Ravencliffe

by Carol Goodman

“Yes, I think my friends have got things under control,” Raven replied, surveying the room.

  “Maybe for now,” said Nathan, “But we have to get to the bell tower. The others must have run into a problem.” He, too, was looking around the room. When his eyes came to rest on the investors, his brow furrowed. They were clustered together now, looking disgruntled. “I do wonder what they’re planning, though.”

  “Oh, let me go find out,” Daisy cried. “I’ve always wanted to be a spy.”

  “Be careful, Daisy,” I said. “Van Drood is channeling himself through them. They might try to mesmerize you again.”

  “And you be careful,” Raven said. “All of you. They’ll have placed guards on the bell tower.”

  I turned back to say good-bye to Raven. “Thank you—”

  He raised my hand to his lips and kissed my fingers. “It’s always a pleasure to dance with you, Miss Hall,” he said formally. “I hope we shall have many more dances.” Then he swept away.

  I turned back to find Nathan’s eyes on me. I expected him to say something about Raven, but all he said was, “Let’s go.”

  We hurried to the North Wing and found Miss Sharp, Miss Corey, and Mr. Bellows on the last landing before the belfry. Seven Dianas were standing guard in front of the door, bows drawn, eyes glazed. Their training makes it easier for me to get inside their heads, van Drood had once told me. I had no doubt that they would shoot us if we tried to get past them, and there wasn’t any room to navigate in the narrow passage.

  I held the repeater in my hand and pressed the stem. All evening I’d had it programmed to play the de-mesmerizing tune, but now it played a refrain from Die Puppenfee. It must be picking up the tune inside the Dianas’ heads, I thought. Hastily, I stopped it before it mesmerized the rest of us.

  I stepped toward Georgiana, who stood in the center of the line, and heard the vibration of her bow string as she pulled it a fraction tighter, adjusting her stance so the tip of her arrow was aimed directly at my heart.

  I heard the deep bass bell tolling in my head, signaling danger. Not just for me, but for all of Blythewood. I knew that if I couldn’t get past the Dianas something terrible would happen. Something terrible was happening. Beneath the tolling of the bell I heard the orchestra playing Die Puppenfee again. Then I heard a loud crack—as if the very stones of the castle had snapped under the strain of the ice holding us captive.

  “Gunfire,” Nathan said. “We should go back—”

  “Wait!” I said, even though every fiber of my being ached to go to Raven. “We have to get to the bells. And I think I know how.”

  I closed my eyes. Inside my head the only sound was the bass gong of my danger bell, banishing everything else. I could feel its vibrations deep in my belly and in the tips of my fingers and toes. I could taste the metallic tang of the bell’s clapper on my tongue. I concentrated on the ringing of the bell and let myself hear all the fears that went with each toll. Fear of being exposed as a monster, fear of losing my home, my friends, Raven . . . fear of making a choice and having it be the wrong one . . . I let myself feel each one of those fears until I thought I would explode with the weight of them.

  And then I drove the bell out of my head. I felt it rise out of me and move up into the belfry, where the bells of Blythewood began to ring out—only the sound they made was muted. They had been muffled. They were loud enough, though, to get through to the Dianas. Georgiana was blinking as though she wasn’t sure where she was.

  “Now!” I cried, reaching for her bow. I plucked it out of her now-limp hands. Helen yanked Alfreda Driscoll’s bow, screaming, “Ha!” My friends were able to disarm the other Dianas and then we were racing up into the belfry. We ripped off the cotton batting that had been wrapped around the bell clappers to mute the bells—that was why they hadn’t rung out!—and then each took a rope while Nathan called out the changes to muster the bells into order. We rang the de-mesmerizing tune again and again. As we did, the ice clinging to the castle cracked and fell to the ground.

  Then I heard someone scream.

  I peered over the battlement to see who had been struck by the falling icicles. I was hoping it was Herr Hofmeister, but it was one of the investors. He was lying on the flagstones, flailing his arms like a cockroach. Herr Hofmeister stood above him yelling to “be quick about it—the sleighs are leaving!”

  I looked up at the drive. The sleighs were pulled up to the door, where they were being loaded . . .

  With girls.

  I heard Daisy’s voice rise up. “Oh, a sleigh ride, what ripping fun!” Then I heard Beatrice Jager cry, “I’ve never been on a sleigh!”

