Twenty-Nine

After Matt walked out, I felt like a zombie.

No one had any energy left. Hayley sat at the card table, staring at the puzzle, not even trying to fit the jigsaw together. Abigail sat on the edge of her bed, staring straight ahead. Her arms were wrapped around herself, as if trying to hold her whole spirit together. Talk about the Sword of Damocles: It was over our heads, swinging lower.

It sliced away our hope: hope for rescue, for getting out of there. For me, the main hope I’d lost was that I had meant something to Matt, that I had been wrong about him and he was nothing like Fitch. I wasn’t going to let a broken heart defeat me. I had until they returned to come up with a new solution.

The old dilemma was still there: We had to knock out the camera feed before we could break the window and head down to the street, and the ceiling was still twelve feet high. The stuffed birds hung down twenty inches or so, but that still left them way too high off the floor for us to reach.

And it wasn’t as if Fitch had left a ladder to make things easy for us.

I felt a combination of galvanized, discouraged, determined, and apprehensive. I knew I’d hear footsteps on the stairs before long, and that might be the end of us. I didn’t know for sure what Fitch had in mind for us, but I was positive it couldn’t be good.

I found myself standing in front of the panels. The Sibylline sisters had left clues for us all along, I realized. They had triggered Iris’s memory, told her where to look for Hayley. In a way, they were where it had all started: the first sisters known to have the family malady. I hadn’t spent any time with the panels—with the oracle sisters—since Fitch had drugged and hauled me into the attic.

Each of the three panels was a rectangle made of wood—about six feet tall, three feet wide—with the surface painted in oils. From a distance, the sisters looked similar: tall, slender, standing in a classical pose reminiscent of ancient columns, wearing identical pleated white dresses that fell to their ankles.

But up close, the sisters’ features were different. Circe and Athena bore a family resemblance—they had the same golden-red hair as Minerva did, and Daphne had her dark hair. I noticed that all three sisters were wearing necklaces—fine gold chains with a charm attached.

When I leaned closer to see what was etched in the gold, I saw, to my shock, that the jewelry was real, not painted onto the wood—the chains were attached to the panels with delicate silver wires, and the charms dangled freely.

I couldn’t believe it: The charms were exactly the same as the ones Minerva made at her shop—gold, set with tiny diamonds. And just like the one I had found at the grave site in the Braided Woods. I reached out to hold the disc on Athena’s necklace in my hand, and I saw that Athena’s exact features had been etched into the delicate circle of gold.

Then I peered at the other two charms. Each one contained a portrait that resembled, exactly, the girl who was wearing it. The craftsmanship was brilliant and uncanny.

“Abigail,” I said, beckoning her over. I pointed at the three necklaces.

“Just like the ones my cousin makes!” she said, coming to stand beside me. “They’re exactly like Minerva’s.”

“That’s how they look to me, too,” I said. “But is there any way to tell how old they are? Were the charms made when the panels were painted?”

“Well, there are some scratches in the gold, so that could mean they’re old. But they look exactly like the ones Minerva makes so?.?.?. I don’t know.”

“Abigail, does Minerva ever come here, to the attic?” I asked.

Abigail looked upset. “He brought her here once. To do a test on her. She didn’t like it.”

“I know, it hurt, she told me. But I mean, does she come here other times? Does she know what’s going on, with what Fitch did to my sister?” I asked.

“I don’t think so,” Abigail said. “I’m pretty sure that I’m the only one in the family who knows.” She looked troubled, filled with shame. “And I’ve stayed quiet. I haven’t told. Oli, thank you for even talking to me. For asking me about these necklaces. You must hate me.”

“I know it’s complicated for you,” I said. “I get that you love Fitch. It must be hard to see him this way. And you’re helping us now. So thank you.”

She nodded, her expression lightening a little.

I stared at the necklaces again. They seemed such a different addition to the panels—clearly laden with meaning. I wondered if Minerva had attached them. If she had, it meant that she was in on everything. She had driven us here to the Miramar. She had spoken badly about Fitch, but what if that had been a way to put us at ease while she delivered us straight to him? Deep down, I couldn’t believe that.

I heard very faint footsteps in the hallway. The sound was different than usual—as if someone was sneaking up the stairs and didn’t want to be heard. I was suddenly on high alert—Fitch had said they would be back before long.

I heard the key quietly scratching at the lock, then a long silence, and that was strange, too. I’d noticed Fitch’s way was to shove the key in so hard, it was almost violent, as if he was attacking the lock in preparation for getting to us. He’d barge in, come directly over to us, make his presence known in an aggressive way, to assert his domination. I was so lost in the fear of what was about to happen that, when the door opened silently, I had my eyes closed.

