Children of the Red King Book 06 Charlie Bone and The Beast

by Jenny Nimmo

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  Something nasty was going on at Bloor's Academy; she'd already seen the fish boy and Dorcas Loom crossing the landing, long after the other children had left.

  There were two ways of entering Cook's secret apartment. One began in a broom closet in the kitchen, but Blessed found the other route easier to navigate. At the top of the stairs Cook followed him along a hallway that led, in endless curves, to a very small door. Beside the door a dog-size panel in the wainscot opened to let Blessed through. Cook raised an eyebrow. She'd put on weight since Christmas and wasn't about to get stuck in a dog flap. She unlocked the very small door, opened it, and gently pushed at a cupboard standing in front of it. Squeezing herself between the cupboard and the door, Cook emerged into a carpeted corridor. Blessed was waiting for her.

  "Now what?" Cook asked the old dog.

  Blessed set off at a trot, which, at his age and size, wasn't that fast. Cook hurried after him. When Blessed approached the eerie region of the attics, Cook slowed down.

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  She was beginning to feel very nervous. Anyminute now, she thought, and Lord Grimwald will come lurching out at me, in his dreadful sea-boot stride. "Blessed," she called in a whisper. "No farther."

  But the old dog increased his pace, and now Cook was sure that a child was in trouble, and she remembered the promise that she had made to herself: to keep the balance between light and darkness, between the children bent on evil and those who only wished each other well. Cook's endowment was tranquillity.

  They came at last to the gaslit hallway. With a soft growl Blessed padded into a dark room. Cook took a few steps into the room; she stumbled against a bundle lying on the ground. Shining her flashlight on the floor, Cook saw Billy Raven's white head beneath a gray weblike shawl.

  "Billy!" Cook dropped to her knees and began to tear at the soft, clinging fabric.

  A voice from the hall said, "I wouldn't do that if I were you!"

  Cook got to her feet and swung around. The beam

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  from her flashlight lit two familiar faces: Dagbert Endless and Dorcas Loom.

  "What are you doing here?" Cook demanded. "And what have you done to this poor boy?"

  "Nothing that he didn't deserve," said Dorcas.

  "Deserve? Deserve? You wicked girl!" cried Cook. She could feel Dagbert's eyes on her, and her legs felt like jelly. She hoped the light from the gas jet was too weak for him to see her face clearly, but unfortunately, it only made her look younger, and he began to recognize her features.

  "I know you, don't I?" Dagbert said slowly.

  "Of course you do; I'm Cook," she snapped.

  "No, I mean from long ago. I've seen your photo somewhere." He grinned. "My father has it."

  "Don't be silly," cried Cook, adding, "Is your father - around?"

  "He's gone back to the North," said Dagbert. "He doesn't much like it here."

  Cook wasn't sure she believed him. "Go to bed," she told him, "while I attend to this poor boy."

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  "You mustn't do that," said Dorcas in a low, chilly voice.

  "No, Cook. Leave him be." Dagbert took a menacing step toward her.

  "Go to bed," she ordered, "right this minute."

  "Go to bed," they jeered. "NO. WE WONT!"

  Cook saw a large shadow loom behind the children. She almost dropped her flashlight in terror, she was so certain that Lord Grimwald would come striding in. But he didn't.

  "YOU'LL DO AS YOU'RE TOLD!" roared a voice.

  The two children were grabbed by the scruffs of their necks and hauled backward.

  Cook raised her flashlight a little. She smiled with surprise and relief. "Dr. Saltweather!"

  "Good evening, Cook!" Dr. Saltweather held the two squirming children in a firm grasp. "Are these kids bothering you?"

  "They certainly are," said Cook. "And they've done something awful to poor Billy Raven."

  "He's a little creep," yelled Dagbert, "and you don't

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  know what you're getting into, you old fool." He swung his foot at Dr. Saltweather, kicking him viciously in the shin.

  "Stop that!" barked the music teacher.

  "I'll do what I like," screeched Dagbert. "We've had permission."

