The Secrets of Winterhouse

by Ben Guterson

  “I want it,” she whispered. “I want it for myself.”

  Like a clanging bell interrupting her sleep, Norbridge’s words suddenly sounded in her ears: We have to keep the faith. Hold it up in any light.

  Elizabeth shook her head, could hardly believe she’d thought to keep the charm for herself. In that momentary shock, the flashlight fell from her hand. It clattered on the ground with a tinny echo, the light blinked out, and Elizabeth found herself in a blackness deep and absolute. An instant panic ran through her, a confusion made worse by the intense darkness. She took a deep breath, calmed her nerves, and took stock of herself: I will not be afraid, she thought.

  Elizabeth reached out a hand to get her bearings against the wall, and then she knelt and scrabbled around until she felt the flashlight by her feet. She pressed the switch with her thumb, and to her infinite relief, the light came on. The humming noise was louder than ever, like the sound of an endless breeze pushing through a canyon, steady and fierce. Elizabeth stood and scanned all around with the light, shining it behind her and then along the passageway ahead.

  I must be close, she thought.

  She continued, following the humming noise, scanning with her flashlight all the while. And then she stopped.

  Something was in the passageway before her, a silhouetted shape that looked like a person standing motionless in the blackness.

  CHAPTER 32

  THE SECRET OF WINTERHOUSE HOURS

  Elizabeth drew closer. There, before her, was something human in form and as tall as her, covered by a thin sheet flecked with streaks of dust. The noise grew louder.

  She came to a stop a few steps away and examined it. Until she removed the sheet, the mystery of what it was would remain. She kept her light on it, uncertain what to do.

  Words sounded in her head above the endless humming: Why don’t you take a look?

  Elizabeth let out a cry of surprise and fright. Gracella’s voice had whispered to her, and she felt a shock of fear ignite her skin. She turned and looked in all directions.

  “Where are you!” Elizabeth called. The humming ceased. She felt frantic and was sure something awful was about to happen. “Gracella, I know you’re here somewhere!”

  Her voice echoed eerily upon the walls, trotted away down the chambers in both directions, and then died in the darkness. Elizabeth’s breath fogged around her in thick clouds, and she kept turning to look left and right, waiting. She was sure at any moment Gracella would charge at her, that a bolt of light would come flying in her direction. She stood listening and considered that she’d been foolish to have yelled, that by calling to Gracella she might have done the one thing that would reveal her location.

  She swept her light all around once again, listened for a sound, and then turned to the sheet-covered thing beside her. The pendant around her neck felt warm. She put a hand to where it lay and pressed it to her skin. The humming noise arced up into a high drone as it resumed, so loud suddenly that it was almost deafening.

  Elizabeth took a corner of the thin sheet and lifted it up and away as simply as removing a silk scarf from the back of a chair. There, unveiled now, stood a sculpture made of ice. It was a girl in an ornate evening dress, the expression on her face inscrutable and calm, looking for all the world like someone who had perhaps moved to a balcony during an evening ball to take in a moment of silence and night air. The girl’s eyes seemed fixed on something in the distance, and strangest of all, her arms were lifted to hold, just before her, what appeared to be a small mirror, itself made of ice. She was posed in some stance where she looked to be signaling to someone or reflecting something unseen. And then it struck Elizabeth: The figure looked like her mother.

  Elizabeth was stunned by the sculpture; she found it so unexpected and also so beautiful, and the fact that it seemed to be her mother was startling. She nearly forgot she was alone in a dark mine far beneath Winterhouse. The beam from her flashlight fell upon the mirror, creating a yellow-white splash of light. Elizabeth looked at her own reflection in it, a deeply polished plane of ice that captured her image almost as faithfully as the mirror in her room. She studied her face and then ran her eyes across the length of the sculpture. With a glance behind her, she shined the flashlight all around to make sure no one was approaching, and then she circled the sculpture to take in every fold and angle of the dress and the long waves of hair. She cast the light over every part of the figure, looked her up and down, and looked at her own self reflected in the mirror once again; then she stood completely still and tried to consider what to do next.

