Beyond the Shroud (23 page)

She headed straight for the cliff face, to where the shadow of the standing stone cast a stark black rectangle on the rock's surface. Walked into it — and vanished.

I stared. And then, in a blinding second of clarity, I knew.

The portal wasn't the standing stone. It was its shadow — the shadow cast on the cliff by the rising sun, the size and shape of an arched doorway. Except it wasn't the size of a door any more — it was knee-high, and shrinking fast as the sun rose. Soon it would be gone.

‘Kenta, Gen — to the cliff! Quick —
run!'

I grabbed Hannah by the arm and dragged her to where Tiger Lily had disappeared. Threw her at the narrow opening, hearing Kenta's shocked gasp … but the portal swallowed Hannah without a trace. Gen and Kenta goggled at each other, then bent and squeezed through into the darkness.

‘Jamie!' I yelled. ‘Over here!' He crawled towards me from his hiding place on hands and knees like a pull-along toy, and scuttled straight into the opening at the speed of light.

Rich was still standing with his back to us, frozen like a boxer with fists raised, watching the Faceless advance. With every second the distance between them was closing — and so was the portal.
‘Rich!'
I shouted.
‘Come here! We've found it!'
He half turned, the grim determination on his
face giving way to confusion, baffled disbelief —and the beginning of hope. I dropped onto my stomach and wriggled through the opening, feeling the weight of the warm rock above me, then squirmed round, peering through the gap, screaming
‘Rich! Weevil! Run — before it's too late!'

At last Rich's face cleared. With the first grey shapes almost on him, he wheeled and pelted for the cliff. But the portal was almost closed — he wasn't going to make it! He was at the standing stone, then past it into shadow, arms pumping, breath rasping, the Faceless on his heels. A hand reached out for him, clawing at his cloak —

He launched himself forward into the air in a desperate, skidding dive, arms outstretched, and slid halfway into the opening. I'd ducked away into the darkness to give him room, but now I saw he was stuck fast, the weight of the cliff pressing down on him, inching lower, lower with every second …

Rich struggled and thrashed, his legs kicking frantically on the ground outside, his fingers tearing at the ground in front of him for grip … but he didn't budge. Then suddenly he lay still. He looked up at me, his face ashen: one desperate, pleading glance. ‘Adam … my ankle … they've got me …' He buried his face in the ground with a moan of despair.

Then I was on my feet — bending to grab his wrists — flinging my entire weight backwards with strength I never knew I had. For an endless moment nothing happened; then Rich shot through the gap like a cork from a bottle. I landed flat on my back with my breath knocked out and Rich sprawled on top of me like a sack of potatoes.

Struggling for breath I shoved him off and was back at the opening in a flash. I squeezed my cheek against the cold earth floor and squinted out … into a confusion of
swirling grey cloaks, as if a choking, stifling fog had descended on the world outside. A whisper of fabric flicked through the tiny gap, brushing my skin like the breath of a corpse, reeking of death and decay. Coughing and retching, I rolled away, my hands over my face.

Someone was shouting, over and over again, his voice hoarse and echoing:
‘Blue-bum! Blue-bum!'
Someone was sobbing.

The last sliver of light vanished, and we were in total darkness.

‘Where are we?' Gen's voice, small and frightened.

‘At Quested Court?' suggested Rich.

‘No.' Hannah was very definite. ‘It doesn't smell like home.'

‘Maybe we're in some sort of limbo.' Jamie was the only one who sounded remotely cheerful. ‘A kind of world-between-the-worlds?'

‘What about Weevil?' My voice sounded strangely flat.

There was silence before Jamie spoke: ‘He was way up in the trees. They'll never catch him.'

‘I expect he'll go back to Chattering Wood and join the others,' Gen said hopefully. It's probably all for the best. How would we ever have explained …'

A small hand snuggled itself into mine. ‘Don't be sad, Adam. You did your best. It wasn't your fault.'

‘Yeah — it was you who found the portal.
And
pulled me through.'

‘No! Tiger Lily found it first … but Adam found it second.'

‘Looks like you were wrong about it only opening at that sunbalance-whatsit time, Adam. Luckily for us.'

