Charlie Bone and the Blue Boa

by Jenny Nimmo

  Charlie knew he was in serious trouble but he still had an urge to giggle.

  "I didn't think it was you, Zelda," the headmaster said coldly "I'm well aware that that kind of thing is quite beyond you."

  Zelda reddened. She glared down at the line of younger children and said, "I think it's Tancred, sir."

  "I do storms," Tancred retorted angrily "Weather."

  "Wind can make bells ring, skies darken, frogs rain," said Manfred.

  "Not elephants!" cried Tancred, whose hair crackled violently His green cape lifted and a blast of cold air blew a pile of papers off the desk.

  "CONTROL YOURSELF!" roared Dr. Bloor.

  Tancred gritted his teeth, and Dorcas Loom began to gather the papers, putting them, one by one, onto the desk.

  "I know who is capable and who is not," said Dr. Bloor. "But I want a confession. Do you understand my position?" He got up and began to pace behind his desk. "The people of this city know that I harbor children with unusual, and in some cases" — he glanced at Asa Pike — "undesirable talents. They tolerate you because they respect me. We are the oldest family in this city We can trace our ancestry back for nearly a thousand years." He gestured toward the bookcases. "These walls have witnessed alchemy, hypnotism, divination, metamorphosis, magic of unimaginable splendor, shape-shifting, and even" — he coughed and lowered his voice — "apparitions."

  All at once Dr. Bloor stopped pacing and swung around to face his victims. "But never, never, never" — he raised his voice — "NEVER have the events in this building impinged upon the city Never have the citizens had to suffer for our — peculiarities. But now," he banged his fist on the desk and bellowed, "all at once day has turned to night, bulls have run rampant, bells have gone berserk. Can you imagine what it's like out there, in the city?" He flung a hand toward the window "The danger, the chaos. There have been more traffic accidents in ten minutes than in a whole year. The mayor was on the phone to me immediately Oh, he knows very well where the trouble is coming from."

  "I think we know too, sir," said a voice.

  Everyone turned to look at Belle. She gave a wide smile and her eyes changed to a brilliant emerald green. She said, "It's Charlie Bone. Isn't it, Charlie?"

  Charlie's mouth went dry He felt slightly queasy "I don't know,” he mumbled.

  "Liar," said Manfred.

  "Coward," hissed Zelda.

  Asa gave an unpleasant snort.

  "You can go," said Dr. Bloor, dismissing them all with a wave of his hand.

  Surprised by the sudden turn of events, the eleven children turned to the door, but before Charlie could reach it, the headmaster added, "Not you, Charlie Bone."

  Gabriel threw Charlie a look of sympathy as Manfred pushed him through the door after the others. And then Charlie was alone with Dr. Bloor. The headmaster paced again, finally sinking into his large leather chair and clasping his hands together on a sheaf of papers lying on the desk. He gave a sigh of exasperation and declared, 'You are very stupid, Charlie Bone. I had my doubts, but when I saw you all, standing there, it didn't take me long to identify the culprit. I gave you a chance to confess.You should have taken it."

  “Yes, well . . . but I didn't . . . " began Charlie.

  “You idiot!" roared Dr. Bloor. "Do you think I don't know what you can do? I'm well aware of the painting you can — enter. I know about the 'person' whom you have so carelessly let out. Who else could cause this mayhem? There's obviously a sorcerer on the loose, and I want to know what you intend to do about it!"

  "Um — find him?" Charlie suggested.

  “And how are you going to do that?"

  "Er — look for him?" said Charlie.

  "Oh, brilliant!" said Dr. Bloor sarcastically "Well done!" He raised his voice. "If this nonsense hasn't stopped by nine o'clock tomorrow, then it will be very much the worse for you."

  "In what way sir?" asked Charlie, clearing his throat.

  "I'll let you know'' said the headmaster. 'Your famous relations assured me that you would be an asset to this school, but so far you've been nothing but trouble. They're very disappointed and I'm sure they'll approve of any punishment I choose — even if they have to lose you forever."

  Charlie shuddered. He thought of his father, permanently lost, unreachable, unknown. "Yes, sir," he said. "Can I go now and start looking?"

