The Bone Snatcher

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The Bone Snatcher Page 19

by Charlotte Salter


  “Right,” was-Ralf said. “Well, after he started chatting to you and letting you go to the clock room, we were worried he might ruin everything. So we had a word with him, and when that wasn’t enough, we taught him a lesson or two. Jumping out at him at night, stalking him through the catacombs, that kind of thing. Turns out he wasn’t as tough as we thought.”

  “It only took a day for him to lose it. He threw himself into the sea, didn’t he?”

  “Wish we could have been there to see it. But he left a note of his own. Ironic, in a way.”

  Was-Gail drew something from his pocket and waved it in Sophie’s face. There was no mistaking Scree’s messy scribble, and she could tell from the twins’ faces that they hadn’t forged it. They looked positively disappointed.

  “What shall we do with her?” said was-Ralf.

  “Lock her in a cupboard?”

  “Too slow. She’ll get out before she starves.”

  “You’re not going to win, Gail,” Sophie said. “No matter how hard you try. The game’s won.”

  “I’m Ralf,” was-Gail said, baring his teeth. “I told you.”

  “That’s not fair,” said was-Ralf to him. “You’re still Gail. Chop chop, fall to my heel.”

  “I am clearly Ralf, you cretin.”

  “It’s not your turn.”

  “I was Ralf first!”

  “I was Ralf first!”

  Sophie whipped the scissors from her sleeve, only to have them snatched away.

  “Look at that,” said was-Gail, holding them aloft. “She thought she could slip away while we were arguing. What an unoriginal idea.”

  “Another thing that never really works. Does she think we’re stupid?”

  “You think she would have learned by now.”

  “I think, it being a special occasion, that we can both be Ralf today.”

  Sophie looked from one twin to the other. They had backed her into a corner, and now they weren’t moving, only leaning forward at the hips as though inspecting her through monocles.

  “In the sea?” asked Ralf.

  “In the sea,” said Ralf.

  In a blur of anger, Sophie did two things that seemed to happen at once: she ground her heel into the foot of Ralf on the right, who screamed, and drove her elbow into the other Ralf’s crotch. He dropped the scissors, which she grabbed as his fists swung over her head.

  “That’s for Scree!” she screamed, and lashed out with the open scissors as the twins fell upon her.

  At first she didn’t think she’d hit either of them, but they both leaped back, astonished, one of them clutching his scarlet hand. The bloodied Ralf opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

  “She took the end off your finger,” his brother said, as though it wasn’t obvious. “She cut it off!”

  Only the very tip of his index finger had been sliced off, but the bright red color transfixed the twins for second. Sophie bolted, shoving through them and running back into the corridor.

  “She took my finger,” Ralf moaned, sounding momentarily like Gail, but then his voice twisted and changed: “Get her!” he screamed. “Twist her head off!”

  “Come on, then!” she screamed back, plunging down the stairs and skidding into the entrance hall, where the door was wide open and Manic was pulling at his peg. “Come and get me, you freaks!”

  As she swerved toward the door she heard a terrible scream coming from upstairs, like Cartwright had just had his own fingers twisted off, and he rushed down, clutching the Monster Box in his arms. It leered at them with its twisted keyhole eye. The Battleship was after him, and in her fist she held a clump of his hair.

  “Lock them in!” Cartwright yelled to Sophie, and she ran through the door before him. They started heaving the doors shut, but the Battleship’s huge hand shot through and grabbed the edge of the frame, forcing it back open. They both slammed their bodies against the door and pushed back.

  “I’ve got to tell you something about your uncle,” she gasped, remembering the room of gold.

  “Right now?” Cartwright shouted through the commotion. “Is this really the time?”

  “Sure, let’s do it over a nice cup of tea!” she said as the Battleship’s fingers slithered around, looking for a hold.

  “It’s no use,” said Cartwright. “We’re not going to get away in time.”

