The Emerald Atlas (8 page)

As soon as Kate and Emma were out of the library, their heads cleared.

“What happened?” Emma said. “It was like my brain got all mooshy.”

“Me too.”

“You figure he did some magic on us? I said stuff I never told anyone. You think it’s all right?”

Kate could hear the worry in Emma’s voice. She probed her own feelings. She knew the normal reaction to having shared too much of one’s heart. You felt shame and regret and wished you could take it back. But the truth was, she felt as if she had been allowed to put down something she’d been carrying for so long that its weight had become part of her. And climbing up the spiral stairway to Abraham’s tower, she felt oddly light. She was aware of the coldness of the air drafting through the walls. The song of a distant bird. The creak of the stairs beneath her and Emma’s feet. And though the task in front of them was daunting—for she had no real idea how she and her eleven-year-old sister were going to rescue Michael from the witch and her demon soldiers—she felt a hundred times better than she had that morning.

“Yes,” she said. “I think it’s okay.”

“Me too,” Emma said. And Kate saw she was smiling.

They pounded on Abraham’s door for a full two minutes, but again, no one answered.

“He’s really starting to make me angry,” Emma said.

Downstairs, they found Miss Sallow scrubbing the floor of the main hall.

“I’ve sent the old coot to get the Doctor’s Christmas goose. He’ll probably have to go back down to Westport. He’ll be here by nightfall.”

“But we need to talk to him now,” Emma said.

“Oh, do you, Your Highness? Well, perhaps in the future we should arrange our schedules with your personal secretary. But until that blessed day”—she stuck a mop in Emma’s hands and pushed a bucket and brush into Kate’s—“you two can make yourselves useful.”

She hustled them to the large formal dining room, where, she said, Dr. Pym wanted to have Christmas Eve dinner. It was an enormous, wood-paneled room with a long oak table in the center. Above the table hung two wrought-iron candelabras between which spiderwebs were strung like tinsel. There was a stone fireplace so huge Kate and Emma could’ve fit their entire bed inside it. At present, a family of foxes lived there. Two stone dragons held up the mantel, and they, like everything else, were covered with a thick coating of dust and grime.

“Dr. Pym says not to disturb the foxes, but the rest I want clean as Sunday morning at your Paris Louvre.”

“This is stupid,” Emma said when Miss Sallow had left. “We have to help Michael.”

“I know,” Kate said. “But we can’t do anything till we get a picture from Abraham.”

Emma grumbled something unintelligible, but she bent over and started to mop the floor. Kate wet her brush and went to work scrubbing one of the dragons. As they worked, two small foxes watched them from the depths of the fireplace.

When dinnertime rolled around, Abraham still wasn’t back, and Kate and Emma ate alone in the kitchen. They told Miss Sallow they’d bring a plate of food to Michael. Climbing the stairs, they felt none of the lightness that had followed the interview with Dr. Pym. They were bone-tired and desperate with worry.

It was their second night trying to sleep while staring at Michael’s empty bed. The children had never been apart this long. Tomorrow, Kate told herself, tomorrow we’ll get him back.

In the middle of the night, she awoke with a gasp. She realized she hadn’t checked to see if the book was still there. She got out of bed and reached under the mattress. She felt about, her heart tight in her chest. Then her hand touched the leather binding. She pulled the book out slowly.

The moon was up, and a silvery light fell across the bed, giving the book’s emerald cover an otherworldly shimmer. She opened to a page in the middle. It was blank. She ran her fingers over the parchment; the paper was dry and rippled with age. She turned over one stiff, creaking leaf. Blank. Another page; also blank. And another. And another. All blank. Then, just as she was about to close the book, something happened.

Her fingers were resting on the page she had open, and it was as if an image was suddenly projected in her mind. She saw a village on the banks of a river. There was a tower. There were women doing laundry. And the picture wasn’t still. She could see the water moving, the wind rustling the branches of a tree. She thought she heard the far-off clanging of a bell.

“What’re you doing?” Emma groaned.

Kate shut the book. She slid it back under the mattress.

