Seven Sorcerers (38 page)

Skerridge shooed away one of Mr Strood’s pet tigers that had come to have a look at him. It gave a short, barking growl, so Skerridge treated it to a blast of fire-breath that singed its paws, but didn’t do any real harm. The tiger bounded away, its gold-and-black blending into the dappled darkness of the attic.

This part of the loft was scattered with earth and had many small, unglazed windows through which beams of light shafted down. To make the tigers feel at home, trees and exotic plants grew in giant pots placed close together, their fallen leaves carpeting the floor and partly burying the skeletal remains of those unfortunates who had annoyed Mr Strood. Through the centre of the vast space, water ran along a narrow trough, its gentle trickling filling the air. And everywhere, piled against the walls, in between the trees and scattered at random along the banks of the trough river, were packing cases and old trunks.

When Strood had taken over the House from Gan Mafig, all of the apothecary’s personal belongings had
been crated up and shoved here in the attic – the tigers had been added later.

Skerridge was ready to bet that Seraphine’s things were here too.

The day after the Final Gathering, when Gan Mafig finally came out of his study to discover that Seraphine had gone, he searched Sea View from top to bottom, but all he found was his daughter’s favourite pendant. He never told anyone where he found it exactly and the general view was that she had dropped it somehow in her haste to get away.

But the more Skerridge thought about it the odder it seemed. Like the way Seraphine always wore the pendant, even though it wasn’t very pretty. So his big idea was this. Maybe Seraphine hadn’t dropped it. Maybe she had left it behind, like she didn’t need it any more. Or like somebody else might. In fact, maybe Seraphine’s pendant was more than just a necklace.

So, hidden in all of this stored bric-a-brac was the thing that Nin would need to get out of the Terrible House of Strood. She didn’t know she needed it yet, but she would soon enough. And when she found out, Skerridge would be there. It might make up, in some tiny, infinitesimal way, for the harm he had done in the past.

He was just ripping open his fourth crate when the attic door slammed open. A guard appeared, carrying a thick club and blinking in the dim light. He peered at the scene before him, turned pale when he spotted the
culprit, and then tried desperately to look stern.

‘Oy,’ he yelled, only it was more of a croak, ‘Bogeyman Skerridge, whadda ya think yore …’

Toby scrabbled over the floor of the cage and bundled up against Nin. She put her arms around him and hugged, rubbing her chin against his head. His blond hair was longer and he was thinner, but he was still the same Toby. He smelt the same and felt the same and sounded the same when he said, ‘I knew it was you! I pushed Monkey out so’s you’d see him and come to find me.’

He stuck his arm out to show her a bruise in the crook of his elbow. ‘Mr Strood stuck a pin in me then he went all quiet and said, “That girl is still alive,” then he went away and I
knew
it was you.’

Nin kissed his head, hardly able to believe that when she thought her luck had run out it had really been better than ever. She had been so close to Toby all this time, but she would never have thought of the laboratory. And if she hadn’t been caught at exactly that moment, then by now Toby wouldn’t be Toby any more.

Nervously, she looked around the room. Floyd was still watching over them, but there was no sign of Mr Strood. In a second cage was the most amazing spider she had ever seen, sitting in a knock-kneed jumble of legs up against the bars, watching her nervously.

The laboratory door slammed open and Strood stalked in. He was angry, Nin could see that at once. Behind him hurried a man who looked like a walking ruler. Or at least half a ruler because he was not tall enough to be a whole one. He had a pinched face, which was mostly nose, and grey eyes. He was wearing pinstripe trousers, a frock coat with a spotless white shirt and a large bow tie.

‘Go on, Scribbins,’ snapped Mr Strood.

‘Then he … um … nailed the guard into a packing case, sir,’ gasped Scribbins. ‘Only we can’t get Guard Stanley out again because one of the tigers has fallen asleep on top of it. The other BMs won’t come out to help because it’s daylight …’

Mr Strood froze. ‘But you said it was a bogeyman that was in the tiger’s attic?’

Scribbins closed his eyes. He was twitching all over with nerves.

‘W-we th-think … it’s B-Bogeyman Skerridge, Mr Strood, sir.’

Strood hissed.

Scribbins flinched and whimpered.

‘But he’s my BEST bogeyman. My champion kidcatcher!’ Mr Strood fell silent for a moment and then snarled. His eyes settled on Nin.

‘It’s all to do with you, isn’t it? You’ve turned him rogue!’

Nin shrugged. ‘You can’t blame me,’ she said. ‘He’s his own bogeyman, you know.’

Strood ignored her. He walked over to a bottle of cloudy pink fluid sitting on the work surface. Something about it made Nin nervous.

‘Excuse me,’ she said loudly. ‘What’s that?’

Strood turned and looked at her. He smiled.