  “We are,” said Sophie. “You can outrun her on Manic. Make her chase you through the gardens. The twins are after me because I cut their finger off—”

  “What?”

  “—but I don’t think they know you have the box yet.”

  “How are you going to escape those maniacs?”

  In her pocket, Scree’s watch began to tick and vibrate. Despite everything, Sophie felt a grin of triumph twitch the corners of her mouth. It was nearly lunchtime.

  “I’m going to take them onto the rocks and get rid of them,” she said. “I’m going to give the monsters the best meal of their lives.”

  “I think there’s a good chance you’re going to—” they both slammed their bodies against the door as it moved an inch “—die a horrible death!”

  “You haven’t seen me angry,” she said. “One—”

  “Two—”

  “Three!”

  They let go of the door and sprang to the sides. Cartwright ran after Manic, who reared and tore the peg out of the ground. The Battleship and the twins fell through the door, the bloodied Ralf an interesting shade of screaming purple. As Cartwright scrambled onto Manic and tore through the gardens, the Monster Box under his arm, Sophie took off in the direction of the sea.

  The twins ran after her, hands outstretched, gaining on her with every step as they moved toward the razor-sharp, pointed rocks that leered out of the waves.

  Chapter 27

  A Monster’s Call

  As Sophie pounded toward the sea it felt like the distance in front of her was growing, the island unraveling like a long tentacle, and that she would never reach the water’s edge. She thought her body was going to seize up. She’d never been good at cross-country in school, and by now she must have outstripped even the most tenacious runner. Her breath was hot and ragged and her feet were like blocks of burning lead. But still she ran.

  The twins were behind her, sounding equally winded. Was-Ralf, whose finger she’d sliced off, had managed to stanch it with the cloth from his shirt, and was trundling toward her with the determination of a machine. They’d started bickering again, shooting single words at each other like snipers.

  She struggled to the edge of the island, where the garden melted into the sea and the rocks rose like cragged teeth. She didn’t know yet how she was going to defend herself from the sea creatures, which were looking at her like a tasty, fleshy sandwich—she’d forgotten about the morning feeding, hadn’t she?—or how she’d get them to take both of the twins. But there was nowhere else to go, and she hardly cared what happened anymore, now there was no New Continent and no parents to prove herself to. Even the stories she had were stuttering through her head like fallen soldiers.

  “Silverfish,” gasped the twins. “Come to us, pretty Silverfish.”

  Sophie entered the water. She knew the creatures loved blood, but was-Ralf had raised his injured hand over his head, perhaps knowing that it would bring the monsters toward him like flies to rotten fruit. She waded through the shallows and climbed onto a large stone, flat like a molar and surrounded by long incisors.

  “Give us a kiss before you die, Silverfish,” was-Gail sang, and they both found it so funny they struck up a tune. “Give us a kiss, Silverfish. Give us a kiss, Silverfish.” They chanted it over and over, lower and lower, until it was almost a hum. “Give us a kiss, Silverfish . . .”

  The tide was low, and Sophie could see in the rocks surrounding her hundreds of holes that led to the catacombs. The air wa
s static with unbroken lightning, the sky ready to fall down on them at any moment. She considered scrambling down one of the holes, but they were dangerously narrow and lined with razor clams.

  The twins entered the water, looking a lot happier now they didn’t have to run. They picked their way through the rocks as Sophie climbed farther into the sea, her foot- and handholds becoming smaller and more precarious with every step.

  “Give us a kiss, Silverfish!” they sang, and made horrible slurping noises like they were about to swallow her.

  Loose pieces of rock splashed into the water by Sophie’s feet. The sea creatures rose from the breaking surf, opening their mouths and displaying their teeth. She saw Cartwright galloping over the long curve of the island, the Monster Box held aloft, and behind him a trail of flattened plants and trees, the Battleship plowing through them like a duck through water. Cartwright wouldn’t get back in time to help fight off the twins and the monsters. She was on her own.