A huge weariness was settling over me like a lead blanket. It was true — we'd all done everything we could. Nothing could be done about Weevil, though the knowledge made me sick at heart.

For the time being at least, we were safe. I rummaged in my pack and found my torch; flicked the switch, and played the dim beam round the darkness. We were in some kind of a cavern. Apart from the torchlight, it was completely dark, and utterly silent.

Gen yawned. ‘I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm exhausted. I feel as if I've lived a hundred lifetimes in the last two days — and we've hardly slept. Can't we rest for a while, and worry about where we are later?'

So we snuggled down together in a nest of sleeping bags, Tiger Lily's rhythmic purring a lullaby rocking us almost instantly to sleep.

I opened my eyes to the dim glow of daylight. It must have been night when we arrived … wherever we were. I untangled myself from the others, trying not to disturb them, and sat up, staring round.

We'd fallen asleep at the back of a cave the size of a small room. Behind us — where we'd come from — was a wall of rock, smooth and featureless. There was no sign of an opening anywhere. The floor was bare earth, cool and slightly damp to the touch. There was a faintly musty smell. At the far end of the cave was what looked like a narrow passageway, a fissure in the rock …

It was the source of the light. I clambered out of my sleeping bag and crept towards it, wondering whether to wake the others. I squeezed through and found myself in
a larger chamber, with a huge boulder almost blocking the entrance. There was a gap at the top where a shaft of bright sunlight beamed through. If I jumped and grabbed the ledge with my hands, I could pull myself up onto the other side. Then I'd come back and report to the others.

I padded across the floor; readied myself; jumped, and grabbed. For a moment my hands slipped, then with a grunt and a heave I was up and through, rolling out into a tangle of thorn bushes. I struggled free, twigs catching in my ragged clothes; then staggered to my feet, squinting in the bright light.

My mouth dropped open. I knew where I was. I rubbed my eyes, certain I must be dreaming … then took a few uncertain steps forward to where the ground dropped away into the valley, knowing what I would see.

There below me was the familiar roof of Highgate, patched and peeling in the morning sun. There were the smudged windows with their ragged, threadbare curtains drawn untidily across; the shrubbery; the tall white gate; the concrete porch.

I could even smell breakfast — the stodgy smell of lumpy porridge and the tang of burnt toast. My head spun.

I heard the distant sound of a car engine, coming closer. It roared up to the white gate and stopped. A figure climbed out and opened the gate, and the car drove through. The wheels crunched on the gravel drive. If it had been Q and Shaw, or even King Karazeel in a stretch limo, I'd hardly have been surprised. I felt like nothing would surprise me ever again. But it did.

Three figures — two policemen and a policewoman — got out and climbed the steps to the front door. Stood there for a moment, shuffling papers. Police — at
Highgate?
A hand reached out for the doorbell. I could hear the sound clearly in my mind, a sound I'd known all my life
— the faint wheeze, then the off-key
boing
of the broken bell.

There was a long pause before the door opened a crack. I knew who it would be — Matron, her thin face tight with suspicion. She didn't like unexpected guests. Perched high on my rock, I felt myself grin. She'd like these ones even less. They'd be out on their ears in no time flat.

I was wrong. The door opened further, and they disappeared inside. I waited a few minutes, eaten up by curiosity. What could have happened? Who'd called the police? Could it have been Matron? And why? But time dragged by, and they didn't come out. I should go back and see if the others were awake — they'd panic if they woke and found one of us gone. I started to turn … then froze as the door opened again. Stared down with my mouth open as the police escorted Matron to the car and ushered her inside.

Then the doors slammed shut and the police car drove away down the hill, the growl of its engine dwindling into silence.

I walked slowly down the wide staircase of Quested Court. I knew the way.

My hair flopped into my eyes, soft and smelling of shampoo. My jeans felt stiff and tight after my loose leggings. My stomach was stiff and tight, too, from non-stop eating — but that felt great.

I stopped for a moment on the landing, looking down, remembering …

The reaction of the others when I told them where we were, one wild theory following another, till eventually Jamie's was pronounced the most likely: ‘
You
found the portal, Adam — so it took us to
your
home. Magic's logical, like Kai says — but who ever said it was convenient?'

