A Quill Ladder (41 page)

Her mother shifted her hand from the doorframe to Abbey
’
s father
’
s cheek.
“
We can
’
t leave the kids. Not now. I
’
ll be fine. I just have to ride a train and then lie in a hospital for twenty-four hours. It
’
ll be okay. If the stones aren
’
t working, I
’
ll come back, and we
’
ll figure something else out.
”

Abbey
’
s dad sighed and rubbed his eyes.
“
Fine.
”

Abbey
’
s mother continued down the hall and through the living room. She dropped one hand onto Abbey
’
s head.
“
See you tomorrow, Abs,
”
she said.
“
I love you.
”
And then she was gone.

The stones must have been working, because she didn
’
t return.

What had her mother meant about Mark being
“
in the system
”
?

“
Come on, Mark. Only one more step. It
’
s just a tunnel.
”

Mark inched down the stone stairs with his HexBright 500 Lumen flashlight. Sandy
’
s face appeared an odd pale blue in the glare. He shone the flashlight all around her.

It was definitely a tunnel. The walls were lined with round stones, like large river rocks, except Mark couldn
’
t imagine anyone having the resources or motivation to carry river rocks down into a tunnel. The floor was packed dirt, and water dripped from quite a few spots on the ceiling.

Mark could barely contain his urge to charge back up the stairs and stand in the weak light of the winter sun.

“
Let
’
s go,
”
Sandy said, as if their decision to follow the tunnel was a given. Mark walked a meter and then flashed his light onto his watch
’
s GPS. The tunnel led due southeast, back toward town, presuming of course directions were the same down here. The whole thing (and the fact that the tunnel entrance was marked by a dot on Dr. Ford
’
s map) had the feeling of being part of that whole witch-stones-docks continuum, and Mark wasn
’
t entirely convinced that by descending the stairs he hadn
’
t just arrived on a different planet, or plane of existence or some such other bad thing.

He started off down the tunnel after Sandy, as he rather suspected that she didn
’
t change her mind easily, and if he tried to sneak away, she would probably notice that it had suddenly gotten very dark.

The tunnel was about a meter and a half wide, and Mark breathed and counted by threes as they walked. He had counted thirty steps on the descent so, by his calculation, they were about five meters underground. The tunnel appeared to be level, so he assumed they weren
’
t still descending (but level could be deceptive, and if there was a slight descent he wouldn
’
t notice). He tried to think if there was anything in his satchel that he could place on the floor of the tunnel to see if it rolled in a consistent direction. He could use his flashlight, but he didn
’
t really want to put it down.

There were no river rocks studding the walls in this section, but Mark could see that they reappeared a bit farther down the tunnel for a stretch.

He realized that Sandy had been talking for quite some time.

“…
that we met up. I
’
ve been meaning to come and see you for some time. Have you been to visit Mom lately?
”

Sharing his mother was new and unexpected to Mark. He still couldn
’
t quite process that this woman, Sandy, who definitely appeared younger than him, had graduated from high school and gone to Nowhere before he had even been born, and that they shared the same mother. He was sure there must be some mistake. Still, there was the picture of Sandy and Dr. Ford (the very bad man) in his mother
’
s sock drawer.

“
I go on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays at seven p.m. and stay for one hour,
”
he said.
“
Except on holidays.
”
Then, thinking he had miscommunicated, he added.
“
On holidays, I go during the day and stay for two hours.
”

“
How has she been these past few years, before her stroke?
”

This was a stumper for Mark. How had she been? He believed that Sandy might be asking about their mother
’
s emotional state, but he had no idea how to answer that question. He could tell Sandy that their mother rose each day at 6:30 a.m, ate a fried egg for breakfast, smoked a pipe, walked two miles, cooked him macaroni and cheese, and watched
Dancing with the Stars
. But he was pretty sure this was not what she was looking for.

“
Was she lonely, do you think?
”

Another stumper. Lonely was not a word or feeling that Mark could process. Their mother had been largely alone. But had she been lonely? Mark had no idea.

While he pondered potential answers, he flashed his light around the edges of the tunnel, watching the movement of the shadows, and thinking that the walls felt like they were pushing in on him, just slightly
—
like he had to exert his will to keep the walls where they were and the tunnel open. The temperature had dropped, and a cool breeze wafted down the corridor.

“…
any other theories about the maps?
”

He realized, belatedly again, that Sandy had been talking and that he had missed the first half of her question entirely.

“
I require the fourth map in the series and the master map,
”
Mark said.

