Charlie Bone and the Castle of Mirrors (5 page)

"Guess what," Charlie said, leaping into the coat-room. "Olivia Vertigo's going to be a movie star."

Fidelio was sitting on a bench, changing his shoes. "How come?" he asked, dropping one of his sneakers.

Several other children stared at Charlie, and Gwyneth Howells, the harpist, said, "Olivia Vertigo thinks she's so brilliant."

"But she is," Rosie Stubbs said generously "I mean, I bet she will be famous."

Gwyneth gave her best friend a withering look, and Rosie said, "Oh, come on, Gwyn, you must admit she's a fantastic actress."

"She's going to an audition on Saturday" Charlie told them. "It's for a part in a gigantic movie. She'll be Tom Winston's daughter."

"If she gets the part," said Gwyneth with a sniff

"She will," said Fidelio. "No question."

Soon the whole school was buzzing with talk of Olivia Vertigo's imminent fame. And Olivia began to wish that she'd kept her audition a secret.

Somehow, Charlie managed to keep out of trouble for t he rest of the week, and when Friday arrived, he found that he wasn't dreading his extra night in school as much as he expected. He went down to the main hall to wish Olivia good luck before she left, but she didn't thank him.

"I wish you hadn't told so many people," she grumbled. "It's bad luck." And she strode away without a backward glance.

"She's nervous," Emma explained. "Sorry about your detention, Charlie. We'll meet on Sunday shall we?"

"Pets' Café at two o'clock," said Charlie.

"You're on." Emma dashed after Olivia, her long blond pigtails bouncing against her cape.

A familiar smell assailed Charlie when he walked into the dormitory and he wasn't surprised to see Cook's dog, Blessed, sitting at the foot of Billy's bed. Today the old dog looked even more depressed than usual. Charlie assumed this was due to his old age and bad health (Blessed was extremely fat), but Billy quickly set him straight.

"He's upset," said Billy who was trying to pack a battered- looking suitcase. "Partly because I'm being adopted, but mostly because he saw a terrible thing happen."

"Oh?" Charlie sank onto the bed next to Billy's. "What did he see?"

Billy glanced at Blessed, who gave a small grunting sort of whine.

"It's difficult to explain. I keep thinking I've got it wrong and he means something different, but then he says, ‘True! True! Horse fly through wall.'"

"What?" Charlie raised his eyebrows.

Billy slopped packing and sat on his bed. "He says he was at the top of the house in a long, long room. Manfred was there, and old Mr. Ezekiel, and your three great-aunts, Charlie. He says there were things on a table: fur and metal things and — very very old bones."

Charlie's scalp tingled. "What sort of bones?"

"Horse bones."

Blessed gave a sudden, throaty growl.

“He said that the bones turned into a horse." Billy spoke very slowly, as though he were waiting for Charlie to stop him. But Charlie just listened, open-mouthed

“Two of your great-aunts did things to the stuff on the table," Billy went on, “and Mr. Ezekiel had a can that made sparks. There was a bang and a lot of smoke, and a horse jumped off the table and crashed through the wall."

"What the heck are they up to? I didn't know my aunts could do stuff like that."

"There were three of them, remember. Manfred and Mr. Ezekiel as well. Maybe that made their power stronger." Billy frowned and shook his head. "It must have been the horse that I saw in the sky"

Charlie realized that this strange spell explained a great deal: the pictures on Manfred's desk, for instance; the ghostly presence in the garden; and the hoofbeats Charlie had heard in the courtyard. "But what's the purpose of it all?" he muttered.

Billy shrugged. "Maybe we'll never know."

"Oh, I think we will. In fact, you can bet your life on it."

"If I could see the horse, I could talk to it," said Billy.

"Maybe you could talk to it anyway" Charlie suggested.

Billy stared at Charlie through the thick round lenses of his glasses. "Yes," he said thoughtfully He jumped down from the bed and resumed his packing. The small pile of clothes laid out on the bed only half- filled the large suitcase.

"I haven't got any more. That's it." Billy closed the suitcase and heaved it onto the floor.

"Nothing else?" Charlie was concerned. Where were Billy's toys, books, games, sneakers, and weekend clothes? At home, the closet in Charlie's room was packed with stuff. Was this all that Billy owned in the world?

"There is something else." Billy pulled a plastic bag from his bedside dresser and emptied it on the bed. Along with the five small books that Cook had given him, there was a deck of cards, a small one-eared bear, and something wrapped in yellowing tissue paper.

"The Bloors usually give me food for presents," said Billy carefully unfolding the tissue paper, "so most of my possessions have been eaten." He gave a sheepish grin. "But 1 kept these." He peeled back the last piece of tissue, revealing four white candles. "I found them in my aunt's cupboard before I was sent to Bloor's. Her dog told me they came with a birthday cake, but she never put them on the cake, and I never knew who sent it to me."

