She began laughing; it turned into a coughing fit, and she hacked something into her fist, which she wiped on the edge of her shawl.
“Afterward, I stayed hidden in the trees and watched the children reunite with their pathetic mothers and fathers. I couldn’t risk facing your wizard. But I saw you and your brother and sister with the book, and I knew then that I would wait. Everyone would believe I was dead. Even my master would think I had perished when the boat went over the falls. I saw how the Atlas could still be mine!”
She seized Kate’s arm. Her nails were black and splintered.
“Year after year, I waited. The townspeople didn’t recognize me. The same children I had once imprisoned brought me food and water. I was patient. Then, one day, I heard of the three children who had come to the house across the river. I had long ago discovered the hidden passages in the walls; unnoticed, I slipped in, I crept along, I watched, and there I saw you, my beautiful Katrina, not a day, not a moment, older.…”
She was close now, her sour breath washing over Kate’s face.
“Give me the Atlas.”
Kate hesitated. Should she scream? Would anyone hear her?
“I know what you’re thinking, my dove. But your Dr. Pym won’t hear you. He’s too far away. You know who will hear you? Little Michael and Emma. They’ll come running. And I will make you watch as I kill them both! I’ve waited too long—give me the Atlas!”
From the folds of her shawl, the crone drew a long, rusty-toothed knife. Kate let her eyes go to the knife’s edge, then back to the hag’s eyes.
“Promise you won’t hurt Michael or Emma.”
“Please”—she smiled horribly—“I’m not a monster.”
“And you’ll leave right after.”
“Like I was never here.”
“Okay, then.”
Kate turned and reached under the mattress. She had no intention of handing over the book. She merely wanted the witch to think she’d won so that her guard would relax. Gripping the book’s cover, Kate stood up suddenly, spinning around, swinging the leather-bound tome with all her might at the Countess’s head—
The old woman’s hand shot up and caught the book. They stood like that, Kate holding one end, the Countess the other, her nails digging into the emerald cover.
The witch began cackling. “Tricky little girl. Not so trusting anymore, are we? Fortunately, the Countess is stronger than she looks. Now—LET! GO!”
The Countess gave a terrific yank, and Kate’s hands slipped. But it was too much; the crone lost her balance, and the book fell, landing open upon the floor. Kate and the witch both dove for it—
Then the Countess was clawing at the book, hissing, jabbing her knife at Kate’s face, and Kate was leaning back, her fingers locked over an open page, refusing to let go, refusing to let this woman win, and as the blade came toward her, Kate did the only thing she could think of. Closing her eyes, she reached for the magic in the book with every fiber of her being, and prayed that Dr. Pym was right.
She felt the tug immediately. Strange as it seemed, Kate had the sense that the Atlas, and the power inside it, had been waiting for her all this time. But the thrill only lasted a second; then it was as if she was cast in the middle of a great ocean, far from the sight of land. The Countess was still with her, but only as a presence. Kate started to feel herself sinking, and she realized that she could just disappear, vanish into time itself. Maybe that was okay, maybe that’s what was meant to happen. But then, as she had in the bedroom, she found herself remembering being held by her mother, remembering how her mother had recognized her, and a flame of pure love sparked in her breast. In that moment, the rest of what Dr. Pym had said came back to her.
Before she could access the book’s power, her heart needed to heal.
Okay, she thought, imagine you have a photograph. Tell the book where to go.
The next moment, she was blinking in the sunlight, standing on the roof of a building in a brown, sun-baked city. Red dust hung in the air while shouts rose from the street below. The Countess had fallen to her knees, gasping for breath. Her knife lay on the ground, and Kate kicked it away.
“How did you … how did you do that?”
“I don’t need a photograph anymore. The Atlas just does what I want.”
“No, it’s not possible.…”
“Really? Look around. Seems pretty possible to me.”
