by Gina LaManna
Chapter 15
It took exactly two minutes and thirty-six seconds to locate the off-limits wing of the estate. I bee-lined toward it after leaving Mr. Raymond’s office, taking a few detours through kitchens, bathrooms, and sitting rooms that’d been colored in Dust Daily green highlighter.
On a good day, I disliked cleaning. Seeing the expansive rooms with all their sparkling faucets, light switches, and woodwork that needed to be wiped, mopped, and scrubbed every day was a bit soul crushing. I glided right past them, snagging a feather duster from underneath one of the sinks and dusting random bits of wall as I weaved my way toward the off-limits wing.
“Hello,” I said, doing a twirl and some extra-vicious feather duster work at the sight of a man dressed like a butler. He merely stared as I passed. Thankfully, he didn’t follow. I sighed in relief, then sneezed thanks to the dust clinging to the tips of the feathers.
When I reached the edge of the hallway highlighted in red on the map, I paused. “Hello to you, my friend,” I murmured. “What do we have here that is oh-so-precious?”
Glancing around, I scanned for cameras and alarms. I’d taken classes at MAGIC, Inc. to learn about human alarm systems, but they’d gone right over my head. I didn’t really love technology. Electricity and batteries and wires…that seemed more like magic to me than just pointing my finger and zapping a burrito to the appropriate temperature.
Luckily, there were no signs of human alarms in the Frost Castle, but that didn’t surprise me. The staticky-feeling of magic hung thick in the air, confirming my suspicion that there were more powerful alarms here than a beeping box on the wall. I peered closer, closing my eyes, trying to get a sense for the type of magic used to protect the secret treasures.
Over my years on the job, I’d learned that different types of magic were unique in how they felt. No spell was quite the same, just like no pasta dish was exactly the same. However, there were broad families, and sometimes I could sense the difference between a Hex and a Charm, just like I could smell the difference between Mexican food and Italian.
This hallway contained too much magic for me to isolate one single spell. Looking up at the ceiling, I wondered if they had some sort of protective shield around the castle that kept spells inside. I hadn’t sensed magic from the outside, and that was quite impressive. Usually, magic left a trace—even the complex protective spells that were meant to be invisible. Whoever’d constructed this alarm system was skilled, very, very skilled.
I stepped one foot into the hallway, gathered courage, and then continued along, dusting the picture frames hanging along the wall. The photos provided a beautiful backdrop for an otherwise sterile hallway, most of them scenic landscapes from up north. Castles made from ice and snow-covered grounds gave the room an inexplicably chilly vibe.
It was the room at the end of the hallway that I needed to reach. Colored bright red on the map, it was the most off-limits space in all the castle, and the very place where I hoped to find some answers. Had there ever been a theft in the first place? And if so, why was Dimitrius keeping it secret?
After ten minutes of dusting molding around the forbidden room’s locked door that hadn’t needed dusting in the first place, I paused, a hand on my hip. There was no way, in all my resourcefulness, that I was getting inside that room today. Too risky. That’d require a longer, more carefully thought-out plan.
I dusted the doorknob and tried it again. Still locked. I let out a frustrated sigh, running through my options. I couldn’t get inside this morning, but maybe I could sneak a peek.
The framed images on the wall had jogged my memory of a spell I’d learned back in Guardian training called a Hideaway Hex. This spell allowed me to use photographs as windows into locked rooms. I hadn’t used the spell in ages, but it was worth a shot.
Muttering under my breath, I recalled the Hideaway Hex with startling ease.
“Photo, photo, on the wall,
Turn inside and take in all.
Reflect the image back to me,
Show the truth of what you see.”
The subject of the photo I’d chosen for the hex was of a young girl. She was a bit slow on the uptake, so I waited patiently.
It took longer than usual, but finally, the girl in the photo began to respond, and my body tingled with excitement. This was the very reason that most witches and wizards chose to keep their walls free of photos, save for one room in the house where there was nothing to hide—just like my mother’s upstairs landing pad.
The owner of this house was either very confident in their security, or they had nothing to hide. I hoped it was the former, and that this lack of judgement on their part would give me the lucky break I needed. I had nothing to give Declan yet, and each day passing was a notch against me, against my abilities to get the job done. I needed something.
I held my breath, waiting as the image of a young girl with Eskimo-like features—dark hair, gorgeous, creamy skin, eyes that opened into her soul—melted away to form a translucent piece of glass. Then, with painstaking slowness, another layer replaced that one, giving the illusion of looking through a two-way mirror…a mirror that reflected secrets.
The image on it was of a safe. Judging by the rest of the features, it was in this very hallway. The safe had a clear layer of glass over it, and a plush purple pillow inside.
I sucked in a breath. All signs pointed to this compartment functioning as a home for expensive, rare jewelry. There was only one problem.
The safe was empty.
I waved a hand in front of the picture frame, melting the image back to the original photo. Maybe it was my paranoia, but the young girl’s eyes now seemed to stare deeper at me, filled with curiosity. It was eerie enough that I backed away, bringing my feather duster with me.
I hightailed it toward the front lobby and reached the door just as Mr. Raymond poked his head out of his office. He ran a hand through his perfectly gelled hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Lilah. Bring your things.”
