Bertram had grumbled a little when Mirabelle had told him what she wanted, but eventually he’d relented, only making one request, and that was that Jem turn round while he ‘shed’ his aspect and put on what he called his ‘proper one’.
She already knew about Bertram’s bear aspect, but Jem still marvelled when she turned back round to see a ton of fur and claws and teeth and muscle standing before her. Bertram’s red eyes glimmered in the night, and he lowered himself onto his forepaws, allowing Jem and Mirabelle to climb up on to his back.
Before she knew it, they were away. The wind blew back her hair as they hurtled through the night, and she had to use all her might to stay on board. She was terrified, but exhilarated, and she and Mirabelle laughed together when they glanced at each other.
Jem craned her neck up at one point, and she saw the stars. As she gazed at them, they were blotted out for a second, before reappearing then disappearing again. It took her a few moments to realize what she was seeing.
The ravens were following them.
Bertram slowed before the bend that would eventually take them into the village. He padded gently to where the forest edge met the road leading in, and Mirabelle and Jem climbed off him and took up a position just behind a tree. Jem was surprised at how disappointed she felt at reaching the end of their journey and, though she still felt a little giddy, she was already looking forward to the trip back.
Her attention was caught by something across the road, and she saw the one-eyed raven settle on a branch.
Mirabelle noticed it too. ‘Nosy,’ she said, scowling, and turned her attention back to the village.
Bertram sidled up to them in his human aspect.
‘This is very bad. We shouldn’t be doing this. It’s forbidden,’ he hissed.
‘Quiet, Uncle. If we do this properly, no one will know.’
‘This is very bad,’ he repeated, chewing on a knuckle.
Mirabelle took the first step towards the village. Jem’s heart fluttered.
‘Why can’t any of you come to the village?’ she whispered to Bertram.
‘It’s part of the Covenant, an agreement that goes back generations,’ he said, now chewing on his cravat. ‘No one from the Family may enter the village, and no one from the village may enter the estate.’
‘There are exceptions,’ said Mirabelle. ‘There’s Mr Fletcher, whose family has been bringing us meat for years. His father did it before him—’
‘And his father before him, and his father before—’
‘Yes, Uncle, I think Jem understands.’
‘And then there’s Dr Ellenby.’
‘He holds the key that allows Mr Fletcher to open the way through the Glamour, which leads on to the Path of Flowers.’
‘Like his father be—’
Bertram stopped when Mirabelle frowned at him.
Mirabelle continued. ‘But the way in is no longer hidden, thanks to the fracture in the Glamour. He knows more than anyone about the matters relating to my family and the village. And he was there when I was . . .’
Jem noticed that Mirabelle seemed to be struggling with the idea.
‘. . . born, I suppose.’
There was an awkward silence. No one seemed to know what to say.
A raven flapped above their heads and landed on a branch. Mirabelle glared at it.
She turned to Bertram.
‘Where is it, Uncle?’
‘Where’s what?’ asked a bemused-looking Bertram.
‘Where’s Dr Ellenby’s house? I’ve seen you looking at the old maps.’
Bertram turned to Jem. ‘I like looking at maps too. Maps are very interesting. When I’m looking at them, I like to find places I’ve never been and imagine I’m there and that—’
‘Uncle!’
Bertram pointed to the opening of a laneway at the end of a row of houses. ‘I think it’s down there.’ The village was almost in total darkness, and Jem felt a tickle of fear and excitement.
‘Right, then,’ said Mirabelle, waving them all forward.
They crouched low and headed in the direction of the houses.
The path was narrow. It stretched the length of four derelict dwellings. Two of them were boarded up; two others had broken windows that yawned into the night. The lane was bordered by grass on either side and dipped in the middle, which meant it was wet underfoot because water had pooled in the channel. Jem’s feet felt damp, but this wasn’t too much of a problem. The problem was the fact that the laneway was very short and terminated at the entrance to the village green. It continued again at the other end of the green, which meant they would be exposed for a few moments before finding cover again.
They stopped at the mouth of the lane, and Jem could feel her neck and shoulders tighten with tension. Bertram pointed to the other end of the green and mouthed, ‘Over there.’ Mirabelle raised a hand, signalling them all to wait.
Jem listened. She could hear the breeze and the distant bark of a dog, but nothing else. She was used to moments like this; she’d experienced so many of them while on the run with Tom, stealing about under cover of darkness. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like, and she was surprised to find that part of her had missed it.
‘Low and quiet,’ Mirabelle hissed.
They broke cover and skirted the edge of the green. The local church loomed above it on the far side, dark against the night sky, clouds scudding past its spire, and Jem couldn’t help but feel exposed beneath the starlight.
They made their way into the opposite laneway. There was a grassy slope to their left, and a row of terraced houses to their right. This lane was longer than its counterpart across the green, and they had to make their way past several houses before Bertram stopped, put a hand on Mirabelle’s shoulder, and nodded at a door. There was a plaque beside it with the words Dr Marcus Ellenby, General Practitioner engraved on it.
‘All right,’ said Mirabelle, straightening up.
Jem noticed how she hesitated for a
