Charlie Bone and the Shadow of Badlock (Children of the Red King, Book 7) (6 page)

"Billy Raven!" she screamed. "Spy!"

"Snoop!" cried Joshua.

"Eavesdropping snitch!" said Dorcas.

"Sneak!" shouted the twins.

"How did you find us, Billy?" asked Dagbert, who had shaken himself free of the dark green gaze.

Billy Raven got to his feet, a little awkwardly, and adjusted his glasses. "I was looking for the dog," he said.

"That scabby old Blessed," snorted Joshua.

Mrs. Tilpin laid her mirror very gently on the table and walked over to Billy. "Why are you not staying with Charlie Bone?" she asked in a cold voice.

"He forgot to ask me," sniffed Billy, picking a splinter out of his palm.

"FORGOT," said Mrs. Tilpin. "That's not very nice. I thought he was your friend."

"He is," Billy mumbled, "but sometimes he's busy."

"Aww!" said Dorcas. "Poor Billy."

Billy chewed his lip and darted a furtive look at the table. A vaporous green cloud was rising from the mirror and curling up toward the damp ceiling. Everyone turned to watch it, mouths open and eyes wide.

"What's that?" Billy whispered.

Mrs. Tilpin clasped her hands with a look of ecstasy. "That, Billy Raven, is a message from my ancestor. It seems that you have disappointed him."

"Me?" The chill that ran down Billy's spine had nothing to do with the temperature in Mrs. Tilpin's room. The sight of the green vapor terrified him so much, he even failed to hear the snap of wood as someone stepped over the broken door.

Suddenly, Billy's shoulders were grabbed from behind and the small boy gasped with shock.

"What are you doing here?" Manfred Bloor swung Billy around to face him. "Why aren't you staying with Charlie Bone?"

Billy looked into the cruel black eyes gazing down at him. He had always been mortally afraid of Manfred Bloor; with his bony face and narrow shoulders, he looked more like an old man than a boy of nineteen. His long hair, tied in a ponytail, was already streaked with gray, and his tight black sweater only emphasized his scrawny frame.

"Well?" snarled Manfred.

"He ... he didn't ask," faltered Billy.

"Didn't ask. That's no excuse." Manfred glanced disdainfully at the children seated around the table. Then he noticed Dagbert and he gave a brief half-smile.

All that remained of the green vapor was a thin cloud that clung to the brick ceiling like a mildewy cobweb. Manfred didn't appear to have seen it. "Scram, kids!" he barked. "I want a private word with Mrs. Tilpin."

With a chorus of "Yes, Manfred," Dorcas, the twins, and Joshua gathered up their books and made for the door. Dagbert said nothing, but he followed the others as they stepped over the splintered planks. And then he looked back briefly and murmured. "She wants to let an enchanter loose on the world, what d'you think of that, Manfred?"

"I think it's an excellent idea," Manfred replied, with another of his sinister smiles.

"Really?" Dagbert raised his eyebrows and stepped into the dark hallway.

"You too," said Manfred, addressing the white-haired boy who seemed to be in a trance.

Billy shook himself. He looked around the room, as though he had no idea how he got there, and then walked slowly through the doorway.

"Tell Mr. Weedon to come and fix the door you broke," Mrs. Tilpin called after him.

"Yes," said Billy weakly.

Manfred lifted two of the wooden boards and laid them across the drafty gap. Rubbing his hands free of dust, he came and sat at the table. "Very satisfactory," he said, his wide grin revealing a row of long yellow teeth.

"You're very pleased with yourself," Mrs. Tilpin remarked.

"Oh, I am. Didn't you notice?"

"Notice?" Mrs. Tilpin appeared to be more interested in her mirror than anything Manfred had to say.

"It's coming back!" Manfred gripped the edge of the table and leaned forward. "My endowment, Titania. Remember, you said it would return if I was patient. "Relax," you said. "Try it out occasionally, but don't force it." Well, I've just hypnotized Billy Raven. Didn't you notice?"

"I suppose so." Mrs. Tilpin frowned into her mirror. "He's not happy," she mumbled.

"When those leopards attacked me, I thought I was done for, but it's quite the reverse. I'm stronger than ever." Manfred spread out his long, thin arms.

"I expect it was anger," said Mrs. Tilpin, without taking her eyes from the mirror. "Anger and fear, both powerful agents. They can channel the forces that lie dormant within us."

"Is that so?" Manfred frowned at the mirror. "What's going on, Titania?"

Her gaze still held by the mirror, Mrs. Tilpin said, "He was expecting Billy Raven. And I haven't given you permission to use my first name."

Manfred shrugged. "Apologies, Fairy Tilpin, but it suits you so well."

