by Glenn Dakin
‘I mean, guardian angels don’t exist, do they? And you don’t look much like a fairy godmother.’
Tristus looked grim. His eyes flashed pure blue for an instant, then his face cracked into an unexpected and beautiful smile.
‘My name is Tristus,’ he said. ‘I am an asraghoul, a noble garghoul, one of the high race from the time of the First Moon – an era long before your civilisation. I do not usually wish to befriend humans, but you are an exception,’ he added. ‘Come.’
Tristus gathered Theo and Mr Nicely up, beat his wings and took to the air. The smoke was thick about them, and it was time to get away.
‘But how – I mean, why are you here?’ Theo asked. ‘Have you been following me?’
Tristus sighed. ‘First – tell me quickly, what happened below?’ The garghoul listened in wonder as Theo related Dr Saint’s downfall. At the end he said nothing, but his smile told Theo that he was deeply glad at the way this day had gone.
‘We have been lucky today,’ he said finally. ‘Now I suppose I must tell you a little.’ They were flying steadily up the main shaft, through the levels of the network. Theo was grateful to see the long stairway slip away below him.
‘A hundred years ago,’ Tristus said, ‘I was the first garghoul to be awoken by the Philanthropist. He found me sleeping among the ancient carvings deep in the network. He thought I would be grateful – an eternal ally! But I had been happy in my stone dream. I never forgave him for awakening me. He sought my help in his war with your ancestor. I, however, chose to side with Lord Wickland.’
They had arrived at the top platform. Tristus set Theo and Mr Nicely down. The butler suddenly coughed, his body jerked to life, and he rolled over on to his side.
‘Good,’ whispered Tristus. ‘This one is coming back from the brink.’
Theo sat on a fungus globe, his throat parched, his eyes sore. He still had so much to ask and was terrified that the garghoul would flit away.
‘Why did you side with Lord Wickland?’ asked Theo. ‘Were you friends?’ Theo had heard such dreadful things about his ancestor that he longed to believe he was a wonderful figure, lord of ancient mysteries, ally of garghouls.
Tristus pondered long before he spoke. It seemed to Theo that there was a dark cloud on the garghoul’s brow.
‘Now is not the moment to tell the tale of those times – times so dark I hope you never know their like. But I will tell you this much. The power that Lord Wickland carried – and the power you now hold – is sacred to my people.’
Theo frowned. He had seen the horrific effects of his rare gift. This remark from Tristus was, to say the least, unexpected.
‘Sacred?’ he echoed.
‘Yes,’ the garghoul replied. ‘It was recognised in the Beginning Time and called tripudon.’
‘That’s what we call it!’ Theo said.
‘Because you are using our language when you do,’ Tristus retorted. ‘It is the energy of the jump – the power to change things. It is the force that brings life to a stagnant world.’ The creature’s beautiful eyes glimmered brightly and seemed to fill the dark tunnel with starlight.
‘In this cold universe it is the difference between yes and no, the reason life takes its chance over the barrenness of death. Theo, you have scarcely begun to understand your power. It is precious, and will grow with you as your wisdom grows. Use it well.’
Theo noticed that Tristus had grown gloomy again, his head hung low. He wondered what made Tristus so sad. Was it because he didn’t have the power? Did he miss his old friend, the original Candle Man?
‘Lord Wickland was a hero, wasn’t he?’ Theo asked.
‘Yes, he was,’ said Tristus. ‘And he was also terrible. Exactly what was needed in his time.’
Theo must have looked dismayed, for Tristus lay a consoling hand on his shoulder.
‘Your ancestor was a great man, Theo,’ the garghoul said. ‘You have a proud history to live up to.’
Theo smiled. He had always believed there would be something good about his terrible destiny. He had known it in his heart all along.
‘And you want to help me, because I’m the new Candle Man,’ Theo said, comforted.
But the garghoul’s eyes darkened to midnight blue. ‘It is not as simple as that,’ he replied.
‘Then why –’
Tristus interrupted. ‘Just because you can ask a question, it doesn’t guarantee that it has a good answer,’ he said mysteriously. ‘Or an answer that you would like to hear. Now, enough questions!’
