The Crooked Sixpence (29 page)

Seb's eyes flashed. ‘And when Granma's bracelet was cut off and she appeared again, they both restarted their campaigns to retrieve it.'

‘But Granma's forgotten where it is,' Ivy said. ‘That's why Cartimore sent the selkie to read my mind and planted the wraithmoth in our room at the Cabbage Moon to spy on us. This whole time Cartimore and Selena thought we knew where it was. The grimp and the grim-wolf were both in the mansion; I think Selena suspected it was hidden there.'

‘So where is Cartimore now?' Seb asked. ‘If he's been keeping an eye on us, he must be close by in Lundinor.'

Ivy nodded grimly. She'd been thinking about that. ‘Who's the one person who knew all along the things that only Cartimore Wrench would know?' she asked, leading them round the final corner. ‘Someone who gave us that clue about going north to the Wrench Mansion; someone who's been able to read all the communications across Lundinor for years.' She turned to Valian as she came to a stop. ‘You told me yourself that he turned up forty years ago, right when the Wrench Family went into hiding.'

She pointed, and they all looked up at the spindly tower standing in the middle of the square in front of them: the featherlight mailhouse.

Albert Merribus or Cartimore Wrench or Ragwort or the man in grey –
whoever he really was
– was nowhere to be seen. The mailhouse was empty.

Ivy, Seb and Valian found themselves in a circular room. Desks and bookshelves were covered in dirty teacups, leather-bound books, jars of different-coloured feathers and old cheese rinds. On one side, a stained porcelain wash basin was fixed to the wall, and hanging between the eaves of the pointed roof was a ratty canvas hammock. Ivy sniffed, smelling old socks, dust and bird poo. She guessed that Cartimore had been living here alone all these years, his anger and obsession festering.

She heard a scratching noise and turned round to find Valian clambering out from beneath one of the desks. ‘There's an uncommon map down here with the name Sylvie Wrench on it,' he said. ‘That's what Cartimore's been using to track your gran. It shows that she's in the hospital right now.'

Ivy's eyes fixed on an upturned garden hoe propped against the wall. A wrinkled grey trench coat and wide-brimmed hat were hanging from it – the clothes of the man in grey.

‘Guys,' Seb said, his voice unsteady. ‘There's another door here.' Ivy hadn't seen it at first because it was exactly the same colour as the walls, like tea-stained paper. She recognized it as Seb rubbed the dust off. ‘It's the Ragwort door from the Hexroom.' He tried opening it, but it wouldn't budge. ‘Well, I guess this means we're definitely right: Merribus
is
Ragwort. What do we do now?'

Ivy racked her brains. All the evidence was there now. Surely Smokehart would have to believe them.

Valian got to his feet. ‘I'm going after them,' he said in a tight voice. ‘Wolfsbane
and
Ragwort. They might know where Rosie is.'

Ivy opened her mouth, but she could see there was no point in trying to stop him. His jaw was set. She nudged open the door they'd come in through. She didn't want to split up again – they'd only just got back together – but the clock was ticking. She could almost feel it, slicing away precious seconds while they were standing there deciding what to do. ‘I think the only way to do this is to split up,' she said.

Valian checked his uncommon trowel. It wasn't glowing . . . yet. ‘Agreed. I'll go to the Dead End. My guess is that Selena will be prowling around there; it's her territory, after all.'

Seb's face was serious. ‘Ivy, one of us has to go to the underguard station. Mum and Dad are still in there. Whatever's coming for them, we've got to stop it.'

Ivy retrieved the uncommon alarm clock from her pocket, flinching as her whispering started up. The hands were still black. The clock face shimmered, but she looked away before the image of her mum's face appeared.

‘We
have
to protect them,' she said firmly.

‘I'll go,' Seb offered. ‘We don't have time to argue.'

