Hawthorn

by Carol Goodman

  I couldn’t sleep. Daisy and I found blankets to cover up the sleeping boys and then I studied the maps that Sam had drawn of the Grosvenor Hotel and Victoria Station. Near dawn Raven flew back through the fog, his wings dripping with water that smelled like fish and sewage.

  “Can the selkies help us?” I asked, pulling him toward the fire to dry off.

  He shook his head, ruffling his feathers to shake the water out. “They have their hands full as it is. The channel between England and France is choked with some kind of netting that’s trapping selkies and other mer-creatures. It either drowns them or, worse, clings to their skin and changes them.”

  “Like the shadow net on Helen,” Marlin said.

  “Yes, I think so. If those nets are there when the war begins they could destroy the whole British navy. The selkies are looking for a way to get rid of them. Did you find anything at the library, Mr. Omar?”

  Omar had returned a few hours ago with a stack of books that he and Sam and Agnes had been avidly consulting since then. He looked up now from a heavy volume. “We’ve found references to the shadow net but not how to destroy it without killing its host, but we’ll keep looking.”

  “Maybe Nathan’s right,” Marlin said. “Maybe the only way to free Helen is to give van Drood the location of the vessel.”

  “And what guarantee would we have that van Drood would remove the shadow net even if we did give it to him?” Agnes asked. “Or that he wouldn’t steal Helen again and enslave her once he unleashed the shadows from the third vessel? Once he has all the shadows at his command he will be able to enslave us all. Tell him, Ava, tell him what the world looked like after van Drood opened the third vessel.”

  I looked at Marlin and saw frustration and rage in his eyes. “It’s true,” I said. “It won’t be a world where Helen—or any of us—will be safe. The human race will be enslaved in soulless factories. Scavenging airships will rule the skies where Darklings once flew free. We met you there, Marlin, and you told me yourself that you would do anything to change what had happened in the ten years after the vessel was broken. That it would be worth any sacrifice. You were even willing to let Helen go.”

  Marlin held my gaze, eyes burning, hands balled into fists. Ready for a fight. I thought for a moment that he was going to attack me—I felt Raven tense beside me, ready to fly at his friend—but then something changed in him. The spark in his eyes stilled and became a steadier blaze. I remembered how he had looked when I met him in the future, how he had grown into a man, and I thought I saw the beginning of that man here.

  “Very well,” he said. “I’m willing to sacrifice myself, but not Helen.”

  “We won’t let Helen come to any harm,” Raven assured him. “You know Ava wouldn’t let anything happen to her. We’ll get her away from Drood to a safe place and Omar will find a way to free her of the shadow net. Then the rest of you must keep Drood occupied while Ava and I fly to the Ardennes. Hopefully Mr. Bellows will already have alerted the keeper of the third vessel that its safety is threatened. We’ll assemble an army there to protect it from Drood.”

  “An honor guard,” Collie said, having awoken from his sleep. “Like the knights of King Arthur.”

  The boys awoke then, excited by the talk of knights and battles. I retreated to the tea table to brew hot tea to fortify us all for the day ahead. I couldn’t argue with Raven’s plan, but it made me uneasy. “When armies amass,” Mr. Bellows had once told our class, “war is sure to follow.” And I was troubled by another thought. What if we couldn’t stop Helen from marrying van Drood? Should we warn Nathan and stop him from trading the location of the third vessel for Helen? If Helen was truly lost, should we sacrifice her for the good of the world?

  Dawn came with little change in the monotonous gray fog, but at half past ten the fog suddenly rose from Belgrave Square, like a curtain going up at the theater, just as the door of Number Twelve opened and Helen, her mother, and van Drood stepped out. Van Drood was heavily muffled in his Inverness cape and Homburg hat. Helen was still dressed head to toe in black, the awful veil attached to her face, but she carried an incongruous- looking bouquet of violets, which trembled in the watery sunlight. Her bridal bouquet.

  “She always said she wanted a bouquet of orange blossoms and lilies of the valley,” Daisy said. “And a dress of peau de Chine trimmed with point d’Angleterre.”

  “She’ll get those someday,” I told Daisy, squeezing her hand. “We won’t let this be Helen’s wedding day.”

