Ravencliffe

by Carol Goodman

  Emmaline tried to explain that it wasn’t exactly a clock tower—there wasn’t even a clock in the tower—but Taddie insisted it was, and that it meant it was safe because clocks kept us safe. As if to illustrate his point of view, the clocks of Violet House began to chime the hour. Since Raven had fixed them, they chimed in synchronicity, each tune blending with the others into a symphony that, indeed, made me feel safe—both parts of me, Darkling and human. Uncle Taddie was right. Thaddeus Sharp had designed the clocks to safeguard Violet House from all harm. It would be nice, I thought as I ate another scone, if the Woolworth Building had been designed to do the same.

  On the day of the meeting I traveled down to the city with Daisy and Etta and a dozen other girls. We had been told that we couldn’t all attend the meeting, but everyone wanted to be there to lend their support and admire the view from the observatory.

  “If Helen were here she’d wonder why they were all so anxious to see a view they nearly plummeted to their deaths from two months ago,” Daisy remarked wistfully.

  “I miss her, too,” I said, squeezing Daisy’s hand. “My grandmother says she’s doing much better and she’ll be there today.”

  “I know. She wrote to tell me. Nathan will be there, too. I think it’s so wonderful how he’s been taking care of her—and so romantic! Do you think they’ll get married? If they wait until we graduate we could have a double ceremony.”

  “I doubt matters have progressed that far,” I said, trying to curb my irritation. Since Mr. Appleby had taken Daisy back, after she’d written to explain that she’d been overtaxed with studying when she broke off their engagement, she’d talked of little else but wedding plans. It was beginning to wear on my nerves. But when I looked at her now I saw that despite her bright smile she had a worried look in her eyes. Even if the Council approved her marriage to Mr. Appleby, she might never be able to share the secrets of the Order with him. We’d all learned this year what the cost of keeping secrets was.

  “We’ll see,” I told Daisy. “We don’t even know what will come of this meeting. Our people might be at war. I hardly think it’s time to be talking about marriage.”

  Daisy shrugged and turned to talk to Myrtilene about wedding customs in Savannah, and I looked out the window, hoping for a glimpse of the Darkling Elders flying to the city. Raven was flying with them, as well as my father, who was going to serve as an index to A Darkness of Angels. But I couldn’t make out anything through the fog that I suspected was caused by the changelings traveling down to the city. They had been called to the meeting, too, to help decide the fate of Rue, who had been staying at Violet House with Ruth and pretending to be her cousin from Warsaw. I wished Raven could have ridden on the train with me.

  My grandmother sent her limousine to the station to take us downtown, which was embarrassing, but the girls were delighted and all crammed in, Cam in front with Babson, whom she interrogated all the way downtown about Rolls-Royce engines. I barely got a word in edgewise to find out that he’d already brought Helen, Nathan, and my grandmother downtown earlier.

  “Mrs. Hall wanted to be there first,” Babson confided. “To make sure she got the best seat before Mrs. van Hassel.”

  “I hope she hasn’t been overstraining herself with all this,” I said.

  “It’s done her good,” Babson replied. “She looks ten years younger. She’s a fighter, your grandmother. Just like you.”

  I was heartened by Babson’s belief in me, just as I had before the Montmorency ball ten months ago, but when we pulled up in front of the Woolworth Building I felt as intimidated as I had in front of the Montmorency mansion. It was such an imposing edifice. Entering the marble Gothic lobby I thought of what the press called it: the Cathedral of Commerce. What it felt like to me was a cathedral of power—the Order’s power. Now I felt sure they had chosen this meeting place to intimidate the Darklings and the madges and put us all in our places.

  But if that were their purpose, it hadn’t worked on Kid Marvel. He was standing at the elevators in a shiny suit, crisp fedora, and a pink carnation boutonniere.

  “There they are—the belles of Blythewood!” he cried out, twirling a walking stick like the Coney Island spieler he was. “Your chariot awaits.” He waved us into an open elevator and hit the button with his cane. “The express takes you to the fifty-first floor in only one and three-quarter minutes. I’ve been going up and down in it all morning. It’s one hell of a ride! Hold on to your hats, ladies!”