“Nothing,” she said, climbing under the covers. “Go back to sleep.”

CHAPTER SIX
The Black Page

Miss Sallow put them to work first thing the next morning, and between finishing tasks for the housekeeper and avoiding Dr. Pym, it wasn’t until midafternoon that Kate and Emma were sitting beside Abraham’s fire, drinking cider and listening to him gripe about how far he’d had to go to find a goose.

“Not that I’m complaining. I like a fat goose as much as the next man, but sending an old fella like me wandering over half the country on a day cold as yesterday? Cold as the grave it was. As two graves! More cider?”

Abraham’s room in the tower was completely round, with windows facing out in every direction. But the room’s most notable feature, apart from its perfect circularity, was the fact that every available bit of wall was covered with a photograph. And the pictures didn’t stop there. There were piles on the floor, piles stacked under chairs, loose piles sliding off tables. There were hundreds, thousands of photos, all of them yellow and faded with age.

“Used to be,” Abraham said when they’d entered and were gazing about in amazement, “I had a great passion for photography. Perhaps because I was born with this bad leg and couldn’t work the mines. But times change. I haven’t taken a photograph in years.”

He leaned forward, topping off their mugs with cider.

“You’re sure nothing’s amiss? You two seem a bit off. Hope you haven’t caught what your brother has.”

“We’re fine.”

Unspoken between Kate and Emma was the fact that it was Christmas Eve and ten years to the day since their parents had disappeared. As they were getting dressed that morning, Emma had suddenly and without explanation hugged Kate. They’d stood there in the center of their room and held each other for almost a minute, wordlessly.

“So you met the Doctor. ’E’s not from Cambridge Falls, you know. Just showed up one day and bought this old place, oh, more’n ten years ago. Took on me and old Sallow.”

“Abraham …” Kate and Emma had decided to be up front; they needed answers, and the old caretaker was their best, and safest, hope of getting them. “Do you, um, do you remember us? From before. One day beside the lake. Did we just sort of … appear?”

Kate knew if she’d asked this question two days earlier, Abraham would have had no idea what she was talking about. But since then, she and Emma and Michael had gone back in time. The past was different now. That meant Abraham’s memory should also be different. And in fact, even before she’d finished asking the question, the old man was smiling.

“Remember you? Three young ’uns just—pop—appearing out a’ nowhere? A person doesn’t go forgetting a thing like that. When I saw you lot get off the boat day before yesterday, I said to myself, Abraham, old boy, them’s the same that stepped out a’ thin air near fifteen year ago, and look at ’em, not a day older. But I’m glad you finally fessed up; I feared I was getting soft.” Abraham leaned closer. “I take it you’ve pieced it together, then? The truth about Cambridge Falls?”

Kate shook her head. “That’s why we’re here.”

“Oh, you’re having me on! Two children who go skipping about through time, and I’m to believe you’ve not realized the very nature of the place you live?”

“We thought … I mean, we suspected there was something strange.…”

“Strange, oh yes. That’d be putting it mildly.”

“And Dr. Pym … is he …”

“Is he what, miss?”

“Is he a …” Kate couldn’t bring herself to say the word.

Luckily, Emma’s patience had reached its limit. “Is he a wizard?!”

“Shhhhhhh!” Abraham scooched his chair even closer, gesturing them to lower their voices. “Let’s not be announcing it in Westport!” Then he winked, grinning. “But you’ve hit it there. The man’s a wizard, true as life.”

Kate set her cider on the floor. She no longer trusted her hands.

“And how did the two of you find out? Did he do a spell, perhaps?”

“He sort of made a fire appear,” Emma said.

Abraham nodded knowingly. “Yes, a brilliant man, the Doctor, but he couldn’t start a fire to save his own life. Tell me, are you witches, then?” A look of worry crossed his face. “ ’Cause if you are, I’ll just say I’ve never been anything but friendly toward you, and don’t reckon being changed into a goat or growing an extra bottom—”

“We’re not witches,” Kate assured him.

