13 Curses

by Michelle Harrison

  Tanya hurried downstairs and through the kitchen. She was just about to go through the back door when she heard Oberon gobbling in his food bowl yet again. Placing the bucket down on the floor for a moment, she went to investigate and saw that, once more, his bowl was full.

  “Who keeps feeding you?” she murmured, exasperated.

  Oberon wagged his tail at her voice and hiccupped.

  “I think you’ve had enough,” she said, lifting the bowl away from him and placing it on the counter. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

  She picked up the bucket and opened the back door. There was a lot of splashing inside it now, along with low, unintelligible muttering. Suddenly, a hole appeared at the center of her cardigan and a slimy, grabbing hand came through. One of the drain-dwellers had bitten a hole in the fabric. Before Tanya could react, its head was through, followed by its body, then it leapt from the bucket in a smooth arc, landing neatly in the drain outside the back door. It was swiftly followed by more.

  Groaning, Tanya spied a saucepan lid on the draining board. Grabbing it, she launched herself off the doorstep and tore through the garden, out of the gate, and toward the sparkling water near the forest. With one hand, she held the bucket in front of her. With the other, she clamped the saucepan lid over the bucket. The splashing in the bucket was frenzied now, and her cardigan was soaked with slimy water. Her arms ached with the weight of it. Oberon ran along beside her, jumping up at the bucket. He could clearly smell that there was something inside.

  She reached the brook, breathless and with legs as jellylike as the contents of the bucket. Quickly, she threw the saucepan lid onto the grass and fumbled with the sleeves of the cardigan, unknotting them and pulling it away. Inside, the bucket was a writhing mass of drain-dwellers, clambering over one another and hopping in their bids for freedom.

  Only as she sank to the ground did she hear the thud of an approach. Red was in her fox form, the charm bracelet clamped in her jaws. Oberon growled as she approached, and she stopped and stiffened warily. Then he caught her scent, calming and wagging his tail.

  Holding the bracelet firmly between her teeth, Red dipped it into the slimy bucket. There was a popping noise as the cell burst open, and when she withdrew the bracelet, the Cauldron was attached. Tanya seized the bracelet, hooking it out of reach of the grabbing drain-dwellers, which were already clamoring for the shining object.

  Oberon thrust his nose inside the bucket with interest, then took a step back and sneezed. Gripping the sides of the bucket, Tanya tipped it toward the flowing water. A tide of full-fledged drain-dwellers spewed into the water with squeaks of pleasure. Then they vanished beneath its surface and, as Tanya and Red watched, were carried away downstream.

  “Some escaped,” Tanya said. “At least two went into the drains.”

  “They’ll end up in the house, no doubt,” said Red. “But a few are manageable. A whole bucketful isn’t.”

  They walked back to the house. Before entering the kitchen, Tanya checked the coast was clear for Red. Oberon immediately ran to his bowl, and Tanya stopped to watch.

  “Who keeps feeding him?” she said in exasperation. “Every time I look at him he’s eating, and I just took his bowl away from him.”

  “Perhaps it’s Nell,” Red said in a low voice. She was sitting under the kitchen table with only her forepaws visible.

  “Well, it’s not me,” Tanya said bad-temperedly. “But the bowl isn’t filling itself now, is it?”

  “Or maybe it is,” Red said, as a horrible thought occurred. “Tip the biscuits out.”

  “What?”

  “Do it—anywhere, just tip them on the floor.”

  Tanya upended the bowl. Brown dog biscuits showered the floor like hailstones. She placed it on the floor, empty—then, before their eyes, it refilled with biscuits once more, stopping at the brim.

  “The Platter,” Red said. “Whoever receives its power will never go hungry. I think we’ve found another charm.”

  “You think Oberon has the charm?” said Tanya.

  “Only one way to find out,” Red answered. “Where is he?”

  Tanya stuck her head out the back door. The dog had slipped off after she had taken his bowl away.

  “Oberon?” she called into the garden. He was nowhere to be seen. “Where is he?” she muttered, stepping back inside. “Oberon!”

