فصل 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Devil’s Bargain

The air told Kate when they were getting close. It was no longer the damp, stale air she’d been breathing since the previous morning; this was clean, fresh. The Secretary must’ve sensed it as well.

“Almost there,” he gasped, tightening his grip on Kate’s arm, which he seemed to be holding more for support than control, “almost there …”

No guards had been posted outside his cage, and Kate had been able to sneak up unnoticed and whisper her proposal through the bars.

If the Countess would free the children and leave without harming anyone else, Kate would deliver the Atlas. But the Secretary had to get her to Cambridge Falls before Robbie and Gabriel’s army. Could he do that?

Yes, the man had sneered, there was a way.

Now, as the pair stumbled along the tunnel, Kate holding aloft their pilfered lantern, she thought about Emma and Michael. Given the chance, she would’ve told them that her visions weren’t like movies. She didn’t watch them happen; she lived them. She had been on the boat as it went over the falls. She had felt what the children felt as it plunged toward the rocks. Their terror had been hers, and she would do anything to spare them that pain.

She and the Secretary rounded a bend, and for the first time in two days, Kate was in the open air.

They were high over the valley, on a path cutting down the side of the mountain. The moon was full, and it bathed the entire world in a calming, silvery glow. The sheer sense of space took her breath away. Kate thought it was the most beautiful sight she’d ever beheld.

The Secretary fell to his knees at the edge of the cliff and started drawing in the dirt with his finger.

“What’re you doing? The others will be after me! We have to—”

“Quiet! I need to concentrate!”

Kate looked back toward the tunnel. She expected at any moment to hear her name being called, to see the light of approaching torches.

“There.” The Secretary straightened up, wiping his hands on his jacket. “Done.”

“Done what? All you’ve done is draw a line in the dirt!”

“Ah, but it’s a special line.”

“Dr. Pym and Gabriel are going to be here any second! You said you knew a way to town!”

“I do; this way. Step over the line.”

Kate looked at the not entirely straight yard-long scratch in the dirt. Stepping over it would mean stepping off the cliff and into thin air.

“You’re joking.”

“It will take you to the Countess. It is magic she granted me.”

“Uh-huh. Well, there has to be another way. If we run—”

The Secretary lurched at her, shoving his sweating face into hers.

“There is no other way! Your friends will be here soon! Does the little birdie want to save the children? Then birdie has to fly! Fly, fly, fly …”

He stepped back, gesturing to the line like a gruesome maitre d’. Kate noticed he was clutching something in his hand. It was the tiny yellow bird she’d seen earlier, but its body was motionless and limp.

“What about you?”

“Very kind of you to ask, very kind. But only room for one birdie. Griddley Cavendish will find another way.”

“How do I know you’re not trying to kill me?”

He smiled his filthy, cracked-toothed grin. “You don’t. Now—fly.”

Her insides felt like they had turned to ice. She took a trembling step to the edge of the line. A breeze blew in off the valley, pushing back her hair. She looked down. Far below, she could make out the rocky base of the mountain. Then she heard it—the faint echo of a shout. And again. It’d come from the tunnel; someone was calling her name.

Kate closed her eyes and stepped off the cliff.

Her foot struck something solid. She heard a sound like water slapping against metal, the low rumble of an engine. She opened her eyes. She was on the deck of a boat; the moon reflected off the surface of the lake. The Secretary’s magic had worked.

“Katrina …”

Kate spun around. The Countess stood there, flanked by two morum cadi. She clapped gleefully.

“You’re here! I’m so happy!”

After failing to find her sister, Emma had run to tell Michael and discovered everyone in an uproar over the fact the Secretary had disappeared from his cage. She pulled her brother aside.

“You gotta help me find Kate. She wasn’t in the room.”

Dr. Pym overheard this and lunged toward them, grasping Emma by the arm.

“What did you say?”

Emma told him, and Dr. Pym let out a long sigh. “Oh, this is very bad.”

Just then, a man was brought forward. He had seen two figures running toward the eastern end of the city.

