Quest for the Secret Keeper

by Victoria Laurie

  “What’s going on?” Carl asked impatiently.

  Adria turned toward the door and stared out the peephole. “There is evil afoot,” she told them. “The sorceresses are near.”

  Ian felt his blood go cold. “How do you know?”

  Adria moved away from the door. “I know,” she told him. For emphasis she pointed to the back of the flat and crooked her finger as if to suggest they follow her. Ian and Carl did, and she led them through the parlor to the kitchen area. Above the sink was a window overlooking the garden, and out in the yard Ian saw dust and pieces of debris being tossed about—as if a sudden wind had blown in and was causing great chaos. Even the trees were swaying to and fro.

  If that weren’t eerie enough, ice crystals began to form at the edges of the window, and when Ian placed his finger on the pane, he could feel the cold seeping in.

  “Where are they?” he whispered, trying hard not to tremble.

  Adria was watching the yard intently. “Near,” she whispered back. “Very near.”

  She then pointed them back the way they’d come and the three of them huddled in a corner of the flat, waiting with bated breath. At one point Ian distinctly heard the sound of metal heels clicking on the tile floor out in the hallway. He remembered the steel-tipped boots Caphiera had worn when she’d trapped them in the portal tunnel two years previous, and he shivered anew.

  Minutes ticked by and Ian and Carl both watched Adria, waiting for her to let go her tense posture and alert them that the sorceresses had gone, but for a very, very long time, Laodamia’s attendant held perfectly still.

  Ian hoped that if he was correct and Océanne was in the building, she would remain safe inside and not attempt to come out, lest she encounter one of the dreaded sorceresses. He tried not to think about what Caphiera had done to another boy from their orphanage two years previous when he’d had the great misfortune to stare directly into her eyes and been turned to solid ice.

  Finally, as the light in the room began to dim, Adria got to her feet and motioned for the two of them to follow.

  As they stepped out into the hallway, they saw some wary figures coming up the main stairs. It seemed the building’s occupants had been hiding in the basement until it was clear the air raid had passed.

  Ian moved ahead of Carl and Adria, anxious to watch the grim-faced Parisians hurry up to their flats. He couldn’t say with certainty that he believed they were in the right building for the Lafittes, but his heart pounded with anticipation all the same as one by one the residents shuffled up the steps. And then, as one older gentleman stepped aside, Ian saw her. Océanne. She looked weary and pale and frightened, but still as lovely as Ian had remembered her. Her chin lifted in his direction and her expression changed to one of amazement.

  Ian closed the distance to her. “Hello, Océanne,” he said shyly, thinking that she had grown even more beautiful in the year since he’d last seen her.

  “Ian Wigby?” she gasped.

  “We’ve come to rescue you,” he said before he realized how silly that must sound. In the next moment he had the most horrific thought about how terrible he must look, covered in soot and grime and dirt from head to toe.

  Océanne, however, was still staring at him in disbelief. “Is Carl with you?” she finally asked, and Ian felt his heart sag a bit.

  “Hello,” Carl said, walking down the hall to join Ian.

  Océanne took one look at Carl before flinging herself into his arms, hugging him fiercely. “Carl!” she cried. “Oh, Carl!”

  Ian stepped back, his shoulders slumping and the joy of seeing her evaporating. He happened to catch Adria’s eye then, and there was such sympathy in the way she looked at him that Ian felt embarrassed and ashamed.

  “Océanne?” they all heard from just down the stairs. And then Madame Lafitte crested the landing and gasped. “Good heavens! Whatever are you two doing here?”

  Carl was patting Océanne on the back awkwardly. The girl was still clinging to him as if he were a life vest and she were out to sea. “We’ve come from England, ma’am,” he said. “The earl brought us here to search for you. Your husband sent a note begging for our assistance.”

  Océanne let go of Carl abruptly. “Papa?” she asked. “But where is he?”

  Carl and Ian exchanged looks. Clearly Océanne did not know that her father had likely been murdered. “Detained,” Ian said after a moment.