  Some of the girls literally grabbed their hats. Having flown over this building, I felt sure that I need take no such precaution, but when the elevator rose swiftly up I wished I could hold on to my stomach to keep it from rising into my throat. I was relieved when the doors opened on the fifty-first floor.

  “The observatory is just up the stairs, ladies,” Kid announced like he owned the building. “Go give it a gawk. Not you, sister.” He grabbed me by the elbow and steered me down a corridor. Daisy gave me a curious look, but I waved her on without me. Kid Marvel propelled me into a small room off the corridor. It was lavishly furnished with velvet couches and Persian rugs. It looked to be some sort of waiting room. At least the people in it all seemed to be waiting . . . for me.

  Delilah approached me first. She was veiled but wearing a smart green baize jacket and skirt. “Miss Hall,” she addressed me formally, with none of the frivolity of the hootchy-kootchy dancer I’d first met at Coney Island. “We are glad you are here. We would like a moment of your time to ask a favor of you.”

  “Of course,” I said, looking around the room. I saw Omar and Shango and the other madges I’d met at the Henry Street House. At first I didn’t notice the changelings until they shifted on the couches and I saw they had absorbed the rich red velvet and gold embroidery of the upholstery. Only Rue, sitting between Ruth and Etta, was in human form. “What can I do for you?”

  “We would like you to speak for us,” Delilah said.

  “But isn’t Omar representing you?” I asked. “That’s what Dame Beckwith told me.”

  “Yes,” Omar said. “I am honored to have been chosen as the representative of these good people. But we are concerned that my voice will not be enough to sway the tide of the Council’s opinion.”

  “But you’re the most convincing person I know,” I blurted.

  Omar smiled and inclined his head. “That is precisely the problem. The Council will think I am trying to mesmerize them, even though I have sworn not to use my hypnotic skills. But if one of their own should speak for us—”

  “But I’m not one of their own,” I protested. “I don’t belong wholly to either the Order or the Darklings. I’m on trial here myself—they might exile me.”

  “We understand if you do not want to risk aligning yourself with us if you think it will hurt your standing—”

  “No!” I cut in, appalled how he’d taken my words. “That’s not it at all. I would be proud to stand beside any one of you. I just don’t know how much help I will be.”

  “I think you underestimate your power,” Delilah said softly. “You combine the best of both worlds—Darkling and human—and your experience has forged you into something wholly yourself: a phoenix, what my people call a Benu, the sun-bird, she who creates herself. We believe you can do whatever you set out to achieve, and if you speak for us, the Council will accept us.”

  “And if they do chuck you out,” Kid Marvel added, “you’ll always have a place with us.”

  I wondered if that meant at Coney Island. I smiled at Kid Marvel and gazed into Delilah’s feline eyes. I didn’t know if she was right about me, but I did know that I owed these people my life and the lives of my friends. “I would be honored to speak for you,” I told them.

  I approached the meeting room feeling stronger than before, not just because of the madges’ belief in me, but because I was no longer thinking only of myself. The madges were counting on me.
My friends were counting on me. I straightened my spine, feeling the weight of my wings pull my shoulder blades back, raised my chin, and opened the door.

  I was expecting some sort of conference room with a big long table, the opposing sides of Darklings and the Order arrayed on either side. Instead it was as if I had stepped inside a giant clock. Eight steeply sloping walls were clad in brass gears and bells shining in the bright light pouring through an open skylight. Even the floor was paved in brass. At the center was a raised disk, rimmed with a low bench on which sat Mrs. van Hassel flanked by Lucretia Fisk and Atalanta Jones, the other bird-hatted ladies from my admission interview; as well as Dame Beckwith, Professor Jager, my grandmother, and, surprisingly, Mrs. Calendar. The Darkling Elders were perched on ledges about the room. I recognized Merlinus, Wren and Gos. I also saw my father, who sat between Master Quill and Miss Corey. And Raven. I let out my breath when I saw him.

