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 Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Acknowledgements About the Author  For Merrianna  Everyone has secrets, do they not? Sometimes deep, sometimes dark, sometimes well-meaning or long forgotten – buried in hidden places. But secrets will sleep and bide their time. Because one day, sooner or later, they will wake – and there will be consequences. The secrets will come out to play. And those who patiently wait in the shadows, who watch from the windows, they gather the secrets. And soon … the game begins.  There was surely a point when life couldn’t get much stranger, but Nine wasn’t completely convinced she’d reached it yet. She narrowed her eyes and slowly, carefully, crouched down in the plum-carpeted hallway of the House at the Edge of Magic, facing the front door. The satchel she wore across her body brushed the carpet, her precious music box tinkling inside. Focus. Just like a cat, Nine was sighting her prey, stalking it quietly, ready to pounce at the right moment. She clenched her fists, stretched her fingers – her pre-pounce ritual. Nine glared at the little creature, which was almost within reach. It was the size of a small rat, with large, round eyes and a body that looked like a blue ball of wool. It sat back on its little hind legs, using its front legs to hold – and nibble – a prize of its own. A prize it had stolen from Nine’s plate. But not for long. Nine was on in three… Oh, she was going to get her flippin’ toast back. Two… If it was the last thing she did. One… Nine leapt forwards with the determined spring of an experienced pickpocket, her satchel flapping against her hip. But her target seemed equally determined and experienced. The creature gave an indignant squawk, hastily stuffed the toast in its mouth and scrambled away from Nine’s outstretched fingertips – as she landed face down on the carpet. Nine turned her head right to see the blue ball of wool on legs scurrying and leaping up the main staircase. “Oh no you don’t!” she cried, jumping to her feet and making a dash for the stairs. “Er … Madam,” came the voice of a young wizard from the other end of the hallway, “is everything under control?” “Yes, Flabberghast!” snapped Nine, as she half fell up the stairs, the little blue creature escaping her fingertips again. “Perfectly under control!” “Ah, good, marvellous,” said Flabberghast, his tone a little nervous. He wore indigo pyjamas, a pointy indigo hat and fluffy purple slippers and leaned against the kitchen doorframe. Nine leapt again at the creature, this time half falling down the stairs with a not-entirely-perfectly-under-control thump. The wizard twisted his mouth doubtfully. “I could simply request that Eric makes some more?” Nine scowled as the blue ball of wool scurried further up the stairs and onto the main landing. She turned her scowl to Flabberghast and pointed her finger at him. “Nobody,” she said, “steals my toast.” She leapt to her feet once more and hurtled up the plum-carpeted stairs. The many portraits of Flabberghast’s witch and wizard ancestors – all with the same flared nostrils and silvery-sparkling eyes – passed like a blur as Nine chased the creature to the main landing. When she arrived there, she scanned the area furiously. Dozens of doors of every size and shape dotted the walls. Some were reachable by criss-crossing staircases and landings, some by wooden ladders, and others appeared not to be reachable at all. The different floors were linked by a huge central spiral staircase with a rope handrail that snaked its way up to a distant ornately painted ceiling. “Where are you?” whispered Nine through gritted teeth. She saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Nine looked up to see the toilet giggling and hopping cheekily across a rickety landing. It had a frustrating habit of wandering about and disappearing, and – sure enough – Nine watched as a door opened and the toilet quickly hopped inside. She tutted and made a mental note of which door it was hiding behind in case she needed it later. Then came the sound of tiny, toast-stealing, scurrying feet. Nine’s gaze shot to the right: a wobbly flight of stairs, which led to a silver door decorated with a curious golden question mark. Her mother’s old bedroom. A cold piece of nibbled toast lay outside it, and a small blue ball of wool was now flattening itself almost entirely before sliding under the doorframe and disappearing into the room. “No! You are not going in there!” Nine ran to the stairs, her satchel thumping against her. She pounded up the steps so fast that they threatened to collapse. She thrust her hand out towards the iron ring handle that formed the dot of the question mark and twisted it sharply to the right. As she burst through the door, Nine noticed the faintly familiar scent and took a quick, deep breath – but there was no time to dwell on it. She glanced around the room, searching for the creature. Every wall had a narrow bookcase filled with books, and was painted a bold turquoise. Empty picture frames hung on the walls and an unticking golden clock sat silently on a shelf. A silver flash at the window beside the bed caught Nine’s attention. Outside, the blackness of the World Between Worlds was split by more flashes of silver strands, which rose, twisted together, and then exploded into fading stars. A little fanlight at the top of the window always stayed open – the window Nine had squeezed through once to get into the locked House. A window she had reached by