The Crown of the Bandit King

by Matti Lena Harris

  Finally, while a few lines of text are not nearly enough to acknowledge the scope of His help, my deepest thanks to Jesus Christ. This book is a tiny spark in the blinding light of His creation, but I am honored to have been one of His flints.

  A Sneak Peek

  The Cross of the Broken Knight

  The Compendium of Curious Collectibles: Book Two

  Chapter One

  The Ghost Girl

  * * *

  Ghosts.

  When Sweet Pea told me to watch out because the Ghosts might catch me, I laughed because I thought she was joking, making up stuff to mess with my head. But now?

  I wasn’t laughing.

  The recycling bin I crouched behind didn’t offer much in the way of protection, either. Not to mention the fact that it was bright blue and super sticky. A lousy hiding place, sure, but the only other spot in this park was a marble fountain, way out in the middle of a grass lawn, completely exposed. If the Ghosts found me there….

  My luck was better with the bin.

  And on this hunt, I needed all the luck I could get. Why couldn’t the Ragman have sent me to find the Pink Teddy Bear or the Rubber Chicken? At least those Collectibles weren’t breakable. I slipped my hand into my coat pocket, my fingers tingling, just to make sure the Glass Bell was still in one piece. I’d found it at a nearby junk shop and bought it for five dollars.

  Finding it was easy—protecting it from the Ghosts…not so much.

  “They don’t make any sound,” Sweet Pea had said, right before I’d left the Packrat House. “They’ll be there one minute, then gone the next. And when you think you’ve lost them, you’ll walk right into them.”

  “Sweet Pea, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this,” I’d said, “but ghosts don’t exist.”

  “Not ghosts as in spirits. I mean Ghosts as in Finders. No one knows much about them, or their Collector. Only that they work for a woman called the Gray Lady. And she’s one of the Ragman’s rivals, so be careful, Rook. Not even the Wheelers or the Choir Boys mess with the Ghosts.”

  “Why is everyone so afraid of them? If they’re Finders, then they’re just kids, right? Just like us. So what’s the big deal?”

  That was about the time I’d laughed.

  Stupid.

  Maybe on the other side of the park, closer to the bordering woods, I’d find a way to escape. I peered around the side of the bin, but there was no sign of any Ghosts. No sign of anyone, actually. The park benches stood empty while beneath them the grass sparkled wet and fresh cut, with no footprints.

  Seemed safe enough. Those woods looked a million miles away, though.

  “They’re just kids,” I whispered to myself. “Slow kids. I can outrace them. Then I’ll lose them in the woods. Probably.”

  Not much of a pep talk. I inhaled a deep breath and gave myself a countdown.

  Three. Two. One.

  I dashed across the lawn, my heart pounding. My foot caught on a sprinkler, but I pushed ahead all the way to the fountain. Halfway to the woods, and the perfect place for an ambush. I clenched my fists, ready for a fight, but the fountain was clear.

  No Ghosts.

  Finally, I plunged into the forest, where the deeper shadows and tangled trees provided more cover. To my right, I spotted a huge mossy tree stump, so I dove behind it and held my breath, listening. It was pretty rare for Sweet Pea to be wrong about anything. But if the Ghosts were so easy to lose, if all it took was a sticky recycling bin and a bunch of trees, then maybe the Ghosts weren’t such a big deal after all.

  Or maybe not.

  From behind a big oak to my left, two Ghosts appeared. Both of them looked exactly the same—blue jeans, sneakers, and white hoodies. All the Ghosts dressed that way, and always with their hoods up…the spookiest thing about them. Like they didn’t even have faces.

  Except for one. A girl. Kind of pale. With blond hair, blue eyes. And a scar, running from her right eyebrow to her hairline. That was how Sweet Pea had said I’d recognize her, by her scar. Rumor had it she was the Ghosts’ leader, but Sweet Pea hadn’t been able to tell me anything more about her.

  No one even knew the girl’s name.

  I didn’t see the girl, though, so maybe she wasn’t here. The bushes over to my right rustled, and when I glanced back at the two Ghosts by the oak tree, they had disappeared.

  Okay. Definitely spooky.

  Still, this could be my chance to escape. I hunched down to make another run for it, but then a Ghost reached out from the other side of the stump, grabbed my coat collar, and yanked me to my feet.

  Wait, the Ghosts had been in the bushes—hadn’t they?

  No time to stay surprised. With my full weight, I shoved the Ghost who held me and broke free. Another Ghost grabbed me from behind, but they weren’t getting me without a fight. I twisted out from that Ghost’s hold, too.

  And I ran.

  A Ghost appeared in front of me, so I made a dodge to the left. Then I dodged to the right when another Ghost came at me from the side. Another one ahead.

