The Road to Nevermore

by Christopher Lincoln

  “Hmmm …” She scratched her nose. “Dame Biglum would like to head out.” Martha shooed the children toward their seats. As she closed the shallow door the carriage lurched forward and clomped up the cobblestone streets, harnesses jingling like a banker’s pockets.

  A pleasant ride brought them back to High Manners Manor. It stood, waiting for them on the cliffs above the village of Houndstooth-on-Codswattle. The leaves on its ivy exterior rustled together as if they were tiny palms, impatient to see what new adventure was blowing their way.

  Chapter 2

  Sleep’s Shadows

  As the last toll of midnight was still reverberating, a dust speck floated along a dark hallway. It swirled past portraits of stately ancestors and through the keyhole of one particular bedroom door.

  Inside this bedroom, the tall velvet curtains, hanging like calm sails, were drawn closed. Nearby, a large table was stacked with books: THE PIRATE WAY, by Black-Heart Bill; SHIVERING TIMBERS, by Evil-Eye Ned; and KNOW YOUR JIBE FROM YOUR JIB, by Bad-Penmanship Percy. Next to the reading material rested Billy’s note. Like a buccaneer’s dagger it was short and to the point:

  Gramps Pete,

  Come quick.

  Billy

  An unusual bed stood in the middle of the room, its headboard carved like a ship’s stern. The foot of the bed rose to a point like the prow of a ship.

  In the center of the mattress sat Billy’s sea chest. He still preferred sleeping in his old trunk, even though it was a tight fit. Tonight, he tossed as if adrift in a storm.

  “Noooooooo … ,” he moaned. “Don’t let him do that to you … Mom, Dad!” For the briefest moment, his eyes glowed blue and his bones lit up under his skin.

  Billy sat upright.

  A flutter of candlelight swung into his room. He scrambled out of his trunk, heart pounding like a shipwright’s mallet.

  “Shhhhhh, it’s only me,” Millicent hissed as she tiptoed toward the bed. “Quiet down, or Martha will hear.”

  Billy’s hands shook. His wild hair pointed in every direction. “Sorry, Mill. It was another dream.”

  “You sure look a fright.” Millicent swung the candle up to his face.

  Billy winced. The light stung his eyes. “These dreams, they’re more awful than you can imagine. Someone keeps taking Mom and Dad Bones away again … and hurting them.”

  “Billy, we’ve already seen the worst of the Afterlife. He’s down in the sea trunk below.” Millicent brushed her fingers through Billy’s tangled hair.

  Billy and Millicent had trapped Commissioner Pickerel, a particularly threatening Afterlife official, in the bowels of the manor. This was the biggest secret Billy had ever managed to keep. Only the children and Billy’s ghostly gramps knew about it.

  Billy rubbed his stomach. Since these dreams had started, it felt as if his insides were being cinched tight as a hangman’s belt.

  Millicent grabbed his hand. “Let’s get down to the closet. You’ll feel better once you see your parents.” Millicent spun around. “I’ll show you.”

  The floor creaked under their bare feet as Billy and Millicent passed through one of the many secret passageways riddling their ancient home.

  Billy held tight to his note. He walked briskly to keep up and was nearly puffed out by the time they stood outside of the secrets-closet’s sturdy door.

  “Ready for family inspection?” Millicent grinned after fussing with the sash of her bathrobe.

  “Very.” Billy nodded and then told a truth, as was required to open the locked closet door. “I don’t want to lose my parents again.”

  The key swung off its hook next to the door and twisted in the lock. The door groaned open. The closet was silent as a forgotten graveyard. For a panicked moment, Billy thought Mr. and Mrs. Bones were gone. “Mom? Dad?”

  Mr. Bones’s warm voice answered, “Look what a kind wind has blown our way, Decette. Visitors!”

  Mrs. Bones clattered from the back of the closet. “Billy! Millicent! Do come in.”

  “Yes, straightaway,” Mr. Bones abandoned his ever-present copy of the Eternal Bugle, his dependable source for Afterlife news, and held open his arms.

  He wore a new silk vest, just the thing to carry the medal for distinguished service that he and Mrs. Bones had been awarded. Mrs. Bones was more modest about her medal. Hers was framed on top of her walnut filing cabinet.

