by Jenny Nimmo
"The weather?" said Charlie, grinning at the snow. "Maybe the school will be closed and we can go tobogganing in the Heights."
"And I'll slip, fall on my bottom, and drop the shopping," Maisie said with a laugh.
The snow continued to fall.
After lunch, Charlie went up to his room. Claerwen was fluttering over the windowpanes as though she were trying to become part of the snow. Charlie took her onto his hand and she walked up to his shoulder, where she sat, her wings folded, and watched him writing an essay for English. "Vacation."
Charlie didn't go on vacations. There was a break from school, but he had never experienced a journey to a sunny place with yellow beaches, blue skies, and pink and white houses. Now and again, Uncle Paton would take him to see his greatgrandfather who lived beside the sea: a fierce gray sea, where seagulls gathered and wild waves lashed the black rocks. But these visits had to be kept secret because if Grandma Bone had known her father's whereabouts, she would have sought him out and harried him to his grave. There was another reason. Great-grandfather's brother lived there, a boy named Henry who had never grown up, caught in time by the Twister, a marble of astonishing beauty that Ezekiel had used to try and banish Henry to the Ice Age.
Charlie smiled when he thought of Henry, safe in his own brother's cottage by the sea.
After a few minutes of deep thinking, Charlie imagined a vacation spent on a Caribbean island. And then he realized that he didn't have to imagine it; if he could find a photograph of someone actually sitting on a Caribbean beach, he could travel there. But Charlie had become wary of picture traveling. It was never quite as much fun as he hoped. He could never take a friend, and the journey home often left him feeling a little unsteady. He must now conserve his energy for the dangerous journey into Badlock to rescue Billy Raven.
His essay completed, Charlie felt he deserved a cookie, maybe two. The house was very quiet. His grandmothers were both sleeping, no doubt, and Uncle Paton would be writing up his notes for the next chapter of his book, A History of the Yewbeams.
It was not yet evening, but the sky was dark with snow to come, and snow was still falling. Charlie could hardly see his way to the back of the kitchen. Details in the room were vague and incomplete, as though covered by a thin, gray veil. Charlie found a package of cookies and brought it to the table. He sat down and began to eat them while he watched the snow gently falling.
The doorbell rang.
If the sound had woken the grandmothers, they apparently didn't feel obliged to go to the door. Nor did Uncle Paton.
The bell rang again.
Charlie had seen no one pass the window. Filbert Street appeared to be deserted; snow lay on the parked cars, three inches deep.
The third time the bell rang, it was hardly a sound at all. Charlie had the impression that it was only inside his head. But he felt compelled to go to the door. He opened it tentatively and a cloud of snow-flakes floated into the hall.
A woman stood on the doorstep. Her hair was as white as the snow. She wore a thick white coat, and a soft yellow-gold shawl lay on her shoulders.
Charlie gasped. His hand flew to his mouth. For a moment he thought a snow angel had landed at their door.
And then he recognized the woman. "Alice Angel," he whispered.
Alice smiled. "Hello, Charlie. May I come in?"
He stood aside and she walked into the hall. A delicious smell drifted past Charlie and he remembered Alice's store, Angel Flowers, where tall white blooms perfumed the air with their heavenly scent.
"Where have you been?" he asked.
"I've been in my other store," she said, putting a small leather case on the floor. "It's a long, long way from here."
Charlie took Alice's soft white coat and hung it on a peg. "Why have you come back?" he asked.
"Olivia," she said.
"Olivia?" Charlie took Alice into the kitchen and put on the kettle. The room seemed suddenly brighter, especially where Alice stood in her white dress and long silver-gray boots. "It's funny you should come here now," he said, "because Olivia may be in trouble."
"I know," said Alice, with a frown of concern.
"She betrayed herself."
"Tell me how." Alice sat at the table while Charlie made her a cup of tea. She hadn't asked for one but was very happy to drink it while Charlie told her about the stone gargoyle and the skeleton Olivia had conjured up to scare Eric the animator.
Alice Angel's solemn face broke into a smile. "How very appropriate: a skeleton. Olivia certainly has a wild imagination. But she shouldn't have let her endowment be known. Now I've lost her."
