Page 6 of Malcroix Bones Academy
I gave her a skeptical look. Even so, I realized this was likely her attempting to be reasonable. It was also likely as much of an overture as I’d get.
My mind returned to my impending graduation.
Spending a few hours with her, even if it involved navigating her crazy, meant I’d get a chance to convince her my proposal was the best option for everyone. I could explain how we might make the money a personal loan, if she wasn’t comfortable paying outright, one involving interest rates and payment plans.
Or I could kick and fight over these few minutes to speak with Archie, and basically ensure she wouldn’t give us anything at all.
Ankha could legally boot me out of her house now. She could stop paying for my school. She could separate my brother and I, and there wouldn’t be a damned thing I could do about it.
It was all too close to blow up everything now.
I relaxed the muscles in my arm.
When Ankha tugged on me next, I followed her to the front door. I didn’t protest as she walked me outside, or when she shut the door behind us. When Ankha finally released my now-bruised arm, I continued to follow her up the gravel driveway to the iron front gate.
Archie would just have to evade the roughs on his own that day.
We’d celebrate his birthday when I got back.
I’d make sure of it.
3
Mirrors And Tunnels
We were most of the way to the gate before it hit me that I might finally learn the mystery of how my aunt got in and out of our house grounds.
Arcturus and I had long speculated about this.
Ankha’s dusty, fender-rusted, silver Jaguar rarely left the detached garage. I’d only seen it twice without the canvas cover on it. I’d never seen any other car parked on the road or in the drive, the rare times Ankha dropped by for one of her “inspections.” I’d never even seen her open the front gate, although I’d definitely seen her walk right up to it.
Now I trailed a few feet behind as she walked briskly up to the elaborate iron gate again. Before she reached it, however, she took a sharp right, and disappeared into the tall hedge that lined that side of the paved drive.
I looked for an opening there, some hint that Ankha might’ve squeezed between two of the densely growing bushes, but I saw nothing. Then a large-knuckled hand, adorned with ringsdecorated with different-colored stones, emerged straight out of the center of the leafy wall, and grabbed the edge of my sweater.
The fingers yanked, and I yelped, and stumbled through.
I’d barely blinked when I found myself on the other side.
Nothing scratched my arms or face on the way through, and, even stranger, I now stood well away from the hedge, somehow crossing seven or eight feet in a single stride.
I stared down at myself, then around at the weed-choked courtyard with its sad little bird bath, and the gothic, stone structure I’d never discovered a precise purpose for. Its sharp gables and spire pointed towards the sky, with three stone steps leading up to an iron-hinged door. The inside couldn’t have been much larger than a portable toilet.
Like the side gate, that door always remained locked.
Now Ankha was unlocking it however, using a gold key that hung on a chain around her neck. She twisted the locking mechanism to the left, jerked on the handle, and the heavy door swung outward with a squeal on rusted hinges.
I moved closer to peer within.
I blinked and flinched when two green eyes stared back.
I was gazing at my own reflection in a floor-length, gold-framed mirror. The frame was gorgeous, and looked old, covered in gilded roses, gilded butterflies, and writhing gold snakes. The glass surface shone like it had been recently polished. It stood on the otherwise-empty stone floor on a gold stand, surrounded by dingy walls half-covered in cobwebs.
Mirrors had always been one of the oddest things about our aunt’s Victorian house.
Odd, in that there were none.
Whoever’d designed and furnished the two-story monstrosity did it with no mirrors anywhere. The bathrooms had no mirrors. None of the walls, doors, or closets had mirrors. Stranger still, the few mirrors I’d brought home mysteriouslydisappeared, usually by the following morning, but sometimes within the hour. Even the kitchen appliances were all of a dull yellow or cream, leaving no reflective surfaces.
