The Blackthorn Key

“What? No. I told you before I wasn’t going to leave you to—”

“Not this time. I mean it, Tom. You hear me? You’ve already done so much more than I could ever have asked. I’m so grateful. But now you have to stay away, all right?” He made as if to protest. I cut him off. “Please, Tom. Stay away. Promise me.”

He scuffed his shoes on the stone, head bowed. “I promise.”

I handed him the letters and pointed at the pendulum clock. The Archangel’s Fire had cracked its face. “Remember, tomorrow morning—”

“Deliver the first letter at nine, the second at eleven. I remember.”

He turned to go. Then he turned back. He hugged me, holding me too tight to breathe.

? ? ?

The ingredients I needed were in the storerooms. Master Benedict had already made a large batch of the sweet syrup, which rested in a five-gallon jug on the opposite workbench, so all that was left for me to do was follow the recipe. It was the hardest thing I’d ever done. I had to concentrate to stop my hands from shaking, scared beyond measure the whole time.

The clock seemed to spin. By the time I’d finished with the formula, it was past midnight. By the time I’d prepared the room, it was almost seven. Now everything was ready.

A few more hours. That was all. Just a few more hours and it would be over, one way or another.

I left the lab and went up to the surface, to the sunlight dawning in the Mortimer family garden. There I sat on the grass, like a spring lamb, and waited for the wolves to come.





TUESDAY, JUNE 2, 1665


The Feast of St. Erasmus, Protector





CHAPTER


32


I CLOSED MY EYES.

The grass, overgrown, ruffled against my neck, its broad blades tickling my skin. The noonday sun shone warm on my face. I heard cooing, and propped myself up to see a band of pigeons perched on the fence at the end of the garden. I looked for Bridget, but she wasn’t there. I hadn’t seen her for two days now. I wondered what had happened to her, and worried.

Nothing to do about it now. I sighed and squinted into the sky. For the past half hour, I’d heard the sounds coming from the manor behind me. They’d set my heart to pounding, but I couldn’t do anything about that, either. Just wait, and wonder, and worry.

From the alleyway, then, came another sound, the flapping wings of fleeing birds.

Time’s up.

? ? ?

The man stepped out of the maze. He came through the gate, past the lions, up the path. At the front of the mausoleum, he stopped, leaning a shoulder against the stone.

“The entire city is looking for you,” he said.

“I guess it’s lucky no one lives here anymore,” I said.

“More of a shame, really. Mortimer House is quite beautiful.”

My heart thumped faster. “You know it?”

Oswyn gave a slight smile. “I’ve been here before. Never in the garden, though.” He tilted his head. “Someone broke the lock on my office yesterday afternoon. Was that you?”

“I’m sorry, Master Colthurst. I got locked in.”

“How did you get out?”

“Prayer,” I said.

Oswyn’s smile widened. “Benedict made a good choice in you.”

I didn’t answer that.

“I received your message.” Oswyn held up the letter I’d sent him. “It says you have nothing to do with the Cult of the Archangel, and you’re innocent of the murders with which Richard Ashcombe has charged you.”

“I am,” I said.

“It also says you’ve discovered something important, and you need my help. I was surprised, to say the least. With all that’s going on, I thought you’d have fled London by now.”

“I had something to take care of first.”

“I’m sure.” He straightened. “So? What did you want of me?”

My breath shuddered in my chest. I had to will myself to keep still.

“I found the Fire,” I said.

“Oh?”

“That’s what Stubb and Wat were looking for in my master’s shop.”

“I remember.”

“Master Benedict hid the recipe in that puzzle cube he gave me.”