Chapter 38 Emma
EMMA
Dear Bruce,
Sorry I haven’t written in you much lately.
It’s been busy, and also, somehow, boring.
The last thing I think I wrote to you about was finding that music box at the house on Curzon Street.
There’s nothing much to say about the music box, it turns out.
Tessa said that it was probably her son James’s, that he got it as a fifteenth birthday present but she couldn’t remember who from, and everyone thought it was very ugly, and his parents made him take it to Curzon Street when he moved there.
And then that was it for clues. Rupert definitely is getting stronger over time, but he hasn’t had any new suggestions for us on where to look.
A couple weeks after we found the music box he started to become an actual visible ghost floating around the place.
(He looks like… some guy! Some guy with dark hair, in old-timey clothes!
He also looks barely older than we are; I guess he and Tatiana were young when they got together.)
But Visible Rupert has not been all that helpful.
He drifts around the house, looking for his silver band.
He has not found it, and neither have we.
We’ve asked him to talk about Tatiana, but he really doesn’t want to— he tends to disappear anytime we mention her name.
We’re not sure if that’s the curse, or if he just doesn’t like remembering her.
Anyway, it’s been two months or something since we went to Curzon Street; we have four objects; we need six; the house is still cursed; and the brownies still won’t work. So Julian broke down and sent a message to Ragnor Fell asking for help.
Yesterday we got a reply from Ty saying he was coming with Ragnor today to Blackthorn Hall.
He seemed very worried Julian would be mad, but Julian wasn’t at all mad.
He was nervous. He went around all day looking distracted and bumping into things, so when we went to bed that night, I took his hand and wrote on his palm, the way we always used to do, tracing each letter.
W-H-A-T A-R-E Y-O-U W-O-R-R-I-E-D A-B-O-U-T-?
We curled up together under the covers. He told me he was worried because he used to be the person who took care of Ty, and now it had been more than a year and Ty had been taking care of himself.
He said he used to know everything about Ty: when he got up and when he went to sleep, what he liked to eat and do.
And now he feels like he’s lost track of him somehow, and when they see each other maybe it will feel distant and strange.
I told him he would never lose track of Ty and their relationship would always be special; it was just going to be different, because Jules no longer has to take care of everyone and pretend he isn’t.
He doesn’t have to carry this big secret weight around, and responsibility is always a weight no matter how much you love the people you’re responsible for.
After that, he kissed me, and the rest, Bruce, is none of your business. Goodness, you like to pry.
Back to today. Julian and I were having breakfast this morning—it’s been nice and sunny this last week, and the kitchen was feeling surprisingly cheerful.
I’ve become besotted with crumpets, and Julian is excellent at toasting them over the stove.
We were having them with honey and butter when we heard a knock on the front door.
Julian jumped up like he’d been stung. (I told you he was nervous!) It was Ragnor, looking a sprightly shade of green, like an English meadow.
He sailed right past Julian and began inspecting the drapes.
Well, he was probably inspecting something magical, like the curse, but to me it looked like he was examining the curtains and the wallpaper.
Maybe he’s thinking of decorating his own place.
Or maybe he was only giving Julian time alone with Ty, because Ty was still standing on the stairs, a duffel bag over his arm, looking adorably awkward.
I wanted to run down and hug him but I hung back because I could feel in my bones that this was Ty and Jules’ moment.
Jules just stood in the doorway looking at Ty with his face all tight and then he said, “Come here,” in a rough sort of voice and Ty dropped his duffel bag and ran up the stairs and Julian hugged him so tightly I thought for sure he’d protest. But he didn’t.
He leaned into the hug. Jules rubbed his back and said, “Ty-Ty,” and I missed what happened next because I was keeping my eyes open very wide and trying not to blink.
It’s the best way I know to keep from crying.
Eventually they let go of each other and we showed Ty and Ragnor around the first floor, which did feel a little weird, knowing that Ty had already been here two years ago with Livvy.
I think we could all feel it, the heartbroken elephant in the room.
Julian kept casting anxious glances at Ty, but Ty didn’t look sad, actually.
More thoughtful. Eventually Julian told him he should go upstairs and pick out a bedroom.