Dr. Pym told Gabriel, “Go. We will catch up,” and the giant man turned and like that was gone. Dr. Pym instructed Robbie to put together a larger group and follow as quickly as he could. “Come, children. I fear your sister is about to make a grave mistake.” And the three of them set off after Gabriel.

As they hurried along the dark tunnel, Dr. Pym pressed Michael and Emma to tell him what they knew. There was no mistaking his seriousness, and Michael and Emma held nothing back. They told him about Kate’s vision, about the Countess gathering the children onto the boat, about the dam being destroyed, how all the children had died. They told him that Kate believed the vision was a warning.

“I should have been more careful,” Dr. Pym muttered, striding faster and faster. “I only pray we are in time.”

When they emerged from the tunnel onto the side of the mountain, Gabriel was kneeling, studying the earth in the moonlight.

“I do not understand. The tracks show the man ran off alone down the path. But the girl”—he paused, glancing at Emma and Michael—“her tracks say she stepped off the cliff. I do not think she was pushed. But nor do I see a body on the rocks below.”

“What?!” Emma’s voice spiked with panic. “No! You gotta be wrong! I’m sorry, Gabriel, but it’s dark and all; you probably just didn’t see it right! Read those tracks or whatever again!”

Dr. Pym was looking at the line the Secretary had drawn in the dirt.

“There is no body,” he said, “because Katherine is with the Countess.”

He explained that the line was a portal.

“So can’t we use it too?” Michael asked.

“No. It was designed to transport one person. Stepping across it now would mean stepping to your death.” He wiped it out with the toe of his shoe. There was the sound of footsteps, and Robbie and several other dwarves, along with a few men, came sprinting out of the tunnel. “We are too late,” Dr. Pym said. “The Countess has her. Gabriel and I and the children will go immediately to Cambridge Falls. When your forces are mustered, lead them down this path. It will take you to the town.”

“You’re mad,” the dwarf gasped. “If the girl’s with the witch, our goose is cooked. Anyway, take you bloody hours to get to town on foot.”

“Then we mustn’t dawdle. Just follow the path.” Nodding to Gabriel and the children, he started down the trail, moving with his brisk, long-legged stride.

“Dr. Pym!” Michael and his sister hurried after him, struggling not to trip as the rocky path snaked down the mountain, Gabriel following close behind. “King Robbie’s right. It’ll take us hours to get there like this.”

“Yeah,” Emma said, “why don’t you make one of those portal things?”

“Unnecessary. I know a shortcut. Stay close now.”

As he said this, the children noticed that they were walking into some kind of mist or cloud, which was strange since moments before the sky had been perfectly clear. Soon the mist became so thick that Dr. Pym ordered Michael and Emma to hold hands so that neither wandered off the edge of the cliff. They followed the wizard by the dim outline of his back, and, when that had been swallowed up, by his voice, calling to them through the fog, “Careful now, there’s a tricky bit here. Careful …” Then, as if not being able to see wasn’t bad enough, their other senses began playing tricks on them. They smelled trees they knew weren’t there, heard nonexistent water slapping against a bank; even the rocky slope of the mountain seemed to level out and become soft. Michael was just making a mental note to do more research on the disorientating effects of fog when Dr. Pym announced:

“And here we are.”

Michael gasped.

“How …,” Emma began.

“I told you,” Dr. Pym said, “I knew a shortcut.”

They had stepped out of the fog and were standing at the edge of the lake in Cambridge Falls, looking out across the moonlit water. Michael glanced back to see Gabriel emerge from a misty tunnel in the trees. Once he’d joined them, Dr. Pym went on:

“My friends, we have reached the most difficult part of our task. I needn’t remind you of the lives at stake. Katherine and the children are on the boat with the Countess. I will see to them. Gabriel, you’d best hurry to the dam. I fear the Countess may have sabotaged it. Do what you can.”

“I’ll go with Gabriel,” Emma said. “He might need me.” She looked up at the giant man. “You might.”

“Very well,” Dr. Pym said. “Michael, my boy, you’re with me. Quickly now, and good luck to us all.”