“Yeah,” Emma said. “We always thought magic was just some stupid thing Michael talked about.”

“Is that so?” Abraham rubbed his beard. “You didn’t know magic was real?”

“It’s not unusual,” Kate said. “Most people don’t think magic is real.”

“Not even Michael,” Emma added. “And he’s pretty weird.”

“Then how in heaven’s name did you come—”

“We’ll tell you everything,” Kate said. “But you have to tell us about Cambridge Falls. The truth.”

He looked at them for a long moment, then sighed. “Very well. I suppose the cat’s out of the bag. But I’ll be needing my smoke.” And he took out his pipe, tamped the bowl with his thumb, and lit it with a stick from the fire. “Now, the first thing you must know is that the magic world used to be entwined with our own. Like this.” Abraham threaded his knobby fingers together. “Was that way for thousands a’ years. Till people—normal people, I’m talking about—started spreading out and multiplying, putting up towns and cities. Finally, the magical types saw that humankind was unstoppable. So they began carving out territories and made ’em invisible to human eyes and impossible to enter unless you knew the way. Whole chunks just vanished off the map. This went on a century or more. Then, last day a’ December, 1899, what was left a’ the magical world up and disappeared. Whoosh!”

“But,” Kate interrupted, “that’s not that long ago! People would remember!”

“This is deep magic we’re talking about, girl. People was made to forget. Forget about the missing islands and forests. Forget such a thing as magic ever existed. Whole history of the world was rewritten. Only thing was, here and there a human town got dragged along. Cambridge Falls was one a’ those. Me, Miss Sallow, folks in the village, we’ve lived next door to magic folk all our lives. Even had dealings with them in better times. But we’re as human as you. Not like them you’d find out there.” He gestured with his pipe out the window. “There’s things in them mountains you wouldn’t believe.”

The old man leaned forward.

“Now it’s your turn, my dears. If you’re not witches, how’d you show up that day fifteen years ago?”

The girls glanced at each other. Their fear was if they told him about the book, he might say it belonged to Dr. Pym and make them give it back. And if that happened, how would they ever save Michael?

“We lied,” Emma said. “We are witches. We just wanted to see what you knew. Congratulations. You passed.”

Kate thought that this was a stunningly bad lie, but Abraham was nodding as if he’d suspected something of the sort all along.

Fair enough, she thought.

“Abraham,” Kate said, “we need some old photos. From when … she was here.”

Despite the merry little fire, a chill seemed to settle on the room.

Abraham lowered his voice. “You mean the Countess, do you? And what would you be wanting with her? Dark times those were. Better forgotten.”

“Please, we really need them.”

“And if you don’t give ’em to us, we’ll turn you into a toad.” Emma squinted at Abraham and wiggled a finger. The old man immediately jumped up and scampered to a chest against the wall, whipping it open and beginning to tear through the contents.

Kate looked at Emma reproachfully.

Emma shrugged. “He’s getting them.”

Abraham returned with a thick leather folder stuffed with photographs.

“She made me her official photographer, you know. Vain creature she was. Always going on about how it was my duty to record her beauty for posterity.” He snorted and handed the folder to Kate. “You can have ’em. I’m well rid of the lot.”

Kate glanced inside. There were hundreds of photos. Surely, they could find one that would take them back to whenever or wherever Michael was.

“Abraham, who was the Countess? Is she the reason Cambridge Falls is the way it is?”

Abraham looked like he didn’t want to answer, but Emma narrowed her eyes, and he held up his hands in surrender. “Fine, I’ll tell you what I know. But who she was, where she came from, I’ve truly no idea. She just appeared in Cambridge Falls with fifty a’ them ghouls. Screechers, the children called ’em. I remember one took you three away that day beside the lake, so you know what terrible, cursed creatures they are.” A log hissed and cracked, and Abraham paused to stir the fire with the poker. When he continued, his voice had grown quieter.

