Rose (16 page)

Rose stared at the dirty floor of the cellar, not wanting to meet anyone's eyes. She almost felt ashamed for even thinking such a horrible thing, let alone saying it.

“Why on earth would she
want
Amy to die?” Freddie asked blankly.

Rose looked apologetically at them all. “She said that maybe Amy was the key, as though there was something different about her, something special. But the only different thing is that—well, that she's dying…So perhaps she wants her to. She drinks the blood, doesn't she?” She looked questioningly at the others, and they nodded doubtfully. “And it's for a spell? Maybe she thinks that dying blood is different,
better
. The last drop of Amy's lifeblood…” And here her voice faltered to a whisper, as though it were too awful to speak aloud.

“That's horrible,” Isabella hissed disgustedly.

“I think she's right, though.” Jack nodded, frowning as he tried to remember. “She said something once, when she was taking my blood, about
new
life
. I think she thought I was unconscious—or maybe she just didn't care if I heard, I don't know. She was watching the blood dripping into her silver bowl, and it was like she was counting every drop. That's when she said it.”

“I reckon you're onto something there, Jack.” Maisie nodded, and the others looked as though, unwillingly, they also agreed.

“And if Amy loses her life with the blood, Miss Sparrow thinks the life-spark will come into the blood she's stolen.” Freddie shook his head slowly. “You're right. She
is
a witch.”

“So…is she trying to live forever?” Rose asked, feeling confused.

“And that's why she's catching children!” Jack exclaimed. “It isn't just that they're easier to seize—they've got more life left!”

“Eternal life,” Freddie said wonderingly. “It's the other great mystery. Alchemists have been searching for centuries,” he explained. “How to turn base metals—that's lead and stuff—into gold. They've solved that one—that's what our master does—and the other one is the secret of eternal life. No one's managed that yet. Or at least, they haven't lived to tell the tale.” He sniggered, then remembered where he was and wiped the grin off his face. “Sorry. I mean, it's the big question now. It's only a matter of time before someone solves it. That must have been why she was writing to Mr. Fountain. She thought that because he was one of the alchemists who discovered the gold solution, he might be able to help her with everlasting life too.”

“Your master can make gold?” Maisie asked Rose, her eyes like saucers.

Rose shrugged. “Apparently. I've never seen him do it, mind.”

“Oh, he can,” Freddie assured them. “It's actually not that difficult.” He frowned. “Of course, that's why he was doubtful about her. She must have let slip some of her ideas in her letters to him. Fountain may be an old bear to his apprentices, but he'd never stomach drinking blood.”

“That's my father you're talking about,” Isabella muttered. “But I suppose he is a bit of a bear sometimes. Anyway, whatever she's trying to do, it doesn't really matter now. We have to stop her! We need to make a plan. She's coming back, and she's going to do it to us next!” She held out her pretty little hands, gazing at her wrists in fascinated horror.

Everyone else in the cellar stared at her, and Isabella shuffled closer to Rose. “I don't mean it like that. Really! What I'm saying is, is…that if it's all three of us together, surely we have more chance of fighting back! There!” She looked around in relief. “We should make use of the opportunity, don't you see?”

Jack glared at her distrustfully. “Perhaps. But just remember she's had blood from all the rest of us at least once, little witch-girl. It's your turn next. Why should you escape, eh?” He held his bandaged wrist under her nose threateningly and Isabella recoiled. There was dried blood spotting it, and it smelled bad.

“I know!” she gasped.

Freddie put his arm around her. “Leave her alone,” he told Jack, his voice rather high and nervous. Jack was somewhat bigger than he was. “She's only little. She didn't mean it like that.”

Jack scowled. “She's a spoiled little princess,” he muttered, but he seemed impressed that Freddie had stood up to him.

“Not arguing with you on that one.” Freddie gave a gracious nod. Then he sighed and held up the marble. “If this is what we've got to fight with, I don't think much of our chances.”

