I’m over to it in two bounding steps. I can already tell it’s Stefen’s handwriting. I recognize it from his letter. My hands shake violently as I unfold the pages.
You’ll find what you need here. Maybe it could help Matilda.
Get the Stone and finish it. Before I change my mind.
The pages behind it appear to be maps. Four in all. Sterling, Corrander, Sheffield, and Charlton. One for each of the Sisters.
I clutch them against my chest, my mind and heart racing. Glance around my room, shuddering when I think of him being here last night while I lay sleeping and unprotected. He’d had the opportunity to do and take whatever he wanted, from any of us. Why didn’t he?
But then my eye catches Eliza’s satchel at the foot of my wardrobe. It’s thrown open. I kneel beside it. It had been bursting with Tempests before.
Now there’s barely a single row left.
I picture Stefen stooping to fill his pockets with the Tempests. Enough for him to whip through the Sisters last night, all the way through Charlton, and then disappear forever.
I clutch the maps he left in one hand and feel for the weight of the Stone with the other. It is still safely hidden under my nightgown. The Helena Stone: the thing Stefen was searching so intently for and never found.
But if I already have the one thing Stefen wanted, I think, my fingers tightening around it—?then what are these maps for?
At nine sharp, we gather in Dr. Cliffton’s library for one final search party. Me, George, Beas, and Will.
George tries to hide a look of surprise when Eliza slips in just after nine, wearing reading glasses, her hair pulled back in a tight knot. She sits down next to Beas and opens her notebook with a freshly sharpened pencil. I pour her a cup of coffee, and we get started.
“There are two questions we need to answer,” I say, standing to address them. “One: Why would Stefen leave this series of maps, and two: Why would he go to such great lengths to get this Stone?” I look around the room and take some semblance of comfort in our steaming coffees, the steeled resolve, the togetherness in figuring out what we will do next.
“Let’s start with the obvious question. Why don’t we just follow the maps he left and start digging?” Beas asks.
“Well, for one, Beas darling, we don’t even know what we’re looking for,” Eliza says. “And it could be a trap.”
“Or it could be something that helps us.” I watch as Will clears his throat. “And helps my mother.”
“We’re going to do every last thing to help her,” George assures Will. “I just think we should have some idea of what we’re looking for first.”
“Any idea what we could find there?” I ask. Every face looks back at me blankly. The clock in the corner ticks out a minute of silence.
“We’ll come back to it. Let’s talk about the Stone, then,” I say, fishing it from behind my blouse. The four of them examine it, glinting between my fingers.
“Maybe it’s some incredibly valuable gem?” Beas asks. “Stefen wanted it because it’s worth a lot of money?”
Eliza rolls her eyes. “It’s not exactly a diamond, is it?” she says skeptically. “No gemstone that I recognize, anyway. It almost looks like glass. Where did you get it?”
“Her mother gave it to her,” Will says.
“Well—?actually,” I say, “I found it. Hidden in my mother’s Shakespeare book.”
“And where did she get it?” Eliza asks.
“I don’t know.” I hesitate. “But I think it has something to do with Shakespeare, now more than ever. Not only because of where I found it.” I spread out my notes in front of them. “But because Stefen called it the Helena Stone.”
I turn to Dr. Cliffton’s chalkboard to catch Eliza up to speed. “We’ve found other connections that trace back to Shakespeare, too.” I hand her my evidence. “Every last Disappearance is in his pages.”
“And seven years are mysteriously missing from his career, which has inspired all sorts of theories,” Beas says. “One of which is that he traveled Europe and Africa looking for something of great value.”
“Let me guess,” Eliza says. “You think it could be that Stone?”
“There’s one way to find out,” I say. “That’s why I need your help.” I display every volume of Shakespeare the Clifftons have and three different Shakespeare biographies, including the new one I ordered from Mr. Fitzpatrick. “Let’s see if there’s anything in here called the Helena Stone.”
I hand A Midsummer Night’s Dream to George and All’s Well That Ends Well to Will. “These both have Helenas in them,” I say, “so let’s start there. Eliza, Beas, and I will take the remaining biographies.”
