Broken Veil (Harbinger #5)(48)

“Colonel Forsgren,” Stephen said, nodding. “A word, if you please.”

“Good evening, Lord Fitzroy. The trail is cold. I’ve men searching the estate, but we’ve no sign of Her Majesty. The keeper tells me that Mr. Batewinch disappeared mysteriously the other night on a zephyr. He hasn’t been seen since, and she has no idea where he went. I’ve ordered a hunt for the man. Sadly, I don’t think we’re any closer to finding our empress. I was about to disband the search.”

Cettie felt a discordant note in the colonel’s words. She recognized the sound, the feeling. A kystrel was at work. Cettie gazed at Mrs. Rosings, feeling her certainty grow.

She leaned over to Stephen and whispered in his ear. “The keeper has a kystrel.”

A look of annoyance flashed across the colonel’s face. “Is something amiss?”

Stephen glanced at Cettie and then turned back to the colonel. “Colonel, arrest this woman.” He gestured at Mrs. Rosings. “She’s part of the plot.”

Anger pulsed into the room. Cettie felt a wave of blackness smash into her mind. As if Stephen’s words had summoned them, the Myriad Ones began to draw in from the corridors, converging on the room from many sides.

“Young Fitzroy, I see no reason—” Forsgren began.

Cettie was not going to wait for the trap to spring. She stepped forward suddenly, grabbing Mrs. Rosings by the left hand. With her thumb on the top of the hand and her fingers digging into the fleshy underside, she twisted the woman’s arm, making her gasp in pain. A look of hatred swelled in her eyes. Cettie felt the woman’s fingers and discovered the hidden ring, the one she was using to alter her appearance.

Cettie twisted the ring off, and the illusion melted away.

The image of Mrs. Rosings was gone.

It was Mrs. Pullman.



Cettie looked into the face of her nemesis, the woman who had tortured her during her early days at Fog Willows. The woman’s craggy skin, drawn taut with dislike, and the fury blazing in her eyes showed she remembered Cettie well—and hated her still. A gasp of shock came from Stephen’s mouth. Colonel Forsgren stared at the woman in disbelief and confusion. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked.

“Mrs. Pullman!” Stephen said. The two had been close once. The old keeper had won him over with her solicitous behavior, hoping to make him into his grandfather’s image. In her absence, he’d fashioned himself after a much better role model—his own father.

“Let go of me!” Mrs. Pullman snarled.

Cettie released her, watching as the old woman chafed her bony wrist.

The light from the Leerings flickered, and the cloud estate jolted in the air. A decorative table fell over with a smash. Shattering noises came from beyond, and dishes were jostled out of place. Cettie felt the magic that had suspended Gimmerton Sough in the air for centuries begin to fail. The harmonious song, which was imperceptible to the others in the room, became discordant and began to fade into silence. When it did, the estate would fall.

The feeling of downward motion rattled everyone, causing grunts of surprise and looks of alarm. Then the lights from all the Leerings winked out, plunging them into complete darkness. Screams of terror erupted from the household servants. The estate was sinking, reminding Cettie of the day of the Hardings’ ball. The Hardings had lost their remaining fortune in a failed speculation, something that had caused the whole estate to jolt alarmingly, but it had been saved by Lady Corinne and her husband, who’d bought the manor. Of course, they’d engineered the whole thing apurpose. Cettie had been but a child then. She’d not understood the Mysteries at all.

“We’re sinking!” Colonel Forsgren shouted. “To the zephyrs!”

“Where are they? I can’t see anything!” Cettie didn’t know the man’s voice, but there was no mistaking his panic.

Standing by Stephen, she reached for his arm and felt it in the pitch black. He squeezed. They began to plummet in earnest, the feeling making Cettie’s stomach lift in her chest.

“We die together, little one,” Mrs. Pullman said in the dark, audible despite the screams that now filled the still air.

Cettie felt the Myriad Ones in attendance now, raging through the dark sitting room, feeding on the terrified minds of the victims about to perish.

Would there even be enough time to flee to the sky ships? In the dark?

Cettie squelched the feeling of panic rising in her gut. She could save the manor. She knew she could. Closing her eyes, she sought out the Command Leering. Obey me, she thought. Brighten.

A muted glow emanated from the wall Leerings, hidden behind translucent panes of glass. In the dimness, she saw the frantic faces of the people gathered around her. Only Mrs. Pullman looked resigned. Had she known she was to die? Was this her final act of revenge?

I am the keeper here, Mrs. Pullman thought, her words sharp as razors in Cettie’s mind. The lights began to fade.

Cettie saw the keeper’s key fastened to a strap around the old woman’s frail waist. Moving forward, she knelt and grabbed for the key. Mrs. Pullman’s fingernails raked across her hands as she fought to keep it in her possession.

You took it from me once! You won’t again!

Cettie felt the manor’s fall accelerate. The lights flickered, off and on, off and on, and shouts and screams continued to pierce the gloom. Some officers were staggering, trying to find a way out—a way back to the ships—but they could not keep on their feet for long. They would never make it in time. Mass chaos filled the flickering interior of the manor, and the Myriad Ones flitted from shadow to shadow, feasting on the despair. Despite the painful gouges on her hands, Cettie wrapped the strap around her own palm and tugged, trying to break the cord.