  Billy wrapped his skeleton father in a hug.

  “Ooooofff … careful, my boy, you’ll have me scattered in bits and pieces,” Mr. Bones gasped. “Whatever is the matter?”

  Millicent told him how she’d found Billy staggered by a nightmare.

  Mr. Bones caressed Billy’s cheek. “As you can see for yourself, here we stand. We won’t be going anywhere soon.”

  Mrs. Bones descended on him with more hugs. “Oh, Pumpkin, don’t worry.”

  Millicent mouthed “pumpkin” and giggled. Billy blushed.

  “They won’t even let us out for a long-promised vacation. The Department of Fibs and Fabrications has other concerns at the moment.” Mr. Bones gave his wife a worried glance, then retrieved his pipe and turned toward the children.

  “No more of this talk, eh? Seeing you two is our greatest pleasure. And hearing about all that’s going on, well, it’s like we’ve taken a stroll out of the closet ourselves.” Mr. Bones rested a hand on Mrs. Bones’s shawl. “Decette, why don’t we have some cocoa and then the children can catch us up on everything.”

  The thought of cocoa brightened Billy’s mood. He loved the stuff. Bittersweet chocolate brewed with angel tears was one of his favorite treats, from back when he was a skeleton boy.

  That was before Mum Biglum had become a world-renowned chocolatier, and when Billy’s evil brother ruled High Manners Manor—the same brother who had locked Billy in the secrets-closet, starting a long otherworldly chain of events.

  First, Billy’s skeleton uncle, Grim, broke a good many Afterlife rules, when he changed Billy into a skeleton for the childless Mr. and Mrs. Bones. Then, years later, he broke a good many more by trying to dispatch Billy to the Afterlife. Uncle Grim had been attempting to cover his tracks because rumors of his first indiscretion had leaked out. But his plan backfired when Billy was transformed back into a living boy. A living boy, steeped in oddness, who was now in definite need of a good cuppa cocoa.

  As Mrs. Bones clattered the cocoa service together, Billy looked around the closet. He was happy to see not much had changed, though there were fewer secrets trunks now.

  As Mrs. Bones filled the pot with angel tears, Billy noticed a stack of secrets documents on the floor. Strange, he thought. Normally his parents had every document stamped, sorted, and tucked away in a secrets trunk moments after arriving in the closet.

  Billy shuffled curiously through the pile as Millicent chatted with Mr. Bones.

  Billy was about to place the documents back when one caught his eye. He slapped a hand to his mouth.

  “What’s that?” Millicent whispered.

  “It’s a secret,” Billy said. He held up the document, dangling it like bait.

  “And whose secret might it be?” Millicent asked.

  “A very naughty girl’s.”

  “Really.”

  “Oh yes. This naughty girl sneaks out at night to go swimming in the Codswattle. Oooooh, I don’t think Mum Biglum would approve at all,” Billy teased.

  “Billy … don’t you dare —,” Millicent said. By now the conversation had moved well past whispers, capturing Mr. Bones’s attention.

  “Billy Bones Biglum! Put that down!” Mr. Bones commanded.

  “And her name is Millicent Hues.” Billy laughed.

  “Billy!” Millicent and Mr. Bones shouted together.

  The document leaped out of Billy’s hand and blew apart—BANG—as secrets always do in the light of truth.

  “That s-stings!” Millicent stammered.

  “Errr. Sorry …”

  “When are you going to learn how to keep a secret?�
� Millicent swatted away the ashes on her robe and gave him a sour look. Her expression softened a bit when she saw his embarrassment.

  But Mr. Bones’s face was hard as flint and sparks as he grabbed the stack of secrets out of Billy’s hands. Before he could say anything, Mrs. Bones spoke up. “Lars Bones! Don’t you go laying into him. You left those out, so this is no one’s fault but your own!”

  Billy hoped his skeleton parents weren’t going to argue. Each time they did, he wanted to shrink through the cracks in the floorboards.

  Mr. Bones walked stiffly to a trunk at the back of the closet. He flung it open, then sorted the secrets with his usual dispatch. He was muttering under his breath. It sounded something like, “Fiddlesticks flotsam bother and bats!” But Billy really wasn’t sure. The comments might have been much ruder.

