"Of course I'm coming," Aisha says on the phone. "Your friend here, Alisa, has been the nicest. She's helping me pack everything."
"My lawyer," I correct with an amused smile. "I'm so glad you're coming, though."
A laugh. "Of course you are. How have you been surviving without me, anyway?"
It's not a serious question, but I answer it in my mind. Barely. She's like the angel sitting on my shoulder, and without her I would most certainly make a ton of bad decisions. Not that I don't make them either way, but we even each other out.
"I have to go," I tell her. "I'll meet you later today. I..." I pause, unsure how to continue. "There's something wrong here. And I need to find out what it is."
She stays silent for a long time. I'm about to check if she's still on the phone when she speaks again. "I'm worried about you, jaan. I want to help you but I know you can do this without me. Only trust your gut. Don't trust these Hawthornes. I don't like them."
Trust your gut. How often has she told me this? But I thank her anyway.
My plan for today is easy. I need to find Avery, and her letter, and then I will figure out what the letters mean. What the riddle means.
C. R. D. - M. L. T.
"Camille." Her voice is light, as though she hasn't been expecting me. "I was going to look for you."
"Hey," I murmur and step closer to hug her. I inhale and smell the sweet scent of my sister's hair. She may be seventeen now, but she will forever be my baby sister. "How are you?"
Avery pulls back and her eyes are full of excitement. "Look at this," she says instead. "The letters, right?"
Ah. So she has been on the same track as me and Grayson. It doesn't take an idiot to guess that Jameson is involved, too. "I know. Riddle?"
"Riddle," she agrees. "Jameson told me that this place is full of them. Apparently, Tobias Hawthorne loved games and riddles."
That's funny, I think. "Mum raised us to love them, too. Coincidence?"
"I don't know. But here, read mine first." She hands me her letter immediately, like she has been expecting me.
I open it, but the message is almost as short as mine.
Dear Avery,
I'm sorry. Trust your sister.
— T. T. H.
"You see that?" I chuckle. "Trust your sister, Avery." She rolls her eyes, but I'm not looking at her anymore. My eyes rush over the lines, craving more. I don't know why, but I need this. I need the information, but that's not all. I need the adrenaline, the rush I feel in the few seconds between figuring it out and tapping in complete darkness.
"What do you think?" She asks. "I also have Jameson's letter—"
"I've read that one already. Grayson gave it to me," I murmur, and frown at the thought. Why would he do that? Avery wiggles with her eyebrows and I snort.
She walks up and down and only now I take in her room. It reflects her a lot. It's in somewhat bright but neutral colours, but her favourite tones stand out a lot. Blue, beige, that sort. It seems she's taken her time to settle already. In contrast to that, my room doesn't look like my room at all. It's dark and has been stripped of almost all personality. I need Aisha to help me with that. "Jameson and I have started to search in the libraries already, but it seems impossible to find anything."
So she has been on the same track as me. "Grayson didn't even bother. He calls it a waste of time." I roll my eyes and she giggles.
"Maybe it's in the letters," she suggests. "I couldn't find anything else, but maybe there's a clue. Let's go over Jameson's letter again."
We lie down on her bed, side by side, letter between us, my almost black hair and her hair with strands of gold a horrific mess of curls. They're the only physical trait we share, perhaps, those curls. And Mum's eyes. I suppose it's more than I thought.
We go over it again. Maybe his letter will clarify something.
Jameson,
Better the devil you know than the one you don't—or is it? Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. All that glitters is not gold. Nothing is certain but death and taxes. There but for the grace of God go I.
Don't judge.
—Tobias Tattersall Hawthorne
"You know," Avery says. "I asked Alisa if Tobias Hawthorne even has a middle name. You know what she said? He didn't. But he legally added it. Tattersall. Sounds weird, no? And look, there's a space between Tatters and all."
"You speak too fast," I laugh. "And sure, whatever. All is in tatters? Lovely."
"Isn't it," she agrees.
Better the devil you know than the one you don't. I reread that line and I follow the hint of an idea. "Look here. The devil. What if this is referring to a book? Some kind of literature?"