“Oli.”

He whispered my name, and I turned.

My pulse jumped, and I nearly did, too.

Matt was standing there, barely inside the room, his back to the door. Tall and lanky with that familiar brown hair falling into his blue eyes. His smile wasn’t there. That gap-toothed smile that always gave me butterflies was gone, replaced by a worried frown. He looked like himself, not like Fitch’s evil accomplice. He put his finger to his lips, in a shushing way, telling me to not make a sound.

There was so much I wanted to say, wanted to shout. My thoughts raced with words of blame and hurt, with one big scream of despair. I wanted to run at him with my fists, hit him as hard as I could, attack him for whatever part he had played in my sister’s murder, in our imprisonment, in tricking me into loving him.

But his eyes stopped me. They held a combination of sadness, intensity, and acute warning. There was urgency in his gaze that made me stay totally quiet, stand right where I was. To pay attention to whatever he was trying to tell me.

Without a word, he pointed overhead, at the snowy owl and the American kestrel—the birds that held the cameras. Because the lenses were directed toward the center of the attic, where the bed and mattresses were located, Matt was out of the cameras’ lines of sight.

If Fitch was monitoring the attic, he wouldn’t be able to see Matt.

I knew I should be afraid. Fitch must have sent Matt. But my old feelings were sweeping in, like the tide flowing in from the sea and rising on the beach.

I tried to fight those emotions, to tell myself to stay strong and keep my heart hard, but again: The expression in Matt’s eyes was telling me something else. His gaze was so focused on me, as if he couldn’t get enough of seeing me, that I felt a rush of hope.

He beckoned me toward the door.

I shook my head. There was no way I would follow him.

He held out one hand.

His blue eyes had a spark that reminded me of the time we’d gone crabbing in the marsh, when we had to cross a cracked and weathered plank over a muddy creek.

He was doing the same thing here in the attic—reaching out for me to take his hand, to steady me as I balanced my way across. At the creek, I’d been the first to cross. I had turned, reached out for him, pulled him to the opposite bank.

That memory shook me up. Here I was, in the attic, facing this boy I had known forever. He held his hand out. He was either going to trick me, take me to Fitch and whatever nightmare he had in store, or it would be something else.

It was something else.

I stood in front of Matt, so close the toes of our shoes were touching. I took his hand.

We stared into each other’s eyes.

So much bad stuff had happened. It had scared me, made me doubt everything. I felt my whole body ready to burst with pent-up suspicion and anger.

“Were you part of it?” I whispered.

He shook his head. “I had to make him believe I was,” he said. “It killed me that you believed it, too.”

He put his arms around me.

I was shaking.

He pulled me against his chest.

I could feel his heart pounding, or maybe that was mine.

I realized I was holding my breath, but I couldn’t help it.

When I let it out, I felt it escape my body, along with the biggest shiver ever.

“Are you okay?” Matt whispered.

“No,” I said, not in a whisper.

“We’re going to get through this. We are. We’ll do it together.”

Together , he said.

“But you’re with him ,” I said.

“You don’t believe that,” he whispered. “You know I’m not.”

“I saw you with him. On the waterfront.” I shoved him away. “When you pulled up outside Minerva’s store, he tried to take us—and you just sat there! You didn’t do anything, try to stop him!”

“I didn’t know what he was doing!” Matt said. “I feel like an idiot—I didn’t even see what he was doing. I was trying to get a song from my phone on the Bluetooth for when you got into the Jeep.”

“A song?”

“Yes,” he said. “?‘Lost in the 16th’ by Margot Fran?ois.”

The song we’d listened to once. The song about change, the feeling about love.

He squeezed my hand, and after just a few seconds, I squeezed back.

“Oli, you’re still wearing my bracelet,” he said, one finger touching the woven rope around my wrist, then lightly tracing my skin, his voice so low I could barely hear. “You wouldn’t be wearing it if you didn’t know, deep down, that I’m with you. That all I care about is you, getting you out.”

I glanced down at the bracelet, and his words, spoken in his gentle, familiar voice, ran through me, and I knew he was right.

He held me even closer. We were pressed against each other, his mouth against my ear so no one else could hear him when he spoke.

“We’re going to escape, but we have to move fast,” he said.

“With Hayley and Abigail,” I said.

“Of course,” he said.

“We’ve lost Iris,” I whispered with a ripple of grief.

“No, we haven’t. Iris is fine. I’ll explain in a minute. But for now, we’ve got to make a plan to get out.”

