Jute came out to stand by her side. “Just set it on the ground there, dear.”
Poppy spoke through gritted teeth. “Where? Show me.”
He patted her arm, and moved into the meadow to point at a patch of soil under the nearby lilac. “Here will be fine.”
Poppy dropped the feather on the porch, spun away, and slammed the door behind her, sliding the bolt. Jute was locked out.
“What are you doing? Why did you do that?” Mack asked.
The hob began to rap his knuckles on the door. “Poppy? Poppy, dear—I know you’re upset.”
Poppy didn’t wait to hear Jute coaxing her to open the door. If she was fast—and lucky—she wouldn’t need long. She dashed through the kitchen and locked the back door too.
“What are you doing?” Mack asked again as Dog hopped out of his arms, Eta moving to sniff at Jute behind the door.
She slid to a stop and looked Mack in the eyes. “I’m done waiting.”
Then she spun to race up the stairs.
CHAPTER THREE
Jute was knocking harder now, calling for her to let him in. “I’m sorry, Jute!” Poppy called over her shoulder. Brutus was barking at the hob now, and she fought off a surge of guilt that made her want to run back down and let him in. Instead, she continued her run up the curving stairwell.
She heard Mack’s footsteps behind her. They had reached the second-story landing when Jute called from outside. “Pandora Sunshine! Poppy! Whatever you’re up to, it’s not worth it! It’s a bad idea! It’s trouble!”
She pretended not to hear, and continued up the stairs, her heart pounding. She was going to figure out which malediction her mom and dad were going after. Jute wouldn’t have to be out long. She racked her brain. They didn’t keep their expedition plans in their journals anymore. She’d asked one too many questions.
The strongbox had to be in one of her parents’ usual hiding places. Jute had told her about it one night after a particularly bad nightmare. She’d been worried about them never coming back, and he had wanted to comfort her. “They have a plan,” he’d said. If there was ever an emergency, he was to check the strongbox, and take the contents to the Holly Oak. She’d found it several times, of course. It was just an old metal box with a padlock. Unfortunately, Jute had hidden the key well. Still, there were other ways to break a lock.
Jute’s voice drifted through a window. “Dog, hush! Stop barking!”
“We have to hurry,” Poppy said as Mack caught up.
“What are we doing? We should help Jute. You shouldn’t have locked him out.”
Poppy swallowed. Mack thought less of her for what she was doing to Jute—she did too. “I’ll let him back in in a few minutes. I promise.”
“What are we doing up here, Poppy? What are you planning?”
“We’re looking for Mom and Dad’s strongbox.”
Mack stopped. Poppy didn’t. “The sooner we find it,” she called over her shoulder, “the sooner we can open the doors.”
Mack nose-sighed. “Why are we looking for their strongbox?”
“You don’t want to know.” She paused. “In fact.” She met his eyes. “If you don’t want to help me, you can just go let Jute in. I understand. Just give me a five-minute head start.”
Mack bristled, blinking. Poppy turned her back on him.
His breath huffed behind her. “Let’s just hurry up. I’ll check their closet.”
Poppy knelt at the top of the stairs and bent to lift a loose board, crouching to see what was inside. She pulled out a curved knife, a fountain pen (a former malediction that her parents had undone), a feather duster, half of a rock-hard brownie, two bent nails, and a copy of Grimm’s Fairy Tales. She peered into the hole. No strongbox.
Quickly she put everything back and ran into her parents’ bedroom. “Find anything?” she called to Mack.
“Not yet,” he called from deep in the closet. “Why does your mom have so many boots?”
Poppy gave an un-Poppy-like giggle as she jumped up onto their brass bed. “Never underestimate practical footwear.” She took hold of the painting on the wall—a barn in the countryside, with a shaggy-haired cow that looked mildly affronted to be watched eating dinner. The picture swung open to reveal small shelves behind it.
Empty, except for an extra toothbrush and a pile of white pebbles.
Poppy moved to her mother’s elegant mirror, scrolled all around with gold curls and loops. It was enchanted, of course, as was almost every mirror from the wood. She pushed up her sleeve and jammed her hand through, gasping as the cold gripped back. The glass rippled like water. She felt around carefully, but only got hold of a small silk bookmark with mold stains, a half-burned candle, and a dead spider. She yanked her hand back out and shook it until the feeling came back. “Don’t worry, Mack! We’ll find it.”
Mack must have been at the very back of the closet. His voice sounded muffled and far off. “Not worried,” he called. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”
Poppy thought. She’d checked all the usual places. Maybe they’d put it somewhere so obvious they thought she wouldn’t bother looking. Her gaze fell on the bed. Before the thought had fully formed, she was on the floor, peering underneath. There was a rectangular shape tucked into the shadows. “Gotcha.”
She pushed herself into the dusty darkness under the bed to grasp the strongbox. When she had crept out again, she only had time to brush herself off before another round of knocks from below propelled her into action.
“Mack! I got it! Come on!” Poppy raced down the stairs with Mack on her heels. Brutus was still jumping up and down and barking like Jute was under attack by an unseen assailant, which was almost true. Eta looked back at Poppy as if she knew her girl was up to something, but there was nothing she could do. Brutus was keeping them at the door. He barked and barked.
“Mack.” Poppy gripped her friend’s
