by Janet Fox
Her first thought went to the missing chatelaine. She swallowed hard. How could she protect her brother and sister without it?
And then she remembered the doctor. He would come. They’d be saved. But Kat would have to explain the lost chatelaine to Great-Aunt Margaret. Well, she’d take that responsibility, as long as they could all get away from this terrible haunted place.
She left her warm bed and went to the window, staring into the gray dawn. The weather alternated ice and rain, and Kat hugged herself and shivered as the wind found its way into the castle. The snow was all gone.
Kat washed and bundled into her uniform and opened her door. The passage was silent and dim. She might have roused Peter and Rob, but it was so early.
Find the doctor. Then, she hoped, find the chatelaine.
She slipped down the stairs, heading for the kitchen. She hoped she’d catch Cook readying breakfast. Readying things for the doctor.
The castle was dark and her footsteps echoed, even as she tiptoed. When she reached the kitchen it was cold: no cheery fire, no pleasant smells, silent as a tomb. She stood in the semidarkness and chewed her lip.
Kat went to the door to the kitchen courtyard and eased it open.
The wind blasted her backward, and she held the door to keep it from banging wide. It was the devil to close, and she had to put her shoulder to it. But before she shut it she saw the headlights of the Lady’s motorcar coming in through the back gate, the lights in the gray rain bouncing from wall to wall in the close kitchen yard. Kat watched until the car pulled to a stop inside the garage bay across the court.
The giant heaved himself out of the driver’s seat and closed the garage door behind. Kat started. He wore a long black oilcloth greatcoat.
She closed the door tight and leaned back against it, rubbing her forehead.
Wait, she thought. He must have gone to fetch the doctor. Brought him in by the front door. Yes, that had to be it. Hugo wasn’t the enemy, despite that coat.
And the doctor was here. They were saved! The thrill of knowing that soon they’d all be off and home filled her heart. She could stand up to any number of thumpings from the Nazis, just to be back at Great-Aunt Margaret’s again with her brother and sister and Mum. Her great-aunt would understand about the lost chatelaine, as long as they were all safe and together.
Kat would wake the others and let them know. They’d need to be ready to leave. Joy surged in her. Home. They were going home!
She ran back upstairs to Peter and Rob’s door.
She didn’t dare pound, but she knocked as loud as she could and whispered, her mouth right against the jamb, “Peter! Rob! Wake up now!”
Within a minute the door opened. Peter held the door, still in his pajamas and scratching his head. She could see into the room, the two empty beds. There was no sign of Rob. She looked away, blushing at the sight of Peter in his pajamas. “Where’s Rob?”
“What?”
“Where is he?”
“Hang on,” Peter said.
She closed the door to an inch and heard Peter scrambling around the room. When he came back to the door he was clothed and finishing buttoning his shirt. His eyes were wide and his face ashen. The metallic taste of fear filled Kat’s mouth. He held a piece of paper in his hand, a note in Rob’s wobbly scrawl.
“Rob?” Kat asked, trying to calm herself, her heart racing so that she thought her chest would explode.
“He’s gone.”
Kat paced. “Out alone on the cliffs?” She wanted to kick herself. How she wished she hadn’t mentioned the black-coated figure to Rob.
Rob had written: Up early and saw that black-coated spy heading toward cliffs. Back soon.
“I don’t know how he snuck out without waking me.” Peter pursed his lips. “At least he took his sword. And his coat.”
Peter was trying to be comforting, but it wasn’t working.
Kat prayed Rob would show up for breakfast, but, no, and Cook was not at breakfast, either. Marie brought out some cold meats and cheeses and bread. Peter told the Lady that Rob didn’t feel well and was sleeping in, at which the Lady grew furious and left the dining hall. The five remaining children huddled together, whispering.
“Regardez,” said Isabelle as the door slammed shut behind the Lady. “She is angry about something. Something is amiss.”
“Yes, what’s amiss is Rob,” Kat said bitterly. And her chatelaine, but Kat couldn’t worry about both at once.