  With the scissors still clutched in her hand, she opened them up and made a quick cut along her index finger. A long, red line opened up and pearls of blood appeared. She bent down and plunged her hand into the water. The creatures chattered excitedly among themselves in clicks and whispers and whistles.

  “Do you give up now?” said was-Gail as they got close to her. They pulled themselves out of the water and faced her on a long, flat rock. With a quick glance at each other they reached into their jackets and withdrew knives.

  “You must be tired,” added was-Gail, twirling his around.

  “They never are,” said was-Ralf, looking at her with pure hatred as his finger continued to seep. “They punch and fight and shout and beg, but no matter how long they string it out, they never win.”

  Sophie held the scissors, stained and bent out of shape, in front of her like a dagger. The water below her seethed, and a barbed tentacle shot up and grabbed them out of her hand. There was a crunch as the bloodstained scissors were chewed up.

  “Oh,” she said, blinking at her empty hand.

  “Oh indeed,” was-Ralf said, looking delighted. “Anything you want to say?”

  “You still don’t have to do this,” she said.

  “Don’t try that again,” said was-Gail. He dodged forward, fingers outstretched, and jabbed her in the side so hard she doubled over.

  As she clutched her stomach she saw the water. The creatures were shifting and getting agitated, but the twins were too focused on Sophie to care.

  Next to her chest, pressed between her grubby shirt and her skin, Mister Scree’s pocket watch began to sing.

  “It doesn’t matter what you do to me,” she said. “Cartwright already has the Monster Box. We’re going to cure Sea Fever.”

  “That’s what you think it does?” said was-Ralf.

  “Interesting,” said was-Gail.

  The twins, as one, smirked. They strode over to her, one-two-three, and as their blades sailed toward her chest something broke the water behind them and a huge, purplish tentacle whipped through the air. The twins screamed as they were caught by the monster. Sophie dodged backward in a cold panic, stepping right off the rock. There was a moment of falling, so surprising that she didn’t have time to cry out. Instead of feeling her body skewered by the rocks, though, something fleshy but hard slammed into Sophie’s back and she was thrown into the air.

  In a half-second glance she saw the twins being constricted by the demikraken, wailing and stabbing uselessly at the tree-trunk-thick tentacle around their waists. Then she was caught by a giant squid, which suckered itself to her flesh and pulled her down into the sea.

  She plunged into blinding coldness. She felt the weight of the sea above her like a huge black rock, and as colored lights exploded behind her eyes she wondered at the point of trying to survive when there was nothing good to run to. Something wrapped itself around her boots and started pulling them off. They were going to peel her like a banana before eating her.

  As she drifted away it felt like there were streamers tightening around her foot. Even here, close to drowning, it felt familiar. More creatures crowded around her, making quick jabs at her, testing how tender she was. The streamers curled themselves around her toes, and she kicked weakly. The thing tightened on her sixth toe. What a place to start eating from, she thought vaguely. Just before it ends, I’ll have ten toes like everybody else.

  The thing on her feet went rigid, and there was a high-pitched cry like a train braking underwater. Sophie felt herself moving through the water, although she couldn’t tell whether she was going up or down or to the side. Was it going to dash her against a rock? But then she broke the surface, and the tentacle gripping her raised her so high she could see everything: the house and its garden, the twins still punching and kicking with the thing that had them, and Cartwright trying to push the Battleship into the water. Her first lungful of air was so painful she cried out, and the next was so good tears streamed down her face. The thing that had made the noise, the thing on her foot, was still attached, and she looked down to see it: a pale octopus with a head the size of a golf ball. And she remembered. It was bigger now, but without a doubt it was the thing she’d found in the rock pool after she’d escaped the Room of Remains. Its cry spread through the sea, repeated and echoed by dozens, then hundreds of the creatures, a secret message bouncing among them and all around the island. The tentacle holding her aloft brought her down and slowly, almost gently, placed her back on the rock.

