by Jenny Nimmo
There was a buzz of surprise as the children uttered cries of "Wow! Centuries?" "Do you mean like hundreds and hundreds of years?"
Charlie said, "It's kind of happening now, isn't it? I mean, with the Bloors trying to control everyone, and Uncle Paton fighting them when they go too far ..."
"And your ghastly grandma always against you," said Benjamin.
"Shush!" Uncle Paton lifted his hand. "If you want to hear what Miss Ingiedew has to say, kindly let her continue."
The children immediately fell silent.
Miss Ingiedew smiled around at everyone. "As I said, the killing went on for centuries. The land around the castle was a constant battleground, until in the eighteenth century, a fire destroyed almost every building in the city. Only this small area around the cathedral was saved, everything else had to be rebuilt.
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It was at this time that the Bloor family erected a grand mansion on the grounds of the ruined castle."
"Bloor's Academy!" Charlie proclaimed.
"Exactly," Miss Ingledew confirmed. "Although at that time it was called Bloor House, I believe."
Benjamin, who was now scowling with impatience, said, "I don't see what all this has got to do with the ground shivering."
"No, of course not. I'm sorry. I'll explain," said Miss Ingledew. "It has to do with the history: all the troubled lives, the hatred, the fear, all buried under the ashes, under the ground, and under the city, all... She pressed the fingers of her two hands together. "All contained and yet... She glanced at Billy's ashen face. "Oh dear, I'm frightening you."
"You're not. You're not," cried Billy. "Please go on."
Miss Ingledew continued hesitantly. "Well, it occurred to me that certain of the more evil spirits - could be - er, restless...."
"Like someone turning in their grave," Charlie suggested eagerly.
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"That's one way of putting it." She gave a light chuckle. "But really, Charlie, I meant that something, or someone, might have woken them up."
"And that's why the ground shivered," Billy broke in. "The Flame cats said they had to stop something being found."
"A key, no doubt," said Uncle Paton with a small yawn.
Charlie knew that his uncle's slightly bored tone belied his curiosity and he asked, "You don't mean an actual key, do you?"
"No, Charlie. More of an artifact, an item that would connect an ancient spirit with our world."
Billy suddenly leaped up. "Animals can sense things, you know. That's why they've all gone. If something from the past has woken up, it's brought memories with it: battles and fires, the pain and the terrible sounds. No wonder they ran away."
"I don't see how all this helps me!" cried Benjamin. "I mean, maybe I'll never, ever find my dog again."
The dreadful prospect of a city without animals
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of any kind suddenly dawned on everyone at the same time.
"It's like being under a curse," Emma remarked.
Uncle Paton didn't hold with such pessimism. "You're all being too gloomy," he said. "I'm sure the situation's temporary. Pretty soon that rat will wake up and tell you where they've all gone."
But Rembrandt didn't wake up. He lay in Billy's pocket all day, his only sign of life a very weak heartbeat.
On Sunday, a north wind blew clouds of freezing sleet into the city, and only the foolhardy ventured out.
Charlie and Billy played video games while Rembrandt, tucked in Billy's bed, emitted a faint ratty snore. A particularly violent gust of wind sent a slate crashing into the road and Charlie went to the window. There, sheltering beneath the bare chestnut tree, he saw the figure in yellow again. He was quite sure it was the person he had glimpsed ducking into an alley the day before. But this time, in spite of the
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sleet, he got a better look at her. If he wasn't mistaken she was Asian. Her coat was sunshine yellow. It had a loose hood and her black shoulder-length hair was held away from her face by a shiny butterfly clip.
When the girl saw Charlie, she smiled and raised her hand. Charlie waved back. As soon as he did this, the girl's smile widened, and then she ran off.
"Wait!" cried Charlie.
"Who are you talking to?" asked Billy.
"That girl." Charlie rushed out of the room. He leaped downstairs and ran across the hall. Flinging open the front door he called up the street, "Wait! Who are you?"
