The Blackthorn Key

Tom’s eyes went wide. He started babbling again, even faster than before. Slowly, Lord Ashcombe reached out with his free hand and grabbed Tom’s hair. He twisted, forcing Tom to his knees.

Tom’s mother ran from inside her home. She knelt in the mud next to her son, begging Lord Ashcombe, babbling as fast as Tom was. Tom’s father started in, too, face red and sweaty, gesturing angrily down the street, the way I’d left his house when he’d thrown me out. The King’s Warden barely acknowledged them, his eyes never leaving my friend’s.

Lord Ashcombe had to know I’d taken my puzzle cube, not Tom. According to the law, that didn’t matter. Finding it in Tom’s house marked him as a thief. The penalty for that was death.

I bowed my head. I couldn’t just leave Tom to Lord Ashcombe. If the King’s Warden was going to make someone take the blame for the theft, it had to be me.

I stepped into the street.

“Hello, Christopher,” a small voice said.

It came from behind me, back in the alley. I turned.

It was Molly. She smiled at me from the shadows, her mop of soft curls tumbling into her eyes. At four years old, she was young enough that she had trouble pronouncing some of her letters. Hewwo, Chwistophuh.

I blinked. “Molly?”

Her smile widened. “Come with me,” she said. Come wiff mee.

“I . . . I can’t,” I said, though I wished so much that I could. “Your brother’s in trouble. I have to help him—”

“No.” Molly reached out her small, delicate fingers and wrapped them around my hand. She tugged. “Come with me. You have to. Tom says.”

“I can’t.”

“Tom says.” She pulled as hard as she could, which didn’t budge me an inch. “Tom says. No. Noooo!” Molly started to cry as I took a step toward Lord Ashcombe. “I promised! Tom says!”

In the distance, Lord Ashcombe let go of Tom’s hair. It looked like Tom might faint. His mother seemed to be thanking the King’s Warden over and over again. Lord Ashcombe ignored her. He said something to Tom, and Tom nodded like mad. The King’s Men had already begun to talk to the neighbors, some of whom pointed in the same direction Tom’s father had, the way I’d left his house. It appeared Tom had convinced Lord Ashcombe that he really didn’t know where to find me.

The little girl yanking at my fingers seemed to tell a different story. “Come on,” Molly said. “Tom says.”

I waited a moment more, to see that Lord Ashcombe wouldn’t change his mind and haul Tom away after all. When he finally stalked off down the road, I sighed. “All right.”

? ? ?

As soon as I agreed to go, Molly’s mood changed instantly, as is the way with young children. Hot tears flipped to a gentle smile, which she kept as she wandered in front of me through London’s back alleys. She hummed to herself, occasionally skipping for a few paces, playing some unknown game.

“What were you doing in the alley?” I asked her.

“Finding you.” She looked up at me proudly. “Tom sent us to find you, when he seen the scary man come. But I did it.”

I put my arm around her shoulders and gave her a little hug. “You’re the best.” She beamed at me for a moment, head resting against my hip. Then she spotted a butterfly and chased it, jumping to try to catch it as it fluttered up into the air.

When I’d started following Molly, I’d assumed she was leading me around the long way to the back of Tom’s house—though God help me if either of his parents saw me now. But we just seemed to move aimlessly from alley to alley. Our trip was taking forever, we weren’t getting any closer to Tom’s place, and my back had had more than enough.

“Do you know where we’re going?” I said.

“Uh-huh.” Molly scanned the sky, hoping the butterfly would return. “Tom says take you to the Black House.”

“The Black House?” I didn’t recognize the name. “Who are the Blacks?”

Molly giggled. “Not Black, silly. Black.”