Charlie stared at the four small candles in Billy's hand. Each one looked as though it had been made from a coiled feather. The delicate wax filaments curved around the candles in spirals that made them appear mysterious and magical.

"I never lit them," Billy said softly.

"I can see that." Charlie screwed up his eyes and bent closer to the candles. "I wonder who sent them."

"I wish I knew." Billy carefully folded the candles into the tissue paper and slipped them in his pocket.

It was just as well that he did, because the next minute, Lucretia Yewbeam marched into the dormitory and began to examine Billy's packing.

"This is a mess," she said, throwing everything out onto the floor. "Fold your clothes properly Billy Raven. Your new parents won't accept slipshod packing."

"Who are Billy's new parents?" asked Charlie.

"None of your business," snapped his great-aunt.

"But it is Billy's business," argued Charlie. "He only knows their names, not where they're from or if they've got a family or if they live . . ."

"You don't need to know these things," said the matron. "Billy will know soon enough. Now brush your hair before dinner, boy You look as though you've just crawled out of bed."

Charlie gave a grunt of disgust. Trust Lucretia Yewbeam to mention his hair. She'd probably guessed that he'd forgotten to pack his hairbrush.

When the matron had gone, Charlie helped Billy repack his suitcase. Not that it looked any neater the second time around.

"It'll have to do," said Billy cheerfully "Just think, I've got a home to go to!"

Charlie wondered if the small boy was as happy as he sounded. That night Billy thrashed around in his sheets. Understandable — starting a new life with unknown parents was not exactly an everyday occurrence.

BILLY'S OATH

The de Greys arrived just before lunch on Saturday Billy and Charlie had spent the morning doing their homework in the King's room. Luckily Manfred wasn't there to watch them, so they hadn't worked too hard. Billy didn't mention the wand again, and Charlie felt that maybe Billy's questions had been innocent.

At twelve o'clock, Manfred stuck his head in the door and barked, "Billy bring your suitcase down to the hall."

"Yes, Manfred." Billy's eyes were as big as saucers. He looked happy and scared all at the same time.

"I'll give him a hand," Charlie offered.

"No, you won't. This is Billy's business."

Charlie followed Billy upstairs when he went to letch his suitcase.

"Good-bye," Billy said. His face was pink with excitement, but it was hard to know what he was thinking. "Maybe I'll see you on Sunday"

"Good idea. Get your parents to bring you to my house, and I'll take you to the Pets' Café," said Charlie.

"Oh." Billy put down his suitcase. "What's going to happen to my rat, Rembrandt? Do you think they'll let me bring him?"

"Maybe not. But don't worry I'll get Cook to fix things for you. She'll take him to the café."

Billy smiled. "See you on Sunday then."

A few minutes after Billy had left the room, Charlie heard voices in the courtyard. He looked out and saw a man and woman talking to Dr. Bloor. There was no doubt that they were the people in Manfred's photos. The headmaster led them through the main doors, but just before they disappeared from view, the man looked up at Charlie's window Charlie stepped behind the curtain. He had learned that the endowed could very often sense each other, and from Mr. de Grey's unsmiling features, Charlie could tell that the man had a powerful endowment, a talent that meant trouble for Billy Raven. "But what is it?" Charlie asked himself.

At one o'clock, he wandered down to the cafeteria. There was no one there, not even Manfred. Charlie stood behind the empty counter. There wasn't a plate or a knife and fork to be seen.

Cook's small, round figure came bustling through the kitchen door. "Charlie, Charlie, Charlie!" she exclaimed. "I didn't know you were here. Do you want some lunch?"

"Yes, please," Charlie said fervently "I'm starving."

Cook beckoned him into the kitchen. "If it's only you, Charlie, we'll eat together — at my place."

Charlie followed Cook through the swing door at the side of the counter, and in five minutes, he was drinking a bowl of delicious parsnip soup. "I made a gallon of it for the Bloors," said Cook. "I'm afraid there's no roast beef left, but there's chocolate meringue pie."

Cook's homemade rolls were warm and crisp, and Charlie was told to use as much butter as he wanted. After two bowls of soup, four buttered rolls, and a large slice of Cook's special pie, he felt he had eaten enough to keep him going until Sunday

"This is Billy's favorite soup," Cook said wistfully "We always had our lunch together on weekends." She pulled out a large white handkerchief and vigorously blew her nose.

"Cook, aren't you a bit worried about Billy being adopted so suddenly?" asked Charlie.

"You better believe I am. I don't like the look of those de Greys." She shook her head. "They're not the parenting type, Charlie. You can tell."

"Do you think they'll let Billy keep Rembrandt?"

"I doubt it. But I'll take the little fellow to the Pets' Café. The Onimouses will keep him safe, and Billy can visit him on weekends."