But the girl in the sunshine coat kept running until she was out of sight.
"What girl?" asked Billy when Charlie returned.
"Just a girl. She seems to know me, but she ran off."
Rembrandt gave a sudden squeak and sat up.
"Look, he's awake." Billy picked up the rat and began talking in his strange, piping rat-speak.
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Rembrandt appeared to be listening. When Billy fell silent, the rat replied with a few weary squeaks.
Billy frowned. "He says he can't remember anything."
"What! He can't remember how he got to the sanctuary, or whatever it was?"
Billy spoke to Rembrandt again. He was answered in the same weak tones of an exhausted rat.
"He's got a picture of the place in his head, but he's completely forgotten how he got there."
"Then how are we going to find the other animals?" Charlie demanded.
"Don't know. But Rembrandt couldn't walk all that way again, even if he wanted to." Billy lifted one of the rat's feet. "Look, his pads are really sore, and he's lost a claw."
Charlie observed the rat's small feet. They certainly looked the worse for wear. He dropped gloomily onto his bed and thought of Benjamin, waiting seven long months to see Runner Bean, only to find that the dog he idolized had vanished. Charlie felt responsible.
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Perhaps if he had taken better care of Runner, he wouldn't have run away.
"It's not your fault, Charlie," said Billy gently. "Grandma Bone would've killed Runner or sent him to an animal shelter. And anyway he was happy at the Pets' Cafe."
"I wonder if the animals will come back," mused Charlie, "or if they've all gone for good."
Later that evening Maisie came to fetch Rembrandt. She told the boys she would keep the rat in her room, safe from Grandma Bone, and return him to Mr. Onimous on Monday.
In the meantime, Charlie and Billy had to pack for the new school term. They worked in silence, folding their blue capes and white shirts, and tucking books, shoes, and socks at the bottom of their bags, each of them thinking of the new term ahead. Charlie wondered what the situation would be like in the King's room, where the descendants of the Red King held their silent battles during homework hours. At the
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end of the previous term, Charlie and his friends had seemed to gain the upper hand, but he knew the peace was temporary. The other five had been revealed as powerful enemies. There was bound to be conflict among the Children of the Red King.
The next morning, when Charlie stepped inside the tall doors of Bloor's Academy, he noticed that many of the children looked depressed. The rule of silence was not the only reason for the gloomy atmosphere. Shoulders were hunched, eyes downcast, and huge sighs were emitted as children found their way through the crowd and into the right coatrooms.
"Deary me, what a gloomy shower!" Manfred Bloor pushed his way through the throng. "What's the matter with you all? Give us a smile, Emma! Gabriel Silk, you look like you're at a funeral. Move out of my way, you moron."
Manfred had suddenly come face-to-face with Lysander Sage. Charlie noticed that his friend was
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now almost as tall as the headmaster's son. Lysander, w
earing a look of grim determination, silently stood his ground.
"Move!" bellowed Manfred.
"Say 'please'!"
The children around the two young men instantly drew back, leaving Manfred and Lysander isolated in the center of the hall. Manfred's pale face had turned bright red. He scowled at Lysander, his black eyes narrowing and his eyebrows drawn into a furious line above his long nose.
Charlie held his breath. If Lysander didn't move quickly, he'd be hypnotized. Everyone in the hall was aware of the danger. Many of them had already been the victims of Manfred's paralyzing gaze, including Charlie.
Move, Sander, move, Charlie silently implored his friend.
But Lysander wouldn't give way.
Manfred opened his mouth. A horrible gurgle came out. He was trying to threaten detention, but
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with a snort of contempt, Lysander slipped away and went into the green coatroom.
Charlie stood still, amazed by what he had seen. Manfred Bloor had failed to hypnotize or intimidate Lysander, and now he appeared to be in shock. He glared into the distance, horror and disbelief written across his bony face.