“About that,” I said. “I think we should revisit the idea of me staying here. During our week of a trial period, I’d like the option to return home in the evenings.”
“No.”
“I asked for the option!”
“And I said no.”
“Look, you need a housekeeper, don’t you?” I asked, going out on a limb and hoping the harried assistant was, in fact, desperate to fill this position so he could quit interviewing and return to his daily duties. “Loosen the rules on the trial period, and I’ll make your life a whole lot easier.”
He shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Clearly, my assumption had been right, and he wasn’t thrilled about starting the search for a new maid. “Bring your bag tomorrow, and we’ll talk. At least make it look like you listened to me.”
I smiled. “Yes, sir.”
Mr. Raymond gave a disgruntled sigh, dismissing me with a flick of his wrist. My request might not be written in blood, but at least he knew where I stood on the matter. Of course, the chances that I would return the next day were slim to none. I mostly just liked irking the man; something about him was adorable in an overworked, overachieving middle manager sort of way.
Giving him a satisfied smile to combat his frustrated frown, I stepped past him and made my way out of the home. I didn’t stop walking until I’d reached the gates, pausing briefly as they automatically swung open upon my approach.
Mr. Raymond’s voice crackled through the stereo. “One last thing, Lilah. The terms and conditions state that anything you’ve seen on the inside should remain an utter secret. Remember that.”
“Of course,” I said, hurrying out before the gates could lock me inside the estate.
When I was finally free, I took a moment to breathe, unable to believe my luck. Then my mind flashed toward the previous housekeeper, the one who had called the cops. Had she felt like this? Like a prisoner in a painfully beautiful estate where escape was next to impossible? I wasn’t eve
n under the spell of the contract yet, and my nerves were nearly ruined. I could hardly imagine what it’d been like for the last maid. Not for the first time, I wondered how she’d managed to quit. One simply didn’t just quit a magical contract because they felt like it—the effects of those types of documents were long lasting and iron clad. I couldn’t imagine the king having released her on a rush of goodwill.
A sudden thought hit me. Had she escaped? What if the maid hadn’t quit, but slipped through the fingers of the contract? If so, she would’ve almost certainly needed help to get out of the castle alive. The shadow flashed through my mind, and I wondered if the king’s sister was here, trapped too, in the highest floors of the castle. Had she helped the housekeeper? If only I could find the shadow, so many of my questions would be answered.
If my interest had been piqued before, now it ran wild. However, if I couldn’t find the shadow, my next best option was to find the previous housekeeper and determine what exactly she’d witnessed inside the castle walls.
Had she seen who’d stolen whatever belonged in that safe? And if so, why hadn’t the Frost King reported the theft to MAGIC? I should’ve heard something about it at work by now, and not through Declan’s secret grapevine. Certainly it would be news that Dimitrius was in town.
My gut twisted, telling me that the housekeeper was in trouble. Somehow, I felt partially responsible. Maybe if I’d acted sooner on my hunches, she wouldn’t have vanished, because the only other logical option was that the housekeeper hadn’t escaped—she’d been silenced.
A cold hand gripped my wrist, ice cold, making my skin feel like it’d been plunged into Lake Superior in the middle of winter. My body trembled from the tips of my toes to the hair on my head, the chill seeping into my veins and icing my body from the inside.
I yanked my hand away, but the figure held on tighter. Spinning, I found myself face to face with a girl. The young woman was dressed in a gown of the palest white, the fabric draped over her body like a regal sundress. The gauzy material floated around her ankles and gave her the illusion of gliding instead of walking. A hood fell loosely over her forehead and reached just past her eyes.
Thin lips painted silver shimmered in the sunlight, the color of her skin pale as a snowflake. I held my breath as she tipped her head back, and then I inhaled a breath as she exposed her face. Never before had I seen a woman more stunning.
Eyes that gleamed like crystals were rimmed with thick, full lashes tipped with dots of liquid silver. Every time she blinked I watched the sunlight ripple off her flawless cheeks. Peering at me through those crystalline eyes, she spoke in a pleading voice laced with a firmness that left no room for negotiation.
“Leave this place,” she said, her fingers circling tighter around my wrist as she spoke. “Never come back, please.”
I looked down at my arm, half expecting my skin to fracture like brittle glass. Finally, I tore my eyes away from her milky white hand wrapped around the tattoos on my arm. Speaking in a soft tone, I barely dared to break the silence. “Who are you?”
“You must leave this place, and you must never come back. Promise me.”
“Do you need my help?” I whispered. “I can protect you. Come with me. I promise you’ll be safe. It’s my job.”
“I know who you are.” Her voice had morphed from the pleading tone of a desperate woman to an intelligent, sing-song accent clipped with frost. This woman was from the north, no doubt about it. “We don’t need your help here. For your safety, please stay away. You don’t understand what’s happening here.”
“If I find the prophecy, will I understand?”
Her eyes lit up like sparklers, and I couldn’t tell if it was in terror or anger. Her willowy figure swayed, and she turned to look behind her, as if someone might be watching. “Leave the prophecy alone. It will only get you in trouble, trust me.”