  Mr. Bones was calm by the time he returned. Then he did what any husband who’s been successfully married to the same wife for over two hundred years would do. He sighed, “You’re right, my dear.”

  Mrs. Bones went back to her cocoa and Mr. Bones continued, “However, that’s not everything to be said about the incident. Is it, Billy?”

  “No, sir,” Billy admitted, shoulders sagging. “I shouldn’t have poked around in your private stuff.”

  “Well, no real harm done. You’ve already apologized to Millicent, so we’ll consider the case closed.” Eyes dimming, Mr. Bones tilted his head. “I do wish I could have taught you how to hold a secret.”

  Mrs. Bones poured the cocoa. The children accepted their cups gladly, and after they all clinked cups in a toast, Billy excitedly caught them up on the visit to the ship.

  “Of course the Spurious II won’t be worth her salt unless she has the proper captain.” Billy fidgeted with his teacup handle, then asked, “Can you help us get this message to Gramps Pete? We want him to come with us.”

  Mrs. Bones stirred her cocoa nervously and looked at her husband. Frowning, Mr. Bones took the note, turning it over in his hands a few times. “I’m sure Pete would make the grandest captain on the seven seas, six times over. But there are things going on in the Afterlife that will make it difficult to contact him.” He lowered his voice. “Unfortunately, the Investigative Branch has been monitoring the mail—they have eyeballs everywhere—so it wouldn’t do to pop off a note to their most wanted ghost.” He dropped it onto a small pile of unsorted documents. “Best we keep it here. For some reason, they’ve linked Pete to Commissioner Pickerel’s disappearance!”

  Billy’s heart skipped a beat. He glanced at Millicent. She shook her head in a warning.

  Mr. Bones thumbed through the Eternal Bugle and then poked it with a bony finger. “Here’s an article from earlier this week:”

  New Afterlife Restrictions

  by Headley B. Moan

  Bugle readers may remember how Commissioner Pickerel nearly cornered the market on Afterlife power last year. But his sudden disappearance left his assistant, Miss Cornelia Chippendale, in charge.

  Many souls are worried about new Afterlife government restrictions. Bartemis Brittleback, chief spokesman for the Skeleton Guild, said, “You so much as jiggle your jawbone and you’re shipped off to Nevermore.”

  Bugle reporters tried to reach Mr. Brittleback for additional comments, but he was unavailable. When asked, Temporary Commissioner Cornelia Chippendale said, “We don’t know where he is, and we will continue to not know where he is for a very long time.”

  Emergency spying has been deemed necessary to aid in the search for Glass-Eyed Pete. The Investigative Branch has reason to believe he was responsible for Commissioner Pickerel’s mysterious disappearance. “We strongly recommend that he get in touch, or else!” said Temporary Commissioner Chippendale.

  Millicent’s cup rattled on its saucer. “Are my parents all right?” she asked after Mr. Bones stopped reading.

  “They were when Mr. Benders ran a letter for them two weeks ago.” Mr. Bones answered, trying to look hopeful. “Unfortunately, he lost track of them last week.”

  Millicent sagged like a lost sock. Billy wasn’t feeling much better. Trapping Pickerel obviously had unloosened a wobbly cart of events that was careening down a dangerous road.

  “And what about both of you?” Billy asked his parents. “Will the Investigative Branch come after you again?”

  “I think they’ve learned their lesson there.” Mrs. Bones leaned over and patted Billy’s hand, then retrieved his cup.

  But Billy wasn’t convinced. His skeleton parents had once been prisoners of Nevermore. They’d still be there too if he, Millicent, and Gramps Pete hadn’t proved that the couple had been arrested illegally and then captured Pickerel for added insurance. It was nearly unheard of for anyone to be released from the dreadful place, and exceedingly unlikely anyone would be again.

  Mr. Bones consulted his pocket watch and then his wife. “These two heroes really should get back to bed, my dear!” He slipped his watch into his vest then followed Mrs. Bones and the children to the door.

  “Hopefully, children,” Mrs. Bones said, “next time, we’ll have much better news.”

  There was nothing Billy wanted more. He wished his parents’ bony embraces could squeeze away all of his concerns.

  Outside the secrets-closet, a scarlet shape snaked away from the keyhole. It dimmed its glow until the children passed, and then the manifestation silently inched along, hungry to hear what delicious new secrets they were keeping.

