Page 39 of The House of Quiet

Chapter Thirty-Two

A Bird Conspiring

Birdie paces in the greenhouse, regretting her decision to let Arrow be the spy tonight.

She knows it made the most sense—Arrow has no connection to the minister of finance, unlike Birdie or even Forest. But it’s agonizing, waiting in here for Arrow to report back.

Worrying that maybe she won’t be able to report back.

When the tea showed up at dinner tonight, they were all taken by surprise. Another delivery, this soon? Or the minister, coming back already? They faked drinking it, and as soon as Cook retired to her room after locking the residents in, Birdie picked those locks to free River and Forest.

They sit on the bench in the dark, waiting with her.

“I could go out,” River whispers. “Pretend to be walking in my sleep or something.”

“We can’t draw attention.” Birdie’s wrestling with her own impulses, though.

Before, making decisions was easier. She always defaulted to her training.

But now she’s at war with herself. Because she wants to be in here with Forest—she always wants to be with Forest— and she wants to go out and help Arrow.

She understands why Forest said what he did, and she’s grateful, but supper tonight was the first time she realized just how dangerous it makes things. Because when Cook told her to pass out the tea, Birdie almost said no.

She can’t say no to things like that. Not if she wants to keep her job here. And she does want that. For now.

Forest reaches out as Birdie stalks past, brushing his hand against her apron. She grasps the tips of his fingers and squeezes them to reassure him, or herself, or both of them. But she can’t stop pacing.

At last the door opens and shuts as quietly as Arrow can manage.

“Well?” Birdie hisses.

Arrow hurries over to them, crossly slapping away errant plant fronds.

“It was just one person in the coach. Looks a little older than us. His clothes were nice, though, and his hair was very—” She gestures around her head, movements that could be interpreted as indicating his hair had a lot of body and lift, or it was on fire.

Birdie assumes the former. The style in Sootcity right now among the wealthy families is for men to have their hair straightened and then curled, so piles of ringlets sit atop their heads like pampered pets.

She’s glad Forest isn’t stylish, because she’s never been able to take anyone with that hair seriously.

“Another resident,” River sighs, disappointed. She grabs Arrow’s hand and pulls her to sitting so they’re practically on top of each other. River wraps her arms around Arrow’s waist, and Arrow tips her head against River’s shoulder.

It makes Birdie happy. They deserve that connection. And she’s so glad she’s not alone in this anymore. She’s been alone for so long. They all have. No wonder they bonded so firmly, so quickly, even with all the secrets putting up walls between them.

When the whole world tells you you’ll never matter, people who truly see you are family, regardless of where you all started.

“Cook and the driver had a conversation, but it was hard to hear. There’s another delivery in a week, but I think they’re plotting something. She’s upset. She doesn’t want the house to shut down and get moved.”

“Of course she’s upset,” Birdie says. “She’ll lose an easy job where no one watches or cares what she’s doing.”

Arrow shakes her head. “It felt like more than that. She was crying so hard she could barely breathe.”

Interesting. “She didn’t care that Rabbit died. What would break her like that?”

“The driver’s name is Beetle, right?” River asks. “What does he look like?”

“A stupid old man,” Arrow says grouchily.

“Could you be more specific?”

With a sigh, Arrow ticks off a few traits. “Skinny arms and legs, round stomach, heavy jawline, receding hair, pale skin, murky blue eyes.”

“I’ve seen him!” River says, so excited she stands, nearly dumping Arrow onto the floor.

“When?” Birdie asks.

“In Cook’s dreams. She’s always dreaming about picnicking in a field with him and a little girl. I think they’re married.”

“That explains the flowers in the kitchen,” Arrow says.

“Exactly!” River claps her hands together once. “So if the house closes, they both lose their jobs.”

It’s an explanation, but Birdie’s certain they’re still missing something. It doesn’t matter, though. She doesn’t care a bit about the fate of Cook or Beetle, knowing how callous they were about Rabbit’s death. Knowing it wasn’t the first body they’d deposited into the bog.

“So what’s our next move?” Birdie asks.

“We all know what our next move is,” Arrow says, her voice bladed.

“No,” Birdie snaps. She reaches for Forest’s hand once more and holds it, letting him know she’s on his side, no matter what.

River turns up one of the gas lamps on the wall, giving them a soft glow. “No one will notice it unless they come around to this side of the house. We need to see each other clearly for this conversation.”

Arrow’s still focused on Birdie. When did Birdie become the person in charge? It’s so absurd she could laugh, but nothing feels funny right now.

Arrow jabs a finger toward Forest. “All he has to say is ‘Let them in’ or ‘Stay out here’ or even ‘Tell us all the secrets of the House of Quiet,’ and the House Wife won’t be able to stop herself.”

“You don’t know that.” Birdie understands Arrow’s frustration.

She also knows firsthand how unexpected the results of Forest’s commands can be.

This afternoon she didn’t clean a single bathroom, because she didn’t want to.

