Miss Moore's hand shakes. She shuts her eyes.
The creature turns its hideous head in our direction.
"There is one more, I see," it hisses. The sound makes my blood go cold.
"No," Miss Moore says. "Not this one."
"She cannot bring you in. Why do you care if she is sacrificed?" it screeches in that doomed voice.
"Not this one," Miss Moore repeats. "Please."
"We decide who shall be spared, not you. It is your misfortune if you come to care for them." The thing expands to fill the sky. The skeletal face is large as the moon. The mouth opens to reveal jagged teeth.
"Run!" Miss Moore screams. "Run, Nell! Keep running! Block it from your mind!" I do. In Nell's body, I'm running as fast as I can, slipping over rocks. My heel catches in a crevice, and my ankle gives way with a sharp twist. Wincing in pain, I hobble on, down the cliffs, the thing hunting me.
The creature shrieks in rage.
The fear is overwhelming. I shall die from fright. Have to keep it from my mind. "Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water. Jack fell down and broke his crown and Jill came tumbling after."
I'm out on the slippery rocks. The sea grabs at my ankles, soaking me through. It's coming. Oh, God, it's coming for me. "Jack and Jill, Jack and Jill, Jack and Jill . . ."
It's so close. I let go, falling into the restless sea. I'm sinking. Lungs ache for breath. Bubbles race for the surface. I'm fighting the current. I shall drown! I open my eyes. There they are: the three of them. Such pale faces! The dark hollows beneath their eyes. My scream is buried underwater. And when I'm pulled from the depths by a pair of fisherman's hands, I'm still screaming.
The pressure's back. The vision's ending, and I find myself once again in the yellow light of Miss Moore's flat.
I know the truth. I try to stand and my legs give way. With effort, I stand. When I leave, I don't even bother to shut the door. The stairs shift before me. I go to put my foot on one and fall.
"You awl righ'?" Mrs. Porter asks. I cannot answer. Must get outside. Air. I need air.
Mrs. Porter comes after me." 'D'you ask 'er 'bout me rent?"
I stumble out into the night air. I'm shaking all over, but it isn't from the cold. It's the magic taking hold of my body, wearing me down.
"Miss Moore!" I scream into the darkness. My voice isn't much more than a raw cry. "Miss Moore!"
They're at the bend in the street, waiting for me, those awful girls in white. Their shadows grow taller, long dark fingers creeping across the wet cobblestones, closing the distance between us. The familiar voice skulks out. "Our mistress is in. We have the seer. She shall show us the Temple."
"No . . . ," I say.
"It's almost ours. You've lost."
I try to swipe at them, but my arms barely move. I fall to the wet street. Their shadows reach across my hands, bathing me in gloom.
"Time to die . . ."
The constable's shrill whistle rings in my ears. The shade recedes.
"Easy there, miss. We'll get you home."
The constable carries me down the street. I hear the percussive clicking of his shoes on cobblestones. Hear the whistle blowing, the voices. I hear myself mumbling over and over like a mantra, "Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me ..."
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
SOMEONE DRAWS THE CURTAINS. THE ROOM GROWS dusty dark. I cannot speak. Tom and Grandmama are at my bedside. I hear another voice. A doctor.
"Fever . . . ," he says.
It's not a fever. It's the magic. I try to tell them that, to say something, but I cannot.
"You must rest," Tom says, holding my hand.
In the corner of the room, I see the three girls waiting, those silent, smiling apparitions. The dark hollows under their eyes remind me of the skeletal face of that thing on the cliffs.
"No," I say, but it comes out as no more than a whisper.
"Shhh, sleep," Grandmama says.
"Yes, sleep," the girls in white whisper sweetly."Sleep on."
"Something to help with that..." The doctor's voice is tinny. He brings out a brown bottle. Tom hesitates. Yes, good Tom. But the doctor insists, and Tom puts the bottle to my lips. No! I mustn't drink. Mustn't go under. But I've no fight left. I roll my head, but Tom's hand is strong.
"Please, Gemma."
The girls sit, hands in their laps. "Yes. So sweet. Drink and sleep. Our mistress is in now. So go to sleep."