  Omar and Kid Marvel had left an hour earlier to get the boys stationed in their roles of bellhops and porters. Sam was waiting downstairs for us at the wheel of a Daimler motorcar to follow the “bridal party” in case they went somewhere other than the Grosvenor. We drove in silence, all our eyes fastened on the Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost that carried Helen, Mrs. van Beek, and Judicus van Drood.

  “I don’t see any escort,” Sam said. “If I rammed into their car we could grab Helen and make a run for it right now.”

  “I think it’s better if we stick to the plan,” Agnes said, touching Sam’s arm. At Agnes’s touch Sam’s shoulders relaxed and I realized how tense he was. We all were. I felt like hot wires were running up my spine and into my wings. It took every ounce of willpower to keep my wings from bursting out. I, too, wanted to ram the smug-looking Rolls, grab Helen, and fly away. But Agnes was right.

  “Van Drood could have watchers posted along the street. We’re better off waiting to take her at the Grosvenor where we have backup and we can get her right onto a train.”

  We continued down Upper Belgrave Street to Lower Belgrave Street and took a left on Buckingham Palace Road.

  “Are we near Buckingham Palace?” Daisy asked, peering out the window. “I’d love to see it!”

  “When Helen’s all better we’ll go on a tour to see the sights,” Agnes said. “Look, you can see Victoria Station! And there’s the Grosvenor. Van Drood’s car is stopping in front.”

  I saw Helen getting out, taking the hand of the footman briefly, then standing ramrod straight and remote as her mother preened and rustled in her violet silks. Helen turned her head, looking over the roof of the Rolls at the street, until she was looking directly at us. I couldn’t see her eyes behind the veil but was certain that she saw us. Would she tell van Drood we were there? But when van Drood had finished helping Mrs. van Beek out of the car, Helen turned haughtily away and walked into the hotel ahead of her mother and groom.

  “She saw us and didn’t tell,” I said. “She wants us to rescue her.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Agnes said. “It will make things easier.”

  Sam let us out at the front of the hotel and left to wait on a side street. If we couldn’t get to the train, the backup plan was to get to the car. The same footman who had tried to help Helen out offered me his hand. I was brushing past him when I recognized Jinks’s freckled face. “Your friend slipped me this,” he whispered, pressing a folded piece of paper into my hand. I unfolded the piece of paper, which I recognized as the robin’s-egg-blue stationery Helen favored. The handwriting didn’t look anything like Helen’s elegant script, though, it was crooked and jagged like it had been written by someone on a roller coaster—or by someone fighting a great force to get the words out.

  “It’s a trap,” it read. “Flee!”

  22

  I SHOWED THE note to Agnes and Daisy.

  “Never mind,” Agnes said. “We’ve got our own trap set.” She straightened her hat and marched into the Grosvenor.

  I passed the message back to Jinks. “Tell the others,” I said. “Tell them to be careful.” Then I followed Agnes and Daisy into the crowded lobby, where I only managed to locate them by the upright yellow feather on Agnes’s hat. She was wearing an unusually frilly dress for her, in a pale blue instead of her usual navy. Daisy and I were dressed in the same pale blue. We were meant to be bridesmaids, as Agnes
was explaining now to the bell captain. “We’re here for the van Beek and van Drood wedding, but we got held up in traffic. We’re to be Miss van Beek’s bridesmaids. You must take us to her right away.”

  “It’s a private ceremony,” the bell captain began, but then Omar stepped beside Agnes and intoned in a deep, resonant voice, “We are part of the wedding party. Take us there at once.”

  The clerk stared up at Omar’s turban, blinked once, and then stammered, “Th-they’re in the Palm Suite, right at the top of the stairs. Boy!” He snapped his fingers and a uniformed bellboy appeared. “Take these ladies and gentleman to the Palm Suite at once.”

  The bellboy saluted, which seemed to startle the bell captain, and turned smartly on his heel, grinning ear to ear. I recognized one of the Hawthorn boys. “Right this way, sir, ladies. The Palm Suite, tooty sweety!”