“How?” I asked.

“Through the window on the left. The one with the fire escape.”

“It’s hurricane glass, but there’s a tiny crack,” I said.

“It’ll shatter,” he said. “But the timing is what counts. We have to do it fast. Fitch doesn’t know I’m up here, but he’ll figure it out eventually. He thinks I’m getting something out of the van.”

“For what?”

He paused. “For some new type of test he’s planning for all of you.”

That was a punch in my gut. “Why would he tell you that?” I asked. “If you’re not part of it?”

“You’re going to have to trust me on this,” Matt said.

“But how did he even let you in on the fact that he had us up here?” I asked, stubborn and needing to know.

“Minerva helped convince him.”

“Minerva?” I asked.

Matt nodded. “You know I was looking everywhere for you at first—with Fitch. At that point, he seemed to be on our side, genuinely wanting to help Iris. I had no idea what his real goal was. You mentioned when we saw you outside Mermaid’s Pearls?”

“Yes, when Fitch tried to grab Iris.”

“Well, I didn’t see that. All I saw was you and Iris running away—I had no idea why. We drove all around, trying to find you. When we didn’t, Fitch said he had to get back here to the Miramar. He didn’t tell me why, but it seemed important. I dropped him off and was on my way back to the waterfront to look for you when I saw Fitch’s cousin parked outside the library.”

“Minerva.”

“Yes. We’d met once before, at Fitch’s house. This time, she seemed scared of me, and I didn’t know why. Eventually we figured out what was going on, and she knew I was frantic to find you—for good reasons, not Fitch’s. Minerva said she’d dropped you off here. And we began to put it all together. She can’t stand her cousin, Oli. She told me Fitch is sick. Maybe so, but he’s also evil.”

“He is,” I said.

“So Minerva and I came up with a plan. We came back here, separately, and she stayed hidden,” Matt said. “I found Fitch standing outside his van, in the parking lot. I started to talk to him—I told him what Minerva had said. But I put it in a different way from what she meant, so he would think I admired him. So he would trust me.”

“Admire him for what?”

“Trying to cure his sister, even if it meant kidnapping girls. I played on his ego, on all his science stuff, told him that I believed he was doing important work. And that I really wanted to help him. He likes flattery. It made him susceptible, and he believed me.”

“And then what happened?” I asked.

“I messed up, Oli. My timing was off by just a couple minutes. I left Fitch in the parking lot, and I saw you and Iris on the porch, talking to an old lady. I didn’t speak out loud, because I knew Fitch was nearby, and I didn’t want him to hear. I just wanted to get you both out of there without him trying to stop me.”

I thought back to how it had been, how Daphne said a boy had beckoned to Iris.

“I gestured for you both to come inside,” Matt said. “I was going to take you out the back way so we could escape. But only Iris saw. I rushed her into a vacant room, to hide her, and by the time I returned to get you, you were gone.”

“Fitch got to me first,” I said.

“Oli, that was the worst moment of my life,” Matt said. “Knowing he had you.”

His expression was intense, and in that instant, all doubt slipped away: I knew with everything I had that Matt had gone along with Fitch so he could save me—save us.

“It killed me to fake being on his side,” he went on. “I would have bypassed him completely, but Minerva told me this place was a maze. I didn’t know if Fitch had you tied up, locked in somewhere. I couldn’t take that chance—I needed him to show me where you were.”

I stared into Matt’s eyes and saw anguish; I could see what it had cost him to play along with Fitch—a boy he had thought was his friend.

“He could be coming back at any minute,” I said.

“We have a slight reprieve,” Matt said. “I left him outside on the porch, talking to that old lady. His great-aunt or something. She was telling him a story about their ancestors, how the good ones prevailed.”

“Daphne,” I said, looking over at her painting on the panel. “She’s one of the Sibylline sisters.”

“I had the strangest feeling,” Matt said, “that she knew what was going on. That she knew I was here to help you, and she was keeping him occupied till I could get you and the others out.”

“She’s a sibyl,” I said. “She doesn’t know the details of what Fitch has been doing, but I think she has a sense that he’s bad. She can see things the rest of us can’t.”

“Well, let’s hope she senses that we need some time,” Matt said. “Oli, we have to get those cameras right away.”

“They’re up so high,” I said, studying the ceiling.

“I know,” Matt said. He explained how Fitch had told him he’d hidden the cameras in the two raptors—owl and kestrel. How Fitch thought it was funny, so ironic, that people thought of him as a birder, someone who cared about birds.

“Once we knock the cameras out,” Matt explained, “Fitch will hear an alarm, even if he’s still on the porch.”