  Where is the charm? she thought. This can’t be it.

  The humming noise grew louder; the pendant’s warmth increased slightly, and Elizabeth placed her hand upon her sweater above it once again. She stared into the mirror, and the sound grew louder still. The first lines of the poem came to her: The charm seems such a common thing / In form as simple as a ring.

  She slid the pendant from her neck and examined it in the pale light; she studied the indigo disk with the word “Faith” etched into it. The most obvious thing about it—its roundness—struck her anew: The same shape as a ring, she thought. And then she looked into the mirror and saw herself reflected, only now she was rimmed in a crimson light and the image of the pendant was glowing deep red. Its might is all but hidden till / It sees itself in glass you fill.

  For a split second her mind was flooded with the thought that she was looking into the glass of the mirror. And then her mind went blank. All Elizabeth felt was an intense sensation of excitement and strength surging through her. It was like the feeling she was so familiar with by now, but it was more powerful by magnitudes, as though something at the core of her had opened up and expanded and was pulsing outward in all directions. The sculpture and the walls around her were bright and starkly outlined, buzzing with an electric brightness.

  The humming noise had accelerated to a high, charging, insistent noise that, rather than distracting from the surging of her body and the blinding light all around, added to it. Everything—what she felt, what she saw, what she heard—became a thousand times more alive than she’d ever known. She clenched her hand around the pendant, pressed her eyes closed as she lowered her head to it, pushed her fist to her forehead, and stood, vibrating with the most intense emotion of her life.

  Elizabeth didn’t know how long she remained that way, but after a time something ebbed slightly and she lowered her hand. She opened it to stare at the pendant and then her reflection in the mirror. The words of the charm came to her, the first clear thought she’d had since that moment she’d stared into the mirror: Then alters to an object strong / Its power used for right or wrong. It all made sense. The charm had been around her neck the entire time, for years, ever since her mother had left it with her. Elizabeth had only needed to have the pendant reflected in this strange mirror for it to finally become the thing it was meant to be: an object of power, hers and hers alone. She had figured out the secret of the second object. She had uncovered the riddle of the rhyme on the plaques and made her way through the maze of the secret passageway—and now the power was hers.

  “Well done, Elizabeth.”

  She turned from where she stood beside the ice sculpture. There, not twenty steps away—silver-haired, eyes burning crimson, and wearing the same black cape she’d had on the last time Elizabeth had seen her in the Winterhouse library—stood Gracella Winters, enveloped in a thin red light. Selena Hiems—still in appearance like the aged Mrs. Vesper—stood beside her, the two of them looking to Elizabeth with uncanny leers on their faces, while Elana loomed behind.

  “The charm,” Gracella said. “It is yours.”

  CHAPTER 33

  A DECISION MADE DOMAINS

  Elizabeth stared at them in a daze. All she wanted to do was keep the pendant pressed within the palm of her hand, wanted to maintain that feeling she had experienced, wanted to keep it hers forever. She held the necklace, felt the power racing through her. And then, for a
fraction of a second, an image of Freddy, lying in pain on the ground, came to her. She shook her head and gripped the pendant more tightly. Selena and Gracella continued to stare with a weird frenzy in their eyes; Elana, though, appeared perplexed—scared, even.

  “Elizabeth,” Selena said, “now that you know how it feels, join us.”

  “The power is yours,” Gracella said. “All yours.”

  “It’s magnificent,” Selena said, her eyes bright with hunger. “Tell her, Elana!”

  “Yes,” Elana said slowly, stepping forward to join the others. “Yes … magnificent.”

  “The four of us,” Gracella said. “Forever. Think of that, Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth only barely heard their words. She stared at the three of them but felt everything was passing in a dream. She wanted to move but also wanted to stay in place; she wanted to speak but also wanted to remain silently holding the pendant. The flashlight in her hand lit a circle around her; beyond that, all was black aside from the ghostly red glow around Gracella herself. The rock chamber was quiet. Elizabeth studied the three before her.

