She charged across the stair hall into the parlor and pulled open the drawer of the lacquered table. There, she found the tooth resting beneath the deck of cards where she’d left it. The rune carved into it was blackened from years of dirt; it looked like a diamond with legs. She held it to her. Something beat in this ancient incisor, yellow at the root like summer squash. Something Cordelia wanted to understand. She’d felt it when she’d first laid eyes on it that day, and she could feel it now.
An idea began to form in her mind. She made her way back to Eustace. When she reached the desk, she placed it on the wood.
Eustace picked it up. “You kept one?”
“I found this in a drawer the day we came here,” she admitted. “I was drawn to it. But then it started acting strange, wiggling or vibrating in place. I got scared, and left it there and closed the drawer, then forgot all about it until we were at the crypt.”
Eustace reached out slowly and laid a finger on the incisor, then picked it up when it didn’t respond. Holding it, she studied the inscription up close. “Othala.Possession.It also meansinheritance.”
The irony was not lost on Cordelia. “Which one is missing then?”
“Missing?”
“You said there were twenty-two but there should be twenty-four. This one brings it to twenty-three. One is still missing.”
Eustace inhaled deeply. She pulled the teeth out one by one, checking their inscriptions. When she’d at last considered them all, she put them back and met her sister’s eyes. “Algiz,” she told Cordelia. “Protection.”
Cordelia’s suspicion grew. “Like Mom’s tattoo.”
Eustace nodded.
“Could it still be down there in the basement room? Could we have overlooked it when we were picking them up that day?”
Eustace opened a desk drawer and pulled out a large chrome flashlight. “I’m game to check.”
Together, they crept down the tight staircase into the darkness, the beam from the flashlight cutting through it with brilliant precision. They didn’t waste time looking around, but made their way straight to the little room, last on the left. Eustace sat the flashlight upright on the table against the far wall, pushing some picks and scrapers over to make room. The light bounced off the ceiling and rained back down, creating a dull circle of visibility. Both sisters scoured the dusty floor on hands and knees, but came up short.
“It’s not here,” Eustace said. “We’d have found it by now.”
“I thought that might be the case,” Cordelia told her, standing up and dusting herself off. “These teeth are different than everything else in this house. I could feel it that very first day. They’re powerful, and they’reold.That’s why she took one.”
“What are you saying?” Eustace asked her.
Cordelia grabbed her wrists. “Thisis what Mom took. One of these teeth. A very particular one. That’s what allowed her to leave and stay alive away from the estate, for a time at least.” She gripped her sister’s hand containing the pouch. “These are the charms.”
Eustace looked down at the open bag of teeth she was cupping in her hands. “Of course,” she said, eyes rounding. “But where did she keep it? And why the tattoo?”
Cordelia shook her head, releasing her sister’s hands. “She must have kept it close somehow. I don’t know how it all ties together, I just know this is it.”
Eustace frowned. “Well, it’s gone now. Who knows what shedid with it?” She started pacing the odd little room. “We’re missing something. I can feel it. It’s like it’s right in front of our faces and we’re just not seeing it.”
Across the room from them, a skinny bone the length of Cordelia’s hand—the humerus of some animal—clattered in its place on the shelf and dropped to the floor.
She ran over to pick it up. Staring at Eustace, she fumbled for the truth.
Her sister picked up the flashlight to shine it Cordelia’s way. On the shelves behind her, the bones glowed softly white. One by one, they each began to rattle, rolling across the shelves and bumping into one another, then clattering to the floor.
“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Eustace asked her.
Cordelia spun around and backed away from the shelf until she was at her sister’s side, the humerus still in her hand.
“The bones,” Eustace whispered, taking the humerus from her, starting for the corridor and the stairs. “Follow me!”
Cordelia rushed up the staircase behind her and pushed the bookshelf closed. The bones had gone quiet again.
In the study, Eustace laid the humerus next to the therimoire. “Look at the shape,” she said. “This is what we think of when we think of bones. This long, tapered pillar that swells at each end, then branches into joints and connections with smaller bones.”
“True,” Cordelia said. “But what’s your point?”
