Wren, running in from the garden on her mission for Shkin, barely noticed any of it. But as she darted past the film room toward the spiral staircase that would take her up to Pennyroyal’s office, she almost collided with Theo, who was coming in the other direction, clutching his ostrich-feather fan. He wore baggy silver trousers and a pair of silver angel’s wings.
“Hello,” said Wren. “What’s the wing thing about?”
Theo shrugged, and his wings flapped. “All the boys are dressed like this. Boo-Boo’s idea. Horrible, isn’t it?”
“Vile,” agreed Wren, though secretly she thought he looked rather fetching.
“Look,” he said, “this idea that Boo-Boo’s got about us—”
“It’s all right,” said Wren. “I don’t fancy you either.”
“Good.”
“Good.” She was glad he was there, though, and she didn’t want to part from him. She thought how much easier it would be to burgle Pennyroyal’s safe if she had an accomplice.
Especially an accomplice like Theo, who had been in battles and was probably ten times braver than herself.
“Look,” she said, “I’ve got to do something…”
“Another escape attempt?”
“No. I’ve got to take something from Pennyroyal’s safe.”
“What? After what happened to that antique dealer?” Theo stared at her, waiting for her to admit that it was all a joke. When she didn’t, he said, “It’s that book thing, isn’t it? That metal book?”
“The Tin Book of Anchorage,” Wren said. “Shkin sent Plovery for it, and now that Plovery’s dead, he’s sending me.”
“Why?” asked Theo. “What’s so important about it?”
Wren shrugged. “All I know is that everybody seems to want it… I think it might have something to do with submarines, but…” She paused uneasily. Maybe she shouldn’t be telling Theo this. He was Green Storm, after all, or had been once. But she was glad she had. She touched his arm. “He’s got my dad at the Pepperpot, and if I don’t do what he asks, he… I don’t know what he’ll do. Will you help me?”
She did know, of course; she just didn’t want to say it. She felt glad that she had Theo to confide in.
“Your dad?’ he asked. “I didn’t know Lost Girls had fathers…”
“I’m not really a Lost Girl,” said Wren. “Just mislaid. I told Pennyroyal I came from Grimsby because… Oh, Theo, it’s too complicated to explain. I just have to save Dad!”
She could tell that he understood. He looked scared and serious. “But if the safe’s booby-trapped…” he said.
“That’s why I want you to keep a lookout. Please, Theo. I don’t want to go in there alone.”
“I’m supposed to be on duty in the ballroom. Boo-Boo’s orders.”
“Boo-Boo’s having a wonderful time. She won’t notice if we sneak off for five minutes.”
Theo thought about it, then nodded. “All right. All right.”
Gripping his fan like a battle-axe, he followed Wren up some stairs and through a door at the top into an antique-lined corridor. The noise of the party faded as the door swung softly shut behind them, then dipped again as the corridor turned sharply to the left. Creeping past the door to the control-room stairs, they heard the faint voices of the crewmen chatting at their stations down below, but there were no other sounds. Everyone else was busy in the ballroom or the kitchens, and this part of the Pavilion was deserted.
They reached the end of the corridor and stopped, staring at Pennyroyal’s office door.
“What if he changed the combination of his safe after last night?” whispered Theo. “What if he’s changed the locks on the door?”
Wren hadn’t thought of that. She prayed that Pennyroyal hadn’t either. Her groping fingers quickly found the spare key, still hidden in the vase. At first it didn’t seem to fit the lock, but that was only because her hands were trembling so badly. After she spent a few moments swearing and fumbling, the lock snicked and she turned the handle and pushed open the door.
The office looked peaceful and safe. The Walmart Strange drawing was back in its place on the wall. Wren went to it and took it carefully off its hook, laying it down on the desk. Theo followed her into the office and quietly closed the door, then almost knocked a statue off its pedestal with his fan.
“Couldn’t you have left that stupid thing outside?” she hissed.
“What, where someone might see it lying about?”
Wren turned to the safe. “Ready?” she asked.
Theo didn’t look ready. “You think there’s a booby trap inside the safe?” he said.
Wren shook her head. “The safe was open last night, remember, and I didn’t see anything booby-trappish in there.” All the same, she made sure that she was standing well to one side as she reached for the dial. “Mr. Plovery opened the safe and got the book out. That’s when something got him. Now hush.” She frowned, remembering the combination. Two-two, oh-nine, nine-five-seven…
As the dial clicked and the tumblers inside the lock chunked and grated, Theo turned slowly around, looking for hidden dangers. There was nowhere much in this small room that a trap could be concealed. The objects on the desk looked innocent enough—a blotter, a few pens, a photograph of Boo-Boo in a heavy black frame. There was a teak filing cabinet against the far wall, a picture hanging above it, and above that just a lot of architectural curlicues and the high, shadowy dome of the ceiling and…
Was it just his eyes playing tricks, or was something moving up there?
“Wren—” he said.
Wren had the safe door open. She reached in and drew out a battered black case. “Got it.”
“Wren!” Theo shoved her, knocking her sideways. She dropped the case, and had an impression as she fell of something white whirring past her. A blade struck the open door of the safe, hard enough to throw off sparks. Whatever it was scrabbled, turned, and came flapping at her as she sprawled on the floor. Wren glimpsed ragged wings, a curved steel beak, a glow of green eyes. Then Theo’s fan batted the thing sideways, slamming it hard against the wall. Wren heard something break. The flapping thing fell on the floor and kept on flapping, flailing small clawed feet like bunches of razors. Theo smacked at it with his fan. Whimpering, Wren groped across the desk, found the picture of Boo-Boo, and smashed it down hard on the creature’s head.
Theo helped Wren up. “All right?’ he asked shakily.
“I think so. You?”
“Yes.”
For a while after that, they didn’t speak. Theo’s arms were still around Wren, and her face was pressed against his shoulder. It was a nice shoulder, warm, with a pleasant smell, and she would have liked to stay like that for longer, but she made herself step away from him, shaking her head hard to clear away all the distracting thoughts that were trying to roost there. Feathers floated about in the moonlight.
“What was it?” she asked, nervously prodding the dead bird thing with her toe.
“A raptor,” said Theo. “A Resurrected bird. I thought only the Storm used them. It must have been set to keep watch on the safe.”
“How do you think old Pennyroyal got hold of it?” Wren wondered.
Theo shook his head, puzzled and worried. “Maybe it’s not Pennyroyal’s.”
“That’s silly,” said Wren. “Who else would want to guard his safe?” She picked up the black case and opened it. Inside, the Tin Book glinted faintly in the firework light from outside. It looked as dull as ever. It was hard to believe that it had caused so much trouble. She looked at Theo. “You go,” she told him. “I’ll tidy this place up and then find Shkin.”