Tristus supported Mr Nicely and helped the delirious butler to stagger along the passage. They were heading slowly upwards now. Theo felt he could almost smell the surface air.
They had reached the hatch. Memories began to flood back – of the last time Theo had stood at this secret doorway, and who he had been with, before the terrible events of the last day. He drove these thoughts away and, like an old campaigner, hit the central plaque lightly, tip tap tip.
‘This is as far as I go,’ Tristus said, helping Theo support Mr Nicely on his own young shoulders.
‘So, will I see you again?’ Theo asked. ‘There’s so much more I want to know –’
The garghoul rose into the air.
‘If you are lucky, you will never see me again,’ Tristus said. ‘For that will mean you never have need of such a – a friend.’ The garghoul flitted away into the shadows, and it seemed to Theo that the creature had been striving to conceal tears in his voice.
Theo was left in the vault beneath the cathedral, carrying Mr Nicely towards the world outside.
As he staggered towards the open cathedral door, Theo heard sirens, shouting voices, a distant helicopter. In the surface world it was three o’clock in the morning, and a damp, dismal night. Unnoticed, Theo half-fell out of the doorway and saw a courtyard filled with policemen, Foundlings under armed guard, someone carrying a dead condor.
And he saw Sam – though Sam didn’t see him – standing by an ambulance. Next to him was Magnus, lying on a stretcher, with an oxygen mask over his face. Theo collapsed to his knees and let Mr Nicely roll off his arm on to the freezing ground.
Then Theo heard someone call his name. At first he didn’t recognise the voice. It seemed to come to him out of a dream, from behind a door that should be forever closed. Then he saw someone running towards him, a big happy smile on a familiar, wonderful face. Beyond all hope, he fell into the arms of Chloe.
Chapter Thirty
Millet and Greens
There was a little old man in a brown suit and burgundy waistcoat running around getting in everyone’s way. He had a pink, well-fed face and short hair like fine silver wire. He carried an old leather briefcase and a pile of papers.
‘My name is Mr Sunder,’ he piped up. ‘I need to speak to someone!’ Sergeant Crane turned him round with two firm hands and propelled the little man back out towards the hallway.
‘Speak to someone, then,’ he said, ‘but not me!’
Empire Hall had been turned into a temporary operations centre by Inspector Finley. The immense Scotsman, in his perfectly tailored dark blue suit, beamed with delight as his men turned Dr Saint’s private study upside down. Already he knew he was sitting on a gold mine. He wanted to make sure no secrets were overlooked, and he was determined to keep the investigation as need-to-know as possible.
Several Foundlings were under armed guard in the hallway. The Mercy Tube had been cordoned off behind white tape and sported several coloured stickers saying: Hazardous Materials. Veracity, the new maid, was sitting on the floor in her nightgown crying.
The dining room had been taken over by a special mobile medical unit. Mr Nicely, who was needed for his inside knowledge of the Hall, had already been bandaged up and taken into the study to make a statement. Theo was lying on a fold-out bed, with a fracture mask on the left-hand side of his face and a tube sprouting out of his arm.
‘What you really need,’ said Chloe, passing through with a report for Sergean
t Crane, ‘is a haircut – you look ridiculous.’ Theo’s adventures had left his dark mop standing on end, and it showed no sign of wanting to lie back down.
Chloe soon came back to sit next to Theo. She was wearing her familiar grey greatcoat, with saggy camouflage trousers underneath.
‘Sounds like I missed everything.’ She sulked, sipping Theo’s glass of water. ‘You selfish lot! Storming Dr Saint’s secret base without me! Sam told me all about it.’
‘What happened up here?’ Theo was dying to know. ‘I’ve been rushed around in a police ambulance; fussed over left, right and centre; forced – by you – to give a statement, but told next to nothing! Tell me or I’ll explode!’
‘Coming from you, that’s entirely possible,’ Chloe joked. ‘So I’d better do as you say.’
Theo listened with astonishment to Chloe’s tale. She’d had no trouble escaping from the network, then a complete nightmare trying to mobilise the police. No one except Sergeant Crane seemed to believe anything she had to say. Finally, Inspector Finley had been reached at his club at about midnight.