  Madame Lafitte studied him carefully. “By whom?” she asked pointedly.

  “Madame,” said Adria, coming to their rescue. “I fear that we have much to explain, but first I must alert you that we are in terrible danger at present and must make haste to leave this building at once.”

  Both Madame Lafitte’s and Océanne’s expressions turned fearful. “Will there be another air raid?” Océanne asked timidly.

  “Perhaps,” said Adria. “But there is even more danger afoot. How quickly can you pack a few belongings and be ready to travel?”

  Madame Lafitte looked quite taken aback. “I shall go nowhere without my husband,” she said. “Leo insisted we wait here for his return, and with Paris now in ruins, I’ll not have him come here to find us gone and assume the very worst!”

  “We’ll send word,” Ian said quickly. “Madame, we’ve come here with the earl himself. Your husband, Monsieur Lafitte, begged the earl to find you and take you back to England where he knew you’d be safe. He can’t get back to Paris at present, you see, and he’s terribly worried about your well-being.”

  Madame Lafitte eyed Ian for several long moments, her hands wringing together nervously. Finally, she seemed to relent. “Very well, Ian. Let us get our things together. We haven’t been upstairs since the bombs began. Is it dreadful outside?”

  “Yes,” Adria told her honestly. “You should bring some sensible clothing and good shoes, Madame. The way back is littered and treacherous.”

  Océanne’s mother took her by the hand and they moved to the staircase. Ian and Carl waited patiently by the front door, but Adria seemed ready to be off. She often anxiously focused her attention on the stairs, as if willing Océanne and her mother to hurry, and Ian wondered how she knew the sorceresses were close.

  As if reading his mind, she told him, “If you focus, Ian, you can sense the sisters too.”

  Ian frowned. How? he wondered. His eyes met Carl’s and his friend shrugged. Ian stared at the door, then closed his eyes, waiting for something to tell him that the sorceresses were near.

  “Feel with your mind,” Adria said encouragingly. “Extend your thoughts outward, away from yourself.”

  Ian’s brow furrowed. He had no idea what Adria was going on about. This is rubbish! he thought. Absolute rubbish! As he was about to give up, however, the strangest feeling came to him. It was as if a part of him extended itself to encounter something thick and heavy in the atmosphere, which also left a bitter taste in his mouth.

  He was astonished by the sensation. And as he focused on the disquieting feeling, an image appeared in his mind’s eye. Well, not quite an image. Just the impression of a cold and dangerous presence alongside an equally dangerous but slightly more tempestuous one. Without knowing how he knew, Ian could tell that Caphiera and Atroposa were somewhere across the street, hidden and watching the front of the building carefully. Ian was both fascinated and repulsed at the same time.

  “What’s he doing?”

  Ian’s eyes snapped open to stare directly into Océanne’s, which were bright blue and quite beautiful and were looking at him curiously. “Nothing!” he said quickly. “Shall we be off, then?”

  Both Océanne and her mother carried small bundles held tightly to their chests and each wore traveling clothes, with a sweater draped across her shoulders.

  “This way,” Adria coaxed, and the party moved down the hallway to the rear exit out the door and on their way to find Theo.

  A SEARCH FOR THE EARL

  The closer Ian and his companions drew to their flat, the more littered and rava
ged the streets appeared, and the more crowded. From all corners of the city, sirens could be heard as ambulances carried away the injured, blankets were laid over the dead, and every available Parisian citizen worked to pull the trapped from the rubble or helped firefighters contain the dozens, if not hundreds, of fires.

  The air grew thicker with smoke as well, and it was soon difficult to breathe. Madame Lafitte had graciously handed Ian and Carl two of her spare kerchiefs to cover their noses and mouths, and Océanne used her own. Even with the layer of cloth over his nose and mouth, Ian still found it quite hard to breathe.

  Only Adria seemed immune to the effects of the smoke. She needed no kerchief or cloth, but covered her mouth simply with her hand.

