He reeled from the closed door as if it really had hit him in the face, and then leaned his back against it, in the certain knowledge that it was not going to reopen, no matter how much he pounded on it. He knew Ellini. She would not make a scene – and the more scenic you became, the more she withdrew from you, until her eyes were the black of endless tunnels, rather than thick, warm, sound-muffling night.
Anyway, he didn't want to collapse there – not with the splinters of her reproach digging into his back – so he made it out into the corridor and sank down against the far wall, keeping her door in view. Then he drew his knees to his chest and curled up. "Oh, that hurt."
This was bad. It didn't just feel bad, it was bad. The badness would reach its tentacles into the future and curl round upcoming events. She would not ask him to help her with Myrrha now. Worse still, he would not be able to kill Myrrha – even supposing he discovered how to – and she was not the kind of enemy who could be locked up, or reformed, or reasoned with.
That was the practical bit. The personal bit was that Ellini thought he was a killer. It was a discovery he had never wanted her to make. It was the reason why he had always been sure he would lose her, in the end. She was a good woman and he was a killer. It had all been decided with Henry and Baby Jane, and his sudden inability to play the piano. The next time she saw Elliott Blake, he would be such an appealing contrast...
But there was a kind of dim acceptance of the pain, even as it set his teeth on edge. It was not as bad as the last twelve hours had been good. And he had known she was going to leave. It had just been so nice, those few hours when they'd been friends...
"She overreacted," said Elsie.
Jack did not look up. He didn't want to see her white, well-meaning face – or worse, that of John Danvers – looking down at him.
"You know that?" A hand touched his shoulder, and he clenched his teeth to keep from tearing himself away. "She'd been so happy, and then she was so shocked – to suddenly be told she was free of her curse. It was too much for her. Her emotions were running too high. She didn't know how to be calm."
Jack burrowed his palms into his eyeballs and sniffed. It hurt, but his eyes were dry – if slightly bloodshot – when he emerged. "I agree with everything except the overreaction part. You can't really overreact to murder. It's murder."
"It sounds as though she was a horrible woman, this Violet-"
"Was she a threat to me? Could she fight back?"
Elsie pressed her mouth into a delicate line. "I should imagine not."
"Well, then. Let it hurt. It should."
"She blames herself, anyway-"
"Yeah, that's worse," he snapped. "Can you understand that that's worse?"
He got up, and his knees didn't buckle under him. It turned out that they were both there, Elsie and Danvers, though the latter was keeping silent. That, too, was worse.
"Holiday's over," he said to Elsie. "Do you feel like working?"
"With you? Always."
Jack saw Danvers wince at this, but didn't comment. "Good. Tell me what you've found out about Myrrha. And then I want you to tell me everything you can about this list." He drew the piece of paper out of his pocket, unfolded it, and held it up, even though he knew she couldn't see it. In Danvers's neat, respectable handwriting, under the heading 'How to save Ellini from her past' were the words 'Ring. Sister. Piano.'
***
The ivy was perfect. She had been longing to climb it from the moment the Academy had loomed into view, nestled at the heart of those climbing plants like a tea-pot in a cosy.
It was like climbing down a green chute – admittedly, a damp green chute, with nameless things brushing her neck, dripping down her collar, and rustling in her ears. She would probably be finding twigs and spiders in the oddest places. But that was all right, because she was the only one who would be looking in her oddest places from now on.
She reached the bottom, and tried to tug the most noticeable leaves and twigs out of her hair. She would need to hail a hansom cab, and cabbies developed a kind of blindness towards people of unkempt appearance, although she remembered – how well she remembered! – a kind-spirited one who had driven her all the way to London while she'd been bleeding to death on his upholstery.
She crunched down the gravel drive, keenly aware of how visible she would be from the Academy's windows – a dark-haired woman in a hive of blondes.
But hopefully it was too soon for anyone to be looking out. As far as they knew, he was still in her room. As far as they knew, she had thrown herself onto the bed and cried her eyes out. She had wanted to do that, it was just... well, Jack might have heard her, and the ivy had looked so tempting, and Robin needed her. There would be time enough to cry her eyes out. Anyway, she was coming back.
There was a cab at the side of the road, just a little way down from the gates, and the driver on top of the box tipped his hat and jumped down as though he'd been expecting her.