Ivy gave a shaky nod. She didn't fancy Seb's chances against one or more of the Dirge's dead cronies, but they didn't have time to come up with a better plan. ‘All right then. I'll go to the House of Bells and find Ethel and then Violet. With their help, we might be able to convince Smokehart of the truth about Granma Sylvie, and maybe he can stop the Dirge before it's too late.'

She looked back down into the deadly face of the alarm clock. The spindly black hands were approaching midnight.

Ivy gazed up at the shop. Like its neighbours, the House of Bells looked dark and empty. The blind was drawn over the main window, and through the glass door Ivy could see only the rough outline of the front room, sketched in shadows in the darkness.

A thought struck her:
What if Ethel hasn't made it back yet?

She climbed the steps to the front door and opened it quietly. Voices greeted her as she stepped over the threshold, but they weren't Ethel's.

‘Really, Cartimore,' a dry voice chided. ‘Disabling the air filters was a clumsy plan. Everyone suspects something – the underguard have been swarming all over the place. If all you needed to do was to empty this building, there are easier ways. Your methods are always so crude. Do you want people to uncover your identity?'

Ivy went very still as the door clicked shut behind her. Had she heard that name correctly . . .
Cartimore
?

She tiptoed towards a thin sliver of light coming from the door to the storeroom, staring open-mouthed at the walls. Every single bell had been covered in some sort of thick slime which, she guessed from the eye-watering smell in the air, was probably of selkie origin. Even the desk bell – as large and powerful as it was – had been silenced behind a membrane of green jelly, prevented from moving even a centimetre to release a squeak of alarm.

‘It wouldn't be such a bad thing,' a coarse voice replied. ‘I'd love to see the faces of the half-wits around here when they realize who I really am. Just for a moment I'd like to see their eyes – to see their fear again.' He sniggered. Ivy could hear the cantankerous tones of Albert Merribus mixed with something more intelligent.

There came a crunch and a hiss from the storeroom. Cartimore cursed. ‘It must be here somewhere; it must be. Those runts of Sylvie's have been in here every day since they arrived in Lundinor, and Ethel Dread was Sylvie's friend when we were younger. The children have given it to her for safekeeping, I know they have.'

There was a sigh. ‘I have no patience for your guesswork,' the other voice said, and Ivy suddenly recognized it:
Selena Grimes
. ‘Need I remind you that when you joined the Dirge you made a binding deal, Cartimore? If your sister ever came out of hiding, you would tell us how to find the object and we would do everything in our power to help you get it back from her. Now, we have fulfilled our end of the bargain. Where is the object?'

Cartimore growled. ‘Don't pretend you're doing this for the Dirge. I know you've been hunting for it behind my back, hoping to use it for yourself. Do you think I didn't notice that grimp of yours sneaking into the mansion after me?'

‘Look at my hands,' Selena snapped. ‘They bear the mark of loyalty, the same as yours. Everything I have done has been in the service of the Dirge. Our brothers and sisters of the Fallen Guild are closer than ever before to finding the other four Great Uncommon Good. Very soon the six of us will be unrivalled in our power. But first we need the object you promised us when you joined. Now, if it's not here and it's not in the mansion, then where, oh where, dear Cartimore, is it? Or do I have to consider the possibility that you were lying all along?'

Ivy had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach, listening to the Dirge's plans. Whatever they intended to use the Great Uncommon Good for, it couldn't be good.

‘What do you think, Goblin, my sweet?' Selena called gently. ‘Maybe you can help refresh Cartimore's memory . . .'

Ivy heard the padding of heavy paws. ‘As you wish, mistress,' a voice growled. The jelly surrounding the desk bell quivered.
Goblin
. The last time Ivy had seen the grim-wolf was just before the grimp threw her in the ghoul hole. Her chest tightened.

‘Now, Selena, there's . . . no need for that.' Cartimore's voice wobbled. ‘You must believe me. I saw it in my sister's hands when I was a boy – an old sack, easy to miss. My mother told her it was one of the Great Five. It must have power beyond imagining.'

