The Secrets of Winterhouse Page 8

  “Summer’s here!” Miles cawed. “Summer’s here!”

  Elizabeth looked up. “You funny bird,” she said as Leona entered the office.

  “I am very sorry to have left you on your own for so long!”

  “I’ve just been reading.” She nodded to Marshall’s journal.

  “Dear Marshall’s ‘intriguing’ work,” Leona said. She looked behind her to make sure no one was at the counter. “I’ve never been one to pass judgment on the multitude of humanity that arrives at the doors of our humble hotel, but those Powters are among the most uncouth and ill-mannered individuals I have ever—” She stopped and put a hand to her cheek. “I suppose I’m passing judgment, aren’t I?”

  Elizabeth laughed. “It’s all right. I met them on the bus when I was coming here. The boy stole my seat and was extremely rude to me.”

  Leona pasted a look of mock surprise on her face. “Shocking! Why, that is just shocking to learn!” She and Elizabeth began to laugh.

  “But how do you deal with such mean people, Leona?” Elizabeth said.

  “I once heard something when I was young that has always stayed with me and that has helped me a great deal. Very simple guidance, but I have found it immensely valuable. It was, essentially, that in all dealings with others, we should try our best not to take offense and not to give offense.”

  Elizabeth had been expecting something more complicated; Leona’s words surprised her by their brevity.

  “I’ll think about that,” she said. She considered the upcoming afternoon with Elana and Freddy. “It sounds like good advice.” She ran a hand over Marshall’s journal. “Say, Leona, last year when I left, Norbridge gave me a book by a writer named Damien Crowley.”

  Leona’s eyes widened. “We have several of his novels in the literature section. He was a local, actually. Norbridge knew him and loved his books. Macabre stories. Very thrilling.”

  Elizabeth was about to ask more, but in the broad, open space of the library’s main floor, she saw Mr. and Mrs. Powter and Rodney walking slowly. All three were looking upward, scanning the walls. Mr. Powter said something to the others as he stopped and pointed. Rodney nodded and pointed to the wall in a different direction.

  “What is it, dear?” Leona said.

  “The Powters are out there looking around.” It was odd that the three of them were so absorbed in examining the walls rather than the stacks of books.

  “Strange birds!” Miles cawed. “Strange birds!”

  “Hush!” Leona said. She peered through the doorway and then began to examine some papers on her desk. “Probably a good idea to stay away from that bunch.”

  Although she couldn’t hear what the Powters were saying, Elizabeth continued to watch. Rodney said something to his mother, but the woman responded angrily; he spoke again, explaining something, while his mother grew more agitated. The woman raised her hand viciously above her head, and then she stopped herself and glanced around the library before lowering her arm. With a jerk of her head, she indicated that Rodney was to continue walking with her, and the three Powters moved out of Elizabeth’s sight. The look on Mrs. Powter’s face reminded Elizabeth of her aunt Purdy. Although she hadn’t considered, even two minutes before, that she might ever feel any degree of sympathy for Rodney Powter, at that moment Elizabeth understood just what he had felt. And she was sorry for him.

  “I think I’ll go look at the Damien Crowley books,” Elizabeth said to Leona, and she headed toward the office door. “I’ll be back in a few.”

  “Stay out of trouble,” Leona said, and Miles cawed, “Strange birds,” once more.

  * * *

  Elizabeth waited until the Powters were out of sight past a line of bookcases before ducking behind a nearby row. As she drew near, she heard Mr. Powter say, “Well, if the others couldn’t find it, how in the world will we?” and then Rodney said, “That’s exactly what I’ve been saying.”

  “We’ll just have to keep looking,” Mrs. Powter said sternly.

  What are they looking for? Elizabeth thought.

  “Why don’t I just come back later on my own?” Rodney said.

  “Look at this!” Mr. Powter said with excitement. “Perhaps it’s right back here?”