Storm was missing at breakfast, too, but MacLarren and Gumble kept a wary eye on the small band of students. Peter said, “We’re going to have to keep up the pretense for Rob’s sake, until he shows up.”
Colin said, “What if he’s, you know, like Jorry?”
“Oui,” said Isabelle. “Ill with spots.”
Kat’s throat burned. There was no going away with any doctor without Rob.
“Off you go,” said Marie, who came to clear the table.
“Did the doctor come for Jorry?” Peter asked her.
Marie stared at him. “Why, no. I don’t think so. At least . . .” She paused, rubbing her hand over her forehead. “This is a very confusing morning.”
Well, that settled it. No doctor. No rescue.
They went back to their rooms and Kat tried to finish her homework, but her mind was on Rob.
At lunch, Cook was back, and Kat felt a small glimmer of relief. But when Cook saw that Rob was not at the table, she set her lips and murmured to herself.
After lunch Kat ran for the kitchen, the others right behind.
Cook sat at the kitchen table, shaking her head. “I knew when her Ladyship sent me out early to the train but nobody was at the station that, well, something was not right. And then me getting stuck in the mud in the wagon and Hugo not around neither to pull me out until forever. It’s good I got back here at all.” She sighed. “All right. When did you last see him?”
Peter explained while Cook listened and Kat paced back and forth.
Cook leaned back on her stool. “So he’s gone wandering down toward the coast. I’ll fetch Hugo. He knows these cliffs and wastes like the back of his very big hand.”
Kat was certain that Hugo was not their enemy. Someone else must also wear a black greatcoat. When Hugo came in, Kat explained again about Rob.
“Ach.” Hugo rubbed his chin. “Well, now. Where to begin, that’s the question.”
“I’d begin with coats,” muttered Cook.
“Aye, too right. Cook, you are a smart one.” He dropped his voice and leaned over the children. “Where would we be without Cook, eh?” He raised up again. “Everyone fetch your warmest coats and hats and mittens, and we’ll meet back here in a jiff.”
A fog was starting to settle, dripping chill on brown grass. Kat was so anxious, she walked ahead of the others with the giant, who led them down the allée of trees.
“Don’t think he’d strike out across the moorlands,” Hugo said. “There’s naught between Rookskill Castle and the islands but hills after Dunraven, and the moors are no place to go, bleak they are, with naught but rocks and heather, and they say these wastes are full of the ghosts of highlanders. But the seacoast, now, he might be looking after ships and the like, what with all that’s going on these days and the waters filled with ships of all kinds.”
They reached the cliff edge. The water struck the rocks below them, pounding, pounding; seagulls wheeled and called, mournful; the sea gave up its salt smell in the mist around them.
“Ach!” said Hugo, going down on one knee. “Look here.” He lifted a button from the dense turf.
Kat’s heart kicked up. It was definitely one of Rob’s coat buttons; she recognized the lion’s head stamp. Hugo began walking north along the cliff, head bent as if he was tracking.
Hugo muttered to himself as he walked, and he picked up the pace, stridi
ng out with his giant’s reach. “Used to spend me time as a lad up here. Still remember these crags.” Kat now had to run to keep up with his long legs.
Kat and Hugo pulled away from the others, and her heart beat harder as a shaft of sunlight broke through the line of clouds, the sun now low on the horizon. How much time before dinner, before the Lady returned and caught them out? The useless watch weighed heavy on Kat’s wrist.
Then Hugo stopped, so abruptly that she ran smack into the back of his legs. The cliffs had lifted beside them so that they stood on a high point of land, the ocean to their right. Before them the slope dropped steeply to a deep ravine that released a narrow stream of water into the surf, and beyond the stream, a swath of green woods, and beyond that, Kat spied the high rolling rocky hills of the moors, glinting with low late light.
“Right here,” Hugo muttered. He raised his hand and pointed. “That’s Fairnie Burn, there,” he said, indicating the stream, “and that’s Dunraven Wood. So that means that right about here . . .” And he went to the sheer edge of the cliff and leaned over, looking down.
