Sadie Madison and the Boy in the Crimson Scarf

28 | The Candlelight Parade

"Excellent, Sadie," Rhiannon said, picking herself off the floor and dusting down her skirts. "Beautifully done."

Sadie turned the strange wooden instrument over in her hands. "What happened? And where did this come from?"

Rhiannon smiled. "It's mine," she said simply. "I know the basics. The rest was all you."

"The basics?"

Rhiannon's words echoed in her mind.

Touch it. Remember.

"You used my knowledge of the penny whistle to help you play," Rhiannon said. Half a dozen terrified faces—their fingers sunk into the arms of their armchairs—were staring back. The other six inpatients lay strewn, twisted between broken chairs and tables, books and destitute board games.

Taking Sadie's hand, they left the day room, heading for the eastern doors.

Where the corridors had once been silent and empty, doktors and nurses and hospital officials were emerging, their faces tight, eyes bleary. They looked to Sadie as if they'd woken from hibernation. Wails from the inpatients chased Sadie and Rhiannon down each corridor, distressed and forlorn.

"Where have those women gone?"

"They're called the Wretched," Rhiannon corrected her. "The witches three, Mistresses of the Horned God. Genevieve escaped before the music reached her, but Edith and Dorothea were not so fortunate." Rhiannon set a strong pace, her boots pounding with each footfall. "You vaporised them."

"Vaporised?" Sadie shook the penny whistle in her clenched fist. "With this?"

"Yes. And keep it close," Rhiannon replied. "Genevieve may still be in the hospital. We cannot be too careful."

"Where did the others go?"

Rhiannon shrugged. "Back wherever they came from. Some dark, horrid place, I shouldn't wonder. It makes no matter. They're gone. For now."

Oliver hurried along behind them listening intently.

"Perhaps they went back to...the Nyx," Sadie suggested tentatively.

Rhiannon took a dozen steps before saying, "How do you know of the Nyx? I've never spoken of it and I doubt your father had the guts."

"I don't know who he was," Sadie said, her eyes on the back of Rhiannon's head. "He talked about the world behind us. And then I appeared in my bedroom and the Narrowers were there. A dream within a dream, they said. Is that possible?"

"Of course."

"They told me his name. The Unknown. Malmort—"

"Don't." Rhiannon said quickly but the words were already uttered. "Don't say his name. Any of them."

"Why not?"

They arrived at the eastern doors. Rhiannon stopped abruptly, her hand on the cold glass. She looked down the corridor. No sign of Genevieve or her dark sisters. Rhiannon seemed older, tired. "It gives him strength," she said. "Saying his name makes him real."

"He's not real?"

Rhiannon looked at the shimmer standing next to Sadie. "Oliver came from nothing. The more people that know of him and say his name, the more real he becomes. The same is true of the Horned God."

Rhiannon took a deep breath. A million thoughts seemed to rush behind her eyes. The dreadlocked woman forced the heavy glass door open and shepherded Sadie into the cold.

Oliver took Sadie's hand as they trotted down the stone steps.

"I am so glad you are okay," he said. "You were completely out of it. I did not know what to do. If Rhiannon had not come along—"