The Crims #2
Page 20
Imogen’s phone beeped before Delia could reply: an Instagram alert. Ava had posted more pictures of Japan, mostly of her dressed in anime costumes—as a demon, as a massive rabbit, and as a schoolgirl with an offensive weapon, which wasn’t much of a stretch for Ava. Imogen showed them to Delia.
Delia shuddered. “I don’t know why you follow her. I never want to see her or her creepy family ever again.”
Imogen ignored Delia and quickly liked Ava’s photos—if she didn’t, there was always the risk that Ava would think that she was passively-aggressively not liking them on purpose and send an assassin to her house. It had already happened once. Fortunately, Imogen was able to prove that her phone’s battery was dead, and she simply hadn’t seen the photo of Ava dressed as an angry (yet somehow cute) potato. I wonder if I’ll ever see Ava again in real life, she wondered. She sort of missed her. . . .
And that’s when there was a knock at the door.
“I’ll get it!” called Big Nana from upstairs.
Imogen and Delia walked into the hallway behind her to see who it was.
Big Nana opened the front door—but there was no one there.
“My friend Invisible Mike must be up to his old tricks again,” said Big Nana—and then she looked down, and gasped.
Sitting on the doorstep was a large poodle with a bow tied around its neck.
The dog gave a little bark and jumped up to lick Big Nana’s face. And then it trotted into the living room, sat back on its hind legs, opened its mouth wide, and projected a hologram onto the wall.
It was another robot dog . . . which could only mean one thing . . .
The hologram showed someone sitting in a high-tech office chair—someone with a glossy ponytail. The chair swiveled around, and there, smiling at them, stroking a sinister-looking white cat, was Ava Kruk.
“Hi!” said Ava, waving to them. “Or as we say in Japan, konnichiwa!” She held the white cat up toward them. “This is Mittens. I stole him from the cat café. He’s a Siamese attack cat. Isn’t he adorable?”
Mittens was not adorable. Mittens was terrifying.
Delia shook her head. “I’m getting out of here,” she said, and ran upstairs to her room.
Ava pouted. “I don’t know why Delia’s never liked me. All I’ve ever been is kind to her. Except when I helped kidnap her, obviously. . . .”
“How are things with your family?” Big Nana asked tentatively. “The last time we saw you, things were looking a bit . . . tense.”
“Oh, that was nothing, really,” said Ava, shrugging. “Just a little tiff. The boys always get the machetes and sharks out when we have an argument.”
“So Elsa is still alive?” Big Nana asked carefully. It seemed unlikely.
“Oh yes,” said Ava. “She decided to get out of town for a while until things cool down a bit. She says she’s gone on a spiritual quest, whatever that means. She’s tracked down the author of Ten Little Mice in the Woods, and she’s persuading her to write a sequel.”
“How lovely,” said Imogen, who had a horrible feeling that “persuading” meant “tying her to a chair and threatening her with a machine gun.”
“So Elsa’s not in charge of the family anymore?” Big Nana asked.
“No,” said Ava, sitting up in her chair. “Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Uncle Dedrik’s taken over, and the family’s totally changing. We’re becoming a bit less Bond villain—though obviously we all still wear expensive Italian clothes, and drive nice cars, and swivel around in chairs with fluffy white cats on our laps.” She stroked Mittens, who hissed at her and bared his teeth. “We’re on a diversity drive—we commit equal-opportunity crimes against everyone, no matter their race, gender, sexuality, or age. And we want to make the Kruk family itself more inclusive, too.” She smiled at Imogen and Big Nana. “I’m glad Delia’s gone—because you two are the ones I really wanted to talk to. I saw a lot of potential in you, Imogen. And you too, Big Nana. So I have a proposition for you: Would you like to join the Kruks? Rejoin, really, in your case,” she said, nodding to Big Nana.
Imogen felt a jolt of excitement. Or was it fear? She caught Big Nana’s eye. It was fair to say they hadn’t been expecting this.
“What do you think?” Ava said. “You guys would be rich. And you’d have real power. And you’d get to travel the world. Did you know there’s a community of people in Peru who have never experienced a single armed robbery? We can help change that! Plus, I’m going to run the Kruks one day, and I’ll need good people by my side. By which I mean, walking three paces behind me.”
A few weeks ago, Imogen would never have dreamed of joining the Kruks. But she liked Ava. And she liked being the best at things. And there was no doubt that the Kruks were the very best at crime. . . .
“By ‘good people’ I mean you guys,” Ava said. “Just in case that wasn’t clear.”
“That’s very flattering,” said Big Nana. “Almost as flattering as that lovely Italian dress you’re wearing, Ava.”