Kate closed her eyes and called up the image of the book-lined room: she pictured the fire in the grate, the snow falling outside, Dr. Pym at his desk with his pipe and cup of tea; she saw her mother enter, heard her say that Richard was still at the college; every detail was vivid and clear.…

Kate opened her eyes and saw the red satin curtains, the armchairs upholstered in deep velvet, the mahogany-and-gold table; from the corner, a Victrola played a high, haunting melody as gas lamps flickered on the walls, the light refracting through an ornate crystal chandelier. She sighed. She was still on the boat. Still in the Countess’s cabin.

“Katrina, you are testing my patience.”

The Countess was wearing a black gown that made her white skin almost luminescent, and in the wavering light, her eyes changed from violet to indigo to lavender in the space of moments. She poured herself a glass of wine and looked at Kate with a bored expression.

Since she had arrived on the boat, nothing had gone as Kate had planned. Starting with her demand to see the children …

“My dear, that’s quite impossible. But I admire how you’re always thinking of others. We’re very alike in that way.”

“If you’ve hurt any of them, I won’t help you get the Atlas.”

“Oh, oh, oh, look who’s learned the name of her magic book! Brava, ma chérie!”

“I mean it!” Kate had shouted, trying, unsuccessfully, to keep the quaver out of her voice. “I’ll let you kill me first. I know about the monster you keep here.”

“Aren’t you clever! As it happens, I released that nasty thing before I came aboard. I thought it could greet the townsmen when they arrive.”

“What? You can’t! You—”

“Now now, did you come to save the children or a mob of loutish townsmen? I’m afraid you can’t do both.”

“Fine,” Kate had snapped, telling herself that Dr. Pym and Gabriel were more than a match for any of the witch’s creatures. “Let the children go, and I’ll get you the book.”

The Countess had clucked her tongue. “I think you’re confused about the order of things. First, you bring me the Atlas. Then, my charges go free.”

“That’s not—”

“Darling, be reasonable. You must know the children are my only protection! Not that I need protection from you; you’re an angel! But I suspect you’ve been consorting with some less than savory characters, dwarves and wizards and the like? I forgive you, of course. We all make mistakes when we’re young. I could tell you about a certain Italian dancing instructor. No, no, book first, children second!”

“But—”

“The instant I have it, I’ll release them! I give you my word!”

The Countess had looked at her with a taunting expression, and in that moment, Kate realized how fully she had placed herself in the witch’s power. Gripping the arms of her chair, she’d thought of the children locked somewhere in the belly of the ship and asked what it was she had to do.

“My love, it is the easiest thing in the world!”

Apparently, Kate had only to imagine the desired moment; then, once she held it firmly in her mind, she would, with the Countess’s assistance, be transported to that time and place. Did Kate remember when she and her brother and sister had first traveled into the past? How they had placed a photo upon the blank page?

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“Well, you can’t imagine that the Atlas was designed, all those thousands of years ago, for use with photos! The photo merely provided a clear image. Given a specific destination, whether through a photo, a drawing, an image in your mind, or even—if you had enough control, which, sadly, you do not—the statement, ‘Take me here,’ the Atlas would obey. We do not have the Atlas. However, some of its power now resides in you, and the same principle applies.”

So again and again, Kate had closed her eyes and pictured herself in Dr. Pym’s study, and again and again, she opened them to find herself still in the cabin.

Her frustration boiled over.

“It’s not working! You said you’d help me!”

“I am helping you,” the Countess sighed. “In ways you cannot understand. But are you truly imagining yourself in the past? Envisioning the exact moment in time in which you left our precious book?”

“Yes! I’m doing everything! Maybe I just can’t—”

“Shhh.” The Countess came and placed a hand on the back of Kate’s neck. The cabin was uncomfortably warm, and the young woman’s hand was cool. “You must relax or the magic will never come. How far into the past are we speaking of?”

Kate exhaled, wanting to knock away the Countess’s hand and at the same time loving how good it felt.

“… Four years.”

“Four years. And where are you? Describe it.”

“It’s a room. Like a study. There’s a fire. It’s snowing outside. Dr. Pym is there.”

