Quest for the Secret Keeper (8 page)

After a moment’s hesitation, Atroposa reluctantly nodded and turned back to the witch. “We wish to know of the Secret Keeper,” she moaned.

The witch now remembered that the last time these two had visited her was to inquire after the mysterious man called the Secret Keeper, and again the witch wondered what secrets he might be keeping. She peered back into her crystal and saw a tall man powerfully built with broad shoulders and arms corded with muscle. He had dark curly hair and deep brown eyes; everything about him was quite striking, in fact. “He is somewhere in the South of France, mistresses, but soon he will be very close indeed,” said the witch.

Caphiera stepped nearer to the table and the temperature around the witch dipped several more degrees. “Where is he going?”

The witch’s teeth began to chatter. “Paris,” she told them, hoping the pair would soon be satisfied and depart. “He is coming to the capital to hide something.…”

“What?” asked Atroposa.

The witch closed her lids and concentrated on the image forming in her mind’s eye. “A small box,” she said. “Made of silver.”

When the witch opened her eyes, Caphiera was smiling wickedly, exposing those frightening teeth. “When will he arrive?”

“Within a week, I believe.”

“What part of Paris will he venture to?” Atroposa pressed. “The city is very large and we will need to find his location before the Germans arrive and begin meddling in our plans.”

The witch frowned. The images floating in her mind were quickly becoming jumbled. “I cannot see his destination clearly,” she complained. “It seems he is working to conceal himself and his mission.”

The witch knew immediately that her answer did not please the sorceresses. “When will it become clear to you?” Caphiera asked, her tone frigid.

The witch blinked and focused again on her crystal. “He will be near a green door,” she said at last, allowing a small sigh of relief.

But again she could tell that her answer hardly satisfied her guests. “Paris is full of green doors!” bellowed Atroposa. “How can we possibly find which green door the Keeper will visit?”

The witch concentrated as hard as she could on the slippery man in question. But try as she might, she could not decide which section of the city he would be headed toward, and then, as if he was aware that he was being watched by an unseen presence, the Keeper darted straight out of her vision. “I’m sorry, mistresses,” she said wearily. “He is gone from my sight.” But then something else within
the ball caught the witch’s attention. “You are not the only ones searching for this man,” she said. “A group of children search for him too. And a woman. Separate from the children, but with a close connection to this Secret Keeper all the same.”

Caphiera and Atroposa exchanged meaningful looks. “You say the Keeper will appear in Paris within the week?” Caphiera asked.

The witch nodded vigorously. Of that she was certain.

“Then I trust that it will not be too much of an inconvenience for you to postpone your visit to your niece,” the sorceress said easily.

The witch caught herself before a protest could leave her throat. She knew that to refuse either of these women would surely lead to death. Still, she couldn’t help attempting to argue a little. “Kind mistresses,” she began. “Surely I would only be a burden to your quest? An old woman like me would slow you down. And both of you are certainly clever enough to discover the Secret Keeper on your own. My second sight confirms it!”

But Caphiera was far too intelligent to fall for the guise. “You will accompany us, witch, and when you locate the Keeper, be grateful that we will allow you to live.”

The witch thought of something just then, part of a vision she’d already had in fact. She pretended to give a small gasp as she peered into her crystal. “Oh, my!” she said.

“What is it?” Atroposa demanded.

The witch made a bit of a show of looking alarmed. “It’s the Germans, mistresses! They will invade Paris on the day
the Keeper arrives! Oh, I fear for both of you if the Germans should encounter such powerful women! What they would try to do to you! The horror!” And with that the witch fell out of her chair and onto the floor, pretending to faint from the awful image.

“What’s happened to her?” she heard Atroposa moan.

Caphiera’s silver boots clinked loudly on the cement floor as the sorceress approached. In the next instant the witch was kicked soundly in the stomach, and she gave a sharp cry as the air was thrust right out of her. “I thought she might be faking,” Caphiera snapped.

The witch rolled onto her knees and worked to pump the air back into her lungs, all the while silently cursing herself for not getting to the train station ten minutes sooner.

“When she recovers,” said Caphiera to her sister, moving over to lift the witch’s crystal ball from its pedestal, “bring her along.”

