We stood in silent rows in the dining hall and waited for Miss Raglan, the Deputy High Mistress, to speak. Harriet Templeton and Julia Symons were standing next to her. They both looked upset.

“We have some bad news, girls,” said Miss Raglan. “This afternoon, while you were enjoying your recreation time, one person has shown no regard for the comfort or happiness of our community.” Her words were somber, but she seemed agitated, excited even. “There has been a series of thefts. These two girls have lost something valuable this afternoon, items of jewelry that were in their dormitories. While this is very distressing, I must remind you that jewelry is not allowed, and all items of value should be handed in to the staff at the beginning of term. In that way we can avoid these unpleasant incidents.”

She paused and looked around. Did I imagine that her gaze lingered on me for a moment? I felt my newly acquired locket burn against my skin under my sweater, but I stared back at her unblinkingly. I wasn’t going to give up this memento of Effie so easily. As for the Talisman, it lay in its bed of cold clay, and Miss Raglan would never find it.

“The staff is searching the dormitories at this moment for the missing articles, and any other valuables found there will be taken for safekeeping. Any girl who is still wearing an item of jewelry must hand it in now and nothing further will be said. However, any girl who continues to flout this rule will face the consequences.”

There was a pause; then a few girls fumbled to unfasten the chains that they had been wearing under their shirts. Miss Scratton walked down the rows with a basket and, one by one, the necklaces were dropped into it. She passed me by without a glance.

“I need hardly say that any girl who has any information about this incident must come to see me afterward,” Miss Raglan announced. “The missing items are a Tiffany diamond pendant and a small silver heart on a chain.”

“That was mine,” Harriet burst out. “My mother gave it to me. It’s mine and I want it back.”

A few girls sniggered at her red face and blinking eyes, but not many. If there was one thing the Wyldcliffe students understood it was the importance of possessions.

“And I am sure we will soon get it back,” said Miss Raglan smoothly. “We cannot tolerate thieves at Wyldcliffe.”

Miss Raglan dismissed us. Harriet burst into tears and dashed out. The students broke into little groups, gossiping over the latest drama.

“I felt sorry for Julia, but I don’t know why anyone would bother to steal that piece of junk from that Harriet kid,” India sneered as she linked arms with Celeste. “It’s not as if it were really valuable. My God, a tacky little heart on a cheap chain. Harriet probably got it out of a packet of cornflakes.”

She and Celeste laughed their cruel, braying laughs.

“You don’t know what’s valuable to other people,” Sarah retorted. “Not everything beautiful comes with a big price tag.”

“Yeah,” I added, sick of India and her snobby friends. “Harriet was fond of the necklace because her mom gave it to her. Isn’t that enough for you?”

India looked furious, but she twisted her mouth into an insincere smile. “Like you’d recognize what’s beautiful or valuable, Johnson. I don’t suppose you’re hiding a precious jewel in your locker, are you? Have you got any family heirlooms tucked away with your spare socks?” Her words were mocking, but I felt flustered.

“Of course not…”

“Come on, Indy, don’t waste any more time on these losers,” said Celeste. “I want to make sure that Josh has groomed Sapphire properly.” She dragged India away.

“We’d better go too,” said Helen. “Let’s go and see if Harriet is okay.”

We walked down the corridor toward the marble steps. Sarah lowered her voice. “This can’t be a coincidence, all this stuff about handing in jewelry. I wonder if it was some kind of setup. I’m sure Raglan is onto something. She must be searching for the—” She broke off and glanced around cautiously.

“Well, at least it’s safe now,” I said. “And we’ve got work to do tonight.”

“What, down in the grotto? But we can’t; the coven was trampling all over it last night.”

“No, not there,” I whispered. “Meet me on the servants’ stairs at midnight.”

Midnight. It couldn’t come quickly enough. There was something I had remembered, something that I desperately wanted to do.

We carefully shut the door to the corridor behind us and stood on the landing of the servants’ staircase.

I pointed the flashlight at the broken panel that I had noticed earlier. Sarah and Helen glanced at each other in surprise at my discovery, then helped me pull away the rest of the rotten wood. We worked as quietly as we could, and soon we had made a gaping black hole, big enough for us to climb through to the hidden steps to the attic. The stairs were narrow, and the air smelled of mold and damp. I hesitated for a moment, but Sarah gently butted me from behind, so I led the way, clutching my flashlight and ducking to avoid the trailing cobwebs.

We climbed the crumbling steps and emerged onto a wide area, like a wooden platform. At one end, a tower-like gable contained a grimy window that let in a smudge of moonlight. In the other direction, rather than one big attic, as I had expected, a tangle of deserted rooms seemed to sprawl under the very eaves of the house, spreading farther than we could tell. Dust lay thick as a carpet on the bare floor, and there was a profound silence. It almost seemed wrong to break the spell of the place. Once, the Victorian maids—young girls like us—had slept up here after their work in the big house was done. They had worked and dreamed and had secrets, and now there was no trace of them left behind.

I tried the handle of the nearest door and opened it. A small room was crammed with old trunks and battered suitcases, perhaps abandoned over the years by long-gone Wyldcliffe students. There was no room for us to work there, so we crept farther on and tried another door. It was locked.