  'You'd better. You haven't got long," came the grim reply

  Charlie whisked himself through the door as speedily as he could. Once in the corridor, however, he decided not to return the way he had come but to walk farther into the Bloors' intriguing quarters. Eventually he hoped, he would find a staircase leading to the attics. For that was surely where Skarpo must be hiding, among the cobwebs and eerie, empty rooms.

  Charlie trod softly over the rich carpeting in the corridor. He passed dark oak-paneled doors, portraits in gilt frames (these he avoided looking at), shelves crammed with dusty books, a collection of small skeletons in a glass case, and the head of a bear mounted on a wooden shield. "Gruesome," Charlie muttered and hastened on, beneath the stuffed birds and bunches of dried herbs suspended from hooks in the ceiling.

  He reached the end of the corridor and climbed a narrow stairway to the second floor. Here, a brief glimpse showed him a shadowy passage where, in the distance, something horrible like a coffin stood upright against the wall.

  Charlie hurried up the next staircase, this one uncarpeted and creaky At the top he found himself entering the airless, gaslit passage that he and Emma had passed through on their way to find Ollie. The steps to the attic were halfway down, he remembered.

  A sound drifted toward him: music. Not Mr. Pilgrim's fine piano-playing but a brass band, accompanied by a harsh, quavering voice. Charlie stopped and listened. There was no mistaking the voice. Old Ezekiel obviously lived in this gloomy region of the house.

  Charlie cautiously crept forward until he reached the stairs that led to the attic. He had climbed several steps when something made him glance upward. There, at the top, something gleamed: a coil of thick, silvery-blue rope. But, of course, it wasn't rope. Charlie could now make out a faint pattern of scales.

  Sensing Charlie's presence, a head lifted from the coil, a flattish triangle with black eyes and strange markings across the top. Strangest of all were the thin blue feathers sprouting from its neck. All at once a hiss, like a gas explosion, erupted from the creature's wide mouth.

  Charlie backed away missed his footing, and tumbled down into the passage, landing on all fours. As the hissing snake began to glide down the steps, Charlie picked himself up and tore to the end of the passage. He had just begun to descend to the second floor when Ezekiel's shrill voice called, "Who's there? Who's upset my treasure? You'd better watch out, whoever you are, or you'll be DUST!"

  "Dust?" Charlie murmured under his breath as he leaped down spirally steps and creaking stairways. "Nothingness, more like. Zero. Zilch. No more Charlie."

  He had just reached the landing above the entrance hall when he ran straight into Mr. Weedon.

  "What are you doing in the west wing?" grunted the handyman. "It's out-of-bounds."

  "I was given permission," Charlie panted.

  Mr. Weedon raised his eyebrows. "Oh? And who gave you permission?"

  "Dr. Bloor," said Charlie. After all, Dr. Bloor had commanded him to find Skarpo. "I'm looking for someone. I suppose you haven't seen him? He's got kind of silvery hair and a beard and he's wearing a dark robe and a little cap on . . .”

  "It's you. Of course. You little squirt. You're responsible for all the mess outside that I've got to clear up. Not to mention the elephant. Darn near killed me when I tried to move it."

  "What happened to it?" asked Charlie, who couldn't help being curious.

  "Vanished, didn't it — but its dung didn't vanish — nor its blasted footprints on my lawn. If I do see that wretched sorcerer, I'll darn well wring his neck."

  "Oh, I wouldn't try to . . . " began Charlie.

  "Get out of my way,"
growled Mr. Weedon. "I'm sick of the lot of you. Endowed, my foot." And he marched off toward the west wing, leaving Charlie anxious and relieved all at the same time.

  Below him, the hall began to fill with children heading for the garden door. The afternoon break had begun and Charlie decided to continue his search outside.

  "What happened to you?" said Fidelio as Charlie ran up to his friends.

  Charlie explained. "I've got to find the sorcerer before nine o'clock tomorrow or I'm dead meat. Worse than dead meat — I'm . . . "He ran his hand across his throat.

  Fidelio and Gabriel offered to help.

  "The woods," suggested Gabriel.

  They waded through the thick undergrowth beneath the trees that surrounded the grounds. But the deeper they went, the harder it was to know if the dark forms sliding around the tree trunks were solid or merely shadows of moving branches. So many resembled a tall man in a long robe.

  When the hunting horn called them in for the last lesson, Charlie wasn't sure what to do. Dr. Bloor had given him a task. He would have to risk getting detention from the other teachers if he was to continue his search for Skarpo.