"Where can I take you, Miss?"
"I didn't say you could-" said Ellini, and then stopped as he opened the door for her. Matthi was already inside, in her shapeless greatcoat, looking expectant.
"You're not the kind for barricading yourself in your rooms, I thought. Not when there's an open window and an abundance of climbing ivy outside. Besides, you seemed to 'ave something on yer mind, even before the pillock made you angry. So where to?"
Ellini climbed inside and shut the door in the face of the grinning coachman. It wasn't really fair, but she felt as though they were both having a laugh at her expense – and since there was no way to discompose Matthi, she might as well take it out on the coachman.
"I was going to come back," she said sulkily, when they were alone.
Matthi said nothing, which probably meant she didn't believe her. Ellini wondered now if she believed herself.
"Where to?" Matthi repeated.
Ellini sighed and settled back into the seat. "North-west, perhaps? What's to the North-west of the city?"
"Binsey? Wytham woods? Am I allowed to ask the purpose of the journey, or is it a surprise?"
"Robin's in trouble. I think."
Matthi blinked. "Oh. Well, that should be fun to see."
"He'd be about half a day behind me," said Ellini, with an impatient wave of her hand. "He would have sulked for half a day, and then he would have come after us."
"'e could've taken the train and got 'ere before us."
"No, he would have wanted to stay close, to see if we got diverted or waylaid. But the snow would have prevented him from getting into the city last night. So we're looking for a town to the North-west – on the coach road, or near it – somewhere with a decent Inn, because he likes to travel in style."
It wasn't a wild stab in the dark, asking Matthi. She didn't know Oxford, but she absolutely devoured reading material, particularly atlases and ordinance surveys. She loved reading so much that it had transcended the mere deciphering of words on a page – she read maps, she read lips, she read music, she read signs and symbols, gestures and expressions. She would have read minds if she'd considered such a thing to be a possibility.
"There's Eynsham," said Matthi, tilting her head. "Quite the place for toffs, 'cause of the 'unting. And they say a witch lives there. Foxes 'ave ben found chewing on bloody stumps, that kind of thing."
Ellini's skin prickled. Could it be Myrrha? Could Robin have gone to her? Or blundered into her by mistake? But no, she was in Edinburgh, wasn't she? Everyone had said so.
Ah, but she had been somewhere nearby before – when Jack had forgotten her, and Ellini had been lonelier than she'd ever been in her life. Close enough for Mr Danvers to go and see her, and beg for a counter-spell. Close enough to watch and laugh.
"So near?" she murmured – and then shook herself. "Let's go there. If nothing else, it'll be an interesting drive in the country."
Matthi got out to talk to the driver, and when she came back, they trundled on in silence, while Ellini tried to stay on top of her guilty thoughts.
You drove him to madness – you drove him to kill. Violet always said everything was your fault, and she was right. You turn everyone into a killer, whether they're affected by your magic or not.
It was like trying to stay on top of a rock-slide and not get dragged under. She never would have managed it if Matthi hadn't been there, as an embarrassing potential witness to her tears.
"You know," said Matthi, as if reading her mind, "Violet really isn't worth your regret."
"I see," said Ellini, without looking at her. "You want me to be angry with Jack but not upset about Violet? It doesn't work that way."
Matthi stared sulkily out of the window. "It's not like you're gonna be angry with 'im for long. Might as well enjoy it while I can." She shifted and turned towards Ellini, then turned away almost as fast. "When I opened the door an' saw you together on the steps..." She trailed off, as if lost for words.
Ellini looked at her. Her hair always seemed wet now, because of the dye – black as liquorice, slick and clumpy. It was mostly tied back, but there were a few curls coming loose. Absent-mindedly, Ellini reached out and twisted one of them round her finger. "I'm sorry, Matthi."
Matthi gave her a swift, bitter smile. "I ent never seen you like that, Leeny. Like you was a girl again. Lit up like a bloody electric bulb. Can you be sorry? I'm not sure I can." She shrugged, and pulled her hair away from Ellini's fingers.