  "Not mine," said Dr. Saltweather. "Now, get back to your miserable beds." Releasing Dagbert and Dorcas, he gave them both a shove toward the stairs.

  Dagbert stood very still. He glared at Dr. Saltweather with shining aquamarine eyes. A foggy cloud spread around the teacher and began to fill the hallway. Even Dorcas staggered backward, coughing violently.

  Cook found she could hardly breathe. The fog was filling her lungs, and if she could believe her eyes, there were fish swimming through the walls and seaweed floating in the blue-green water all around her. Was it possible to drown in an attic? she wondered.

  "STOP IT!" thundered a voice.

  Dr. Saltweather seemed impervious to the choking fog and the watery images.

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  Dagbert gave a horrible, burbling laugh. "You're drowning."

  "I CANNOT DROWN!"

  Cook could not be sure what she heard. The words were spoken in a deep whisper that swam around her head. Cannot drown. Cannot drown. Cannot drown. She became aware that the fish were fading, the seaweed withering, and the fog retreating.

  Dagbert stood in the hallway looking puzzled. A frightened Dorcas clung to his arm.

  "Go to bed," Dr. Saltweather ordered, this time in a calm, clear voice.

  The two children turned meekly away and ran down the stairs.

  "How did you do that?" asked Cook incredulously.

  "I'm not called Saltweather for nothing," the doctor replied with a smile.

  "Well!" She took a deep breath and stared at the music teacher's weathered face and crown of foamy white hair. "Are you... are you one of us, then?"

  Dr. Saltweather closed his mouth and laid a finger

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  across his lips. "I prefer that no one knows," he said. "I am not endowed, exactly, but I do have authority in certain areas." He rubbed his hands together. "Now, let's get this little lad out of his predicament."

  The gray shroud was not easy to remove. It clung to Cook's fingers and wrapped itself around Dr. Salt-weather's sleeves. Time and again they peeled the threads away from Billy's head, only to see another part of the shroud creep up and bury him again. But eventually the doctor gathered up the last strands and held the dreadful gray thing in his hands.

  "This, I believe, is what they call a shriveling shroud," he said gravely. "It shrivels the thoughts, rather than solid matter."

  "It's been knitted," Cook observed. "On very large needles."

  "A talent Dorcas has inherited from one of her nastier ancestors, no doubt." Dr. Saltweather rolled the shroud into a ball and put it in his pocket. "I'll deal with it later."

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  Cook knelt beside Billy. "He's coming around, the poor child."

  "What happened?" groaned Billy. "I was looking for Blessed. And then... and then..."

  "Best not to think about it, Billy," Cook said gently.

  Without a word, Dr. Saltweather bent down and lifted Billy into his arms. "Where shall we take him, Cook? This boy should not be left alone tonight."

  "Follow me," said Cook, "but never tell a soul about the place I shall take you to."

  "On my life," said the doctor, "never!"

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  THE RESCUE BEGINS

  Monday dawned, cold and gray. It was so dark Maisie put all the lights on in the house.

  Grandma Bone wa
s up unusually early for her. "You know what'll happen when my brother appears," she warned from her rocker by the stove. "All the lights will explode."

  "I'll deal with that when it happens," said Maisie, "but I can't cook breakfast in the dark."

  Charlie could hear them arguing as he brushed his teeth in the bathroom. When he went back to his room, Uncle Paton called softly through his door, "Come in here, Charlie. We must talk."

  Charlie looked into his uncle's room. Paton was sitting at his desk. A candle placed beside him had almost burnt out. Charlie got the impression that his uncle hadn't even been to bed - it was strewn with papers.

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  "I've got to hurry," said Charlie anxiously, "or I'll miss the school bus."

  "This won't take long. Come in and lock the door behind you."

  Charlie did as he was told and came to stand beside his uncle. "Have you been to bed, Uncle P.?" he asked.

  "Too busy." Paton flapped a hand. "But it's all worked out, Charlie. I'm quite pleased with myself. I've managed to contact Bartholomew Bloor and ..."

  "And Naren?" cried Charlie. "Where are they?"