Finley was shown the bag of evidence and went ballistic. He sent one squad of men to Empire Hall and another to investigate the secret passage under Southwark Cathedral.
‘When we got there, it all started happening,’ Chloe said. ‘I didn’t even have to show Finley the hatchway. Walking wounded started pouring out of the crypt. Society of Good Works people – engineers, soldiers, Foundlings. None of them had weapons and most of them had weird bites and scratches. They didn’t have any fight left in them.’
‘The Dodo strikes again!’ Theo grinned.
‘Shush!’ Chloe said. ‘We don’t need to tell the police everything!’ she whispered. ‘You know what that lot are like.’
Theo didn’t know what that lot were like, but he was pleased to hear Chloe talking about the police as them instead of us.
‘Seems like our pal Sir P decimated the Society of Good Works while hunting for you.’
‘So what about –’
‘Sam and Magnus surfaced with one of the groups,’ Chloe grinned. ‘The creatures hadn’t attacked them. The enemy was so demoralised after being pummelled by the Dodo’s forces, they didn’t even have Sam and Magnus under guard any more. I just explained to Finley who they were, and we called an ambulance for Magnus. Sam insisted on going to hospital with him. They are both going to be OK.’
‘Why aren’t I in hospital?’ Theo asked, glancing at his drip-tube.
‘The Mysteries must be respected,’ said Chloe with a glint in her eye. ‘I persuaded Finley that you shouldn’t be examined by conventional medicine, so there’s a special police team here. Also, I didn’t want to let anyone as disaster-prone as you out of my sight! You see – unrelenting vigilance.’ She grinned. Then her brow knitted in amused concern. ‘I’m still not sure quite what bit of your report to let old Finley see. Don’t answer any more official questions – unless I’m asking them,’ she added.
‘But what really happened to you?’ Theo pleaded. ‘I’ve asked you about a hundred times. I thought you were dead! Was it just a trick of Dr Saint’s?’
Chloe looked grave. She lay a gentle hand on Theo’s arm.
‘I’ve been trying not to tell you,’ she said. ‘You’re in such a state already.’ She sighed and took Theo’s hand.
‘No, it wasn’t a trick,’ she said finally. ‘It was Clarice.’
Theo felt a sudden lump in his throat. He blinked stupidly.
‘Clarice?’ His head swam.
‘After she helped rescue you, I told her to run away and keep her head down. But she was worried about me – and you. She turned up at Crane’s police station, but they turned her away. So she remembered one or two things I’d shown her over the years, I suppose. She found her way into the network at the Monarch Fields end. Got shot –’ Chloe paused, her feelings welling up. Clarice. Chloe’s twin sister. Theo had forgotten all about her. Miraculously, he had got Chloe back – only to lose another dear friend. Chloe took Theo’s gloved hand and held it tightly. He tried to say something, but words would not come. Kind, sensible calm Clarice was no more. While he and Chloe – the one who had been in the centre of all the danger – had survived.
‘We’ve got the guard that did it,’ Chloe said. ‘Not much left of him anyway, after those rats had a bite of him.’
Theo didn’t care about the guard. He had just realised something – and solved a mystery that had puzzled him before.
‘That explains it!’ he gabbled. ‘I thought it was weird that Mr Nicely apologised for you being killed. He didn’t even know who you were! Dr Saint didn’t either. He thought he was showing me that Clarice had been caught and punished!’
The excitement of this realisation passed and turned to misery in his heart.
‘Poor Clarice,’ he mumbled. He was recalling all those times she’d looked after him, plumped up his pillows, brought him his hot water with a sympathetic smile. He remembered the desperate nights he had poured his heart out to her, when she couldn’t hear a word he said but just soaked up the sadness he was feeling.
‘She’s the real hero of this,’ Chloe said quietly. For a moment, neither knew what to say. Then they hugged each other and cried and cried.
Chapter Thirty-one
Consequences
It was midday. Theo had slept for several hours.
Injections had taken all of the feeling out of his broken cheek, and he had been dribbling on his pillow. He sat up in bed. Every bit of him that hadn’t been injected hurt.
