Demelza & the Spectre Detectors

by Holly Rivers

  Demelza gasped. There was something strangely familiar about these men. She was sure she’d seen them before, but couldn’t for the life of her place where.

  ‘This must be where they do them magic spells!’ said the taller man, sniffing around the room like a wild beast. His voice was low and guttural, as if he were wrenching his words from the very pit of his throat. ‘Turn it over, Gregor! Leave no place unchecked.’

  ‘All right, bruv!’ Gregor replied.

  And without even pausing for a moment, the pair began their attack. With every crash and every bang, Demelza’s stomach turned, and she could feel Archimedes wriggling around in her pocket, his little body vibrating with fear.

  ‘Hey, look at this, Boris,’ said Gregor, putting one of Grandma’s masks to his face and stomping around like a monster. ‘It’s like a better lookin’ version of you!’

  ‘Oi! Give me that!’ shouted Boris, wrenching the mask from his brother’s hand before giving him a clout over the head. ‘We’ve got work to do, stupid! Especially as it was you who snatched the wrong girl in the forest earlier and made the boss so angry. If you hadn’t made such a big mistake in the first place then we wouldn’t have had to come ’ere at all.’

  Gregor frowned. ‘Well, all kids seem the same to me – small and smelly. And besides, she had red hair, didn’t she? It was hard to tell who was who with those stupid masks they all had on.’

  ‘There’s always an excuse with you! Now let’s hurry up and find Demelza. I’m starvin’.’

  Demelza clenched her fists to her mouth to stop herself from gasping. Somersaulting satellites! Gregor was the hooded figure at the Dance with Death, and he’d been attempting to kidnap her all along. So, these brothers must be working for Ms Cardinal! How else would they have known to pinpoint her? How would they have known her name? Ms Cardinal was the only person, except for Grandma Maeve and Percy, who knew about her new powers.

  Demelza desperately wanted to fling open the door and stop the brothers in their tracks. She knew that would be reckless, though – these men might sound stupid, but they were obviously extremely vicious.

  ‘Well, it don’t look like she’s ’ere,’ said Boris after a while. ‘Let’s go and ’ave one last look up in the cottage. But if we don’t find her it’s gonna ’ave to be Plan B.’

  ‘And after that we can raid the pantry!’ said Gregor, licking his dry lips. ‘I fink I saw a nice piece of pork pie in there earlier.’

  The two men retreated, and as they made for the ladder Demelza breathed a huge sigh of relief. She leant back against the shelf, allowing her body to relax for a second. But as her legs stretched out, her foot made contact with one of the glass jars on the floor and—

  SMAAAASH!

  ‘Hang on! What was that?’ came Gregor’s voice. ‘I fink I heared somefink back in there.’ He scuttled back into the summoning chamber and pointed in the direction of the store cupboard. ‘There’s someone in there!’

  Demelza’s chest tightened and she edged backwards. It suddenly felt as if there was no door between her and the men at all, as if Gregor’s bulging arm was a gun pointing directly to her head. She frantically looked around for an escape route, but there was nowhere to turn.

  ‘Come on, little girl,’ said Boris. ‘You don’t need to hide. We just wanna have a little chat, that’s all.’

  ‘Yeah, why don’t you come out?’ added Gregor, rubbing his hands together. ‘We’ve got a nice little dolly-wolly for you to play with.’

  On any other occasion, Demelza would have made it perfectly clear that she’d rather eat her own eyeballs than play with stupid dolls, but she felt that perhaps now wasn’t the time to be self-righteous. Instead, she inched backwards to the large sack of flour which was slumped against the furthest wall, and cowered behind it.

  ‘OK,’ said Gregor. ‘I’m gonna give you to the count of ten, and if you don’t come out nicely, I’m comin’ to getcha. One . . . two . . . three . . .’

  Demelza’s stomach turned as she listened to the sinister pleasure in the man’s voice. Realistically, she only had two options – either stay put and definitely be kidnapped, or try and make a run for it and possibly be kidnapped.

  ‘Four . . . five . . . six . . . erm . . . what comes next, bruv?’

  ‘Seven, you bozo!’

  Demelza raised herself on to her haunches and breathed deeply. As soon as Gregor opened the door she’d make a dash for it. It was her only hope.

