Siri Mitchell - Chateau of Echoes

“But why would she still be here?”

“Maybe she hasn’t found another job yet; she might not be in a position to finance a move.”

“Then where does she go on her ‘university days’?”

“I don’t know.”

We stared at each other through the flashes of lightning.

“Can I get up off this step? It’s killing my back.”

“Of course. I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t know what to think. And I’d seen you and Sévérine together… I saw her come out of your room.”

“Freddie, do you know what the odds were in seeing us that one night in my entire stay here? I swear to you that-” He’d started to place his hands on my arms, but then he read the warning in my eyes and dropped them. “Never mind.” He reached his arms up behind him, lacing his fingers together at the back of his head, and sighed. Then he released them, running a hand through his hair, and finally folded his arms in front of him.

Those arms. Those arms I had been surprised were so strong. Strong, but dangerous. I shivered. Then everything began to come together.

“Cranwell. The night of the feast. Sévérine was the only one who wasn’t at the table. She had to have been the one in my room.”

“You can’t know that. She was in the kitchen all night. Anyone could have prowled around without her knowledge. And the rest of us were in the dining hall.”

“And during the Journées de Patrimoine , she was the only one on the second and third floors. And she was probably the one who jumbled up my fruit boxes.”

“What proof do you have?”

“I don’t need any, Cranwell. I just know.” I had no doubt that it was Sévérine. She was searching for something. The question was, for what?

“What are you going to do?”

“Do you think she’s dangerous?” I was still trying to make sense of M. Dubois’ information, still trying to redraw my image of Sévérine.

Cranwell shrugged. “I think she’s been dishonest, but I don’t think she’d harm you.”

“But what’s she looking for?”

“It’s got to be something to do with Alix.”

“But what if it isn’t?” I might have thought so too, but I had seen her room. And aside from decoration, nothing in it had indicated to me that she had any interest in Alix.

“What are you thinking?”

I didn’t know. I just knew Alix no longer made sense.

Cranwell began to pace. “Let’s think about where she’s been looking.”

“Outside. Inside. In the kitchen, my room… maybe even your room?”

“So it can’t be anything very big if she thinks she could find it in our rooms. Everything’s been constructed of stone.”

“And most of the walls were torn down and put back together. During renovations.”

Cranwell’s eyes fixed on mine. “Does she know that?”

I shrugged.

“Is there anything-any room, any area-that wasn’t renovated?”

I started to say no, but then stopped myself. “The attics. They were reroofed and wires were run up through the floors, but that was it.”

“Any other rooms?”

“They didn’t touch the cellar, except for stringing wires along the ceiling.”

Cranwell sat for a long while, gazing into space. “How about the floors?”

“Every floor was renovated. All the rooms were redone.”

“But the actual flooring?”

“I never touched it. It’s all stone.”

He leapt to his feet, grabbed my hand, and ran me up the back stairs to my room. He opened the door, walked to the rug, and began rolling it up.

I bent to help him.

“Where’s that stone?”

“Which stone?” The whole room was made of stone.

“The one you said you trip on.”

I scanned the floor looking for it, but couldn’t pick it out from its neighbors. The light was dim-the storm had taken care of that. And the stone had never stuck up very far. Just enough for me to notice that it wasn’t flush with its surroundings.

“Which one?”

“I don’t know. Just a second.” I walked over to my bed and then turned around. Started walking as if I were headed toward the bathroom. But I didn’t feel anything. I went back to the bed, took my shoes off, and did it again. Still nothing.

Cranwell was kneeling now, his head against the floor, arm stretched out in front of him, sweeping back and forth across the stones. “Try it again.”

“I can’t. You’re in my way. And you’re making me nervous.”

He rose to his feet, crossed his arms.

I tried one last time. And just at the point when I thought for sure I’d missed again, I felt it. I didn’t dare pick my foot up for fear of losing the spot. “It’s right here.”

“There?”

“Right under my foot.”

He knelt beside my foot, put a hand around it.

I bent to place a hand on his neck for balance.

“Don’t move.”

“I’m trying not to.”

He slid my foot back and placed his hand where it had been.

I straightened, my eyes focused on the stone.

Cranwell was probing the edges with his fingers. “I need something with a sharp edge. And a flashlight.”

I wished Sévérine were there. We could have asked to borrow whatever she’d been using to gouge around my chateau. “I’ll be right back.” I ran straight down to the kitchen and grabbed an arsenal of sharp pointed implements: knives, scissors, an ice pick, and a cleaver. Pulled a flashlight from my desk drawer. Ran back to my room. I laid them all on the floor in front of Cranwell.

While I held the flashlight, the scissors and knives cleared centuries of dirt from the stone’s edges. The ice pick, used as a lever, loosed it from its place. I held my breath as Cranwell wrestled it from the hole. At the bottom, covered in dust, was a slim rod.

Cranwell fished it out, blew the dust from it. Then laid it on the floor beside the stone.

He turned the stone over, bent closer to look at the underside. It had been carved. Not much. But enough that the rod had not been crushed.

I picked it up. It was lightweight. It was plain, except that there was a design along one end. Some markings and a ring of jewels along the top. I had just held it closer toward the flashlight when I realized that Cranwell and I were not alone. “Sévérine.”

Cranwell turned around. Scrambled to his feet.

Sévérine left the doorway and walked toward us, shrouded in shadows. She stopped in front of the hole in the floor. Her gaze never left the rod in my hand.

I tightened my hold on it. Lowered my arm and brought it close to my body.

“That is mine. I have been searching for this. Thank you, Frédérique, for finding it.” She held out her hand toward me.

So compelling was her demeanor that I found myself stretching toward her, holding out the rod.

Cranwell’s hand grasped my forearm, pulled me up from the floor. When I was standing, he stepped in front of me. “It belongs to Freddie.”

“It belonged to Alix. It was from her mother. If you give this to me, I will put it in the body of research with all the other artifacts.”

I stepped out from behind Cranwell. “At the University of Rennes?”

She didn’t even blink. “Of course.”

“I talked with M. Dubois this afternoon. He asked you to leave. Six months ago.”

“But you see, it means nothing. Still I searched and look what I have found.” She smiled. “Now they will beg me to return.”

“Why didn’t you tell me they had asked you to leave?”

“Access to the journals is sometimes only granted to thésardes and professeurs. It was me the expert on Alix. And they wanted to give the journals to someone else to work on. I was angry. And why did I not tell you? Why did you need to know? I had to stay here. I knew what I would find in this chateau. I had only to search it.”