by Holly Rivers
‘And that’s why we Spectre Detectors do what we do!’ said Demelza. ‘We do it to help people feel better. To let them have a proper goodbye.’
‘But it wasn’t enough!’ snapped Mr Grey. His eyebrows had gathered and anger was rising in his voice. ‘As my last hour began, I knew I wasn’t going to let Percival go again.’
‘So you convinced my mum and dad to let him stay?’ asked Demelza. ‘They went against the rules of the Quietus?’
‘Oh no,’ said Mr Grey, his mouth curling. ‘Quite the opposite. They’d already said that it wasn’t ethical for the deceased to return to this world indefinitely; they said that it was against the principles of being a Spectre Detector. After the three hours were up they were going to send Percival back to Inn Memoriam.’ Mr Grey leant forward, the moonlight picking out the glistening pearls of sweat on his brow. ‘And that’s why, Demelza, your parents had to die!’
For a moment time stood still.
Demelza’s body went numb and her vision began to swim. Mr Grey’s lips were still moving but his words were now nothing but white noise, like the sound of a radio stuck between stations. ‘But they died in an accident,’ she whispered. ‘They were in a car crash.’
‘Crash – yes. Accident? No. They tried to get away from me – but I was faster. I ran them off the road. It’s a shame things had to turn out that way,’ said Mr Grey. ‘I’d offered your parents a lot of money to do as I wished. Your family could have been rich, powerful. What kind of fools would turn that down for the sake of a few potions and a bit of hocus pocus?’
Demelza felt her teeth grinding together, her body a clenched fist. ‘My parents were not fools! And it’s not potions and hocus pocus! It’s life and death!’
Mr Grey laughed. ‘Oh, you really are just as stubborn as your parents. Just as sanctimonious, just as self-righteous.’ He launched forward until he was just centimetres away from Demelza’s face, and then stroked her cheek with a clammy hand. ‘And if you don’t do as I ask, Demelza, your grandma will die, just like your parents.’
‘FATHER, NO!’ shouted Percy. ‘Stop it! You can’t ask Demelza to do this! It’s not right.’
Mr Grey’s eyes were wild. ‘But, my darling boy, don’t you want to be brought back to life? We can go away, start afresh. It will be just like old times – no more being kept in the house, no more strict rules, no more secrets . . .’ He turned to Demelza. ‘Just think about it, Demelza, if you do as I ask, you won’t just be saving your grandma, you’ll be giving your best friend another chance to live – to really live. Surely you don’t want to deny Percival this opportunity? Think of how happy you’d make him. Son, wouldn’t that make you happy?’
Demelza watched Percy closely. She could tell he was considering all that his father had said and she couldn’t really blame him. After all, if he stayed as a spectre he’d never be able to grow up, never be able to have a family, never be able to see the rest of the world. But at the same time, if she did the Conjuring then she wouldn’t have a future; her hopes of becoming a member of the Royal Society of Inventors would be taken away, her dreams of winning prizes for her scientific discoveries would be dashed. Her mind was a tangle of conflict.
‘We could get that puppy you always wanted, Percival,’ continued Mr Grey. His voice was urgent now, desperate. ‘I could take you on holiday! You always loved going to the beach. What do you say?’
Percy fiddled with the edge of his coat and Demelza watched with anticipation, half expecting him to agree to Mr Grey’s wishes.
‘Father, I know how sad you must feel,’ said Percy, drawing himself tall among the gravestones. ‘And I know that you’re doing all of this because you love me. But I’m dead. And I’m not going to let someone else give up their life for me. Especially my best friend.’ He looked at Demelza, appearing more calm and confident than she’d ever seen him before.
Mr Grey’s words began to flow out of his mouth uncontrollably. ‘But I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long . . . I want my little boy back . . . I won’t lose you again, Percival . . . I won’t let her destroy this for us . . .’
Percy edged towards his father. ‘I don’t want Demelza to do the Conjuring. I want to be left as I am. Now please, let Demelza and her grandma go. Please.’
Mr Grey pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. For a moment Demelza thought that he was going to do as his son asked. Had he seen sense? Had he realized the awful things he had done?
No.