  ‘Eight . . . nine . . .TEN! Ready or not, here I come!’

  Footsteps approached and a large hairy hand reached around the door. With blood pounding in her ears, Demelza prepared to move.

  But all of a sudden she felt something scratching against her skin. She glanced down to find Archimedes clawing his way out of her pocket, and before she could push him back he’d scrambled down her body on to her trouser leg. ‘Archimedes, no!’ she whispered, trying to make a grab for him. ‘Come back!’

  It was too late.

  The little mouse slipped through the crack in the door, his long pink tail twisting in the air, as if waving a final goodbye. Demelza’s face fell into her hands. Archimedes, what have you done?

  Then something surprising happened.

  One of the brothers began to scream.

  ‘ARGHH! GET IT OFF ME! GET IT OFF ME! ARGHHHHHHHH!’

  Demelza quickly put an eye back to the crack in the door, and couldn’t help but choke back a laugh. There, flailing his arms around as if doing some kind of celtic jig, was Gregor, and gnawing down on the little finger of his right hand was Archimedes!

  ‘Help me, you idiot!’ he cried to his brother. ‘Get this rat off me! It’s massive!’ The colour had drained from his cheeks, and his voice had risen so many octaves that it had taken on the falsetto tones of a church choirboy.

  ‘I ain’t touchin’ it!’ said Boris, leaping to the other side of the room. ‘It might have rabies or somefink!’

  ‘Bleedin’ ’eck!’ cried Gregor. With a violent jolt of his beefy shoulder he catapulted Archimedes across the room, where he hit the opposite wall with a thump.

  Demelza’s hands shot to her mouth, her eyes stinging with the saltiness of tears.

  ‘There – that showed ’im!’ stuttered Gregor, cracking his knuckles as he edged proudly towards the limp creature. He tapped Archimedes with the tip of his boot, making sure that he wasn’t moving. ‘No vermin messes with me. Now let’s get outta here. The girl’s obviously not here, and this place is givin’ me the creeps.’

  The two brothers scrambled back up the ladder, and as soon as she heard them leave the greenhouse, Demelza flung open the store-cupboard door. ‘Archimedes!’ she cried, running across the room and scooping the little ball of fur into her arms. ‘Oh, please be OK! Please be OK . . .’

  At first the animal didn’t move. His eyes were closed, his pink tongue hanging from the side of his mouth like a tiny limp sausage. But as Demelza stroked the fur on his back, his whiskers began to twitch and he eventually let out a muted squeak.

  ‘Oh, Archimedes, thank goodness!’ said Demelza, giving him a kiss on his nose. ‘You definitely deserve some extra-crunchy carrots for breakfast. But first, let’s go and find Grandma Maeve.’

  She made to stand, but Archimedes had begun to wriggle again, and with a little yelp he hopped from Demelza’s grasp once more and dashed across the stone floor. His whiskers were guiding him like the prongs of a divining rod, and soon enough he stopped at the bottom of the ladder. His nose quivered upwards towards the rungs, as if he were trying to tell Demelza something.

  ‘What? What is it, boy?’ she asked, striding forward and bending down. ‘What have you—?’

  Demelza stopped mid-sentence. There, dangling from a piece of black ribbon which had caught on one of the lower rungs, was a key!

  Demelza quickly untangled it and let the key hang in front of her eyes. It was aged and weighty, with two crescent moons engraved into its rusted metal. ‘They must have dropped it,’ she whis
pered excitedly. ‘Those two buffoons have left a vital piece of evidence! Ha!’

  She popped Archimedes on to her shoulder and when she was certain that the coast was clear, she ran back across the garden.

  ‘Grandma,’ she whispered, opening the door to the kitchen. ‘Grandma Maeve, it’s me . . .’

  But no sooner had Demelza stepped inside than she came to a halt.

  The kitchen looked as if it had been whipped up by a tornado. Pictures had been ripped from the walls, chairs lay in pieces, and Grandma’s recipe books were strewn across the floor like paper birds. The pantry had been completely ransacked, its shelves now bare.

  Demelza inched forward slowly, crunching across an icy tundra of shattered glass. A broom lay across her path, and she picked it up, ready to bring it down on to someone’s head if necessary.