“Ho!” Hugo called into the salt air. “Ye found it, did ye?”
Hugo could reach his long arms down over the cliff face just far enough. By the time the others had caught up with Hugo and Kat, Hugo had hauled Robbie up and over the edge, where he lay panting and dirt-smudged, staring up at the sky.
“I know that ledge well, lad,” said Hugo. “Used to sit on it when I wanted to be left alone.”
“I couldn’t climb back up,” Rob said, wiping his forehead on his sleeve. “I thought I’d be there forever.” Then he sat straight up. “But I found the spy. And the wireless. Although there’s more than a wireless there. There’s another machine there. Something weird.”
Kat didn’t care about machines. She knelt down and wrapped Rob in a bear hug.
“Please, Kat,” Rob said, pushing her away, his cheeks turning pink. “For heaven’s sake don’t sniffle.”
She rubbed her eyes. She couldn’t help the tears. It had been a dreadful day. She wouldn’t scold him, grateful as she was that he was all right.
Peter pointed to the west, where the sun shot a last ray through the low clouds. “We’ve got barely enough time to get back.”
Rob filled Kat and Peter in as they ran back to the castle. Hugo carried Isabelle on his back and Amelie in his arms and he lumbered at a fast pace.
“I followed him,” Rob panted. “Your black coat fellow. Followed him, then hid in the trees and saw him disappear over the cliff and then climb back up and make for the castle. I waited till he was out of sight, then thought I could go down like he did and get back up again, but he’s taller . . .”
They tumbled into the front hall, and Hugo put the girls down. “I’ll be leaving you bairns. Be quick about it, now,” he said before trudging away. They threw off their coats, stashing them in a pile in the closet, and made a beeline for the dining hall.
Rob continued in a coarse whisper, “I got down to that ledge, and that’s when I found the cave.”
“Cave!” said Peter.
“There’s a cave there, right in the cliffs. And, well, that’s where I found the machines.”
The six of them surged into the dining hall, where the teachers and Lady waited at the head table. They stopped in a rough heap, trying to smooth ruffled hair and rumpled clothes.
The Lady drew herself up, examining them all, but especially the dirt-smeared Rob. “You are late.”
They ate in silence. Kat stole glances up at the head table. MacLarren and Gumble were stiff and careful; Storm looked odder than ever, thin—yes, thin!—and drawn, muttering to himself and glancing through narrowed eyes at everyone around him. The Lady seemed shrouded in a dark cloud.
When they finished dinner, the children trooped upstairs and gathered in a circle in the hallway. Kat asked Rob for more details.
“I know it was dumb to go alone,” Rob said, “but when I woke up and looked out and saw that guy in the black overcoat I remembered what you said and I had to follow. Especially since the wireless was missing and all. I thought maybe I was onto the spy. And I was, wasn’t I?”
“I’m just glad we found you in one piece,” Kat said. “And really, Rob, I should be mad, but I’m proud of you.”
Rob looked surprised, and then gave Kat a big smile.
She asked, “But what’s this other machine you saw?”
“I don’t know,” said Rob. “It’s like a typewriter of some kind. It has a keyboard and it was inside a wooden box with a lid, and above the keyboard were wheels and gears with numbers, and I couldn’t see where you’d put in paper like in an ordinary typewriter.”
Peter let out a low whistle and Kat rocked back. She knew what that machine was, and clearly Peter did, too. “An encryption machine,” she whispered.
“What’s that?” asked Colin.
“It’s a code machine,” Kat said. “Spies use them to translate things into code. So they can send information back.”
“Could it be that the spy, he is on our side?” asked Isabelle.
Peter shook his head and said, “Not likely. Why hide it in a cave? No, it’s probably the enemy. Kat, you were right all along. The Germans do have a spy here.”
Kat shivered. Somehow, she didn’t feel happy she was right.
“If you ask me,” said Robbie, “a Nazi spy is worse than a ghost, any day. But at least I can truly use my sword on a spy . . . Oh, no!” Robbie’s eyes grew round and he stood up.
