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CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Confessions

Spring of Four

The Guiltghast threw itself at the window of the Receiving Room in a desperate frenzy – again, and again and again – eliciting a chorus of screams from the guests with each thundering impact.

‘It’s the Manyhands!’ someone cried out.

‘Get back!’ Morrigan shouted, waving people towards the other end of the room, but nobody was listening. They stood frozen, staring in horror at the monster outside. ‘It’s NOT the Manyhands. Everyone please , move away from the window, it’s—’

‘ Do you see? ’ There was genuine fear in Tobias’s face now. He threw his arms around Aunt Margot, trying to shield her. ‘This girl – this Wundersmith has brought a MONSTER into our district! She killed Dario, and now she’s trying to kill the rest of us!’

‘MOVE!’ Morrigan boomed in her loudest, most dangerous voice. They could believe what they wanted about her as long as they listened .

‘YOU HEARD HER, YOU BIG POSH NUMPTIES!’ Thaddea took up the task, shoving and corralling people as far away from the window as she could, while Hawthorne, Cadence, Arch, Mahir and Jack followed her lead. ‘GET BACK! MOVE!’

On its fourth try, the Guiltghast shattered the glass from floor to ceiling and suddenly it was inside, gliding along the floor with preternatural grace and speed. The gigantic eyes on either side of its head scanned the room while its long, glimmering tendrils reached out in every direction, sensing its way like a serpent’s tongue tasting the air. Looking for food.

Looking for its biggest and tastiest prey item, Morrigan realised, as it landed right in front of the guiltiest person in the room.

Mouth open in a silent ‘O’, Lady Margot Darling stared up at the enormous thing looming above her, clutching tight to her husband in terror. Morrigan pelted towards them, throwing her reach ahead of her a fraction of a second too late. The Guiltghast reached out faster—

‘AUNT MARGOT, RUN !’

But it wasn’t reaching for Aunt Margot. A thick cluster of tendrils pushed her carelessly aside and instead curled around Tobias’s neck like a hand, raising him into the air.

‘ Tobias! ’ Aunt Margot cried out, grabbing vainly for her husband as he was lifted out of reach.

‘ Tobias? ’ Morrigan and Cadence echoed in unison.

More tendrils wrapped around and around his body, cocooning him like a fly in spider silk. The sound of his screaming was horrendous, but the silence when he stopped was somehow worse.

The Guiltghast was electrified, lighting up like a disco with flashes of colour that travelled from the point of contact with Tobias all the way into its vast, jelly-like abdomen. The pale translucence turned completely transparent as it filled with moving three-dimensional images and confusing snatches of sound. It was as if the creature had turned into a living projector and was fast-forwarding through the film of Tobias’s life, hunting for his guiltiest secrets. They were about to watch Tobias’s confession, Morrigan realised. Whether he liked it or not.

An eerie hush fell. Nobody moved.

The broken, blinking montage began to slow, resolving into a scene of lapping water, glittering lights and distant music. A handsome but pensive Dario Rinaldi sat on a dark, narrow path beneath the arch of a bridge, his legs dangling down into the golden dragon boat bobbing on the canal. He had something in his hand that Morrigan couldn’t quite make out, and he was absent-mindedly scraping it back and forth against the stone, making a sharp metallic rasping sound as he stared gloomily at the water.

‘My son ,’ Olivia Rinaldi sobbed. ‘My SON!’

Her husband had to hold her back from running for the Guiltghast, arms out as if she might be able to reach inside its bulbous body and hug her eldest boy. Morrigan could see why. The image was so real, it almost felt like Dario was in the room with them. When he looked up and scowled, it felt like he was scowling at her.

‘What do you want?’ he demanded, pausing his repetitive scraping.

‘You were supposed to meet me,’ said Tobias-of-the-past, sounding flustered and irritated. He clambered out of a small wooden kayak, tethering it to a metal post on the narrow ledge, and held something out to Dario as he approached him. ‘Here – take it. And make sure you give her the whole dose.’

