Whisper the Dead (The Lovegrove Legacy) (12 page)

Aunt Bethany smiled crookedly. “I’m getting as bad as your grandfather,” she said. “Go on and take a turn about the garden in the meantime,” she suggested. “Before that bird breaks the glass.”

The door leading to the garden was flanked with two massive sphinx statues. The Egyptian decorating craze had passed, but Aunt Bethany’s love of the artwork had remained. There was a statue of Anubis, the jackal-headed god of the dead, propped in the hallway, which the maidservants avoided. One of the footman swore the statue had blinked once, and then his mother had died of a fever the next day.

The garden wasn’t any more traditional, even with the customary pebbled paths and hedges. Silver and glass charms dangled from tree branches, sending out sharp prisms of light. There
were rowan saplings in pots lining each walkway and clustered at the gates. Snakes slid through the grass toward Emma, who strode grimly toward the painted shed.

Until a few weeks ago, they’d always assumed it was merely the stillroom where Penelope’s mother made perfumes. It was easy to see now how much more was kept here. The dried flowers hanging from the hooks in the ceiling were wrapped in white thread. There were rowan berries everywhere, and jars filled with salt. It smelled like the last perfume or potion Aunt Bethany had concocted, heavy with lilac and amber.

Emma went straight to the small hooked rug under the worktable and kicked it aside to reveal the trap door. “I’m going,” she announced.

Gretchen and Penelope exchanged a glance. “Shove over. You’re not going alone.”

“You might get in trouble.”

“Promise?” Gretchen grinned.

“Almost definitely,” Emma grinned back.

Penelope slipped between them and scurried down the ladder. “Are you two going to stand there all day grinning at each other like gooses?” She vanished into the dusty darkness. A curse followed almost immediately. It was mostly in archaic Tudor English and made no sense. Gretchen followed, Emma pulling the door shut over their heads.

The darkness swallowed them. It was so palpable, they could have drowned in it. There was barely any room to move, only elbows pressing into one another, and toes being stepped on. The air was damp and dungeonlike.

“I forgot how much I hate this,” Emma muttered. There was the scrape of antlers on the wall, and a peevish, “Ow!”

Gretchen ran her hands along the walls until she found the doorknob. “Got it,” she announced just as Emma started to hyperventilate.

Even though there was no door, turning the knob created an opening into the goblin markets. This time it didn’t deposit them in the alley next to the Three Goblins tavern; it dropped them in the middle of the bridge. Only the large emerald-green snake that startled passersby prevented them from being run over by an ox with silver horns pulling a cart full of swan wings.

“Oi!” The coachman hollered at them, his black cat familiar hissing and spitting at his side. “Move it!”

They scrambled out of the way, letting the bustle of the crowd carry them to one side. The wind carried the scents of salt and flowers, overpowering the stench of the Thames below. The pomegranate lamps swung overhead, pealed open to reveal glowing seeds, hanging on leaf-twined chain, punctuated with red-glass lanterns. There were witches everywhere, sorting through evil-eye beads, dried grass picked inside the circle of Stonehenge, silver apples filled with cloves, and a dizzying array of protective charms in the shape of miniature white horses and gargoyles. Hawkers shouted about amulets guaranteed to stop the Greymalkin Sisters.

They stepped into a gap between a shop selling herbs and another selling gargoyles. The contorted stone faces watched them from behind diamond-paned glass. Moths clung to the
shop sign like snow, and clouds of them drifted between the shops. “I don’t remember it being this crowded before,” Emma said, angling herself so she wouldn’t accidentally stab someone with her antlers.

“That’s because it wasn’t,” Gretchen remarked when a woman trod on her foot. The woman looked terrified, spitting on the ground to avert the evil eye and then losing herself in the throngs of witches. Gretchen shook her head. “I suppose I should be glad she didn’t spit on me.”

Strings of holed stones and rowan branches hung with bells promised to block warlock magic. It was the wind chimes made from silver knives and purporting to keep away the Sisters that gave Gretchen an instant headache. She stepped closer to the stall as Penelope wandered away to look at fruit.

“These wind chimes are faulty,” Gretchen said, rubbing her temples.

“Piss off,” the shopkeeper snapped.

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m only saying that if you replaced the glass beads there with amber and rose thorns, they might actually be effective.”