  He decided to inspect the dormitories. There were twenty-five of these, scattered over three floors, and Charlie had only searched ten before the dinner bell rang. What should he do now? Surely he wasn't expected to miss his dinner. He began the long journey from the third floor down to the dining hall. As he approached the hall he could hear raised voices. He was very late and hoped he hadn't missed the first course. When he opened the door and stepped inside, the noise was deafening. And then someone shouted, "There he is! It's all his fault."

  Charlie ducked his head, hoping to look inconspicuous. But everyone was watching him now Someone had spread the news. Charlie Bone was responsible for frog rain, for darkness, mad bulls, golden bats, and vanishing elephants. Worst of all, he was responsible for tonight's dinner.

  As Charlie slid onto the bench beside Fidelio, he saw a heap of cabbage and a slice of stale-looking bread on his plate. Everyone else had a similar meal.

  "What's this?" Charlie murmured to Fidelio.

  "Trouble in the kitchens," Fidelio explained in a low voice. "We were going to have scrambled eggs, but one of Cook's assistants found the pantry full of chickens instead of eggs. You can hear them if you listen."

  Charlie could, indeed, hear clucking from behind the door into the kitchen. His heart sank.

  After watching Charlie take his place, the rest of the table began to chew their bread and cabbage. There were mutters of disgust and sounds of Uurgh!" "Yuk!" "Blurgh!" all around Charlie, but Billy Raven, sitting opposite, whispered, “Actually I don't mind cabbage."

  And then, from the drama table, Damian Smerk piped, "This food is disgusting. I'd like to stuff my foot down Charlie Bone's throat."

  "Shut up, fatso," came Olivia's voice. "It's not his fault."

  "It is, you wet cabbage . . .”

  The rest of Damian's rude remark was drowned by Dorcas Loom's shout of "Charlie Bone should be made to eat slugs for the rest of his life." She followed this with a loud giggle, and several of her cronies at the art table joined in.

  In Charlie's defense, Tancred made a remark that Charlie couldn't quite hear, but it was evidently so rude that it caused loud gasps of horror and astonishment.

  Dr. Bloor stood up and glared down the room. He was about to speak when Tancred's anger got the better of him. Plates and dishes began to slide across the tables as a violent wind rushed around the dining hall.

  Dinners crashed to the floor and members of the staff leaped to their feet in dismay

  "Enough!" roared Dr. Bloor. "Tancred Torsson, CONTROL yourself!"

  The headmaster stood at the edge of the dais, his hands behind his back, glowering at Tancred while the stormy boy calmed down and the dinner tables gradually returned to normal. "Now, go get a dustpan and a cloth," Dr. Bloor shouted at Tancred. "You can clean up the mess you've caused."

  "Yes, sir.” Tancred slouched out of the hall, only just managing to keep his green cape under control.

  Charlie felt guilty It was all his fault. Tancred was paying for his terrible carelessness in letting the sorcerer out. He was almost relieved when Dr. Bloor said, "Charlie Bone, stand up."

  Charlie stood, knees shaking slightly hands clinging to the table.

  "You know where you should be, don't you?" said the headmaster in a steely voice.

  "Um, I'm not sure, sir," said Charlie.

  "Searching, boy Searching!"

  "I have been, sir. I can't find — it — er, him."

  "I'm sure there's one place where you haven't looked, isn't there?" He waited for an answer, but when Charlie failed to give him one, he repeated, "ISN'T THERE?"

  In a small shred of a voice, Charlie croaked, "Yes, sir."

  "And where is that?"

  "The ruin, sir."

  Every knife and fork was still. Every mouth was motionless. Every eye was on Charlie, and every person in the room felt glad to be themselves and not Charlie Bone.

  "Then you'd better get out there, hadn't you?" Dr. Bloor's voice was now a menacing hiss.

  'Yes, sir." Charlie took one look at his pile of cabbage and left the dining hall.

  The bright, sunny day had turned dull and damp, and Charlie shivered as he ran toward the castle ruin. It was one thing to go into the castle with a friend, in daylight. It was quite another to go alone when dusk was approaching.