Morrigan gasped as she recognised the small green bottle.

Dario made a noise of disgust, pushing his hand away. ‘No. I’m not doing it.’ Dario glanced furiously over his shoulder, making sure they were alone. ‘Do you know how seriously the FSDA takes flight-fixing? I could be banned from dragonsport for life! I wouldn’t even be able to coach . I’m not risking my career just so you can make a quick fortune by betting against us. And I’m certainly not risking the safety of my dragon.’

‘You already agreed!’ Tobias snarled. Morrigan could tell he was trying to intimidate, to sound commanding, but it read as desperation. ‘It’s too late to back out now!’

‘Give it up, you pillock. I’m not throwing the trials.’ Dario checked his watch, then gave the thing he was playing with one final rasping scraaape against the stone before casually tossing it to the ground, where it landed with a clatter. He got to his feet and dusted himself off, reaching for the golden oar he’d left propped against the prow of the boat. ‘What is it, Tobias? Secret gambling debts? Designer shoe addiction? Whatever you need the money for, maybe it’s time to confess to your wife. I’m sure she’ll come to your rescue, now that Darling House is—’

‘Worry about your own wife!’ Tobias’s cheeks had turned a blotchy purplish-pink, his brow glistening with sweat. ‘This isn’t a bluff, Rinaldi. If you don’t throw the trials, I WILL tell Modestine about your affair – and I have evidence to prove it!’

Dario began giggling, just like he and Modestine had done at the altar that afternoon.

‘What, you don’t believe me? I have PHOTOS of the pair of you together, you fool!’ Tobias sneered, his face turning redder by the second. ‘I even stole a pathetic, lovesick letter you carelessly left in your coat pocket one night at— Why are you laughing? ’

Dario was bent double now, practically howling. ‘Oh man … I really needed cheering up, Tobias, you have no idea. This has done me a world of good.’

‘This isn’t a JOKE, Rinaldi, I will go RIGHT NOW and tell—’

‘By all means,’ said Dario, wiping tears away. ‘Please, tell her everything. Tell her sisters while you’re at it! Good lord. Margot doesn’t trust you with anything, does she?’

‘What are you talking about?’ Tobias snapped.

‘Modestine knows all about Gigi and me, you silly man. She’s known since we were teenagers … almost as long as I’ve known about her and Sunny Ghoshal. Oh, you hadn’t clocked that one? Well, Sunny’s always been more discreet than me.’ He shook his head, still grinning. ‘Modestine and I were never in love; she’s my best friend . This whole wedding is a sham! A clever scheme concocted by Margot and Cosimo and enthusiastically signed off by my parents and your mother-in-law. The only real marriage that happened today was between Rinaldi House money and Darling House influence.’

‘I don’t – this is nonsense. Nonsense.’ Tobias squinted at Dario, shaking his head. He looked like he’d just been told Christmas was cancelled.

Dario sighed. ‘The deal is, Modestine and I get married, sealing an alliance in which the Rinaldis promise to use our considerable dragonsport wealth to dig Darling House out of its sinkhole of debt, which Margot and her parents have been hiding from the district for years … and in return, the Darlings promise to use their considerable voting power and social status to advance Rinaldi House into the Greater Circle at the next Silver Assembly. Not my idea of a fun time, but Cosimo’s very ambitious, and my parents have always had their sights set on joining the council. Modestine and I agreed to do it if we could end the marriage afterwards, once the dust settled. Then she could be with Sunny – a much better man than me, but a man from a Lesser House and without the gargantuan Rinaldi fortune to recommend him.’ He heaved another great sigh, hunching in on himself. ‘And I could … be with Gigi. Far away from here.’

The two men were silent for a moment. Dario stared out at the water again, presumably lost in miserable thoughts of his argument with Gigi, while Tobias frantically recalibrated his line of attack.