Billy tugged Charlie's cape. "We'd better get out of here," he whispered.
His warning came too late.
"What are you gawking at, Bone?" shouted Manfred, now even more furious than before.
"Nothing ... I just... I thought I'd lost something."
"Your wits, most likely." Manfred turned abruptly and marched over to the prefects' room.
Charlie felt like shouting something rude at his back, but Billy pulled him into the blue coatroom. They were met by a buzz of conversation. At least ten children had lost their pets. Gabriel Silk looked even more forlorn than usual. Twenty of his gerbils were missing, also three ducks and his mother's pet goat.
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"That's not as bad as losing your dog," whined Gwyneth Howells, a moaner if ever there was one.
"Losing a cat's worse than losing a dog," argued a small girl in a cape that was two sizes too large for her.
Fidelio Gunn was tuning his violin, oblivious to the conversation going on around him.
"Fido, what about your cat? Pudding, isn't it?" Charlie sat on the bench beside his friend.
"Pudding? What about her?" Fidelio bent over his violin and tightened a string. "She's fine. Deaf as a post, of course."
"You must've heard what's been going on. Everyone's pet has ..." Charlie paused, struck by a sudden thought. "Of course, your cat's deaf." He pictured Fidelio's house, crammed with musical children, strumming and drumming, singing and thumping. Gunn House positively rocked with sound - but surely, not at midnight.
"Did anything special happen in your house on Saturday night?" Charlie asked.
Yeah." Fidelio hummed a note. "Felix has his
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band over. They were in the cellar but they still made a lot of noise. Dad kicked them out around one a.m."
"That explains it," said Charlie. "Pudding wouldn't have felt a thing." He stood up, aware that the coat-room was now empty. "Come on, we'll be late for assembly."
At first break, an atmosphere of gloom lay over the playing field. Charlie was surprised by the number of children who kept a pet of some sort. He passed little knots of dejected owners discussing their lost animals: dogs, cats, rabbits, even iguanas, snakes, and bush babies. Where had they gone, and why? Would they come back, and when?
Charlie had no doubt that the finger of suspicion would eventually fall on the Children of the Red King. They were usually blamed for unusual happenings.
Miss Chrystal, the violin teacher, gave Charlie a cheery wave from the door. "Are you all right, Charlie?" she called. "You look lost."
"I was just looking for Fidelio, Miss Chrystal," said Charlie.
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"Ah. He's waiting for a music lesson. I'm late." Miss Chrystal popped back inside.
Charlie envied Fidelio. He had the youngest and prettiest music teacher in the school. Charlie had old Mr. Paltry with his bad temper and smoker's cough.
"Hi, Charlie!"
Charlie turned to see Tancred and Lysander walking around the field together. Tancred beckoned to him. When Charlie ran up to them, Lysander's usual, welcoming smile was absent. He stared moodily into the distance, as if Charlie wasn't even there.
"Hey, it was great, you standing up to Manfred like that," Charlie said encouragingly.
Still no smile. Yeah." Lysander stared grimly ahead.
"His parrot's gone," Tancred explained. "You know - Homer."
"All the animals have gone," said Charlie. "They went during the snowstorm on Saturday. But we'll get them back, I know we will."
Tancred said quickly, "About the snow, Charlie. It
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was me. I brought it, but I swear I had nothing to do with the animals."
"You!" said Charlie. "No wonder. I thought there was something weird about that stuff."
Tancred looked slightly offended. "I thought I did a pretty good job, actually."
"But why snow?" asked Charlie.
"The Flame cats made me do it." Tancred ran a hand through his spiky yellow hair. "I'm not sure why."
"They came to see me, too," said Charlie, almost to himself. "Maybe they were trying to stop something from being found, and the snow helped, for a while, but in the end someone got to an object that connects our world to a kind of - ancient spirit." Charlie drew a breath. The two older boys were staring at him with a mixture of fascination and disbelief.