“Anyone else?”

Kate thought of lying, but what was the point? She needed the Countess’s help.

“My … mother. She comes in.”

The Countess let out a small “Ah,” as if Kate had just shown her something beautiful. “And how do you feel about your mother?”

“I love her.”

“Of course you do. But is that all? She did abandon you and your brother and sister.”

“She had to. They were protecting us.”

“Really? How do you know that?”

Kate had no answer.

“I see.” The Countess was caressing Kate’s hair. “And when she went away, who did she leave to take care of your brother and sister?”

“She told me to.”

“But you were just a child!”

Kate knew the outrage was an act, but part of her couldn’t help responding, the same part that was worn out with the strain of caring for Michael and Emma, the part that for so long had prayed for someone to come and say, “It’s okay. You can stop now. I’m here. I’ll take care of you.”

“Perhaps removing this will help.”

Kate saw the Countess’s hand pass before her; there was a flash of gold; and when she looked up, she had to stifle a cry. The Countess had somehow unclasped her mother’s locket.

“A gift from her, I’m guessing. You were touching it as we spoke.”

“That’s mine—”

“Oh hush. This memory is about your mother. That’s why the wizard chose it. Your feelings are the gateway. You feel love, yes, and loss. But that’s not all.” Her fist closed over the locket. “Magic such as this demands you lay yourself bare. Your parents deserted you. Tell me you don’t feel anger, frustration, even rage. If you want to save the children, you can’t shut anything out.”

“I’m not!”

“Continue to lie, and their deaths will be on your head.”

Kate tore away from the woman’s gaze. She found she was trembling.

“I know you’re afraid. But this is the only way.”

Kate could see the end of the chain, dangling; she could just reach out and grab it.

“Katrina.”

A long moment passed. Kate listened to the eerie melody from the Victrola, watched the gaslight wavering against the walls. She nodded.

“Good. Now close your eyes.”

Kate obeyed. Once more, she put herself in the study, imagining the falling snow, the smell of Dr. Pym’s tobacco, the fire. She pictured her mother coming in. And then, because nothing was happening, she finally let go, and all the anger and fear and doubt she’d held at bay for so long flooded her heart. Why had their parents abandoned them? What possible reason could they have had for leaving them on their own? For ten years, Kate had held their family together all by herself and the strain had almost broken her. She wondered if their parents had ever tried to find them. Or had they just walked away? Started a new life with—

There was a yank in her gut, and Kate knew it had happened.

She opened her eyes, and there was her mother, exactly as she’d left her, hand on the doorknob, mouth frozen in surprise. Kate glanced at Dr. Pym. He sat at his desk, smiling.

“Oh my.” Her mother took a step back. “You were just here, and then you … Oh my …”

Emma and Gabriel were crouched behind a fallen tree at the edge of the wood, forty yards from the dam. Three morum cadi with torches stood guard. Gabriel had unslung his bow and fitted an arrow to the string. Two arrows more were stuck into the ground. He was waiting for a cloud to cover the moon.

Emma looked up past the mouth of the gorge to the wide black expanse of the lake. She tried to imagine the dam breaking and all that dark water rushing down and over the falls, carrying along the boat, the children, her sister, everything. They couldn’t let that happen.

“Gabriel …”

“Shhh.”

He’d turned and was staring into the trees behind them.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. Something …”

A shadow swept over them, and Emma looked up to see the last glowing sliver of moon disappear from view. There was a soft swooft beside her, then another, and two of the torches fell burning to the ground and Gabriel was pulling back a third arrow; then it too was gone and Emma watched as the last remaining torch stumbled and vanished into the gorge.

“Quietly now,” Gabriel whispered. “There may be others inside.”

They ran across the open ground, Emma stepping around the smoking bodies of the Screechers as Gabriel paused to retrieve a torch. The top of the dam loomed over them, rising seven or eight feet above the lip of the gorge. Up close, the structure was massive, and Emma realized that she’d thought of the dam as a single solid block of wood. It wasn’t; there was a door, and Gabriel opened it, exposing a set of stairs going down. He went first, waving Emma forward when the way proved clear; then it was down two flights through the dank air, Gabriel’s torch lighting the steps, and out onto a kind of balcony.

