Molly darted past the sprawling form of Jenna, into her room. She slammed the door shut; the last thing she saw before it closed was the dark man reaching the top of the landing. She could feel him looking at her with his formless face.
Gasping with fear, Molly fumbled with the bolt on the door, finally sliding it home. She turned and looked toward the window, her only hope of escape now. But she was four stories up; to get out that way, first she had to find the locket. She dropped to her hands and knees and, by the dim, flickering light of the oil lamp, began frantically searching the floor.
As she did, she heard a groaning sound right outside her door. And she felt the air growing colder.
CHAPTER 64
THE BLACK POOL
OMBRA’S SHIFTING FORM hovered alongside the blinded Jenna, who groveled at the hem of his cape, her ink-stained eyes stinging painfully. The knife, with its shining blade, lay on the floor between them.
“My lord…” said Jenna, “I’m sorry. Forgive me. I—”
“A knife?” came the low wheeze of Ombra’s voice. “You might have hurt her.”
“I beg you, my lord—”
“We need her, you fool.”
“I only meant to—”
“You dare disobey my instructions?”
As he spoke, Ombra moved so that his cloaklike shape edged over the maid’s shadow, cast by the hall’s flickering wall lamp. Jenna’s stinging, bloodshot eyes widened in fear.
“No!” she cried, trying to scramble away on the floor. “I’m sorry, Lord Ombra! Please!”
But it was too late. Jenna’s shadow, where it touched Ombra, was turning bloodred. The coloration spread rapidly across her shadow to her feet, then through her legs into her black-and-white uniform, disappearing briefly until it appeared again on her arms, her neck, her face.
Jenna, her entire body crimson now, writhed on the floor in agony, her voice weakening.
“Please…no…”
Ombra stepped off her shadow. Instantly the redness began receding from her body, flowing back into his cape, as if sucked into a huge black sponge. Jenna’s skin returned to its sallow, pale color. Her eyes wept indigo tears.
“You will remain here,” Ombra said, “and await my orders. You will obey my orders exactly.”
Jenna nodded vigorously.
Ombra turned the doorknob, pushed: the door was locked. He looked down at the bottom of the door. And then he disappeared.
Except that he had not disappeared. Where he had stood, now there was only a shadow—a black, lightless pool on the floor, next to the crack at the bottom of the door.
Silently, the shadow began to flow forward under the door, and into Molly’s room.
CHAPTER 65
AN URGENT SEARCH
PETER PERCHED ON a narrow ledge outside the third floor of the house. He had been flying from window to window—the house had dozens—peering painstakingly into each one, looking, without success, for Molly. He’d tried opening them, but they were latched shut. He’d also considered breaking one, but the panes were too small for him to climb through.
A few minutes earlier he’d heard muffled screams; these had drawn him to the window of the room he stood outside now. He’d gotten there just in time to see a lady-—not Molly—being dragged out by Slank and another man.
Now, looking down at the front walk, he saw the lady being carried roughly to the cab. She was putting up a game fight, but she was no match for the two men. Peter hesitated, wanting to help the woman, but knowing that he could not leave Molly alone in the house. He watched helplessly as the men forced the lady into the cab; two of the other men climbed in after her. The driver flicked the reins, and in a moment the cab disappeared into the foggy night.
Peter turned back to the house and resumed going window to window. His search was all the more urgent now. The dark-cloaked man had not emerged from the house. He was still inside, no doubt looking for Molly.
Peter had to find her first.
CHAPTER 66
THE ENVELOPE
MOLLY ON HANDS AND KNEES, swept her eyes back and forth along the floor, desperately searching by the dim lamplight for the fallen locket.
She tried not to think about what was on the other side of her door. She’d heard Jenna’s voice—an awful, agonized cry, an inhuman groaning. She tried to concentrate her mind only on finding the locket, and not on whoever, whatever, was making that sound.
She jumped as the doorknob rattled. The door moved as pressure was applied from the other side, but the bolt held. Molly ran her hands along the floor under the writing desk, feeling for the locket. Where was it?
Suddenly the air—already chilly—grew much colder. Molly thought at first it was a gust of wind coming through the open window. But she was facing the window now, and the cold air was coming from behind her.
From the door.
She turned and raised a hand to her mouth. From the crack at the bottom of the door, blackness was seeping into the room. At first it was a dark line along the base of the door, but it quickly spread outward on the floor, and then began to billow upward, like a cloud made of night itself, formless at first, but gradually assuming the shape of the cloaked thing from the stairway.
For the fourth time this terrible night, Molly screamed. She backed away as the cloaked creature glided a few feet toward her. Then, from the featureless blackness that served as its face, it spoke in the hideous groan Molly had heard before, though now she could make out the words:
“Do not be afraid. I mean you no harm.”
Molly struggled to control her voice. “Who are you?” she said. “Why have you taken my mother?”
“I am Lord Ombra,” groaned the dark thing. “Your mother will not be harmed, provided that you do as you are told.”
“What do you want me to do?” said Molly.
Ombra’s shape shifted, and from somewhere—Molly could not tell where—he produced a white envelope, about six inches square. This he extended toward Molly.