"Go on," said Lysander.
"Well, when that happened, the earth shuddered. At least that's what Rembrandt told Billy. The animals felt the shudder and they were all so frightened, they fled."
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"Where to?" Lysander demanded. "My parrot's gone and I want him back. I need him."
Charlie gave a defeated shrug. "Rembrandt said they all went across the river. He came back, but now he can't remember how he got to - wherever they all went."
"Useless rat," Lysander grunted.
Charlie was disappointed to find a tough character like Lysander so dependent on a parrot. He was about to defend Rembrandt when the horn sounded for the end of break and the boys headed back toward the school.
As a crowd of children filed through the garden door, Charlie was astonished to see a familiar figure walking among them. It was Benjamin's mother, Mrs. Brown.
"That's your friend's mom, Charlie," Tancred observed. "Is Benjamin coming to Bloor's?"
Charlie shook his head. "No. He would have said. What's she doing here?"
"She's a private investigator, so she's probably
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investigating," said Lysander. "Hey, maybe she's come to find out about the disappearing animals. They probably think it's one of us." He gave a bitter laugh.
Mrs. Brown suddenly looked over her shoulder and met Charlie's gaze. She quickly turned away and stepped through the door.
"She's acting like she doesn't know me," said Charlie incredulously.
"You're under suspicion, Charlie Bone," said Tancred with a mocking grin. "See you later, animal evaporator." He flew after Lysander, who was already several strides ahead.
"What...?" Charlie stood with his mouth open.
Tancred was joking, of course, but it was no joke to have your oldest friend's mother deliberately avoiding you.
"I can always count on you to be last." Asa Pike, the head prefect, smirked at Charlie from inside the hall. "I'm going to lock this door in ten sec -"
"NO!" Charlie leaped over the step and skidded to a halt beside Asa.
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<
br /> "Did you have a nice Christmas holiday?" There was a sneer behind Asa's every remark.
Charlie chose to ignore the sneer and replied, "Great, thanks. And you?"
Asa's weaselly face twitched. He tucked a greasy strand of orange hair behind his ear and said, "Of course. Get moving or you'll be late for class."
Charlie hastened across the hall, leaving Asa to lock the door. There was something unusual about the prefect's behavior. He had seemed nervous and ill at ease, Asa was the oldest student in the school and should have been head boy, but having failed all of last year's exams, he had been passed over for Riley Burns, a bossy know-it-all and champion athlete.
Could Asa's humiliation have accounted for his nervousness? Charlie wasn't sure. And then a thought struck him. When dusk fell, Asa had been known to change his shape; he could become a long-snouted, crooked-backed, wolfish creature. Perhaps, like other animals, he too had felt the earth shudder. Charlie
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decided to observe the prefect during homework, when they would sit at the same table in the King's room.
That evening, Charlie was the first person through the black doors of the King's room. He looked around the high-ceilinged, circular room, its curved walls lined with shelves of leather-bound books. There was space for only one picture; a huge gilt-framed painting of the Red King.
Charlie liked to sit where he could see the painting, and as he arranged his books on the large round table, the other endowed children began to arrive.
First came Joshua Tilpin, a small boy with a mousy face, big ears, and crooked teeth. As usual he wore a dusting of chalk, paper, leaves, and twigs; Joshua was magnetic in more ways than one. Next came the telekinetic twins, Idith and Inez, and then Billy Raven made a furtive entrance. Sidling toward Charlie, he Whispered, "I've got something to tell you."
But Charlie barely heard him. He was staring at the king's portrait. He knew it so well. He had gazed so often at the dark face, its features blurred by cracks in
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the ancient paint. The king wore a slim, gold crown and a red cloak, its deep folds darkened and stained with age. Charlie had longed to enter the painting and walk in the distant world of the Red King, but something always prevented him. A dark shadow stood behind the king, a mysterious figure that blocked Charlie's every attempt to reach his ancestor. But now -