  ‘Grandma? Shiver?’ she whispered, making her way into the hallway. But there was no sign of anyone – human or dog. Her voice was trembling, barely there. ‘Grandma. If you’re here, please say something, please—’

  Then she saw it.

  On the floor, snapped in two, was Grandma’s walking stick.

  CHAPTER 20

  The Ransom Note

  Under the broken walking stick was a note. As if in a dream, Demelza unfolded it and read:

  FOR THE ATTENTION OF DEMELZA CLOCK,

  IF YOU WANT TO SEE YOUR grandmother AND DOG Alive Again, COME to SOURBANK Bridge AT 11 P.M. ON 31 OCTOBER.

  BE PREPARED TO PERFORM The Conjuring Of Resurrection.

  Do not Contact the Police, and Come Alone. Failure to Comply with these instructions will Result in Very Unpleasant Consequences for Both your Grandmother and your Canine Companion.

  Demelza’s stomach turned. The words in front of her began to swell in and out of focus and she felt as if she might vomit at any second. This was the Plan B that Boris had talked about earlier! Plan B was to kidnap Grandma Maeve and Shiver! To use them as leverage!

  ‘Oh, Grandma . . .’ Demelza cried, dropping to the floor. ‘Grandma, what have I done?’

  All of her worst fears had come true. Ms Cardinal had struck and it was all her fault. Why had she taken that notebook to school? Why had she drawn those stupid, stupid pictures? Why hadn’t she made Grandma believe her suspicions?

  ‘HELP! HELP!’

  Demelza flinched. A muffled cry was coming from the corner nearest the front door. She turned to look, but all she could see was the messy pile of coats and hats and scarves which had been thrown from the hooks on the wall.

  ‘Who is it?’ she demanded. ‘Who’s there?’

  ‘It’s me!’ came the muted voice once more. ‘On the floor. Underneath the clothes!’

  Demelza groped her way along the hallway and began to rifle through the mess. She pulled back a blue anorak and there, looking up at her, was Lord Balthazar.

  ‘Oh, my goodness!’ Demelza yelped, picking up the Talking Head. As she dusted off his scalp, he let out a loud groan. There was a long crack creeping upwards from his left eye socket and a few of his teeth were missing. ‘Lord Balthazar, are you OK?’

  ‘Oh, the pain, the pain!’ he moaned. ‘My poor, poor head! One minute I was in the middle of a lovely dream about having a body and the next I was on the floor.’

  Demelza set Lord Balthazar on a side table. She couldn’t think straight, fear and worry draining all of her brain-power. Halloween was tomorrow! What should she do? Set out to find Grandma now? Or was it wiser just to follow the instructions on the ransom note and go to Sourbank Bridge tomorrow night?

  Just then, the telephone rang. Demelza glanced at the hall clock and was shocked to see it was gone 7 a.m. – she must have been hiding in the store cupboard for far longer than she’d thought.

  She quickly righted herself. Maybe it was Grandma Maeve? Maybe she’d managed to escape and had found a phone box somewhere? All of a sudden, Demelza’s stomach was a tinderbox waiting for a spark of hope, and she sprinted to the sitting room to pick up the receiver.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Oh hello, Demelza dear,’ came a crackled reply. ‘Mr Barnabas here. Sorry for calling so early, but I’m going to be up near your cottage doing some deliveries in a while, and I was wondering if your grandma had any errands that she might want me to run for her? Any groceries she wanted picking up, any letters that she might need posting? Maybe I could speak to her quickly?’

  Demelza gulped, caught unawares. ‘Erm . . . no . . . my grandma’s not available at the moment, Mr Barnabas. She’s . . . erm . . . in bed with flu.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ replied Mr Barnabas. ‘That’s not good. Maybe I should come over with a few bits and pieces to make her feel better—’

  ‘NO!’ interrupted Demelza, with a force that she instantly regretted. ‘I mean, no, thank you. It’s highly contagious and I’d hate for you to get ill too. In fact, I think I can hear Grandma coughing now. I’d better go. Thanks for phoning, Mr Barnabas!’

  Demelza quickly put down the phone and ran her hands through her hair. She knew that Mr Barnabus meant well, but she couldn’t risk him coming over and snooping around. If he found out what had happened to Grandma Maeve then the news would be around the village in no time. She’d already revealed the Spectre Detector secret once, she couldn’t do so again! Besides, who knew how Ms Cardinal would react?

