A Great and Terrible Beauty - Page 97/116

"It might be pressing our luck to do it again so soon," I say.

"Do be a sport," Ann pleads.

Felicity nods. "Yes, after all, nothing terrible happened. And think of how marvelous it's been having all that power at our fingertips. Perhaps your mother was simply doing what mothers do bestworrying needlessly." "Perhaps," I say. I must admit that I'm in love with the feeling the magic of the runes provides. One more visit to them can't hurt. And then I promise I'll stop and do as my mother says. "All right, then," I say. "The caves it is."

"Oh, honestly, I'm too tired to run off to the woods tonight," Pippa groans.

"We could do it right now. Right here," Felicity says.

Pippa's eyes widen. "Are you mad? With Mrs. Nightwing and all the others around us?"

Felicity lifts a section of scarf with her finger. Crowded around the warm fire in clumps of threes and fours, the others are oblivious to us. "They'll never know we were gone."

We take that ride on the mountaintop, falling into ourselves without trying to stop. I have only one rough moment, I'm a mermaid, rising from the sparkling sea, but when I look down, the water is my mother's face, tight and fearful. I'm suddenly afraid and wish I could stop. But in the next moment we're swept away to Felicity's tent. Our eyes are shining, our skin is rosy, our all-knowing smiles are back. Our bodies feel like luxurious sighs as we stand in the great hall, completely invisible.

Oh, God, the great and terrible beauty of it. Around us, the motion of the room has slowed to the lethargic tempo of a music box coming unwound. Their voices are deep and every word seems to take a lifetime to say. Mrs. Nightwing sits in her chair, reading David Copperfield aloud to the younger girls. The temptation is too much for me. I touch her arm, ever so slightly. She doesn't stop reading, but slowly, slowly, her free hand lifts and comes to rest on the spot I've touched. She scratches at the place where my hand has been, an irritation like an insect bite she's reacted to and forgotten again. It's extraordinary.

Pippa lets out with a tiny whelp of joy. "They can't see us! It's as if we're not really here! Oh, the things I'd like to do"

"Why not do them?" Felicity says, arching a brow. With that, she reaches over and flips the book in Mrs. Nightwing's hands so that it is upside down. It takes Mrs. Nightwing a moment to register what has happened, but when she does, she's completely perplexed. The girls at her feet cover their mouths with their hands to suppress their giggles.

"Why is everything so slow?" I say, leaning my hand against a marble column. It wriggles beneath my hand and I pull it back fast.

The column is alive.

Hundreds of tiny marble fairies and satyrs move on the surface. An odious little gargoyle unfurls his wings, cocks his head to one side. "You see things the way they really are now," he says. "The others think this is only dreaming. But they live in the dream, not us." He spits and wipes his nose on his wing.

"Ugh," Felicity says. "Disgusting. I'm tempted to squash him."

With a screech, the gargoyle is off, flying higher on the column. A glimmering fairy boy with yellow eyes smiles up at me. "Why don't you free us, then?" His voice is a soft murmur.

"Free you?"

"We're trapped here. Free usjust for a moment, long enough to stretch our wings."

"All right," I say. It seems a reasonable request, after all. "You are free."

With screeches and yelps, the fairies and nymphs run down the column like water till they're scurrying about the floor, scavenging bits of cheese, hunks of bread, the odd checker piece. It's madness with all these creatures running and flying about.

"Gracious!" Pippa squeals.

A satyr the size of my thumb strides to a girl seated on the rug. He peeks under the hem of her dress, lets loose with a lascivious howl.

"So sweet and plump," he growls.

"What filthy creatures," Felicity says, laughing. "The ladies of Spence are in for a very naughty treat."

"We can't let them do this," I say, half-laughing myself at their pranks. As the satyr climbs the girl's calf, I pick him up with my fingers. "Oh, no you don't," I chide merrily.

He writhes and curses in protest. In an instant, his face transforms into a demonic mask and he sinks his sharp teeth into the tender skin of my wrist. With a cry of pain, I drop him. Is it my imagination, or is he suddenly larger? Felicity gasps beside me, and now I know it's truethe beast is growing. He looms over us, his horned head touching the ceiling.