  Elizabeth continued to listen from where she hid behind her bookcase. Without making a sound, she craned her neck just slightly and spied the three Powters examining the wall between two bookcases. Mrs. Powter ran a hand over the wall and moved her face close to it.

  “Difficult to tell,” she said. She wheeled on Rodney. “Climb up on the shelves a bit and take a closer look.”

  Rodney swept the hair from in front of his eyes and stepped up to the bookcase. Elizabeth noticed, on a nearly empty space on a shelf just beside him, a stack of a dozen large books waiting to be reshelved. She stared at them and allowed her eyes to relax, focusing all her attention on the pile of books. The feeling welled up inside her; the books began to quiver. For a second Elizabeth recalled Norbridge’s warning to her about using her power and about the bad ends Gracella had come to by indulging it. But the Powters were clearly up to no good, and so she felt it would be okay—just this once—to go ahead with her plan to distract them. And that meant summoning the feeling.

  “Hurry up,” Mr. Powter said to Rodney, who had scaled the first row of shelves. “We don’t want to be here all day.”

  Elizabeth continued to stare at the books as they shook harder; suddenly, the books scooted to the edge of the shelf and then plummeted to the floor with a loud crash. The three Powters turned to look, and Rodney dropped to the floor on both feet as his mother let out a yelp. Leona came running from her office, and Elizabeth retreated behind another bookcase and disappeared.

  “What is going on here?” Leona called, and Rodney and his parents began talking at once. But Elizabeth didn’t wait to hear what was sure to be a round of excuses and lies; she didn’t want Leona to discover she’d been snooping, and she was too busy wondering just what the Powters were up to. Above all, she was trying to keep a disturbing thought from settling into her head: She’d enjoyed upsetting the Powters. Summoning the feeling to be used against them had made her feel powerful, and it had made her feel strong. And she liked the sensation.

  She resolved to put this notion out of her mind and go talk to Freddy about what she’d overheard.

  CHAPTER 13

  A TOUR OF THE CANDY KITCHEN FORTH

  After a lunch of tomato soup, a roll, and some cookies in Winter Hall, Elizabeth headed to the thirteenth floor to meet Freddy and Elana. She’d looked for Norbridge during the meal, but he was nowhere to be found, and she figured he must be very busy with hotel matters or he surely would have found time to visit with her by now.

  When she left the dining room, she found herself detouring away from the main lobby and up a rear flight of stairs until she came to a T in the corridor. She looked to her left down a poorly lit hallway and noticed the door that, although she hadn’t fully admitted it to herself, she knew she’d been seeking: Gracella’s room, locked and unoccupied for decades. On her final night at Winterhouse the year before, Elizabeth had stolen into this room with a key Freddy had lent her, though she’d fled in fright after only a couple of minutes. Now, as she stood examining the door, the feeling began to stir inside her, once again without her summoning it. A low buzzing sounded in her ears. She took a step toward the door.

  “Elizabeth?”

  She looked behind her. “Norbridge!” she said, flustered, when she saw him standing there. “I didn’t hear you.”

  He glanced at the door at the end of the hallway before speaking. “What are you doing here?” He looked very serious, almost angry.

  “I’m heading up to see Freddy, and I was just sort of taking the long way. He showed me the camera obscura, and we’re gonna go skating this afternoon with a girl here who…” Elizabeth realized she was babbling and had lost her focus. She looked back at Gracella’s door and then to Norbridge with a feeling of defeat; she felt
she’d been caught in a lie.

  “I know I shouldn’t come by here,” she said. “I just … something about last year…”

  “What is it? Please, tell me.”

  “How did Gracella come back?” Elizabeth said, surprised by her own bluntness. She had wondered about this for so many months, and now, standing before Gracella’s door and with Norbridge in front of her, she felt moved to speak her mind. “I thought she died a long time ago.”

  Norbridge put a hand to his forehead and pinched at the skin there, the way a person tries to soothe away a headache. “My sister developed a very disturbing … ability, and I may as well tell you candidly what it was. She perfected a method for keeping herself alive. It’s a very evil form of magic, and it entails…” He let his sentence trail off.