She spoke with a vehemence that made me think she had a list of reasons behind her warning.
“I want to help,” I said again. “Please let me.”
Pulling her hood lower so that only the very tips of her lashes were visible, her pale eyebrows covered, she shook her head. Long, silky locks of hair the whitest of whites shimmered over her shoulder, rolling down the front of her body like waves. “Please go,” she said, wrapping her hair back in her hood. “Stay away, Ainsley. If you return, I won’t be able to help you.”
Then, just as suddenly as she’d arrived, the mysterious woman disappeared through the gates of the estate. I scanned the surroundings, looking for a sign of anyone who might be watching. When I turned back to the mansion, she was gone.
I dragged my feet as I left, torn in so many directions I didn’t know what to think. On one hand, I was supposedly due back there tomorrow to start as a full-time housekeeper for the Frost King.
On the other hand, I could leave and never step foot on this street again.
But I couldn’t…I couldn’t do it. There were too many questions. The empty safe, the missing housekeeper, and now the mysterious figure who’d warned me to stay away—but why? Was she in trouble?
The farther away from the castle I got, the warmer the sun felt on my face, and I realized with a start that it was almost afternoon. I still had an interview at the library for a real job.
Hurriedly, I snuck into the patch of woods where I’d stashed my broomstick, located it next to the tree I’d used as camouflage, and hopped on. I proceeded to spend the next few seconds unsuccessfully trying to take off from the ground, only to realize I was side-saddling a tree branch and not, as I’d thought, my broomstick.
My Camo Charm had been so successful I’d lost sight of my own broom, which I suppose wasn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened. Once I corrected the problem, I was airborne within seconds on the appropriate vehicle. It was only when I was halfway to the library that I realized I was still grasping the feather duster in my other hand.
I stashed it behind me, my mind clouded with the new questions raised that morning. I focused on pushing them away, concentrating on the task at hand—for Millie.
Later, I could worry about the woman who’d gripped my arm with icy fingers, the shadow who’d whispered against the wind for help, or to push me away. I could worry about my secret assignment for Mr. Davis, and the detective who’d suddenly invaded my thoughts during all waking moments.
Landing on the sidewalk outside the library, questions still circling in my mind, I made my decision. The castle needed cleaning, and I was the one for the job. The next day, I’d return.
Stashing the broomstick under my arm, I hustled into the library and waved to Millie, my mind back at the estate. I had a feeling that getting inside tomorrow wouldn’t be the problem. It was getting out that would prove a challenge.
Chapter 16
“We prefer that our employees travel to work via human methods,” the head librarian said, shooting a judgmental expression at my broomstick as I approached her. “Though our staff might be privy to the paranormal comings and goings of society, we cater to a crowd mixed with human and magical species alike. I suppose that you may stash your materials in the hall closet for now.”
I’d only been here a few minutes and already, I’d been given the stare of disapproval. Not good. For Millie’s sake, I hurried over to the closet and stashed my broomstick, pasting an apologetic smile on my face.
“We don’t allow broomsticks in here!” Millie whispered in a tense voice. “Have you never stepped foot into a library before?”
“I heard already, and yes.” I shrugged. “A while ago. I lost my library card, so it’s not my fault.”
Millie slammed the closet door shut—as quietly as one could slam a door—and shook her head in dismay.
“Sorry,” I said again. “I had business to attend to this morning.”
Turning, around, I came face to face with the crooked nose of the head librarian. She had more hair than most 80s pop stars, and it was black and frizzy and flew in all directions from her fa
ce, as if the very tips of her hair didn’t want to be near her head.
“Are you ready now?” she asked. “You’re late.”
“You’ll have to forgive her,” Millie said gently. “She hasn’t had the luxury of visiting our new space yet, and she wasn’t aware of the broomstick rules. I’ll keep an eye on her, don’t you worry. I promise you she learns quickly.”
To my surprise, the librarian’s stern frown and cranky eyebrows froze that way for a moment, and then her face softened like butter. “Millie is a wonderful employee.”
I nodded vigorously in agreement. “She loves words. And books. And information.”
“We take her recommendations very seriously,” she said. “Ainsley, do you agree to listen carefully as we teach? Will you learn, and understand, and put the best effort you’re capable of into the position?”
My head kept bobbing. “Yes, of course.”
“Fine. Then you have the job on one condition.” She leaned forward, that frizzy hair wobbling in all its crimped glory. “Stop looking so much like a witch.”
I glanced down at my attire. “A witch?” I thought I’d done a pretty good job dressing human for the occasion. “What part of me looks like a witch?”
“You walked in here holding a broomstick for starters,” she said. “And from the time you arrived to now, I’ve watched you remove a stain from your blouse with a charm, reapply lipstick with just your fingertip—no lipstick—and wave your hand to catch a book that was almost falling off the shelf.”
“I was just trying to help,” I grumbled. “It was going to fall on that old lady’s head.”
I nodded over to where a woman on the verge of a hundred years of age was running into bookshelves left and right. She reminded me of the three blind mice all combined into one frenetic woman determined to find her next good read. How she’d see the words on the page was beyond me.