بخش 30

CHAPTER 58

VISITORS

MOLLY SAT AT HER writing table, which was illuminated by a single oil lamp sitting next to her open diary. She dipped her pen into the ink bottle and stared at the blank page, but found herself unable to form a meaningful sentence from the bits and pieces of random thoughts and vague fears swirling around her mind.

She and her mother, weary after a day of worry and suspicion, had retired early—Molly to her bedroom in the south tower, Louise to her room on the third floor. They had agreed that each would waken the other if she heard anything odd in the night—although Molly doubted that she would sleep any time soon.

She jumped as a sharp knock shattered the silence. Composing herself, she put down her pen, rose, and went to the door and opened it. She expected to see the familiar face of Sarah, who came around each evening to tend Molly’s fireplace. Instead, she found herself looking into the intense, narrow-set eyes of Jenna.

“What is it?” Molly said coldly.

“I’m here to fix the young lady’s fire for the night,” replied Jenna, with an equal lack of warmth.

“Where is Sarah?”

“She’s not feeling well.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Oh, she’ll be fine; the young lady needn’t worry about her,” said Jenna, in a tone that, to Molly’s ears, sounded oddly amused.

“I see,” said Molly uncertainly. She stood aside and watched as Jenna went to the fireplace, removed some ashes, then scooped a few coal lumps from the scuttle and added them to the glowing pile in the fireplace. When she was done, Jenna turned to Molly and said, “Will there be anything else, m’lady?”

“No, thank you,” said Molly.

Jenna crossed the room and paused, her hand on the doorknob. She stared at Molly with an intensity that made Molly quite uncomfortable.

“Yes?” said Molly.

“Nothing, m’lady,” said Jenna.

“Then good night,” said Molly.

“And a very pleasant night to you, m’lady,” said Jenna, with a smile so unpleasant, so openly hostile, that Molly took an involuntary step back. Then Jenna swung the door shut so hard that the breeze made the lamp flame flicker in its glass chimney.

Molly stood there for a moment staring at the door, her breath coming in shallow gasps, trying to calm herself. Should she tell her mother what had happened? But what actually had happened? What was there to tell? That she didn’t like the way Jenna had smiled at her?

Chastising herself for being such a ninny, Molly went back to staring at her diary. It was useless; she was too upset to write. She rose and went to her window, pushing the curtain aside and looking down at the street.

She tensed: there was a cab outside, and men were getting out. Given the darkness and the distance, their features were indistinct: one…two…three men. They alit from the cab not twenty feet from the stout form of Mr. Jarvis, who stood beneath the streetlight. But rather than approach the men, Jarvis remained at his post, motionless. If he saw them, he gave no indication of it.

Odd.

Molly knew she must tell her mother about the visitors. She was about to turn away from the window when one of the men moved closer to the streetlight. Just for an instant, Molly caught a partial glimpse of this man’s face. Her heart froze; her mind raced back to a rowboat off Mollusk Island and the brutal man who had taken her captive, only to be outwitted by Peter. Was this the same man? The man she’d last seen being pushed out to sea by mermaids, his face contorted by rage and hatred?

Was this Slank? Could it possibly be?

Molly pressed her face to the cold windowpane, trying to get a better look. Four men had now emerged from the cab. A fifth was descending from the doorway. Like the others, he offered little more than a featureless silhouette, yet he appeared somehow darker, and he moved differently—a floating, graceful motion. Molly recognized him as the strange figure she had seen the night before.

The dark figure—he looked as if he were wearing some kind of robe—raised his right arm and gestured toward Mr. Jarvis, summoning him. To Molly’s surprise, Jarvis walked over, though slowly, and stood in front of the dark figure, his head bent submissively, apparently listening. After a moment, he nodded. He unlocked and opened the gate for the others, then trudged toward the side of the house.

Whoever this dark man was, he was clearly giving orders to Mr. Jarvis, who had now left the front of the house unguarded. Molly had to warn her mother immediately. She turned from the window, strode quickly across the room, and opened the door.

And screamed.

Jenna stood in the doorway. It was as if she hadn’t moved.

But she must have moved.

Because now she was holding a knife. CHAPTER 59

SOMETHING ODD

JARVIS WALKED STIFFLY, like a soldier marching to a drum only he could hear, along the carriageway on the north side of the Aster mansion. A few yards behind him glided the dark form of Ombra.

The other men—Slank, Nerezza, Gerch, and Hampton—remained by the front gate with the cab. The cab driver sat still, staring straight ahead; his shadow had encountered Ombra an hour earlier.

Jarvis reached the far corner of the house and turned left, toward the back door. The only sounds were the occasional whinny of a distant horse and the cold wind rustling the tree branches.

