Free Quest for the Secret Keeper by Victoria Laurie

children search for him too. And a woman. Separate from the children, but with a close connection to this Secret Keeper all the same.”
    Caphiera and Atroposa exchanged meaningful looks. “You say the Keeper will appear in Paris within the week?” Caphiera asked.
    The witch nodded vigorously. Of that she was certain.
    “Then I trust that it will not be too much of an inconvenience for you to postpone your visit to your niece,” the sorceress said easily.
    The witch caught herself before a protest could leave her throat. She knew that to refuse either of these women would surely lead to death. Still, she couldn’t help attempting to argue a little. “Kind mistresses,” she began. “Surely I would only be a burden to your quest? An old woman like me would slow you down. And both of you are certainly clever enough to discover the Secret Keeper on your own. My second sight confirms it!”
    But Caphiera was far too intelligent to fall for the guise. “You will accompany us, witch, and when you locate the Keeper, be grateful that we will allow you to live.”
    The witch thought of something just then, part of a vision she’d already had in fact. She pretended to give a small gasp as she peered into her crystal. “Oh, my!” she said.
    “What is it?” Atroposa demanded.
    The witch made a bit of a show of looking alarmed. “It’s the Germans, mistresses! They will invade Paris on the daythe Keeper arrives! Oh, I fear for both of you if the Germans should encounter such powerful women! What they would try to do to you! The horror!” And with that the witch fell out of her chair and onto the floor, pretending to faint from the awful image.
    “What’s happened to her?” she heard Atroposa moan.
    Caphiera’s silver boots clinked loudly on the cement floor as the sorceress approached. In the next instant the witch was kicked soundly in the stomach, and she gave a sharp cry as the air was thrust right out of her. “I thought she might be faking,” Caphiera snapped.
    The witch rolled onto her knees and worked to pump the air back into her lungs, all the while silently cursing herself for not getting to the train station ten minutes sooner.
    “When she recovers,” said Caphiera to her sister, moving over to lift the witch’s crystal ball from its pedestal, “bring her along.”
    A few moments later—well before the witch had recovered her normal breathing pattern—her arm was gripped as if by a vise and she was dragged from the flat, leaving all her other possessions behind.

A DREADFUL NIGHT
    A s the party walked across the downs toward Castle Dover—the earl having left his motorcar at the keep because they couldn’t all fit in it and Argos had eyed the thing as if it were a small monster—Ian took in the earl’s posture. He had seen how weary the earl had been of late; he had so much to worry about with the news from the front lines always seeming to be terrible. Their forces were in full retreat at present, and Ian knew the earl was especially worried about an invasion from the sea.
    To top all that, the earl’s dear headmistress was clinging to life, and the earl had just learned that another close friend had recently been taken captive by the enemy.
    Ian couldn’t fathom what kind of a toll that took on a man, but he suspected it was great. Beside him Theo let out a gasp, spinning round to stare at the keep, which, Ian could see over his shoulder, was aglow with soft lights from the inside.
    “Theo?” Ian said, knowing she was having one of her visions.
    But Theo seemed not to hear him. Instead, she let out a bloodcurdling scream, cried out,
“Madam!”
and dashed off down the hill, running as fast as her feet could carry her.
    Ian was too stunned to understand fully what had just happened, and a moment later he felt Carl’s hand on his arm. “It must be Madam Dimbleby!” Carl said.
    Ian closed his eyes and whispered, “No!” as a terrible ache settled firmly into his chest. He opened his eyes,