“But you can’t—”
“Actually, I think I always could. I just wasn’t ready. Dr. Pym knew that. He told me the book wouldn’t listen to me till my heart was healed.” Kate was speaking more to herself than to the Countess. She needed to say aloud what she now knew. “Imagine having one question at the center of your life, and until you answer that question, you’ll always be lost. For me, it was wondering if our parents had really loved us. How could they, when they’d abandoned us? But when you helped me go back in time, my mother knew who I was. She recognized me as her daughter. I’ll never question her love again. It’s like knowing where north is. Whatever happens, I’ll have that to guide me.”
The Countess had struggled to her feet. Her once-violet eyes were black with hatred. Kate wasn’t scared anymore. In fact, she felt a remarkable sense of calm.
“It’s funny, if you hadn’t sent me back in time, I never would’ve figured that out. Though then again, I’m pretty sure Dr. Pym planned it all from the moment he gave me the memory of my mother. I’ll have to ask him when I see him.”
“Child, I am going to rip—”
Her threat was cut short by an explosion in a nearby street. The Countess whirled about.
“Where are we? Where have you brought us?”
Kate shrugged. “I forget the name of the city. It’s the one you told me about, where the council of magicians first wrote the Books. You said it was destroyed by Alexander the Great. I told the Atlas to take us there.”
“You brought us to Rhakotis?”
“I guess.”
“You foolish girl! Look!”
The Countess pointed one long, crooked finger, and Kate turned. Behind her stretched an endless blue sea, shining in the sun, and upon it were thousands and thousands of ships. Kate could hear drums sounding across the water, and as she watched, balls of flame shot up from the decks of the closest ships. The missiles crashed about the city; in the space of a few seconds, a dozen fires were raging all about them. Kate could hear people screaming as they ran for safety.
“We must go! Help me, and I will help you! You have power. I see that now. The Atlas has claimed you! But you have no idea what lies ahead! Help me, and I will help you!”
“Why would I need your help?”
“Because I know my master. He is always searching. For you and your brother and sister! For the Books! The Dire Magnus will find you!”
At the mention of his name, Kate imagined she heard the violin. She knew it was only in her head, but even so, the memory of the music chilled her. The Countess lunged closer.
“You have seen him! You know he will break your magician like a twig and then you will all become his slaves! I can help! Help you get the other two Books! Don’t you see that is your only hope? He will never stop searching! You must get the Books first!”
“We’ll hide—”
The old woman hissed and waved her gnarled hand dismissively. “Hide? For how long? Your entire lives? He’ll find you! He’ll find you, and through you he’ll find the Books, and then he will ravage this world! I have told you what the Books can do! And”—she paused, leering—“I would have thought you cared more for your parents.”
Kate’s heart lurched in her chest; she suddenly found it hard to breathe.
“What … what do you mean?”
The Countess smiled, sensing she had gained the upper hand. “So, the wizard hasn’t told you yet? Too bad, too bad. But I still have my old ear to the ground, don’t I? Especially when it comes to mon petit oiseau. Ten years ago, the Dire Magnus finally tracked you and little
Michael and Emma down.”
“But how …”
“The prophecy, of course! There were signs. But the wizard was too fast. Spirited you away. Your sweet parents, not so lucky! No, no, not so lucky at all.” She came closer. “Ten years now, ten years your loving parents have been the prisoners of the Dire Magnus!”
“You’re lying.”
“Oh, be nice to think so, wouldn’t it? But you know I’m not! The Dire Magnus has your parents, and the only way you’ll get them back is to find the other two Books first! For that, you need the Countess’s help!”
Her parents were prisoners. That was why they’d never come for them. Terrible as it was, Kate felt a strange sense of relief; her own history finally made sense.
There was a ripping in the air, and Kate and the Countess both looked and saw another fiery salvo, even larger than the last, erupting from the ships. The city was doomed. The Countess seized Kate’s arm.
“Now! Take me back! I am your only hope!”
But Kate shook her head and said, simply, “No. You stay.”