“You will give this to your father,” he said.
Molly looked at the envelope, but did not reach for it.
“I don’t know where my father is,” she said.
“If you wish your mother to be unharmed,” said Ombra, “you will find him.”
“But how?” said Molly, her voice breaking. “He didn’t tell me where—”
“You will find him,” hissed Ombra.
The dark robes began gliding forward again, the envelope extended. Molly was about to reach for it, if only to stop this horrible thing from coming any closer. But something nagged at her. There was something odd about the way Ombra was moving. Her mind raced. What was it?
She looked down at the floor and back up. Then it came to her.
She was standing next to her writing desk, upon which sat the oil lamp. The lamp was to her right; her shadow was cast on the floor to her left. Ombra was not moving directly toward her; he was moving diagonally, to his right.
He was moving to her shadow. He was inches away from it.
Beware the shadows.
Molly reached forward, as if to take the envelope. Ombra paused in his advance and extended it to her. At that instant, Molly lunged to her right; the envelope fell to the floor. Ombra, seeing what Molly intended to do, moved swiftly after her shadow, but just before he reached it, Molly reached the lamp and blew out the flame.
The room went dark.
“That was very foolish,” groaned Ombra.
Molly didn’t answer. As quietly as she could, she moved in the pitch blackness toward where she remembered the door to be. She screamed when she felt the deep coldness directly in front of her and heard the hideous mocking voice only inches away.
“Do you think I’m going to let you simply walk out, little girl?” it said. “Do you think I can’t see you? Do you think the darkness hampers me?”
Molly stumbled blindly backward into the room. She heard the door swing open.
“Jenna,” Ombra groaned.<
br />
“Yes, Lord Ombra,” came Jenna’s eager voice.
“Gome in here and relight the young lady’s lamp, so she and I can become…acquainted.”
“Yes, Lord Ombra.”
Molly heard Jenna moving tentatively into the room, feeling her way in the darkness to the fireplace, where the matches were kept. She heard Jenna picking up the wooden matchbox, then shuffling over to the writing desk, then lifting the glass globe. She heard the scrape of the match, saw the flame, saw Jenna’s indigo-stained face, first leaning over to light the wick, then flashing Molly a smile of joyful hatred.
The lamp flared to life. Ombra turned toward Molly. Her shadow was cast behind her now. Ombra began to glide forward. Molly looked desperately around, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere but the open window. She edged toward it, but hopelessness was overwhelming her now. The window was four stories up; to jump from it was to die.
For the rest of her life, Molly would remember what happened next.
First, she caught glimpse of a pulsing glow from just under her bed: her locket. But if it’s glowing…
Next, a sensation of something deeply familiar infusing her being, like a missing part of her soul had returned.
Then, finally, a voice—a voice she’d thought she might never hear again, a voice that, even in this moment of despair, swelled her heart.
“Molly!” the voice cried.
She turned and saw him crouched in the window.
“Peter!”
“Look out!” he said, seeing Ombra moving toward her, a few feet away now. Peter jumped into the room, clapped a hand over Molly’s eyes, closed his own, and shouted, “Now, Tink!”
A blinding light filled the room for an instant, then was gone. Peter opened his eyes and took his hand from Molly’s. Tink lay on Peter’s shoulder, exhausted, nearly unconscious. Tenderly, Peter lifted her and tucked her into his shirt.
By the dim light of the oil lamp they saw Jenna at the writing table, blinking and disoriented. In the far corner of the room, on the floor by the door, was a dark, roiling, indistinct shape. Jenna stumbled toward it.
“Lord Ombra!” she cried.
The dark shape began to billow upward. Jenna, still blinking, looked around the room, her gaze finding Molly and Peter.
“Over there, Lord Ombra!” she said. “By the window.”
The dark cloud, now taking Ombra’s form again, began to ooze toward them.
Peter jumped to the window ledge and held out his hand.
“Come on, Molly!” he said. “Take my hand!”
“But…can you fly us both?” she asked.
“We have to try!” he said. “Hurry!”
Molly looked back at the advancing form of Ombra, then at Peter. She took a step toward the window, then turned. There was no time to retrieve her locket from under the bed. Quickly she bent down and scooped something off the floor: the envelope.
Holding it, she ran to the window and climbed onto the ledge, sitting next to Peter, their legs dangling out. He put his left arm around her tightly, and she put her right arm around him.
“Hold tight,” he whispered, and as he strained upward with all his might, they slid off the ledge, inches before the black shape got to the window and reached, grasping, into the night, clutching only fog.
CHAPTER 67
THE PHANTOM LIGHT
AN INHUMAN ROAR OF RAGE, like wind from a deep, cold cave, filled the night. The sound froze Slank and Nerezza, who stood at the end of the walk, having just seen the cab, and their prisoner, off to the ship. In a moment they were joined by Jarvis, Cadigan, and Hodge, who came running from their posts around the house.
They looked toward the source of the horrible sound and saw Ombra’s dark form leaning out the fourth-story window, an arm extended, pointing at something flying awkwardly, erratically, overhead toward Kensington Gardens.
Slank squinted up at it, then cursed in fury.
