She screamed and thrashed as if she were being attacked by wasps, and it suddenly occurred to Ned that maybe she couldn’t swim! Panicked, he was about to dive in after her when she swam to the edge and rushed out of the freezing water. He tried to wrap his jacket around her but she responded by shoving him to the ground.
“Are you crazy?! You kidnap me, you try to drown me, and you pretend to know me and my friends!” At the mention of friends, her face filled with horror. “Fargus and Ida! Where are they?” She looked around her, teeth chattering with cold and shock.
“You’ve been staying with Bruce and Alma Jarvis, on a farm. Do you remember?”
Her eyes looked wild. “Uh . . . yes . . . I think so . . . yes.”
“Your friends were there with you. I saw them. Do you remember them being there?”
Josephine had a hazy memory, more like a dream, of Bruce showing Ida and Fargus how to bait a fish line. “I . . . I think so.”
“Concentrate. Are they still on the farm?”
Alma making lunch. Bruce building a fire. Sleeping. Ida angry at her. Why? Alma in her room. Chocolate. Crying. Sleeping. “Alma said they ran away.” It was all coming back now, snippets of memory.
“Alma was lying. And I think she’s been drugging you.”
“Drugging me? Why would she do that?”
“She’s working for someone else. The whole town is.”
Josephine knew he was talking about the Master. She tried to keep the tears from forming, not wanting to accept the truth, that she had been betrayed by Alma and Bruce, her new family.
Josephine began to back away from Ned. “Why should I trust you?”
“I could’ve left you on that farm, unable to say your own name.”
She tried to read his face, which was kind and gentle, but so was Alma’s. She had no idea whom to trust anymore.
Ned saw pure panic in her eyes. “Can you tell me your name now?”
“Josephine Isabelle Russing.”
Ned looked as if he’d been punched in the gut. “Russing? Who else here knows your name?”
“Just Alma and Bruce.”
“I need to get you to my father. Now.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Josephine pulled off her soaking headband and attempted to harness her wet hair, which was already starting to refrizz. She managed a semidecent ponytail and then turned her attention to her clinging, now dirty new dress and her mud-caked, ruined blue shoes. “Hot maggot breath,” she muttered, and then blushed when she realized she had used one of Ida’s curses.
Ned glared at her, annoyed with the delay. Why were girls so maddening?
“Fine. Stay. I’m going home to a warm fire. Just be careful of the Brothers.” He walked toward the forest.
Josephine stopped preening and looked into the trees, suddenly nervous. “Do they come around here?”
Ned didn’t even turn around. “I guess you’ll find out.” He marched into the dense forest, leaving Josephine shivering in the open clearing. She turned in circles, trying to get her bearings. It was difficult to see the sun, so she didn’t know which way was west. She heard a rustling in a nearby bush and decided not to wait to see what it was.
She ran into the forest after Ned.
TWENTY-THREE
Ida awoke in complete darkness. She smelled damp earth and there was something uncomfortable sticking into her back, but when she turned to remove it, she found she couldn’t move. Her hands and feet were bound. She struggled and pulled at the ropes, but they had been expertly tied. The more she fought, the tighter they grew, and the more panicked she became.
She yelled into the darkness, “Fargus! Fargus, are you here? Can you hear me? Josephine?”
Her voice traveled upward and then echoed back down. Bits of dirt fell from above and landed in her eyes and mouth. She spat them out and decided she was in a cave or hole of some sort and that the thing poking at her back was probably a root. She tried not to think of the bugs and worms that could be sharing her prison.
Tears soon formed and Ida told herself that it was just the grit in her eyes, but deep down the terror was growing as she accepted her fate.
She was completely alone in the dark.
TWENTY-FOUR
Fargus was led down a long corridor made entirely of marble. The ceiling, the walls, and the floor were the same polished shade of opalescent white, which made Fargus feel as if he were inside an enormous pearl. The old man in the orange cap moved slowly. He appeared to be in some pain. He was bent over at such an extreme angle that Fargus reckoned the man could smell his own shoes.
Finally they arrived at a large door set deeply into the wall. It, too, was made of marble, but it was black and covered in large carved replicas of the Brothers, their malicious eyes daring anyone to enter. To Fargus, the door suddenly felt as ominous as the Brothers themselves.
Mr. Seaworthy tapped on the door ever so lightly and it slid backward with a whoosh.
“Bon appétit,” he mumbled, putting his hand on Fargus’s back and nudging him inside.
Fargus entered an enormous room, more appropriate for a ball than a lunch. He could see a dining room table on the far side of the space and approached it tentatively. As he got closer, he could see the table was large enough to seat fifty men, and each chair looked as though it had been carved from a whole tree. But they were all empty. There was no one at the table. Had this been some sort of trick?
And then a reedy, nasally voice called out to him, “Have a seat.”
It came from the head of the table. Fargus saw that someone was sitting there after all. It was a child, no older than ten, he guessed. The child had a large, round head and dark, squinty eyes, and his black hair only served to accentuate his pale, spotty skin. He wore black from head to toe and had several chunky rings on his tiny hands. The behemoth chair surrounding him gave the impression of a toddler resting in an upright canoe. As Fargus stood there gawking, the boy began to squirm. He attempted a smile but it came out as more of a sneer. Fargus decided that this must be some sort of boy prince and that his parents would be joining them soon.
