“Where did we leave off?” Eliza asks.
“We think the Helena Stone is somehow related to the Curse, but it’s not the whole thing. There’s still something particular about the Sisters,” George says.
I tick off my fingers: “Something is still here, something that’s related to Shakespeare, something that has even more importance than this Stone.”
George’s brow knits. “After all, even the ring doesn’t protect you from the Disappearances when you’re inside the borders,” he says to me. “It’s as though it gets overpowered when you’re close enough to the Curse’s source.”
“So that’s what the maps are going to lead us to, right?” Eliza ventures. “Something still here, that Shakespeare would have cared enough about to put this horrid Curse on us all.”
“And we’re just going to jaunt out and dig this cursed thing up, huh?” George says. “Hmm. Sounds reasonable.”
“Maybe it’s buried treasure?” Eliza suggests, her eyebrow cocking with irony. “Heirlooms from a royal family?”
“Or maybe the addresses of a family line descended from a lover who scorned him?” George adds.
Beas is studying something in the biography I gave her, and she suddenly makes a noise in her throat.
“This biography says that Shakespeare always feared that someone would dig up his grave and disturb his bones. Enough that he had this sign engraved near his tombstone.”
GOOD FRIEND FOR JESUS SAKE FORBEARE,
TO DIGG THE DUST ENCLOASED HEARE.
BLESE BE YE MAN Y SPARES THES STONES,
AND CURST BE HE Y MOVES MY BONES.
She flips the page toward us.
“I think I know what we’re going to find at the end of those maps,” Beas says.
I whisper, “We’re going to find his bones.”
George says, “He put a curse on his own grave?”
“With words taken from his own pages,” Will says.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Though neither of us speaks of it, the tension between Will and me mounts as the clock creeps closer to midnight. Every nerve inside me tingles. So many things depend on whether we’re right tonight. My mother’s past. His mother’s future.
Dr. Cliffton barely speaks through the entire day. He looks old and exhausted. I want to tell him that it’s all right to sleep. That broken hearts are heavy. That before you learn the weight of grief, even the simple act of living feels impossible. But we do learn it, eventually. I’m just not sure whether the weight of it gets lighter or we get stronger.
He lies next to Mrs. Cliffton in the bed through most of the day. He never stops holding her hand. When he finally goes downstairs late in the evening, I slip into Mrs. Cliffton’s bedroom and lay the Helena Stone over her heart. Let myself hope, for one moment, that it could be enough. But she continues to whimper, as if she feels haunted even under sedation. I kiss her cheek, take the Stone, and return to my room, where I dress all in black.
Miles has fallen asleep with his clothes on. I dust him with a heavy dose of Dream Variants from Will to ensure that he doesn’t hear us leave. I bend to brush my lips over Miles’s hair. He looks angelic, his skin smooth, his lips puckered. It’s so easy to love him when he’s sleeping.
At five to midnight there’s the lightest tap on my door. Will steps into my room, and I give him a nervous smile. “Are you sure we shouldn’t tell your father?” I scribble on a notepad. He traces my eyelids with a fingertip of Night Vision.
“I don’t want to get his hopes up,” Will writes, and pulls my window open. We slip out onto the tree branch, grab shovels and Will’s toolbox from the shed, and set off into the darkness.
Eliza and George are already waiting for us at the spot Stefen marked on the first map. It’s a field near the border of Corrander, near an abandoned, rotting barn and a stream where a fringe of reeds grows high. George spooks at the sound of us approaching.
“Just us,” I call. When we reach them, I add, “No sign of Stefen?”
Eliza gestures to her epee, a kitchen knife, two shovels, and an array of Variant pouches spread at her feet. “I think he’s gone and he’s never coming back.” She picks up her epee and wields it, glittering. “But just in case, we’ll be ready.” She nods toward a distant tree. “Besides, Beas is up there acting as lookout.” Her mouth sours. “And you’ll never guess who she brought along to help keep watch.”
I glance in the distance. See the vague outline of a boy, who lifts a large hand and waves. “Is that Thom? Are they back together?”