“Whoa.” Emma stopped dead, staring.

Faint orangish lights were strung up throughout the dam, outlining a network of wooden beams that stretched from wall to wall like the ribs of some enormous beast. It felt strange to be standing there, with a dozen flights of stairs still below them and the body of the dam curving away; the impression was one of great space. At the same time, the front and back walls were only twenty feet apart, so everything seemed narrow and compressed. Emma gripped the railing to steady herself.

“Weird how it’s all hollow, huh?”

Gabriel didn’t respond.

“What’s that noise?” Emma asked.

An eerie, unmoored groaning rose and fell all around them.

“The pressure of the water causes the wood to rub against itself.”

Emma tried to picture the water massing against the curved face of the dam. It seemed to her she was in the belly of a giant wooden whale.

“There.”

She looked to where Gabriel was pointing. Far below, through the dim orange haze, she could make out a handful of green lights, spaced across the front of the dam.

“Gas mines. We have little time. When the light goes red, they will explode.”

Questions sprang to Emma’s mind: Exactly how long did they have? How did you turn a gas mine off? What was a gas mine? Before she could ask any of them, Gabriel shoved her to the floor and something flew past with a terrifying shriek.

Gabriel was on his feet instantly, whipping off his bow. Still flat on her stomach, Emma craned her neck upward. A dark shape was weaving between the beams of the dam, circling back in their direction. She watched as Gabriel’s arrow ricocheted harmlessly off the creature’s hide. Two more arrows fared no better, and the creature landed vulture-like on a crossbeam a few yards above.

Nothing Emma had encountered, not the Countess’s Screechers, not the sightless, shadow-dwelling salmac-tar, nothing had prepared her for this. The thing had the body of a man—the same arms, legs, shoulders—but Emma’s first thought was of an enormous bat. It had leathery wings, long talons that gripped the wood, and a gray-black hide bristling with dark hairs. Its skull was oddly narrow, with eyes that were little more than black slits, and its lower jaw jutted out horribly, displaying dozens of needle-like teeth. Emma could almost feel them tearing through her flesh.

Gabriel dropped his bow as he lifted Emma to her feet.

“What … what is it?”

Gabriel unsheathed his falchion. The creature was watching them, hissing. “It is what the witch was keeping on the boat. I thought I sensed it in the woods.” He turned Emma so that she met his eyes. “You must defuse the mines. Everything depends on you. You understand?”

“What about—”

“Do not worry about me. And whatever happens, do not look up. Go!”

He gave her a shove toward the stairs. She paused to look back and saw the creature rise up, its wings spreading wide, jaws gaping, all those teeth gleaming in the darkness. She saw Gabriel raise his falchion.

Then she ran, the creature’s shriek following her down the stairs.

Michael and the old wizard were skimming across the lake toward the Countess’s boat. They’d found their own boat (“dinghy” was the word that occurred to Michael) abandoned on the shore.

“Ah, Providence!” Dr. Pym had exclaimed.

The boat’s oars proved unnecessary; Dr. Pym had merely whispered a few words, and the craft shot off, skipping over the surface of the water.

“But won’t they see us coming?” Michael was gripping the sides for support.

“Not to worry,” the wizard called back, the wind whipping away his words, “to the unfriendly eye, we will appear as no more than a patch of mist. Quiet now. We draw close.”

Their boat began to slow, and Michael could discern a pair of dark figures on the deck of the Countess’s ship. Dr. Pym said something under his breath, and to Michael’s surprise, the two black-clad forms suddenly grasped the railing and leapt into the water. He waited for them to emerge, but after a few moments the water settled and he knew they were gone.

Dr. Pym was tying their boat to a ladder bolted down the side of the ship.

“Quickly, my boy. The noise may bring others.”