“It was summer. Beautiful day. Not a cloud in sight. Most of the men were in the mines. That’s two hours’ walk into the mountains. So it was just the women and children in the village. And me, thanks to this leg of mine.” One hand absently rubbed his bad leg. “I was in my cousin’s house and heard this scream. A sound like nothing I’d ever heard before. Robbed the breath right out a’ me. I ran outside, and one of them monsters was chasing a boy down the street. Picked ’im up and carried ’im off ’fore I could say a word. I followed ’em to the square. Couldn’t believe what I saw. Children everywhere. And them Screechers. They ’ad their swords out and were pushing the mothers back, cutting ’em off from their little ones. And that’s when I saw that golden hair a’ hers, shining there among all them black shapes. She said something, and those monsters drove the children in front of ’em like sheep, down to the gorge and across the bridge. I followed along with the women, who were all wailing and screaming, and …”

Abraham stopped speaking. He was looking at Kate.

“You feeling okay, miss?”

“Your face is all white,” Emma said.

“I—I’m fine,” Kate stammered. “Please go on.”

But she wasn’t fine. She was thinking of the children, how scared they must’ve been, how she had left Michael with those monsters.…

“Please. I’m fine.”

Abraham nodded and took a drink of cider.

“Well, old Mr. Langford was living in the big house then. A tiny thumb of a man, he was. And a right rich little bugger too. His family’d run the mines since forever. And he’s standing there on the front steps when she comes up with them monsters a’ hers and all them crying children. He starts asking what she thinks she’s doing, private property and et cetera and so on and does she know who he is, when she gives this little giggle and Lord if one a’ them creatures didn’t cut Mr. Langford right in half. What a sight. One minute the fella was standing there telling her to clear off. Next minute there was two pieces of him. Course, truth be told, no one much liked Mr. Langford, stuck-up little plug he was, but still, terrible way to go. His mouth was still moving when the top part fell off the bottom.”

Kate and Emma sat completely still, hardly daring to breathe. Abraham stirred the fire again; he was deep in the past. “We’d sent runners to the mines. But it was nightfall before the men were back. We got torches, as many weapons as we could lay our hands on, and crossed the bridge.” Abraham laughed humorlessly. “What were we thinking? We weren’t fighters. And here she was a dark witch with a horde of demon warriors. Utterly hopeless.” Abraham shook his head. “She came down the front steps to meet us. Three of them Screechers with her. But she didn’t have to do no more than hold up her little hand like this”—Abraham raised one palm—“and everyone stopped. She said in that high, sweet voice a’ hers, ‘I have your children inside; there’s a blade at each of their throats. They’ll be dead before you reach the door.’ Oh, the silence was awful. Not a soul moved. I remember the two halves of Mr. Langford’s body still lying there on the steps, and she looking out at us, so beautiful and terrible in the torchlight. Then she told us there was something in the mountains she wanted. Said if we found it for her, she’d give us back our children.”

“What’d you do?” Emma asked breathlessly.

“What do you think we did, child? The men went into the mountains with a gang a’ them monsters to guard ’em. The women went back to the village, and she stayed in the house with the children.”

For a full minute, no one spoke. The only sound was the hissing and crackling of the fire. Kate realized she had been gripping the folder so tightly that her hands had locked in place. She opened them slowly, flexing her fingers.

“And no one ever tried to fight?” Emma asked finally.

“A few did. A man would just get too fed up, missing his wife or little ones, and go crazy.”

“What happened to them?”

“She had a boat. Used it like a floatin’ prison for anyone who disobeyed. At night, you could hear the cries coming across the lake.” Abraham shuddered. “Rumor was she did things to people there. Awful things.”

Kate remembered how, when they’d gone back into the past, she’d seen the large boat floating far out on the lake. That had to be the one he was talking about.

“What was she looking for?”

“She never said exactly. But there was talk.”

“What kind of talk?”

Abraham’s voice had fallen to a whisper. “People said it was a book of some kind. A great book of magic that’d been buried in the mountains long ago. Imagine”—his voice lowered even further, and Kate and Emma had to strain to hear—“imagine something so fearsome and terrible it had to be buried away from the sight of men.”