Hawthorn (28 page)

I stopped at the shrine to Saint Eleanor at the bottom of the stairs. There were more candles burning and more tokens
crowding the niche, photographs of sweethearts, husbands, brothers, and fathers. The women of Bouillon had stolen out in the night to pray for the men this war would take away. I wished I had a photograph of Raven.

Instead I plucked one of his loose feathers from my hair and laid it on the shrine. “Keep him safe,” I said. “Keep them all safe.”

As I walked back to the Hotel de Bouillon the bells of the village began to ring. I hoped it was a sign that someone was listening to our prayers.

IN THE NEXT
few weeks, while the Germans besieged Liège, we marshaled our forces and fortified the Castle of Bouillon to withstand van Drood's attack. Mr. Bellows set up headquarters in the great hall of the castle complete with maps flown in from a Belgian boys' school by Gus, plans of the castle provided by Aesinor, a wireless set carried from Paris by Miss Corey and Miss Sharp, and a war table with tin soldiers and toy tanks provided by Daisy, who said they were a gift from Bottom.

I was surprised to see Daisy arrive without the three Hawthorn boys. “They wanted to join the British Expeditionary Force,” she told us, handing out tins of biscuits and tea she'd brought with her from England. “And march with their pals from Hawthorn. The BEF will be here soon.”

Mr. Bellows set Daisy in charge of restoring the bells in the tower—they needed new ropes and ringers to pull them—and “provisioning” the castle for a long siege. At night I flew her around the countryside to collect supplies. Gus and Dolores flew reconnaissance missions east to report on the progress of the Siege of Liège.

“The Belgian forts are holding strong,” Dolores reported,
“but we're worried about the German siege guns. We've seen them in the factory at Essen and they're enormous.”

“They're so big,” Gus informed us, “that the Germans can hardly move them.”

“That might be to our advantage,” Mr. Bellows said, studying the map. “If we could keep the Germans from getting the guns to Liège—say by blowing up a railway tunnel . . .”

And so our first sabotage missions began. Kid Marvel turned out to be adept at planning missions, and Omar could mesmerize any German soldiers we encountered. Along with scores of brave Belgian citizens, we cut telephone and telegraph wires to hinder the Germans' communications and we blew up bridges and railway tunnels to slow their advance. And yet they kept on . . .

“Like South American predator ants,” Mr. Bellows remarked one evening. “Nothing seems to stop them.”

“It's because van Drood is with them,” Omar said. “I have seen the German troops, and they are shadow-ridden.”

Although it was worrying to know that van Drood was with the troops, I couldn't help but be glad that he was staying away from Bouillon. I didn't want him anywhere near Helen—even though I wasn't sure Helen would have known if he were there or not. Since the first night she had remained in a delirious limbo. Manon watched her when I was away, sitting by her bedside with a bit of lace she was working on, chatting amiably about her upbringing at the convent, where she had learned to make beautiful, intricate lace, and her ambitions to become a
lingère
at one of the big
salons de couture
, while Helen tossed restlessly.

Although I spent most of the night at the castle I tried to sleep a few hours toward dawn at the Hotel de Bouillon in the hope that Helen would communicate with me again in that shadowy dream space. But even though I dreamed of the ruined Blythewood, Helen wasn't very communicative there. She wandered the halls of the ruined school as if she were looking for something—or someone—muttering inconsequential nonsense.

“This is where Nathan carved our initials,” she said, pointing to a fire-blackened wall. Or “He's playing hide-and-seek but I know all his hiding places. I'm just pretending that I can't find him.” Then she would drift off into the fog, which seemed to grow thicker with each dream, crying,
“
Olly olly oxen free!”

“I'm afraid she's getting more and more lost,” I admitted to Daisy one night while we were making up beds in the tower. “She seems to be living in her memories.”

“Who can blame her?” Daisy replied. “The past is looking more and more like a better place to be.”

I was surprised to hear Daisy sounding so pessimistic. “Have you heard from Mr. Appleby?” I asked.

She sighed. “He's upset I'm over here with the war breaking out. In the last letter I got before I left London he said if I didn't come back he was going to sail to England and join the BEF.”

“Can an American join the British army?” I asked.

Daisy shrugged. “I don't know. But I imagine that before long they'll take whatever they can get.”

Taking her own statement to heart, Daisy disappeared into the forest one night and came back with a battalion of lumignon and a cadre of tiny wizened gnomes called lutins. The
river was full of undines, she said, who were also willing to fight. She was right that we'd need all the help we could get. By the middle of August the last fort in Liège had fallen, opening the rest of Belgium up to the German army. The mood in Bouillon changed. I'd thought the town was deserted before, but many of the residents had been hiding behind their shuttered windows and high garden walls. Now they appeared on the streets whispering together in tight, frightened clusters.

At the sound of guns from the east, the villagers scattered back behind their shutters and walls, but many reappeared a little later with their belongings piled into goat carts and vegetable wagons and headed east toward the French border. Madame Berthelot joined the exodus. She gave Manon her heavy ring of keys and instructions to dump out the wine in the cellars rather than let the Bosch drink it. Then she kissed Manon on both cheeks and hurried out the door, grabbing the empty birdcage as she went.

“You should go with her,” I told Manon.

“And leave Mademoiselle Helen?
Non!
She needs me. She likes me to tell her stories about the nuns and she admires my lacework.”

