The Sweet Far Thing (25 page)

Nightwing announces to delighted cheers.

The fires in the great hall are stoked to blazing again. Biscuits and tea are brought round. We toast Miss McCleethy’s return, and the girls regale her with tales of Spence and the coming London season and the costumes they shall wear for the masked ball. Miss McCleethy listens to it all without divulging anything about herself or her whereabouts these past three months.

At half past ten o’clock, Mrs. Nightwing announces that it is time for bed. Reluctantly, the girls soldier toward the staircase. I am nearly there when Miss McCleethy stops me.

“Miss Doyle, could you remain a moment?”

Felicity and Ann and I exchange furtive glances.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“Yes, Miss McCleethy.” I swallow the lump rising in my throat and watch my friends climb the stairs to safety while I wait behind with the enemy.

Miss McCleethy and I perch on the velvet settee in the small parlor used to receive guests, listening to the ormolu clock on the mantel tick off the excruciating silence in seconds. Miss McCleethy turns her dark eyes to me, and I begin to perspire.

“How nice it is to be at Spence once again,” she says.

“Yes. The gardens are lovely,” I answer. It is like a game of lawn tennis in which neither of us returns the same ball.

Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.

“And you are excited to be having your season, I trust?”

“Yes, quite.”

Tick. Tock. Tick.

“There is that other matter we must discuss. The matter of the realms.”

Tock.

“Miss Doyle, I’ve begun the task of trying to find the last members of the Order. I do not know how many have survived or what powers remain, but it is my hope that soon we shall return the realms and our sisterhood to their former glory.”

Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock.

Miss McCleethy presses her lips into a semblance of a smile. “So you see, I’ve been trying to help you.”

“You’ve been helping yourself,” I correct.

“Is that so?” She turns that penetrating gaze on me. “You’ve had no trouble from the Rakshana, I trust?”

“No,” I say, surprised.

“And did you not wonder why?”

“I…”

“It is because of me, Miss Doyle.
I
have kept them at bay through my own means, but I cannot keep them from you forever.”

“How could you stop the Rakshana?”

“Do you think I would leave that to chance? We have our spies within their ranks, just as they have had theirs within ours,” she says pointedly, and my stomach tightens at the memory of Kartik’s last terrible mission for the Rakshana. The brotherhood ordered him to kill me. “I might remind you that your judgment has been hasty before.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“What do you want from me?” I snap.

“Miss Doyle. Gemma. You don’t understand yet that I am your friend. I should like to help you—if you would allow it.”

She places a gentle hand on my shoulder. I wish that small motherly gesture held no power over me, but it does. It is funny how you do not miss affection until it is given, but once it is, it can never be enough; you would drown in it if possible.

I blink against the sudden surprise of tears. “You told me not to make an enemy of you.”

“I spoke rashly. I was disappointed that you did not come to us.” Miss McCleethy takes my hands in hers. Her hands are bony and far too light and feel as if they are not accustomed to holding another’s.

“You have been able to do what no one before you has. You were able to open the realms again. You defeated Circe for us.”

At Circe’s name, my heartbeat quickens. I stare at a big brown spot on the floor where the wood is warped. “And what about my friends? What of Felicity and Ann?”

Miss McCleethy slides her hands from mine. She walks around the room, her fingers clasped behind her back, like a priest in thought. “If the realms haven’t chosen them, there is nothing I can do about it. They are not destined for this life.”

“But they are my friends,” I say. “They’ve helped me. So have some of the tribes and creatures within the realms.”

Miss McCleethy brushes an invisible speck of dirt from the mantel. “They cannot be a part of us. I am sorry.”

“I can’t turn my back on them.”

“Your loyalty is commendable, Gemma. Truly it is. But it is misplaced. Do you suppose that if your roles were reversed and they were chosen for membership in the Order, the others would hesitate to abandon you?”

“They are my friends,” I repeat.

“They are your friends because you have power. And I have seen how power changes everything.” Miss McCleethy settles into the large wingback chair across from me. Her gaze bores into me. “Your mother fought bravely for our cause. You wouldn’t want to sully her memory, to disappoint her, would you?”

“You’ve no leave to speak of my mother.” My hair falls into my face. I push it furiously behind my ear but it will not stay.

Miss McCleethy’s voice is low and sure. “Haven’t I? She was one of us—a sister of the Order. She died trying to protect you, Gemma. I would honor her memory by looking after you.”

“She didn’t want me to be part of your Order. That’s why she kept me hidden in India.”

Gently, Miss McCleethy secures the errant hair behind my ear, where it has the bad manners to obey
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

her by staying put. “And yet, she asked your father to send you here should anything happen to her.”

I’ve been so certain these past few days, but now my thoughts feel mud-soaked, and I cannot see the way clearly. What if they are right and I am wrong?

“What will you do, Gemma? How will you manage all on your own?”

“But you’ve not been inside in twenty-five years,” I say, coming round again. “You are the one who doesn’t know how it is now.”

She stiffens. That motherly smile fades from her lips. “You’d be wise to listen to me, Miss Doyle. You may believe you can show largesse to these creatures, befriend them, join with them, but you are deceived. You’ve no idea what terrible acts they are capable of committing. They will betray you in the end.
We
are your friends, your family. There is only one way—our way—and it must be exercised with no exceptions.”

The clock tsk-tsks in time. The brown spot in the wood seems to grow. I can feel Miss McCleethy’s eyes upon me, daring me to look. Her voice softens once more to that motherly coo.