  The tall red walls were half-buried in the woods, and when Charlie stepped through the great arched entrance, he paused to catch his breath and to make a decision. He was in a paved courtyard facing five stone arches, each one a different entrance into the castle. Which one to choose? Charlie eventually made for the middle arch because he knew where it led.

  He stepped into a dark passage where small creatures scurried around his feet and wet, slimy things moved under his fingers as he put out a hand to steady himself. At last he emerged into the light, and crossing yet another courtyard, he descended a flight of stone steps into a glade ringed by broken statues. In the center of the glade stood a large stone tomb and, climbing onto its mossy lid, Charlie stood up and listened.

  He hoped that from this position he would hear any unusual creaks or rustles that might give away Skarpo's position. But it was hopeless. Sounds came from all directions: the stirring of leaves and rubble, the sighing of the wind, and the continuous patter and scrabble of tiny feet.

  Charlie jumped down from the tomb and walked through the ring of statues to a gap in the wall behind them. He waded through brambles and nettles, he stumbled over fallen walls, and tumbled down hidden steps, and then he began to call. "Skarpo! Skarpo! Are you there? Please, please tell me. I'll do anything for you if you help me now" Charlie realized this was a bit rash, but he was desperate.

  Shadows moved across the walls, trees murmured, and birds scattered, shrieking into the wind.

  Charlie looked at his watch. Nine o'clock. Homework was over. His friends would all be in bed. Dr. Bloor hadn't told him when to come back. Was he expected to stay in the ruin all night?

  "No way," Charlie muttered to himself He knew what sometimes stalked the ruins after dark: a boy who wasn't a boy Asa Pike on four feet, furred and fanged, his eyes glowing a wild yellow, his spiteful snicker turned to a snarl. A running, hunting, deadly beast.

  Charlie began to retrace his steps. Plunging through the undergrowth he reached the ring of statues quicker than he had hoped. He was about to cross the glade when he saw a movement on the courtyard above him. Charlie shrank into the bushes behind a statue. In the dying rays of the sun he saw something that made his flesh creep. A woman was standing at the top of the steps, an ancient woman in a long white dress, gray-faced, her flesh lined like a spider's web, her white hair hanging in thin strands over her bony shoulders.

  "Yolanda," breathed Charlie. "Belle."

  He wished he hadn't seen her. And he wished he hadn't seen the gray beast crouching in her s
hadow

  The woman's eyes narrowed; she seemed to be looking straight at Charlie, and then she walked away As she moved, the beast followed, close at her heels, like a dog. Only it wasn't dog, or a wolf, or a hyena. It was a gray thing with a crooked back; a long, drooping tail; yellow eyes; and a snout like a boar.

  Charlie closed his eyes and held his breath. They're the same, he thought. Asa and Belle.Both shape-shifters. No wonder Asa can't keep away from her.

  It was dark when he felt safe enough to come out of his hiding place. Even so, he crept every inch of the way But once he was beyond the castle walls, he tore across the grass and flung himself through the garden door, tumbling onto the flagstones of the hall, as if he'd been poleaxed.

  The building was silent. Charlie dragged himself up to his dormitory and fell onto his bed.

  "Any luck?" Fidelio whispered sleepily

  "No," murmured Charlie. He thought, dismally of the punishment awaiting him. There was no question, now, that he would be punished. How could he possibly find Skarpo before nine o'clock? He thought he was too worried to sleep, but exhaustion overcame him as soon as he closed his eyes.

  When he woke up, he thought he'd been having a nightmare. It was still dark and, at the other end of the dormitory Billy Raven seemed to be muttering to himself. There was an awful smell in the room.

  Damian Smerk moaned, "Billy Raven, get that lousy dog out of here. It stinks to high heaven."

  More muttering. A pattering of claws across the floor, and then the door banged shut.

  Charlie closed his eyes again, but all at once a voice beside his ear whispered, "Charlie? Charlie, are you awake?"

  "Uh?" grunted Charlie.

  "It's me, Billy Blessed was here. He says Cook wants to see you. Now It's very urgent."

  CHAPTER 13

  THE FLAMES AND A JOURNEY

  At the back of the blue kitchen, there was a broom closet. The contents of this closet — mops, dustpans, brushes, and dusters — hid a low door with a handle that looked like a small wooden peg. A duster hung on it permanently as a disguise. If the handle was turned, however, the door opened into a softly lit corridor.