13 Treasures

by Michelle Harrison

  Tanya said nothing. She had suspected as much all along.

  “When we found out who the girl we’d seen in the woods that day really was, I got desperate,” Fabian continued. “After I told you about Morwenna that night, I stayed on the second floor and waited until Amos left his room to use the bathroom—I knew that it would give me a couple of minutes to look around—he takes ages moving around these days. I waited in the alcove—it seemed like I’d been there for hours by the time he finally emerged. As soon as he was out of sight I crept into his room.”

  “What were you looking for?” Tanya asked.

  “Anything,” said Fabian. “Anything… that might suggest his innocence… or his guilt.”

  “If the police cleared him, do you honestly think you’d be able to find anything after all this time?”

  “I don’t know.” Fabian closed his eyes. “It was awful. There was junk everywhere… stacks of old newspapers… clothes he hasn’t worn for years, and probably never will again. Gifts he’s never opened… still in the wrapping paper. I’ve heard my father telling Florence about how he won’t have anything thrown away, but I didn’t realize to what extent. I found some really creepy stuff…” he broke off and shuddered.

  “Like what?”

  “A lock of hair.” Seeing the alarmed look on Tanya’s face he quickly added, “Don’t worry, it’s not yours. It’s too dark. It was in a box with his wedding ring and some photos of my grandmother, and other stuff that belonged to her. It must have been hers—she was dark.

  “It was so cluttered in there it was hard to think straight. I was just about to give up and leave when I found something. A scrapbook of newspaper clippings, all about Morwenna—dozens of them. There was even one dating back to before she disappeared.”

  “Why would she be in the paper before she’d disappeared?”

  “She’d won a local talent competition—apparently she had a gift for poetry.”

  “She must have written the poem I found,” Tanya said slowly. “But that doesn’t explain how it came to be in my room.” She frowned. “So then what happened?”

  “I started reading through the clippings,” said Fabian. “But I must have been in there longer than I thought because Amos came back… and found me.”

  “He hit you?”

  “He started screaming at me to get out,” said Fabian. “I froze at first. And then when I tried to get past him to get out of the room, well… I think it must have scared him. He struck out at me. And… and the worst of it is… I don’t think he even recognized me anymore.”

  Neither of them said much for a while after that. There were no words that would bring any comfort to Fabian, and they both knew it.

  From the hallway, the grandfather clock chimed the hour, breaking the silence.

  “Warwick will be leaving soon,” Fabian said in a low voice.

  “Are you prepared?” Tanya asked.

  “I’ve got the map, flashlight, and all that kind of stuff.”

  “I’ve got the compass, and an old iron nail to carry in my pocket. And I’ve also sewn a couple of salt pouches to carry in our pockets as extra protection. If any fairies attack you, break the pouches open and throw it at them. I’ll need a lock of your hair too, in case… you know.”

  “In case we get trapped in the fairy realm,” Fabian finished grimly.

  Tanya nodded and hurriedly continued. “Try to wear something red if you can.”

  “I don’t have anything red.”

  “Then turn your clothes inside out. And whatever you do, don’t forget the tonic that Morag gave you.” She quickly moved on as Fabian gave her a scornful look.

  “We need to leave earlier than we did last time if we’re going to make use of the in-between. We have to find Morwenna before then, so we can lead her out of the fairy realm at the stroke of midnight—that’s when it’s most easily accessible.”

  Fabian nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll make sure my watch is absolutely accurate before we leave. I’ll set the alarm to go off at midnight.”

  Tanya felt a prickle of fear at what was to come. It seemed they had thought of everything. Yet still she failed to trust that it would be enough.

  The morning dragged on. Warwick left while it was still early. After loading a stack of hunting supplies into the Land Rover, he drove noisily through the gates and onto the dirt road, away from Elvesden Manor.

  At midday, Tanya looked at the clock on the landing.

  Twelve hours to go.

