Griffin of Darkwood (10 page)

They twisted and turned, trying to break away.

“Help!” yelled Thom. “Somebody save us!”

“No one will hear you in Shadow Alley,” a voice hissed. “Unless perhaps it’s a rat!”

Chapter Sixteen

Brussels Sprouts and Liver!

“Snooping again!” growled Mr. Cherry.

“We’re looking for Peaches,” stammered Will. It was all he could think of. “He ran up here somewhere.” He tried not to look at Mr. Cherry, but he couldn’t help it. The man’s eyes were eerily hypnotic.

“Never saw him. But good riddance. A lot of things go into Shadow Alley and don’t come out.”

“I’ve lived in this village all my life and I’ve never heard that,” said Thom. He gave a desperate wrench and twisted out of Mr. Cherry’s grasp. “Run!” he yelled.

Will delivered a swift kick to Mr. Cherry’s shin. Curses exploded from the man and Will broke free. As he and Thom raced away, Mr. Cherry shouted, “Next time you DIE!”

Will and Thom were gasping when they got back to Black Penny Road.

“I thought we were goners,” moaned Thom, shaking raindrops out of his messy hair.

“He must have been going to visit Purvis Sneed,” said Will, remembering the conversation he had heard in the Cherrys sitting room. “The Cherrys are looking for something. It’s got to do with the secret passageway. I think Purvis Sneed is helping them. The girl, Hannah, knew about it too. But what could it be?”

Thom shuddered. “Let’s go. We’re having Apple Charlotte! I made it this morning.”

“Okay.” Will had no desire to run into Mr. Cherry again today.

Will made the pb and j sandwiches while Thom boiled a mixture of apricot jam, sugar and a splash of his dad’s dark rum to make sauce for the Apple Charlotte. Then he took a tray covered with tinfoil from the freezer and stuck his head into the living room. “Shepherd’s pie okay?”

“Wonderful,” said John.

Thom took off the foil and popped the tray in the oven. “Emma’s mum, Star, makes frozen meals for Dad. She brings them over every Sunday. There’s pork chops and liver and onions and beef stew left for this week.”

They ate at the kitchen table. Thom had baked the Apple Charlotte in a round tin with a hole in the middle. “It’s called a mold," he said. “I haven’t used a mold before. When I flip it over on a plate, the Apple Charlotte will fall out. At least that’s the plan.”

When it was time to flip the mold, Will held his breath. The Apple Charlotte didn't budge. Thom tapped the bottom of the pan and peered underneath to see what was happening.

“Bang it harder,” suggested John.

Thom whacked the bottom of the pan with a knife. “It’s stuck,” he said. He consulted his
Mastering the Art of French Cooking
, which was propped up against a canister of flour, open to the Apple Charlotte page. “Oh, no! I forgot the butter.”

“We’ll eat it out of the pan,” said John.

They each had three huge helpings, scraping up the stuck bits. When they were finished, they pushed the dishes to the side and played gin rummy.

When it was time for Will to go, Thom said, “I’m going to make cream puffs tonight. I’m practising for Vespera’s poetry reading. You can have some for breakfast tomorrow. You’re gonna come, aren’t you?”

Will promised. When he got outside, shiny puddles lay in all the dips in the road. In one puddle shone the reflections of glittering stars. He tilted his head back and gazed up at the sky. It was like a black blanket with not even one twinkling star. He took another look at the reflection in the puddle. The stars winked at him.

There’s magic everywhere,
he thought.
You just have to keep your eyes open for it.
He looked in every puddle the rest of the way but saw nothing so splendid again.

Ke-ke-ke-ke.
The sparrowhawks circled the tower, screeching, as he entered the castle through the stone archway. In the entrance hall, the door to a closet where the phone was kept was partly closed. From inside the closet, Aunt Mauve shrieked, “Pepperoni, pineapple, double cheese…What do you mean, you don’t deliver? How can you be a pizza parlour and not deliver?”