  “No!” I screamed. “Don’t go with them!”

  But the bells drowned out my voice. Shouldn’t the bells have banished the spell by now?

  “Oh,” I heard Daisy again, her voice less gleeful now. “I say, perhaps another time.”

  But she was silenced by a man in a beaver coat who shoved her into the sleigh. I heard other girls objecting now, but it was too late. The sleighs were moving out, their bells jangling madly as they raced, not to the drive as I expected, but down to the river. The sleighs slid onto the ice, where they were swallowed by a cloak of shadows—the tenebrae rising from under the ice to flock around the sleighs—and then disappeared into the night with the stolen girls.

  When we got downstairs we found the Darklings held at gunpoint by a gang of tough-looking men—the sleigh drivers, I realized. Behind the Darklings were a group of girls and teachers huddled in a mass. The Darklings had spread their wings to keep the sleigh drivers from taking the rest of the girls, but they couldn’t attack the drivers without getting shot themselves. When the sleigh drivers saw us, their leader yelled, “Let’s go, boy-os!” and with a volley of pistol shots aimed at the ceiling, they fled outside into the last remaining sleigh. Mr. Bellows, Nathan, Raven, and Marlin ran after them. I joined them.

  “We’ll follow the sleighs,” Raven yelled, his wings spread out for flight. “You stay here and make sure there’s no residual spell. Don’t worry; we’ll find them.” He took to the sky with Marlin and two other Darklings following. My wings itched to go with them, but the sounds from inside—moans, shrieks, hysterical crying—told me I was needed here.

  I went inside and found a scene of utter chaos. Dolores Jager ran past me, looking for her sister, until Cam grabbed her and told her that Beatrice had been among the girls taken in the sleighs.

  “But she can’t have gone without me!” she cried. They were the first words I’d ever heard from her.

  A crowd of students was huddled around a small body on the floor. I thought it was a girl at first, but as I got closer I saw it was Gillie. Dame Beckwith crouched over him, pressing her shawl to the wound in his chest. She was calling for Mr. Malmsbury to help her carry him to the infirmary.

  Seeing me, she demanded to know where the rest of the girls had gone. When I told her that they had been taken in the sleighs, her face fell. She seemed to age ten years in ten seconds.

  “But Raven and the others are following them,” I said, trying to sound more optimistic than I felt. “They’re sure to find them and rescue them.”

  A strangled sound came from Gillie. Dame Beckwith leaned down, angling her ear to Gillie’s lips, which were working to form words. I knelt beside him and listened with my Darkling ears.

  “Send . . . the . . . hawks.”

  “He wants us to send the hawks after the girls,” I said.

  “Of course!” Dame Beckwith cried, her eyes shining. “You’ve trained them to track the girls, haven’t you? Is there a command?”

  He shook his head, his eyes on me. “Ava . . .” he gasped. “Ava . . . knows . . .” Before he could finish, his eyes rolled back and he passed out.

  “What did he say?” Dame Beckwith cried, staring at me.

  “That I know how.” I saw Dame Beckwith�
��s eyes widen. The only creatures other than Gillie who knew how to speak to birds were Darklings.

  “I, er, heard him practicing with the hawks once. I think I know the command.”

  “Then go,” Dame Beckwith said, freeing one hand from Gillie’s to clasp mine. She was looking at me as fiercely as a hawk. “Do whatever you have to do to get our girls back.”

  I nodded, got to my feet, and ran up the stairs.

  On the fourth-floor landing I went out the window to the fire escape that led to the roof. As I crossed the roof to the mews I heard the hawks beating their wings in their cages and crying out shrilly. They knew that something was wrong.

  When I opened the mews door I was shocked at what I saw. The usually clean and ordered pens were filled with feathers and blood. The birds were flinging themselves against their wire cages, so frantic to get out they had bloodied themselves in their efforts.

  I stood in the doorway, panting from my sprint up the stairs, their panic infecting me. I was a Darkling. I should know how to talk to birds. I’d seen Raven do it, but I had no idea how.

  I tried English first.

  “Blodeuwedd,” I said, addressing the great horned owl who was Gillie’s favorite.

  At the sound of her name she stopped the frantic beating of her wings and turned her huge yellow eyes on me.