  Finally, Adria turned a corner and Ian saw that the street was the one that held the building of their flat, although the street was hardly recognizable now. Many of the buildings along the road had been hit directly by bombs, and Ian’s stomach squeezed as he searched ahead for any glimpse of Theo or the flat.

  “Blimey!” Carl whispered, moving up to walk next to Ian. The destruction in this section of the city was particularly bad.

  Behind them they heard Océanne gasp and give a small whimper. Ian looked over his shoulder and found her turning away from a body with a sheet thrown over it lying in the middle of the street. Ahead, there were several more.

  Ian’s heart began to pound hard. He felt as if he were walking through his own personal nightmare, and the more they walked, the more he found himself on the verge of panic.

  Carl saw it first. Ian had been staring at the half-standing buildings, most with large gaping holes in them, others with whole corners demolished, their rubble spilling into the street. He didn’t realize until Carl grabbed his arm and halted that the building with the most destruction was theirs.

  “Oh, no!” Carl whispered.

  Ian stared at the pile of rubble, comprehension dawning slowly as he took in the head of the lion that had once stood proudly outside their set of flats. The statue had been blown to bits, save for the head, which had been tossed into the street where Ian’s party had all come to stand.

  Ian moved the kerchief away from his mouth and stared with horror at the four-story building, which had been reduced to one and a half stories. A hand, lifeless and blue, was sticking out of the rubble.

  Ian turned away and his stomach heaved. He’d had nothing to eat since breakfast, so there was nothing much for him to give up, but still his stomach convulsed.

  He sank to his knees then, feeling so stunned and lost and dreadful all at the same time that his mind felt ill equipped to process the whole of it.

  Distantly, he became aware of Océanne crouching down next to him, speaking words he could barely hear. He felt paralyzed. Perhaps if he held perfectly still, Theo would be all right, and she would come to him and tell him that she hadn’t been in the building when it collapsed. That her crystal had warned her in time and she’d fled to safety.

  And then Ian raised his eyes to look about him. Everywhere he looked, there was destruction. It seemed no building had been spared … save one.

  Across the street, the bakery where they’d purchased their breakfast rolls that very morning was nothing but rubble, and the market where they’d purchased their staples had also been blown to smithereens, but the abandoned shop with the green door stood completely unharmed.

  As if in a dream, Ian got to his feet, his eyes pinned to that door. He staggered forward, hearing Carl and Océanne call his name, but he ignored them. Intent on his target, never taking his eyes off it, he weaved his way through the crowd.

  As he drew closer, his heart hammered so hard he felt it would burst through his chest. And then his hand rested on the door handle and he turned it and was not at all surprised when it opened.

  The interior was dark; only a bit of light from the street made its way inside. But someone was huddled there; of that he was certain, because as he’d opened the door, he’d heard a small gasp. “Ian!” shouted a shaky voice from inside. “Oh, Ian!”

  A slight weight crashed into him and Theo was hugging him fiercely. “Thank heavens,” he whispered, holding on to her for dear life.

  The others gathered around but it was a moment before Ian felt able to release her. He fought back his emotion, not wanting to cry in front of Océanne, of all people!

  But Theo had no such reservations. She openly wept and hugged first Ian, then Carl, then Océanne and her mother, and even though they had not yet been introduced, she hugged Adria as well. “I’ve been so terribly worried about you!” she finally said to them all.

  “We felt the same way about you,” Carl told her. “When we saw the flat, we thought the worst.”

  Theo’s eyes pinched as she looked across the way. “It happened so quickly I barely had a chance to escape. One moment I was reading in the parlor, and the next I had the most urgent feeling that I should leave the flat and move downstairs. To be perfectly honest, I had no idea why, but I obeyed my instincts.”

  “But how did you know to come here?” Ian asked her, marveling that she’d chosen the one building on the street that had sustained no damage.

  “I don’t really know, Ian,” she admitted. “I simply got to the foyer and felt that I must quickly move outside. I wanted to resist the impulse, you know, because of the earl’s instructions, but when I looked out the window at the green door, it seemed to call out to me. I felt I couldn’t ignore it, so I came here to have a look and just as I arrived, I heard the planes! I don’t even think I thought through what to do next. My hand automatically reached for the door handle and it opened.”