  The words of the rhyme filled Elizabeth: The holder, heeding silent voice / Alone must make the fateful choice. An indistinct image of Norbridge arose in her mind. Perhaps he was in his apartment, looking for her, worried about her. It faded.

  “I have to choose,” Elizabeth said weakly.

  “There’s no choice,” Gracella said, and she took a step forward. “There’s only the power. You have it now. Share it with me, share it with us.” She took another step toward Elizabeth. “Join with me. You have the power of the charm now, and I need you. I need your power.”

  “Don’t come any closer!” Elizabeth said, and Gracella halted. She looked stricken suddenly, a touch weakened, but she stood glaring at Elizabeth. Selena, appearing older than before, stared with fearful eyes. Elana, all in white, was breathing so heavily her chest heaved. The three of them seemed scared—they were waiting for her to make some decision.

  “What do you want from me?” Elizabeth said, holding her clenched fist before her.

  “You have immense power now that you’ve brought the necklace to life,” Gracella said. “If you share that magic with us, it will … sustain us. It will help us in ways you would have to witness to understand.” She gestured wildly. “Just look at the sculpture. It’s you! Riley Granger surely left it here. He knew you would appear one day to claim what was yours. Now let me help you, let me guide you. It’s what you want.”

  Elizabeth looked at the three of them warily. She allowed her mind to clear as she summoned the feeling from deep inside her. Only now, with the pendant in her hand, it was more intense than ever. The walls of the mine began to shake as Elizabeth focused on them; several fist-size chunks of rock broke free and crashed to the ground before the three women.

  “I told you, don’t come any closer!” Elizabeth yelled.

  Selena put out a hand to steady herself, and Elana turned to her with worry in her eyes.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Elizabeth said, looking to Selena. “What’s happening?”

  Gracella didn’t move her gaze from Elizabeth. “She is faltering. It’s all ending for her. Unless you help her, help all of us. If you share what you have gained, she can be restored.”

  “My aunt…” Elana said to Elizabeth, her eyes pleading. She stepped forward.

  “Please, dear,” Selena said weakly, stepping toward Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth closed her eyes; she felt she couldn’t keep them open, and somewhere in the darkness, she thought she heard Leona speaking, though she couldn’t make out the words.

  Elizabeth opened her eyes and the vision fled. “How are you even alive?” she said to Gracella. One part of her felt that Gracella was somehow making sense, that now that she had awakened the charm and felt its power, Gracella’s words connected to the feeling she had experienced. Maybe Gracella could help her, maybe she had been mistaken about her all along.

  Gracella took another step forward, stealthily, as if walking upon a floor she wanted to keep from creaking. “Join us,” she said.

  “How are you alive?” Elizabeth yelled. “Tell me!”

  Gracella stood still. “My daughter gave part of herself to me. My dear Selena … sacrificed some of her own power to sustain me.”

  “You took years of her life,” Elizabeth shouted, “and you killed Marcus, too.” She took in a breath and focused again on the walls of the mine. A rumbling sound arose, and a huge chunk of rock broke off and slammed to pieces in front of the three women. Elizabeth tightened her grip on the pendant and thought of the strange poem once more: The holder, heeding silent voice / Alone must make the fateful choice. She squeezed the pendant, and a fleeting, unaccountable notion came to her that it didn’t really matter that Gracella had killed Marcus. With a shake of her head, she wondered how that awful thought had entered her mind.

  “There are some necessary sacrifices to be made along the way,” Gracella said.

  “Please, Elizabeth,” Elana said, clasping her hands before her. She stumbled forward another two steps. “Please, help me…”

  Gracella turned sharply to Elana. “Be quiet!” she yelled, and in that moment Elizabeth finally understood that Elana had joined the other two unwillingly; probably all along she had been reluctant to advance the schemes of Selena and Gracella.