  Throughout the day Oberon was restless, sensing her unease. He seemed unable to keep still for more than a few minutes at a time and wandered from room to room, only adding to Tanya’s trepidation. Finally, the sun slipped down in the sky until it disappeared altogether, leaving darkness to wrap around the manor like a heavy blanket. The grandfather clock ticked on.

  The house was still and quiet. Tanya edged down the stairs. On the landing Spitfire was fast asleep at the foot of the grandfather clock, splayed out like a matted ginger rug. She sidestepped him and proceeded toward the darkened kitchen, where a low rumbling noise caused her to pause before she realized that the noise was Oberon snoring. She was just about to step into the kitchen when the sound of smashing glass came from a nearby room.

  Her eyes darted across the hallway. A sliver of light was visible from below the living room door. She caught Florence’s exclamation of annoyance. Tanya slipped into the kitchen and hid in the first place she could think of: under the large oak table. Oberon looked up at her lazily from his basket, and for one awful moment it looked as if he was going to come over and give her away.

  “Stay!” Tanya hissed.

  Oberon stayed.

  The door opened and Florence came into the hallway, grumbling in a low voice. She fumbled about, banging and clattering in one of the cupboards, then plodded back to the living room. Tanya listened as shards of broken glass were swept up, and then Florence came into the kitchen, her dowdy slippers just visible from where Tanya sat crouched under the tablecloth. Her grandmother threw the broken glass into the trash, then left, turning the hallway light off. The slap of her slippers was audible on the carpet as she shuffled upstairs.

  Tanya closed her eyes in relief. She climbed out from under the table, her legs shaky beneath her, and went over to Oberon, who was now looking very puzzled as to her odd behavior. From her pocket she pulled out the red beaded scarf and wrapped it around his neck, tucking the loose ends into his collar. The two of them slipped out into the cool night air, through the garden, and onward toward the gate.

  Fabian was waiting on the other side, silent and paler in the face than usual. He jumped when Oberon stuck his wet nose into the palm of his hand in greeting, then regarded the dog strangely.

  “Isn’t that your scarf he’s wearing?”

  “He needs protecting too,” Tanya said stiffly.

  “Well, I don’t think red is his color,” Fabian cracked.

  Tanya was too anxious to force a laugh. “Just keep quiet,” she said. “We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”

  Fabian shut up immediately, his hand straying subconsciously to the top of his head as if remembering the raven’s attack on their last attempt to enter the woods.

  They began to walk to the forest, Oberon bounding off ahead. He was getting rather accustomed to these late night walks by now.

  It was a clear night. A crescent moon hung in the inky sky above them, and the stars glittered like a gauzy silver veil. Tanya folded her arms tightly around herself, glad she had dressed warmly. Over jeans and her only red T-shirt she had chosen to wear the old raincoat, the same one she had worn on the night of the storm. In the right pocket of the coat she had the compass and the iron nail; in her left, the scissors that Morag had given her, and a small cloth bag of salt.

  As they approached the brook Fabian paused to squint around in the darkness.

  “What’s the matter?” Tanya asked.

  “Nothing,” Fabian muttered.

  �
��Tell me.”

  “I’ve just… just got a feeling we’re being followed. Don’t look. Let’s just get into the forest.”

  “Have you seen someone?”

  “No, I haven’t seen anything,” said Fabian. “It’s just a feeling. Keep moving.”

  They walked briskly, neither of them attempting to make conversation. Too soon they were at the brook, the forest sprawling before them.

  “Where’s the flashlight?” Tanya asked.

  “It’s in the knapsack,” said Fabian. “I’ll get it out once we’re in the forest—the light could be seen from here.” He crossed the brook and Tanya followed, the water rushing past her feet as she struggled to see the slippery stepping stones. Within minutes they stood on the border of the forest.

  Fabian took off his rucksack and knelt on the ground. He pulled out the flashlight and the map, then Morag’s tonic. Quickly, he removed the stopper and anointed both eyes.

  “What time is it?” Tanya asked.

  Fabian hoisted the bag up on his back. “Thirty-one minutes to midnight. We have to hurry.”

