His chambers.
“Oh my God, Flora,” I gasped, my eyes springing wide as they found hers. “I know how to find him. But Ineedto get into his apartment. I’ll explain when we get there. But can… can you take me to the Netherworld?”
“How soon can we leave?” said Flora.
“We’ll go now,” I said, grabbing my yellow cardigan from the back of my swivel chair.
“That’s what I was hopin’ you’d say,” said Flora, a flicker of relief registering on her young face.
46HELENA
Flora had a different method for smuggling me into the Netherworld than Grim. Instead of taking hold of my soul, she masked me with a glamour similar to the one she’d used on herself, smothering my essence under fairy magic so we only registered as one being, one fairy—her—when we crossed the threshold.
From there, the two of us ran through the woods, all the way to the towering black cathedral-like citadel that loomed like a behemoth amid the craggy trees, which skirted its foundation, small as toys in the fortress’s presence—just like us.
Together, we entered a long Gothic hall, and as we raced down the straight and unending corridor, I swore the green flames in their sconces whispered my name—like they knew me. Like this place did.
If Flora heard, she didn’t let on.
Finally, we reached the familiar chamber of the Basins, where we found Johann pacing in front of his desk. Perched on the old man’s shoulder, Pluto saw me first.
“Bright light!” the bird called, wings opening as though with excitement. “What a sight!”
“Helena!” Johann exclaimed, his frightened and surprised gaze darting between me and Flora.
“I had to bring her here,” said Flora. “She says she knows how to find Grim.”
“Grim Grim,” said Pluto, “we miss him.”
Johann frowned, his eyes suddenly so sad. “My greatest fear is that he’s been arrested. Or even that he is on trial this very moment—facing judgment with The Few. Otherwise, with the backup of souls, why wouldn’t they have answered my summons or come looking for him before now?”
I didn’t say anything. I just hurried to Grim’s statue, which did not hold its scythe.
I froze under that hooded stare, suddenly much less sure I could actually get in to view the painting that portrayed Grim’s whereabouts.
Last time, I’d gotten out of his chambers by borrowing one of his scythes. This time, though, I had nothing to offer the statue.
Nothing, that was, except for myself.
Unsure of what else I could do, I gripped the stone reaper’s awaiting hand with mine.
To our unanimous surprise, those fingers curled around mine. Stuck, I peered wide-eyed over my shoulder at Flora, Johann, and Pluto, who ticked his head at the phenomenon in wonder.
Maybe this was some kind of trap set by The Few?
That thought left me as the hooded statue lifted my hand to press its teeth—or rather, the lips it didn’t possess—to my knuckles.
“Missing Grim,” said Pluto, “kisses the miss.”
The statue released me and, with a lowclunk, began to move, its short plinth sliding to one side to reveal the spiral staircase down to Grim’s lair.
Cradling my hand close, the one the statue had “kissed,” I couldn’t help a small smile—a smallhopefulsmile.
Surely, if Grim was somehow no more, this statue wouldn’t have responded to me this way. And this sweet gesture from this inanimate eidolon. Did it somehow mean that holding the keys to Grim’s heart was the same as holding keys to his place?
A question for another—and I hoped to God happier—time.
Without looking back, I plunged into the darkness, followed by Flora, whose wings fluttered as she flew down the channel.