Mrs. Tilpin grimaced. She had never known how to accept a compliment. "I feel it when he's angry, right here." She jabbed her stomach. "He expected Billy today. When Eustacia Yewbeam took the painting, she assured me that the boy would be with Charlie."

"What's the hurry? We'll make sure the kid sees the painting next Saturday. He'll start talking to the dog and Harken will have him."

"The dog might not last a week," Mrs. Tilpin said sullenly. "Trolls eat dogs, you know."

"Poor doggie."

Mrs. Tilpin stamped her foot. "Don't be smart. Have you forgotten the enchanter is doing this for you? He has promised to hold the boy until that wretched will is found and destroyed. What do you imagine will happen if Lyell Bone returns and remembers where the will is kept? The game will be up, Manfred Bloor. Billy Raven inherits everything, remember. This house, the ancient castle, even the treasures hidden under old Ezekiel's bed."

Manfred lost his smile and a look of icy cunning came across his face. Mrs. Tilpin found herself holding the mirror tight to her chest, as though the green figure swirling in the glass could protect her from the boy's deadly stare.

"Lyell Bone will never return," said Manfred. "We'll see to that."

CHAPTER 5

THE PETS' CAFÉ IS CLOSED

Long after his friends had left, Charlie still wandered the house. Up and down the stairs, in and out of his room, and down into the cellar, where he would stare at Runner Bean's image, at the strands of white hairs in his yellow beard, his shiny black nose, and the reproachful brown eyes that gazed into Charlie's.

"I'm trying to get you out of there, Runner," Charlie would murmur, but try as he might, he couldn't reach the dog trapped in Badlock, a place that might not even exist in the real world. Someone had created a barrier between Charlie and the poor creature he longed to rescue. Charlie had a very good idea who it was, for he met the same impenetrable wall whenever he tried to enter the Red King's portrait.

Uncle Paton had retreated to his room to consider the problem. In his opinion, Billy Raven was the one to unlock the mystery of Runner Bean's incarceration, for there was a chance that the pale, white-haired boy might somehow communicate with the dog in the painting.

But Billy was imprisoned in Bloor's Academy, and there was no likelihood of his being released at this late hour on a Sunday. They would have to wait for next weekend, when Charlie must make sure that Billy came home with him.

"A week might be too long," Charlie declared, thinking of Oddthumb and his partiality for dog meat.

Maisie, her usually cheerful face creased with worry, turned on the kitchen television. "There's nothing we can do for now, Charlie," she said, "so we might as well cheer ourselves up."

Charlie couldn't agree. He was about to go back to the cellar when Grandma Bone came downstairs, dressed up for an evening out with her sisters. Charlie stood by the cellar door, watching the tall figure stride to the front door. Though knowing it would be useless, Charlie couldn't stop himself from calling out to her.

"Grandma! Please, please, do you know why my friend's dog got locked in that painting?"

Grandma Bone hesitated.

Charlie walked toward her. "If you know why it's happened, can you tell me how I can get Runner Bean out of there?"

"I hope you've done your homework," said Grandma Bone. "School tomorrow." She turned the door handle.

"PLEASE, Grandma!" begged Charlie.

Without another word his grandmother opened the front door and swept out, leaving the wind to slam the door behind her.

"Thanks, Grandma!" Charlie muttered.

He had only taken a few steps back to the cellar when the doorbell rang. Had Grandma Bone forgotten her keys? Charlie was tempted to ignore the bell, but it continued to ring in a rather frantic way. Whoever it was, with their finger glued to the bell, they weren't going to give up until someone answered.

Charlie trudged back to the front door. He had hardly turned the handle when a small brown-haired woman in a man's tweed suit and cap burst into the hall. Charlie just about recognized Benjamin's mother, Mrs. Brown.

"Charlie, where's your uncle?" Mrs. Brown demanded.

"He's busy." Charlie knew that Uncle Paton hated to be disturbed at dusk, when all the lights came on. "If it's about Runner ..."

"Of COURSE it is!" cried Mrs. Brown. "What have you done? Benjamin's distraught, inconsolable..."

"I know ... ," Charlie began.

"You don't know, Charlie Bone, or you wouldn't have done it."

"But I..."

"Paton!" Mrs. Brown called up the stairs. "I know you're there. I saw your candle in the window. I MUST speak to you."

A door opened and Uncle Paton appeared at the top of the stairs. "What is it, Patricia?" he said brusquely.

""What is it?" You know very well," said Mrs. Brown. "You've got Benjamin's dog in here, and we want him back."

"He's not exactly in... ," Charlie tried to tell her.

Apparently, Mrs. Brown would rather Charlie didn't exist. "Be quiet," she said. "I'm talking to your uncle. Where is Runner Bean? I want to see him."