  "Shhh!" Uncle Paton commanded. "Keep your voice down. Never mind where they are; I know a few of Bartholomew's old haunts and I asked the Browns to help me find him. They really are the most tenacious detectives; they tracked him down in no time. Bart's an awkward fellow, but he's agreed to help. His van will be waiting near the bridge - the stone bridge, not that deadly iron contraption. He'll wait until dawn if he can."

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  "Near the bridge," Charlie repeated, stifling a yawn.

  "North side. Under the trees." Uncle Paton peered into Charlie's face. "Are you listening? You are intending to spring the wolf-boy tonight, are you not?"

  "Yes. Yes, I am."

  "Julia and I have been doing some research, and it's true what Mr. Onimous told you. There is a passage from the academy that ends beside the river. It comes out in a small grove of trees above the path. I'm sure the Bloors are aware of it, so you'd better look out, Charlie. Will you be alone?"

  "Not exactly. Tancred and Lysander will be involved, and Billy, because he can speak to the beast." v;

  Uncle Paton looked down at the papers on his desk. His face was very solemn. "I feel that I should not be allowing you to do this, Charlie. It's extremely dangerous. And if any harm should come to you - I can't imagine how I would explain it to your parents. But..."

  "But I'd do it anyway," said Charlie.

  You would do it anyway." Paton sighed. "So all I can

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  do is to make it easier for you. I wish I could be there, but I am too conspicuous, and my endowment..." He gave a wry smile.

  "Streetlight explosions would really give the game away," Charlie said cheerfully.

  Paton nodded sadly. "Remember, Bartholomew will be waiting at the north side of the bridge. Asa's mother will be there - and someone else."

  "Someone else?"

  "Mmmm. A slight complication, but it can't be helped. Venetia's husband, Mr. Shellhorn, contacted me last night. He got my name from Mr. Onimous." Paton scratched his chin while Charlie listened with growing interest.

  "Mr. Shellhorn has decided to escape - that was his word for it - from your great-aunt. It's for his daughter's sake. She isn't safe in that awful house. So, together, they will make their way to the Pets' Cafe, and Bartholomew will pick them up."

  "What about Eric?" asked Charlie.

  Paton shook his head. "Mr. Shellhorn has reluctantly

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  decided to leave the boy. He's changed completely. He adores Venetia, it seems, and it would be too risky to let him in on the secret."

  "The troll!" Charlie exclaimed. "They'll never get past it."

  "The troll, dear boy, has gone." Charlie gaped. "How? It must weigh a ton." "Your friend the blacksmith is a mighty strong lady," said Uncle Paton. "The troll is under lock and key, and if Eric doesn't know where it is, he can't get it moving."

  "Phew. Where will Bartholomew take them all?" "To a far, far place where they'll all be safe. And, as you know, Bartholomew Bloor's the best man in the world for that sort of mission."

  There was a sudden loud rap on the door. "Are you in there, Charlie?" shouted Grandma Bone, rattling the door handle. "You'll miss your bus."

  Uncle Paton rolled his eyes and gave Charlie a little push toward the door. "By the way," he whispered, "you'll need Olivia."

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  "Why?" mouthed Charlie.

  "Distractions." Uncle Paton's voice was so soft Charlie could hardly hear him. "Illusions. White vans."

  Grandma Bone yelled, "Why should I care if you miss the bus, you stupid boy?"

  Charlie grinned, unlocked his uncle's door, and leaped onto the landing. "Almost ready," he called.

  Charlie didn't notice the change in Billy until first break. Billy was sitting in the coatroom, reading a book, when Charlie found him.

  "I want to talk to you about tonight," said Charlie.

  "Why?" asked Billy.

  "We're rescuing Asa, and it's important to get the timing right."

  "Is it?"

  "Billy, are you OK?" Charlie bent over his small friend.

  "I don't know," said Billy. "I had a funny kind of weekend. I was playing hide-and-seek with Blessed and then... and then ..."

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  "And then what?"

  "I don't know. When I woke up in the dormitory this morning, I couldn't remember anything that had happened."