She slammed the phone down and emerged from the closet. She was wearing her coat, the wool scarf and three pairs of wool socks. Mrs. Cherry appeared from nowhere, her shoes making no sound on the stone floor. “Was there something wrong with the liver and Brussels sprouts I served for dinner, Madame?”

Aunt Mauve quivered under Mrs. Cherry’s icy eyes. “Wha…no…nothing…” she mumbled.

“Why on earth would you phone a pizza parlour at this time of night?” persisted Mrs. Cherry. “Is there a problem?”

“It was a wrong number, that’s all.”

Aunt Mauve sidled past Will. “What are
you staring at?” She disappeared down a dark corridor.

“She won’t get back to the Red Chamber that way,” said Mrs. Cherry. “It leads to a deserted part of the castle.”

For the first time ever, Will saw Mrs. Cherry smile. With a stomach satisfyingly full of scrumptious Apple Charlotte, he shot up to his tower.

Chapter Seventeen

The Crystal Ball

The next morning,
as Will was leaving the castle, a bell rang from the dining room. With a heavy sigh, he turned around and went to see what Aunt Mauve wanted.

She was hunched over one end of the long table, attempting to eat with mittens. A watery poached egg quivered in a bowl, and the chewed remnants of burnt toast were scattered about.

“Good morning,” she said. In spite of the dreadful meal, she sounded cheerful, and Will was instantly suspicious. He stared at a pile of letters on the table beside the poached egg. His aunt swept them into her lap.

“Is that the post?” Will asked. “Where did it come from?”

“Mr. Cherry brought it up from the village. It’s the only useful thing he’s done since we got here.”

“Is there anything for me?” Will hadn’t totally given up on Mr. Barnaby yet.

“Who would write to you?”

Will didn’t believe her. He glimpsed the end of a long white envelope peeking out of the pile. It looked just like the white envelope that had come to Aunt Mauve’s house in the city.

Aunt Mauve pushed her chair closer to the table. A colourful brochure dropped to the floor and Will grabbed it.
“Fun in the Sun Cruises,”
he read. “Who’s that for?”

“None of your beeswax!” crowed Aunt Mauve.

She picked up a big brass bell and rang it vigorously. “What’s the point of having servants if they don’t serve?”

“I’ll go. What is it you want?” Will wanted to ask Mr. Cherry if any of the letters were for him.

“Tell Mrs. Cherry I insist on a new breakfast at once,” said Aunt Mauve boldly. “Something I can eat this time. And I want the fire lit in the Red Chamber. It’s always freezing in there!”

Will passed Cookie in the narrow passageway. He was muttering, “Spoiled! I put in too much salt!”

“Never mind,” said Will. “It’s not the end of the world.”

Will almost lost his nerve at the kitchen door. He could hear voices. Good. Mr. Cherry wouldn’t hurt him if there were other people around. And he had to find out about the post. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

He found Mr. Cherry and Mrs. Cherry sitting at the kitchen table. A fire crackled and snapped in the big stone fireplace. They had a guest – Purvis Sneed. He eyed Will gloomily. Plates with the remains of bacon, eggs, sausages and fried potatoes were pushed to one side. They were playing poker.

“What do you want?” asked Mrs. Cherry.

“Were any of the letters addressed to me?” asked Will.

Mrs. Cherry slapped her cards on the table and fixed her mean eyes on him. “Are you accusing Mr. Cherry of reading someone else’s letters?”

“No! I just thought he might have noticed the envelope.”

“I’m not a snoop,” Mr. Cherry barked. “Unlike some people I know.”

Purvis Sneed leered at Will. Bits of bacon protruded from between his teeth.

Will tried one more time. “It would have said Barnaby Book Publishers on the envelope. If it did, you should have given it to me.”

Dead silence met his words.

“Oh, forget it,” he sighed.

On his way out of the castle, Will took the shadowy corridor past the dungeon door. He tried the heavy door, but it was locked. Would he ever have a chance to go down there again?

< • >

Will had walked
all the way to Thom’s building when he remembered that Aunt Mauve had asked him to order a new breakfast. “Serves her right!” he said with a grin.

He found Thom in the kitchen, surrounded by dirty dishes.