As a crackle of lightning lit the sky Mr Grey let out an ear-piercing whistle. There was a rustling sound from the trees up ahead and Boris and Gregor came trundling towards him, their shadows stretching as they approached. They were still swathed in their robes, the long hoods pointing upwards like warlock hats.
‘Well, hello again, princess,’ said Gregor to Demelza, his guillotine tones slicing through the night air. ‘How nice to see you!’ He lunged forward, wrestling Demelza to the floor like she was a rag doll. He pinned her down by her shoulders. His ponytail had come loose and his long, ratty hair hung over her like a greasy curtain. ‘What shall I do with ’er, boss?’ he said, his stale breath hot on Demelza’s face. ‘Can I cut her fingers off now? Can I? Can I?’
Demelza began to struggle, kicking out with her legs and gnashing her teeth. ‘No! Get off me!’ she screamed. ‘Get off!’
‘Don’t worry, Demelza, I’m going to get help!’ she heard Percy shout. ‘Whatever you do, don’t do the Conjuring! I’ll be back soon, I promise!’
Demelza looked up and watched as Percy took a deep breath before pushing himself upwards. He went higher and higher into the night sky, before zigzagging back towards the forest.
Boris cracked his knuckles and made to follow but Mr Grey held out a hand. ‘Oh, leave him! There’s nothing he can do to stop me now. There’s no one who can help.’ He stood over Demelza and crossed his arms. ‘And besides, when Demelza here performs the Conjuring of Resurrection and he realizes how great it is to be alive again, he’ll change his mind.’
Gregor nodded and hoisted Demelza over his gargantuan shoulders. As he lumbered forward, the graveyard flashed behind her in a grey blur, and feeling the hope drain from her body, she stopped struggling. Her satchel fell from her shoulder, and all that she could do was close her eyes and wait for the worst.
CHAPTER 33
The Crypt
Gregor came to a stop. Demelza felt him push against a heavy door and, as he walked over the threshold, the peals of thunder and coming storm above the graveyard were replaced by the echo of his heavy footsteps on stone. She couldn’t make out where she was. It was pitch black and the pungent smell of damp hit the back of her throat. Some kind of cave or cellar or dungeon?
‘OK, you can drop her now,’ came Mr Grey’s voice as he and Boris entered, and the door slammed shut. Following his boss’s orders quite literally, Gregor loosened his grip, and Demelza came crashing down on to the cold, hard floor with a thump. She gasped as every bit of air was knocked from her chest like a balloon being popped.
‘So, let’s get started, shall we?’ There was a strike of a match and Mr Grey lit a torch, filling the space with a low, murky light.
Demelza sat up slowly, letting her eyes adjust. Her chest was burning and she pulled her arms across it as she gazed around. The ceiling was low and arched, and the grey stone walls were dripping with condensation. Large, engraved sarcophagi were placed side by side along the walls. She wasn’t in a cave or dungeon, Demelza realized. She was in a huge, dark crypt!
‘Where’s my grandma?’ she demanded, getting to her feet. ‘Let me speak to her!’
Gregor moved to restrain her, but Mr Grey stopped him. ‘I suppose it might be motivational for you to say hello to her,’ he mused. ‘Although your grandma won’t be able to say hello back, of course – she’s a little bit tied up at present!’ He laughed at his own joke. ‘Boris, bring in the old woman.’
Demelza fell silent, watching Boris lumber to an adjoining chamber before
returning with Grandma Maeve hoisted under one arm. Her limbs had been bound with rope and there was a gag pulled tight across her mouth. Under his other arm was Shiver, his paws tied together and his snout closed by a muzzle. Boris flung them both to the ground and they lay trembling. As Grandma Maeve’s gaze landed on Demelza, she let out a muffled gasp.
‘Grandma!’ Demelza tore towards the old woman, dropping to her knees and flinging her arms around her neck. Her body felt as frail as the skeleton of a tiny sparrow, her skin as cold as marble.
Demelza turned to Mr Grey. ‘Let her talk!’ she demanded. ‘Otherwise I definitely won’t do as you ask.’
Mr Grey sighed. ‘Oh, very well. You can have two minutes, but that’s it.’ He snapped his fingers, and Boris untied the gag and whipped it out of Grandma Maeve’s mouth. She moaned in pain.