  “Killing people?”

  Norbridge nodded. “In so many words, yes—killing people. Somehow she is able to take the vitality from others and transfer it to herself.”

  “So if she’s done it before, couldn’t she do it again? I mean, what if she’s not really dead this time again, and what if the way Marcus Q. Hiems died was—”

  Norbridge held up a hand to silence her. “I know you’re interested in all of this, but I’m asking you to stop dwelling on it. And I also don’t want you to come to this room. Understood?”

  Norbridge had rarely spoken to her this directly; it took her aback. She wanted to protest and explain that she deserved to know the truth about things, particularly because she had been the one to save Winterhouse. And now Norbridge was telling her she had no business probing too deeply. There was more, too—just as with Aunt Purdy and Uncle Burlap, it was suddenly plain to her that there were rules here at Winterhouse she’d need to respect. There were restrictions.

  “I don’t fully understand,” she said, “but I won’t come by here if you don’t want me to.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I was just wondering—and I was thinking, too, what if there were other objects inside Winterhouse that she wanted to get? Things that could make her more powerful. I was talking to Leona, and she told me about the secret passageways inside the walls.”

  “There is a lot to learn about Winterhouse,” Norbridge said. “And now that you live here, we’ll have plenty of time to delve into it.” He pursed his lips. “You’re absolutely correct that there are legends about more magical objects, perhaps hidden about the hotel, and I’ve given all of it a lot of thought, and investigated quite a bit, to see what I can learn. The story about something maybe being inside the passageways—and there are passageways, though they’re not much to speak of—is an old one, but I’ve actually never found anything to validate it. Also, the doorways have been sealed for some time.”

  There was so much Elizabeth wanted to ask Norbridge—about his departure from Winterhouse that she’d read about in Marshall’s journal, about the death of her parents, about Riley Granger’s elaborate game, and about the passageways themselves—but what came out of her mouth surprised her: “What does the seal mean on the floor in front of Grace Hall?”

  “The Winterhouse seal? My father used to say it was a guide for … something indeterminate.” Norbridge looked suddenly amused by his own cluelessness, and he smiled.

  Elizabeth laughed. “Well, that’s not much to go on.”

  “Nestor was very intrigued by numerology, so my theory is there is some sort of message hidden in the numbers. But about what, I just don’t know. Supposedly, the numbers and words orient a person to something inside the hotel. I’ve been trying to uncover the secret for years.” He glanced at his watch. “If anyone’s going to figure it out after all this time, maybe it will be you. I need to run now, though. I’m hoping all is off to a good start for you. I’m afraid I’ve been so busy I haven’t had a chance to catch up. And now we have a group of tourists arriving from Tajikistan, and I promised them an outing to Bruma Pass for a snowball fight before they spend the evening in the saunas.”

  * * *

  “You’re here!” Elana called when Elizabeth entered the camera obscura room. She was on the platform beside the white disk, but when she saw Elizabeth she scurried down the walkway and came to her. “I’m so glad to see you!” She looked up at the platform where Freddy was working. “Mr. Rope Man is trying to arrange something.”

  “It’s a lot of math,” Freddy called down. “Angles and tension and torque.” He leaned over the side of the platform and waved. “Hey, Elizabeth! We were gonna come find you.”

  “Hi,” she called. She was surprised to find Elana here with Freddy already; she felt that she had come late and the two of them had become busy with work on the platform.

  “You guys been here awhile?”

  Elana tossed her head casually. “Just got here.”

  Freddy was walking down to them and wiping his hands on a towel. He pushed at his glasses and gave Elizabeth a thumbs-up. “How was the library?”

  “All good,” she said. “I’m going to start working there in the mornings. I’ll be helping Leona.”

  “Very cool!” Elana said. “Maybe I’ll come and pitch in, too!”

  Elizabeth was about to tell her it was less that she was “pitching in,” and more that she would be learning how to be a genuine librarian, when Freddy spoke.