  Charlie sat beside his friend. "But you feel OK?"

  "I suppose," said Billy. "Except I can't understand Blessed anymore, and he can't understand me." Billy closed his book. "Charlie, do you think it's going to be like that with all the animals? Have I lost my endowment?"

  "You can't have, Billy. I need you to talk to Asa."

  "Oh." Billy looked doubtful. "I'll try. Will you wake me up when it's time?"

  "Of course."

  The blue coatroom began to fill up with children, and Charlie had to end the conversation. He headed out to the grounds, where he found Tancred and Lysander pacing around the field together. They stopped when they saw Charlie, and in a low voice, Lysander asked, "Have you decided on tonight, Charlie?"

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  "It has to be tonight," Charlie told them, "because someone's going to be waiting for Asa."

  "Good," said Tancred. "The sooner, the better. But I think we should wait until well after midnight. I've seen the Bloors' lights burning at one o'clock in the morning."

  "Two o'clock, then," said Charlie.

  "Do you think you'll be able to wake up?" asked Lysander.

  "Dad gave me a new watch before he went away. It's got an alarm." Charlie proudly displayed the watch with its black face and sparkling circle of numbers.

  "Wow!" Tancred said obligingly. "That's impressive. I hope it doesn't wake the whole dorm."

  "Are you still sure you want to do this, Charlie?" Lysander suddenly looked very serious. "I wouldn't blame you if you called the whole thing off. It won't be easy, down there in the dark."

  "And Asa might bite you to death," Tancred said lightly.

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  Charlie grinned, though at that moment, it was the last thing he felt like doing. "Where will you two be?"

  "I'll be watching Manfred, and he'll be dealing with Dagbert," Tancred said, and Charlie nodded at his blond friend.

  "So I've got nothing to worry about, then. See you tonight." As Charlie walked back to the school he saw a knot of children surrounding Joshua and the twins. Joshua had a black eye, one twin had a blue nose, and the other's forehead was wrapp
ed in a wide bandage. Joshua pointed at Charlie, and the group of children turned and stared at him.

  Charlie gave a cheery wave.

  At lunch Charlie had butterflies in his stomach; he could hardly eat a thing. Throughout the rest of the day his heart beat extra fast, his hands felt cold and clammy, and during the last class, French, he found, much to his annoyance, that his knees were knocking. "I am NOT nervous," he said to himself.

  Fidelio leaned toward him. "What was that, Charlie?"

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  "Silence!" commanded Madame Tessier.

  "Tell you later," Charlie whispered.

  "SILENCE!" screamed Madame Tessier.

  Charlie managed to get Fidelio alone in the dormitory before supper. He told his friend everything.

  Fidelio frowned in concern. "Shall I come with you, Charlie? I mean, just you and Billy, alone in that awful place, with a wild beast?"

  "Asa's not really wild," said Charlie.

  "How do you know? He's been a beast for at least two weeks now. He could be utterly savage. Why don't you give it up, Charlie?"

  "Asa risked everything for me," said Charlie gravely. "I can't just let him... rot."

  Fidelio shrugged. "OK. I'll keep an eye on Dagbert if he wakes up."

  "Oh, he'll wake up all right," said Charlie.

  There was still one person Charlie had to contact. Olivia. Fidelio insisted on going up to the girls' dormitory with Charlie. "You could run into Matron up there," he said.

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  They did. She was standing right outside Olivia's door with a pile of sheets in her arms. "You're out of bounds," she snarled.

  "I've just come to borrow a book," said Charlie.

  "You can go without it." Lucretia Yewbeam's small black eyes locked onto Charlie's. "I've been hearing some very unpleasant things about you, Charlie Bone. We're all disgusted with the way you've turned out. Still, with a father like yours, who could expect... ?"

  "What do you mean?" cried Charlie, clenching his fists. "My father's worth a hundred Yewbeams."

  "He is a Yewbeam, stupid boy. At least a poor excuse for one." She smiled spitefully as Charlie raised his fist.

  "Charlie!" Fidelio grabbed his arm. "Let's get out of here."