“Disaster!” said Thom. “The cream puffs. Hard as rocks. Even Peaches wouldn’t want one. I've had to throw them all away. I don't know what I'm going to do. I'm running out of time!”

They filled up on pb and j sandwiches instead. Thom looked worried. “Are you getting sick of peanut butter?”

“Not yet,” lied Will.

Then they went to Emma’s house, a converted apple barn at the edge of the village. Emma and Peaches were on the grass in front of the house. Peaches had a piece of yellow rope tied to his collar and Emma hung onto the other end about ten steps away. “Peaches, come!” she said.

Peaches sat down.

“COME!” Emma tugged on the rope, and Peaches slithered on his bottom toward her.

“Peaches, DOWN!”

The dog flopped onto his tummy with a huge sigh.

Emma’s mouth dropped open. “Hey! Did you see that? He did it!”

Will and Thom cheered and Emma gave Peaches a crisp from the bag she’d been munching from. Peaches swallowed it in one bite, gave a huge bark and sprang to his feet.

“STAY!” cried Emma, grabbing the end of the rope, but Peaches galloped across the grass, leapt over a low stone wall and disappeared.

They sat on the grass and ate the rest of the crisps and then Emma said, “Come on inside.”

The barn still had a sweet cidery smell from the apples, which had been stored in it long ago. Huge black timbers crossed the ceiling and a balcony ran right around the large open room. Toys were scattered everywhere and drums throbbed from an upstairs room.

Emma’s mother, Star, was feeding a baby at a high chair. “Welcome to Sparrowhawk,” she said.

There were Storms everywhere. Will counted one, two, three…seven children. The drums stopped and a teen-aged boy with dreadlocks rattled down the stairs and out the door, grabbing a piece of toast on the way. It was Lukas from
The Winking Cat
. He slammed the door behind him.

From the corner of the room, a raspy voice demanded, “Bring the boy to me at once, Emma.”

Will looked around in surprise. A tiny woman sat behind a large wooden loom. Two sharp eyes peered at him. Her snowy white hair stood out like a halo around her wrinkled face.

“This is my great-grandmother,” said Emma. “Granny Storm, this is Will.”

“The boy from the castle. You remind me of someone, but I can’t think who. It’s your chin. Come up to my room so we can talk in private.”

Will stiffened. The old woman looked strange and he didn’t especially want to be alone with her.

“You’ve had some troubled times,” Granny Storm added. “I see a dark aura around you. You’re going to need a lot of courage in the days ahead.”

“You’ll give him the willies!” said Star. “You mustn’t let Granny Storm scare you, Will.”

“It’s better to be prepared,” muttered the tiny woman. “Will and I will go upstairs now. No one is to disturb us.”

“You’d better go,” said Emma. “She won’t give up.”

Granny Storm glared at her great-granddaughter and said, “Come with me.”

Will followed Granny Storm up a wide flight of stairs to the balcony and then up another narrower steep flight of stairs that ended at a little door. When he walked through the door, he gasped. Light flickered from a dozen tall blue candles. The room was a hexagon. Magnificent tapestries hung on the walls, teeming with gleaming knights on charging horses, ladies and lords, deer, rabbits, pheasants, a leaping leopard and a prancing unicorn.

Just then there was a loud rustle of feathers. A sparrowhawk, sitting on a wooden perch, blinked its golden eyes.

“That’s Prospero,” said Granny Storm. “He has a nasty temperament, but I’m fond of him.”

She opened a latch on a small round window and swung it open. Prospero soared across the room and flew out. “He’s after some supper,” said the old woman, shutting the window. “He’ll tap when he wants in again.”

But Will barely heard her. He had forgotten his nerv
ousness. He knelt in front of a low table that was covered with a purple velvet cloth. A candle flame flickered and danced on a silvery-grey glass ball on an ebony stand.

“Is this a real crystal ball?”

“Yes.”

“Can I touch it?”

“Don’t be rough.”

He placed his fingers gently on the ball. It was ice-cold. Will held his breath and stared into its depths.