There were footsteps on the stairs, and Charlie and Alice looked at the door. Charlie hoped it wasn't Grandma Bone. But Uncle Paton looked into the room and immediately recognized Alice Angel.
"Dear Alice, what brings you here?" he asked. "In a snowstorm, too. It must be urgent."
"It is," she said earnestly. "I may live three hundred miles away, but I always know when Olivia needs me. It's an instinct I have; I can't explain it.
As soon as I got to the city, I went around to Olivia's house." Her face clouded and she nervously sipped her tea. "They wouldn't let me see her."
"Wouldn't... ?" Uncle Paton sat down abruptly. "Why on earth?"
"Olivia's father came to the door," Alice continued. "He said that Olivia wasn't quite herself. I begged him to tell her that I had arrived, that I wanted to see my dearest goddaughter, so he went up to her room while I waited in the hall." Tears glittered in the corners of Alice's large hazel green eyes. "When Mr. Vertigo came down, he said ... he said..." She stopped and dabbed her eyes with a white handkerchief.
Paton laid a hand on her arm. "What did Mr. Vertigo say?"
Alice straightened her back and tucked her handkerchief into her sleeve. "He said that Olivia didn't want to see me and would I please leave the house immediately."
Charlie couldn't believe his ears. Olivia loved her godmother. What had happened to turn her against Alice Angel, unless...
"I'm afraid they have gotten to her already." Alice's voice was firmer now. "But I am not going to give up, and I am certainly not going to leave this city. I shall stay here until Olivia is herself again. The trouble is" -- she hesitated -- "I'm not sure where I can stay. The house I used to live in is still empty, but it's very, very cold."
"You must stay here," said Uncle Paton, springing up. "I insist."
Maisie came into the room just as Paton was about to run and fetch her. She listened to Alice's story with the resigned expression that she frequently wore these days. And yet Charlie could see her warming to Olivia's godmother, and it wasn't long before she was offering her cake and then shooting upstairs to make up a bed in the room where Charlie's mother had slept.
In all this time, there was no sign of Grandma Bone. She didn't even put in an appearance at dinner. Charlie knocked on her door, but there was no reply. Had she gone out? Or was she still sleeping?
"She's asleep," said Maisie, tiptoeing out of Grandma Bone's room at nine o'clock. "Can't you hear the snoring?"
Charlie took himself off to bed. It was school tomorrow. Will Olivia be there? he wondered. And what will she do? Whose friend will she become?
In spite of the questions filling his mind, Charlie found himself drifting easily into sleep. He thought of Alice Angel in the room above him. It was comforting to know that she was in the house, even if she was someone else's guardian angel.
"We're borrowing her," Charlie said to himself, "just for a while, until Olivia wants her." And then his thoughts turned to Billy Raven pulled nine hundred years through time to the enchanter's palace. No wonder Billy didn't want to come home; his companion was the most beautiful girl in the world -- a girl with dark curls and a gentle smile, a girl named Matilda whom Charlie would give anything to see again.
Billy wasn't having such a good time as Charlie imagined. He was being punished, and he blamed Rembrandt. Rembrandt was Billy's rat; he was sleek and black, w
ith shining eyes and long, impressive whiskers. He happened to be in Billy's pocket when Billy was whisked into the painting of Badlock. A nasty spell of the enchanter's (or Count Harken of Badlock, to give him his full title).
Life in Badlock had been very good to Billy. He had fine clothes to wear, delicious food to eat, and a jungle of animal enchantments to visit every day. There was also Matilda, Count Harken's granddaughter, the kindest friend Billy had ever known. But Rembrandt wanted to go home. He nagged and complained and chewed Billy's new shoes and generally made himself a terrible nuisance. Billy could communicate with animals.
He understood every squeak, whine, purr, twitter -- and a lot more.
One day Rembrandt went too far. It was during dinner, the worst time he could have chosen. Dinner in the enchanter's palace was a very important affair. It was served in a vast black marble hall. False stars shone down from the vaulted ceiling, and the walls were hung with glittering weapons.
The glass-topped table was twenty feet long, and the count and his wife, sitting at opposite ends, had to converse in shouts that made Billy's head ache.