‘Fine,’ he muttered. ‘ Fine. If you won’t throw the trials, I’ll expose this … this Silver Assembly scheme to the district! I’ll go back to the wedding and make an announcement right now , so help me—’

‘Oh, don’t talk rubbish,’ Dario spat, whipping round to face him fully. ‘You’re not going to expose anything. I know you, Tobias. You may be a weak, deceitful, conniving scoundrel, but you do love your wife. You’re not about to let the truth about her come to light, are you?’

Tobias scoffed. ‘I’ll simply tell them it was all Rinaldi House’s scheming and Margot had nothing to do with it! I’ll tell them you’ve been cheating on poor Modestine all this time, taking advantage—’

‘I meant the other truth … Mr Clark.’ Tobias visibly paled, and Dario barked out a laugh. ‘We never had a DEAL, you idiot! I was playing with you. Did you really think I was going to let you try to blackmail me without getting my own back? I admit I didn’t exactly figure it out on my own. Had some help from an acquaintance of mine. I believe you know Mr Smithereens?’ He grinned. ‘Sorry, I meant … I believe you are owned by Mr Smithereens. Or at least Clark no idea why people hate him so much. I think he wanted me to know what sort of family I was marrying into, because recently he decided to tell me all about your little publishing enterprise. Clark the Guiltghast slipped from her Wundrous grasp over and over before finally zapping her so painfully she felt her skin burn. Shaking it off, she immediately tried again and yelled as she was zapped a second time, then a third.

Meanwhile a relentless showreel of secrets, lies and petty crimes flickered inside the Guiltghast’s body – forgeries and betrayals and torrid affairs and small acts of viciousness all set to a horrendous soundtrack of anguished screams. Some of the Guiltghast’s victims were quickly cast aside and managed to stumble away, their minor misdeeds barely offering a crumb.

Others provided heartier fare, like Lady Fortescue’s serial pilfering of valuable items from every house in the Silver District – a gold ashtray, a bejewelled letter opener, an emerald ring, a diamond-encrusted cat collar. After eating at least thirty of her crimes, the Guiltghast threw the woman on the ground, where she lay frighteningly still.

Next came Lord York, who kicked his hunting dogs until they yelped and mistreated his household staff and set his pet honey badger on his neighbours’ pet peacock, laughing viciously to himself as the blood and feathers flew … and then Lord York himself was thrown across the Receiving Room, where he hit the wall with a sickening crack and slid all the way to the floor, unmoving.

In desperation, Morrigan resorted to her Beauregard House strategy, picking up anything she could find and hurling it at the impervious Guiltghast until – forgetting her reach, forgetting everything Squall had taught her, forgetting even that she was a Wundersmith – she ran headfirst at the monster herself, only to bounce off it and land hard on her back.

Lifting her aching head, Morrigan felt desolation creep in. She tried to stand but her legs felt like sandcastles, ready to crumble.

How could she have been so catastrophically stupid ? She’d done exactly what Tobias had accused her of. She’d brought a monster to the Silver District, and it was going to kill them all.

The Guiltghast, finally finished with Aunt Margot, dropped her from a height. Morrigan felt her veins turn to ice. Time slowed to a crawl as she watched her aunt fall, arms and legs flailing, hair whipping around her head.

And then everything was still, and quiet.

The Guiltghast held its final victims aloft, frozen in time. Aunt Margot was suspended barely a metre from the ground, a microsecond from what was sure to be a fatal impact. The air was thick as molasses, a familiar feeling … and for seconds that felt like an eternity, all Morrigan could hear was her own rapid, rasping breaths and the pounding of her blood inside her ears.

Then a golden-white Gossamer bridge appeared from nowhere, building itself brick by brick. Ezra Squall’s brisk footsteps rang out like gunshots in the vast, silent room.

When he reached Morrigan he stared down at her, looking bored and furious.

‘Get up. We don’t have much time.’