of telephone. The messages we see and hear today may be nothing like what was actually intended.
Please email me with any further questions.
Best,
Professor Kent
I clicked on the attachment and a blurry photo popped up on my screen: a piece of crumbling papyrus pressed between plastic, held by the gloved hands of someone in a white lab coat. It was too blurry to make out any of the writing, but something struck me. It looked familiar.
I zoomed in to get a better look, but it only made the resolution worse. The plants on the hearth twisted toward me. One of their tendrils had gotten stuck in the groove where the fireplace had slid open.
Suddenly, I remembered that the key to the secret door in the Poison Garden wasn’t the only thing I’d found in the hidden office.
I jumped off my bed and grabbed the sketchbook from under my mattress. I pulled out the paper that was preserved in plastic and held it next to the image on my computer screen. It was impossible to tell if the letters matched, but the broken pieces in each document lined up.
I grabbed my phone and called Marie.
“Hey,” she answered.
“Hey. Is Nyx still coming to get me?”
“She’s on her way right now.” Even over the phone I could tell she was smiling. “You sound excited.”
“I need your library, if that’s okay.”
“Oh,” she said. “Using me for my books?”
“No. No, I wouldn’t—”
Marie laughed into the phone. “I’m joking. See you soon?”
“Yeah,” I said.
I gathered the sketchbook and the document, which I now handled with more care than I had before, and put them in my bag. I went downstairs and checked in with Mom and Mo before meeting Nyx in the driveway as she pulled up. I climbed in the front seat this time, and we headed to Marie’s.
Nyx showed me into the library, where Marie was already waiting. She practically bum-rushed me, sweeping me into a hug. I gasped. Mostly because my feet were dangling a full six inches above the ground but also because as she’d gathered me up, her face had brushed against the bare skin of my neck.
“Sorry,” she said, setting me down. She let her hands trail down my sides, gently resting them on my waist. “After what happened, I thought you might never come back. I’m really happy to see you.”
“Me too,” I said quickly. “Are you literally gonna sweep me off my feet every time I see you?”
She lowered her eyes. “A side effect of the Heart. I’ve been like this since it happened.”
I rested my hand on her arm. “I’m good with that.” I reached into my back pocket and handed her the envelope with the rosary peas inside.
She peeked inside and her fingers gently danced across her necklace. “Thank you.”
“I have a bunch of stuff I need to tell you, and I don’t know where to start.”
She took my hand and gently pulled me to the couch.
“Me and Karter went to see Lou,” I said.
Her eyebrow arched up. “How’d that go?”
“Um, he hates you,” I said. “I thought he was going to spontaneously combust. He was so angry when I mentioned your name.”
“The feeling’s mutual.”
“But he did tell me some information about my birth family, and none of it’s good.” I ran through what Lou had shared with me: the strange deaths, the homicides, the disappearances. Marie didn’t say anything until I finished.
“You’re telling me Circe isn’t in that grave?”
I shook my head. “Not according to Lou.”
“I’m sorry you had to hear that from him.” She put her hand on my knee. “He’s a ghoul, but I don’t think he’s dishonest. If that’s what he said, then it’s probably true. After Astraea died, I left Rhinebeck for a long time. I’d come back and leave again. I kept watch, but from a distance, you know? I got to know Circe, but she was guarded. I didn’t know they’d lost so much over the generations.”
“And he’s doing exactly what you said, covering up the deaths, making it seem like nothing out of the ordinary is going on here. I still don’t understand why but there’s something else.” I pulled the sketchbook and the other document out of my bag and handed them to her. “I found this in the house and I need to find out what it says.” I showed her the email and the blurry picture from Dr. Kent on my phone.
“So Medea was a real person?” Marie asked. “And she had some of the same