  Billy and Millicent left the secret passageway through an equally secret door set in the dining room wall and continued toward their bedrooms.

  “I’m worried, Billy.”

  Billy’s eyes narrowed. “We’ve got to do something, Mill. It’s all my fault.”

  “Should we tell your parents?”

  Billy stopped at the base of a winding staircase. “I don’t know… .” His words echoed through the grand hallway. The crystal chandeliers tinkled with icy indifference.

  Billy flumped onto the steps.

  Millicent sat next to him. “We’ve got to have a plan.”

  “Well, we know someone powerful who’s back and forth between the two worlds every day.”

  “Your Uncle Grim?”

  “He did help out before. The trick is to get in touch.” Billy looked skyward.

  Millicent got up and walked absentmindedly in a small circle. A few muttering moments later she smiled. “I know a way. Think about it. What’s your uncle’s job?”

  “Hall of Reception’s chief field agent. When people die, he escorts their souls to the Afterlife.”

  “Well there you have it, then.”

  “Have what?”

  “The answer, Billy.” Millicent cocked her head. “If we want to find Uncle Grim, all we have to do is wait near someone who is about to pass away. Then Uncle Grim is bound to show up.”

  “How do we do that?”

  Millicent tilted her head more, until her exasperation looked like it would leak out of her ear.

  “Martha’s uncle!” Billy jumped up.

  Millicent nodded. “Yes, but let me handle it.”

  “I’ll stay quiet as a bug’s breath.”

  “You better.”

  The children continued up the stairs, echoes of their voices skipping like pond stones and then sinking with a wobble into the darkness.

  A scarlet glow brightened at the base of the stairs, and Gossip’s snaky shape expanded.

  Finally, sssomething worth sharing!

  The manifestation drew the curtains separating this world from the next, and slithered through the shimmering hole.

  Chapter 3

  Temporary Commissioner Chippendale

  Miss Cornelia Chippendale could have had any style of office she wanted: a Renaissance cathedral, faceted diamonds and pearls, or a life-sized da Vinci mural. But Miss Chippendale preferred the look of ancient Egypt.

  When Pickerel disappeared, she moved into his old office and brought along her temple: every glassy gold tile, sandstone bloc
k, column, and flickering torch sconce.

  Miss Chippendale smiled at her hunky servants. They fanned her with ostrich plumes, fed her bonbons, and massaged her feet with sweet-smelling oils. Since taking over for Commissioner Pickerel, Miss Chippendale had gained almost as much weight as power. Her robes were tight as an apple skin. With slashing strokes of her steel-nib pen, she dashed off her signature on a tall stack of documents hovering in the air.

  “Your ten o’clock appointment has arrived, madam,” Mr. Panderglass, her young assistant, informed her. Despite his handsome features, he looked tired. Miss Chippendale’s growing rank had made him a very busy man.

  “Oh yes … I’d quite forgotten.”

  Mr. Panderglass bowed and disappeared as Gossip, her loyal snoop, slithered in.

  Miss Chippendale smiled politely. “So good to see you, my friend.”

  Gossip glided through the air toward the dais, moving with the grace of a python. Miss Chippendale conjured up a smaller version of her own throne and Gossip gratefully curled up among its purple silk cushions.

  “Ssso good to sssee you, too, my dear,” Gossip hissed in a voice swirling with empty echoes and whistling wind. “Not to put businesss before pleassssantries, but I do have a bit of information.”

  Miss Chippendale briskly rubbed her palms. “My, my. But where are my manners?” She clapped her hands. A small assortment of teacakes appeared between the two thrones. A teapot poured itself into two fancy china cups. “Now, my friend, you were saying?”

  The manifestation wasn’t saying much. It was too busy stuffing its mouth and slurping tea. Miss Chippendale looked into her teacup. “I am most curious about what’s brought you here today.”

  “Yesss, information you’ll find essspecially comforting. I know how dedicated you were to your old bossss, Commissioner Pickerel.”

  “Quite.” Miss Chippendale said, eyelids draped over a sideways glance.

  The manifestation inched forward. “Usually, my information is free as the sssslither on a sssnake, but I’ve a price this time.”