I stopped, and the charm went cold in my hand.
The bowl’s reflection shifted again, but this time, I saw my mother. The images weren’t of her in Stonewick now. They were of her standing in the same sleeping chamber, wearing her favorite sweater, hair mussed, face pale but determined. She looked toward the same bookcase I had found in my roomand slipped the glass charm into the blue book with trembling fingers.
She glanced over her shoulder and whispered something.
But who was she speaking with?
I leaned closer, and the water rippled as I saw her lips move again.
The east root.
Root?
The image vanished, and I stared at the bowl.
“The east root,” I whispered.
The golden bell inside the next case rang once with a tiny, delicate sound that was far too loud in the silent room.
I jerked backward as the hallway lights flickered.
No.
No, no, no.
The charm in my hand pulsed wildly and pulled toward the opposite end of the hall. I hurried that way, keeping close to the wall, passing two doors I didn’t recognize and one I did.
The pretty door. It was the same one from inside my room, and my skin prickled.
“Mom?” Celeste’s voice echoed softly.
But that made no sense. She was far from here. Keegan had her. My parents were with her.
The charm in my palm turned icy until it nearly burned like frostbite.
Don’t trust the pretty doors.
I backed away as the voice came again.
“Mom, please.” Celeste’s voice came through again.
I closed my eyes. “You’re not her.”
The door rattled once, and the voice changed to my own.
“Maeve, open the door.” I sounded loud and harsh.
Too much like the Priestess. She’d gotten into my mind.
I turned and continued down the hall, faster now, as the charm warmed again.
I approached a narrow archway almost hidden behind a curtain of dead, black vines. The vines twitched when I neared, and my shadow mark pulsed in response as I stumbled to get away from them.
I knew better than to touch strange vines in a shadow compound while a murderous grandmother slept somewhere nearby.
Or pretended to sleep. Did the Priestess sleep? Probably not. She likely closed her eyes and plotted everyone’s demise for relaxation.
I pulled one of Twobble’s pebbles from my pocket.