  Ghosts. Everywhere.

  Maybe these kids weren’t human after all. No normal kid could move like they moved—silent, invisible, unpredictable. As if they had magic wings. A crazy thought, maybe, but still I peered at the treetops just to be sure there weren’t any Ghosts flying around up there. Bad idea. With a grunt, I tripped on a tree root and fell to my knees. Before I had time to pull myself up again, my arms were held tight, a Ghost on each side.

  So much for my escape.

  “You can’t have it,” I said.

  Then I felt a hand slide into my pocket, and I glanced up. The hand belonged to the blond girl with the scar, the leader of the Ghosts. She regarded me while the two Ghosts hauled me to my feet.

  “You’re the Ragman’s newest Finder, aren’t you?” she asked. “The boy who only wears black. I’ve heard a lot about you. Not that I believe much of it. I’m curious, though. Why do you always dress like that?”

  Honestly, I couldn’t tell her the reason because I didn’t know. Not that I was going to admit it to her.

  “Why do you have a scar?” I asked.

  “Fine. Keep your secrets. Doesn’t matter to me.”

  Then she raised the Glass Bell up to the sunlight. It was slightly smaller than a teacup, perfectly clear, with no ornamentation. And silent. The Glass Bell never made any sound.

  She grinned at it. “Looks like you’re not as good as they say you are.”

  “You have no idea how much that bell means to me,” I said. “I don’t care where you go or where you hide it. I’ll find it again. I promise.”

  “Not if you never walk again, you won’t.”

  A third Ghost appeared beside her and handed her a pair of white shoes. My stomach gave a jolt at the sight of them. Magic. And trouble. Whatever those shoes did, it was not good. She dangled the shoes in front of my face, swinging them by the giant knot that bound their laces together.

  “The Soccer Cleats,” she said. “Messy, but very effective. They adore kicking, and if there’s no ball, then a person’s head will do just as well.”

  “You already have what you want. But you’re still going to torture me anyway?”

  “You’re too new. You don’t understand. So I’m going to have to teach you.”

  “Teach me what?”

  “To fear.”

  Yikes. This Ghost girl was a psycho. In her spare time, when she wasn’t pounding other kids into submission, she must’ve enjoyed kicking puppies and feeding baby mice to snakes.

  “I fear lots of things,” I said. “Clowns. Small spaces. Ants, even. Don’t tell Sweet Pea about that last one….”

  Does everyone ramble nervously before they’re subjected to torture? Or was it just me?

  Probably it was just me.

  The Ghost girl hesitated, staring at me with her head tilted to the side like maybe my nonsensical babbling confounded her momentarily. Then she swallowed once and looked away.

  �
�I have to do this. If no one fears the Ghosts, then the Ghosts are nothing.”

  She started untying the knot in the shoelaces, keeping her eyes down. But the Ghost who was standing beside her, the one who’d brought the cleats, turned in my direction. Not much. But it was enough that I saw her face. They were identical, the girl and the Ghost beside her. Same height. Same blond hair. Same blue eyes.

  As if one heartless, puppy-kicking crazy-girl wasn’t enough for the world.

  “You have a twin sister?” I asked.

  The girl’s eyebrows furrowed, and she drew in a quick gasp.

  “What are you doing!” she yelled at her twin. “I told you never to show your face! Never, ever show your face!”

  She slapped her twin across the mouth so hard that her twin stumbled backward. I felt the two Ghosts who were holding me flinch, their grips loosening.

  “Get out of my sight!” she screamed, and her twin faded, then vanished.

  Now or never.

  I jerked my arms free and tackled the girl from the front. She landed on her back, and for a second she just lay there, her lip bleeding. I frowned at the blood pooling at the corner of her mouth. Did I do that? But I had only knocked her down. I hadn’t touched her face at all.

  “Sorry,” I said.

  Then I snatched the Glass Bell from her hand, and the other Ghosts did nothing to stop me.

  “No!” she cried. “I need that! If I don’t have it…if I don’t…. Boy in black, please!”

  But I only heard her from a distance. I’d already pocketed the bell and bolted for the edge of the woods, leaving her far behind.

  Besides, however badly she needed the Glass Bell, I needed it way more.

  The woods ended abruptly at a long, red brick wall, which meant I must’ve found the park’s perimeter. No door here, though, so I pulled a small tin box from my coat pocket.

  “Please let this work,” I whispered.

  Using the Sidewalk Chalk for something like this was tricky. I had to get the drawing just right—all the lines had to connect. From the tin, I selected the brown piece and drew a line on the wall. My hand shook, making the line crooked. Like always. I lifted the chalk to draw another line, my back to the woods.

  Not smart.

