A Breath of Frost (28 page)

“I wonder where the library is,” Gretchen said.

“I wonder if there are any handsome young men willing to dance a waltz?” Penelope added hopefully.

“I wonder if we can hide under the tablecloth,” Emma put in.

Their hiding spot was slowly but surely encroached upon, until they stood with their backs against the turquoise silk-papered walls, surrounded by curious guests. Gretchen snarled and Penelope smiled at all of the young men. Emma held up her painted fan to cover as much of her face as possible. It helped her feel less exposed. As the questions grew more numerous and less polite, Gretchen eased along the wall, shoving Emma gently, who in turn had to press against Penelope or risk toppling over. Daphne was pouting on the edge of the crowd, narrowing her eyes as the young men abandoned her and her friends to catch a glimpse of the daughters of the Lovegrove sisters.

“Tell me,” an elderly duchess asked Penelope, “will your mother be making an appearance?”

“No, I’m afraid not, Your Grace.”

The duchess sniffed. Penelope’s smile slipped, turning slightly feral at the edges. By the time the duchess turned to Emma, there were silvery spiders crawling up Penelope’s dress. She squeaked when she saw them, smacking at herself with her fan.

“They’re not real,” Emma reminded her gently.

“They’re still spiders.”

It took another three quarters of an hour before Gretchen found an opportunity to save them all. “Quickly!” She shoved her cousins through the French doors and into the gardens.

“Why did you do that?” Penelope asked, stumbling against the stone balustrade. “I was finally talking to someone I was hoping would ask me to dance. He looked sturdy.”

Gretchen rolled her eyes. “You don’t need a sturdy dance partner,” she said. “You need one with a brain in his head.”

They went down the steps, crossing into the formal gardens. The stone paths wound around yew hedges whose shapes changed from swans to unicorns. “Illusion charm,” Gretchen said, touching her ear with a wince. “Though it would work better with fewer poppy petals in it.”

“Is your head hurting?” Emma asked, concerned.

“Not hurting, exactly. But there’s a strange buzz when I’m around magic that isn’t quite right. It stops when the magic clicks together properly like a puzzle. Apparently as a Whisperer, I can create new spells and fix old ones so they work better.”

“Like a doctor of magic?” Penelope asked.

“I suppose.” She wrinkled her nose. “According to Mrs. Sparrow it’s very rare.”

“Does she shout ‘Control!’ at you until you go cross-eyed?”
Emma asked sympathetically. “I swear she starts and ends every sentence she says to me with that caution.”

“She’d make a decent general in the army,” Gretchen agreed. “I vow, we haven’t had a moment to ourselves since we were tossed into the academy. Have you burned at the stake lately, Penelope?”

“Happily, no. But I don’t take off my gloves anymore if I can help it. I accidentally brushed against the edge of a painting in the gold parlor at Rowanstone and I was suddenly a footman with blisters on his heels and a bad belly from Stilton cheese.” She sighed. “I was hoping to see something more romantic.”

“Have you heard from your father, Emma?” Gretchen asked.

She shook her head. “No.”

“Blighter.”

She choked out a laugh. “I don’t think you’re allowed to call earls names.”

“Bah. Godric will be earl one day and I fully intend to keep calling him names. Especially now.” She lowered her voice, sounding worried. “He’s drinking rather a lot.”

“He’s seventeen and home from Eton,” Penelope pointed out. “It’s expected.”

“Even so.” She worried at her lower lip. “It’s different. He’s not as cheerful and you know Godric, he’s always cheerful, even when
Maman
is flitting about him. This ghost thing has him discombobulated.” She absentmindedly tugged on one of the hedges. A green leafy swan nipped at her fingers. She pulled back sharply. “Ow, that’s rude. Even for a magic bird.”

“I’m sure he’ll get used to it,” Emma said. “After all, I’m
getting used to the antlers.” She froze, groaning. “Daphne’s on her way over here. That can’t be good.”

“Into the hedges!” Gretchen exclaimed.

“No use, she’s just spotted us.”

