hurt. She had to find Mom. She had to make sure Mom was okay, that Teafin wasn’t trying to burn down this place as well.

“Hey, Fin.” Ben looked up from his place behind the front counter. “How’s it—” He cut off when he saw how hard she was breathing. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Fin wheezed. She tried to steady herself, so that she wouldn’t look as though she’d sprinted through town. She tried to put him at ease with a smile. “Just—finishing up deliveries. How’s your day?”

The tight line of Ben’s shoulders relaxed. “Fine. Slow with all the tourists leaving.”

“Have—have you seen my mom?” asked Fin.

Ben reached down to straighten a stack of promotional postcards. “Um. I think she’s in her office? We had a cleaner call in sick today, though, so she may be helping with that.”

Fin nodded in silent thanks. There was no way to ask him if she’d already come this way, not without tipping him off. So she straightened her shoulders, tried to calm her breathing, and strode from the lobby. She walked past the employees-only sign and around toward the kitchen. She could hear Mr. Madeira working on dinner, his familiar rumble of a voice emanating from the swinging doors.

Fin hurried down to the end of the hallway, where there was only a storage closet and her mom’s office door. Fin nearly pulled it open, but she realized how weird that would look, her barging in. So she raised one shaking hand and knocked.

She waited.

Only silence.

Fin reached for the doorknob and turned it. The office was empty.

Fin’s foot rose as she began to step inside.

“Wait!” someone cried behind her, but Fin was putting her foot down. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Cedar, of all people, rushing toward her.

Fin finished stepping through the doorway, and then—

Then she wasn’t in the office at all.

She was somewhere dark and cold and she could not see a thing. She reached out, trying to find something, anything, but her fingers only alighted on damp wood. It smelled like timber and greenery, and for one moment she wondered wildly if she’d managed to screw up the town’s magic so badly that she’d warped reality itself.

Then there was a stumble and a crash. Fin whirled, and she hit a wall without realizing it was there. Her hand came up as she tried to steady herself.

“Fin?” said a voice in the dark.

“Cedar?” asked Fin, disbelieving. “Is that you?”

“It’s me.” There was a clatter of noise, like something falling, and then Cedar said, “Didn’t you see the nameplate?”

“The nameplate?” Fin repeated.

“It had fallen off your mom’s office door,” said Cedar. “It was lying on the floor. I tried to warn you, but you’d already stepped through.”

Relief flooded Fin. It wasn’t her fault at all—rather, it was the normal weirdness of Aldermere. The door had been unlabeled. So stepping through hadn’t brought her to Mom’s office. It had brought her . . . somewhere else.

“Where are we?” asked Fin. Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the dark, and she saw thin slats of light, pale illumination beginning to seep through her vision. It didn’t look like a closet or a basement. And it smelled like they were outdoors.

“I think we’re in an old water tower,” said Cedar.

“A water tower?” Fin repeated, her stomach giving an uncomfortable flutter. She glanced down, imagining how far up they were.

“Yeah.” Cedar seemed to be searching for something, moving around in the darkness. “I once went up to one on a dare. I was supposed to stay up there until someone came to get me, but no one ever came. Finally went home when I realized. Ah—there we go.” There was a whisper of noise, and then sunlight made Fin blink hard. Cedar had found the curtains on a window and pulled them open. Sure enough, they stood in a small, circular room.

It looked a little like a camping cabin. There was a cot in the corner, an old-fashioned lantern, and a shelf.

“I think someone lives here,” said Fin.

Cedar nodded. “Yeah, I think there are only two or three towers that people still use for water these days.” She peered outside. “We’re on the edge of town.” She gestured for Fin to approach the door. “Come on, let’s climb down.”

Fin bit her lip, took a breath, and stepped forward. There was a ledge, and Fin took careful hold of the railing before she looked down. They were at least fifty feet off the ground. Fin forced herself to look up; they were surrounded by the boughs of trees. She tried to keep her attention focused on the forest rather than on how high up they were.

Cedar went first, walking to the ladder and climbing down with surprising ease. Fin took one rung at a time, only moving to another when she was sure her grip and feet were steady. It took an excruciatingly long time and she kept expecting Cedar to tell her to hurry up. It was what Eddie would have said.

But Cedar never said a word. She merely stood by the ladder, gazing curiously about the forest. Fin jumped the last two rungs, landing heavily on both feet. For a moment, it was all she could do not to drop to her knees and hug the ground. Then the relief passed and realization settled.

“The nameplate was missing,” she murmured.

Cedar looked at her. “Yeah, it was.”

For those who lived in Aldermere, it was second nature to check doors before going through them. “I was distracted,” replied Fin. She began to walk away from the water tower, trying to get her bearings. If Cedar was right, they’d ended up on the northern end of town, where an old logging road trailed into the woods. If they went farther north, they’d be near the old toll bridge.

“Why were you even there?” asked Fin. Suspicion took hold of her and she looked sharply at Cedar. “Were you following me?”

Cedar fell into step beside her. “Yes,” she said, with some dignity, “because you left the rest of your packages at Brewed Awakening. I put them behind the counter, so I thought you might want to come get them.”