“Any room! There are lots to choose from. Whichever you want, you can decide how you want to decorate it. Anything you want to do.”
“And where will I be sleeping?” Ragnor said with his usual sunny disposition. “Stuffed up the chimney?” (That was a joke, Bruce, the sunny disposition thing. In case it wasn’t clear.)
Ty was already headed upstairs with Julian.
I told Ragnor he could sleep wherever he wanted though I recommended the couch downstairs if he wanted to be close to the ghost, since Rupert still tends to turn up most often in the dining room.
Ragnor didn’t commit to this, but instead wandered into the kitchen and started making tea.
I offered him a crumpet to be hospitable, and by the time Julian came back downstairs Ragnor was dripping honey on the counter.
“Can I see the ley line map?” Jules asked. “Or are you too busy attracting ants?”
“No ants,” said Ragnor, around his crumpet.
“Not the season.” He licked his fingers, stuck his hand into his jacket, and pulled out a huge rolled-up parchment which he definitely did not fit in the jacket without doing some magic, so never let it be said Ragnor doesn’t like a dramatic gesture, even if he claims to be above that kind of thing.
He unfurled it on the long dining table and weighted it down with a candlestick and books along the edges.
It was a map of central London—it’s hard to miss the distinctive shape of the Thames snaking through the middle—but absolutely covered in lines in several different colored inks—red, blue, green, gold.
Along the lines were astrological symbols and arrows and numbers and the occasional bit of Greek. You could barely read the street names.
“Your map of London is in Greek?” Julian said. “Also, you’re getting honey on it.”
“Honey is good for parchment,” Ragnor said. “It’s a preservative. And it’s Coptic.”
“Your map of London is in Coptic?” I said.
Ragnor regarded it fondly. “It is. Believe it or not, it’s one of the most readable ley line maps of the city I’ve found. Some of them are just impossible. This one is from the 1700s; they only wrote in Coptic to be difficult. Warlocks are like that.”
I know, I wanted to say, but I didn’t, because Ragnor was doing us a favor.
“Is your ghost afoot?” Ragnor said. He had withdrawn a large magnifying crystal and was peering through it at bits of the map.
“Not sure,” I said. “Rupert? We have a visitor who wants to meet you.”
Nothing happened.
“So he comes and goes,” Ragnor muttered, as though to himself. “Interesting.” He took a small leather notebook from his pocket and paged through it.
“Is it interesting?” Julian said. “Maybe he’s just shy around new people. Before we showed up, he was alone here for fifty years or so.”
Ragnor looked up at Julian. “My boy, there are telephone calls that old I haven’t gotten around to returning.”
“Well, you should be a better correspondent,” Julian said, folding his arms. “Do you see anything on the map?”
Ragnor hmphed and returned to the parchment. After a while he straightened up and said, “All right. Do you want to hear all the nitty-gritty details, or should I skip directly to the conclusion?”
“Conclusion, please,” I said.
“I thought so,” Ragnor said. He sounded grumpy, for no reason I could imagine. That’s our Ragnor!
“Taking into account the different types of ley lines and the various intersections, knots, and traces,” he said, “and assuming the two remaining objects are likely in central London, since all the others have been, and assuming the objects are likely to be in locations relevant to the Shadow World…” He paused and cocked an eyebrow at us.
“With you so far,” Julian said.
“I see here and here as the most likely search locations.” He had produced a pencil from somewhere and circled two spots on the map. “Here is the church of St. Mary Abchurch. And here…” He trailed off.
Julian leaned over the map where Ragnor was pointing. “Yes? It looks like a back alley in Soho.”
“Well,” said Ragnor, “there is a row of townhouses in that alley, and once upon a time, for many years, there was an infamous Downworlder salon in one of those townhouses. The Hell Ruelle, it was called. It was a very clever name, you see, because a ruelle is a name for a kind of reception French aristocratic ladies used to hold in their bedrooms, a little like a salon. And a ruelle is also a narrow alley, such as the one this house is on.”
“And,” I said seriously, “it rhymes.”