  A long brown nose came into view from around the side of the door. A moment later, the rest of Oberon appeared, skulking toward her guiltily. A length of potato peel was caught up around his ear. He scuttled past her with his tail between his legs and ran over to his bowl.

  “Where’s the charm?” said Tanya worriedly. “Do you think he’s eaten it? How will we get it if he has?”

  “He hasn’t swallowed it,” said Red. From within the coat she reached out her arms, still half in her fox form, and stroked Oberon’s large head with one hand, scratching him behind the ears to relax him.

  “That looks bizarre,” said Tanya, eyeing the hands protruding apparently from the fox’s neck.

  With Red’s other hand, she undid the buckle on Oberon’s collar and slid it off, handing it to Tanya. “There’s your charm.”

  A small silver disc was at the center of Oberon’s collar. The Platter.

  “It looks just like his name tag,” said Tanya. “Only it’s not engraved. I’d never have noticed…”

  “None of us would’ve,” said Red. “That’s the idea. If you hadn’t noticed how much Oberon was eating, he just would have carried on and eaten himself… well…”

  “To death,” Tanya whispered furiously. “How did you guess, Red?”

  “The diaries. Elizabeth Elvesden had a kitten, remember? She had one of the charms attached to its collar. It’s like the history of the bracelet is repeating itself in a really warped way.” Red removed the bracelet from her pocket and held it close to Oberon’s collar. The charm attached itself once more.

  “That’s three lucky escapes now,” said Tanya. “Mad Morag nearly driven out of her mind by the Cup of divination, the Cauldron spawning about a hundred drain-dwellers in place of the one that died, and now Oberon nearly gorging himself to death. The Thirteen Treasures have become the Thirteen Curses.”

  Red found it difficult to wake up the next morning. She had slept more deeply than usual, worn out from the searching of the previous day. Fragments of dreams clung to her, in which the silver charms were guarded by changeling children. She lay there awhile, warm in her fox fur. The house was silent, and for a moment she thought it must be too early for anyone else to be awake. Then she heard the sound of the front door closing, and a minute later Florence’s battered old Volvo roared to life. Tanya’s grandmother had gone out. She crawled out from beneath Tanya’s bed and stuck her nose in her hand.

  “Stop it, Oberon,” Tanya murmured.

  “It’s not Oberon, it’s me,” said Red.

  Tanya’s eyes opened.

  “I just can’t get used to a talking fox,” she murmured, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

  “Your grandmother has gone out. Any idea how long she’ll be?”

  Tanya got up and dressed.

  “She’s probably gone to Tickey End for some groceries. Let’s go downstairs and get some breakfast for you while she’s not here. Stay in the coat—if she comes back unexpectedly, that way we’re covered.”

  In the kitchen, in the prime spot in front of a newly lit fire, Spitfire was giving himself a halfhearted wash. He hissed and flattened his ears against his head when he scented Red. Oberon looked on warily, sensibly keeping his distance. The General was also watching Spitfire and was uncharacteristically quiet. Red inched closer and growled softly. Spitfire gave a defeated yowl and fled the kitchen, his matted ginger tail vanishing through the door.

  “Pop!” said the General, suddenly looking much happier. “Pop goes the weasel! Pop!”

  “What’s the plan for today, then?” Red asked.

  “The Elvesdens’ room,” Tanya a
nswered. “We’ll get you in there, Fabian and I, but you might have to search alone if my grandmother comes back.”

  “Sounds like a good idea,” said Fabian as he entered the kitchen. He headed straight for the cupboard where the cereals were kept and, grabbing a box, shook it, then proceeded to pour its contents into his mouth. “The only problem is that we need a skeleton key to access the different parts of the house. Last time I checked, the Elvesdens’ room was locked. Without my father’s key, that only leaves Florence’s, and we don’t know when she’s likely to be back or how easy it’ll be for me to steal her key.”

  “So how do we get in there?” said Tanya.