  We followed him up the grand carpeted staircase. I spied Kid Marvel lounging behind a palm tree on the landing and Bottom, dressed in a bell captain’s uniform, dusting a portrait of Queen Victoria. A fluttering sound drew my eye up to the skylight and I saw a shadow of wings pass over the glass. Three ravens peered in. “Droood!” one cawed. The tower ravens had come to watch and pass messages. Raven and Marlin would watch from the skylights until we had Helen and then they would meet us at the station. I was surrounded by my friends, but as I walked up the deeply carpeted stairs I felt completely alone.

  “Flee!” Helen had scrawled, as though her life depended on it. Or, knowing Helen, as if my life depended on it. We were walking into a trap, but what choice did I have? I couldn’t let Helen marry van Drood. Perhaps, though, I could try to protect Agnes and Daisy.

  “Let me go in alone,” I said at the door to the Palm Suite. “If it’s a trap you can get help.”

  “No,” Daisy said, “we go in together. She’s my friend, too. I’m not letting you face van Drood alone.” She moved her hand to her waist where her embroidered reticule hung from her belt. She moved it aside and I saw the flash of a silver dagger. Agnes slid her dagger out of her pocket.

  “Your grandmother would have my head if I let you go in there alone. We do this together.” Her face was so pale her freckles stood out like splattered blood. I hoped it wasn’t a presage of things to come—unless it was van Drood’s blood. I was perfectly ready to shed some of his.

  I was so geared for battle that when I pushed open the door to the Palm Suite I expected armed guards and shadow demons, not a room filled with orange blossoms and a harpist strumming Strauss’s wedding dance, which I recognized now as the same tune my repeator had played yesterday. Van Drood, cloaked in an Inverness cape and Homburg hat, and Helen, still veiled, stood in front of an Anglican minister. Mrs. van Beek stood to the side, dabbing her eyes with a lace handkerchief. The only other witness was a frightened-looking bell clerk.

  “Stop!” I cried. “This woman is being wed against her wishes.” I strode down the petal-bedecked carpet, feeling like a figure in a penny dreadful. Helen stared at me through her veil. Van Drood didn’t even look at me. He was looking at the minister.

  “Proceed,” he said. “This hysterical female has formed an unhealthy attachment to my fiancée. Such is what comes of educating the weaker sex.” There was something strange about van Drood’s voice, but I was too angry to worry about it.

  “This is what comes of educating women,” I cried, drawing out my dagger. Daisy drew her dagger out and jumped between Helen and van Drood. Agnes pointed her dagger at the bell clerk, who ran squawking from the suite. I grabbed Helen’s hand and pulled her closer to me. “We’re leaving here with our friend,” I said. “If you try to follow us you’ll be cut down by our compatriots.”

  Van Drood turned toward me. I braced myself to meet his gaze, but I was not prepared for what I saw. There was no gaze because there was no face, just a blur between hat and cape. It was as if the fog he had summoned yesterday had eaten away his face. It made me feel ill to look at him, so I looked away into Helen’s wide blue eyes staring at me through her veil.

  “I told you to flee,” she said.

  “Sorry,” I told her, “but I’m ready to do it now.” I grabbed her hand. She winced as the netting on her sleeve writhed away from my touch, but I didn’t let go. I pulled her back up the flower-strewn carpet, past her shrieking mother and the frightened-looking harpist and out the door of the Palm Suite. As we approached, the skylight shattered and a flock of crows streamed into the stairwell. Raven and Marlin landed in their wake.

  “Go!” Marlin cried, fighting off the crows.

  I dragged Helen down the stairs and headed toward the passage to the train station. As I crossed the lobby the uniformed Hawthorn boys dropped whatever they were holding—suitcases, tea trays, even a crystal vase full of roses—to fall in beside us.

  “Who are all these boys?” Helen asked.

  “They’re from Hawthorn, our brother school, and they’re Nathan’s friends. Don’t you see, Helen, we’ve all come to help you.”

  Her hand tightened on mine and I felt sure that the spectacle of the Hawthorn boys marching beside us would break van Drood’s hold on her. Who could be unmoved by their bright shining faces? As we passed into Victoria Station the boys in porter uniform joined us, marching smartly as though we were in a parade, and began to sing. It was a marching song they must have learned in school, the words a little silly, but they made my heart beat faster and raised goose bumps on my skin. It was impossible not to march to the same beat and impossible not to join in. I looked at Helen and saw that her face was wet with tears.

