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The snakes move restlessly. Gorgon’s placid face darkens. “Trouble.”
“Hooray! Our Gemma has returned,” Pippa says, half dragging me into the forest, where the girls have set up a game of croquet. They take turns with their mallets. Ann lounges on a blanket of silver threads. She plucks them like a harp and beautiful music drifts over to us. Wendy sits stroking Mr. Darcy’s fuzzy head.
“How were the horrid forest folk?” Felicity asks as she prepares to take her shot.
“Angry. Impatient. They think I will betray them,” I say, settling next to Wendy and Ann.
“Well, they will just have to wait until we’re ready, won’t they?” Felicity knocks her ball cleanly through the hoop.
“Bessie, when you were with the three girls in white on your way to the Winterlands, did they mention the Tree of All Souls?” I ask.
Bessie shakes her head. “They wasn’t the chatty sort.”
“And you’ve still not seen any Winterlands creatures?” I ask them all.
“Not a one,” Pippa says.
I want to be comforted by this, but a small voice deep inside reminds me that Pippa and the girls are still here, and beneath that glamour they wear, their cheeks are pale, their teeth sharp.
Yet they are not like those horrible trackers, those hideous wraiths that steal souls. But what are they? She need not fall. That was what Gorgon said. Is there a way around it? Do I want there to be? If I gave this power to McCleethy and the Order tonight, I’d not have to worry about it; it would be their decision to make, not mine. And they’d banish Pip to the Winterlands, for sure. No, the choice is mine to make. I’ve got to see this through.
“What are you brooding about now, Gemma?” Felicity asks.
I shake my head, clearing it of the night’s heaviness. “Nothing. Here, let me have a try.”
I take the mallet and knock it against the ball, and the ball rolls far out into the Winterlands fog.
Our visit over, we travel the now familiar path back to the secret door and step into the long, ill-lit corridor. It feels odd to me, though, as if someone else might be inside with us.
“Do you hear anything?” I whisper.
“No,” Felicity says.
It’s a faint rustling, like leaves. Or wings. We’ve gone no more than a few feet when I hear it again. I turn quickly and catch a slight glimmering like a firefly. It is there just long enough for me to make out wings, a tooth. And just like that it’s gone.
“I know you’re in here,” I say. “I saw you.”
Fee and Ann peer into the dark.
“I don’t see a thing,” Felicity says with a shrug.
“I saw something,” I say, whirling about. “I swear that I did.”
“Right! Show yourself!” Felicity demands. Only the dark answers. “Gemma, there’s nothing there, I tell you. Let’s move on.”
“Yes. All right,” I agree.
Felicity sings the bit of doggerel she learned from Pippa, and Ann joins in. “Oh, I’ve a love, a true, true love…”
I chance one last look behind me. Tucked away under a rafter is the fairy creature from the Borderlands, teeth bared in an ugly sneer. The creature gleams as brightly as a burning coal, then quickly fades to black.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
THE EGYPTIAN HALL IN PICCADILLY IS A MAGNIFICENT building. From the front, it looks as if we are about to walk into an ancient tomb resurrected from the sands of the Nile itself. The entrance is adorned by giant statues of Isis and Osiris. A large placard above advertises the Wolfson brothers’ exhibit, at three and eight o’clock. There is another for the Dudley Gallery, where many an artist has exhibited his work.
Inside, it seems a perfect replica of those far-off temples. There is a great room supported by rows of columns fashioned in the Egyptian style, complete with hieroglyphs. I should not be surprised to see Cleopatra walking among us.
We’ve received our souvenir program for tonight’s spectacle. The Wolfson brothers appear on either side of the cover, and in the center are drawings of a strange metal box on three legs, a levitating table, a fearsome specter, and a skeleton kicking his bony head about. The first page promises an evening we’ll not soon forget.
