The Book of Doom (25 page)

Zac watched his grandfather. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I think he’s... forgotten.”

“Forgotten what?” asked Angelo.

“How do you forget something like that?” continued the Valkyrie.

Zac shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he forgot on purpose. Maybe he didn’t want to remember.”

“Remember what?” Angelo quizzed. “What are you on about?”

“Can he do that? Can he make people forget?”

“I suppose he can do anything.”

“Don’t be daft,” Angelo said. “Only God can do anything.”

Zac and Herya exchanged a glance. They all sipped their tea.

“So, what now?” Herya asked.

Zac shrugged. “Dunno. Get a job, I suppose.” He jabbed a thumb in Angelo’s direction. “Doubt he’ll let me go back to stealing. Will you?”

“Nope,” said Angelo.

“That’s what I thought,” said Zac. “What about you, Herya?”

“Going to travel a bit,” the Valkyrie said. “Find some adventures. You can come if you want.”

“No, thanks.”

“Good, I didn’t want you to anyway. You’d only hold me back.” She smiled, then gulped down the last of her tea. “Well, see you around,” she said, making for the back door. “Nice to meet you, Mr Corgan.”

Phillip looked up from the table. “You too, dear. And I like your wings.” A flicker of something that might have been recognition shadowed his face as he admired the white feathers.

“Oh, but look,” he said, getting up and shuffling over to her. “You’ve got blood on one.” He licked his thumb and rubbed the wing. Both the dried blood and the wound itself were wiped away. “There,” he said admiringly. “That’s better.”

Herya flexed the newly healed wing. “Thank you,” she said. With a final glance to Zac and Angelo, she opened the back door.

“Herya,” said Zac.

The Valkyrie paused.

“Thanks. You know... for coming back. For saving us.”

She shrugged. “Don’t get used to it,” she said, then stepped through the door. There was the sound of applause as the Valkyrie leaped into the air. It faded as she soared off across the skies.

“Right, then,” said Zac, setting down his mug. “I’ll show you your bedroom.”

“What?” asked Angelo, following behind him as he made for the door leading into the hall. “I thought we’d be sharing a room.”

“Uh, no.”

“But I thought we could get bunk beds.
Bunk beds
, Zac!”

They walked out into the hall and made for the stairs. “Well, you thought wrong.”

“But
bunk beds
. Everyone loves bunk beds. Bagsy being on the top bunk!”

“You can’t bagsy the top bunk because there
is
no top bunk,” Zac said. “You can’t bagsy something that doesn’t exist.”

There was a rattle from the letterbox and a black envelope fluttered to the floor. Zac grabbed it, then opened the door and looked out. There was no one there, but had he paid more attention, he might have seen something one-eyed and semi-naked lumbering along the street in a decidedly unfeminine way.

Zac closed the door and studied the envelope. His and Angelo’s names were written on the front in silver script. He tore open the top, and two rectangles of plastic slid out into his palm.

“What is it?” asked Angelo, craning his neck to see.

Zac held up the cards. “VIP passes for Eyedol.”

“Aw,” smiled Angelo. “That was nice of him.”

“Want to go?”

“No way,” said Angelo firmly.

“Yeah, nor me,” said Zac, and he slipped the passes back in the envelope, then tossed them in the bin.

“You know the only thing that still bothers me, though?” Angelo asked.

“Steropes being a woman?”

“No!” Angelo shuddered. “Well, yes, but something else too.”

Zac stepped on to the bottom stair. “What?”

“The book. Where’s the book?”

“How should I know? Does it matter?”

“Depends. What if someone dangerous
has
got it?”

“I doubt they’d be any more dangerous than Gabriel.”

He moved to head up the stairs, but as he did, his eyes fell on the goldfish bowl. The fish inside was swimming around as fast and as frantically as ever, darting through the water in a blur of shimmering orange.

Zac stopped.

He stepped back down into the hall.

“What is it?” asked Angelo. “What’s the matter?”

Zac looked at the fish, and for the very first time, he saw. Properly saw. As it swam it left a shining trail behind it, like someone drawing in the air with a sparkler. Before Zac’s eyes the trails became shapes and the shapes became letters and the letters spelled out words.

