The Blackthorn Key

“I’ve seen that look in your eyes before.”


I don’t suppose I could have kept this one inside. Cecily was right: King Arthur was just a story. No one was coming to save me. But that didn’t mean I had to let everything I cared about get taken away. I might not know how to solve Master Benedict’s riddle, but I did know what I could do tonight.

The Cult of the Archangel took my master. The Apothecaries’ Guild Council took my home. I had only one thing left of my life: my puzzle cube. And I’d burn in the pits of hell before I’d let anyone take that, too.





CHAPTER


14


“THIS IS MADNESS,” TOM HISSED.

“You said that already,” I whispered.

“And yet, here we are, still doing it. So, if you don’t mind: This is madness.”

He had a point. Sneaking through the alleys of London at midnight wasn’t the smartest idea in the world. At best, you’d meet a parade of drunks. At worst, you wouldn’t see the sunrise. And if you ran into a parish constable on patrol, he’d be as likely to crack your skull as question you, since he’d just assume you were up to no good.

No lanterns hung in the streets. City regulations forbade them after nine p.m. There were torch boys you could hire to light your way, but that obviously wasn’t an option for us. We traveled instead by the half-moon, which cast the city in a foggy silver glow. Fortunately, my home wasn’t far, just three streets away from Tom’s. We dodged behind the clattering cart of the night-soil men, bolted through one more alleyway, then hopped a stone fence, and we were outside Blackthorn’s workshop at the back.

“How are we going to get in?” Tom said. “I thought the Guild Council took your key.”

They had. Except they didn’t know about the key Master Benedict kept hidden, and I hadn’t told them where to find it. At the back corner of the house, a column of cracked brick led up the side of the chimney. I dragged my fingers along it, feeling for the symbol. I found it, etched near eye height on the left side, camouflaged by the brick’s natural pattern.



Tom cocked his head. “Isn’t that a planet?”

He was right. This was the symbol for Mars. I wondered why Master Benedict had used it to mark his key. I was still thinking about it when a frenzied fluttering burst in front of my face. I jumped. Tom gave a little squeak I didn’t know a boy his size could make.

My heart started up again when I saw it was just a pigeon. It flapped its wings and landed next to me. In the moonlight, it took me a moment to recognize her. “Bridget!”

She cooed.

I knelt and scooped her into my hands. She nuzzled against my fingers. “What are you doing out here?” I said.

Tom pointed upward. “Look.”

Right above us, at the edge of the roof, the door to our pigeon coop swung open in the breeze. I cursed. Whatever idiot the Guild Council had sent to feed the pigeons hadn’t latched it behind him. All our birds would be gone. And out in the wild, Bridget could have been hurt.

She wriggled in my fingers, alarmed by my voice. I stopped swearing and stroked her feathers to calm her. She still managed to look offended.

Tom looked around nervously. “We can’t stay out here all night.”

Right again. I cradled Bridget in one arm and pulled on the brick with the symbol of Mars. It slid outward, scraping on the masonry. Behind it was a small nook. Inside was the key to our house.

When I went to the back door, however, it was already unlocked. The same idiot who’d lost our birds hadn’t even secured the house when he left. I was about to start swearing again, but when we went inside, I couldn’t find my voice.

Our workshop had been ransacked.