Silence.

They had gone.

Slowly, I pushed the door open and climbed out of my hiding place. My legs were shaking and my mouth was dry. Now I knew the truth at last. I had long suspected that Miss Raglan and Miss Dalrymple were my enemies, but Miss Scratton—upright, grave, and just—how could she be part of their twisted world? I felt sick with disgust, but I had to face it. Miss Scratton was a Dark Sister who had vowed to spy on me. The last shred of any faith I had in the school that was supposed to be my home had been utterly annihilated.

There was a fire burning in me, and it was fueled by hatred. Yes, I hated those women who were supposed to teach us and care for us but who regarded us as no more than pawns in their insane game. I wanted to lash out and destroy everything that was around me, to smash their bookcases and their pictures and their school. I would go to the police, I thought; I would tell them everything I had seen and heard, how Mrs. Hartle had killed Laura by draining her life force from her to prolong Sebastian’s existence, and how they were planning to do the same to me.

Even as the thoughts formed themselves in my mind I knew it was hopeless. Nobody would listen. Nobody would believe it.

That wasn’t the way, I told myself. I had to stay calm. I had to make my plans before the new moon hung in the sky like a branch of white fire. Everything was leading to that moment. Think, Evie, think….

I crept over to the fancy fireplace and felt carefully amid its marble leaves and carved fruit, found the secret place, and pressed hard. The narrow chamber swung open. I reached inside for the Book. But first my hand touched something else: something cold and steely. The silver dagger. Mrs. Hartle had dropped it as we battled in the crypt and her sisters must have brought it back here for safekeeping. After a moment’s hesitation I stuffed it in my pocket. Then I picked up the Book, and as I touched it a voice seemed to sound in my mind, chanting an old rhyme:

I knew I should get out of there and go back to the dorm as soon as I could, but I was desperate to open the Book and devour its secrets. I placed it carefully on the table. The green leather cover was exactly as Agnes had described, with the words The Mysticke Way gleaming faint and silver in the moonlight. How many people had held this ancient object in their hands? How many of them had been led into despair by its words? The Mysticke Way is a path of Healing, I repeated to myself. I seek Healing for Sebastian…for Wyldcliffe…for all of us….

I began to flick through the pages at random. They were dry and musty and the lettering was difficult to read. Some of the pages were decorated with red and green inks, just like the page that Agnes had left me, and some were written in Latin and Greek and other languages that I didn’t recognize. I was in too much of a hurry to take in what I was looking at, and the Book seemed to have a mind of its own. Some of the pages were stuck together and wouldn’t open, and sometimes they flipped open as though blown by an invisible wind. I caught glimpses of many obscure spells and charms: For Finding a True Friend; To Foretell the Weather; To Charm Poison from a Toad; For Making Rain; To Cure Rheumatics; The Gift of Sight; The Gift of Death…

The Gift of Death. The bold black letters seemed to stare up at me and pierce my mind. The rest of the page was decorated with some kind of woodcut, showing a grim figure of Death and a bright angel, side by side. The Gift of Death. For some reason I wanted to know more. I tried to turn the page to read the details of the spell, but the pages wouldn’t open. This part of the Book had been sealed against me.

The church bell sounded in the distance, its thin peal clear and sharp in the winter night. Midnight. In a few seconds it would be a new day. A wind stirred through the room, and the pages of the Book flapped in the breeze, then fell still, opening at a new place. I looked down. The letters on the page were shaped like tongues of red flame.

To Summon the Secret Fire.

The church bell struck one last time. The secret fire, the sacred flame, the source of light and power—Agnes had served it faithfully. And when she wanted to seal her powers inside the Talisman she had summoned the flame and thrust the silver trinket into its fiery heart. I remembered the words from her journal. My life force seemed to be dragged out of me and into the silver jewel…. My powers are sealed in its silvery heart….

It was all so clear, so simple now. I knew what I had to do. If I could summon that fire myself, I would be able to put the Talisman back into the mystical flames and unseal it once again. And then Agnes’s powers would be mine and I would be armed with her strength as I fought to free Sebastian from his doom.

Hugging the Book to my heart, I whispered, “Thank you. Thank you, Agnes.”

I had found what I was looking for.