‘Grandma!’ Demelza cried. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Oh, my darlin’ girl,’ Grandma Maeve replied. ‘You came to find me!’
‘Of course I did!’ said Demelza, kissing her grandma’s face all over. She felt her heart brightening as if it were being lit up by an incandescent filament. ‘Oh, it’s so good to see you.’
Shiver let out a whimper. He looked weak and his fur was matted with dirt. ‘It’s so good to see you too, boy!’ Demelza exclaimed. She threw her arms around the little dog and removed his muzzle. He gave her a lick on the nose, and even though his breath was stale, she beamed with joy.
Mr Grey looked at his wristwatch. ‘One minute left.’
Tears began to roll down Grandma Maeve’s pale, wrinkled cheeks and, as Demelza stared desperately into her eyes, she could feel the salty sting of tears welling in her own. ‘Grandma, I’m so sorry,’ she whispered. ‘This has all been my fault. I told Percy about the Spectre Detectors when I thought that Ms Cardinal was the Snatcher. Mr Grey overheard and that’s how he knew my powers had arrived and . . . and . . .’ Her face dropped into her hands and she began to sob uncontrollably. ‘I don’t know what to do, Grandma. This is all such a mess.’
Grandma Maeve brought her voice down to a pressing whisper. ‘You need to escape, Demelza. Save yourself.’
Demelza wiped her eyes on her sleeve. ‘But if I do the Conjuring of Resurrection then you get to go home with Shiver. And Percy can have a chance at a proper, happy life.’
The old woman sighed heavily. ‘Demelza, Percy’s your friend. Do you think he’d ever be able to live a happy life knowing that you’d died to give it to him? And your old grandma has lived a long and full enough life as it is, don’t you worry about me. Death ain’t the end, remember? Please, my darlin’, save yourself!’
‘But—’
‘Right, time’s up!’ interrupted Mr Grey. ‘Get the old woman away from the girl! NOW!’
Gregor and Boris lumbered forward and as they wrenched Grandma Maeve to her feet, along with a whining Shiver, Demelza fixed the thugs with a ferocious stare.
‘Love you more than teapots,’ Grandma Maeve mouthed.
‘Love you more than circuit boards,’ Demelza mouthed back, but the anger inside her was blistering hot. No! There was no way that she would save herself and leave Grandma to die! She just had to figure out a way to bring down Mr Grey and his henchmen. She just needed to buy herself some more time to come up with a plan.
She got up and met Mr Grey’s gaze with a disgusted sneer. ‘OK,’ she lied. ‘I’ll do as you wish.’
CHAPTER 34
Open Casket
Mr Grey grabbed Demelza by the neck and pushed her to the other end of the tomb, his fingers digging into her flesh. The stench of his cologne had begun to mingle with the heady reek of his stale sweat and it made her stomach turn.
‘Now, your grandma has already told us what equipment you need for the Conjuring,’ he said. ‘She didn’t want to at first, of course, but a little gentle persuasion seemed to get her to open up. I think you’ll find everything you need here.’
He brought her to a makeshift workbench and revealed the collection of jars and bottles which had obviously been stolen from the summoning chamber. There was also a pestle and mortar, a Mask of Facelessness and a crucible hanging from a tripod. Mr Grey struck a match and soon enough a fire was crackling underneath it.
‘Now get to it!’ he said. ‘And I’m warning you, girl, if there’s any funny business, you know what will happen.’ He turned to Gregor, who had a calloused hand over Grandma Maeve’s mouth and was holding a knife blade dangerously close to her throat.
As the crucible began to bubble, Demelza looked through the Ingredients of Awakening on offer. As much as she was tempted to choose things she knew wouldn’t work, she feared that would only result in more harm than good. Instead, she studied the various bottles and jars as slowly as possible, trying to come up with an escape plan. If she could think of a way out of all of this, then maybe Percy could come and live at Bladderwrack Cottage as a spectre? Eventually, he could get a job at the Quietus. But how was she going to get herself, Grandma Maeve and Shiver out? She didn’t even have her satchel any more.
‘Hurry up, girl!’ said Mr Grey, coming to stand over her and looking down at his watch. ‘We haven’t got all night!’