  Selena moved a step closer. The three women were only a few feet before her, Elizabeth realized. Selena looked to Elana with woeful eyes and appeared about to say something but was too weak to form words.

  “Choose us,” Gracella said, “choose what you’re feeling right now. Simple, so easy.”

  Elizabeth’s head began to pound; the pain had returned worse than ever. There was a choice to make, a decision, but she couldn’t figure out what it was or how to solve it. Suddenly her vision clouded with images of Norbridge and Freddy and Leona, and the pendant in her hand grew cold. She saw Jackson and Sampson; an image of her aunt and uncle flitted before her, and then the paintings from the gallery of her mother and her grandmother seemed to hover indistinctly within her gaze. She saw all of them as she stood clutching the necklace.

  Gracella let out a gasp, heaved forward violently before standing erect again and arranging her cape about her. She breathed heavily.

  “Keep your mind on the power!” she yelled, and she snapped her eyes closed and raised both hands to the side of her head. She looked like someone trying to block out all sound and maintain a single thought. The strain pinched her face—her lips were tight, and her jaw was clenched. Her hands began to vibrate beside her head, and her body shook.

  “Mother!” Selena cried out. She looked terrified, ambushed by pain and confusion, and she reached a hand in Gracella’s direction; but Gracella simply stood, oblivious to all around her. “Mother, please!” Selena cried. “Stop!” She staggered in place.

  Elizabeth looked at Elana, who appeared not to know where she was. Her face was dull, like someone who’d been drugged. She looked sluggish, and her black hair drooped around her face; all the life had gone out of it. Her arms dangled at her sides. She seemed asleep standing up, the cries of Selena and the weird stance of Gracella not registering with her at all.

  The pendant was a dull lump in Elizabeth’s hand, and she uncurled her fingers from around it. Gracella opened her eyes and shot her hands outward, and a tremendous blast of red light exploded from her. Elizabeth turned away—and when she looked again, she saw something that didn’t make sense: Selena was a crumpled shape on the ground, a trickle of blood at her mouth; where Elana had stood was now an old woman, dressed in the same white clothes Elana had worn but with an aged face and white hair. Gracella stood between them, the look on her face cruel and severe.

  “Do you see how much they care for me?” Gracella said slowly. “How much they are willing to sacrifice for me?”

  Elizabeth held the pendant loosely; it was cold and lifeless.

  “You killed your own daughter?” she s
aid in a whisper. “To keep yourself alive?”

  Gracella lowered her eyes into a cold glare. “They give willingly, which is what you should do. Join me and let me use your power, and you and I can’t be stopped.”

  “I thought it was all four of us,” Elizabeth said.

  Elana begin to move, held up her hands to stare at them; an expression of horrified disbelief took over her face. “No!” she wailed, a terrible noise that echoed miserably off the rock walls. “No!” She extended her hands to Gracella. “Look what you’ve done to me!”

  “Shut up!” Gracella screamed, turning to her. “You were useless anyway!” She took a step toward Elizabeth. “Do you see what you’ve made me do? All because of your selfishness!”

  Elizabeth shook her head and was about to speak, but all she could think was that in Gracella’s words and the sound of her voice and the look on her face—all of it was everything she never wanted from anyone, the anger and fighting and accusations and screaming.

  “I didn’t do any of it,” Elizabeth said. “You caused it. Because you want this thing!” She held up the pendant. “You’re willing to hurt people to get it, just to have more power.”

  “You have no idea what’s at stake,” Gracella said. “Choose the power! Say it, feel it in your mind, in your heart!”

  Gracella’s words echoed in Elizabeth’s ears. It had been awesome to possess the secret of the necklace during those minutes after she’d held it to the mirror; the thought of having that sensation again, of going deeper with it in some way that Gracella was suggesting, was nearly overpowering. A small thought of Norbridge and Freddy and Leona and all the rest came to her again, and it restrained her from clamping her fingers around the pendant and making some simple and instant assent in her mind that would secure the power of the necklace for herself.