“I hope they’re not all locked like this,” I said impatiently, rattling the handle. Then I noticed something. There was no keyhole, and yet the door was firmly shut.

“Perhaps it’s stuck with age,” suggested Helen.

I tried to push the door open, leaning my shoulder heavily against it, but I couldn’t. “It’s bolted,” I said. “From the inside.”

“Let me see,” said Sarah. She laid her hands on the door and felt all over it, quiet and intent, as though she were listening to the wood that had once grown from the earth as a young tree. “There are two metal bolts on the inside. And something else—a peculiar vibration, something I can’t quite make out.”

“But how can it be locked from the inside?” I puzzled. “And why?”

“To keep everyone out, of course,” Helen said. “I’m going to get in there and have a look.”

“Are you sure, Helen?”

“Of course. And if it’s only full of old suitcases or mattresses you can laugh at me afterward.”

“Be careful.” I squeezed her hand quickly as she gathered her thoughts and powers. The next moment she had veiled herself in the familiar swirl of air and had vanished through the ether to the other side of the door.

Silence.

“Helen?” I called. There was still no answer. Sarah tapped more urgently on the door. Then we heard a muffled scraping of metal bolts and the door was flung open by Helen, looking triumphant.

We saw a tiny room, its walls sloping under the roof. It was draped with faded purple silk, like a tent, and on the floor was a rich Persian carpet. A carved wooden desk stood in the middle of the room, and the shelves behind it were crowded with thick glass bottles of what seemed to be dried herbs and plants. They had faded labels: Mallow, Hyssop, and Rue.

“But that’s Agnes’s handwriting.” I gasped.

“This must have been her secret study before she ran away to London,” said Sarah excitedly. “Where she came to do experiments and study the Mystic Way.”

“She must have sealed it with her powers,” added Helen, “so that no one could get in.”

“No one except us,” I said in wonder.

Under the shelves, great earthenware jars stood in a row. “There’s oil here,” said Sarah. “And water and sand, and all sorts of other things. And bundles of candles—all different colors—white and purple and green and red.”

“It’s perfect!”

“And look!” Helen had scuffed aside the moth-eaten carpet with her foot. Half-hidden by the rug, painted on the floor, there was an intricate silver circle, decorated with stars and moons and flowers and elaborate symbols. The whole room and everything in it seemed to be alive with endless possibilities.

“This is a sign,” I said, looking around in amazement. “Agnes wants us to come here to learn more, like she did. We can start straightaway. There’s something I’m longing to try.”

“What is it?” asked Helen.

“Don’t you remember how Agnes described in her journal that she conjured a flame when she was in London, and it showed her an image of Sebastian far away in Wyldcliffe? Why shouldn’t I be able to channel my water powers to do something similar and see Sebastian now, wherever he is? It might give us a clue as to where he’s hiding, and what’s happening to him.”

“Okay, let’s try it,” Sarah replied. “What do you need?”

We looked through the array of equipment that was crammed into the little room and found a shallow bronze bowl. I filled it with water from the jars under the shelves and placed it in the middle of the circle. Helen lit some candles and began the chanting. I sat cross-legged by the bowl, lightly resting my fingertips on the surface of the water. Then I closed my eyes and allowed myself to drift on the sound of Helen’s voice, letting my mind wander wherever it wanted to go. Memories started to rise up behind my eyes.

I was sitting with Sebastian by the edge of the lake, watching the reflection of the moon as it wavered on the surface of the water. The water of life…the blood of our veins… My mind drifted back further. I know what I want to do…. I want to swim with you, girl from the sea….

We were side by side, swimming in the lake; then I was panicking, being pulled under. I was drowning…falling into the deep black waters of memory. Sebastian! I called in my mind. Where are you? Tell me where you are!

I opened my eyes with a start and found myself crouching over the bowl, still holding on to the rim. As I peered at my reflection in the water it changed, and the next moment it was Sebastian’s face that I saw on the glassy surface. He was lying down, so pale and still that for a moment I was terrified that he was dead. No, that’s not right, I thought. He can’t die; he never died….

Sebastian opened his eyes. I saw him heave himself onto his elbow and pass his hand across his face. He had a litter of papers and letters next to him, which he suddenly swept to one side. Then he got unsteadily to his feet and began to walk away, as though every step hurt. He staggered on farther and the image began to fade. He was leaving me.

“Don’t go, don’t go!”

I hurled the bowl to the other side of the room and burst into tears. Sarah held me quietly, like a mother soothing a child, as I cried and cried and couldn’t stop.

Afterward, I was ashamed. Nothing would be achieved by tears. Action and strength and knowledge were needed, not weak emotions. At least I had seen Sebastian, I told myself. He hadn’t passed from my sight yet, though I still didn’t know where he was hiding. I had to work faster and harder. I had to be more focused. There was no more time for weeping.

I would have to throw myself with even greater determination into our experiments. I promised myself that I would sneak up the hidden stairs every night to work in Agnes’s secret room, pushing myself further and further to unlock the mysteries that would set Sebastian free and bring him back to me at last.