“Cadigan,” Jarvis called softly.

Cadigan’s hulking form emerged from the shadows. He drew on his pipe, his expressionless face illuminated for a moment by the red glow of the tobacco, then faded back into the darkness.

“Has she taken care of the staff?” Jarvis said, his voice low.

“Sleeping like babies.”

“What about the lady and the girl?”

“In their chambers.”

“He wants you to call Hodge outside.”

“Aye.”

“You’re to lead him here, where we’re standing,” Jarvis said. “Make sure you leave the door open. And make sure your shadow ain’t touching his.”

“Aye.”

“Do it, then.”

Jarvis melted into the darkness. Cadigan opened the door and called for Hodge, who appeared half a minute later. He was a big man, even bigger than Cadigan, with shoulders that filled the doorway.

“What is it?” Hodge said.

“Something out here I want you to see,” said Cadigan.

Hodge stepped out, followed by Hornblower the dog, who growled at Cadigan. Hodge started to pull the door closed behind him; as he did, Cadigan, sidestepping Hornblower, stepped forward and blocked the door, pushing it back open and sticking his head into the kitchen as if looking for someone. “Any of the staff around?” he said.

“I told you earlier: they all went to sleep early tonight,” said Hodge, annoyed at having to repeat himself.

“All right, then,” said Cadigan, coming back out, but leaving the door open.

Hodge was about to say something when Hornblower began barking and ran toward the corner of the house.

“Hornblower!” shouted Hodge. “Come back here!”

The dog ignored him, barking furiously as it rounded the corner.

Suddenly the barking stopped.

“Hornblower!” shouted Hodge.

A few moments later, Hornblower reappeared, walking slowly, stiffly. The dog passed Cadigan, but did not growl, or even appear to notice him. It also ignored Hodge, who frowned as the dog walked past him and into the house. Hodge then turned to Cadigan and said, with more than a little irritation in his voice, “What do you want?”

“I was wondering,” said Cadigan, moving around to Hodge’s right, so that Hodge had to turn to keep facing him, “if you noticed anything odd about Jarvis.”

“What do you mean?” said Hodge, who in fact thought that both Jarvis and Cadigan had recently been acting odd. The door was now to Hodge’s left; his back was toward the corner of the house, and thus he did not see the dark figure rounding the corner, coming toward him.

“What I mean,” said Cadigan, “is that I’m a bit troubled by his general lack of comportment.”

Hodge scowled. “What are you talking about?” he said.

“What I mean to say,” said Cadigan, “and I don’t in no way mean to imply this for certain, but, judging from my own reconnaissance, if you will, it seems to me that Jarvis has been displaying a certain lack of procedural rectitude, if you follow me.”

“No,” said Hodge. “I don’t follow you. Not at all. And I don’t think I should be out here, neither.” He started to turn toward the door.

“Wait,” said Cadigan, putting a hand on Hodge’s thick right forearm.

Hodge, irritated, turned back and started to say something, but stopped when he felt the air suddenly grow colder.

Out of the corner of his left eye, Cadigan saw Hodge’s shadow moving, stretching back….

Instantly, Hodge slumped, the life gone from his face. Gone, too, was his shadow, replaced in a moment by another, thinner one. Now Hodge came back to life, but his expression had changed from suspicion and irritation to passiveness and docility. Cadigan saw Ombra tuck his rough cloth bag into the darkness of his cloak, then turn and glide back toward the corner of the house, where he vanished.

“This way,” said the groaning voice.

“Yes, m’lord,” said Hodge, pivoting and following Ombra. Cadigan followed Hodge, both men moving in the same stiff-legged manner. They rounded the house and rejoined the others near the front gate. Ombra ordered Jarvis, Cadigan, and Hodge to guard the house, then turned to Slank and Nerezza.

“You will bring the lady of the house here. Her room is on the third floor. Do not harm her. Put her in the taxi. Gerch and Hampton will see her back to the ship. You will wait here for me.”

“As you wish,” Nerezza said. He exhaled, the cold air causing a plume of condensation to whistle from his nose-piece.

“What about the girl?” said Slank. He very much wanted to see the girl. He vividly remembered the last time he’d seen her—she and the boy—flying away, leaving him in the rowboat, defeated. Oh, yes, he would like to see that girl again, and the look of fear on her face when she realized that she was not rid of him.

But Slank’s face fell when Ombra answered: “I will deal with the girl.”

Disappointed, but not about to defy Ombra, Slank turned and followed Nerezza up the walkway toward the house. A moment later, Ombra glided after them. Gerch and Hampton watched the dark form disappear silently through the doorway.

“I wonder why he wants to get the girl,” said Hampton.

“I don’t know,” said Gerch. “But I would not want to be the girl.”