"What literature has the devil? The bible?" She laughs, but I hold onto that thought.
"Yeah. I don't know. Maybe something related to it. Like..." It's on the tip of my tongue. I didn't ever finish reading it, but it left an imprint on me. "Faust."
She sits up. "You are a genius, Milly. Of course it's Faust."
C. R. D. - M. L. T.
I don't know how, but eventually, the four of us are standing in what seems to be the biggest library of Hawthorne House. Grayson has crossed his arms, not looking me in the face. Jameson is smirking at Avery, and I'm already walking towards the shelves when I am stopped by a voice. "What are you doing? You guys can't call us here and then not tell us anything."
I sigh internally and turn. "Right. We could be looking for Faust by Goethe. Maybe there's a different book beneath the cover."
"When did you figure this out?" Grayson asks.
"Just now."
But the search is disappointing. Every edition or copy of Faust reveals nothing at all. I look at Avery, who merely shrugs.
"There's nothing here." Grayson punctuates that statement by placing a book back on the shelf a little too hard.
"Coincidentally," Jameson comments up above, "you also don't have to be here."
"If they're here, I'm here." Before I can tell him how rude and absolutely unnecessary that is, Jameson interrupts him.
"Are you that obsessed with them?" He's teasing, clearly, but I almost choke.
"Jamie?" Grayson sounds almost too calm. "Shut up and keep looking."
Avery and I exchange looks. What the fuck?
"Look at this," Jameson suddenly says. If I'm not hallucinating things, his clothes look even messier than when I first met him. "This is Sail Away by Celia Imrie, but it's in the wrong shelf. This shelf is for the letter G, like Goethe."
A book that doesn't match its cover. That was an assumption on my part, but the instant I see the smile on Jameson Hawthorne's lips, I know that I was right. He holds up a hardcover book.
"And on the inside..." Jameson is a showman at heart. He removes the cover with a flourish and tosses me the book. The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus.
"Faust," I say.
"The devil you know," Jameson replies. "Or the devil you don't."
Everything is something in Hawthorne House.
That thought beats in my pulse as I open the copy of Faust in my hands. There, taped to the inside cover, is a translucent red square.
"Hey." I jerk my eyes up from the book. "There's something here."
"Filter paper." That comes from someone else. Grayson stands in the center of the room. "Red acetate. A favorite of our grandfather's, particularly useful for revealing hidden messages. I don't suppose the text of that book is written in red?"
I flip to the first page. "Black ink," I say. I keep flipping. The color of the ink never changes, but a few pages in, I find a word that had been circled in pencil. A rush of adrenaline shoots through my veins.
"Did your grandfather have a habit of writing in books?" I ask.
"In a first edition of Faust?" Jameson snorts. I have no idea how much money this book is worth, or how much of its value has been squandered with that one little circle on the page—but I know in my bones that we are onto something.
I flip another page and then another. It's fifty or more before I hit another circled word. Avery grabs a pen, and waits for me to speak. "Where," I say. "A..." I keep turning the pages. The circled words are coming quicker now, sometimes in pairs. "There is...A again..." I murmur. "There is again." I'm almost at the end of the book. "Way," I say finally. I turn the pages more slowly now. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Finally, I look up "That's it."
"You write that all down?" Jameson asks Avery.
"Yeah. Seems like a bunch of bullshit to me, but who knows."
Grayson cuts in. "Where there is a will, there is a way. I changed the order of the words, but there was a word missing. This is a proverb.
Jameson nods. "This isn't where to use the acetate. It's a message, directing us where to make use of the film."
They are used to playing their grandfather's games. They've been trained to from the time they were young. I haven't, but their back-and-forth has given me just enough to connect the dots. The acetate is meant to reveal secret writing, but not in the book. Instead, the book, like the letter before it, contains a clue—in this case, a phrase with a single missing word.
Where there's a will, there's a way.
"What do you think the chances are," I say slowly, turning the puzzle over in my mind, "that somewhere, there's a copy of your grandfather's will written in red ink?"