Their feet were scarcely on the deck when Michael heard pounding boot heels and four morum cadi charged out of the darkness, two from either side. Dr. Pym took Michael’s arm and whispered, “Don’t move,” and the creatures were pulling their swords, close enough now that Michael could see the unearthly pallor of their skin, and he braced himself as blades flashed all around him, the clanging crashing against his ears, and just as Michael realized the Screechers were fighting each other and paying not the slightest attention to either him or Dr. Pym, all four fell, smoking and lifeless, to the deck.

He gaped at the wizard. “How did you do that?”

“Confusion and misdirection. The mainstay of any parlor magician. Come along now.” And he strode off down the deck.

They met two more of the Countess’s guards; the first they nearly collided with while rounding a corner. Before it could attack, Dr. Pym waved his hand, and the creature dropped its sword, sat down, and proceeded to stare off into space.

“Much better,” Dr. Pym said. “This way, I believe.”

He led Michael through a doorway and down two flights of narrow metal stairs to a hallway deep inside the ship where a single morum cadi stood guard over half a dozen doors. Dr. Pym muttered something inaudible, and the Screecher lowered his sword and his face broke into what Michael considered a fairly gruesome grin. Dr. Pym reached out and touched the creature’s lips.

The thing that used to be a man swallowed twice, flexed its jaw, and spoke.

“How can I help you, sir?”

The voice was stiff and croaking, as if it had not been used in a hundred years.

“How many of you are there on the boat?”

“Ten.”

“So there’s one more. No doubt on the bridge. And the Countess is in her cabin with the young lady?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very good. I take it you have the key to the children’s cells?”

It was then Michael finally heard the scared, muffled voices of the children. They echoed forth from either side of the hall. The children were calling out, crying, banging on the walls with their fists. The banging was so constant and steady he’d been mistaking it for the thrum and whine of the engine.

The creature drew a key out of its ragged tunic.

“I want you to open the doors, lead the children out in an orderly fashion, and help them into this young man’s boat. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

Dr. Pym turned to Michael. “I’m going to deal with the last of the morum cadi. Then I will find your sister. Ferry as many children as you can to the shore. You will have to make a few trips.”

“Okay.”

“I’m very proud of you, my boy.” He gave Michael’s shoulder a squeeze. Then, to the guard, “This young man is in charge. Do whatever he says,” and he was gone, disappearing up the metal stairs.

Michael looked up at the mottled green face of the Screecher. He took a deep breath, adjusted the badge Robbie had given him, and tried to sound confident.

“All right, let’s get them out. But stop smiling. It’s creepy.”

“Clare, allow me to introduce Katherine.…”

Even as he said their names, the wizard’s eyes were traveling between Kate’s face and her mother’s. She could see him making the connection, realizing who she was.

“… Katherine, this is Clare.…”

It seemed to Kate that time had slowed. It wasn’t magic. It was the fact of standing here as the wizard introduced her to her own mother.

Her mother was smiling now and saying something, but Kate could make no sense of the words.

Her mother put out her hand.

Kate looked down. Her own hand was stained with dirt and grime, and there was dried blood from where she’d cut herself on a rock. She suddenly realized how she must look; after all, she had not changed clothes in days, she’d run through a rainstorm, slept in a dungeon, swum across an underground channel, had a floor-rolling, ear-biting wrestling match with the Secretary; she felt the dirt and grease in her hair, the rips in her clothes, the fatigue that was no doubt showing in her eyes; she understood that her mother’s smile was one of pity for the poor creature before her.

“My hand’s dirty.”

“Oh please.” She clasped Kate’s filthy hand in both of hers. “It’s so nice to meet you, Katherine. You look as if you’ve had a very long journey. Can I get you anything? Water? Tea? I could heat up some hot chocolate. And ‘Katherine’ is so formal. Do you think I could call you Kate?”

Kate felt an enormous sob welling inside her. She’d waited for this moment for years; so why was it that all she wanted was to get the book and leave? She pulled her hand out of her mother’s and shook her head stiffly.

“No, I’m fine.”

Dr. Pym coughed. “I think the young lady came for this.” He reached onto the desk and lifted the Atlas.

