Witch Hunter (5 page)

‘Dead.’

‘I see.’ Just Peter’s scowl softens. ‘You’ve been in the

kitchen this whole time?’

I nod again. ‘I can kill chickens, cook them, too, and

ducks, peacocks, you name it. I make a good stew, decent

bread; I can even churn butter. And my floors are so clean,

you can eat off them.’ I wince, knowing how stupid that

sounds. But I have my orders.

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Just Peter waves his hand. ‘Very well. But besides that,

is there anything about you that is, say, different from the

other maids? Unusual?’

Only about a hundred things. Well, maybe not a

hundred. Maybe just one.

‘No, sir. I’m really very ordinary.’

He turns to George. ‘Veda must have meant someone

else. This can’t have been who she wanted us to find. I

thought for a moment, maybe, if she’d been a maid for

the queen. But this girl, she can’t help us. She’s just a

lass. George?’

George isn’t paying attention. He’s staring at me, the

most curious expression on his face.

‘Perhaps you’re right,’ George says, turning away from

me. ‘Let’s take her back to the palace. It’s late, and she’ll

be missed.’

We start walking back to court, taking the gravelled path

by the Severn River to avoid the busy streets. We stumble

along, me falling and George and Just Peter taking turns

pulling me to my feet and dusting off my cloak until the

path ends in a flight of steps that leads to the palace gates.

‘Here we are,’ Just Peter says. ‘George, you ready?’

‘Absolutely.’ George grins at me. I’m about to smile back

when I see his teeth stretch into long black fangs. I squeeze

my eyes shut.

‘Elizabeth?’ I open them to find Just Peter’s face only

inches from mine. ‘George will take care of you, make sure

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you get in all right. In the future, though, try to steer clear

of the absinthe?’

I nod. For a pirate, he’s very nice. I just wish his

face would stop melting. ‘Okay, Just Peter.’ I close my eyes

again. ‘I will.’

He chuckles softly. ‘Not Just Peter, love. Just…uh, right

then. George, I’ll see you later.’ He turns and disappears

into the darkness.

George helps me up the stairs to the heavy iron gate at

the top, which opens into the palace gardens. The guard

unlocks it for us, and George leads me inside.

‘We’re home,’ he says.

‘We?’ I blurt, surprised.

George laughs. ‘Yes. I live here, too. You still don’t

recognise me, do you? I’m King Malcolm’s new fool.’

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I thought he looked familiar. ‘You don’t look like a fool.’

‘I should hope not. I’m a fool by occupation, not

presentation. And only occasionally by reputation.’ He

grins.

‘You’re too young to be a fool,’ I persist, swaying

a little.

‘Not at all.’ George takes me by the shoulders. ‘I’m

eighteen, which is the most foolish age of all. All the troubles

of a man, yet none of the excuses of a boy.’ He leads me

down the dirt path that winds around the edge of the

garden. ‘We need to get you to your room before anyone

sees what condition you’re in.’ He looks around. ‘But I don’t

know how—’

‘Oh, I do.’ I grab his sleeve. ‘Follow me.’

I drag him off the path and across the grass towards a

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vine-covered wall. I walk along it, trailing my hand through

the leaves.

‘Know what’s funny about this palace?’ I say. ‘All the

gargoyles. Lots of them are hidden, but when you find one,

they’re always next to something interesting. See?’

I stop and point to the little snout that’s almost

completely buried by the ivy. Stick my hand into the

greenery and feel around for the door latch I know is there.

Got it. I lift it and hear a tiny click, then pull apart the

curtain of vines to reveal a small doorway.

He’s doing it again: staring at me with that funny

expression, his dark eyebrows raised, the tiniest smirk

on his face.

‘What?’ I say.

‘Nothing. But – you’re a funny girl.’

‘Not really.’

‘Yes, really. I mean, what does a girl from the kitchen

know about secret doors?’

I tut a little. ‘This is nothing.’

‘You don’t say.’ He shakes his head, then gestures to the

door. ‘Ladies first.’

I squeeze through the tiny opening, and George climbs

in after me. I lean out to rearrange the vines before closing

the door behind me. Inside, it’s pitch black.

‘There’s a staircase here,’ I say. ‘If you go all the way to

the top, you’ll come to a door. It opens up into the great

hall, behind that huge tapestry, you know, the one with the

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owls and bats attacking the wizard on the table?’ King

Malcolm has a fondness for violent tapestries and paintings,

and I hate them all.

‘Aye, I know it. But what about you?’

‘I’m going this way.’ I jerk my thumb over my shoulder,

though it’s so dark he probably can’t see. ‘Behind me.

The hallway leads to the kitchen. The maids’ quarters are

just past it.’

I stand there for a minute, waiting for him to leave. But

he doesn’t. And even though I can’t see him, I can feel his

eyes on me. I can’t figure out what he wants.

‘I guess you can go now,’ I say.

But he doesn’t move. ‘I would feel better if I saw you

safely to your room.’

I fold my arms. ‘I don’t need your help.’

‘I didn’t say you did,’ George says mildly. ‘I was just

being friendly. Seems as if you could use a friend.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘I dunno. Hanging out in a dodgy tavern alone, drinking

absinthe alone, stumbling home with a pirate and a

fool, alone—’

‘What’s it to you, nosy parker?’

‘Last name’s Cavendish, actually. But come on. Let’s be

friends. I’m new around here. I could use someone to show

me how things are done.’

‘You are a fool if you want a kitchen maid to show you

how things are done,’ I mutter.

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I wish he’d leave. I want nothing more than to go to my

room and sleep. Forget this day ever happened. In the dark

like this, the absinthe is starting to wear off and I’m

beginning to remember everything. Accidentally killing

that necromancer. Caleb’s kissing Katherine Willoughby.