“You like it? It’s Armani.”
“I can tell,” said Big Nana. “But . . . what about the other Crims?”
Ava gave a sad little smile. “I was afraid you’d ask that,” she said. “Not actually afraid, obviously—I’m not afraid of anything, except this really scary movie I watched the other day, which involved a beautiful woman and a needle and an eyeball. Japanese horror is weird! The thing is, we really don’t have any use for the other Crims.”
“Nobody does,” Big Nana said sadly.
“I’m sure we could find a way to keep them busy, though,” said Ava. “Don Vadrolga can’t do all the silver polishing on his own. And I wondered whether Josephine would like to head up the Kruk Repertory Theater Company? Plus, there are always people who need murdering—that should keep Aunt Bets busy.”
Part of Imogen longed to say yes to Ava’s offer—but the rest of her, the best bit of her, knew that she could never abandon her family. She caught Big Nana’s eye—and both of them shook their heads.
“It’s a really tempting offer,” Imogen said.
“But no thank you,” said Big Nana. “If the last few months have taught me anything, other than the fact that children’s books can be very dangerous in the wrong hands, it’s that I’m a Crim now. Not a Kruk.”
“Me too,” said Imogen.
“Even if that means you have to stay in Blandington for the rest of your life?” Ava asked.
“Even that,” said Imogen, though she felt a sudden rush of horror at the thought of it.
Ava shrugged. “Fine,” she said, ruffling Mittens behind his ears. “As long as you understand that you’re either with us or against us. Like, I can’t imagine I’ll ever want to go back to Blandington.” She shuddered. “There’s only so long you can stay in a town that only sells cheese pizza. But I can’t promise you’ll be safe if you don’t join us.”
“I’m not worried,” said Big Nana.
I am, thought Imogen. But a bit of fear is good motivation. She was going to take her crime homework much more seriously from now on—and she was going to make sure the rest of the Crims took it seriously too.
“Okay, then!” said Ava. “See you! Wouldn’t want to be you! If you know what I mean . . .” She gave a little wave—and the hologram flashed off.
Imogen grabbed the robot poodle, which had started to chase its tail, and flicked off the button under its ear before it could start spying on them. “Well,” she said to Big Nana. “That just happened.”
“Yes,” said Big Nana. “It did.”
Imogen felt a slow dread creep up from her stomach. Had they made the right decision? Was it really worth it, turning down a life of success and money to stay with the rest of the family, who were mostly extremely irritating, especially when they were awake?
Big Nana turned to Imogen and squeezed her hand. “You don’t need to worry, my buttered crumpet,” she said. “We fought off the Kruks’ attack. And if we can do something like that, w
hich involved too many piranhas and a surprising number of very high-quality sacks, we can do anything—when we work together.”
Imogen felt a bit better. “You’re right,” she said.
“Of course I am,” said Big Nana. “Come here.” She opened her arms for a hug. She smelled comfortingly of lemon drizzle cake and gunpowder.
Imogen suddenly felt really tired, which wasn’t surprising considering the number of extremely high-stakes decisions she’d had to make in the past few weeks. “’Night, Big Nana,” she said.
She smiled to herself as she walked upstairs. She was home, safe—for now—in Crim House, and there was nowhere she would rather be.
Despite everything . . . she was proud to be a Crim.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks, as always, to my brilliant writing friends Sarah Courtauld and Zanna Davidson. Writing wouldn’t be nearly as much fun without them.
And very many thanks to the wonderful editors at Working Partners and HarperCollins, particularly Stephanie Lane Elliot, Conrad Mason, Samantha Noonan, and Erica Sussman.
Thanks, also, to my wife, Victoria, for making the porridge in the morning when I’m writing.
And thank you to porridge for being so delicious.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
PHOTO BY LYNTON PEPPER
KATE DAVIES lives in London, where she writes children’s books, performs improv comedy, and spends too much money on cheese. She also edits other people’s children’s books and she once worked at Buckingham Palace, selling tea towels to tourists. She never met the queen, but she did get to stroke a corgi once.
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BOOKS BY KATE DAVIES
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COPYRIGHT
THE CRIMS #2: DOWN WITH THE CRIMS! Copyright © 2018 by Working Partners Ltd. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
www.harpercollinschildrens.com
COVER ART © 2018 BY MAI LY DEGNAN
COVER DESIGN BY SARAH NICHOLE KAUFMAN
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018946002
Digital Edition DECEMBER 2018 ISBN: 978-0-06-249414-6
Print ISBN: 978-0-06-249413-9
1819202122CG/LSCH10987654321
FIRST EDITION
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