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“Don’t you see? The moment I tip my hand that I’ve got the realms magic, they’ll take it from me. I can’t let them know.”

“What will you do?” Ann asks.

“There is something else. When I was in London, I had another vision—and I saw Miss McCleethy in this one.” I tell them about the lady and the ghostly carriage. Firelight shadows writhe on the curtains of Felicity’s tent like demons.

“McCleethy,” Ann says, shivering. “But what does it mean?”

“Yes, what’s the good of a messenger you can’t understand?” Felicity complains. “Why, just once, can’t one of these haunts simply say, ‘Hello, Gemma, frightfully sorry to bother you, but I thought you might like to know that Mrs. X is the one to watch out for—she’ll eat your heart. Cheerio!’”

I roll my eyes. “Most helpful. Thank you. I’m afraid my visions don’t work quite that way. It’s up to me to assign the meaning. Not that I’ve a clue. But there is someone who might. We must attend the exhibition at the Egyptian Hall and find this Dr. Van Ripple. I shall get to work on LeFarge as soon as possible.”

“Agreed,” Ann and Felicity chime.

“I want to show you something.” Felicity opens a box and peels back layers of tissue. Inside is a truly exquisite cape—midnight blue velvet with white fur trim round the collar and silk ribbons for ties.

“Oh,” Ann gasps. “How lucky you are.”

Felicity holds the cape at a distance. “Father wants to take little Polly on a trip. I objected, and he bought me this.”

“Why should you object?” Ann asks, still eyeing it.

Fee and I exchange a glance neither of us is eager to hold. We both know what it means for the admiral to take his young ward on a trip. The horror of it silences me.

“I’m giving it to Pip,” Fee says, folding it carefully into its box.

Ann’s mouth opens in shock. “Won’t your mother be angry?”

“Let her be,” Felicity says, her lips pressed into a hard line. “I shall say it was ruined by the washerwoman. She’ll be angry and say I am careless with my things. I shall tell her she is careless with hers as well.”

The box is stored beneath Felicity’s chair. “But what of tonight? Gemma, the realms?”

They look to me hopefully.

“Yes. The realms.” I pull back a section of the tent, and we spy on Miss McCleethy. She sits with Nightwing and LeFarge, sharing tea and good spirits. Nightwing steals peeks at the clock, and I know she is itching for her evening sherry. At least we may be assured she’ll sleep through our adventures. But McCleethy is a different matter. She’s waiting for me to make a mistake, to prove I have the magic, and I’m doubly suspicious of her now after my vision.

“Blasted McCleethy,” Felicity snarls. “She’s going to ruin everything.”

Ann nibbles her bottom lip, thinking. “What if we were to put a spell on her? We could make her so sleepy that she must go to bed for days.”

Felicity snorts. “Are you mad? She’ll probably come for our skins—while we still inhabit them!”

“No,” I say. “The slightest hint of magic used against her and she’ll know. We can’t chance it just now. She mustn’t suspect a thing. I’m afraid we’ll simply have to wait until she’s safely asleep before we go into the realms.”

“She doesn’t look at all sleepy,” Ann laments.

I spy Mademoiselle LeFarge getting up from her chair.

“Keep the wolves at bay,” I say, rising as well.

I catch our teacher in the library, where she searches for a book among the many on the shelves.

“Bonsoir, Mademoiselle LeFarge,” I manage to say. “Er, comment allez-vous?”

She corrects my pronunciation without looking up. “Como tallay-voo.”

“Yes, I shall make more of an effort.”

“I should be happy, Miss Doyle, if you would make an effort at all.”

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