"If you insist." Uncle Paton went back to his room and reappeared with a candle. "Kindly refrain from switching on the lights," he said as he descended the staircase.

"I wouldn't dream of it," said Mrs. Brown.

Uncle Paton led her down into the cellar, while Charlie followed a few steps behind. When Mrs. Brown saw Runner Bean's painted image, howling silently out of the nightmarish landscape, she gave a shriek and clasped her face in her hands.

"What happened?" she gasped.

"Benjamin was incoherent. I couldn't make sense of what he told me."

Charlie began to explain, and this time Mrs. Brown allowed him to tell the whole story, or at least Runner Bean's part in it. Charlie omitted most of the details about Badlock and didn't disclose that the man who rescued him was a giant.

"What are you going to do?" asked Mrs. Brown at last. "How are you going to get our dog out of there?"

"I was hoping you'd help, Patricia," Uncle Paton said wryly. "You being a detective."

"Don't be flippant, Paton," she snapped. "I can't deal with... with all this magic stuff. Oh, sometimes I wish Benjamin and Charlie had never become friends. I shouldn't have let it go on, once I knew that Charlie was... different."

Paton glared at her. "You let their friendship continue because Maisie looks after your son while you're gallivanting around the country disguised as Sherlock Holmes." He walked away from the painting and began to climb the steps. "Come on, Charlie."

Charlie dumbly followed.

"I'm sorry," called Mrs. Brown, scrambling after them. "I shouldn't have said those things. I'm just so worried about Ben."

Maisie popped out of the kitchen. "Would you like some coffee, Irish?" she asked gently.

Mrs. Brown glanced at Paton's stern face. "I... well, yes. That would be nice. If we could discuss things a little more calmly ..."

Maisie had already lit several candles, and the kitchen counters twinkled with a friendly light. A plate of chocolate cookies sat invitingly on the table, and Uncle Paton was persuaded to join Mrs. Brown and Maisie. "Though I prefer cocoa to coffee," he said.

"Me too," Charlie agreed.

The tense atmosphere improved a little, but Mrs. Brown could not seem to rid herself of the worried frown that creased her forehead. "I should be used to it," she said. "I know this city is different from others. I know our houses are built on ancient battlefields, and in places where magic spills out when it's dark. I know things happen that no one can explain, mysteries the police don't even try to solve, evils they dare not acknowledge. And it's daunting sometimes for normal people like Mr. Brown and me - and Benjamin. But something keeps us in this city. I suppose it's because, in spite of everything, we feel there is a great goodness here."

"The Red King," Charlie said quickly. He felt their eyes on him, and self-consciously, he added, "He's still here."

"His spirit, you mean, Charlie," said Uncle Paton.

Charlie shook his head. "No, more than that. I've seen him. I told you, Uncle P. - a knight with red feathers on a silver helmet, who wears a red cloak and rides a white horse. He saved me. Twice."

For a while no one spoke. Even Uncle Paton couldn't find words to explain the Red Knight, but at last he said, "It might not be the king, Charlie."

"Then who?" asked Maisie. "Who would dress up like that and ride around at night on a white horse?"

Paton shrugged. "That, I do not know."

Mrs. Brown got up and put on her tweed cap. "I came here about Runner. And now I'm more confused than ever."

"Charlie thinks that Billy Raven might be able to help," said Maisie.

"Billy Raven?" Mrs. Brown said crossly. "How can he...oh, of course, he communicates..."

"With animals," finished Charlie. "I just thought he might be able to understand what Runner Bean is trying to tell us. But we'll have to wait till next weekend."

Mrs. Brown sighed. "He's our only hope, then. So be it. I'd better get back. I don't think Benjamin will go to school tomorrow." She cast a last angry look at Charlie and, before anyone could say another word, marched out.

"I forgot to ask her why she was wearing a man's suit," said Paton.

"Just as well," said Maisie.

Charlie went upstairs to pack his bag for school. Being a weekly boarder meant that he had to take pajamas, a laundry bag, and a set of clean clothes. Good luck to any pupil who forgot their toothbrush. The matron, Charlie's great-aunt Lucretia, gave detention for the slightest oversight.

On Monday morning a blue school bus picked Charlie up from the top of Filbert Street. He was wearing a blue cape, the uniform for music students, and carried a blue bag for his clothes and a brown backpack for his books. Fidelio, also in a blue cape, had saved a seat for Charlie, as usual. Behind them sat Gabriel Silk, a boy with a long face and floppy brown hair.

"Have you heard about the Pets' Cafe?" asked Gabriel, leaning over the back of Charlie's seat. "It's a disaster."

"Have they really closed it?" asked Charlie.

"Permanently," said Fidelio gloomily.