  It let go. The octopus plopped back into the water. Sophie scrambled to the side of the rock and tried to catch sight of it, but it disappeared in a jet of bubbles.

  “Come back!” she yelled, although she didn’t know why, or what good it would do. She wheezed, coughing up seawater. “You paid me back.”

  “Silverfish,” gasped was-Ralf, making her turn around. “Get this thing off us!”

  The twins were still on the rock, each turning an unusual shade as they were slowly squeezed. They’d both dropped their knives.

  “Not until you call me by my real name,” she said.

  “Slitherfish!” howled was-Gail, and she turned away, squeezing her eyes shut. But she could stand the sound of their strangulation even less than the sight.

  Then the high-pitched cry echoed through the water one more time, louder than before, and the tentacle around the twins, instead of crushing them tighter—instead of finishing them—withdrew before she could make a decision.

  They fell to the ground, gasping, and stared at her with terrified eyes. For a moment she had no idea what to do.

  “I did that,” she said. The lie tripped out of her mouth as easily as a story. “The creatures know I look after them, so they let me go. And they let you go, too, because I told them to.”

  “You saved us?” said was-Gail. He looked like he couldn’t believe what had happened. “You called them off?”

  Her mind raced. The creatures thought the twins are my friends.

  “Yes,” she said quickly. “But not because you aren’t evil. It’s because I’m better than you.”

  “But . . .” said was-Gail. He looked at his brother, who was clutching his hand and still hadn’t spoken. “What do we do now?”

  “You go back to the island and stay there,” said Sophie. “You tell your mother to stop hurling herself after us, and you let me and Cartwright leave. In return, I won’t set the creatures on you.”

  “Liar,” said was-Ralf quietly. They both turned toward him, confused. He looked at his bandaged hand, the red soaking through. “Liar!” he repeated, and grabbed his knife, which had clattered to the floor, and his brother, without thinking, did the same, and they scrambled toward her blade-first.

  “Get them!” she screamed at the sea, but she knew the creatures didn’t really understand, and they only poked their tentacles out of the water like they were acknowledging her thanks.“GET THEM!” she scre
amed again, and as she ducked to the side the first blade missed her completely but the second only missed its real target, her chest, and she was stabbed in the shoulder.

  The wound wasn’t deep, but it was painful, and she nearly vomited. The twins circled her, eyes wide with glee. She couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe that, after everything, they’d actually won.

  And then something moved behind them.

  “My boys,” said a creaky voice. The twins turned, knives still raised. Sophie, clutching her shoulder, thought she must be hallucinating from pain or exhaustion, but the twins could see it, too, she knew they could, because they were completely still. An old man, thin and battered as a skeleton, was rising from the sea, water streaming off his gray robes, holding something in his hand that could be—must be—a scythe. He almost looked like—

  “Laurel?” Sophie whispered.

  “Father?” said was-Gail.

  “But you’re dead,” said was-Ralf stupidly.

  “I was,” said the Thing, pushing back its cowl to reveal his hollow cheeks and a wide, yellow-toothed grin. “You would know, because you killed me. But Neptune spat me back out so I could see you one last time.”

  He moved toward the twins with his crooked fingers outstretched, and just for a second, the tiniest fraction of a moment, he looked at Sophie and winked. And she knew what she was meant to do. Before the twins could react she barreled into them with all her strength, and was-Ralf fell sideways, scrambled for a handhold, and slipped into the sea. His brother shrieked and tried to stab her again with his knife, but she grabbed his wrist, twisting the weapon out of his grasp and pushing him down after his brother. They both missed the sharp rocks, but the creatures were still there and, seeing Sophie throw them down, needed no further excuse to attack.

  There was a huge, black, bubbling mess as tentacles and teeth and claws fought for the twins, and then they all sank under the water, and there was nothing left but a little shred of bloodied bandage, turning over and over on the surface.

 

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