  Fabian’s and Red’s faces were equally blank. Then someone shuffled out of the pantry and into the kitchen. From Nell’s expression it was clear she had heard everything that had been said.

  Red growled. “You decided to stay, then? Haven’t run away yet?”

  Nell stared past her spindly legs at her flip-flopped feet.

  “No,” she mumbled. “You were right. I caused a mess, so it’s only fair that I try and help put it right.”

  “You’d be more of a hindrance than a help,” Red said rudely.

  Nell bit her lip and collected the dustpan and brush from under the sink.

  “You might find what you need in the pantry,” she said quietly, then went out into the hallway.

  “What does she mean?” Tanya frowned.

  Fabian set down the cereal box and wiped his hands on his pajamas. Tanya and Red followed as he stuck his head around the door of Florence’s pantry. At first they saw nothing other than rows of tins and jars. Then Red saw it, resting on a sack of potatoes: an old key.

  “I don’t believe it,” said Fabian. “Nell’s left us her skeleton key!”

  Red was silent as Tanya picked the key up. Shame washed over her at the memory of her unkind words to Nell. She strode to the hallway to look for the housekeeper—but Nell had gone.

  To reach the Elvesdens’ room, Tanya and Fabian took Red up to the second floor of the house and into the alcove, where a squat chair guarded a dirty tapestry like a bulldog. Behind the tapestry was a door that led to the servants’ staircase, the only entrance that didn’t involve going into another room. As before, it was unlocked, and a stale blanket of air oozed around them as they slid through into the darkness. When the door closed behind them, Fabian lit the way with a pocket flashlight, and then they counted the doors along to the Elvesdens’ room.

  It was by far the grandest in the house. Red took in the ornate wooden furniture as Fabian threw off the dust sheets: the four-poster bed and its elaborate brocade coverings, the fur rug before the fireplace, and the portrait of the Elvesdens that hung above it. She took off the fox-skin coat and stood in front of the painted couple, glad to feel properly human once more.

  “So you’re Elizabeth,” she said to the young woman.

  Elizabeth stared back at her, locked in the painting. Her slender hands were folded in her lap. Gleaming on her wrist was the bracelet, painted faithfully by the artist.

  “Let’s talk about what we’ve found so far,” said Tanya, sitting down on the rug.

  Red and Fabian sat next to her, and Fabian pulled out the notes that he had made from Elizabeth’s diaries.

  “So we’ve found the Heart, the Cup, the Cauldron, and the Platter,” he said. “All of them have been connected to the bracelet’s past, and all of them apart from the Heart have had some kind of horrible power.” He checked the first sheet of paper. “Perhaps if we look at the remaining ones we can figure out the rest of the puzzle. We’ve still to find the mask of Glamour, the Goblet of eternal life, the Book of Knowledge, the Sword of victory, the Dagger that drips healing blood, the Light that never diminishes, the Key that’ll open any door, the Staff for strength, and the Halter—the ring of invisibility.”

  “If the charms are taking powers related to the object, that leaves us with at least one problem,” Tanya said uneasily. “If the Halter’s power is invisibility, what if the object itself is invisible? How would we ever find it?”

  “There has to be a way,” said Fabian, though he looked unconvinced.

  “Fabian’s right,” said Red. “And don’t forget that Gredin said that any task set has to be possible. Invisible could just mean it’s concealed—after all, none of the other charms have been hidden when we’ve looked in the right place.”

  “And you could say the same for Glamour,” Tanya added. “The charm could be disguised to look like something else, and we have no way of knowing what.”

  Fabian let his notebook slide to the floor.

  “It’s hopeless,” he muttered. “We’re not going to do it, are we? We’re never going to get my father back!” He stared at Red resentfully.

  “Don’t you look at me like that,” she said angrily. “I never asked your father to help me, he took it upon himself. And in case you’ve forgotten, he was the one who picked up the bracelet in the first place!”

  “Quiet! Both of you,” Tanya snapped. “Fighting isn’t going to help. We won’t get anywhere by analyzing the charms. We need to focus on the bracelet’s history—that’s what will lead us to the answers. That’s how we found the first one in the shop, remember?”

