Free Griffin of Darkwood by Becky Citra

doubt,” said Vespera. “A rainbow indeed. Have you been up to mischief, Macavity?”
    Macavity contemplated his mistress with his slanted green eyes. They slowly turned a soft violet.
    “There!” said Will. “See?”
    “He’s showing off,” said Vespera. “Now you come back, William Poppy. You don’t mind if I call you William, do you? It’s a rare treat to find someone to talk to about writing. And try not to worry about your tea leaves.”
    < • >

    When Will got back to the castle, he went to the kitchen and asked Mrs. Cherry for a bucket of water and a rag. He tried to scrub the words GO AWAY off the front door, but it was no use. The letters blurred together but stubbornly refused to disappear. You could still tell what they said. How could anyone hate them that much? It didn’t make any sense.
    That night, he found some matches in the dining room and four saucers for candlesticks. He melted a blob of wax on each saucer, and stuck candles in all four and set them on the ledges in the tower wall. The lit candles cast long flickering shadows on the stone birds. He thought about the word adversity . He opened his trunk and took out his thesaurus and looked it up.
    “Difficulty, ordeal, hard times, ill wind, evil day, curse,” he read out loud.
    Curse! What if Vespera had made a mistake? What if he wasn’t going to triumph? He stored the word adversity in his brain where he kept interesting words and then lay on his back on the bed and stared at the sparrowhawks. Who had carved them? He read for a while and then glanced at the candles. They burned brightly and looked just as tall as when he first lit them. Were they magic candles?
    He thought about the weaver Morgan Moonstone, the tiles that changed from a rainbow to stars, Macavity’s amazing eyes, Mr. Tumnus in the bookstore and the strange light that glowed in the pencil box. And now the candles. There was magic all around him. He put the thesaurus back in his trunk and picked up the writing book with the emerald cover, feeling an ache deep inside. Then he put the book back too.
    Favian had said, “Once a writer, always a writer.” He was wrong. Will knew he would never write again.
    < • >

    In the morning, he went straight to Thom’s flat. He knocked on the door and Thom opened it, holding a half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich. John Fairweather was busy at his loom. “Hello, Will. Are you hungry? Thom has told me about Mrs. Cherry’s cooking.”
    “Starving,” said Will.
    “Come on in the kitchen and I’ll make you a pb and j sandwich,” offered Thom.
    While they were eating, John wheeled into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee.
    “I need to find out more about the griffin’s curse,” said Will. “Was there really a griffin?”
    John sighed. “I suppose Thom and Emma told you about the girl who died in the castle.”
    Will nodded.
    “Well, I hope they didn’t alarm you. It happened years and years ago.”
    “Who was she?”
    “Hannah Linley. Hundreds of years ago the king gave the Linleys the castle as a reward for good service. Over the years there have been a great many Lord Linleys.”
    “Hannah’s grave is in the Linley graveyard,” said Thom.
    “Hannah was my dad’s cousin,” said John, “but I never knew her. She died before I was born. I’ve been told she was like Thom. She felt the suffering of animals. Her mother was a Fairweather who worked as a maid in the castle. Her father was Lord Linley. It must have caused quite a scandal. Hannah was brought up in the castle.”
    John took a sip of coffee. “Hannah inherited her gift with animals from the Fairweathers. When you read the dates on her gravestone, you realize she was no older than you when she died.”
    “Favian told me he had a friend called Hannah,” said Will, “but he never told me she died. What happened to her?”
    “She was very ill. I don’t know anything else. It was forty years ago. Lord and Lady Linley left after she died and