  “I just needed to check a few things here,” he said. “But I’m ready to go skating.”

  Elana looked to them in a way that suggested she’d been hiding a secret and was now thrilled to be sharing it. “So, I found out there’s a tour of the candy kitchen at one thirty,” she said, “and I was thinking we should all go.”

  Elizabeth wanted to tell her she and Freddy had both been inside the candy kitchen so many times and eaten so much Flurschen, they could probably make it themselves.

  “We’ve been there a million times,” Freddy said.

  “It’s only a half-hour tour,” Elana said. “I’d really love to see what they do there.”

  Elana looked so excited, Elizabeth was hesitant to disappoint her. She thought, too, about what they had discussed the previous evening, how Elana had shared with her that she had also lost her parents.

  “If you want to see the kitchen,” Elizabeth said, “we can take a quick tour.”

  Elana looked to her with a sunny expression. “I’d love to.”

  “Let’s do it,” Freddy said. “We can get some Flurschen and then go skating.”

  * * *

  On the way to the candy kitchen, they passed one of the strangest rooms in the entire hotel. Like all of them, it had an ornately paneled cherrywood door and a shiny bronze door handle. But on the wall beside the door was affixed a small silver plaque on which was written the following words: THIS ROOM RESERVED AT ALL TIMES FOR EDWIN AND ORFAMAY THATCHER. PLEASE DO NOT ENTER.

  Elizabeth stopped and studied the plaque. “I almost forgot about this room.”

  “Who are they?” Elana gazed at the plaque. “Edwin and Orfamay Thatcher?”

  “They’re billionaires,” Freddy said. “They’re the ones who made all the Cattle Battle movies back in the nineties. So now they’re rich enough to come here anytime they want. I guess they like this room so much they actually pay Norbridge to keep it reserved for them.”

  Elizabeth studied the door. “Hard to believe,” she said. She thought of creating a new list: “Richest People I’ve Ever Met,” as she fully expected to meet the Thatchers someday soon.

  Elana eyed the door, looking delighted and puzzled both. “A room that’s totally empty.”

  “Most of the time,” Freddy said.

  Elana laughed. “Right. Most of the time.” She moved closer and then put her ear to the door while listening for a moment.

  Elizabeth was puzzled. She looked to Freddy, who lowered his brow at her in a way that said, What’s up with her?

  “Hear anything?” Elizabeth said. She’d expected Elana to say something, but the other girl looked like she was all alone and suddenly in a different world.

  Elana mov
ed her eyes to Elizabeth’s and tilted her head slightly in a gesture that said, Join me. Although Elizabeth was feeling increasingly odd about the whole thing, she placed an ear against the door and listened. After a few seconds, she backed away.

  “I don’t hear anything,” she said.

  Elana straightened up and looked at her with bright eyes. “Me neither,” she said. “Completely empty, I guess.”

  “You seem really interested in this room,” Freddy said to Elana, which was exactly what Elizabeth was thinking.

  Elana sighed. “It’s just, I don’t know, cool to think about a room sitting here all empty.” She shrugged. “Shall we get going?”

  * * *

  The candy kitchen was undoubtedly the most famous spot in the hotel, the place where Winterhouse’s renowned candy, Flurschen, was made, and the place that drew scores of guests for a three-times-a-week tour and free samples in the front room. Elizabeth had been inside many times. She loved the sweet aroma of walnuts and powdered sugar and jelly, all of which went into the delicious little squares of confection that, from this very kitchen, were sent to candy stores all over the world. It was sometimes said you could go almost anywhere on the globe, and even if a person hadn’t heard of Winterhouse itself, all you had to do was place a piece of Flurschen in their palm, and they would immediately recognize the tasty, powdery, sweet treat no one could resist popping into their mouth. Elizabeth loved the candy kitchen, with its spread of rooms where walnuts were shelled, jelly was cooked in huge kettles, and the little squares were cooled and sliced and powdered and boxed, all by a crew of proud and efficient candy masters.