“Z-A-C,” he said aloud.

Angelo’s lips moved silently. “Zac,” he said. “That spells Zac! Give me another one.”

Zac shushed him and kept watching. The letters sparkled in the bowl, each one visible for only a tiny fraction of a second, but leaving an indelible imprint on his mind’s eye.

Z
AC
C
ORGAN LOOKED IN DISBELIEF AT THE
B
OOK OF
E
VERYTHING.

A
ND IN THAT MOMENT HE UNDERSTOOD, AND KNEW THAT HE COULD NEVER TELL

ANOTHER LIVING SOUL WHAT HE HAD SEEN.

“What is it?” asked Angelo. “Why are you staring at the fish?”

“He took the book,” Zac said to himself. “He took the book with him and he hid it.” He glanced through into the kitchen where his grandfather sat. “Just like I’d have done.”

“What? What are you on about?” asked Angelo.

Zac shook his head. “Oh, nothing,” he said, and he turned towards the stairs once more. The thing that looked like a fish continued its endless, eternal swim.

Z
AC
C
ORGAN WALKED UP THE STAIRS, FOLLOWED BY THE HALF-BLOOD,
A
NGELO.

Z
AC
C
ORGAN SMILED, AND FOR THE FIRST TIME IN
Z
AC
C
ORGAN’S LIFE,

HE CONSIDERED THE POSSIBILITY OF BUNK BEDS.

“
BRING NEWS,
sir.”

“Good show, Gabriel. News of the book?”

“The... uh... the book, sir?”

“Yes. You know. The... the book. What’s it called?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean, sir.”

“What? Of course you do, man. The missing, uh, the missing... thing. What’s it called?”

“Missing thing, sir?”

“Yes, you know. With the... and the... and whatnot.”

“If you’ve misplaced something, sir, I can have some of the angels look into it.”

“Misplaced something? Who’s misplaced something?”

“I thought you had, sir.”

“Me? No. How could I misplace anything? I’m a disembodied voice, for Heaven’s sake.”

“Quite, sir. Forgive me for asking, sir, but why was it you wanted to see me?”

“I didn’t. I thought you wanted to see me.”

“No, sir.”

“You had news, you said. About... About something or other.”

“I don’t seem to recall having any news, sir.”

“I’m almost certain that you did.”

“Then it must’ve slipped my mind, sir.”

“What did?”

“Uh... I don’t know, sir.”

“What?”

“Sorry, sir?”

“Why are you here, Gabriel?”

“My apologies, sir, I think I may have hit my head on the way in. I am having difficulty recalling my reason for coming.”

“For coming where?”

“To see you, sir.”

“Did you? When?”

“Now, sir.”

“Ah, right. Yes.”

“Begging your pardon, sir, I have some duties to which I must attend. Michael has requested that we try to source him some ice cream.”

“Ice cream?”

“Yes, sir. He has rather inexplicably taken a shine to the flavour mint choc chip. We don’t know where he got the taste from.”

“Well, whatever keeps him happy, I suppose. You may go. Good day, Gabriel.”

“Good day, sir. And should I remember what I came in for, rest assured you shall be the very first to know.”

“To know what, Gabriel?”

“...”

“Gabriel?”

“Nothing, sir. But I think perhaps I’d better have something of a lie-down.”

Other AFTERWORLDS books by Barry Hutchison:

The 13th Horseman

The INVISIBLE FIENDS series by Barry Hutchison:

Mr Mumbles

Raggy Maggie

The Crowmaster

Doc Mortis

The Beast

The Darkest Corners

Copyright

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins
Children’s Books
2011

HarperCollins
Children’s Books
is a division of HarperCollins
Publishers
Ltd,

77-85 Fulham Palace Road, Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

The HarperCollins
Children’s Books
website address is

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Text and illustrations copyright © 2013 by Barry Hutchison

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The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work.

ISBN: 9780007440917

Ebook Edition © JANUARY 2013 ISBN: 9780007440924

Version 1