  Wordlessly they walked into the trees. Within the forest, the only sound was the dry rustle of dead leaves underfoot as they shuffled through. Tanya followed Fabian several yards into the woods, and almost went tumbling to the ground after tripping on a fallen branch. Finally Fabian flicked the flashlight on.

  “Do you still think we’re being followed?” Tanya asked in a low voice. “If we are the light will give us away.”

  Fabian’s eyes flickered from side to side.

  “I don’t know. But we have to use the flashlight now. We won’t get far without it.”

  He unfolded the map and squinted at it. “We should head to the second catacomb—that’s where we saw her before, so it makes sense that we might see her there again.” He tapped the map. “It’s not far; we should see the first catacomb coming up fairly soon.”

  They headed off, the forest eerily quiet. Occasionally the yellow eyes of nocturnal creatures stared at them out of the darkness. After a short distance, Tanya exclaimed as something heavy hit her leg.

  “What is it?” said Fabian.

  “It’s the compass,” said Tanya. “It’s fallen through a hole in my pocket into the lining of my coat. The nail must have pierced it and made a hole—it’s gone through too.”

  “Give it here,” said Fabian. “I’ll put it in my bag—it’ll be safe there.”

  With some difficulty, Tanya squeezed her hand through the hole into the coat lining and retrieved the compass, but she was unable to locate the iron nail. It would have to stay there. “Make sure you put it somewhere secure,” she said, handing the compass to Fabian. “If we lose it we’ll only have the map to rely on.”

  They carried on walking farther into the trees, until they were so far in that Tanya was beginning to get the horrible feeling that they were going the wrong way. Seemingly out of nowhere the first catacomb came into sight.

  Fabian broke into a jog, heading past the railings.

  “This way!” he called over his shoulder. “It can’t be far now!”

  Tanya ran after him, straining to keep sight of the flickering flashlight as he sprinted ahead. “Slow down! I can’t see!”

  Very soon they came into a small clearing.

  “This is where we saw her,” said Fabian. He aimed his flashlight at the dense trees surrounding them, his hand shaking with adrenaline.

  “Are you sure?” said Tanya. “I don’t see the railings—perhaps this is a different clearing.”

  Fabian consulted the map. “But I’m sure this is it—it must be.”

  “Look,” said Tanya suddenly, pointing past a thick tree. “Shine the flashlight over there.”

  Fabian held the flashlight up, and a flash of silver glinted through the trees.

  “There it is.”

  As they edged closer to the railings, a chilling sound cut through the air.

  “What’s that noise?” said Fabian, his eyes darting about fearfully.

  “It sounds like somebody… crying,” Tanya murmured.

  Fabian crept forward and Tanya followed, her heart hammering hard in her chest. Past the railings, sitting at the foot of a tree, a dark figure was hunched over and hugging her knees. Her long, black hair spilled to the ground where foxgloves were growing in abundance, swaying softly in the night air.

  “It’s her,” said Fabian. “It’s Morwenna Bloom.”

  Tanya stepped forward and a twig snapped under her foot, but the girl did not look up. Instead she continued to sob into her hands.

  “Morwenna,” Fabian called, finding his voice at last. “Morwenna Bloom!”

  At the sound of her name the girl looked up, and Tanya was startled to see that she wasn’t crying after all—she was laughing.

  “You found me,” she said, standing up and brushing the leaves from her dress. She looked exactly the same, barely a day older than in the photograph.

  “We know what happened to you all those years ago,” said Tanya. “And… and we’ve come to help you.” She couldn’t believe how easy it had been to find the girl… almost too easy.

  “You’ve come to help me? How?”

  “We want to help you find a way out of here,” said Tanya. Suddenly, and for reasons she could not fathom, she became frightened. In the eerie moonlight, Morwenna looked almost wraithlike. Tanya took the scissors out of the raincoat and stuck them in the back pocket of her jeans, then offered her coat to the girl. “Take this. It’ll protect you.”