She wrenched her arm free at the same time as she reached for the magic. The last thing she saw was the Countess flying at her as the sky around them filled with fire.
A second later, Kate was standing in the bedroom, alone, holding the emerald-green book.
“Hey! What’re you doing? I thought you were hiding that.” Emma was at the door. “Are you okay?”
Kate realized she was holding her breath. She exhaled.
“I’m fine. I just—Emma, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”
Her sister had tears in her eyes.
“You gotta come, Kate! You gotta see!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Ghosts of Christmas Past
As Kate hurried with Emma through the dark hallways of the house, she couldn’t help noticing that everything was in a state of extreme disrepair: mirrors were crusted with grime, cobwebs clung to the corners, mouse-eaten rugs covered creaking, dusty floors. In short, the house looked exactly as it had before they’d gone into the past. Emma wouldn’t tell her what had happened, which was fine, actually, as Kate was still thinking about all the Countess had said, how the Dire Magnus was holding their parents prisoner, how their only hope of rescuing them was to get the other two Books. She knew she had to tell Michael and Emma. But first she wanted to talk to Dr. Pym.
They stopped at the door to the ballroom. Emma faced her.
“Are you ready?”
Without waiting for an answer, Emma turned the handles. As the doors swung open, Kate was assaulted by a blast of light and music. The ballroom was filled with people, eating, drinking, talking, and for a moment, Kate thought they had stumbled into the Countess’s ghostly St. Petersburg gala. Only this wasn’t the Countess’s gala. The music was festive. There was a huge tree in the center of the room. The walls were hung with garlands and holly. The guests, while dressed in their seasonal best, were very clearly not the cream of St. Petersburg society. And then there were the children. They ran about, weaving between the adults, chasing one another and yelping with high spirits.
“What is this?” Kate said.
Emma didn’t reply, and Kate saw that she was being noticed. One partygoer would look over, whisper to another, who would whisper to another, who would whisper to another; in just a few seconds, the entire ballroom had fallen silent and turned to stare.
“Emma, what’s going—”
She was drowned out as every person there began to cheer and clap.
“Okay,” Kate said, “this is creepy.”
“There you are! Welcome! Welcome!”
Dr. Pym, wearing the same tweed suit she’d seen him in fifteen years and not five minutes before, emerged from the applauding crowd. He was beaming. “A Merry Christmas, my dear! A Merry Merry Merry Merry Christmas!”
He bowed, folding himself nearly in half.
“Dr. Pym,” Kate said, “… who are … What’s going on?”
“Why, it’s a party!” Then he lowered his voice so only Kate could hear. “Have no fear. The Dire Magnus cannot harm you tonight. I have seen to it.”
Kate nodded dumbly. She was staring at the crush of party-goers closing in on them.
“Uh-huh, but—”
Michael stepped up behind the wizard. “It’s okay, Kate. Everything’s all right.”
And indeed, all the people seemed to want to do was shake Kate’s hand, say thank you, and wish her a Merry Christmas. They were men and women of all ages, and Kate saw that many had tears in their eyes, and they held on to her hand as if they’d been waiting for this moment for many years and were unwilling to let it pass too quickly.
“Dr. Pym,” she said as she emerged from the embrace of a round woman who’d blubbered all over her shoulder, “who are these people?”
“These are the fine people of Cambridge Falls. We host an annual Christmas party here at the house. I find it a good way to dispel bad spirits. Though I still can’t persuade Miss Sallow to clean the place properly. She really is a dismal housekeeper.”
“Don’t you see?” Emma cried. “They’re the kids! The ones we saved! All grown up!”
Just then a young couple with a baby walked up. Both the man and the child had curly red hair.
“It’s really you,” the man said. “We hardly believed it when Dr. Pym said you’d be here tonight. You don’t look at all different. Smaller, I guess, but that’s to be expected.”
Kate had the feeling she knew this man, but she couldn’t say from where or how.
The woman smiled. “They don’t recognize you, dear.”