  “Gillie’s been hurt,” I said, feeling foolish talking to the great solemn owl, but then I poured it all out. “Men possessed by shadows have taken our girls!” She swiveled and tilted her head as I talked. I opened her cage and put out my hand, though without a glove, her powerful talons could snap off my fingers. She was still in an excited state; if she didn’t understand me, she might claw my eyes out, too. But she hopped obediently onto my hand. Emboldened, I opened all the cages.

  The hawks and falcons hurtled out—kestrels, peregrines, goshawks, and lastly, the two prized gyrfalcons that Mr. Montmorency had bought—a mated pair named Eirwyn and Gwynfor. I feared they might fly in a dozen directions before I could command them, but instead they followed me as I walked to the edge of the roof and stood at the parapet with Blodeuwedd on my hand. Below us the frozen lawns gleamed in the moonlight, but the Hudson was covered with a thick blanket of fog. Our girls had vanished into it. I felt the sting of tears in my eyes. Digging in my pocket for a handkerchief, I came up with Daisy’s, which she’d given me earlier. I held it in front of Blodeuwedd, as I’d seen Gillie do with the feathers of smaller birds he wanted the the hawks and falcons to hunt. “Find Daisy,” I told Blodeuwedd. “Find them all and tell us where they are so we can bring them back.”

  Blodeuwedd turned her yellow eyes on me. Their glow warmed something inside me. Then she opened her hooked beak and uttered a shrill cry. The falcons echoed her. “Go!” I cried, only what came out wasn’t a human’s voice but a wild bird’s cry. I watched the birds rise into the night until the white feathers of the twin gyrfalcons faded into the night sky like stars at dawn.

  I went downstairs, checking first on the fourth floor to see that the remaining nestlings were all right. Cam and Myrtilene had them all crowded into one room, wrapped in shawls and sipping hot cocoa. Then I went down to the library, where I found Helen, Miss Corey, and Miss Sharp.

  Unable to face going to our room without Daisy, we sat the rest of the night in the library, sitting by the window, watching the fog lighten to a pearly gray. My eyes were beginning to droop when Helen grabbed my hand. I startled awake and saw a figure appearing out of the fog—a winged figure, black against the gray, one wing dragging along the icy lawn.

  I jumped up and ran out the door, my feet slipping on the ice. I heard Helen running behind me and calling my name, but I didn’t listen to her. I just had to reach him.

  It wasn’t Raven; it was Marlin. I skidded to a halt. Helen rushed past me and caught Marlin’s arm as he fell to one knee. His face was as gray as the fog. Blood dripped on the ice from his broken wing.

  “What happened?” I cried, taking his other arm.

  “We followed them down the river nearly to the city. We had just caught up with them . . . there’s a spot where a creek feeds into the river. The currents are tricky there. The ice began to break up. The sleighs . . . they just vanished! We tried to follow them but the ice suddenly . . . exploded! It was like a volcano erupting. The water was churning in a whirlpool, the force so strong that it would have sucked us all into it. Raven shouted for us to get back . . . and then . . .” Marlin shuddered, unable to speak for a moment. Helen stroked his arm. I wanted to shake him.

  “And then?” I prompted. “What happened to Raven?”

  “It grabbed him.”

  “It?”

  “The . . . monster in the whirlpool. It was huge, with dozens of tentacles. They wrapped around Raven. I attacked it, stabbed it, but it wouldn’t let go. I saw its mouth . . . a giant maw full of razor-sharp teeth . . .” He shuddered and I shook, recalling the kraken from my nightmare.

  “It struck me, broke my wing, then tossed me onto the riverbank. I couldn’t move. I watched while . . .”

  “What?” I screamed. “What did it do to Raven?”

  “It dragged him under the ice.”

  29

  THE PARENTS OF the remaining girls sent sleighs for them the day after the party. They left in a dead hush, with none of the shouts and cheerful farewells of last year’s end-of-term leave-taking. Dame Beckwith stood on the steps to speak with the drivers and the few parents who came themselves, but most would not even look at her—except for Mr. Driscoll, who shouted at her for a full fifteen minutes and then turned away in disgust.

  “They invited those men,” I complained to Helen as we stood at the second-floor-landing window watching the exodus. “How can they blame Dame Beckwith for what happened?”