  Because there was no sound to warn me. Just pain. Like someone had hit me with a baseball bat from behind. The chalk slipped from my fingers as I gritted my teeth. More pain near my knee, so I spun around.

  Only to be kicked in the face.

  When I opened my eyes, I was on the ground with dirt and blood in my mouth. But at last, I caught a blurry glimpse of my attacker—the Soccer Cleats. That Ghost girl must’ve sent the shoes to hunt me down. She was right about one thing—they really loved to kick. The shoes aimed another blow at my head, and when I blocked them with my arm, they kicked my stomach instead.

  There had to be a way to stop them before they clobbered me to death.

  “Stop! Please!” I shouted. “Goal! Goal! You win!”

  A kick to my wrist. I winced, then snatched at the shoe, and it came untied.

  Shoelaces.

  Every Collectible had a weakness, even a pair of evil soccer cleats. The other shoe kicked my hand, trying to get me to drop its mate, but I seized it too. They jerked and tugged and flailed, but in the end, I tied their shoelaces together in a big knot anyway.

  “Bad shoes!” I scolded.

  Finally, they stopped struggling. I set them down on the ground, but they’d already cost me precious time. The Ghosts would catch up with me any minute now. The piece of chalk. Where did it go? It must’ve been buried during my scuffle with the cleats.

  “Stop right there!” the Ghost girl called.

  She stepped out from behind a nearby tree. Then she started inching towards me with her hands held up like I was some wild animal that she didn’t want to spook away.

  “It doesn’t have to be this way,” she continued. “There’s no reason to fight. We could make a deal. The Gray Lady is very interested in having the Glass Bell.”

  Oh, so now the Ghost girl wanted to make peace? I spit blood at the ground.

  “It’s not for sale.”

  “A trade, then? I’m sure there must be something the Gray Lady has that the Ragman wants. Name your price.”

  “I’m not authorized to bargain for him. I’ll relay your offer. That’s all I can promise.”

  At last, I spotted the brown piece of chalk half-hidden beneath some leaves, so I scooped it up and finished my chalk lines. The last thing to draw was a doorknob, complete with a lock, and the instant I did, my drawing became a real door. The Ghost girl stared, her eyes wide, while I returned the chalk to my pocket.

  “Wait,” she said. “Don’t go. Please.”

  I paused. She was crazy and cruel, sure, but right then, her voice had trembled. For a girl who was so good at making other people afraid, it made me wonder.

  What was she afraid of?

  I shuffled my foot in the dirt and glanced at the Soccer Cleats. My cheek still throbbed from that kick to my face.

  “I’m sorry about the shoes,” the girl said, following my gaze. “Really. I am.”

  She was sorry? That seemed like a stretch. Probably she’d say anything to make me let my guard down. If my friend Deeter were here, he’d call me the world’s biggest sucker for even thinking about helping a Ghost. And if Sweet Pea were here, she’d give me one of those looks. Don’t do anything stupid—that was what her face would say.

  “What will she do to you?” I asked.

  “Who?”

  “Your Collector. The Gray Lady. What will she do if you don’t return with the Glass Bell? Will she hurt you? Punish you?”

  The girl shut her eyes.

  “How bad?” I asked.

  She shook her head. For a minute we both stood there, silent.

  Then she opened her eyes, and she looked up at the wall behind me.

  “Stop following me!” she cried. “I already told you! It’s mine! You can’t have it! Leave me alone!”

  Had she lost her mind? Who was she talking to?

  I turned around.

  A woman stood on top of the wall, watching us. On her face, she wore a white porcelain mask, like something from a horror movie. As for her clothes, she wore this bright red mini skirt, with high black leather boots and a black, leather jacket. Her hair was bright red too, long and wild. Made me wonder if the woman was about to go clubbing. Or star in a really strange shampoo commercial.

  “You know that woman?” I asked the girl.

  “When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain?” The woman laughed. “I never would have thought I’d find you both together! That’s like two for the price of admission! A double matinee! Oh, we are going to have soooo much fun!”

  She pulled a spool of dark colored thread from her purse. My stomach flipped, and I heard a small gasp from the Ghost girl. She must have felt it, too.

  “The Black Thread,” she whispered, backing away.

  “Catch the Ghost. Don’t let her escape like last time,” the woman said to the spool. “Kill her if you must.”

  She tossed the spool onto the ground, where the thread started unraveling, uncoiling. Slithering towards the girl.

  Then the woman’s eyes met mine. “But don’t kill the boy. Leave that to me.”

  The Cross of the Broken Knight is available now! Download and enjoy your copy today!

  Also by Matti Lena Harris

  The Compendium of Curious Collectibles Series

  The Crown of the Bandit King (Book One)

  The Cross of the Broken Knight (Book Two)

  A Curious Christmas Carol: A Companion Christmas Novella

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