‘That,’ he said warmly, ‘is Gan Mafig’s Fusion. It’s an interesting concoction of crowsmorte, powdered goat intestines and neat vodka. Of course, Mafig had to use holipine, but crowsmorte gives a far more … interesting result. It’s slower and more agonising, and you get a purer end product too.’

‘And that is?’

‘In this case, about half a beaker of liquid essence of Ninevah Redstone. Oh, and some physical leftovers.’ He waved a hand airily.

‘You’re going to kill me?’

‘Naturally, though it will take a little while for you to die. After all, I can’t have people just escaping, you know. Undermining me. Giving people hope. There have to be consequences.’

He selected a beaker from the shelf and began looking along his collection of bottles and jars for the right ingredients, humming contentedly.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Making up another batch of Fusion. It has to be left to ferment for a while, you see. So it can be brewing while you are distilling, then as soon as you’re done I can get on with the Eyes experiment.’

‘Efficient.’

‘Naturally.’

‘Um – what exactly is the Eyes experiment?’

Strood smiled at her. It was almost friendly.

‘My Eyes are dying,’ he said, ‘and unfortunately there are no imps left so I cannot make any more. But I do have,’ he waved a hand at the shelves of bottles, ‘some essence of imp. My plan is to use the small child here,’ he waved a hand at Toby, ‘as a base. I picked him because he is a nice size and reasonably bright. I will distil the spider into him to give him speed and night-vision, then add some essence of imp to provide the element of magic. Finally I will replace his blood with crowsmorte, which, along with the essence of imp and a drop of my own blood, will allow me to see through his eyes. No guarantees of course, but I think it will work.’ Strood beamed. ‘I do like a good experiment, don’t you?’

Nin stared at him in horror and held Toby all the more tightly. While Strood got on with measuring and mixing, she looked hopefully at the door. From the howl that she had heard last night she knew that Jonas – and probably Jik too – had followed her. Which meant that any minute now, someone would be here to rescue them. She knew it. Any minute now.

‘I … um … really enjoyed your ballads.’

Strood ignored her and went on measuring out the powdered goat’s intestines and adding it to the mixture. He was humming to himself as he worked.

‘It must be rewarding, writing stories like that.’

He selected a thin crystal rod from a drawer and
began to stir the Fusion carefully. Nin frowned. She could feel eight purple eyes and two deep-blue ones watching her. She needed to buy time, just in case Jonas and Jik got delayed. Which they wouldn’t. Trouble was, Mr Strood wasn’t playing. She took a deep breath and tried something else.

‘It was awful, what they did to you.’

Strood stiffened. The rod chinked in the beaker. He set it down on the work surface and came over towards her. Crouching, he brought his face close to hers. Nin noticed that even his eyeballs had scars.

‘And it’ll be worse,’ he said softly, ‘what I do to you.’ He stood up and went back to work.

in gave up trying to get him talking. If any part of Arafin Strood had ever been a normal person, it had long since gone completely and utterly insane. She looked at the laboratory door again. Any
second
now, she thought anxiously. She didn’t have any minutes left.

‘Put the girl in the machine,’ ordered Strood, without looking up from his mixing.

Floyd sighed and moved towards the cage, feeling sad that the story of Ninevah Redstone had to end like this. Toby tightened his grip on Nin, who was still watching the door. Any second … right … now? Please?

Opening the cage, the guard reached in. By now Toby was sobbing.

‘Shut him up,’ snarled Strood.

‘Toby, be quiet now,’ Nin told him firmly. ‘Everything will be OK.’

Toby looked at her and went quiet. She hated the way he trusted her so much. She thought it would upset him more if she struggled, so she went quietly.

Once she was safely in the Distillation Machine, Floyd secured her arm in a kind of sling. She was trying to keep one eye fixed on the door. Jik and Jonas had better get a move on.

Strood took hold of the needle at the end of the tube attached to the bottle and stuck it in her arm.

‘OW!’

‘Believe me, as soon as the first drop of Fusion reaches your blood, you won’t notice the physical pain.’

For the second time that morning, Strood undid the clip that stopped the fluid from the bottle running down the tube. The first drop set out on its way.

The spider was scrabbling madly in its cage. Toby was still silent, watching. Suddenly he piped up, ‘When’s it going to be all right?’

Nin shut her eyes. ‘Any …’

Many floors below, surrounded by the ashes of yesterday’s rubbish, Jik was hammering on the furnace door. He had been hammering for hours, and had made some good dents in the hatch, but couldn’t get it open.

He paused. There was movement outside. Maybe the boilerman had come to stoke up the furnace? There was a grinding of metal bolts being drawn. The hatch swung open.

Jik had no time to say thank you, but he took care not to knock the man over as he flew out of the furnace and dived into the walls. He tore through the earth like a
shark might tear through water and the Land drew back to let him go. He swam on, speeding up past the cemetery and the floor with the empty room and its tortured captive. Past the gardens and living quarters and storerooms towards the centre of the House.