“What, Rob?” Kat asked.
“My sword,” he said, his voice expressing his horror. “I left my sword—the castle’s sword—in the cave. The spy will know someone from the castle has been there.”
They all exchanged wide-eyed glances.
“We’d better get back there tomorrow,” said Peter. “We’ll want to get at that code machine anyway.”
“A code machine,” said Amelie. Her round cheeks were pink, her eyes bright. “A machine that makes new words and sends them away over the air. That sounds like magic.”
Kat stared at her sister. A mathematical device that translated letters into numbers and was made of pins and cogs and wheels, that was magic? “Well, until you unravel the secrets, I guess it is magical, a bit, Ame. But it’s really only a big and complicated puzzle. Once you figure it out, it’s not so magical after all.”
Amelie shook her head, curls tumbling. “It turns shadows into light.”
Kat opened her mouth and then closed it again. She was beginning to realize that there were times when Amelie spoke the truth. Kat leaned back against the wall. Was Rob right? Was a Nazi spy worse than some evil monster possessed of dark magic? That’s what she’d thought, at the beginning. Now she was not so sure. A spy was solid, real. Magic, well, that was still something slippery to Kat. Solid things first.
Solid things including her missing chatelaine. First thing in the morning she’d begin a concerted search.
If Kat had known that something in Rookskill Castle stole the souls of children, she might have changed her priorities.
36
Ice
KAT IS DRIFTING into sleep when they arrive: grinding, moaning, shivering sounds, slithering from one side of her bed to the other, and she lies still as death, trying not to cry out, trying to keep her face a mask. As the monster slides away she hears the soft shush as if a door closed.
She doesn’t move for what seems hours. And unlike the other times she’d heard the noises and thought she might have dreamed them, she does not fall asleep, but lies awake.
Moonlight streams through the curtains. The clock on the mantle, the one she has fixed and restarted so many times, has stopped again, the hands poised at ten past midnight.
Whatever that thing is, it has the power to stop clocks.
And the room is frigid.
37
The Seventh Charm: The Dog
THE LADY ELEANOR of Rookskill Castle catches Colin out before breakfast. She will not be interrupted this time, as she was with little Amelie. Eleanor, done with pretense, finished with kindness, won’t be stopped or delayed any longer.
“Tsk,” Eleanor says to Colin, scolding. “You know the rules. You’ve seen what happens. You should not be wandering about.”
Colin’s face drops; Eleanor is pleased. She’s planted such perfect seeds. “I was only . . .” His voice trails off. His eyes study the ground. He waits.
“There, now.” She pauses. “I think I have a suitable punishment. Do you like dogs?”
Colin’s face lifts again. For a moment he looks suspicious, and then his eyes brighten and he nods so hard, he might rattle apart.
“My favorite hound has whelped and her pups need attention. You can take care of them.”
It’s clear that this is anything but punishment to Colin. He dances around her as they walk. The chatelaine thumps against her hip; she has the dog charm clutched in her fist, ready.
Eleanor pushes the barn door aside, then closes it behind. “This way,” she says. She leads him past the empty stall to where one is dimly lit. Cats scatter into shadows as they pass.
Colin jumps and skips. To him, the barn smells of damp and hay. Maybe they were wrong about the Lady, if she loves dogs.
As they step around the stall door they see the slender hound and a pile of mewling puppies.
Eleanor reaches down and lifts up a puppy and hands it to Colin. She wipes her hand on her black coat, disgust filling her. To her, the barn smells of feces. The hound bares her teeth but doesn’t dare bite her mistress, a mistress now made more of metal than of soft flesh, metal that would cause great pain to the hound and her babies.
Growl at me, you filthy cur, thinks Eleanor. You’ll be sorry when I throw your pups into the well and turn you out into the snow.
But Colin is in heaven, cuddling and cooing. The pup’s eyes are still closed and it’s a small brown-and-white ball in his arms. Colin turns his bright eyes to Eleanor, talking baby talk to the wee thing.