A few moments later—well before the witch had recovered her normal breathing pattern—her arm was gripped as if by a vise and she was dragged from the flat, leaving all her other possessions behind.

A
s the party walked across the downs toward Castle Dover—the earl having left his motorcar at the keep because they couldn’t all fit in it and Argos had eyed the thing as if it were a small monster—Ian took in the earl’s posture. He had seen how weary the earl had been of late; he had so much to worry about with the news from the front lines always seeming to be terrible. Their forces were in full retreat at present, and Ian knew the earl was especially worried about an invasion from the sea.

To top all that, the earl’s dear headmistress was clinging to life, and the earl had just learned that another close friend had recently been taken captive by the enemy.

Ian couldn’t fathom what kind of a toll that took on a man, but he suspected it was great. Beside him Theo let out a gasp, spinning round to stare at the keep, which, Ian could see over his shoulder, was aglow with soft lights from the inside.

“Theo?” Ian said, knowing she was having one of her visions.

But Theo seemed not to hear him. Instead, she let out a bloodcurdling scream, cried out,
“Madam!”
and dashed off down the hill, running as fast as her feet could carry her.

Ian was too stunned to understand fully what had just happened, and a moment later he felt Carl’s hand on his arm. “It must be Madam Dimbleby!” Carl said.

Ian closed his eyes and whispered, “No!” as a terrible ache settled firmly into his chest. He opened his eyes, ready to go chasing after Theo to offer her comfort, when a faint buzzing sound came to his ears. The noise was so odd that it caused them all to pause and look about.

“What
is
that?” Carl said, his chin slightly tilted as he searched the dark sky.

Ian realized that the noise was indeed coming from above. It sounded like a very large hornets’ nest getting closer and closer. “Look, there!” Jaaved said, pointing at the horizon just offshore.

“What?” Ian asked, his voice now raised above the din.

“Those dark shadows!” Jaaved said. “I think they’re planes!”

“Good heavens!” the earl exclaimed. “Everyone! Get down!”

No sooner had the earl spoken than a whistle pierced the night sky, and seconds later an earth-shattering explosion sounded down by the harbor.

Ian was pulled roughly to the ground by the earl just
as a second whistling and explosion sounded, and then another and another. Ian could barely think past his own fear and the events taking place around him.

But then his eye happened to catch a glimpse of white moving across the downs and he jumped to his feet and shouted,
“Theo!”
He burst into a run as if his own life depended on it, and it wasn’t long before he was gaining on her.
“Theo, stop!”
he shouted, but either she could not hear him above the noise from the planes or she was ignoring him completely.

A whistling noise pulled his attention skyward again just as an alarm was sounded down at the wharf, echoing across the downs too late to do any good.

Another bomb went off, lighting up the night sky with fire, and Ian twisted his head, knowing it had come from behind him. He gasped when he realized the bomb had hit Castle Dover, and the sight so shocked him that he tripped over his own two feet and went sprawling to the ground. For a moment he lost all orientation, and then the shadows overhead seemed to be right on top of him.

“Oh, nooooooooooo!”
Ian cried just as another explosion blew more of the wharf apart.

Adding to the cacophony were screams and shouts of panic. Ian scrambled to his feet but he was now shaking from head to toe. Another blast to his right lit up the area all around him, and with no small amount of horror, he realized the Nazis were dropping their bombs everywhere from the harbor to Castle Dover. At any second, they would strike the keep!

As if she were immune to the chaos and horror around her, Theo continued her mad dash across the downs, her small figure vulnerable to the murderous horde above her. Ian set off after her again, but this time, he didn’t bother shouting; he knew his voice could never rise above the noise. Instead, he put every ounce of energy into reaching Theo.

And then, as if things weren’t bad enough, small explosions sounded just to his right, and clumps of grass and dirt flew up into his face and against his clothing. He knew that at least one of the pilots had seen him and was loosing his machine gun on him. The shock of being shot at was enough to cause Ian to lose his footing yet again, and he crashed to the ground, covering his head and trying in vain to make himself disappear.