"I reckon," she said, after a moment's thought, "that's 'ow your Robin Crake must've felt after you met Jack again in Northaven. You can almost convince yerself of the contrary when the two of you are apart, but seeing you together really brings it 'ome. There aint nothing that can keep you away from each other. The way you suit each other, the way you can't even 'ave a fight without delighting each other. Makes everyone else feel lonely. Makes us lash out."
She sniffed and sat up straighter. "I know I reacted selfishly. I knew it would 'urt you. But I hate 'im, Leeny. Can't 'elp it. I want you to be 'appy. I want you to be that lovely lightbulb of a woman I saw on the steps. But I hate 'im."
Ellini squeezed her arm, and this time Matthi did not pull away. "You see everything so clearly."
Matthi gave a sour shrug. "Yeah. It doesn't 'elp."
***
The witch's house was not hard to find. Everywhere else in the village, the snow had been shovelled away or trodden down. But nobody went near the witch's cottage.
The sun was setting by the time Matthi and Ellini arrived, so they called at the Inn to get lamps and shovels, in case the road was impassable. They had been hoping to procure a guide as well, but there were no volunteers from among the drinkers.
They reached the cottage via a long, fir-shrouded avenue, and found the door standing open. Snow was piled up in the doorway like a welcome mat.
It was deserted. They had said at the Inn that the witch had packed up and left last summer, taking the furniture, and most, but not all, of the evil. Fewer cows were sickening, fewer children went wrong in the head, but there were still the bloody foxes – bloody in every sense of the word – and it was a brave man who'd try to hunt them these days. They were the witch's spies. She could see through their eyes and taste with their mouths, and they were always hungry.
Wild animals had certainly been in the bare, uncarpeted hallway, salvaging... whatever Myrrha had left behind. There were bloody tracks, as of heavy things dragged across the floor. Ellini tried not to follow the lantern-light into too many corners, just in case she came across the leftovers.
It was dried blood, though. Too old to be Robin's.
As they passed from the hall into the kitchen, something glittered on the left-hand wall. When Matthi raised the lantern, they saw dozens of grey-green jars, each with... things... swimming in them. Crinkled and colourless, swollen and shrunk, some with hair follicles still clinging on.
"Goodness," said Ellini, when she'd been staring at them for so long that she'd passed from doubt to certainty and back again. "They're..."
"Yeah," said Matthi, frowning up at the shelves. "Funny I should know what they are, 'cause technically I aint never seen one."
"Technically?" said Ellini, intrigued despite herself.
"Well, I've seen men pissing in the street, but there's a limited amount of information you can glean from that."
"And from this, believe me. In neither situation are you seeing them at their best."
"I'll take your word for it," said Matthi, shrugging. "This is her 'ouse, yes? The Queen of the Wylies?"
"I think so."
"Then your Jack's lucky not to've ended up as a specimen, I reckon."
"You think these are... the male victims of the spell?"
"'Victims', are they?" said Matthi – but without rancour, and mostly to herself.
"I can't imagine what they were hoping to learn," said Ellini, gesturing awkwardly with her lantern. "I mean, you preserve specimens in order to study them, but what could you learn from this?"
"Well, it's a dehumanizing gesture, aint it? These ugly grey things are the source of all power in society, and 'ere they are out of context – quite lit'rally cut off – and what's their value? It's all a trick." She pointed to the nearest jar. "Would you take orders from that?"
Ellini gave her a faint, worried smile. "Could Myrrha have recruited you-?"
"To the 'men are useless' brigade? Certainly. But it seems a bit much to take it out on some girl 'oo's fallen in love with one of 'em."
"That's just what I think," said Ellini. "They punish the woman as mercilessly as the men. I won't say 'more mercilessly' – not now I know what was done to Jack. But it's as though what they're really trying to punish is love!"
"Well, they can punish all they like, it's not going to learn its lesson." Matthi hefted her lantern in the direction of the steps that led up from the kitchen. "I'll check upstairs. You wait for me outside."
"Wait a minute," said Ellini, catching her arm. "I'm the one who picked a fight with a sorceress. I should be checking upstairs. You take the back garden."
"Oh?" said Matthi tartly. "Out in the cold with the wolves?"
"There aren't any wolves in England."
"Foxes 'oo've developed a taste for human blood?" she suggested. But she moved towards the door anyway. It didn't really matter which of them was in danger. It never had. If one of them died, they were both finished.