"The truth of it is that I can't enter the realms," I say, looking off toward the woods."I tried."
Felicity steps away from me."Without us?"
"Just once," I say, avoiding her eyes. "But I couldn't make the door of light appear."
"What a pity," Felicity says. Her tone whispers, I don't believe you,
"Yes, so you see, we shall have to find the other members of the Order before we can return to the realms. I'm afraid there doesn't seem to be any other way."
It's a lie. For all I know I could enter the realms again at any time. But not yet. Not until I've had time to understand this strange power I've been given, this gift-curse. Not until I've had time to learn to master the magic, as my mother warned me I must. The consequences are too grave. It's enough that I will live with Pippa's death on my conscience for the rest of my days. I won't make the same mistake twice. For now, it's best that my friends believe I have no power left. For now, it's best that I lie to them. At least, that is what I tell myself.
In the distance, the church bell tolls, announcing that it is time for vespers.
"We'll be late," Felicity says, walking toward the chapel. Her tone has turned cold as the wind. Ann follows dutifully, which leaves me to roll the heavy stone back in place over the altar.
"Thank you for your help," I mumble, straining against the rock. I catch sight of the parchment again. Strange. I don't remember any of us putting it there, now that I think of it. It wasn't there last week. And no one else knows of this place. I take the torn paper from under the rock and unfold it.
I need to see you immediately.
There is a signature, but I don't need to read it. I recognize the handwriting.
It belongs to Kartik.
CHAPTER THREE
KARTIK IS HERE, SOMEWHERE, WATCHING ME AGAIN.
This is the thought that consumes me during vespers. He is here and needs to speak to me. Immediately, his note said. Why? What is so urgent? My stomach is a tight fist of fear and excitement. Kartik is back.
"Gemma,''Ann whispers."Your prayer book."
I've been so absorbed that I've forgotten to open my prayer book and pretend to follow along. From her position in the front pew, Mrs. Nightwing turns to glare at me as only she can. I read a bit more loudly than is necessary so as to seem enthusiastic. Our headmistress, satisfied at my piety, faces forward again, and soon I am lost in new, troubled thoughts. What if the Rakshana have finally sent for me? What if Kartik is here to take me to them?
A shudder travels the length of my spine. I shan't let him do that. He shall have to come for me, and I won't go down without a solid fight. Kartik, Who does he think he is? Kartik. Perhaps he'll try to take me unawares? Sneak up behind me and wrap his strong arms about my waist? A struggle would ensue, of course. I would fight him, though he is quite strong, as I recall. Kartik, Perhaps we would fall to the ground, and he would pin me with the weight of his body, his arms holding mine down, his legs atop mine. I'd be his prisoner then, unable to move, his face so very near my own that I could smell the sweetness of his breath and feel its heat on my lips. . . .
"Gemma!" Felicity whispers sharply from my right side.
Flushed and flustered, I snap to attention and read aloud the first line of the Bible that I see. Too late I realize that mine is the only voice in the silence. My outburst startles everyone, as if I have had a sudden religious conversion. The girls giggle in astonishment. My cheeks grow hot. Reverend Waite narrows his eyes at me. I daren't look at Mrs. Nightwing for fear that her withering glare will reduce me to ash. Instead, I do as the others and bow my head for prayer. In seconds, Reverend Waite's reedy voice drifts over our heads, nearly putting me to sleep. "What ever were you thinking about?" Felicity whispers. "Your expression was very strange."
"I was lost in prayer," I answer guiltily.
She attempts to say something to this, but I lean forward, my gaze intent on Reverend Waite, and she cannot reach me without invoking the ire of Mrs. Nightwing.
Kartik. I have missed him, I find. Yet I know that if he is here, the news cannot be good.
The prayer has ended. Reverend Waite gives a benediction to us, his flock, and turns us out into the world. Dusk has rolled in, quiet as a ghost ship, and with it has come the familiar fog. In the distance, the lights of Spence beckon. An owl hoots. Strange. There haven't been many owls about lately. But there it is again. It's coming from the trees to my right. Through the fog, I can see something glowing. A lantern rests at the base of a tree.
