Liesl & Po

She was well and truly trapped, and could only hope Will was on his way to the Red House with the ashes.

She slid the window closed again, momentarily startled by her own image in the glass: Her face and the room behind her were reflected clearly against the backdrop of the darkness outside. She had so often seen herself this way, reflected in the attic window, as she stared out onto the world beyond the glass and fantasized about being a part of it. Now she was a part of it, and that girl—the caged girl in the window, stuck onto a pane of glass—seemed almost unrecognizable.

Things had changed. She had changed.

Liesl resolved that no matter what, she would escape. Even if she were all alone, even if it was hopeless, she would escape or die trying. Anything was preferable to being a prisoner again.

“Hello.”

Liesl jumped as Po materialized suddenly beside her, followed closely by a very excited Bundle.

“Where did you go?” Though only moments earlier Liesl had determined she would be okay on her own, the sight of her ghostly friends made her want to shout with joy.

“I went to tell Will what happened,” Po said, “and to warn him that he is not safe.”

“Is he okay? Did he escape? Is the box safe?” Liesl demanded eagerly.

“He is fine,” Po said, sounding (to Liesl’s mind) almost regretful. “He has made it to a stretch of woods, where he is quite concealed. The box is still in his possession.”

“That’s a relief,” Liesl said. “Though how I’m going to get out of here is beyond—”

Just then, Bundle began mwarking sharply.

“Shhh,” Po hissed. “Someone is coming. Quick, in the bed.”

Liesl leaped into the bed and pulled the covers to her chin, just as a key clicked neatly in the lock and her door swung inward.

“I see our little sleeping beauty has awoken,” Augusta Hortense Varice-Morbower sang cheerfully, as she swept into the room, carrying a tray.

Liesl gasped. “What—what are you doing here?”

“Well, hello to you too, pumpkin.” Augusta tried to smile but only managed to grimace.

“Who is that?” Po whispered.

“My stepmother,” Liesl whispered back.

Augusta, who did not see Po, because she was used to seeing nothing but what could be bought, or weighed, or measured, thought that Liesl was only greeting her. “You know I’ve always despised that word,” she said, setting the tray on the little table. On it was a bowl, covered with a dented metal lid.

“I won’t call you mother,” Liesl said, lifting her chin.

“Of course not, sugar pie. It’s the mother part I object to most strongly.” Augusta showed her teeth again.

It had been months since she had seen her stepmother, except from a distance. Augusta never came to the attic. Now Liesl was struck by how very ugly she was—even in her fine socks and expensive shoes and her silk dresses, she looked just like a toad, like a creature that should be wallowing in muck.

“How did you find me?” Liesl asked.

Augusta sat on the bed, which groaned under her substantial heft. “Well, you couldn’t expect to get far, could you? Not pulling a stunt like that.” She waggled a finger at Liesl. “The Lady Premiere is quite put out about the loss of her magic. Quite. The alchemist, too. It’s all he could talk about on the carriage ride over—how he would torture the boy, when it was all over. Turn him into a worm and put him in a birdcage—things like that.” Augusta said this with relish. She had decided she very much liked the alchemist. That was a man with a head on his shoulders!

Liesl felt hopelessly confused. “Magic . . . ?” she repeated. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Augusta stared at her narrowly. The girl appeared to be perfectly sincere. “Why did you run away?”

Liesl was quiet for a minute. Then she lifted her head. “I wanted to bring my father’s ashes to the Red House, so he could rest. He told me to do it,” she added, somewhat defensively. He hadn’t exactly told her, of course, but he had told Po, and that was almost the same thing.

“Told you to, did he? You’ve talked to him, then?” Augusta asked, and there was a dangerous softness to her voice.

“Y-yes,” Liesl said, after only a second’s hesitation. “He wanted to be laid by the willow tree, near my mother.” She did not feel like explaining about Po; it was obvious to her that her stepmother could not see either of the two ghosts.

Augusta’s face hardened. She did not know what to believe. Either Liesl knew she had the magic and had raised the ghost of her father, or she did not know she had the magic and had not raised the ghost of her father. Either way, she was lying about something, and Augusta didn’t like it. Not one small bit.

“You’ve seen him, then?” she asked, even more softly, and if Liesl had known her stepmother better, she would have known to be afraid.