“Oh.” Fin flushed. She hadn’t even considered the rest of her deliveries.

“And,” continued Cedar, “you looked . . . well, kind of freaked out. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m f—”

“And to ask who the girl was,” said Cedar.

Fin’s footsteps slowed. “What girl?”

“The girl who looked like you,” said Cedar. “But wasn’t.”

Fin stopped dead in her tracks.

They stood there, in the silence of the forest, for a few heartbeats. Fin couldn’t think of anything else to say but, “How’d . . . ?”

“How’d I know?” asked Cedar. “Because you just confirmed it.”

Fin gaped at her.

Cedar said, “I watch a lot of people at the coffee shop. I know that Mr. Madeira always orders chamomile tea for himself on days when the kitchen at the inn is stressful. I know your mom drinks the free coffee from the inn except on paydays, when she comes in for one of our lattes. I know Mrs. Brackenbury’s son hasn’t been calling her as much because she comes into the shop to talk when she’s lonely. And I know that Finley Barnes doesn’t wear sunglasses or entirely black outfits, because that might draw attention. Also because when I mentioned that you’d been in the coffee shop earlier, you looked like I’d poured ice down your shirt. Which means it wasn’t you.” Cedar fixed Fin with a look. “Am I wrong?”

It was the most Fin had ever heard Cedar say.

And none of it was wrong.

“My evil doppelgänger drinks coffee?” Fin said, then groaned. “Of course she does. Because of course she would be a stereotype.”

Cedar let out a startled laugh. “You have an evil doppelgänger?”

“It’s a long story,” Fin said.

“Tell me,” said Cedar.

So Fin did. She’d expected it to be difficult, but it felt good to get everything out. She walked slowly as she spoke, laying out everything that had happened since she’d overheard Aunt Myrtle talking about bringing Fin to a counselor: stealing the tea, brewing it herself, Teafin rising out of the sink, the break-in at Mr. Madeira’s, Teafin stealing what tea she could find at Talia’s, the injured raven, the burning shed, the pranks, and now the fact that Teafin was running around town in black clothes and sunglasses.

“To hide the fact she’s got tea balls for eyes,” said Cedar. She didn’t sound disbelieving; she sounded amazed. “That’s . . . well.”

“Terrifying?” said Fin.

“Kind of awesome,” said Cedar. “I’ve never had a sister. I wonder if this would be anything like that.”

“Teafin isn’t a sister,” protested Fin. “She’s a monster. And when I heard she went to the inn . . .” Her words trailed off as a new, horrible thought occurred to her.

“What?” asked Cedar, seeing Fin’s expression.

Fin said slowly, “That nameplate shouldn’t have come off. It was nailed to Mom’s office door.”

She remembered Mom installing it herself. Her mother had been so proud to be promoted, and the two of them had eaten cupcakes in that new office, a blanket spread out across the floor like at a picnic.

“The only way it would have come off was if someone had pried it off,” said Fin. She half expected Cedar to scoff, but the other girl nodded.

“It looked like that, yeah,” Cedar said. “There were splinters of wood and the nails still attached. I thought maybe—construction or something?”

“Teafin ripped it off,” said Fin. “I know she did. Maybe she was trying to get rid of Mom. Or . . . or delay me.”

Her steps quickened. Cedar fell behind for a few paces and then caught up. “You honestly don’t think she’d hurt your mom, do you?”

“She hurt a raven,” Fin said. “She nearly burned down Ben’s shed, and who knows what she could have done to Mr. Madeira if he’d caught her while she was carrying a box of whintossers.”

Cedar chewed on her lower lip. “She didn’t seem—well, when she talked to me, she didn’t seem evil.”

“I’m not sure how one can evilly say, ‘One twelve-ounce coffee.’”

“She ordered a mocha, for the record,” said Cedar.

“Not the point,” said Fin. Then she blinked. “What’s the difference?”

“Mochas have chocolate,” said Cedar.

“What did she even pay with? Tea leaves?”

“She had money,” said Cedar. “I wonder where she got it.”

“Probably out of Talia’s register.”

They hurried together through the trees, around the back of a house, past a pile of drying wood and a tiny garden. A few pumpkins were visible, curling vines draped over a low fence. Fin didn’t dare run; there wasn’t a real path. The northern edge of town was more unkempt than the rest—the undergrowth left to tangle and no paths for hikers. Many of these cabins were owned or rented out to those who couldn’t afford a house in town.

She needed to find Mom. After all, if that water tower had been in use, Fin would have found herself underwater, unable to find a way out.

A shudder tore through her.

“Who else knows about this?” asked Cedar. She had slightly longer legs than Fin and she kept up easily.

“No one,” said Fin shortly. “Just you and Eddie.”

Cedar looked surprised and a little pleased by this. “What about your aunt? I know she’s lived in Aldermere forever—she’d know what to do.”

Fin shook her head. “Aunt Myrtle . . . I love her, but . . .” She trailed off, unsure how to continue. Affection and resentment were a tangle in Fin’s chest. “I can’t,” she said.