“At least she looks like a cat on bath day,” Gretchen added smugly. “She can’t stand sharing the attention of all those people.”

“She can have it,” Emma snorted.

“There you are,” Daphne announced. Sophie and Lilybeth trailed behind her. “Everyone’s talking about you. I supposed no one’s asked you to dance though.”

“Nor you,” Penelope pointed out, nettled because it was the truth. “Or else you wouldn’t be out here bothering us, would you?” Sophie, safely behind Daphne, hid a smile.

“We’ve decided it’s time you proved yourselves to us,” Daphne said.

Emma rolled her eyes. “As if we care about that.”

“All the Rowanstone girls have to prove themselves,” Lilybeth said, sounding shocked that the cousins weren’t leaping to do their bidding. “I had to eat spelled iced cakes and they gave me feathers instead of hair for an entire week! And Sophie had to sneak down into the apothecary pantries to steal the rose-petal candies for Jane.”

“And now it’s your turn,” Daphne declared with a brittle smile. “Unless you’re too scared.”

“Scared is it?” Gretchen snapped, instantly defensive. Emma and Penelope exchanged glances.

“If you’re not scared, then you’ll sneak out right now and
visit the House.” When they didn’t react, Daphne sighed. “The Greymalkin House. Really, where did you three even grow up?”

“You want us to leave the ball altogether?” Penelope said blandly. “How surprising.”

“The house is near the Park. Turn left, then right. It won’t take you long. Simply pick a flower from the other side of the gate.”

“After which you send Keepers to chase us down?” Emma asked. “No, thank you.”

“We’ll tell them you’re in the ladies parlor, fixing Penelope’s hem,” Sophie assured them, looking uncomfortable. Emma really couldn’t figure out why she’d chosen Daphne and Lilybeth as friends. She seemed far too amiable for their schemes. “This isn’t about getting you into trouble, truly. It’s tradition, that’s all.”

“It’s tradition that Daphne is put out because no one is paying her any attention.” Penelope rolled her eyes.

Daphne tossed a curl over her shoulder. Her emerald earrings glittered. “I told you they wouldn’t have the courage.”

“Is that so?” Gretchen asked tightly. She nodded once, with military precision. “Right. Let’s go.” And then she vanished through the shrubbery, slapping at the mercurial hedges as she went.

“Oh honestly,” Emma muttered as she and Penelope followed her. “I wish, just for once, she could let a dare pass her by.”

It was strange
to be walking out at night, even in Mayfair. Girls were only allowed to shop, or walk in Hyde Park, during the day and always while trailing footmen or maids. Even distrusting Daphne’s motives, there was something freeing about the feel of the wind on Emma’s arms and the sturdy pavement under her shoes. The gas lamps flickered above, half shrouded in the thick clinging London mist.

“Where do we turn right, do you think?” Emma wondered. The lanes between the houses were private mews for stabling horses and the first street led to a cul-de-sac. They kept walking.

“I think we’ve arrived,” Penelope finally said, sounding strangled. She stopped to stare down the street. “What’s that?” She shivered. Emma and Gretchen also stopped to stare.

The house was faded, with peeling gray paint and a broken
shutter that stuttered loudly against the wall. A black iron gate heavily decorated with scrollwork and a magpie design in the center enclosed the wilted garden. Even the shadows were gray, clinging like mold to every surface. “Why haven’t we ever noticed that house before?” she wondered. “It’s positively dismal.”

They waited for a lone carriage to pass before stepping off the curb to cross the street. This had been the fashionable neighborhood before Mayfair. The houses had a certain faded elegance, still beautiful in a way the Greymalkin House wasn’t. It had been lovely once, when it was full of warlocks, but now only the bones remained along with the taint of neglected spells. Wilted and scrubby plants pushed through the fence.

“Let’s get it over with then,” Emma said, reaching for a vine of green leaves with curling tendrils and red berries. It was covered in a fine layer of dust or mold, she couldn’t be sure. She was just glad she was wearing gloves, even if they would be ruined. She’d barely brushed against it when some kind of dark energy traveled through the fence. She could have sworn that a ghostly hand clamped around her wrist. It seared through her, bruising and burning through her gloves.