Gen's wail: ‘Never mind why we're here — how do we get back to Quested Court?'

Hannah's reply, matter-of-fact to her; unbelievable to me: ‘In Q's helipocter, of course.'

Me, in a croak: ‘But … who'll drive it?'

And Hannah, with the air of one stating the obvious: ‘The helipocter pirate.'

Sneaking past the tall white gates of Highgate, ducking low so no one would see us, fighting a crazy urge to giggle …

The curious looks of passers-by as we waited at the phone booth to make the reverse-charge call to Q; how they'd nudged each other and avoided our eyes … all except one little girl about Hannah's age, who skipped up to us and chirped, ‘Can I play too?'

Hannah's withering reply: ‘This is
not
a game!'

The taxi pulling up to take us to the airport … Q jumping down from the helicopter, hugging us as if we were all his children, not just Hannah …

The expression on Q's face, even more wonderful than the helicopter ride.

Now Q had asked to speak to me, on my own.

I knocked softly on the library door. Almost at once it opened and Hannah peeped round. Her eyes were sparkling, and her face had a strange, secretive expression that fizzed with excitement. I grinned to myself: she was up to something.

She skipped in ahead of me and scrambled up into the big leather armchair. At once, the little grey kitten hopped onto her lap and began to purr.

Q smiled at me, his eyes very warm behind the smeary specs. ‘Ah — Adam. My boy.' Off came the glasses; a quick polish on the edge of his frayed jumper, and they were on his nose again, cloudier than ever. ‘This visit hasn't turned out quite how I'd planned, what with … well … one thing and another. But now it's back on track.' He smiled.
‘A special dinner for you all tonight — if you have room for more food, that is. Specially chosen by Hannah: chicken nuggets and chips, with — what was the dessert, Chatterbot?'

‘Marshmallow and jelly ice cream, chocolate sauce, and hundreds and thousands,' Hannah recited with great satisfaction.

‘Precisely,' said Q. ‘And afterwards …'

‘
Fireworks!
A special b … I mean, a special firework display to celeb … I mean, fireworks.' I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at Hannah. She gazed innocently back.

‘But first, I have something for you. There will be presents too, of course …' I blinked at Q. What was he on about? ‘But this … well, this is something rather different.'

Q held out his hand. In it was a newspaper. ‘Happy birthday, Adam.'

Hannah gave a little wiggle of excitement. Huh? Not beginning to know what to think, I took the paper from Q and stammered my thanks.
Was
it my birthday? And trust old Q — a newspaper for a birthday present!

I glanced down at it, pretending to be pleased. A mug shot of Matron stared back at me. Above it was the date: 22 September. Dazed, I read the headline:
Serious Fraud Squad Swoops.
Tried to read the small print below, but the letters mixed themselves up into a jumble that didn't even begin to make sense.

I realised Q was talking. ‘It seems Miss Filcher was aptly named, Adam.'

‘Pilcher,' corrected Hannah.

‘Filcher,'
repeated Q with a smile. ‘It appears she has been stealing funds from Highgate for years. Amounts adding up to hundreds of thousands — maybe more.'

‘Did you …' I croaked.

Q smiled. ‘No, Adam. Investigations have been underway
for some time, I believe. But my evidence will doubtless be called for in due course, to strengthen the case against her — and I will be delighted to assist. And there's an additional factor: a young lad has disappeared from Highgate, and the police will be looking to your Matron for answers.

‘But as far as you are concerned, Adam, the important thing is this: you will start the next year of your life as a brand new chapter, in the certainty that she will never return.'

I felt a smile spreading slowly over my face. But before I could say anything, there was a rustle and a thud and Tiger Lily hopped in through the open window. Hannah's face lit up. ‘I've been wondering where you were,' she said sternly. ‘Catching mouses, I bet. Look, Bluebell! Here comes your new friend!'

Tiger Lily took one look at the kitten curled up asleep on Hannah's lap, and her back arched. Her tail puffed out into a bottlebrush. Her eyes went triangular, and she advanced on the chair with slow, menacing steps.

‘I'm afraid not, Hannah,' I said with a grin. ‘Here comes trouble!'