“Gemma, we’ve been protectors of the magic for generations. We understand its ways. Let us carry the burden. We shall bring you into the Order as one of our own. You’ll take your rightful place.”

“And if I refuse?”

Miss McCleethy’s voice turns razor-sharp. “I can no longer protect you.”

She means to frighten me. But I shan’t give up so easily.

“Miss McCleethy, there is something I must confess,” I say, still staring at the floor. “I cannot enter the realms. Not anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

I force myself to meet her gaze. “I’ve tried, but the power has left me. I was afraid to tell you. I’m not who you thought me to be. I’m sorry.”

“But I thought you’d bound the magic to yourself.”

“I thought I had, too. But I was wrong. Or it wouldn’t take in me after all.”

“I see,” she says.

For the longest moment of my life, McCleethy holds my gaze while I try desperately not to flinch, and the clock measures our unspoken hate in ticks and tocks. At last, she turns her attention to a small ceramic angel figurine perched near the edge of a side table.

“Miss Doyle, if you’re lying, I’ll know in time. Such power can’t easily be hidden.”

“I’m sorry to be such a disappointment,” I say.

“Not half as sorry as I am.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

She tries to move the angel back from the table’s edge and nearly drops it. It wobbles precariously, then stops.

“May I go to bed now?” I ask, and she dismisses me with a wave of her hand.

“Gemma. Pssst!” It’s Felicity. She and Ann have hidden in Ann’s bed. She pops up like a jack-in-the-box in hair ribbons. “What happened? Did McCleethy bite you with her fangs?”

“In a manner of speaking,” I say, pulling at my boots. I loosen the tiny loops from the hooks. “She wanted me to become one with the Order and follow their training.”

“She wanted you to give them all your power, you mean,” Felicity scoffs.

“Did she mention taking us into the Order?” Ann asks.

“No,” I say, leaving my stockings on the floor in a heap. “She only wanted me.”

Felicity’s eyes narrow. “You told her no, then?” It is not so much a question as a demand.

“I told her I no longer held the power and that I couldn’t enter the realms at all.”

Felicity snorts in delight. “Well done, Gemma!”

“I don’t think she believed me,” I warn. “We shall have to be very careful.”

“She’ll be no match for us.” Felicity bounds out of Ann’s bed. “Till morning,
mes amies
!”

“Mawah meenon ne le plus poohlala,”
I say with an affected bow.

Felicity laughs. “What, pray tell, was that?”

“My French. I daresay it’s improving.”

Ann falls asleep within minutes, and I am left to stare at the cracks branching off left and right in the ceiling. What if Miss McCleethy is right? What if the realms don’t choose my friends or the forest folk?

Whom will they blame for that? Then again, Miss McCleethy tried to force me to take her into the realms once before. She’d say or do anything to return the realms to the Order.

So many decisions, so many responsibilities, and no clear path. Out my window, the woods are dark save for the firelight coming from the Gypsy camp. There is one matter I can put to rest tonight, and I will have answers about that, at least.

I creep down the stairs, taking care not to make a single sound. The doors to the great hall are ajar. A lamp still burns inside. I hear whispering voices, and I crouch low, listening.

“You’re certain?”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“It’s the only way. We can’t leave it to chance. The risk is too great.”

“You would place all your faith in this plan? We have no real proof—”

“Don’t question me. I cannot do this without you.”

“I am loyal. You know that I am.”

“I do.”

The door is opened, and I hide behind a tall potted fern. I watch Miss McCleethy and Mrs. Nightwing ascend the stairs, the candle flame casting their long shadows on the wall and ceiling till they seem to loom over everything. I wait until long after I hear the baize door click. When I am satisfied that they are gone, I fly on angel feet to the Gypsy camp.

I approach the camp stealthily, searching for the best way in. I wish I’d brought scraps to quiet the dogs.

A twig breaks to my right, and suddenly, I’m yanked hard to the ground and the full weight of another pins me there.

“I shall scream,” I gasp, but I’ve barely enough breath to speak.

“Miss Doyle!” Kartik lifts me from the ground. “What are you doing out here?”

“What are you…doing throwing me…about like a…highwayman?” I brush the leaves from my skirt and try to force air back into my lungs.

“I am sorry, but you shouldn’t creep about the woods at night. It isn’t safe.”

“So I see,” I reply.

“You’ve not answered my question. Why are you here?”

“I came to find you.” My breath comes shakily but now it has little to do with being thrown to the ground. “I want answers, and I shan’t leave until I have them.”

“I’ve nothing to tell you,” he says, turning away.

I fall in beside him. “I’m not leaving. I need your help. Wait—where are you going?”

“To feed the horses,” he answers without stopping.

“But the Order has a secret plan!” I protest.

“That does not change the fact that the horses are hungry and must be fed. You may tell me along the way.”

I match his stride. “Miss McCleethy returned this evening.”

“She’s here now?” Kartik cranes his neck toward Spence.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“Yes,” I say. “But she’s sleeping. We’re safe.”

“Not with that woman about,” Kartik mumbles. “What did she tell you?”

“She wanted me to join the Order but I refused. And just now, I overheard her talking with Mrs.

Nightwing. They mentioned a plan of some sort. She also said that she’s kept the Rakshana from coming for me, but that if I don’t join the Order, she won’t protect me any longer.” I steal a glance at him. “She has a spy within your ranks. Do you know anything about it?”