The Charmed Children of Rookskill Castle (22 page)

Talisman

T
HE LADY FEELS
irritated. She paces, gears grinding.

The wolves hadn't worked, so her rooks have told her. She had wanted to lure the three children out to the moors, make them fearful, separate them, make this last bit go easy. But the girl carries a talisman, something that sheds a brilliant light, though it's so bright the rooks cannot make out what it is.

She knows now that this is the magic she's been sensing. She can feel it, back in the castle, with the girl. It's powerful enough magic that Eleanor must proceed with caution, take the girl Katherine last and alone.

Eleanor smiles. That will be a pleasure.

Gregor, Lord Craig

T
HEY SLEPT
f
ITFULLY,
but there were no nightmares, no nighttime visitors, and the fire never died, since one of them was up at all hours to make certain it was fed.

When they woke it was already light. Marie was nowhere to be found. Kat changed into her own clothes—no need for uniforms—and splashed water on her face, and then the three ventured down through the dark, silent castle.

The dining room was just as it had been the night before, and there was still no sign of Cook, or anyone else. They picked at whatever remained of the food, cold and stale as it was.

“MacLarren and Gumble might be trapped again, caught by some spell,” Kat said. “They wouldn't just leave us.”

Peter and Rob still had their swords. The two boys with
their weapons and grim faces looked more and more like they belonged in this old place.
Rob got his wish,
Kat thought.
They are
knights in training.
She couldn't help noticing how much older both Rob and Peter looked.

“You do realize that it's All Hallows' Eve?” Rob asked.

“Perfect,” murmured Peter. “Just the day for a haunting.”

Kat shivered. She wished she still didn't believe in ghosts and dark magic; it would be easier to be brave.

They started their search in the attics. They weren't the kind of attics Kat remembered from Great-Aunt Margaret's house, with decaying storage and rotten furniture and trunks of old linens and papers; here were a series of little attic apartments with tiny windows. Kat assumed they'd served as servants' quarters back when the castle could afford such a thing. The rooms were all unlocked.

Their own floor was next, and they entered all the rooms they could; Jorry's room was locked. In Isabelle's room, the last they searched, they looked for a hidden passage. After all, whatever or whoever had stolen Isabelle had likely stolen Amelie, too, and now they all knew something about hidden passages.

They pushed and pulled on every corner. Peter even crawled under the bed. It wasn't until Kat lifted a tapestry and shoved her shoulder against the wall that they found it: a very well-hidden door.

“Do we go down?” Peter said, his voice low.

The wall opened into a chilly, dark passage. Stairs wound down, tight against the wall. They couldn't see beyond a few feet.

“I have my chatelaine,” Kat said. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, holding the glowing blue chatelaine high.

But once again, Rob stopped her. “You hold the chatelaine so I can see,” he said. “I've got the sword. I'll go first.”

“Or I could,” said Peter, holding up his own blade. Kat had to smile. Rob let Peter go first this time.

It was a small passage, and curving. Kat had to turn sideways once or twice to get by. Again she counted the steps. Rob wisely wedged the door so it couldn't close behind them.

“I think we've reached the next floor,” Kat whispered.

They knew what to do now—each of them pressed against the nearest wall.

Peter found the door. He pushed it open an inch and then signaled the all clear, and they found themselves looking into the second floor hallway, by the main stairwell. In the dim light they could see that the hall was empty.

They exchanged uncomfortable glances. This was where the Lady had her rooms. Kat didn't fancy running into her.

“We have to search, or we'll never know,” said Peter.

“Who would build such a place, with all these secret passageways and hidden doors?” asked Kat.

“They weren't uncommon in medieval castles,” Rob whispered. “I wasn't surprised to see them in the keep. They were
good hiding places during a siege. But someone must have really liked having them to build them in the new castle, too.”

“Yeah, and this castle is . . . well, it's almost like it's
alive
or something,” said Peter.

Kat shivered.

They tiptoed to the far end of the winding corridor, stopping at the last door. Kat put her ear against it, but all she could hear was the pelting rain against the window, barely drowning out the thumping of her heart.

She shrugged to let the boys know she couldn't tell anything. She tried the latch. It gave.

The room was large—twice as large as any of the other bedrooms they'd seen so far—but the air was close and musty, and the light was low, gray from the gray weather outside. The windows, slick with rain and sleet, looked out toward the sea, just as Kat's did. To their left was an enormous bed with four great corner posts and a canopy hung at the head with red velvet drapes. The bed was rumpled. They froze, fearing someone was about.

But it was silent as a tomb, and after a minute or so Kat decided that it was merely an unmade bed. After all, there was only Marie to do all the housework. And she wasn't anywhere to be found today.

They moved farther into the room, Peter going left and Rob to the right. Kat made for the bed itself.

Just as she reached it, the coverlet moved, and her hand flew to her mouth. She'd learned not to shriek, but she couldn't help saying it aloud, gasping.

“It's . . . the ghost!”

Lying against the pillows was the pale and wan face they'd seen in the keep.

The blood roared in Kat's ears as her heart pounded, but she could still hear the man when he spoke. In weak tones but with a thick Scottish brogue, he said, “Ghost, is it? Well, lassie, I'm not m'self, that's sure, but I'm no' dead yet.”