“As if I can afford amber.” He snorted. He leaned forward menacingly. “Now piss off, I said.” He yanked a cord, dropping a curtain down to screen his wares from the curious bystanders who were starting to eavesdrop. Gretchen didn’t like the undercurrent of suspicion and fear running through the markets.

Emma touched her arm. “We’re drawing attention,” she murmured. Moths had already covered the curtain. Gretchen
nodded and stepped back, but not before she pilfered a miniature chime from the edge of the table. Emma raised an eyebrow.

“It’s homework,” Gretchen maintained. “I’m going to fix it so it works properly.”

They ducked into the shadows. “We’d better find the Toad Mother,” Emma murmured, as dozens of ospreys lined the roof across the bridge. “Before someone notices my new friends.”

Tobias frowned at a flock of white ospreys flying overhead, their shadows crossing the bridge. “That’s odd.”

Cormac watched them circle with a shrug. “Goblin markets,” he said, as if it explained everything. “Are they connected to the fox-girl trail?”

He shook his head, ignoring the old witch who made a rude sound when she saw his Keeper pendant. He also ignored the lady who fluttered her eyelashes at them. “No, but we’re on the right track. I just have to sort through all of the blocking spells.” There were so many charms dangling from every shop, stall, and lamppost that it gave him a headache and muddled his tracking. His brother would have told him to wear the wolf and be done with it.

“Fox-girls,” Cormac winced. “I’d still rather fight a river demon in my smalls.”

Tobias snorted. “As I recall, that didn’t end so well.”

“For the demon.”

“And nearly for you.”

He shrugged, grinning. “True.”

“Anyway, fox-girls, like all girls, will stop whatever they are doing to flirt with you.”

Cormac just grinned again. “Speaking of girls, if you’re here, who is trailing after the delectable Lovegrove cousin?”

“Some poor sod who’s being punished for falling asleep at the ball because he’d misplaced his shield charm,” Tobias replied. “Gretchen will eat him alive.” He shook his head. “I just don’t understand those girls,” he muttered.

“Girls aren’t meant to be understood,” Cormac returned. “Just appreciated.” There was a flash of something in his eyes that Tobias couldn’t read, but it was quickly replaced by Cormac’s usual lighthearted charm. “Anyway, I suspect they’d say the same about us.”

“I’m not even sure Gretchen Thorn
is
a girl,” Tobias returned. “I’ve seen demons with softer manners. She fights everything. All of the time.”

“Good,” he said. “You could use a little fight in your perfectly pressed life.”

Tobias narrowed his eyes. “What do you—”

“You must be talking about my sister,” Godric interrupted mildly. “She has that effect on people.” Though he looked as cheerful as ever, his wolfhound-familiar had an icy stare.

Tobias bowed politely. “You’re late.”

“Probably.” He didn’t seem too concerned about it. Tobias began to see the family resemblance between the twins. Most Ironstone students were keen to shadow Keepers for an afternoon.

Godric just glanced at Cormac and sighed. “There’s a dead girl flirting with you.”

Cormac grinned at the empty air. “Hello, lovely.”

Godric raised his eyebrows. “Don’t you find that the least bit disconcerting?”

Tobias snorted. “He’d find it more disconcerting not to have anyone flirting with him at all.”

Penelope couldn’t help
but admire the baskets of fruit in the stall half-curtained with strands of wooden beads. There were pomegranates, apples, pears, starfruit, pineapples, and sugar-dusted peeled grapes. She reached for a pear, gleaming like sunlight on gold. She’d never smelled anything sweeter. She could already feel the juice running down her chin. The old man behind the stall cackled. Her fingers brushed the fruit tenderly.

And then someone spun her sharply away, and she grabbed nothing but air.

The old man hissed his disappointment. Her own thirst for the fruit made her throat ache.

“You don’t want to eat those,” Cedric warned her, his fingers still wrapped around her wrist. “Goblin fruit.”

She blinked at him. “What?” She felt bewildered and unbearably sad at the loss of the pear. She fought back tears.

“Goblin fruit will leave you addicted, like the blokes in the
opium dens,” he continued. “Some will even steal years off your life.”

“Oh.” She snatched back her hand. The clouds skittered over the sun. Cedric pulled her away from the stall, until she stopped stealing glances back at the baskets. She felt as though cobwebs were being pulled from her eyes. Her spider familiars raced around her, glowing irritably. She blinked up at Cedric again.