Billy and Matilda sat next to each other, facing Edgar, Matilda's brother, a hard-faced boy who liked to frighten Billy by appearing suddenly through a wall or a door. The diners only had to utter the name of the food they wanted and it would instantly be conjured up. Billy usually chose whatever Matilda was having. He tried to feed Rembrandt as much as he could without Edgar catching sight of him. Edgar loathed the rat; he called Rembrandt an abomination not fit to walk the earth, let alone live in a palace.
So when Rembrandt, tired of the usual tidbits, leaped onto the table and made a dash for Edgar's plate, Edgar jumped up with a yell, seized a knife from the wall, and flung it at the rat. Luckily, it missed Rembrandt and slid across the table, but Billy was already on his feet, screaming at Edgar.
"You vile, mean, horrible boy," Billy cried. "You nearly killed my rat."
"It's a pity he didn't," the countess remarked.
The dreadful coldness in her voice stunned Billy. Rembrandt jumped into his arms and he sat down abruptly.
"The creature must be killed," the countess continued. "Don't you agree, Harken?"
Billy stared at the countess's long face. Her small black eyes rested on the rat he was clutching to his chest.
"Well, Harken, say something!" the countess demanded, raising her voice.
Billy turned to look at the enchanter, who until that moment had been ignoring the drama and carrying on with his meal as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Taking a sip of wine from a golden goblet, he regarded Billy with a thoughtful expression and stood up.
Billy cowered under the enchanter's chilly gaze. His green robe glittered with diamonds and emeralds, and his abundant hair shone with a dusting of powdered gold. Sometimes Billy was so overawed by his host's magnificence, he could barely look at him. He waited, fearfully, for the count's pronouncement. At last it came.
"We shall not bother with the rat," said the enchanter.
Billy's heart gave a flutter of relief. His hopes were dashed, however, by the enchanter's next words. "The creature can keep the boy company in the dungeons."
"Sir, you can't do that!" cried Matilda. "Billy is our guest."
"I am tired of guests!" the count roared at her. "Guards, take the boy away."
Before Billy could think what might be coming next, two guards stepped forward and grabbed his arms. Rembrandt dropped to the floor and scuttled at Billy's heels as he was marched out of the hall. He could hear Matilda's protesting cries receding into the distance as he was taken farther and farther down the long dark passages that led to the dungeons.
12
THE SEA-GOLD CHARMS
Charlie went down to breakfast the next morning, he found Alice in the kitchen. A pot of tea had been made, oatmeal was cooking on the stove, and slices of golden-brown toast filled the toast rack on the table.
"Good morning, Charlie," Alice said brightly. "Watch the oatmeal for me; I'm going to take Maisie a cup of tea." She spoke as if she had lived at number nine for much longer than a night.
"Morning, Alice." Charlie took up a wooden spoon and began to stir the oatmeal while Alice slipped out, carrying a cup of tea with two biscuits on the saucer. Her footsteps were so light they could hardly be heard on the stairs.
By the time Alice came back, Charlie had eaten his oatmeal. The plows had been working through the night and the roads were clear, although the side streets were still covered in snow. The sky was bright blue and the sun made roofs, walls, trees, and hedges blaze with light. Alice opened the window and breathed in deeply. "I love the smell of snow," she said.
Charlie sniffed the cold air and agreed with her. The world smelled deliriously fresh. He ran upstairs to fetch his schoolbag. As he pulled on his blue school cape, he found that he was glad of its warmth. Sometimes other children in the street would tease him for attending Bloor's Academy and wearing a fancy cape. And Charlie would stuff the embarrassing garment in his bag, trying not to draw attention to himself. But today he felt warm and confident.
The house was still very quiet, almost as if it were buried in snow. There wasn't a sound from Grandma Bone's room.
Alice came to the kitchen door just as Charlie was leaving. "Watch Olivia for me, Charlie," she said. "Don't let anything... anyone ... I hardly know what I'm saying because it's obvious that she's become one of THEM now.
But I'd like to know how it happened, so that I can deal with it."