“I'm Gregor Duncaster, Earl of Craig,” he said. He was thin, and Kat couldn't tell how old, and his face had a deathly pallor, but he was able to pull himself up against the pillows and assume a lordly manner, even as his voice quavered. “And you are?”

“I'm Katherine Bateson, my lord, and this is my brother Rob and our friend Peter Williams.” Kat made as grand a curtsey as she could manage, since it seemed only fitting, especially after she'd called him a ghost. And since this was his castle, and he was a lord, after all.

“Well, Katherine Bateson, I don't know what you three are doing in my bedchamber nor in my home, nor do I understand why the two young masters with you are bearing swords
that look uncanny like my own arms.” He stopped and took a breath. “But you all are right welcome nonetheless.”

No doubt about it, the Earl might be ill and wobbly and short of breath, but his mind was sharp. Both Peter and Rob held their swords down and shuffled in embarrassment.

“Now what are you lads and lass about?” he asked. “And why are you in my chamber?”

“We're looking for the others,” Rob piped up.

“The other whats?” Lord Craig asked.

“The other children, and the teachers,” Kat answered. She saw his puzzled expression. “You do know, don't you?” She wondered if perhaps he'd been too ill to be informed, so she said, “We're here taking refuge from the Blitz. From London. The Lady, um, her Ladyship, she's running an academy for us refugees.” She paused. “An academy of sorts.”

“Is she now?” And his eyebrows shot up. “Blitz? Don't know that word. From London? Teachers? Refugees?” He shook his head. “The Lady Eleanor, is it? Not the type to look after those in need.”

Kat wondered whether she should tell him that the Lady Eleanor was harboring a German spy.

“We were told you were terribly ill,” Peter said.

“Were you now?” He shifted. “Well, that's true enough. Until quite recently, I was a bit under the weather. Things are looking up, with Deirdre on the case,” he added, pronouncing
the name
Deer-dree
and leaning back into his pillows. “She's been wondrous good.”

Kat exchanged a look with Peter. She imagined he had no more clue how this sick man would have made his way out to the keep than she did—if Lord Craig was indeed the person they'd seen there, the ghost.

“Sir, have you been wandering in other parts of the castle recently?” Peter asked.

“It's a confusion,” Lord Craig said. “At one point I went out to the old keep. Felt like I was called there for something. Felt like a bad dream. It wasn't an easy thing to get there and back again.” He sighed. “I wore myself right out.”

“Well, that's a relief,” Peter whispered to Kat. “Not a ghost.”

No,
thought Kat. But maybe Lord Craig was magicked to the keep to scare the devil out of the children.

Lord Craig said, “Now what are these bairns, these children, you're looking for?”

“The other children who've gone missing,” Kat said. “And the ones we've seen from time to time but can't find again.”

“This must be what Deirdre meant,” he said to himself. “I didn't know what the blazes she was on about. But now I see. There's evil afoot.”

“Please, if you have any idea—” Kat began.

He lifted his hand. “The only idea I have is that her Ladyship is not what you think. And those bairns, I fear . . .” He broke off.

Silence filled the room.

“Who's Deirdre?” asked Rob.

Lord Craig's eyes grew bright. “She's the only reason I'm alive.”

Something in his expression niggled at Kat, had begun niggling at her the minute she saw him, and now it came clear and sharp. “Why, you and Mr. Storm!” Kat said. “At least, you and the new Mr. Storm. You're nearly identical.”

“Mr. Storm?” said Lord Craig. “Whatever are you on about?”

Peter and Kat exchanged a confused glance. “It's just that you look so much like someone else, or someone else has begun to look a lot like you,” she said, musing.

“Puzzles within puzzles,” Lord Craig muttered as he leaned back and closed his eyes.

They waited. Silence. For a minute they assumed he'd gone to sleep, and then Kat fretted that they'd startled him so badly that he'd died of sudden heart palpitations, but without warning his eyes flew open again, and he said, “One of you must fetch Deirdre. She'll know what to do.”

Robbie cleared his throat. “Please, sir. We don't know a Deirdre.”

“Of course you do,” he answered. “Surely if you've eaten anything in Rookskill Castle you've eaten her good food. Her food is right magic, that's what.”

“Cook! Miss Brodbeem,” Kat said, getting his meaning. Then she faltered. “But she's not here. We couldn't find her. We
haven't seen her since before we lost my sister. And please, we have to find Amelie.”

Lord Craig waved his hand weakly and shut his eyes again. “Find Deirdre first.” And this time he definitely lapsed into a deep sleep.

They all exchanged looks.

“What now?” Peter said.

“I think he's right. One of us should go back to the kitchen and try to find Cook,” Kat said.

“I have a better idea,” said Rob. “Two of us go to find Cook and one stays here. That way no one is alone.”

“Brilliant, Rob,” Kat said. “I'll go with you.”

“I'll stay here with Lord Craig,” said Peter. “I'm armed.” He smiled as he lifted the sword.

Kat glanced at the sleeping Lord Craig. “All right. We'll come back straightaway.”

She tucked her hand into her pocket and clutched Great-Aunt Margaret's chatelaine.

Rob and Kat stepped into the hallway. Kat gave Peter a little wave. His return smile was so warm, she felt a glow in her cheeks.

Then she and Rob headed down the great stairs.