“Can't you do anything, well,
better
?” the girl in the nightgown—Alice, the others had called her—asked him in an apologetic tone. “I don't mean to be rude,” she added hastily.

“I do,” Jack put in. “Can't you throw balls of fire or something? You're right, mate, a shiny marble's getting us nowhere.”

“None of us are trained magicians, you see,” Freddie explained wretchedly. “We all three have power, but we can't control it properly yet. We're just no match for her.”

Rose shook her head. “There must be some way to make us stronger,” she said. She'd been searching through the pocket of her cloak, looking for anything that might possibly be used as a weapon, but all she'd found was Maisie's locket. She looped the chain around her fingers, twisting and pulling at it as she thought.

“Oh! Rose, is that my locket?” Maisie jumped up and then kneeled hopefully in front of Rose. “Oh, it is, it is! You brought it back from St. Bridget's for me!”

Rose smiled distractedly at her. “I'm sorry, Maisie, I'd forgotten. Take it, here.” She hadn't really been concentrating on Maisie, but as the tarnished chain slipped into her friend's fingers, Maisie's face caught her attention. Her eyes were bright with tears, but she looked so happy. She seemed stronger, her face losing its sad, waif-like look. Her cheeks almost filled out, though that was surely impossible. Maisie suddenly looked twice as alive as she had the minute before—all because of a tawdry little trinket.

Rose looked at it. It wasn't magical. She knew it wasn't. It was a rubbishy old locket, made of tin.

Maisie held it up. “Ever since that devil said she was my…
mother
…I've been wishing and wishing for this back. This was my real mother's. I know I'll never see her, Rose, don't worry, I'm cured of that. But I still want this to help me think of her, that's all.”

The locket seemed to glow as it dangled from her fingers, but Rose was almost sure that was only the way they were all staring at it. Maisie's love for it made it special, that was all.

But perhaps that was all they needed?

Look at what the locket had done for Maisie. She was ready to take on a hundred witches now. If only they all had something so special. Rose sighed. They didn't, of course. She had no locket, not even a lock of her mother's hair. Nothing to make her feel strong at all.

Rose stared unseeingly at the rough bricks of the wall. Did it actually need to be a
thing
? Couldn't a thought do as well? She'd lasted all these years at the orphanage with just one thought—that one day she would get out, have a job, and earn a wage, and order her life her own way. It had kept her going. Didn't that make it her locket? Her talisman? It was even more special now, that treasured plan, because she'd managed it at last, and now some madwoman was trying to take it away from her.

“What is it?” Freddie asked her quietly.

Rose looked at him, her eyes hopeful. “I think I've had an idea, something that we can do.” She turned back to the others. “Does anyone else have a precious thing, like Maisie's locket? Maybe not here with you, but something special? Something that makes you feel happy and safe?”

Alice nodded sadly. “My pony, Frisky. He'll be missing me dreadfully.”

Jack brought out a pocket knife. “My dad's, it was. He's gone off fighting in the war. He gave it me to look after for him. Too bad I didn't get to use it on that witch upstairs. I tried, but she's stronger than she looks…” He shivered.

Rose blinked, remembering. Bill had told her that Jack always swore his dad was coming back for him. She felt even more determined to make this work. If magic could rescue Bill's friend, perhaps he would trust her again…She didn't have time to think about it now. The others were nodding eagerly, telling each other, showing off special treasures. Annie's was only a button she'd found dropped in the street, but she clearly loved it.

“I knew it!” Rose's heart thudded with sudden excitement. She held Freddie's arm. “Can't we use that somehow? If we all think of the special things, can't we tie that power together? Have you got anything?”

Freddie nodded slowly and held out the marble.

“I know it isn't much, but I thought up how to do it by myself, and at just the right time too. I'm proud of it,” he whispered, a little embarrassed. Then his eyes widened. “Rose! I've already put the light in it, and we've all been using the light, depending on it. So we're bound to the light already. I don't think it would be too difficult to put our strength from the treasures into it too.”

“How?” Maisie asked simply, staring at the little glowing light.