  Morwenna took a step toward them, a strange little smile playing on her lips as she took the raincoat. “And what do you have to protect yourself, I wonder?”

  A low, rumbling growl had begun in Oberon’s throat. Tanya looked down and saw that the dog’s hackles were raised, and his body was completely rigid. He had placed himself directly between Tanya and Morwenna.

  It was then that Tanya knew there was something horribly, terribly wrong.

  “Protect me from what?”

  Morwenna stared at her with glassy, coal-black eyes.

  “Protect you from me, of course.”

  For a moment Tanya thought she had misheard.

  “Do you know why I’m here?” Morwenna’s voice was high, singsong. It chilled Tanya’s blood.

  “I’m here because of something that happened fifty years ago. And now, the only thing that can set me free is the debt that is owed me.”

  “What debt?” said Fabian. “What are you talking about?”

  Morwenna smiled then. A cold, twisted smile. “The debt is from a friend of long ago.” She looked Tanya directly in the eye. “Your grandmother.”

  “What?” said Tanya, backing away. “I don’t understand!”

  “Of course you don’t. How could you? You see, Florence and I had… an understanding, many years ago, a pact, if you like. I kept my part of the promise, but Florence did not. Now she has to pay the price.”

  “And what is the price?” said Tanya, dreading what she was about to hear next.

  Morwenna took another step toward her. “You are.”

  23

  Tanya wanted to run, but was prevented from doing so by a combination of sheer, gut-wrenching fear and a morbid desire to hear more. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Fabian, frozen to the spot.

  “I… I still don’t understand.”

  “Then let me explain,” Morwenna hissed. “A long time ago you and I were not so different. Lonely… misunderstood… as you know, friendship does not come easily to those like us.”

  “Those with the second sight,” said Tanya.

  Morwenna smiled. “Yes. Those with the second sight. But then I did find a friend—someone who understood me, and whom I understood in turn because we were the same. That person was your grandmother.”

  “My grandmother doesn’t have the second sight. You’re lying.”

  “Am I?” said Morwenna. “The look on your face tells me you might not be quite so sure. I know Florence. She w
ould have hidden it well. She would have wanted to protect you from the truth, from this. She pushed you away to do that. My guess is that the two of you aren’t exactly close.”

  Tanya stared, dumbfounded, then lowered her eyes.

  Morwenna laughed. “Just as I thought. Ever wonder why you weren’t welcome? Why she didn’t want you around? Well, you’re about to find out.”

  “Why are you saying all this?” Tanya whispered. “What does any of this have to do with me?”

  “It has everything to do with you. You’ve got your grandmother to thank for that.” Morwenna twisted a strand of black hair around her finger. “Florence and I were best friends. Inseparable. We did everything together. However, her parents allowed her more freedom than mine allowed me.” Her face darkened. “My father could be very… difficult. The honorable Reverend Bloom… or at least, that’s what it looked like from the outside.

  “The reality was somewhat different. He was a dominating, controlling man. I had to beg to be let out of the house on some occasions. One day, we were walking in the forest, Florence and I,” Morwenna scowled. “I was upset. My father had revealed his plans to have me sent away to a new boarding school in London when the summer ended. Florence begged me not to go; it would mean her losing the only friend she’d ever known. I didn’t want to go either, and so we began to talk of running away.

  “We had been talking for a while when we realized we were not alone. We were being watched… and listened to.”

  “The fairies,” Tanya said slowly.

  “They made an offer to us both, a way out of our problems. A place where nobody would find us, nothing could harm us, and we would never grow old. The fairy realm.”

  “But they took you…” said Tanya. “They led you astray… they trapped you…”

  Morwenna continued to speak as if she had not heard.

  “It was my chance of escape—but Florence was not so sure. She was torn between coming with me and staying with her family, but we did not have much time. The fairies had given us until Midsummer’s eve to make our choice. I pleaded with Florence for days, but still she could not decide. Then, the day before Midsummer’s eve, she had an argument with her parents in which terrible things were said. After that she made her decision—we vowed to leave and never return.