The boy. The flying boy. And he had the girl.
“Stop them!” commanded Ombra, but all five men were already pursuing the ghostly figures now passing over the streetlight. The men ran across the street, only to be confronted by the high fence surrounding the mansion opposite the Asters’, its massive iron gate locked shut. Hodge, familiar with the neighborhood, led the others to the right and down an alleyway along the side of the mansion, into the park. By then the flying boy and girl were out of sight, having vanished over the roof. But Slank had not given up.
“He was falling!” he yelled. “Did you see that? He was falling!”
Peter was, in fact, falling.
Molly’s weight was proving too much for him; he couldn’t support her much longer. As they cleared the mansion roof he heard the shouts of the men coming around the side. Clinging tight to Molly, he strained desperately upward, but felt them descending, felt the dark ground below getting closer….
Molly felt it, too.
“Peter…” she whispered helplessly.
“I know….”
Dull bells sounded from beneath his shirt, where the weakened Tink clung to his collar.
We’re falling.
“I know,” he repeated.
Do something. Drop the girl.
“No!”
“What?” Molly said.
“Not you!” Peter said. He heard shouts from the right. He strained upward. Nothing.
More bells. You can’t fly with this cow holding you down.
“Be quiet!”
“What?” said Molly.
“Nothing! I mean, not you!” The shouts were closer now.
Do I have to do everything myself?
And with that, Tink, unseen by Molly, darted out of the back of Peter’s collar and flew into the night.
“This way! This way!”
Slank, now running in front, raced into the dew-soaked grass of Kensington Gardens. He stopped, the others stopping behind him. Their eyes searched the dark sky.
“They can’t have gotten far,” Slank said, frustration and rage choking his voice. “They were sinking. You saw that, didn’t you? He could barely fly.”
“There!” Hodge shouted, pointing.
The others followed his gaze, and saw it: a pale yellow light flitting through the fog about twenty-five yards away.
“That’s them!” yelled Slank, breaking into a run, the others on his heels.
Peter saw dark shapes directly ahead, closer and closer. Trees.
He and Molly were too low; they were going to hit them.
“Hang on tight,” he whispered to Molly. With his last ounce of strength, he made one more desperate effort to swoop upward. For a second or two, nothing happened. Then he felt it—felt them ascending, just the slightest bit.
But not quite enough.
Ombra stood silently in the shadow of a massive elm on the street in front of the Aster home, watching as the men returned. Their shoulders were slumped, their heads bowed; their hands empty. They had chased the mysterious phantom light halfway across Kensington Gardens, only to have it vanish. The boy and girl had escaped.
Now they trudged reluctantly toward Ombra, wondering—fearing—what the dark figure would do to them for having failed.
“My lord—” Nerezza began, only to be silenced by Ombra’s upraised arm.
“Silence,” said the groaning voice. “The girl took the envelope. We have her mother. Those are the important things. The girl will find her father. The message will be delivered. Slank.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Find another cab.”
“As you wish, my lord.” Slank hurried off.
“You men,” Ombra said, addressing the three guards, “will take up your positions here at the house. Jenna will tell the rest of the staff that the lady and the girl were called away in the night to join Lord Aster, and that they will be gone for several days at least. The staff will believe this; they are accustomed to the Asters’ mysterious ways. I doubt the girl would be fool enough to return here, but if she does, se
ize her and bring her to me immediately.”
The guards nodded.
“And the boy?” said Nerezza.
“Yes, the boy,” said Ombra, and now there was anger in his voice. “The boy and his bright little friend.”
The dark hood turned toward Nerezza. Nerezza thought he saw two dim red circles in the deep blackness, like glowing coals; he felt Ombra’s stare, felt his face go cold as ice. Ombra’s entire being seemed to swell, then subside; there was a rustling noise that sounded, to Nerezza, like the wing of a giant bat.
“You told me there was no stowaway on your ship, Captain Nerezza. But it seems you were wrong.”
Nerezza tried to answer, but found he could not talk, could not move.
Ombra looked away, and suddenly Nerezza could move again.
“I very much look forward to meeting the boy again,” Ombra said, his voice once again calm. “I have…plans for the boy.”
From the south, the sound of clopping hooves came up the street. Slank had found a cab. Ombra turned away, leaving Nerezza to rub his still-cold face and to wonder what ugly fate this dark thing had in mind for the boy.
CHAPTER 68
CONVERSATION IN A TREE
PETER AND MOLLY sat next to each other high in an oak tree on the west side of Kensington Palace, shoulders just touching, listening intently for sounds of the men searching for them. They’d made a lucky landing on a wide limb and had managed, by grabbing nearby branches, not to topple off.
At first they’d sat tensely, listening to the searchers shouting nearby. But as the shouts faded into the distance, Peter and Molly began to relax. They were quiet, yet intensely aware of each other’s presence. Finally Peter broke the silence with a whisper.
“Are you all right?”
“Thanks to you, yes,” whispered Molly. “And you? You must be exhausted from flying us both.”
“I’m fine,” said Peter, though he was in fact very tired, and doubted that he could fly at all right then.
Well, I’m not fine, said Tink, alighting on a branch behind Molly.
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