  “It was locked just the other day,” Carl remarked.

  Theo nodded. “I assumed it would be too, but when I tried the handle, it was unlocked, as if it were inviting me to find shelter here. So I came in and hurried to the back. Just as I got down and covered my head, the first bombs exploded!”

  Ian’s heart gave a pang when he thought about Theo trapped in this small shop alone, listening to a rain of destruction. She must have been terrified.

  He was about to tell her how sorry he was for insisting that she stay behind when he noticed Adria staring at the green door intently. She then ran her hand along some letters carved into the wood, with an expression that Ian could only describe as wonder. Curiously, Ian squinted at the letters and found that they were written in some foreign tongue. “Can you read them?” he asked her.

  “Yes,” she said.

  Carl and Ian exchanged surprised looks. “What do they say?” Ian asked.

  “They invoke a powerful magic,” she told him. “They mark the entrance to a portal.”

  Ian gasped. “A portal? You mean a way back to England?”

  Adria shrugged. “Possibly,” she said. “Or to other lands.”

  Theo had all but recovered from her terrible fright. “The sorceresses said they were looking for the Keeper by the green door. They must have been talking about this door, Ian!” she said.

  Adria appeared quite surprised by that. “Where did you learn this?” she asked.

  Ian explained that he’d learned it when they’d had the near miss with the sorceresses at the hotel.

  Adria stepped back from the door and moved inside the small shop, lined with empty shelves now covered in dust.

  While she inspected the shop, Theo turned to Ian and asked, “Who is she?”

  “Her name is Adria, Theo. She was Laodamia’s attendant and the craftsman of our treasure boxes.”

  Theo’s eyes grew large with wonder, and Ian smiled. He then added, “And she’s now married to General Adrastus.”

  “Pardon me,” said Madame Lafitte, and they all turned to her. “But might I ask where the earl is?”

  Ian blinked. He’d nearly forgotten about the earl. Turning to Theo, he asked, “Have you seen him?”

  Theo shook her head and bit her lip. “I haven’t.”

  Madame turned to the rubble that had been their flat, and her hand
flew to her mouth. “Oh, my!” she whispered.

  Theo quickly said, “I don’t believe the earl went back into the flat before the bombs struck, Madame. I didn’t pass him on my way here and had only just arrived when I heard the first planes.”

  “And he has not come back here to look for you?” Carl asked.

  “No. I’ve been watching, though,” she said, pointing to the shop’s lone window, which, remarkably, still held its glass intact. “When it grew dark, of course, I could no longer see the individual faces passing by. However, it has only been fully dark for a short while.”

  Ian stepped out of the shop and onto the street. He stared up and down the way, searching for the earl’s face among the few pedestrians, but there was no sign of him. “He’d try to come back here,” Carl said. “If he weren’t hurt himself, he’d attempt to make his way back to the flat.”

  A knot of anxiety formed in Ian’s stomach. Where could the earl be? “We should look for him,” he said to Carl.

  Madame Lafitte was now quite concerned. “But where was he at the time of the air raid?” she asked pointedly.

  “Looking for you, ma’am,” Ian told her. “For the past several days, the earl has been looking for you and Océanne.”

  “But I’ve not seen Hastings since last year,” she insisted. “He’s not come round to our flat even once.”

  “He didn’t know where to look,” Ian assured her.

  “Didn’t my husband tell him where we’d be?” she pressed.

  Ian thought carefully about what to say to Madame Lafitte. He knew that it was not his place to tell her that her husband had likely been murdered; that was a job for the earl. “I believe,” he said, “that the telegram your husband sent to the earl was incomplete, Madame. It left off the number and street where you were staying, and only listed Paris for your location. The earl has been making inquiries through friends and acquaintances here in Paris since we arrived.”

  Océanne was staring hard at Ian, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably. “Where did you say my father was when he sent the telegram?”