“What is …” Her mother stopped herself, staring at the emerald-green tome. “… Is that … It can’t be.”

“Yet it is.”

“But, Stanislaus, you told us it was locked away! You said it was safe!”

“For the moment, that remains true. But apparently things are going to change. You see, this copy is from the future. And Katherine here, at great personal cost, brought it to me for safekeeping. Now, I can only assume, she has come to take her copy back.” He added, “Before it vanishes into thin air.”

“Yes, but—she’s just a child—”

“Clare—”

“Tell me you haven’t actually involved this poor girl!”

“These are desperate times. And it wasn’t me per se. Though future-me—”

“She’s a child, Stanislaus! Look at her! She can barely stand! Lord knows what she’s been through!”

“It’s okay,” Kate broke in. “I can do it. It’s okay. Really.”

“My dear”—Dr. Pym leaned forward in his chair—“I have to ask, is it safe?”

It was a logical question; of course Dr. Pym would want to know that the danger had passed before he gave her the book. But it caught Kate unawares, and in that moment, she felt his gaze sharpen. Luckily, she recovered quickly, sighing and letting the tension melt from her shoulders. “Everything’s fine. At last.” She even offered him a little smile.

“Very good,” said the wizard, and he handed over the Atlas.

She expected to feel the yank in her gut, to blink and find herself in the Countess’s cabin, but she held the book, heavy and familiar in her hands, and nothing happened.

“Now”—Dr. Pym stood—“I will leave you two alone.” And without giving Kate any indication of what she was supposed to do—tell her mother who she was, not tell—he was gone.

“I’m sorry,” her mother said the moment the door was closed, “but I am very, very upset. Not at you, of course. I’m angry at whoever pulled you into this. You’re much too young.”

Kate said nothing. She just stood there, the book clasped to her chest.

“I know I shouldn’t question Stanislaus. If he thinks you’re up to it, I have to believe him. He’s a great man, you know. Besides being a wizard and all that. Richard and I—Richard’s my husband—we’d both trust him with our lives.”

It was so peaceful in the room, with the fire beside them, the snow falling gently outside, Kate felt she could just lie down on the rug and go to sleep for years.

“Are you sure I can’t get you something?”

Kate shook her head.

“Where did Stanislaus go? Is he supposed to be sending you back to where … or whenever you’re from?”

“Last time it just sort of happened. I don’t know why it’s not now.”

“You know, Richard and I have been involved in the search for the Books of Beginning for quite a while now. With Stanislaus, of course. Is that really the Atlas?”

She leaned in, and Kate smelled her perfume. She knew it immediately. The years seemed to slip away, and Kate could hear her mother’s voice, asking her to protect her brother and sister, promising that one day they would meet again. Kate felt something inside her break open.

“My … brother and sister and I found it.”

“You have a brother and sister? What are their names?”

Kate looked down, unable to meet her mother’s gaze.

“You’re in trouble, aren’t you? Is Dr. Pym helping you? In the future, I mean. Oh dear, does that even make sense? What about your parents? You really are so young.”

Kate felt her eyes welling with tears, and she bit her lower lip to keep from crying.

“Oh, you poor thing …”

And before Kate realized what was happening, her mother had stepped forward and was holding her. There was no stopping the sobs. They quaked through her body as if all the tears dammed up over a decade had suddenly broken free. Kate found herself crying for the times she’d held a sobbing Emma or Michael and promised them that yes, their parents were coming back; she cried for the missed Christmases and birthdays, for the childhood she’d never had; she collapsed into her mother’s body, letting herself be held, crying, finally, because this was her own mother, stroking her hair and murmuring, “It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay.…”

Then, abruptly, her mother’s hand stopped. Kate didn’t move; she could tell something had happened. Her mother took a step back, holding Kate by the arms while staring deep into her eyes.

“Oh my … Are you … You’re—”

Kate felt the tug in her stomach, and the scene vanished. She was never to hear those next words. But even so, Kate knew that in that last moment, her mother had recognized her own daughter.

“You see, my dear,” said the Countess, lifting the book from Kate’s hands, “I knew you could do it.”