Cedar let it go, which Fin was grateful for.

Together, they half jogged up Main Street, back toward the inn. “Come on,” said Fin, darting to the left. “There’s a side door. If Ben sees me come into the inn twice—”

“Or three times, if he saw your double,” Cedar put in.

“Exactly,” said Fin. “He’s already suspicious—I don’t want to give him more to think about. And—and we’ve been calling her Teafin.”

“Teafin,” said Cedar with a small laugh. “Well, that’s one thing to call her. Evilfin was too much of a mouthful?”

Fin didn’t reply; she had reached the service entrance on the far left side of the inn. This was where Mr. Madeira took shipments for the kitchen, and at this time, no one would be here. Fin pulled the door open and gestured Cedar inside.

They moved silently down the hallway, Fin leading the way. It was strange to have Cedar with her, instead of Eddie, but not bad. Just—different.

The kitchen was as busy as ever; the sound of knives and clattering dishes made Fin glance down the corridor before walking toward Mom’s office. The door was still ajar, the nameplate on the floor.

“Should we fix it?” asked Cedar quietly. “In case anyone else tries to get through?”

Fin considered. “Not enough time,” she whispered. “Besides, what would we put it up with?”

Cedar reached into her pocket and came up with a bit of string. “We could tie it to the knob?”

“Later.” Fin’s worries were focused on Mom. The fallen nameplate could wait.

They glanced into the custodial closet, into the staff lounge, and finally, into the dining room. Fin’s shoulders were tense with worry; what if Mom had already gone through the door and been transported someplace else in Aldermere? What if she was trapped?

“We should tell someone,” said Cedar. “Not about Teafin—just about the door not having a label. If people know to be on the lookout, we’ll find your mom.”

She was about to agree with Cedar, but then she heard a familiar sharp voice.

“—break. Found the phones ringing and—”

“That’s Mom,” said Fin, her stomach lurching with relief. She turned away from the dining room and hurried toward the front desk.

Sure enough, Mom stood by the main counter, her arms crossed and mouth tight at the edges. Standing in front of her, looking thoroughly scolded, was Ben.

“Can’t walk away whenever you feel like it,” said Mom. “I found two people trying to call. If they’d been trying to make a reservation—”

“I’m sorry.” Ben winced. “I saw—I mean, I thought I saw . . .” His gaze snapped over to Fin and his expression sharpened. “Your daughter.”

“Fin?” Mom turned and saw her, a flicker of concern in her eyes. Abruptly, Fin’s relief at finding Mom all right collapsed into nerves. Her stomach gave a lurch when Mom looked at her like that—as if she was searching for something wrong with Fin. That hurt—more than finding herself in an abandoned water tower, more than Teafin seizing hold of her wrist.

“Fin,” said Mom. “Hey—did you stop by to see me?”

Fin searched for an explanation. “I—I—”

“My parents need tape,” said Cedar, stepping forward. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Barnes, but Fin was doing her deliveries when Brewed Awakening ran out of receipt tape. She said you might have some extra. My parents ordered more, but you know how long it takes packages to get here.”

Some of the tension went out of Mom’s posture.

“Fin said the inn might let us borrow a roll?” said Cedar, making the statement into a question.

“Of course.” Mom walked around to the back of the counter and knelt, then reappeared with a roll of receipt paper. “Will one be enough?”

“Yes,” said Cedar with a convincing amount of gratefulness. “Thanks, my parents will be really happy and I promise as soon as we get ours, I’ll bring a roll back.”

“You can send it over with Fin.” Mom smiled at Cedar as she handed over the roll. “It’s no problem.”

It was such a good excuse that Fin threw Cedar a grateful look. Cedar understood; her smile quirked upward at one corner.

“We stopped by your office, Mom,” Fin said. “Your nameplate—it’s off the door.”

“Is it?” Mom rubbed at her forehead, as if it pained her. “Just another thing to fix. Thanks, hon.” She reached out, hand hovering over Fin’s shoulder, before it dropped away.

There was a wall of unspoken things between them, and Fin didn’t know how to climb over it. So she stepped back, gave Mom a tight smile, and said, “I’ve got to finish my deliveries. I, uh, left my packages back at the coffee shop. Will you be home for dinner?”

“Not tonight,” said Mom. “Aunt Myrtle said she was making vegan pizza, and you’re welcome to come. Or there are leftovers in the fridge.”

Fin nodded wordlessly and walked to the front doors, Cedar at her side. They had done it—found Mom, made sure she was safe—and all without alerting anyone to Teafin’s presence.

The tension was finally leaving Fin’s shoulders when something dark flashed in the corner of her eye. Fin’s head jerked to one side.

Her footsteps faltered.

Standing between two parked cars was a girl dressed all in black. Her sunglasses were pushed back across her hair, and her crooked eyebrows were tilted in a smile.

Teafin lifted a hand, her index finger curving as if to beckon Fin forward.

Fin blinked—

And Teafin vanished between one moment and the next.