"It was Councillor Loom, Dorcas's dad," Gabriel told them. "He said there've been complaints about the noise."

The Pets' Cafe was a favorite meeting place for Charlie and his friends. He couldn't imagine what they would do without it. Or what poor Mr. and Mrs. Onimous, the owners, would do without customers.

When the blue bus drew into the square in front of Bloor's Academy, a green bus pulled up beside it, and art students in green capes began to climb out. Emma was among them. Behind her came Tancred Torsson and Lysander Sage. Both fourteen and almost inseparable.

"Hey, Charlie," called Tancred. "How was your weekend?"

"Don't ask," said Fidelio.

Tancred walked up to them. His spiky blond hair was hidden by a denim baseball cap, and his green cape billowed out in a breeze that was all his own. "Did something happen?"

As they walked up the steps to the academy, Charlie began to tell Tancred about Runner Bean. He had hardly begun when he became aware that, on his other side, Lysander Sage, who had African ancestors, was bending his head in order to hear Charlie's low voice.

They passed between two towers, crossed a cob-blestoned courtyard, and ascended another set of steps up to huge oak doors studded with bronze figures. This morning the doors stood open, but once all the children were through, they would be closed and bolted until Friday afternoon.

Charlie came to the end of his account just before they stepped into the great hall. Lysander patted Charlie's shoulder, saying, "We'll come and get him out of there, won't we, Tanc?"

"We'll try," said Tancred in an undertone.

They were now in the great flagstoned hall, where silence was the rule. Charlie, Fidelio, and Gabriel made their way to the blue coatroom, where a pair of crossed trumpets hung above the door. Tancred and Lysander walked toward the crossed paintbrushes that denoted the green coatroom.

On their way, Charlie noticed that the great hall seemed emptier than usual. And then he realized there was not one purple cape in sight. The drama students were all missing.

It was not until first break that they found out what had happened. In the wide frosty field behind the academy, purple capes could now be seen on children jogging around the perimeter, talking in groups, or playing soccer at the far end. The academy capes were made of thick wool, and the hoods were particularly comforting on cold winter mornings. Olivia, her purple hood pulled well down over her matching curls, rushed up to Charlie and Fidelio, with Emma hot on her heels.

Olivia breathlessly gave them the news. "There was an accident. It was awful. The Onimouses were on their bike, you know how they ride. Mrs. Onimous in front, pedaling, and Mr. Onimous on a little seat behind her. Well, a mysterious motorcyclist ran into them and they both fell off. The motorcycle disappeared, but then a car, trying to avoid them, backed into our bus. There was glass everywhere, and we all had to get out and walk to school."

"But the Onimouses!" Charlie exclaimed.

"Well, Mrs. Onimous stood up. I saw her," said Olivia. "She was a bit shaky, but OK, I think. Not sure about him, though. He was lying as still as a stone."

Gabriel and Billy had joined the group. Billy began twisting his hands together. "What about my rat?" he cried. "What about Rembrandt? Who's going to feed him?"

Olivia said sternly, "I'm sure your rat is perfectly capable of looking after himself. It's the poor Onimouses we should be thinking about. We don't even know if Mr. Onimous is alive."

Billy looked sheepishly at his feet. "Sorry," he muttered. "I've had a bad weekend."

Billy's remark pricked Charlie's conscience. He should have invited Billy home with him. He was about to mention the following weekend, when the sound of a horn rang out over the field. Break was over.

The small group began to drift toward the school door, and Fidelio said, "What we should be asking ourselves is, who knocked the Onimouses off their bike?"

"And why?" added Emma. "Mrs. Onimous is a fantastic cyclist."

Charlie was about to say that Norton Cross, the Pets' Cafe doorman, owned a motorcycle. But the idea that Norton could have caused the accident was preposterous.

Just as Charlie was going into his French class, he was roughly pulled aside. "I want a word with you," said Manfred Bloor.

"But I'll be late for Fr -" Charlie began.

"Not now," said Manfred. "Come to the King's room five minutes before homework."

"Yes, sir." Charlie eased himself out of Manfred's painful grip and rushed into the French room. Madame Tessier was about to begin the lesson and

Charlie was lucky to avoid her beady French eye, as he snuck to his desk at the back.

For the rest of the day Charlie's thoughts kept turning to his forthcoming meeting with Manfred. The headmaster's son was now the talents master. He'd been head boy when Charlie entered the school a year and a half ago. A head boy who used his hypnotic power to terrorize the younger students. Charlie had been one of his victims. But gradually, Manfred's power had waned until Charlie had begun to feel almost safe looking into those coal-black eyes. And yet, today, he'd noticed an odd glint in Manfred's gaze, and he began to dread the evening ahead.