  True to the Bell and Feather

  We’ll march all day and night.

  Hawthorn boys forever!

  We put up a jolly good fight!

  “They’re here for you,” I told her. “They won’t let van Drood take you back.”

  “Oh, Ava, how can you be so blind? These boys are marching to their deaths. All of them! This is how it starts!”

  Her words turned my skin cold, but I kept hold of her hand and made her walk faster toward the track. The train had just pulled into the station. Great clouds of steam rose up to the iron-arched ceiling where pigeons wheeled—no, not pigeons—shadow crows. Marlin and Raven were up there, too, battling them. The steam billowed over the platform so I could barely see. Omar and Kid Marvel should have gone on ahead to meet us here, but I couldn’t see them through the steam. Porters pushing trolleys piled high with trunks loomed out of the steam. I pulled Helen around them, dodging women with parasols and men with heavy black umbrellas. The boys were having trouble staying beside us on the narrow crowded platform, but that was all right. They had done their part; we were almost there. I saw Omar’s turban floating out of the steam.

  “There’s Mr. Omar!” I shouted to Helen over the sudden sharp shriek of the train whistle. “We’re almost there.” The steam swallowed him up again. I plunged ahead and ran into a gentleman in a damp wool coat.

  “Excuse me,” I said, trying to step around the man. But Helen had come to a standstill, her hold on my hand a sudden leaden weight, like an anchor that had been dropped into the sea.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” I said, trying to look over the man’s shoulder for Omar. “Could you let us by, please? Our traveling companions are waiting for us at the next car.”

  “I believe this is your car,” the man replied in a deep, familiar voice. “I’ve reserved a private car for my fiancée.”

  I looked up into Judicus van Drood’s cold black eyes. His face was starkly etched against the swirling steam. “But how . . . ?” I began, but then I heard a sniggering laugh behind me. I turned to find another man in Inverness cape and Homburg hat. His face was a blur, but as I stared it resolved into the vulpine features, sallow skin, and drooping mustache of Spring-heeled Jack. It had been him in the Palm Suite, not van Drood.

  “But I thought you were to marry Helen,” I said, turning back to van Dr
ood.

  “Did you think I’d subject my darling bride to an ignominious hurried ceremony in a public hotel? I have much grander plans for her—and for you, Avaline. But first there is a little business I have to attend to . . . ah, here is your school chum. It’s quite the reunion.”

  I turned to find Nathan standing beside Spring-heeled Jack. Behind him I spied Mr. Bellows, Agnes, and Daisy trying to get past a porter with a stack of white and peacock-blue ostrich- skin trunks and valises, but the billow of steam cut them off. The steam had formed a circle around us, cutting us off from everyone else on the platform.

  “Yes, we’ll have a rousing round of ‘Auld Lang Syne’ once we’re alone,” Nathan said, holding up an envelope. “I have what you want—a map showing the location of the third vessel. Let Helen and Ava go and I’ll give it to you.”

  “Our arrangement was for the release of Miss van Beek,” van Drood said. “Miss Hall was not part of the deal.”

  Nathan’s face stiffened.

  “Don’t worry about me,” I told him. “Save Helen. I can leave any time I want.”

  “Can you?” van Drood asked, bending his eyes down to my left hand, which still held Helen’s. I looked down at our intertwined hands. They were bound together by the netting from Helen’s dress, which had crept over my hand and was now inching up my wrist. As if looking at it released some toxin, it began to itch like poison ivy.

  “I’m sorry,” Helen whispered. “I told you it was a trap. I told you to flee.”

  Nathan stepped closer, staring at our linked hands. “Can you let go of her hand?” I wasn’t sure if he was speaking to Helen or me, but it was Helen who shook my hand away from hers. The net snapped and recoiled like a snake. It wound itself tighter around my wrist and bit into my skin. Nathan tried to peel it off but it took a patch of skin with it.

  “That only makes it worse,” Helen said. “But if anyone can withstand this dreadful thing, it’s Ava.” She wasn’t talking to me anymore, she was staring at Nathan. “Trade the map for Ava. I’m too far gone to help.”