“Quite,” said Ragnor. “I’ve no idea what happened to it. Salons have been long out of fashion, but Downworlders do like our old-fashioned things. I’d wager it’s still a club of some kind, probably as scandalous as it was back in the day. Scandal never goes out of fashion, I’ve noticed.”
“We saw a playbill from there,” Julian told him. “It was displayed at the Herondale house on Curzon Street.”
Ragnor’s eyebrows went up. “You went to the Curzon Street house? What’s it like now?”
Julian started telling Ragnor all about our visit there, which was fine because I wanted to go check on Ty.
I thought he might come downstairs to assist or at least observe Ragnor, but he’d apparently found a place he liked and remained there.
Or some terrible dark magic had befallen him. But probably the first.
He was easy to find, at least. There are a lot of bedrooms but not that many, and besides, these old walls don’t do anything to block sound, and I could hear his voice in one of them. The “gray bedroom” as Julian and I call it. It has a nice view of the duck pond.
I guess he was talking on the phone to someone; I could hear the pauses where he was listening to the other person.
I thought I heard him say, “Well, I have no idea why, but it hasn’t been that long,” and then the door opened and he stepped into the doorway.
He immediately started at the sight of me standing in the hall. “Emma?”
“I came up to see how you’re doing,” I said. “I think we’re going to get takeaway in a bit. Is this the bedroom you like?”
“Yes,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at the high windows. “It’s a good room, I think.”
“Were you talking to your sister?” I said.
He didn’t say anything but sort of went red, then white. I wondered if he’d said something I wasn’t supposed to overhear, but I couldn’t imagine what. “I wasn’t listening,” I clarified. “I just assumed it was Dru.”
“Oh!” he said. “Yes. Yes, I was talking to Dru. She…”
“Probably wants to know what the bedrooms are like,” I said, trying to put him at ease. “Dru would definitely want the gothiest one.”
“Sure.” Ty and I started downstairs. “I’m not a good judge of what’s gothy, though.”
“I think the idea is ‘as creepy as possible,’” I said, and we reached the kitchen, where Jules and Ragnor were waiting.
Ty relaxed quickly; it turned out all he needed was (a) some tea and (b) to talk with Ragnor about the details of the ley line map endlessly until food arrived and finally stopped them.
Bruce, I swear at one point Ragnor told a joke in Coptic and Ty laughed heartily.
They’re hardcore over there at the Scholomance.
Maybe too hardcore for me. But don’t get me wrong, it was very nice to have them here.
It reminded me that when this project is complete and all the Blackthorns are here and can make it their own, this house could feel warm and friendly again.
It didn’t even feel that cursed as we lay in front of the fireplace playing Cluedo until Ty was falling asleep.
* * *
Update: Sunday night. Ragnor and Ty left this afternoon.
It was wonderful to have them here, and very good for Julian and me to have people in the house to talk to other than the builder gnomes.
Ty and Julian spent a bunch of time roaming around the gardens, deciding which old statues are ruined in a decorative, attractive manner, and which are just ruined.
We’re going to have to get some new statues when we redo the garden, which Ty was very excited about.
He thinks we should have one of Holmes holding a magnifying glass, and one of Watson.
The only weird thing is that Ghost!Rupert was missing for the whole visit, then reappeared an hour after Ty and Ragnor left.
We showed him the map and what Ragnor told us, and he said he’s sure Ragnor is right.
And it turns out he did talk to Ty at some point.
He said Ty is “kind to ghosts.” Maybe Ty made him a ghost sandwich or read him a ghost bedtime story or something.
Ty certainly didn’t say anything about it.
So, that’s all for now. I guess we’re going to head to St. Mary Abchurch tomorrow afternoon, and depending how it goes we’ll check out this townhouse and see if there’s still a scandalous Soho club there.
Though what Ragnor would consider scandalous might not be scandalous to us.
I guess we’ll find out. For all we know it’s just some guy’s house and he’ll be very confused to see us.
Good night, Bruce. It’s nice to think of what it will be like when all the Blackthorns are here and the place is full of noise and activity.
It’s the first time since we started I’ve really been able to envision it, even with the curse.
Meanwhile, I’m going to tuck a Polaroid of us playing Cluedo here between these pages, in case you want something to look at later.
— Emma