Rebel Angels (Gemma Doyle #2)

Rebel Angels (Gemma Doyle #2) Page 29

"That won't do at all," Pip says. "What shall I do for two whole weeks? I shall be so bored without you." Same old Pip.

"Felicity and I will see each other," I say."But Ann . . ." Ann looks as if she could cry.

"You shall simply have to come home with me," Felicity says. "I'll send a telegram to Mama first thing tomorrow morning and tell her to expect us. And I shall spend the evening thinking of a very good story as to why."

Ann's beaming."I should like that. The holiday and the story."

"Soon as we can--two days' time--we'll be back," I assure Pippa.

"I shall be waiting."

"See what you can discover on your own," I say. "Find the gorgon."

Pippa nods."Must you go so soon? I don't think I can bear to say goodbye."

"Two days' time," Felicity assures her.

She walks with us through the place where the runes once stood.

"Watch out," Felicity calls.

Where the toadstool split open, the grass has turned to ash. A wet black snake slithers back and forth.

"Ugh," Ann says, sidestepping it.

Pippa grabs a sharp rock and drops it on the thing.

"That is that," she says, rubbing the bit of rock chalk from her hands.

"How I loathe snakes," Felicity says with a shiver.

It's surprising that Felicity is unnerved by anything. But more surprising is this: Pippa is staring at the rock she dropped with a strange smile. I cannot name the expression she wears, but it unnerves me. With one last kiss, we make the door of light appear and are back in the great hall.

"Look!" Ann cries.

Around her neck, the ruby still shines and dazzles.

"You've brought the magic back with you," I say, touching the stone.

"I didn't try to," Ann says, as if she's in trouble for it. "It just happened."

"There's no seal on it," I say."I suppose that's it."

"Let me try," Felicity says. She closes her eyes, and in an instant she's floating high above us.

"Felicity! Come down!" I whisper urgently.

"Not on your life! Why don't you come up?"

With a squeal, Ann rises to meet Felicity. They clasp hands midair and twirl far above the floor like ghosts.

"Wait for me!" I say, rising to meet them. My arms outstretched, my legs dangling high above the tops of chairs and the fireplace mantel, I am filled with a giddy joy, the pleasure of weightlessness.

"How splendid," Ann says, giggling. She reaches down and repositions the angel ornament at the top of the tree so that it stands tall and straight." There."

"What are you about?" I ask Felicity, who has her eyes closed. She rubs her right palm over her left. When she pulls her hands apart, there is a dazzling diamond ring. She slips it on her third finger and holds it out for us to see.

"This is the most marvelous Christmas present ever," Felicity says, staring at her ring. "Think of the fun we shall have in London with the magic at our disposal."

"I don't think that's wise," I say. "We're to bind the magic. That is our purpose."

Felicity purses her lips. "I shan't do anything horrible with it." This is not an argument I wish to start now."Let's fly again," I say, changing the subject.

At long last, even Felicity is tired. We sneak off to our rooms, speaking with joy the name of the girl we've mourned for two months: Pippa. Perhaps tonight, I will sleep peacefully. No terrible dreams to leave me exhausted by morning.

It is only after an hour has passed and I am safe in my own bed that I can give a name to the look on Pippa's face as she stared at the thing she'd killed.

Hunger.

CHAPTER TWELVE

THE CARRIAGE HAS COME TO TAKE FELICITY AND Ann to the train station. In the grand marbled foyer, we say our goodbyes while the servants direct the coachmen to their trunks. Felicity looks cool and imperious in her mauve coat and fur muff. Ann is giddy and hopeful in some of Felicity's borrowed finery, a royal blue velvet capelet far too light for the weather that is secured by the brooch of grapes.

"Have you any magic left?" Felicity asks.

"No," I say."It's gone. You?"

"The same." Narrowing her eyes, she warns,"Don't you dare go back without us."

"For the hundredth time, I shan't." The coachman takes the last of their things."You'd best get on. Don't want to miss your train." It is difficult to talk with all the hustle and bustle. And I hate goodbyes.