  Fabian snatched the notebook back up, fuming quietly.

  “All right,” he said. “We know where the bracelet was made—that led us to the first charm. We know the bracelet was given to Elizabeth when she lived with Miss Cromwell, so we’ll need to check whether the address still exists. And we know that the bracelet was displayed in this room after Elizabeth’s death—”

  He broke off at the sound of a car rumbling over the gravel outside.

  “Florence is back,” he said urgently, snapping the notebook shut. “We’ll have to talk about this later.”

  “So where should I start?” Red asked.

  “This room,” said Tanya. “I feel certain the bracelet has a connection to it.”

  “And afterward?”

  “Just wait here until we come back for you,” said Fabian. “It might be a while until we can get away—Florence is really jittery at the moment, she doesn’t seem to want us out of her sight for long.”

  Tanya and Fabian left quietly through the servants’ door, then Red was alone. She felt intrusive, being in this room with its history and secrets. Elizabeth Elvesden stared at her plaintively from her portrait. After unsuccessfully trying to ignore the painting, Red hit upon an idea. If the bracelet was immortalized in the painting with the Elvesdens, then perhaps one of the charms could be concealed behind it.

  She dragged a chair over to the fireplace and stepped up onto it, trying not to think of how much it might be worth. Then, carefully, she lifted the painting off the wall. It was difficult to do alone. The painting and its frame were exceedingly heavy, and only after she had laid it across the bed did she realize that it would be impossible to put it back on the wall by herself—she would need Tanya’s or Fabian’s help. She flipped the painting over to inspect the back. There was nothing, no charm, and the way in which it was framed showed that there was nowhere for anything to be concealed. The canvas was stretched and pinned tightly around a wooden frame.

  She checked the wall to which the painting had been fixed, looking for some kind of secret opening or safe, but there was none. Her hunch had been wrong.

  Another couple of hours passed as she combed the room, searching the carpet, the fireplace, the bedding, and even the fur rug. There was nothing, and no sign of Tanya or Fabian. Fear began to gnaw at her again. What if their previous discoveries had been nothing but good luck, flukes? It would only take for one charm to not be found, and the whole task would never be complete—no matter if they got as far as finding twelve of the charms.

  She threw the fox-skin coat around herself once more before stepping out into the dark servants’ staircase. Until Tanya and Fabian returned for her, there was little point in staying put. Other rooms could hold clues.

  In her
fox form, the moldy scent of the staircase was magnified tenfold, and her acute hearing picked up on tiny scuffles and rustles beneath the wooden stairs. Then, from somewhere above she heard a thump. She padded up the stairs, her claws clicking on wood, until she reached the very top of the house. There was a door, slightly open, which she nosed through.

  Her first thought as she surveyed the vast attic was that it would take weeks to search. There were years’ worth of old belongings: trunks, mirrors, toys, furniture, books—some of them broken, some of them outdated. Everything was swathed in dust, and cobwebs hung thick from the ceiling like broken chandeliers.

  Her second thought was the realization that she was not alone. At the far end of the attic there was a faint flickering that could only be candlelight. Red stepped closer, her fox ears twitching. She could hear a voice now, not quite a whisper but still low. She felt her hackles rise as she recognized the voice to be a child’s.

  She edged closer, trying to make out what the voice was saying. Soon she could make out the tone, though not the words. It was a playful, singsong voice, like that which a child would use to talk to its toys. What was a child doing in the attic?

  She followed the voice, around broken chairs, boxed-up board games, and jigsaw puzzles. Then a ghostly sight sent her skittering backward. A female figure in eighteenth-century dress loomed above her, its arms outstretched from the lacy folds of the dress. For a heartbeat Red was terrified—before seeing that the figure was in fact a dummy, simply employed to keep the dress in shape. Too late, she had knocked over a jar of marbles and sent them rolling noisily across the wooden floor. The voice shut off immediately as Red cowered behind the dummy.

  “Who’s there?” the child asked in a frightened voice.