"I'll do my best," Charlie promised. He still couldn't believe that the Olivia he knew would allow herself to be TAKEN OVER.
On the other side of the road, Benjamin was throwing snowballs for Runner Bean to fetch. "No school for me today," he called happily. "School's closed 'cause of the snow."
"Lucky thing," Charlie shouted back. He knew the blue bus would be waiting for him at the top of the road. Only an avalanche would close Bloor's Academy.
Charlie hardly saw Olivia during the day. Sometimes he'd catch a glimpse of a bleached blond head above a purple cape, but then she'd be gone, swallowed in a sea of purple. Drama students surrounded her like bees around a honeypot. It wasn't until the homework hours began that Charlie discovered what he was really up against.
After dinner, Charlie climbed the back stairs up to the King's Room, where the endowed children had to do their homework. He was halfway up when a voice behind him whispered, "Charlie." He turned around and saw Emma's pale, distraught face. Her eyes were red from crying.
"What's up, Em?" Charlie asked.
The Branko twins came up behind them and tried to push pass. Idith (or was it Inez?) hissed, "You're in the way, morons."
Charlie's fist itched. He would have liked to land a punch on Idith's doll-like face, but reluctantly he stepped aside and let them pass. When the twins were out of earshot, Emma said, "Something's wrong with Liv. She hasn't spoken to me all day."
"THEY'VE got her," Charlie whispered.
"What?" Emma's blue eyes widened in disbelief. "They can't have."
"She betrayed herself, Em. Once they knew, they were bound to try and change her."
"No." Emma vigorously shook her head. "They couldn't. Not Liv. I won't believe it."
Dorcas Loom trudged past them, breathing heavily. "What's wrong with you two?" she mumbled, without looking back.
Charlie and Emma didn't bother to reply.
"It's true," Charlie said in a low voice as Dorcas disappeared around a bend in the stairs. "Alice Angel has come back. Olivia wouldn't see her."
Emma's mouth fell open.
"We'd better go, Em," said Charlie. "We're late."
They began to hurry up the stairs, but hearing slow footsteps at the bottom of the staircase, Charlie glanced back. Dagbert Endless stood brushing the shoulders of his blue cape. His hair was like wet seaweed and the bottoms of his pants were soaked with snow. Feeling Charlie's eyes on him, Dagbert looked up.
Charlie couldn't sto
p himself from asking, "Have you hidden your charms?"
Dagbert gave a silent nod.
"Good." Charlie didn't want to know where they were. But he was glad they were out of Lord Grimwald's reach. He ran up the stairs with Dagbert plodding after him.
The King's Room was almost circular. Its curved walls were lined with books, and in the center stood a large, round table. The endowed children sat at the table to do their homework, watched over by the Talents Master.
When Charlie walked into the room that night, he was surprised to see that Olivia had already made herself at home. She had never worked in the King's Room before, but here she was, sitting between Dorcas and one of the twins, with her books laid out neatly before her. She had been accepted as one of the endowed and quickly taken her place among them.
There were always two distinct groups at the table. Manfred sat with Dorcas, Joshua, and the twins while on the other side of the table, Lysander, Gabriel, Emma, and Charlie sat close together. Dagbert was always alone in the gap between the groups, never on one side or the other.
Lysander and Gabriel were already immersed in their work. Charlie took a chair beside Gabriel, with Emma on his other side. When Charlie put his books on the table, Gabriel looked up and rolled his eyes, inclining his head toward Olivia. Charlie grimaced and shrugged. Gabriel frowned. Charlie grinned.
"Stop making faces, you two," said Manfred. "If you want to welcome our new member, do it sensibly."
Gabriel and Charlie stared at him. Neither said a word.
Manfred sighed. "For your benefit and everybody else's, I might as well formally announce that Olivia Vertigo has joined our elite company. Olivia is an illusionist, something that she has been keeping to herself for quite a while, but now that her endowment is out in the open, we expect her to use it only when Bloor's Academy requires her to."
Everyone stared at Olivia, who took absolutely no notice. She was bent over her exercise book, writing feverishly.
"Do you think," said Joshua, in his eager whine, "that Olivia could show us, just once, what an illusionist can do?"