More gunfire erupted, but in the chaos, Ian couldn’t tell where it was aimed, and he shivered all over, waiting to feel the bite of the bullets—but none came.

And then something tumbled to the ground beside him, and he heard Carl’s cries. “Ian!
Ian!
Are you hit?”

Ian lifted his chin and stared at Carl. “I’m all right!” he shouted, staggering to his feet. Desperately he searched the dark terrain for any sign of Theo.

Finally, he spotted her, facedown on the ground, and after crying out her name with such force that he felt a searing pain in the back of his throat, Ian raced to reach her. At last he got to her still form, dropping to his knees a few feet from her, unable to touch her for fear he’d know for certain that she was gone. His chest heaved, and his fists
clenched, and an anger so keen that he thought he’d never feel anything else formed inside him.

The planes were moving off now as sirens continued their mournful wail, but Ian paid the departing planes no attention. “Ian!” he heard Carl gasp as his friend approached and sank down beside him. But Ian couldn’t even acknowledge him. He was focused on Theo, willing her to move.

To his utter amazement, a moment later she did. First her head lifted, and she looked about; then, pushing up onto her knees, she looked behind her. Ian’s shoulders sagged with relief and he reached forward to gather her close. “Thank heavens,” he whispered hoarsely.

In the next instant Theo was sobbing so hard he thought she’d pass out. Ian hugged her fiercely and patted her back. “There, there,” he whispered, unable to get his injured voice to a higher volume. “You’re safe, Theo. Everything’s all right.”

“No!” she wailed, lifting her tearstained and dirty face to his. “Everything’s
not
all right!”

At first Ian misunderstood and pulled her slightly away to look her over carefully. “Are you hurt?”

Theo shook her head vigorously. “No,” she said, pushing her face back into his shirt. “It’s not me. It’s Madam Scargill!”

Ian was thoroughly confused, and he made an attempt to lift her chin with his fingers and wipe at the mud and tears on Theo’s face, as if that could clear up his confusion too. And then something flickered behind his sister, and he knew.

“Gaw,” said Carl, who’d moved up next to him and obviously hadn’t understood what Theo had said. “I hope no one was in there.”

Just a hundred meters away, a small section of Delphi Keep was on fire, and Ian knew it to be the headmistresses’ study. The bombs had miraculously missed the keep overall, save for that one section, which was now completely engulfed in flames.

Men with buckets, shovels, and wet sheets darted about, doing their best to extinguish the flames, but none of it would be in time, and Ian closed his eyes to think about the poor woman who’d helped raise him since he was one day old.

As long as he’d known her, Madam Scargill had been sharp and curt and had avoided showing him much kindness, but overall she’d been a good woman, and she’d always had the children’s best interests at heart.

“Theo,” Ian whispered. “Are you sure?”

Theo closed her eyes and wept and wept, managing a tiny nod. “I … I … had a vision of her in her study just … just as the bombs fell, and … I tried to get there in time!” she wailed. “But … but I couldn’t! Oh, Ian, I couldn’t warn her to get out in time!”

Ian hugged the poor girl to him again and met Carl’s curious gaze. “Madam Scargill,” he mouthed.

Carl gasped and got to his feet immediately, dashing off to help the men fight the flames.

Ian would have joined him, but he didn’t think his legs could support him just yet. Soon after that, footsteps
approached, and Ian turned his head to see Argos, his eyes large and wary, as he made his way over to Ian and Theo.

“Is she well?” he asked, squatting down and placing a gentle hand on the top of Theo’s head.

Ian nodded.

“And you?”

“Fine, thank you, sir.”

Argos sighed and sat down next to them. “Your patriarch has gone to his home,” he said.

Ian looked over his shoulder and saw Castle Dover alight with flames. His stomach contracted at the thought of the many people who could at that moment be trapped within its walls, injured or dead, and he decided he had to help. Looking earnestly at Argos, he asked, “Would you watch over Theo?”

“You are off to lend aid?”

Ian nodded again.

Argos held open his arms. “Give her to me. I will protect her with my life.”

The soldier’s pledge filled Ian with a renewed sense of warmth for the man. He didn’t know much about Argos, but what he knew he liked immensely.