Sandy stopped walking and turned to face him. Her pupils were enormous and her face glowed white in the beam of the flashlight.
“
What fourth map?
”

Mark almost leapt backward. Something about her tone, some sharpness or expectation of obedience, made Mark feel almost compelled to reply, to start blabbering about Kasey
’
s map and his theory that one of the maps in drawer 309 was the master map that had the legend required to interpret the other maps, to tell her everything that he had considered with regard to the maps. But something equally strong within his mind ordered him to keep his mouth shut. The discomfort of these two warring instincts was too much, and Mark turned away and faced one of the stone walls. He started rocking back and forth, with one foot in front of the other, nodding, with his fists clenched tight and his eyes closed, trying to collect himself, and shut Sandy out.

*****

Darkness had already started to settle across the day when Caleb knocked on Abbey
’
s door. Their father shifted pans about in the kitchen, getting ready to prepare some sort of curry. Mark still hadn
’
t returned, and Abbey experienced a slight prick of discomfort with every few minutes that passed without seeing Mark
’
s slow determined gait in the driveway, his satchel slung under his arm.

Ocean had scratched at Abbey
’
s door and now lay on her bed, purring while Abbey halfheartedly did research on nothing of any use. Sam had finally emailed her to say that he had found an apartment in Lafayette and would be moving the following week, and then he would follow up on some of the research he had promised Ian that he would do. Ian. Why Ian? She closed her laptop with a snap. She wondered what gruel Simon might be eating for dinner.

She picked up the third card from Ian. It was totally blank
—
to her anyway
—
and she tossed it back on her desk in disgust. She reopened her laptop and composed a breezy email to Sam about nothing and then tacked on at the bottom:
“
Do you know anything about Quentin Steinam?
”

Caleb entered her room and plunked down on the bed.

“
Can I see the third card?
”

Abbey passed it to him silently, and he stared at it for a few seconds, closed his eyes, then opened them again.
“
If it
’
s any consolation, I can
’
t see anything either,
”
he said.
“
Maybe you need to try meditating.
”

“
What?
”

“
To read the cards.
”

“
Are you saying you meditate?
”

Caleb rose and wandered over to the table where she kept some of her chemistry supplies.
“
Where did those test tubes ever go, anyway?
”

“
They
’
re in my closet. We should never have taken them from the potential scene of the crime.
”
Abbey
’
s voice veered into unstable territory, and she blinked back a couple of tears.

Caleb
’
s green eyes met hers.
“
Which one of them are you worrying the most about?
”

“
Simon. And Mom. And Mark. I wish Mark and Mom would just come home.
”

“
Why don
’
t you try again with the second card?
”

The last light of the day flooded the sharpening curves of Caleb
’
s cheeks as he watched her. Already, she was starting to see the intensity of older Caleb in his eyes. When was she going to lose contact with her twin? And how? The bomb that was not a bomb? Or the release of energy from someone using a wormhole? Or were they one and the same?

According to her list, whatever it was, it was going to happen this summer. And then she might lose Caleb
…
and Simon. Forever. She
did
have to stop it.

“
I thought you weren
’
t into this anymore.
”

A muscle twitched in Caleb
’
s jaw.
“
Just because I took a break doesn
’
t mean I don
’
t think this is important.
”

“
Fine,
”
she said.

“
Pick a song you really like, or something. Sometimes I make my mind go blank. Sometimes I think about
…
September Parsons.
”
There was a strange pause before Caleb said September
’
s name, as if he had really intended to say someone else
’
s name.

“
You do witchcraft by thinking about a ninth-grade cheerleader?
”

Caleb winked at her.
“
A cheerleader who is also, I might point out, on the honor roll and can play the piano like Alicia Keys. Anyway, think about something that makes you stop thinking and start feeling. I don
’
t know. Recite the periodic table or something.
”

“
Very funny.
”

“
I know you do it.
”

Abbey picked up the second card, the one with the golden mean written in the center, mocking her. She closed her eyes and started saying the elements in her mind in order. Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, boron
…
Her eyes flew open.
“
Borax,
”
she said.
“
That
’
s what it smells like.
”

“
Excuse me, aren
’
t you supposed to be concentrating?
”

Abbey ran to her closet and pulled down the test tubes. The amber liquid had now evaporated, leaving a faint white residue behind. A faint white residue that smelled like soap. Borax, which was poisonous if ingested and could cause coma. Boron: element number five. Was that what Mrs. Forrester had been trying to tell her with the five sticks?

“
I think this is borax in the bottom of the test tube,
”
she said. But Mrs. Forrester
’
s symptoms didn
’
t quite match borax poisoning. And the symptoms should have mostly reversed themselves once the borax was out of her system.