Freddie looked around at them helplessly. “A tying spell? I know one for parcels…”

“Hold hands, for a start,” Isabella spoke up. She'd been remarkably silent until now, cowed by Jack. “And then think of your special things inside the light, I suppose. Freddie had better hold it and say the spell.”

Everyone scrabbled to find their neighbor's hand. Rose found herself holding Maisie's on one side and covering Freddie's hand on the marble with her other hand. The light seemed to pulse in time with their heartbeats. “Now think!” she begged them all.

All at once a great surge of strength and calm flowed through her and over her and around her. Images of a small black horse eating sugar from her hand, dreams of falling asleep with a real mother stroking her hair, pure happiness at finding a sparkling treasure in the mud—they filled her mind. It seemed hours until they faded away, leaving her so calm, so certain. Rose blinked and shivered delightedly, and looked around at the others. They had seen the memories too, she could tell. She had never seen Freddie look so at peace with himself. It made her see how before he had always been frightened or angry or doubting.

“So what are we going to do?” Isabella demanded, wriggling with excitement. “How are we going to rescue Amy?”

“And what are we going to do with that witch when we've done it?” Jack asked in grim voice. “We'll have to kill her, I reckon.”

Some of Rose's precious happiness ebbed away a little. “Can't we just grab Amy and knock Sparrow out, maybe?” she said faintly.

“So she can do this to more kids when she wakes up?” jeered Jack.

It was horribly true. “The police?” Rose suggested.

Freddie shook his head doubtfully. “I don't think they'd take our word for it, not children. Besides, she'd use a glamour, wouldn't she? She'd have them eating out of her hand in no time. Look what she did to Isabella's father—and he understands glamours. The poor policeman would have no chance.” He frowned.

“But if we could get Mr. Fountain to see what she'd done to him, he'd be furious…
He
could tell the police and stop her enchanting them. If we knocked her out and brought him back here to bind her, that would work, I think.”

Jack was still in favor of killing her, but the rest were with Freddie.

“Doesn't make any difference if we can't get out of here and go for her anyway,” Jack said sulkily, and the others were forced to agree. No one had quite thought of the solid, heavy, locked door until now. It didn't even shake when they tried to pound on it with their fists, and Isabella hurt her foot kicking it.

Rose sat down on the stone step in front of the door, her nails sore from scrabbling at the lock. “We'll have to wait until she brings back Amy and rush her then.” It wasn't a good solution. They'd wanted to spare Amy another bloodletting, but she couldn't see what else to do.

“But—what if she doesn't bring Amy back?” Alice said, in a quiet, sad little voice.

Everyone stared at her.

Alice blinked timidly. “Amy said she wouldn't last another time. She was so sure. She said she could feel it. If she's—dead—then why would Miss Sparrow bring her back?”

There was silence. Then Rose stood up and hammered angrily on the silvery wood. “You're right. We have to get this door open, and go and get Amy back before that old demon kills her.”

“Can't you magic it open?” Maisie asked Rose and Freddie hopefully.

“Rose, can you make old wood move? Like you did with that wisteria before?” Freddie suggested.

Rose laid a doubtful hand against the weathered wood of the door. It was smooth and cold and so dead. It didn't speak to her like the creeper had. Here was no life to plead with. “No,” she sighed.

“I don't want to waste this,” Freddie said, looking down at the marble. It was glowing so brightly in his hand now, it seemed to burn with an eagerness to be used. “But I suppose if we can't even get out…”

“Annie could open the door!” It was Lily, piping up from behind all the older children. The two littlest ones had been sitting watching, thumbs in mouths, but now

Lily was on tiptoe, jigging from foot to foot excitedly.

“Don't be silly,” Sarah-Jane said scornfully, and Ellen and Maisie looked as though they agreed with her. But Lily hauled Annie up and dragged the ragged little girl through to the door. “Look!” she said simply, and Annie took her thumb out of her mouth too, and pulled a set of wire lockpicks from the pocket of her filthy little apron.