The calm, the silence and the solitude were nice. Theo looked around the old dining room that had been converted into a ward. He had never been in here before. The shiny mahogany panelling was much more splendid than the bare old room he had lived in. He shook his head wonderingly at his guardian’s endless deceptions, now all over.
For a moment he felt a pang of regret for the passing of his old life. What was it today, Thursday? On a Thursday, round about now, he would usually be sitting in his room, staring at the shadows on the wall, or looking through his favourite book – Woolcombe’s Bestiary of Post Diluvian Extinctions – while waiting for Clarice to bring him in a glass of warm water.
Compared to a life of panic, alchemy, smogs and slaughter, his old tedium seemed almost desirable. But now, Clarice was dead. There was no one to bring him water any more, and no one left to force him to drink it. Everything about his life had changed forever. Scary.
There was a knock on the door. Sergeant Crane, in his hideous brown suede jacket, opened the door to admit Mr Nicely. Chloe followed. The annoying silver-haired man, Mr Sunder, tried to sneak in just behind her. He was repelled by Sergeant Crane, who dragged him away down the hall.
‘I have a perfect legal right to be here …’ the man continued, but his muffled voice soon disappeared in the distance.
The room fell silent. Chloe came and sat next to Theo. Still defending me, he thought to himself.
Mr Nicely held up his bandaged hands. ‘I’ve been discharged by the doctor,’ he said, ‘but I, err … don’t think the police have entirely finished with me.’
‘Not by a long chalk,’ said Chloe.
Theo looked up at the butler with a wan smile. Mr Nicely’s torn waistcoat was hanging off him and he seemed to have lost weight.
‘They, err … said I could come and see how you were,’ Mr Nicely said, ‘before I go off for questioning.’ He hung his head.
Theo looked at the man he had known all his life, as if he were seeing his face for the first time. ‘You saved the day, Mr Nicely,’ Theo said. ‘If you hadn’t turned against Dr Saint –’
‘Don’t,’ Mr Nicely said sadly. ‘I don’t deserve any commendation for anything I’ve done.’ He pondered for a moment. He looked older; his chubby face was sagging, and his cheeks were speckled with silver stubble.
‘What made you turn against him in the end?’ Theo asked.
Mr Nicely considered deeply, then looked at Theo with cl
ear, sad eyes. ‘Well,’ he sighed, ‘I’ve been given a lot of orders over the years, mostly stupid tasks given to me by stupid people. But right at the start there was one order that stood out: “Look after Theo.” That was what the Society of Good Works asked me to do. And after all the years, and after all the rubbish I had to do, that was the one task that really meant anything to me.’
He looked down, embarrassed at the sentiment he didn’t usually show. ‘“Look after Theo,”’ he repeated to himself, with a tired smile. ‘Best orders I ever had.’
‘Thank you,’ said Theo. ‘I’m glad you decided to follow them – in the end.’
A policeman quietly entered the room and nodded at Chloe. Mr Nicely sensed his time was up.
‘It’s all a bit of a mess now – the Society of Good Works,’ Mr Nicely said quickly. ‘But when I – when I get out – I’ll be glad to come back and help out a bit … if asked, I mean.’
‘That would be good,’ Theo said. ‘Whatever’s left of the Society might be good for something one day, I suppose. Maybe you can be in charge of pretending everything is all right all the time,’ he added with a faint smile.
‘I hope to, err … give up the pretending lark and be a bit more useful than that,’ Mr Nicely replied. ‘If there ever is a next time.’
At a nod from Chloe, the policeman led the butler away. Theo watched him go, the last one of the Three who had once ruled every instant of his life. Instead of feeling happy, he felt anxious, cut adrift.
As the door was closing, the annoying little man nipped through.
‘Theo Saint?’ he asked nervously.
Theo looked up in surprise.
‘Who are you?’ Chloe groaned.
‘Don’t worry, I’ve assured Inspector Finley of my bona fides,’ he said, seating himself in the most comfortable chair in the room. ‘I’m Mr Arnold Sunder, solicitor for the Society.’