Cook was one of the few adults in the school whom Charlie knew for certain had inherited some of the mysterious powers of the Red King. As yet, the Bloors had no idea who she really was, and she was determined to keep it that way She had chosen to spend her life watching out for the endowed children at Bloor's Academy but she couldn't always protect them, and this upset her considerably.

All at once, Cook leaned closer to Charlie and confided, "I got a letter from someone close to Billy"

"Who?" asked Charlie earnestly

Cook looked over her shoulder. "I can't tell you his name yet, Charlie. He's a distant relative of Billy's, and when the poor boy's parents died, this — person — tried to adopt him. But he and the Bloors, well, to put it mildly they just don't get along. It's the same with your family The Yewbeams almost succeeded in murdering the poor man, so he had to retreat, as it were."

Charlie's jaw dropped. "Murder? You're saying my family . . . ?"

"Are you so surprised, Charlie?"

"No," he confessed, thinking of his great-aunts. "I suppose I'm not. But why did the Bloors get Billy?"

"His aunt just signed him over — simple as that." Cook let out a scornful sigh. "A weak woman. They probably paid her off"

"But why did they want him so badly?"

"H is endowment, Charlie. Although it wasn't revealed until he was six, they suspected it. The Ravens are a very gifted family Billy's relative tells me that he is the rightful owner of the Castle of Mirrors."

"Castle of Mirrors?" Charlie asked eagerly "Wow Tell me more."

"Charlie, you've got that look in your eyes. Don't go poking into places that don't concern you."

"I just want to know where it is," said Charlie innocently

"To tell the truth, I don't really know,” Cook admitted. "Perhaps your uncle Paton can tell you. He's a very knowledgeable gentleman, by all accounts."

Charlie would have liked to hear more, but they were rudely interrupted by the janitor, Mr. Weedon. Sticking his shaved head in the kitchen door, he bellowed, "That's where you are, Bone. Five minutes is all you've got to get ready"

Charlie leaped up. "How come? I'm supposed to stay here till snack time."

"How come? How come?" Weedon repeated in a mocking tone. "Because it happens to be convenient for your auntie to pick you up — that's why. Perhaps you hadn't noticed that school buses don't run on weekends, and it appears that no one else in your family can drive, at least not in daylight."

"Oh." Charlie felt embarrassed on his uncle's behalf "Good-bye, then, Cook. Thanks for lunch."

"Good-bye, Charlie. Be good." Cook winked at him.

Charlie followed Weedon past the kitchen counters, empty sinks, shelves of dishes, and rows of gleaming saucepans.

"Hurry up," said Weedon. "She won't wait forever."

"But my bag," said Charlie, hurrying after Weedon's burly figure. "I've got to pack my pajamas and stuff."

"Matron's done that," said Weedon.

They had arrived in the hall, where Charlie found his great-aunt Eustacia pacing before the main doors.

"Come on! Come on!" said Eustacia. "We've been looking for you everywhere."

A nasty sick feeling churned in Charlie's stomach. Eustacia drove like a maniac. She was the only driver who could make him feel carsick. "I've got to get my stuff" said Charlie, thinking of the wand hidden under his mattress.

"It's here!" Eustacia kicked at the bag lying at her feet. "Aunt Lucretia kindly packed it for you."

"But . . . but . . . I've got work to put in it," Charlie said desperately

"Hurry up, then." His great-aunt gave a huge, disgruntled sigh.

Charlie seized his bag and rushed up to the dormitory Lifting the edge of the mattress, he felt beneath it. The wand wasn't there. With increasing desperation, he lifted both ends and both sides of the mattress. Eventually he pushed it right off the bed. The wand was gone.

Charlie hauled the mattress back into place and tidied the covers. The lurching feeling in his stomach grew worse.

"What on earth have you been doing?" Eustacia demanded when Charlie finally dragged his bag down to the hall again.

"I couldn't find it," Charlie said miserably "My work, that is."

"Tsk! I can't wait any longer." His great-aunt consulted her watch. "I told Venetia I'd be back by two. Come along and be quick about it."

Weedon, who had been lurking by the main door, said, "Are we ready then? One, two, three."

Great-aunt Eustacia tut-tutted impatiently as Weedon lifted a bunch of keys that hung by a chain from his belt. He selected a huge iron key fitted it into the lock, then drew back two long bolts. The doors swung open.

"Madame," said Weedon, bowing his head.

"Enough of that," snapped Eustacia.

As Charlie followed her out, he noticed Billy Raven's suitcase standing in a corner of the hall. So he was still in the academy Could it be that he was being whisked away before he could take a closer look at the de Greys?

Eustacia's black car was badly parked beside the swan fountain. As soon as Charlie had climbed into the backseat, she was off, cutting corners, bumping over curbs, rattling the wrong way down one-way streets, honking at people on pedestrian crossings, dangerously overtaking cyclists, exceeding the speed limit, and narrowly missing parked cars (no, make that, hitting three sideview mirrors).