“How long will that give us?” I asked.

“About two minutes to break the window and climb out,” he said.

I figured that would give us another minute to head down the fire escape and hit the street running.

“How are we going to do all that in such a short time?” I asked.

“You and I are going to take out the cameras,” he said.

“Okay. I’ll tell Hayley and Abigail what’s going on, and that they have to be ready to move as soon as we give the signal,” I said.

“Walk to them slowly—he has a camera app on his phone, not just a monitor inside, so assume you’re being watched. Don’t act like it’s urgent,” he said.

“Right,” I said. “We don’t want Fitch thinking we have anything like a plan.”

He held on tight; letting go of each other was incredibly hard, but I knew time was ticking away, so I forced myself to do it. I strolled over to Hayley and Abigail. Abigail was lying down again, Hayley leaning against the bedpost. Abigail’s eyes were closed, but Hayley had seen me and Matt talking, and she looked scared to death.

“What does he want?” Hayley asked.

“He’s on our side,” I said. “But speak quietly so Fitch doesn’t hear. We have to do this quickly?.?.?.”

“Do what?” Hayley asked.

“Matt and I are going to take down the cameras, and then we’ll break the window. We’ll climb out onto the fire escape and get down to the street.”

“Okay,” Hayley said, her eyes brighter than they’d been since I’d met her. She looked excited. Having a mission will do that—I felt it myself. Then she glanced down at Abigail, who seemed to have fallen asleep again.

“This has been a lot for her,” Hayley said. “Confronting Fitch really got to her. I don’t think she can handle all this.”

“She has to,” I said. “Wake her up.”

“Okay,” Hayley said.

Matt had edged his way around the attic’s perimeter so that he was standing just out of sight of the snowy owl. I meandered over to him. I had no clue about how we were going to get up to the ceiling to get to the surveillance equipment.

“How are we doing this?” I asked.

“Get on my shoulders,” Matt said, pulling his Swiss Army knife from his back pocket. He handed it to me. “Then reach up and cut the ropes that attach the birds to the rafters.”

I followed his thinking: When the first bird fell, it would yank out of the plug. “Once you hit one, I’ll move fast to the second, and we’ll do the same thing,” he said.

Matt knelt down, and I straddled his shoulders. While he stood up, I held the knife and looked overhead. I reached up my arms as high as they would go, but I wasn’t close enough.

“It’s too high,” I whispered. “But hold on. I’m going to try to stand.”

I stuck the knife in my waistband. Matt reached up so I could brace myself against his hands. Using that grip as leverage, I pushed myself up until I was standing. It took teamwork and balance. I could feel the tension in his arms as Matt held them steady. I wobbled, positive I was about to tumble, but then I felt someone pulling me straight up. I felt the softest grip, and I knew it was Eloise.

My sister helped me, I swear she did. I could hear her voice as if she was hovering just above me: You can do it, Oli. You’ve got this.

And I did. Eloise, Matt, and I were doing this together. I rose up, one foot on each of his shoulders, Eloise supporting me on this ladder to the sky, and I grabbed on to the owl’s feathery body. I sliced the cord, and as the owl fell to the floor, so did I. I knew I had Eloise to spot me, so I hit the floor standing, just like a gymnast sticking the landing.

Matt removed the camera from beneath the owl and clicked off the volume control. Then he, I, and Eloise repeated the process with the kestrel.

“Now!” Matt called softly to Abigail and Hayley. “The window!”

But they didn’t move. Hayley was crouched beside Abigail, with Hayley shaking her shoulders.

“Wake up!” Hayley said. “C’mon, Abigail! Now!” She turned to me, panic in her eyes. “She’s having an episode!”

I ran over, and I saw that Abigail had gone rigid, just as she had before. Her eyes were rolled back into her head, and she wasn’t breathing. The color in her face had drained out, and she was turning gray. Hayley kept shaking her, but she didn’t move.

At the same time, I heard the thud of Matt hitting the window, smashing it with a chair, then the crash of glass falling. A whoosh of fresh salt air filled the attic.

“Hurry!” Matt shouted.

“Yes, come on!” Iris yelled. She was standing outside on the fire escape, waving madly.

Iris! I understood then: Matt had hidden her in that empty room, but once she found out that he and Minerva had a plan, and that he was on our side, she joined forces with them to rescue us.

“Abigail’s having a seizure!” I said. “We can’t leave her!”

“If we don’t get out now,” Matt said, grabbing my shoulders, “we won’t be able to help her at all.”

Iris jumped in through the broken window, ran to us. Hayley screamed out with shocked joy. “You’re here!”

