Not prunes.
Toes.
“Dead man’s toes?” I leaped up, taking the box from him. “They actually made it here?” Knowing my luck like I did, I hadn’t expected the toes to arrive within the month, let alone by my thirteenth birthday on Friday.
Nell hung back on the couch, tilting her head to look at the ceiling.
“Yes, well, it seems like fate is on your side,” Uncle Barnabas said, plucking the box out of my grip and placing it in a soft cloth. “We’ll take the next few days to make our final preparations.”
Final preparations?
I didn’t like the sound of that either.
“I have rehearsal for the play tomorrow night, and the show starts on Wednesday. I can’t miss it without upsetting everyone,” Nell began.
“I don’t want to hear another word about this stupid play of yours, Cornelia.” Uncle Barnabas whirled on her, throwing a finger in her face. “And we’ll be closed for business until further notice. From this moment on, neither of you leaves this house.”
It was another few hours before I realized what—or rather who—was missing.
“Where’s Toad?” I asked. “I haven’t seen him since…the first howler.”
Nell sat up from where she’d been stretched out on her bed, her face buried in her pillow. Her dark, curly hair was standing up around her face like a full halo, bouncing as she quickly searched the room.
“Huh,” she said, sitting back down. “He sometimes wanders off to visit with Missy or go hunting for his meals. I wouldn’t worry yet.”
Is not the other changeling also missing?
I was about to point that much out to Nell, but the look on her face, so tired and gray, made me bite my tongue.
The snow outside had melted as rain set in that night and continued into Tuesday morning. It made it seem like the whole world was weeping, awash in its own misery. It could only have been painted in watercolor. The edges of the streets and nature seemed to blur with dark lines.
On the other side of the bathroom door, the shower’s running water continued to sputter and spurt. Curls of warm, wet air escaped the crooked cracks around the door.
“Prosper,” Nell whispered. “Maybe you should go.”
“Go?” I pushed myself up so I could see her more clearly over the top of the couch. “What do you mean?”
“Leave,” she said, keeping her gaze fixed on the bare tree branches outside. “Go back to your family.”
“The people trying to kill me?” I said. “Don’t forget, you are my family too.”
The shower cut off abruptly. The silence between Nell and me was so thick I could hear Uncle Barnabas as he dressed and quickly shaved. His glasses were still steamed over as he stepped into the attic, a large, familiar-looking leather book slung under his arm.
Nell’s mother’s grimoire.
He’d had it in his possession since we left Missy’s, and there hadn’t been a second he wasn’t watching it, holding it, reading through what pages weren’t enchanted to disappear to maintain privacy. Several times, I thought Nell would snatch it away from him, but in each instance she stepped away and left him to it.
“Cornelia,” he said. “I need to speak with you. Alone.”
They made as if to go out into the hall. I stood up quickly, recognizing my one chance for air and a small bit of freedom. “I’ll go check to see if Toad, uh, escaped into the backyard.”
“I don’t think that’s wise—” Uncle Barnabas began.
“Just the yard,” I promised. “You can watch me from the window.”
“Then put on the iron bracelets before you go.”
Something inside me recoiled, and I couldn’t tell if it was me or Alastor. Missy had given Uncle Barnabas four old, rusted iron bracelets that she claimed would have the same effect as a cut from a cursed blade. They were thin enough to not be heavy or cumbersome, but locking them over my wrists and ankles made me feel more like a prisoner than I’d have liked.
I left them to their serious faces and conversation. I felt a nudge of guilt and worry over leaving Nell to him—not because I thought Uncle Barnabas would hurt her, but because I had a feeling he hadn’t even given half the tongue-lashing he’d wanted to the night before. It was one thing to yell at a nephew, and another to discipline your own kid.
As I stepped outside, my feet sinking into the mud, I threw one look back up toward the attic window and saw nothing but the curtains.
You should not have agreed to leave. They could be engaged in nefarious plotting.
“It’s called trust. You should try it sometime,” I muttered, then cupped my hands around my mouth. “Toad? Toad! Are you back here?”
The snow and rain had turned an already hideous, overgrown yard into a swamp that seemed determined to suck me down into it. I made my way around the rocks and what was left of the lawn, checking the branches of the maple tree. Like a key inserted into a lock, each empty space twisted and twisted my heart.
Hopefully he was somewhere warm and safe—dozing in Missy’s lap by a warm, crackling fire.
A rustling noise caught my attention. I spun around, back toward the trash cans that Uncle Barnabas had yet to remember to put out on the curb.
“Toad?” Another black thought crossed my mind. “Or is that you, Nightlock?”
We had fed the hob and brought him back down to the basement the night before, locking him in. I wondered what Nell was planning to do with him after I was back at Redhood and Alastor was gone.
You believe it will be as simple as that?
Ignoring him, I made my way over to the trash can, pulling up the black plastic bags to make sure Toad hadn’t gotten trapped beneath them. And, because it’s just my luck, one of them split open at the belly, pouring out garbage everywhere.
I turned my face up to the cold rain and tried not to groan in frustration. The only thing I could do was stuff the papers and wrappers into the other, less-full bags. I was nearly finished when my hand closed around an empty, beaten-up padded envelope.
It was addressed to Uncle Barnabas from someone named John Smith in Sydney, Australia.
It must have been the packaging the toes had arrived in…only, no, that didn’t make sense. The CUSTOMS stamp from the United States said it had arrived on September 1, not yesterday. Maybe the package had gotten lost in transit to Massachusetts, or this was for something else. Those were the only options that made sense.
Because if Nell and Uncle Barnabas had all the pieces in place for the spell to remove Alastor this whole time, why were they pretending we needed to wait?
I warned you, Al said. And he wasn’t even gloating. Fear passed through me like a shade, freezing my core. There is still time. We can escape.
And go where?
—