  A short balding man, who looked familiar but whom I couldn’t place, was standing in the center of the room holding a long bamboo cane in one hand and a folio in the other. Uncle Taddie was sitting cross-legged at his feet, rocking back and forth like a pendulum. When he saw me he jumped to his feet and excitedly waved me in.

  “It’s Papa’s clock made huge!” he exclaimed, his eyes bulging. He was vibrating with excitement.

  Actually, I realized, we were all vibrating. The entire room was moving, the gears clicking slowly but steadily, the central disk revolving in infinitesimal degrees. It made me feel a bit seasick. Mrs. van Hassel looked distinctly green.

  “Yes, I see,” I told Taddie. “It is a big clock. But where’s its face? There’s no clock on the outside of the building.”

  The short bald man pointed his cane to the ceiling—and as he did, I recognized him. It was Mr. Humphreys, the clockmaker Raven was apprenticed to. I looked up and saw that the skylight was fitted with an iron grill that somewhat resembled a clock—or perhaps a compass. The circle’s face was divided into quarters inside a brass ring, illustrating the sections of a globe. An arrow spun around the circumference. It reminded me of the game the nestlings played to choose who went first or got first choice of rooms. Round and round the arrow goes . . .

  Suddenly a dozen or more gears clicked into place and struck the bells. I braced myself for a deafening peal, but the bells were silent. But their vibrations shook the entire room and rose up in the octagonal chamber and out the skylight. Closing my eyes I could feel the vibrations spreading out around the building—and farther, over the entire city, cloaking New York like a giant glass bell jar.

  I opened my eyes when the vibrations ceased.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “It’s a protective shield designed by Mr. Humphreys,” Dame Beckwith said, smiling at the old clockmaker.

  “I couldn’t have done it if my apprentice hadn’t told me about the clocks in Violet House,” Mr. Humphreys said, smiling at Raven.

  “It was Uncle Taddie who gave me the idea,” Raven said modestly. “He showed me how his father had made the clocks to protect the house. I told Mr. Humphreys about them, but I didn’t know what he’d do.”

  “Mr. Humphreys told me,” Dame Beckwith said, “and I referred him to Mr. Gilbert and Mr. Woolworth. We thought if the clocks could protect a house, then perhaps a larger version of them could protect a whole city.”

  “That’s why van Drood wanted to destroy the building?” I said.

  “Yes,” Mrs. van Hassel said, “which we might have anticipated had anyone alerted the Council to this clock project.”

  “It was to be unveiled after the official opening ceremony,” Dame Beckwith replied, glaring at Mrs. van Hassel. “Of course we didn’t know that van Drood had found out about the clocks or had infiltrated Blythewood with the dancing master.”

  “It seems to me that if you ran your school properly such things would not happen,” Mrs. van Hassel sniped back at Dame Beckwith.

  “We all have our weaknesses.”

  The voice came from above, from the ledge where my father perched. He pushed himself off the ledge and glided to the center of the room, his wings rustling with the sound of paper. He looked at me as he spoke. “Van Drood uses our weaknesses against us, as a crack to let in the tenebrae. He used my own fears to convince me to leave my beloved and my child years ago instead of taking them with me into exile, and he’s used our animosity against each other to make us weak. All these years he’s plotted to destroy both of us: the Order for prohibiting his marriage to Evangeline, and the Darklings because of Evangeline’s love for me. But what started as petty jealousy and resentment has grown into a hatred for all mankind—and Darklingkind and faykind. We are all at risk. Van Drood’s ambitions have only grown with his hatred.”

  “It’s true,” Professor Jager said, rising from his seat. “The tenebrae have been gathering throughout Europe, seeding dissent and hatred in the Balkan States, infiltrating governments in Austria, France, England—even our brother school Hawthorn has been attacked this year. We believe that van Drood is planning a great war, one that will cause such turmoil and pain among mankind that his shadows will have dominion forever.”

