I get up and go to Annalise and gently lower myself down and kiss her lips. They’re cold. I try again, harder. I feel her cheek: it’s cold. I feel for a pulse in her neck: nothing.
I sit back down and stare at Annalise. “I’m sure this isn’t right.”
Van drags on her cigarette and says, “Do you notice anything about that chest of drawers beside you?”
I turn and look. It’s a tall oak chest of eight drawers. The furniture in the room—the wardrobe, bed, chest, and chairs—is all the same wood.
“I’ve been looking at it for the last hour and now it’s beginning to annoy me. Why does every keyhole in the chest of drawers, indeed in this entire room, have a key in it, except that top drawer?”
I look round. She’s right: all the drawers have locks but each one has a tiny key in it. The door to the room also has a lock and key, as does the wardrobe. I try the top drawer but it won’t budge. All the other drawers open and each one is empty.
Van stubs her cigarette out on the arm of the chair and gets up, saying, “I think you’re right: you do have to do something to wake Annalise but it’s not a kiss that she needs; it’s something else. And that drawer is where I’d put the something else.” Van tries to open the lock with the key from the drawer below. It doesn’t work. “We need the right key.”
“Mercury didn’t use keys,” I say, and I walk quickly out of the room. I know Gabriel has one of Mercury’s hairpins but I’m not sure I can face him at the moment. I’d rather face a corpse.
It’s still smoky in the great hall. I look to where I dropped Mercury’s body. It’s not there but there are two tapestries rolled up, lying next to each other at the side of the room. The bigger one must contain Mercury’s body, the smaller one, Pers.
I drag the longer bundle to a space in the middle of the room and unravel it. Even this is unpleasant. She’s stiff and unrolls with a jerk onto her front and then onto her back, until Mercury is lying there, eyes open, staring at me. Her eyes are still black but with no stars shining or lightning flashing in them. I carefully feel through her hair and pull out all the pins. Seventeen of them! Some with red skull ends, some black, white, green, and some made of glass. I can’t remember which ones are for which tasks, though Rose did tell me that some open doors, some open locks, and some kill.
I put the pins carefully into my pocket. All I have to do now is roll Mercury back up. I flop the end of the tapestry over her and move round to slide my hands underneath her, and, as I do so, I see something slip from Mercury’s bloodstained dress. It’s a silver chain and locket with a complex clasp that slots inside itself. The locket is held within an intricately designed nest of woven silver and gold. It won’t open. I pick one of the hairpins with a red end and push it against the locket.
I’m not sure what to expect—some special potion or valuable jewel—but inside the locket is a tiny painted portrait of a young girl who looks like Mercury. But it isn’t her. Mercury isn’t vain enough to wear her own picture. It must be her twin sister, Mercy, my great-grandmother. Marcus killed her and now I’ve killed the other sister. Black Witches are renowned for killing members of their own family and it seems in that respect I’m turning out Black.
I close the locket and replace it in the folds of Mercury’s dress.
I roll her body back up and drag her to the side of the room.
In the bedroom with Van I show her the hairpins. “The red skull ones open locks.” I put the point of one into the keyhole and there’s a satisfying, quiet click. The drawer slides smoothly open and inside is a tiny purple bottle.
Van takes it and pulls out the worn cork. She sniffs at the bottle and jerks her head back, eyes watering. She says, “This is the potion to wake Annalise. I’d suggest just one drop.”
“On her lips?”
“That’s romantic but not very effective. In her mouth, I’d say.”
I take the bottle and, while Van holds Annalise’s mouth open, I tip the bottle up. A glutinous blue blob of liquid grows at the bottle’s lip and I’m just beginning to think that it’s too much and not right as the drop falls into Annalise’s mouth.
I keep my hand on her neck, feeling for a pulse. A minute passes and there’s nothing. I still keep hold of her and another minute passes, and then I think I feel something—the faintest of pulses.
“She’s waking,” I say.
Van checks Annalise’s neck. “Yes, but her heart’s weak. I’ll see what I can come up with for that.” And she leaves the room.
Annalise Not Breathing
This isn’t good. This isn’t good. Annalise’s heartbeat is far too fast. It’s getting stronger all the time but it’s not normal, not regular. My hand is on her neck, feeling her pulse, which is racing faster and faster—and then I feel no pulse, nothing. It’s stopped. This is the second time it has stopped. Last time it started again on its own after ten seconds. I count the seconds: Five
And six
And seven
And eight
Come on come on
And ten
And eleven