He wore his usual trousers and white shirt open slightly at the throat. No aristocrat would deign to show his throat in public; he’d wrap it up in a complicated cravat. Cedric was the coachman’s son, and he couldn’t afford cravats. He didn’t wear colognes, either, or pad the shoulders of his coat to make himself seem larger. He was strong and muscular and honest. She had to remind herself that Cedric didn’t feel the least bit romantic toward her. “What are you doing here?” she asked, coming out of her bewilderment.

“Your mother doesn’t trust the Greybeards,” he replied.

“Did he follow me here?” She peered over his shoulder. “Do you know who it is today? Ian said he had other plans, so someone else would be watching me.”

“I can’t believe you’re on a first-name basis with him.”

“I like him.”

“I’m still setting the dogs on him. Anyway, the other two are still watching the house, waiting for your cousins to emerge. They’re just students. They clearly don’t think you can get into trouble at home.” His smile was crooked and familiar. “And so they’ve just as clearly never met you before.”

He bought a small tin of lemon drops from a woman selling
sweets and marzipan birds. He handed Penelope one of the candies. “Try one of these instead. They taste like sunshine.”

She popped one into her mouth while slipping her arm through his. He didn’t know it, but she’d keep the little tin in the keepsake box on her desk. She kept all of the little gifts he gave her, even though they meant nothing to him. She couldn’t help herself.

“Since you’re spying on us anyway, you can help us find this Toad Mother. Emma needs …” She paused, eyes widening. “I hear music! In my head!” She tilted her head, shaking it as though there were water in her ears.

Cedric chuckled. “It’s the lemon drop.”

“It’s brilliant!” There was a pianoforte playing music just for her. She listened carefully, trying to memorize the tune. She wondered if she could play it herself, or if it would float away once the candy had dissolved.

“What have you done to Penelope?” Gretchen asked. “She looks barmy.”

“Magic sweets,” Cedric replied. “She’s listening to music.”

Penelope closed her mouth with a snap, once she realized it had been hanging open. She swallowed the last of the lemon drop hastily, nearly choking.

“You’re not spying on us too, are you?” Gretchen asked.

“Just her.” Cedric tilted his chin in Penelope’s direction without an ounce of apology. “In case her Keeper is a prat.”

“Ian’s perfectly amiable.”

“Mine’s a prat though,” Gretchen sighed enviously. “So’s Emma’s.”

“Let’s not get distracted,” Emma suggested drily. Her antlers were covered in moths. There were more clinging to her shoulders like a fluttering shawl. People were starting to stare. A snake slithered out of a rainspout, trying to reach her. Dozens came down the bridge, spooking a Pegasus. A little girl chased them, scooping them into a wire birdcage mounted on a slender pole.

“Might I be of assistance?”

“Lord Beauregard!” Penelope exclaimed, turning to stare at Lucius. “I didn’t know you were a … that is …”

He smiled at her, the light glinting off the silver buttons of his coat. “Witchery runs in my family too, yes.” He blocked a serpent from crawling over Penelope’s foot with the end of his walking stick. “We appear to be overrun.”

“Aye,” Cedric agreed without inflection.

Lucius reluctantly tore his gaze away from Penelope. “I beg your pardon. I see you already have an escort.”

“Lord Beauregard, this is Cedric Walker.” Penelope introduced them, despite the fact that no one bothered to introduce stable hands and family servants to earls. Cedric nodded a greeting.

Lucius’s gaze went back to Penelope. He smiled shyly. “I hope you like tulips.”

“They are my favorite,” she assured him. “How did you know?”

“Lucky guess.”

“Well, they are very beautiful, thank you.”

“My pleasure.” An osprey landed nearby, black eyes gleaming. His beak looked wickedly sharp.

“I’m afraid we must be on our way,” Penelope said to Lucius, disappointment plain in her voice.

“Until we meet again then, my lady.” He kissed the back of her hand, winking up at her when the others couldn’t see. Her cheeks went pink. She couldn’t help but watch him until he turned a corner and disappeared from view.

“This way,” Cedric said quietly, leading them in the opposite direction.

Never mind that London Bridge shouldn’t be able to host invisible markets; it certainly shouldn’t be able to contain the volume of shops, stalls, and alleyways of the goblin markets. Once off the main path, it became a warren of hidden walkways. The cousins followed Cedric down an alley with cobblestones covered in snow even though it was a warm April morning everywhere else. Frost flowers climbed up the rainspouts. Icicles dripped on their heads and the alley stretched on far longer than was logical before ending abruptly at the railing overlooking the river.