Demelza felt her body tighten and she quickly took a flagon of spiced damson wine which had been bottled in the year Percy died. Then she reached for a phial of ink to reflect his love of comic books, and she picked up what must be his old school tie. Demelza pulled it close, thinking about the life her friend had led before she’d even been born.
But just as she was about to throw the ingredients into the crucible, something dawned on her. If she was going to perform the Conjuring of Resurrection correctly then she also needed a fragment of Percy’s bone, the final ingredient required to bring a spectre back to life completely!
A glimmer of hope shot through her and she turned. ‘Erm . . . excuse me, Mr Grey,’ she said, attempting to feign naivety. ‘I think we might have a bit of a problem. You see, in order for me to do the Conjuring correctly, I need a fragment of bone from the deceased.’ She gestured to the workbench. ‘You don’t seem to have left that here for me. Maybe we’ll have to postpone the procedure?’
Demelza crossed her fingers hard, hoping that Mr Grey’s face would crumple with disappointment. But instead he let out a cold laugh. ‘Oh, nice try, Demelza! But why do you think I chose to bring you here in the first place, hmm?’
He walked to the nearest sarcophagus, which Demelza realized had been draped with a heavy, black cloth. Mr Grey removed the material. Beneath it was a large stone casket, visibly cleaner and newer than all the others. ‘Go take a look,’ said Mr Grey. ‘I think you’ll find what you need.’
Demelza edged forward and let her fingers run across the brass plaque adorning the lid. It was engraved with the words:
HERE LIES THE BODY OF
PERCIVAL STERLING GREY
BELOVED SON
DEARLY MISSED
RIP
Demelza’s stomach churned, bile rising up in her throat.
‘This is our family burial chamber, you see,’ said Mr Grey. ‘My father is buried here, as are my grandparents and my great-grandparents. It was only right for Percival to be laid to rest here too.’ Mr Grey smiled. ‘But not for much longer! Boris, will you do the honours?’
Boris grunted, and with sinister delight, lumbered over to the casket and heaved at its lid. Stone ground against stone and Demelza’s hand shot to her mouth in horror. She turned away.
Time had run out.
There was no time to figure out a way to escape.
No time to foil Mr Grey’s plan.
She had no choice but to do as he asked: she’d die to save Grandma Maeve.
‘That’s it,’ said Mr Grey as he pushed Demelza towards the casket. ‘Just one fragment of bone is all you need—’
CRASH!
The chamber door flew open and Demelza spun around. She blinked, and for a second she thought that she must be dreaming. ‘Melting meteorites!’ she gasped.
>
For there, standing in the threshold brandishing a fiery torch, was Mr Barnabas. And behind him were Percy and Miranda.
CHAPTER 35
The Army of the Dead
‘Neville, stop what you’re doing immediately!’ shouted Mr Barnabas. He strode towards Mr Grey, flanked by Percy on one side and Miranda on the other. ‘I know you’ve been through a lot, Neville, but this is not going to help anyone. Just come with us and we can talk it all through. You won’t be much good to Percival if you’re locked up in prison, eh? Now, order your men to stand down, and let the girl and her grandmother go.’
Demelza stood, stunned, her eyes flicking from the group at the door to her grandmother held captive by Gregor, then to Boris standing by the open casket. Where did Percy and Miranda find Mr Barnabas? Did he know the truth about Percy? And about the Spectre Detectors?
‘Oh, come on, Emmanuel, old chap,’ said Mr Grey, beads of sweat now dripping from his forehead. ‘I think there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding here, eh? Why don’t you just toddle back home, and I’ll come and see you at your little sweet shop tomorrow. Maybe we can talk about some kind of charitable donation to go towards that new roof you wanted?’
Mr Barnabas’s brow darkened. ‘Don’t take me for a fool, Neville. I will not be bribed. You’re not going to get away with this.’
Mr Grey’s mouth curled. ‘And how do you intend to stop me exactly?’
‘LIKE THIS!’ shouted Mr Barnabas, and with two fingers to his lips he let out a whistle as piercing as a banshee’s wail. ‘ENTER, SPECTRES!’ he bellowed, launching a fist into the air. ‘ENTER NOW!’
For a second there was complete silence.
Demelza stood glued to the spot in confusion. Did Mr Barnabas just say what she thought he’d said? Was he a Spectre Detector too?