To Charlie's dismay Eustacia drove to Darkly Wynd, a grim alley where his three great-aunts lived in adjoining houses, all numbered thirteen. The third house was covered in scaffolding, but behind the pattern of planks and steel, a blackened, roofless building could be glimpsed — all that remained of Great-aunt Venetia's home.

"Take a good look, Charlie," said Eustacia, screeching to a halt outside the middle house. "You're responsible for that ruin."

"Not exactly," Charlie objected.

"Not in the strictest sense," his great-aunt conceded, "but you were with my fiendish brother when he did this, egging him on, no doubt."

"What did you expect him to do?" said Charlie defiantly “Aunt Venetia tried to kill Miss Ingledew."

Eustacia opened her door and swung her legs onto the pavement. "Get out," she snarled, slamming the door.

Charlie was only too happy to oblige. He shuffled out of the car, dragging his bag behind him.

"Now get going," said Eustacia, pointing down the alley "You've got legs. You can walk home."

Charlie turned and made a run for the alley He didn't bother to thank his great-aunt for bringing him halfway home. But when he heard her front door slam shut, he stopped and looked back at the ruined house. He remembered the piano that had been revealed at the very top, when the wall of the burning building fell away and he recalled the instrument's terrible fall, the eerie tune it had played when it crashed onto the basement steps and broke into a thousand pieces.

Who had played that piano, hidden in the attic of Aunt Venetia's house? Was it Lyell Bone, his father, imprisoned, hypnotized? And if it were, where was he now?

"Come back, Dad!" Charlie's whisper echoed in the empty alley "Please try."

While Charlie made his way home, Billy Raven was eating his first meal with Usher and Florence de Grey at the academy They would rather Billy use their first names, Florence told him, as they felt it was too late for them to be called Mom and Dad. They would never get used to it. Billy had been looking forward to saying "Mom" to someone, but he decided to make the best of it.

The Bloors' dining room was two doors down from Dr. Bloor's office in the west wing. It was a narrow room with a long window overlooking the garden. The walls were covered in red-and-gold-striped paper, and the ceiling was so high that Billy could barely make out the strange shapes surrounding the light fixture. He thought they might be gargoyles.

A chandelier hung above the oval mahogany table, and although it was a warm day a fire burned behind the grate of a dark marble fireplace. Even in summer, Mr. Ezekiel wrapped himself in a woolen blanket. He was old and cold right through to his soul.

Today the old man sat at the head of the table, with his back to the window He chewed with his mouth open, and sometimes bits of food fell into his lap. At the other end of the table, Dr. Bloor kept up a loud nonstop conversation with the de Greys, in an effort to divert attention from his grandfather's unpleasant eating habits.

Billy was squeezed between the matron and Manfred, facing his parents-to-be. The steaming food on his plate had fogged up his glasses, and when he attempted to wipe them with his napkin, the matron hissed, "Handkerchief!"

Billy didn't have a handkerchief. He blinked at the oversize dishes piled with meat and vegetables. The Bloors were obviously trying to impress their visitors. Billy grew bored with the dreary conversation. He cast furtive looks across the table at his new "mother," and she returned his gaze with quick, toothy smiles that never succeeded in crinkling her eyes.

Smiling was too much of a struggle for Mr. de Grey He could manage only a lopsided smirk. Billy wondered if he were a disappointment to his new "father." Perhaps this morose-looking man had hoped for a boy with shiny brown hair and a healthy complexion, a boy with ordinary eyes who didn't need to wear glasses.

If it were true that the de Greys had always wanted to adopt a child, as they said, then why had they only just now got around to it? And why hadn't it occurred to the Bloors before that Billy would be a suitable candidate?

"Eat up, Billy," said Lucretia Yewbeam. "We want our dessert."

Billy stuffed another piece of potato into his mouth and tried to swallow it. There seemed to be a wall inside his stomach that wouldn't let the food go down. He gave up and laid his knife and fork neatly across his plate.

The matron gave a sigh and removed his plate. "He's excited," she told the de Greys. "Give him an egg tonight. He loves eggs."

Billy wondered what could have made the matron say such a thing. How did she know what he liked? They had never even sat at the same table.

Lucretia continued clearing the plates, and there was a murmur of pleasure as Mr. Weedon appeared with a large chocolate meringue pie. Billy loved chocolate, but he couldn't eat the pie. Not a bite. He gazed at the large portion the matron had plunked in front of him. He wished he could give it to Rembrandt, but he didn't dare mention the rat. He wasn't supposed to have one. The Bloors would have killed it.

The matron removed Billy's untouched pie with a look of irritation. And then the table was completely cleared. People got up and sat down while Billy stayed where he was, the wall in his stomach getting heavier by the minute.