“I was surprised, too. When you thought I’d come to the realm for Rosetta.”
“You deceived me,” I said quietly.
Clem took my hand and looked at me earnestly. “Sam. I’m so sorry I couldn’t tell you; Mother swore me to secrecy.Do not tell a soul, were her words. I had to comply. I did almost tell you, by accident.”
“You did…” I said slowly. “I saw her here with Walter in your thoughts. And you said you felt fear for her, not grief. But when she died…or seemed to die. That sorrow…”
“Was real,” Clem said solemnly. “It was my mother I held. The mother who had been stolen from me, whom I hadn’t held for seven years. And Sam, I didn’t know then if the ruse would work. Or if I would lose Rosetta all the same. I have feared that until today. Every day since we returned from the realm, I have feared that they would find her.” She glanced across the garden at Rosetta. “And for a time, I’d given up. When I lay in the lilac room at Keel House, I had almost accepted it. That they would find her. That I could do nothing to stop it.” She turned back to me, and I saw in her eyes the truth of it.
“I understand,” I said, slowly reconciling myself to the deception. “But then if you didn’t go to the spirit realm for Rosetta, why did you go?”
Clem searched my face. “You don’t know?”
“No.” I truly didn’t. And then she showed me her thoughts: a strange jumble of impressions, all of them about me. I sat by herbedside in the lilac room; I smiled at her in the kitchen at Keel House; I wiped the dirt from her face, calling her name, on the lawn of the Manse. I recognized myself in her thoughts, but I had never seen myself that way.
“Sam,” Clem said quietly. “When I was in danger, you warned me; when I was alone, you comforted me; when the entire might of Cisneros was arrayed against me, you gave me strength.” She smiled, a tender smile that I didn’t recognize and that made my stomach drop. “I didn’t know who you were, but I couldfeelwho you were. So I went there to find you.”
There was a strange sensation in my chest, a peculiar feeling similar to what I’d felt when Clementine took the shroud: a sudden lightness, as if I’d just given a part of myself away. I couldn’t think how to reply. I took Clem’s face in my hands, and she didn’t recoil at the coldness of my fingers. Her eyes met mine; she smiled. I leaned forward and pressed my forehead to hers.
A laugh from Rosetta drew us apart. She and her mother were pulling Walter into their embrace. Clem put her arm around my waist and leaned against me.
There we were: two souls, standing together, watching the sun set over the autumn garden.
Epilogue
Saddle Street, October 23, 1888
It was late October, and the mornings had dawned with frost for three days in a row. The window of my room on Saddle Street was laced with ice, so much that it obscured my view of the street. But I could see the lamplights across the way, which seemed to fade as the sky lightened. Downstairs, my mother and Cris had been awake for some time, but I didn’t rush down quite yet. It was such a pleasure to hear the muted murmurs of their conversation as they prepared breakfast, tidied the kitchen, and opened the shops.
I hadn’t slept, of course; a spirit never does. I used the nights for writing. While the house was quiet, while Saddle Street was quiet, I penned page after page. It was pleasing to give order to the past in this way, to see the circumstances take shape in a manner that would exist outside my own head. Perhaps, even, in a manner that would interest a reader. Ah, now I could hear Roy arriving. He was already a favorite with my mother and Cris, despite what they considered his dubious choice of profession. Officers of criminal enchantment were not popular on Saddle Street, and it had taken two or three visits for them to understand that Roy wasn’t like the rest.
I doubt you wish to hear of yet athirdtearful reunion, so I will only tell you that it was on the day following our duel with the Cisneros Society, and Clementine entered the shops on Saddle Street before me to explain the circumstances. I told her that my sudden appearance would cause my mother too great ashock, but in truth I also felt nervous. When the door was thrown open and my mother ran out, calling my name with a tone of desperation that split my heart, I understood that this had been absurd. A moment later, Cris wheeled himself out to join us, and it was a long while before any of us was composed enough to offer explanations. Spirits are watery creatures, after all.
Now I heard another sound downstairs. The door opening again, and Clem’s cheerful voice, greeting my mother. I felt a swell of happiness at this unexpected visit; I had thought I wouldn’t see her until the afternoon.
I put down my pen and drifted down the stairs. There was Clem, leaning against the doorframe, wearing her enchantment trousers, as she called them. She smiled at me as I drifted into the room. I gave her a wink and the smile broadened. It was wondrous to see the change in her now that her mother had returned. She frowned less; she rested more; sometimes she even laughed.
And there was Roy, sitting near my brother’s workbench, listening to Cris’s description of something involving back hooks and wheels. My mother, I’d discovered, plied my friends with all the food she couldn’t give me. Balanced on Roy’s knee was a plate loaded with seed-cake, poached eggs, and two rashers of bacon. “Good morning, Samuel,” my mother said. She stepped forward and kissed me on the cheek, no matter if it was cold and clammy.
“Good morning, Mamá,” I said fondly.
Cris and Roy looked up from the clockwork to greet me.
“Sleeping late again?” Cris teased me.
“I’m late for something,” I replied, “for here it is a hive of activity. What have I missed?”
“A sighting in Danvers,” Roy said. “Unless Clem has more urgent matters at hand?”
Clem smiled. “Somewhat urgent. Pressing, perhaps.”
“Well, you’re not leaving until you’ve had at least some seed-cake,” my mother said, handing her a plate.
“There is always time for seed-cake,” Clem said, taking the plate happily. “Thank you, Mrs. May.” She took a seat next to Roy on the long bench and picked up her fork.
I could only bear so much indulgent attention to good food. “So what did you find in Danvers?” I asked Roy.
“It’s possible Hornsby passed through,” he replied. “I suspect a woman there of helping him, but she won’t tell me. I could use the help of someone who reads thoughts.”