Going to the masque with her while I stay home alone.

Then I get an idea.

‘If you’re King Malcolm’s fool, then I suppose you know

about his Yuletide masque.’

‘Aye. I’ve heard of it.’

‘If you really want to know how things are done around

here, that’s a good place to start. Since we’re friends now,

why don’t you go with me?’

George clears his throat. ‘Go with you?’

‘Yes.’

‘To the masque?’

‘Yes.’

Silence. For the third time today, I can feel my cheeks

getting hot.

‘What?’ I say irritably. ‘I suppose a fool is too good to go

to a dance with a maid?’

‘No. It’s just… I didn’t know maids were allowed to

go to masques.’

Damnation. He’s right, of course. Maids can’t go, but I

wasn’t going as a maid; I was going as a witch hunter. Not

that it matters, since I’ll be wearing a mask and no one will

see my face anyway.

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‘We’re not,’ I correct myself. ‘But you are. And as I say,

I think you should take me.’

He clears his throat again. ‘You know, you’re very cute.

And if I were at all inclined in that direction, you’d certainly

be someone to consider.’

It takes me a second to realise he’s turning me down.

‘A simple no would suffice,’ I mutter.

‘Suffice it to say, my no isn’t simple.’

‘I’m not in the mood for riddles,’ I snap. I’m starting to

wish I hadn’t drunk that ale. Or that I’d drunk more so

I’d be passed out somewhere instead of babbling like an

idiot to a fool.

‘I’m going to go now,’ I say. ‘So, as I said, up those stairs,

through that door, under the tapestry, and that’s that.’

I turn around and walk down the hall. I’m almost to the

end when I hear his voice.

‘Maybe I’ll see you around sometime?’

I don’t reply. I just keep walking.

Soon the hall grows narrower and warmer, and I know

I’m nearing the kitchen. Supper was over hours ago, but I

can still smell the food through the wall, hear the commotion

on the other side as they clean: pots banging, maids

shouting, the footsteps of servants still carrying in trays

from the dining hall.

My stomach starts growling, and I wonder if I can sneak

inside and get something to eat without anyone seeing me.

I drop to my knees and skim my hand along the wall until I

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feel a small notch, big enough to slip my finger through: the

handle on the tiny door that opens into the kitchen between

the wall and the bread oven.

I discovered this door my first week in the kitchen. I was

only nine then and didn’t have the courage to open it.

I didn’t know what was on the other side, but I imagined

plenty: snakes, ghosts, vicious child-eating monsters. Time

passed and I forgot about it, until one day Caleb came to

keep me company while I did my chores.

I remember his sitting on the floor, playing against

himself in a game of dice, left hand versus right. He wasn’t

supposed to be in the kitchen with me; the other maids

found him distracting. Caleb was only fourteen then, but he

was almost six feet tall, with dark blond hair that fell over

his eyes in waves. He was good-looking and he knew it.

I was only twelve and I knew it, too.

I also knew he was stubborn. No amount of whining or

pleading could make Caleb do something he didn’t want to

– or turn him off course once he’d decided to do it. If he

wanted to stay in the kitchen and distract me, he would.

The door is what finally enticed him to leave that day. He

swept his dice from the floor, crossed the room, and pushed

it open. There was a hall on the other side, dark and dank,

leading to the unknown.

He asked me to go with him, to find out where it went.

I didn’t hate small, dark spaces then – not like I do now –

but I still didn’t want to go. I had work to do and knew I’d

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get in trouble if I left. But I always followed Caleb

everywhere. There wasn’t any place he could ask me to go

that I wouldn’t say yes to. But I never considered the

possibility that one day he would stop asking me. Never

realised that without him, I had nowhere to go.

Suddenly, I don’t feel hungry anymore. I get to my feet

and push through the next door, into the hall that leads to

the maids’ quarters. Here, it is dim, lit only by a single torch

set into a bracket in the wall. But it’s still bright enough to

make my head start spinning again, just like it did inside

the tavern. I lean against the wall and close my eyes to try to

make it stop. I’m tired. So tired that when I hear his voice it

takes me a second to respond.

‘Elizabeth?’

I jerk my head up. There, at the end of the hall, is Caleb.

He starts towards me, his hands clasped behind his back.

My heart leaps at the sight of him.

‘Where have you been?’ He’s standing in front of me

now, his face half hidden in the shadows. ‘And what

happened to you? You look terrible.’

‘Just what every girl wants to hear,’ I mutter.

‘I didn’t mean it that way.’

‘What are you doing here?’ I say. ‘Shouldn’t you be, I

don’t know –’ I wave my hand around ‘– moving in circles

and swaying oh-so-gently to the music?’

Caleb smiles. ‘It’s midnight. The ladies have been asleep

for hours.’

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Something about the way he says that grates on me.

As if he’s insinuating I’m not a lady because I haven’t been

asleep for hours. As if I didn’t already know I was no lady

without that.

‘Well, tra-la-la,’ I say under my breath.

‘I wanted to check on you before I went to bed, only

you weren’t here.’

‘I was busy,’ I snap. ‘I don’t always sit around my

room waiting for you to show up. If that were the case, who

knows how long I’d be stuck inside?’

Caleb’s eyes go wide. I don’t think I’ve ever talked to him

this way before. But I’m so angry I can’t help myself.

‘Besides, I don’t need you to check on me. I’m perfectly

fine.’ I move towards my door but get hit with another

wave of dizziness. I throw my arms against the wall to

steady myself, but my feet get tangled up in my cloak and I