  “Then we must stop him!” Mrs. van Hassel cried, rapping her cane on the brass floor. “The Order must stand strong, as it always has, to defeat the powers of evil. We must not allow ourselves to be compromised by Darklings and demons now of all times—”

  “No!” Miss Corey slid down from her ledge in one graceful movement and came to stand beside my father. “Now of all times is exactly when we must join with the Darklings against the shadows. That’s what Dame Alcyone knew and wrote about in her book. She foresaw there would come a time when the shadows would threaten to overcome the world and that the only hope was a joining between the Order and the Darklings. She wrote—” She turned to my father. “If you wouldn’t mind, Mr. Falco.”

  “Not at all, Miss Corey,” my father replied. He extended his wings until they filled the entire room. The illuminated pages of Dame Alcyone’s book glimmered like peacock’s eyes amidst his feathers. Miss Corey gently riffled through the pages until she found the place she was looking for, and then read aloud:

  “And the shadow will fall between man and Darkling and spread throughout the land, a plague of shadows searching for their lost home. Out of the shards of the broken vessel a new light will shine—a phoenix born of Darkling and human, to drive the shadows away. Unless we two are joined, the third vessel will be broken and the shadows will prevail.”

  Mrs. van Hassel tsked. “That’s all very . . . florid. How do we know it was really written by Dame Alcyone?”

  “Because,” Mrs. Calendar said in a reedy but clear voice, “that line—Out of the shards of the broken vessel a new light will shine—is part of the secret code of the Order. Only a member of the Order would know it.”

  Lucretia Fisk spoke up. “Junessa’s right, you know. We learned that in codes and sigils senior year.”

  “That’s all very well for you.” Gos sneered from his perch. “How do we know this isn’t a trick to entrap the Darklings?”

  “Because,” Wren replied, “we have a prophesy, too—that when a phoenix is fledged our curse will end.”

  “But who—” Gos began.

  Raven and Miss Sharp and Miss Corey were all looking at me. I took off my cloak. Miss Janeway had made me a special shirtwaist and undergarment (corsets, she had told me, were on their way out) to allow my wings to unfold without tearing or burning my clothes. I spread them now, and heard the indrawn breath of Darkling and human alike. I felt the heat in my own face at being stared at, but then I remembered my promise.

  “We’ve only talked about Darklings and humans,” I said. “But we’re nothing without the fairies and the other magicals who helped us defeat van Drood. We have to all join together.”

  As I waited for a reply I felt more exposed than I’d ever felt before. But th
en I looked around and saw that I was surrounded by glowing faces. It was the reflection of my wings in the brass walls bathing us all in a golden glow—a glow so strong it banished the shadows.

  “I think that’s only fair,” Dame Beckwith said. “What do you say, Ansonia?”

  Mrs. van Hassel looked like she wanted to say a lot of unpleasant things, but she only muttered, “I suppose beggars can’t be choosers. I move to suspend all hostilities toward any magical beings who refrain from provoking us.”

  “I second the motion,” my grandmother said.

  “All in favor?” Professor Jager asked.

  Everyone chimed in their agreement.

  “Well then,” Professor Jager said, “there are treaties to be drawn up!”

  As he sat down on the bench with Master Quill, rubbing his hands together, I drew in my wings and a shadow passed over the skylight. I looked up, frightened it was a murder of shadow crows, but saw instead an enormous silvery balloon suspended above the tower.

  “Ah, the dirigible is here,” Mr. Humphreys declared. “Mr. Woolworth ordered it for us. You’d best hurry,” he told Raven and me, “if you want to catch a ride back to Blythewood.”

  Raven looked at me and I grabbed his hand. “We have to,” I said, “if only to see Cam’s reaction.”

  He grinned and pulled me from the room, leaving behind the adults to their treaties and declarations. We passed Omar and Delilah as they were called inside the tower room and rushed up the spiral steps to the observatory deck where the giant silver-skinned dirigible was moored to the slender pinnacle of the tower. Cam was already on the plank laid down to the dirigible’s door. A flock of Blythewood girls stood at the railing, their hair and ribbons tossing in the wind. I saw Nathan, hands in his pockets, chatting with a uniformed engineer. “I bet you want to talk to him, too,” I said to Raven.