She resolved to wake up very early and set off for Darkly Wynd. Tancred had suggested the painting of Badlock might be there. And Tancred was always right. Emma chose not to think of the occasions when he had been wrong.
Her mind made up, Emma slept soundly for a few hours and then woke at dawn, refreshed and determined. She decided to get dressed before leaving, even though she would be traveling as a bird. When she opened the window, an unpleasant, musty smell drifted into the room. A thick, gray-green cloud lay just beyond the edge of the city. Was this the fog the radio had been warning them about?
Emma climbed onto the windowsill and closed her eyes. She thought of a bird, small, brown, and inconspicuous. Feathers rustled at her fingertips and she felt herself beginning to shrink. Smaller and smaller. The tiny feathers swept up her arms and covered her head. In a few seconds a small brown wren
was perching on the windowsill. It lifted its wings and flew into the gray dawn sky.
The city beneath was silent and still. A few cars were parked in some of the outlying roads, but otherwise the place appeared to be deserted. No early morning joggers, no mail trucks, no garbage collectors. Nothing moved except the birds in the sky and a few cats hunting in parks and gardens.
Emma swooped down toward Greybank Crescent and fluttered along the dark cul-de-sac called Darkly Wynd. The sight of the three tall houses always made Emma shudder. Which one should she choose to investigate first? Perhaps Charlie's great-aunt Venetia was keeping the painting. She had a lot in common with Mrs. Tilpin." Yes, Emma could imagine a poisoner and minor sorceress living happily beside that grim, forbidding landscape.
The little bird flew back and forth across the three houses. The curtains were closed in every window and she couldn't see any that were open. She would have more luck at the back, she thought. But here too the curtains were drawn and the windows shut. Refusing to give up, Emma flew into Venetia's garden.
No one had bothered to mow the lawn ever, by the look of it, and the dry grass grew waist high, completely concealing the lower part of the house. To a tiny bird, this didn't present a problem. Hopping through the stalks, she came to a low basement window. It was uncurtained but not open.
Emma fluttered down to the sill and peered into the room beyond. The pane was grimy with dust and cobwebs, but she could just make out a long table covered in material of every description. Bottles of colored liquid stood at one end.
Poisonous potions, thought Emma, twisting her head from side to side to get a better view. Now she could see piles of sequins at the other end of the table; beside them were reels of cotton, needles, and scissors of different sizes. Bunches of herbs hung from the ceiling, and dark, shiny plants snaked their way across the walls. But there was no sign of a painting.
Something glinted at the back of the room. The bird's sharp eyes made out another table, small and round. And there, sitting on a pile of silk, was a mirror.
Even from a distance Emma could see that it was very beautiful. The circle of glass was set in a golden frame and the handle was an oval of twisted gold and silver. Intricate patterns and tiny jewels were set into the frame, and even though the mirror was in shadow, it had a vibrant glow. It was definitely Amoret's mirror, stolen by Mrs. Tilpin and broken by Joshua.
Venetia was obviously trying to mend it for them.
How can I reach it? She had come to find the painting, but perhaps the mirror could be of use instead. Emma hopped along the windowsill. She was too small to break a pane. If only she had chosen to be an eagle or a vulture. Think, she told herself. Sec what you wish to he. And she saw an eagle, its dark wings spread like a cloak against the sky, a white head and golden talons as sharp as knives.
Emma shivered and stretched. She could hear her feathers crackling as they grew and multiplied. She was now so tall she could see farther into Venetia's workroom, and so wide she could no longer perch on the narrow sill. A hoarse cry came from her white throat and she lifted in the air. Hovering, for a moment, high above the dismal garden, she measured the basement window with her faultless sight, and then swooped, so fast she could hardly draw breath.
Her feet smashed through the windowpane with a bang that resonated like a rifle shot.
Folding her wings, Emma sailed through the broken window, thrust out her talons, and seized the mirror. With a lightning-swift turn she was through
the room and out into the air. Success made her give a triumphant cry, and as she flew up into the sky, she saw windows opening in the three number thirteens.
"Eagle!" screeched Venetia from the top of her lofty house. "It's got Titania's mirror."
"Eagle thief!" shouted Eric from the window below her. "Kill it!"
"I'll get it!" cried Eustacia, appearing with a crossbow in a window in the middle house. And an iron bolt came whizzing past Emma's head. She screamed in terror and almost dropped the mirror.
"Missed," yelled Lucretia from a window in the third house.
Before the next bolt could hit her, Emma was out of reach and flying high over the city. Charlie's house was easy to spot because of the chestnut tree that grew in front of it. Emma came down in a whoosh of air, right at the top. The eagle is a heavy bird, and the branch that Emma landed on creaked under her weight as it swung down beside a window underneath the eave.
Spread flat against the window was a hand. Behind the hand was Charlie Bone.
He was sitting in a chair, half asleep, by the look of it. Emma tapped the windowpane with her beak, and Charlie's eyes flew open. He stared at the huge bird framed in the window, its feathers covered in shards of glass, and then he saw the mirror clasped in the talons of its left foot.
Charlie opened the window very carefully so as not to push the eagle off the branch. "Em, is that you?" he said, astonished at the size of the huge bird.
Emma thrust her foot through the open window, and Charlie gingerly took the mirror from the lethal-looking talons. Before he had time to thank her, the bird took off from the shuddering treetop and soared into the air.
Charlie sat back in the chair and gazed at the mirror. He wondered how Emma had managed to find it. The eagle was covered in glass. Had she risked her life to get the mirror? He hoped not, for it was still cracked, still useless. He would never get into Badlock with this broken mirror.
The window was still open and from outside, there came a shout. "Charlie, let me in." He looked out and saw Emma, standing on the sidewalk and looking quite herself again, if a little disheveled.
"Hang on!" called Charlie. He ran downstairs and opened the front door.
Emma quickly stepped inside. Little pieces of glass were caught in her long hair and there were scratches on her forehead.
"You OK, Em?" Charlie asked, still amazed by what she had done.
"I thought I could find the painting for you," she said, gulping for air.
"Phew! Sorry, couldn't get my breath back."
"It's very... well. Thanks, Em." He didn't know how to tell her that the mirror was useless. "No one's awake yet. Do you want to come up to the spare room?"
"The spare room? Have you been sleeping there, Charlie?"
He reddened. "Sort of."
"Why?" she asked. "And could I have a drink or something?"
"Um, yes." Charlie shifted from foot to foot. "Can you make it yourself? I've got to get back upstairs."
"Why?" Emma was disappointed. Charlie didn't seem very excited about the mirror.
"Because I'm kind of waiting for someone." Charlie dashed upstairs, saying,
"I'm sorry. It's hard to explain. See you up there."
Mystified, Emma went into the kitchen and made herself some hot chocolate instead of tea. Having gotten up so early, she felt desperately hungry and helped herself from a package of cookies sitting on the counter.