“Right, of course. I’m Stephen McClattery. I grew up a little. And this is Annie, my wife. Do you remember her?”
“… Oh …,” Kate said, “… OH!”
“I had glasses,” Annie said.
“I remember.” Kate was thinking of how she had once held this girl, now a woman, in her arms.
“We’d like you to meet our daughter,” Annie said. “We named her Katherine. We owe everything to you. We all do. Everyone here.”
Kate looked at the baby and felt her eyes welling with tears. Choking, she was able to murmur, “She’s beautiful.”
“ ’Ere now!” cried a hearty voice. “Lemme through! I want a crack at ’em!”
The dwarf king Robbie McLaur was pushing his way good-naturedly through the crowd. He wore a red-and-green-checked vest, and his beard was neatly plaited into four braids, each tied with an emerald ribbon. With his vest, his braided, beribboned beard, and his general air of smartness, Kate thought he looked like nothing so much as the most prancing of all prancing ponies—that is to say, she thought he looked marvelous.
Michael exclaimed, “Your Highness! No one told me you were here!” and immediately dropped to a knee.
Emma groaned. “You are so embarrassing.”
“ ’Ere now, none a’ that from you!” Robbie dragged Michael to his feet and clasped him in a ferocious hug. “A sight for sore eyes, lad! All three a’ you! A sight for sore eyes!”
Then Kate saw the other dwarf standing a few paces back. He wore a red-and-gold vest and was grinning broadly through his black beard.
“Wallace!” she cried, and ran forward.
Laughing, he wrapped her in his short, muscular arms, then stepped back to better take her in. “Last I saw you was in the Dead City near fifteen year ago. In fact, you mighta been wearing them exact clothes.”
“Wallace, I’m so sorry about what I did—”
“Now, now, no apologies. Things turned out right in the end.”
“Aye, that they did,” Robbie cut in. “Not least, we’ve reestablished ties with the Cambridge Falls–ians. Not a bad egg among ’em! Oh, before I forget, Hamish sends his apologies he couldn’t make it.”
“Really?” Kate said.
“Really?” Michael said.
Robbie roared with laughter and slapped Michael’s back so hard that Michael nearly toppled over.
“Course no
t! I’ve got that degenerate back at the palace ’anding out presents. I make ’im dress up like Santa every year. Bounce ’em young dwarfies on ’is knee. Lord but ’e hates it!”
Kate saw that her sister was standing on her toes, straining to peer out over the crowd. Kate’s heart sank, realizing what, or who, Emma was searching for. Kate knew that now was the time to go to her. But just then she was waylaid by another pair of grown-up children who wanted to meet her, thank her, have her kiss their child. When she turned back around, Emma was gone.
She found her sister outside, on the back patio, the same one where, fifteen years earlier, the three of them had sat with the Countess while the witch had explained the history of the Books of Beginning. That night had been warm, filled with the end of summer. It was winter now; a hard crust of snow covered the stone-flagged patio, and Kate could see her breath. She closed the doors behind her, shutting out the noise of the party, and crossed to her sister. Emma was staring at the dark line of trees, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Kate wondered if she even felt the cold.
“I thought he’d be here,” Emma said. “I thought … I mean, everyone else is here. Those dwarves and … I just thought he’d be here too. Stupid, I guess.”
Kate put her hand on her sister’s back.
“I’m sorry.”
They stood like that for perhaps half a minute, neither moving nor speaking. Kate wondered if she should make Emma come inside. It was too cold to be out without a coat, and she wanted to tell her and Michael what she’d learned about their parents. She was about to speak when Emma let out a gasp and bolted down the stone steps and out into the snow.
“Emma! Wait! What’re you …”
Then she saw the dark shape that had separated itself from the trees and was moving toward them.
No, Kate thought. It can’t be.…
Emma was running through the knee-high drifts, shouting the name, and when she reached the figure, she threw herself into its outstretched arms.
Kate heard Emma’s muffled voice. “I knew it! I knew it.…”
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