  No, Demelza had to deal with this by herself. She had to come up with a plan of action!

  ‘Where are you going?’ called Lord Balthazar as she dashed upstairs. ‘You can’t leave an injured soldier behind!’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Demelza replied without stopping, ‘I’ll be back.’

  She bolted up to the attic and put Archimedes in his cage before delving into her satchel for a notebook and pen. She always found it helpful to write things down when coming up with a strategy. She was just rummaging around in the inside pocket when her hand brushed across what felt like a bundle of envelopes. Oh no! The letters that Grandma Maeve had asked her to post at the start of the week. She’d completely forgotten to put them in the postbox!

  Demelza wiped her sweaty palms down her dressing gown and unpicked the twine that bound the bundle together. Most of the letters she discarded immediately – bills, orders, a birthday card to her Swedish penpal – but one envelope caught Demelza’s eye. It was plum coloured and the address was written in golden calligraphy which looped and swirled like the path of a kite:

  Department of Inhuman Resources,

  I L - East England Brach,

  Pitchfort Passage,

  Bury Rattlesborough,

  England

  With her brow furrowing, Demelza reread the address, and then for a third time. What on earth was the Department of Inhuman Resources? And what did TQ stand for?

  It was only when Demelza turned the envelope over and found it sealed with a blob of purple wax embossed with a skull that it clicked.

  Of course!

  TQ was The Quietus, the Spectre Detector governing body that Grandma Maeve had been a member of for over sixty years. She should go there! Didn’t Grandma say they were there to help out with any Spectre Detector trouble? Surely one of the Sages would be able to help – they’d definitely want to know what Ms Cardinal had done.

  With revived determination pushing her forward like a juggernaut, Demelza grabbed the walkie-talkie from her desk and pressed its button. ‘Clever Cog to the Comic Book Kid. Do you copy? Over.’

  There was a pause before Percy’s sleepy voice came through the airwaves. ‘Demelza? Is that you?’

  ‘Yes, it’s me,’ Demelza replied curtly, wanting to avoid any menial chit-chat. She sat on her bed and brought her voice down to a whisper. ‘Now listen carefully. You need to sneak out of your house and meet me outside the village hall as soon as possible. Tell no one where you’re going. I repeat, tell no one. Over.’

  CHAPTER 21

  Pitchfork Alley

  By the time Percy had run down to the village hall an hour later, the morning sun was staining the sky i
n pinks and reds and oranges. He was wearing at least ten items of woollen knitwear, including a scarf, cardigan, mittens and oversized fluffy earmuffs. He came to a standstill, his eyes poking out from under the brim of a bobble hat.

  ‘Nice outfit!’ said Demelza, looking him up and down. ‘I forgot that we lived in the Arctic. I hope you didn’t have to wrestle any polar bears on your way here?’

  Percy grimaced and poked out his tongue. ‘You know I’m unwell, you know I have to keep wrapped up.’

  ‘But you managed to sneak out OK? Your dad didn’t see you?’

  Percy pulled off his mittens with his teeth, revealing (much to Demelza’s amusement) another pair of gloves beneath. ‘No, he’s away on business so Fräulein von Winkle’s looking after me. She helped herself to a bottle of red wine from the cellar last night so I think she’ll be asleep for a while! But what are we doing here anyway? Why are you up so early?’

  Demelza felt a sickening lurch in her tummy. ‘Percy, something awful has happened,’ she said, looking round to check that they weren’t being watched. ‘Something really, really awful. And I don’t think I can fix it on my own.’

  Percy’s face dropped. ‘Is it to do with Ms Cardinal?’

  Demelza nodded.

  ‘Oh no! Oh, Demelza, what’s happened?’

  Demelza gestured to her bike. Lord Balthazar was sitting in a bed of bubble wrap in the front basket, a plaster covering the crack along his cheek. ‘Hop on. I’ll tell you everything en route. We need to get to Bury Rattlesborough as soon as possible, and we haven’t got much time.’

  Percy nodded and swung his legs over the back seat. Putting her foot on the pedal, Demelza pushed off and the pair sped down the cobbled high street.