Fiona stepped out onto the gravel path, instinctively glancing behind for Mariana. Of course, her friend wasn’t visible. They’d intoned Lady Cleo’s Cloak before leaving their room and Mariana was as transparent as the air. Fiona clicked the door shut behind her, and the behemoth glanced over at the noise. He tilted his head, and then prowled toward them. Fiona’s breath quickened as the man’s feet crunched on the gravel.
Mariana grabbed her arm, pulling her onto the grass where their footsteps fell without noise. Fiona glanced behind at the guard, who now peered into the dark doorway. Finding nothing amiss, he returned to his spot. Fiona’s breathing returned to normal, and they continued creeping through the center of the gardens. Byron flew above their heads.
They approached the statue of the chained woman—their meeting point with Alan. The air smelled of gardenias and stagnant water. Moonlight flickered through gliding clouds, lending the statue the appearance of being almost alive, as though she might begin dragging herself through the garden on stony arms. Fiona shuddered, pulling her sweater tighter around her.
Byron swerved close to them. He was supposed to alert them if the guards noticed their absence.
“Alan’s wolverine showed up today when we were working on our masks,” said Mariana. “I’m the only one without a familiar yet.”
“Well, your familiar is a turtle. He’s bound to be slow.”
“I’m calling my wolverine Jimmy Howls,” Alan’s voice cut in.
Mariana exhaled. “I’m glad you made it. Those guards creep me out.”
Fiona peeked back at dark house. “Let’s get going.”
They crept onward, their invisible feet crunching along the gravel path. The full moon hung above them, its surface the color of aged bones. Every so often, Byron’s fluttering form came into view against it.
“Do you really think this is necessary?” Mariana whispered. “Spying on Tobias?”
“I don’t know how you convinced me to do this.” There was a hint of irritation in Alan’s tone. “Even if the Purgators are evil, which we don’t know for sure, why do you want to poke the beast? I have enough blood on my hands without instigating anything else.”
Fiona frowned as they entered the hedge maze. “First of all, we do know they’re evil. They’re a witch-killing cult.”
“Mariana and I have been doing a bit of witch-killing ourselves,” Alan said coolly.
“That’s different,” Fiona shot back. “You killed people in self defense. The Purgators killed innocent people.”
Apparently Alan thought there was a stain on his soul. But Alan wasn’t the one born with a murderer’s blood running through his veins.
A distant rattling noise rang through the air as they entered the hedge maze.
“Why don’t you just ask Tobias what he was up to?” asked Alan. “Maybe he had a good reason for whatever he was doing.”
“Jack thought he had a good reason for murdering hundreds of people.” Fiona led the way, dragging her hand along the hedges. “Anyway, I tried asking Tobias what he was doing by the river, and he lied to me. I’m done with people keeping those kinds of secrets. ‘Oh, did I forgot to mention? I’m actually four hundred years old and I eat people to stay alive. No big deal.’”
“Oh, come on. You really think Tobias is like Jack?” Fiona could almost hear Mariana’s eye-roll.
They turned right, but stopped when they found the way blocked by a curve of boxwood trees. “Wrong way.” She pivoted, turning right again.
Alan followed closely. “Well, you’ve convinced me to join you on your spy mission. I’m starting to think you might be the Machiavellian cult leader, Fiona.”
“I’ll be in Fiona’s cult,” mused Mariana. “As long as you have a masquerade ball. Seems like a perk of the blood cult.”
“I’m not sure about that,” said Alan. “My wolverine mask looks like a bad toupee with eye holes. I wish I’d found a way to scrape the glue and fur off my hands. I literally have hairy palms. ”
“I’m waiting till the last minute for mine,” said Fiona. “Then I’ll just glue a bunch of wildflowers to it. Plus a basement trunk dress. If anyone asks, I’ll just say I’m dressed as one of Great-Grandfather Edgar’s crazy hookers.” Ahead of her, another hedge that blocked their path. “Dead end.”
She turned, now following her friends, but Mariana crunched into a hedge. “Dammit! Another dead end.”
Fiona spun around. “I have no idea where we’re going. I should not be leading this mission.”
“I’ll take the lead.” Alan pushed ahead. “Wolverines have an innate sense of direction.”
Fiona rested her hand on Alan’s shoulder as they followed him through the labyrinth. And she had to admit—he did have a good sense of direction.
At last, the cemetery wall came into view, and its vines glistened in the moonlight, curling over the stones. It felt like they were out in the wilderness, hundreds of miles from civilization.
They paused before the green door. Fiona could hear only the incessant chirping of crickets as they contemplated the seven-foot-high barrier.