Which, for one day, is fine. But the long-term consequences of being a maid who does only what she wants are dire.

They need to move fast. Both because the clock is ticking on the minister’s return, but also because Birdie doesn’t know how much longer she’ll be able to keep up the ruse of who she used to be.

It’s not Forest’s fault. His intentions were good. But intentions don’t matter when it comes to power like his.

Unfortunately, the nuances of Forest’s ability don’t matter to Arrow. She folds her arms and narrows her eyes. “Yes, well, unless Forest can give me a compelling reason why it won’t work, I say that’s our best plan.”

Forest stares at Arrow, and Birdie wonders how she can be unmoved by the incredible sorrow in his bright blue eyes.

He reaches into his pocket—as always, he’s wearing soft wool trousers and a crisp button-down shirt, because he can’t be ready to help Birdie at a moment’s notice if he’s in something as vulnerable as nightclothes—and pulls out a drawing pad.

He quickly sketches something and then holds it out.

“Lake?” Arrow asks. “Why do we need Lake? She can barely walk through doorways; I don’t think she’ll be much help. And we can’t pull the ‘Lake is missing’ trick again. Cook will get wise tous.”

Forest shakes his head and points again to his drawing of Lake.

River takes over before Arrow loses all patience. “She told you something, didn’t she? Something she saw?”

Forest nods. He turns to a clean page and quickly sketches. This drawing is rougher, the hurried lines harsh and upsetting. A skull.

River sits on the bench next to Arrow. “Someone dies.”

Forest cuts his eyes toward Birdie, then looks back at Arrow, desperate pleading in his gaze. Birdie sighs. She wasn’t going to tell Arrow this part, but apparently Forest wants them all on the same side. Or at least, he wants Arrow and River on his side.

River slaps her head in understanding. “ That’s why you didn’t let Birdie finish searching the House Wife’s room. Because Lake told you Birdie dies in there.”

“I wasn’t aware you were fluent in Forest,” Arrow grumbles. “But here’s the good news. I’m not Birdie. Forest does his voice thing on the House Wife, I go in, all our problems are solved.”

“We have to be cautious,” Birdie says. The words are like pulling teeth, and once again that sense of the whole world being tipped onto its side comes back.

Because being cautious has always been her default, and now she has to force herself to care.

“I know you’re impatient—I am, too—but once our cover is blown, we’re never getting back in. ”

“We have time.” River’s voice is soft. She leans against Arrow, taking her hand. “There aren’t any children from the north here right now. Not upstairs, and not hidden back there somewhere. I know all the dreams in this house, so I know all the dreamers.”

“No children? No others at all?” Birdie lets go of her last remaining hope, that somehow Magpie was back there, behind that door.

That maybe there was still an easy reunion to be had.

She knows it’s irrational, but it’s what she wants.

And she’s entirely made of want now. Birdie drops to a crouch, presses her face against her knees, and screams.

Forest’s hand comes down gently onto her back, and he leaves it there until she comes back up for air.

River shifts uncomfortably, alarmed at Birdie’s demonstration of rage, but Birdie doesn’t care.

“I’m certain there aren’t groups of hidden children,” River says.

“But I can’t quite account for every single dream.

There’s one—I don’t—I don’t like it.” She shudders.

“It’s a red circle, like the window outside.

Usually I see the dreamer in the dream, or at least have a sense of them, but in that one, it’s like—it’s like the dream exists without a dreamer. ”

Arrow offers the most likely explanation. “It’s the House Wife. Nothing about her is normal.”

“It’s probably the House Wife,” River agrees with a sorry expression. “Oh. Oh! When I fell asleep on the sofa. I thought it would be peaceful because everyone was awake. But I still dreamed of the red window. I can’t imagine the House Wife was asleep then.”

“There’s still a chance someone else is here,” Birdie says, hand in a fist over her heart like she can calm it that way.

Arrow points to Forest, seizing her opportunity. “Which means we go back to my plan. He tells the House Wife to let me find the third floor.”

Forest looks pained. Birdie shakes her head. “It’s dangerous. He—”

“Do you want to find your sister or not?”

“Of course I do,” Birdie snaps. “But if she’s here, she’s not going anywhere. We can afford to be careful.”

“We can’t afford anything! You saw what happened to Rabbit. There’s no time to waste. And this is so much bigger than your sister, anyway. This is connected to the suffering of my entire country. I’m sorry if I can’t be patient .”

River puts a hand on her arm, but not even River can keep her here. Arrow storms out.

Birdie’s always been opposed to harming others. But thinking of the House Wife, of Rabbit’s lifeless body, of the names and the poem carved into the wall upstairs, that changes at last. She doesn’t care what the consequences might be to the House Wife’s mind.

Birdie can’t look at Forest, because she doesn’t want to see the hurt in his eyes, and, thanks to him, she does what she wants now. “If we don’t come up with something else by tomorrow night, we do Arrow’s plan.”