“We’ll have the best reunion in the world once we’re down on the street,” Iris told her sister after one incredibly tight hug. “Now, get out—I came up the fire escape to make sure it’s safe, but it’s only hanging by one bracket per floor, and they’re rusty. Be careful, okay? One at a time.”

“I can’t leave Abigail,” Hayley said.

“Hayley, this is it. I’m your big sister, you’re going to do what I tell you. Move now . I’m not letting you stay here for one more minute,” Iris said.

Hayley nodded, glanced once at Abigail. Iris pulled her away, and the Bigelow sisters clung to each other. Iris saw Hayley safely onto the top rung, waited for her to descend a few steps, then stepped out behind her.

I stood by Abigail, looked at Matt.

“We have to carry her,” I said. “I don’t know what Fitch will do to her if we don’t.”

Matt didn’t ask questions. He just reached down and grabbed hold of Abigail. He tried to put her over his shoulder, in a fireman’s carry like we’d learned in lifesaving, but her body was too stiff from the parasomnia. He lowered her onto the mattress.

Neither of us wanted to climb out that window without her, but for now, she was beyond help. I felt a sob rise up in my throat.

“I can’t leave her with a murderer,” I said. I thought of what Fitch had done to my sister. I didn’t care that he had claimed he didn’t mean to kill her—the fact was, he had.

“Fitch’s focused on you at the moment—not Abigail. In spite of everything, she is his sister. But if he hurts you, I couldn’t?.?.?.” Matt sounded too upset to finish. When he saw that I wasn’t moving toward the window, he took a deep breath.

“We can do this,” I said, looking into his eyes. He nodded.

I lifted Abigail’s feet, and Matt slipped his arms under hers from behind. She was still rigid as we carried her to the window. But whether it was the blast of cool air or some inner determination, Abigail came to—without any help from Fitch or his medication. Her eyes looked cloudy, and I didn’t think she could make it down the fire escape on her own—Matt obviously thought that, too. Once again, he hoisted her over his shoulder.

Matt went ahead with Abigail, and I followed them. As we made our way down the fire escape, I realized I was holding my breath. My heart was back there in the attic. I was grateful we were getting away, but not all of us. Not Eloise. The one sister who couldn’t escape.

I was still thinking of her when my feet hit the ground. I saw Matt’s Jeep right there, with Minerva behind the wheel. Iris and Hayley helped Abigail into the back seat, right between them. Matt grabbed my hand and pulled me onto his lap in the front. Minerva glanced at me.

“You made it,” she said.

I nodded. “Thanks for being our getaway driver.”

She smiled and gave a little salute. “Sorry not to make it back sooner. Daphne’s memory about where she sent the map was a little rusty. But I’m here now.”

She had been parked at the back entrance, and she pulled around to the front. I gazed at the porch. Fitch wasn’t there. I realized he must be running up to the attic—I loved imagining what he’d think when he found us gone.

But Daphne was still in her rocking chair. In her white dress, she reminded me of the girls on the panels, the Sibylline sisters—because she was one of them. She saw me through the window of the Jeep, and, just for a second, our eyes met.

She touched her heart and nodded.

And I nodded back. She was the only surviving Sibylline sister, and I felt that her magic, her sisterly love, had helped all of us to escape today.

“We have to call the police,” I said to Matt.

“I already have,” Minerva said, holding up her cell phone. “The minute I saw you all coming down the fire escape.”

And she had: I heard sirens. They got louder, and a moment later I saw the flashing strobe lights as three squad cars and a black sedan pulled up in front of the Miramar.

It was okay for the police to be called now. Iris and Hayley were together and safe, and Fitch’s threats meant nothing anymore. Detective Tyrone climbed out of the black car. She came straight over to me, concern in her eyes.

“Oli, are you all right? What’s going on?” she asked.

“We got him,” I said, and forgot the fact I never cried in front of anyone. My voice broke, and tears spilled from my eyes.

“What are you talking about?” Detective Tyrone asked.

“We know who did it. We know who killed Eloise, Detective Tyrone. It’s Fitch Martin. He’s in there right now,” I said, pointing at the hotel.

“He took all of them,” Minerva said.

“All of them?” Detective Tyrone asked, staring at me.

“Yes,” I said. “My sister. Iris and Hayley. And me. But we got away—all of us except Eloise.”

Detective Tyrone took a step toward me. She hesitated, then put her arms around me. As I leaned my head against her shoulder and saw all those officers running toward the hotel door, I felt as if it was finally over. We had finally gotten him.

But it turned out I was wrong about that.