  “Because otherwise they’d have to blame themselves,” Helen replied. Then she turned away and went to the infirmary, where Marlin lay, bandaged and ashen faced. I went down to see off the last sleigh, which Nathan and Mr. Bellows were taking back to the city to look for the girls. As I approached I saw that a white bird was perched on Mr. Bellows’ shoulder. Her wings looked ragged, as if some creature had pecked at it, but I recognized her as the female gyrfalcon, Eirwyn.

  “She’s the only one that came back,” Mr. Bellows explained, smoothing the gyr’s feathers. “She showed up at your grandmother’s house last night pursued by shadow crows. Agnes sent her back with a message from Sam Greenfeder. He says his inquiries have led him to a property in the Bronx, which is also where the sleigh left the river.”

  “We’ll search every house in the Bronx for the girls . . . and Raven,” Nathan said through gritted teeth. “He might have been taken by them when he came out of the maelstrom.”

  I nodded. We both knew it was unlikely that Raven had survived, but it was kind of Nathan to pretend that he might be alive. Especially since he looked half-frozen himself. His face had taken on that shadowed look again, the brief flush of happiness I’d seen yesterday wiped clean by the night’s events. I knew that our girls being taken had prodded the open wound of what had happened to Louisa.

  “Don’t you get lost, too,” I said.

  “We won’t,” Mr. Bellows said with a wistful look at Miss Sharp, who had come with Miss Corey to see him off. “You take care of her,” he said to Miss Corey. As he turned to jump on the sleigh runner, his red scarf fluttering in the breeze, Eirwyn leapt onto my shoulder, emitting a plaintive cry. I didn’t need to understand bird language to know she was lamenting her lost companions.

  When the last sleigh bell faded in the distance, the castle was left in a pall of silence. Miss Sharp and Miss Corey headed to the library, where they planned to comb through the books for any mention of a hellgate. I brought Eirwyn to the infirmary, where Dame Beckwith was sitting beside Gillie’s bed. The gryfalcon instantly flew to the iron bedstead and perched above Gillie’s head, mantling her feathe
rs as if to protect him, even though it was too late. Gillie lay as though dead, his skin a sickly green, the color of pond scum. When I told Dame Beckwith that Nathan and Mr. Bellows had gone to the city to look for the girls, she paled.

  “Am I to lose my son, too?” she asked, looking down at poor Gillie. “The only one who could find our lost girls lies here dying because of me. Mr. Driscoll was right—I was a fool for letting those men near our girls.”

  “But Mr. Driscoll was one of the Council who invited those men to Blythewood!”

  “He says he and others were bewitched, but that the bells of Blythewood should have rung out against their evil intent—just as they should have rung out against Herr Hofmeister.”

  “I think,” I said slowly, putting together what I’d seen last night, “that van Drood has found a way past our defenses. He controls his puppets from afar. They get past our wards and bells because the puppets are empty of ill intent until he activates them.”

  “Jude always said our defenses were weak,” she said ruefully.

  “But it’s his weakness that he can’t show himself here in the flesh. And he can only control those who are weak. He has to find a way in—a vulnerability to prey on. He can’t control us if we stay strong.”

  Dame Beckwith’s eyes flashed, and I was afraid I’d insulted her. Who was I to lecture her about strength? But then she squared her mouth and replied, “Yes, you’re right, Ava. We must stay strong for those who depend on us.”

  I left her and Helen sitting by their patients. Eirwyn came with me, perching on my shoulder as I climbed up to the bell tower. From the top of the tower I could see in all directions: north to the Blythe Wood, east to River Road, west to the Catskills, and south along the frozen river that led to the city. All approaches to the castle lay frozen and wrecked, and standing at its summit, I felt as though I were stranded on an iceberg in an arctic sea, watching the horizon for rescue.

  I stood there each day with Eirwyn until my lips turned blue from the cold and I could no longer feel my fingers and toes. I told myself we were waiting for the other hawks and Blodeuwedd to come back, but only when I was close to the sky did I feel close to Raven. I remembered what he’d said to me that night in the woods—that when I’d been in my trance he’d felt like a part of himself was missing. That’s how I felt now, as if the very wind that touched my face was empty because he did not ride upon it.