It wouldn’t let her go.

It pulled until she was slammed painfully against the iron scrollwork.

“Something’s got me!” Emma squawked. Gretchen and Penelope tried to drag her away. The push and pull made her bones hurt. She felt some insidious magic traveling up her arms, weakening her. Her visions went gray.

Gretchen and Penelope gave such a mighty pull, she was ripped away. It was exactly like an arrow being pulled out of her, sharp and scorching in its agony. The momentum flung her back and she stumbled off the sidewalk onto the uneven cobblestones. A carriage bore down on her, horses whinnying shrilly. The coachman yelled. But even with such brief contact, the magic of the house had sapped her. She couldn’t seem to react quickly enough. Gretchen was sprinting toward her, looking terrified.

Someone yanked her out of the way.

Cormac glowered down at her, his dark hair falling over one eye. One very infuriated eye.

“Thank you,” Emma said as the last of the draining magic faded. She shivered, feeling ill.

“Are you crazy?” he demanded. “It’s not safe out here. Shouldn’t you be at the academy?”

“We were at a nearby betrothal ball actually,” she replied as Gretchen and Penelope swarmed around her. “What are you doing here?”

“Patroling for the Order,” Cormac replied.

Gretchen frowned, half stepping in front of Emma. “You’re not hauling her off again. Even if you did just save her life.” Her familiar walked out of her body, a massive wolfhound with fur like hoarfrost and teeth like icicles. It growled.

Cormac only shook his head, disgusted. “Did no one tell you?”

“Tell us what?” she asked.

“The Greymalkin Sisters are roaming London and there are
still too many unmarked gates to the Underworld unleashing all manner of undead creatures.”

“If it’s so dangerous why wouldn’t they say so?” Though now she wondered if the armed outriders on that carriage had less to do with Daphne’s father’s station and more to do with all the magic apparently whipping around London.

“They probably didn’t want to worry you, seeing as the first victim was a debutante.”

“Daphne didn’t seem too worried when she dared us to come out here,” Gretchen pointed out.

Cormac shook his head. “Are students still daring each other to come here? I was egged on to scale the gate when I was fifteen.”

“What happened?” Emma asked.

“Virgil Clarkson broke my True Sight charm as I was climbing it. I couldn’t see the gate anymore and I got disoriented and fell and cracked my head. He probably saved my life, in the end. Witches have died trying to break the wards.” He ran a hand over his face. “You were bloody lucky all you got was a shove.”

Penelope was still staring at the house. “I still don’t understand how we never saw it before.”

“It’s cloaked and shielded under several layers of strong magic. Both inside and outside,” Cormac replied. “Regular people only see a patch of weedy lawn or a house they don’t care to approach. I’d forgotten you’d have been like them all this time.” He cast the house a wary glance, searching for danger. “No one can get any closer than those gates.”

“I don’t think I’d
want
to get any closer.”

“And the Greymalkin just live here in the open?” Emma asked, stunned. “And no one’s done anything about it?”

“Of course they have. The house was abandoned some years back when the last known Greymalkin lived in London. The Order tried everything they could to get inside, or at least bring it down. Fires won’t catch. Someone tried a cannon once but that only took out two carriages on the road. The house wards are too strong, even now.”

“Wouldn’t the Sisters use the house?”

“There are Keepers on watch, of course, but they haven’t been spotted here.” He shrugged. “Regardless, we’ve been at a standstill for decades. The wards prevent Keepers from getting in to dismantle the place, but because of the Order’s own wards, the Sisters can’t either. It’s mostly just left to rot now.”

The sky broke in half with a clap of thunder. Emma paused. “That wasn’t me.”

“No, it’s fireworks,” Gretchen said, looking down the street. The sky over the Callendish house was full of colors. Vibrant purples and reds and a silvery white streaked across the stars. The fog parted, going pink at the edges.

“I’ve never seen fireworks like those,” Penelope breathed, as the sparks formed into the shape of two doves, chasing each other over the rooftops. “Even after the victory at Trafalgar.”