“I'm sure she is very grateful to you for staying with her, but she wouldn't want you to risk your life on her behalf. I think we should move her into the castle. My friends are gathering there to . . . um, hide from the Germans.” I couldn't very well tell her we were planning a battle against van Drood and his shadow army, but keen-eyed Manon, who could detect a microscopic flaw in a lace pattern, didn't buy my story for a second. She
tugged at the skin below her eye in that characteristic Gallic gesture of skepticism.

“You have not fooled me, mademoiselle. Do you not think I see you meeting with those handsome boys in the moonlight? And going into the woods? And bringing supplies to the castle? I know that you are working with the Resistance and I want to be part of it. I will help you take Mademoiselle Helen to the castle and then fight at your side.”

She drew herself up to her full height of five foot one and placed her hand over her heart. I thought she might burst into a rendition of “The Brabançonne.” There was no one I'd rather have fight by my side, but how could I take her into a castle full of fairies, Wieven, and a winged serpent? Not without some warning.

“There are a few things about my friends that you might find surprising,” I began.

In the end, Manon was not overly surprised that the castle was full of fairies and gnomes. “My
grand-mère
always told me such creatures existed.”

We carried Helen to the castle with Marlin and Raven's help—or rather, Marlin carried Helen and Manon, Raven, and I carried all of Helen's luggage. I could hear Helen murmuring in Marlin's arms. “Where are you hiding, Nathan? Olly olly oxen free!” I felt sorry for Marlin.

“She's reliving her childhood,” I told him. “I think it represents a safe place for her right now.”

“Then I'm glad that's where she is. When she realizes Nathan isn't going to come out of hiding I'll be here.”

“Ah, so the handsome American loves Mademoiselle Helen, too, but she loves another,” Manon observed as we settled Helen in a camp bed in a tower room that Daisy had fixed up for Helen. “Who is this Nathan that she calls out to, and why is he not here by her side?”

“He's a friend of ours who has lost his way,” I replied, busying myself stacking Helen's trunks. “I don't know where he is.”

“I think we know where he was a week ago,” Daisy said, coming into the room breathlessly. “Come on down, Ava, there's someone you have to see.”

I followed Daisy down the steep winding staircase, nearly tripping over the worn ancient stones, into the great hall. A crowd was gathered in the center of the room around the war table. They parted as I came forward, revealing a tall man with shaggy white hair and beetling eyebrows.

“Professor Jager!” I cried. “I thought you were in Vienna!”

“It was time to retreat,” he said, bowing his leonine head over my hand. As he bowed I couldn't help noticing a bald spot on the top of his head. His once magnificent head of hair had thinned, as if negotiating with German diplomats had forced him to tear his hair out. I remembered him haughtily demonstrating magic lessons, but the months of watching his diplomatic efforts fail to avert war had turned him into a humbler man.

“There is no shame in a well-considered retreat,” Beatrice said, stepping out of her father's shadow and leading forward
a girl in a cloak. “And Nathan asked us to take Louisa out of Austria, so we thought it best that we bring her here.”

I stared at the cloaked girl beside Beatrice. A wisp of pale, nearly white hair fell over her gray eyes. I recognized those eyes—they were identical to her twin brother's—but I barely recognized Louisa Beckwith. It had only been two years since Nathan had rescued her from Faerie, but she looked like she had aged ten. I remembered that Helen had said that Louisa wasn't well, but I was shocked at how wan and lost she looked.

“Hello, Louisa,” I said. “I'm Ava, a friend of Nathan's. We met at Blythewood.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you,” she said mechanically without looking me in the eyes. “Blythewood must be lovely this time of year. Do you play cards? Perhaps we could play a round of flush and trophies later.”

“That's all she wants to do,” Beatrice whispered. “Nathan said it calms her down.”

I remembered that when we'd found her in Faerie she was playing cards and that she'd wound herself into the fabric of Faerie by doing so. “Where is Nathan?” I asked.

“We don't know,” Beatrice answered with a worried look. “He brought Louisa to us a week ago, begging us to bring her to you, and then he disappeared.”

“Louisa?” Marlin stepped forward and stared at the girl. “Is it really you?”

Louisa blinked at Marlin, a spark of intelligence briefly lighting her vacant eyes.

“Do you two know each other?” I asked.

“We met in the woods a few years ago,” Marlin answered, not taking his eyes off Louisa. “I thought we'd become friends, but one day she just stopped coming. I was sure she had turned against me because I was a Darkling.”

“
Louisa
is the Blythewood girl you liked?” I asked, flabbergasted. “Didn't you know she got lost in Faerie?” I turned to Raven, who had seen Louisa stray into Faerie. “Didn't you tell him?”

“I had no idea it was the same girl,” Raven said. “I didn't even know there
was
a girl until later.” He turned to his friend. “You didn't tell me.”

“I was embarrassed,” Marlin replied. “We weren't supposed to talk to humans back then,” he explained to the rest of us. And then, looking back at Louisa, “I'm sorry you got lost in Faerie. I should have looked for you. I thought you'd stood me up.”

“I was unavoidably detained,” she said in a polite, wistful voice. “But I'm here now. And what a lovely hotel this is! Are you here to show me to my room?”

For a moment Marlin's face looked stricken as he realized how lost Louisa still was. I saw his eyes slide away, as if he'd rather make a joke or escape than deal with addled Louisa, but then he firmed his jaw and held out his arm for her. “Yes, that's exactly what I'm here for,” he said. “Let me show you the way.”

“We'll make a bed for her in Helen's room,” Daisy said, following Marlin and Louisa. “Manon can keep an eye on them both.”

When they had gone, I looked back at Beatrice. “Nathan didn't say where he was going?”