Ivy tried to think.
An old sack . . . That
was what they were after? It must have been Violet's bag – the one she carried her scouted objects in.

In front of her, the desk bell started to shake, murmuring something. Ivy couldn't understand what it was saying.

Goblin howled in warning. ‘There's someone outside, mistress!'

A cold shiver ran down the nape of Ivy's neck. She had to get out of there.

Too late, she turned to make a dash for it, but the grim-wolf had already heard her. It came tearing through the storeroom door, slamming it open with a
bang!
Ivy froze. The wolf's eyes were fixed on her face. She scrambled backwards.

And then fell . . .

She landed with a thud behind the counter. Pain shot up her spine as the wolf made an about-turn, lightning quick, and sprang towards her. She was faintly aware of the desk bell trying to speak from within its gelatinous prison, but before she had time to think about it, Selena Grimes came slinking
through
the back wall and stopped right at Ivy's feet. Cartimore followed behind her, limping through the open doorway.

‘Well, well, Goblin' – Selena smiled at her grim-wolf – ‘what have you found here?' She had taken off her gloves, and Ivy saw that her hands were squirming with maggots, the skin flaking off around blackened fingernails.

Ivy's body pulsed with terror. She was trapped. There was nowhere to go. Even if she could get out, the grim-wolf would chase her. Somewhere in the back of her mind she noted the fact that Selena Grimes was dead – a ghoul, if she had to guess. Selena was tall and her feet were once again covered by an ankle-length dress.

‘Why, if it isn't the grand-niece herself, dropping by for a visit!' Selena clapped her rotting hands together. ‘How delightful, Cartimore.' She bent down towards Ivy, her smile revealing needle-sharp teeth. ‘I think she's come alone.'

Ivy stared at her great-uncle in horror. He looked nothing like his portrait. There, he was painted with a full head of golden-blond hair and appeared over-fed. Now he was gaunt and bony. His frayed clothes were stained and he moved around awkwardly like a man twice his age. ‘The runt is no grand-niece of mine,' he growled, his lips curling back into a snarl. ‘Step aside, Selena; I'll deal with her myself.' He approached Ivy, limping. She tried to retreat. ‘You should never have been born in the first place,' he spat. His eyes were the same amber colour as Granma Sylvie's, but all the warmth had been sucked out of them. ‘Sylvie dishonoured the family by marrying a commoner. You and the rest of her offspring have brought shame upon the Wrench name. And
she
was the person who forced me into hiding. Forty years I've lived in that grubby little hole. Forty years listening, waiting,
hunting
for her. She deserves to pay for this – for what she made me!'

‘Cartimore, please.' Selena Grimes's voice sliced through his rant. ‘There isn't time for this. You've already set the alarm clock. Your puppets will see to it that the parents die at midnight. You can finish your little reunion later; the girl isn't going anywhere. Right now, we need to establish whether the object is here or not.'

Cartimore quaked with fury. ‘But I must eliminate her now, Selena, don't you see? She is like the rotten part of the apple. She needs to be cut out.' He fished around in his pocket and withdrew a metal corkscrew. The device gave an angry snake-like hiss – Ivy could have sworn she saw a forked tongue protruding from the end.

Selena rolled her eyes. ‘Fine, if you must. But be quick about it and don't make a mess.'

Cartimore beamed as he extended his hand towards Ivy. The corkscrew shimmered and flashed with white light. It was coming to life, twitching and shivering. ‘Where is it, runt? Where did you put it?'

Ivy stared at the corkscrew. Fear overwhelmed her senses. She was going to die
right now
. Her mind drifted to Seb, her mum, her dad and Granma Sylvie. She pictured the faces of her friends at school and of the traders she'd met in Lundinor. She thought of Scratch.

‘
Elsells
,' murmured a soft voice. ‘
Els ells.
'

Ivy blinked.

‘
Els bells
,' the voice said again urgently. ‘Hell's bells, Ivy!
Hell's bells!
'

Ivy snapped back to reality. She'd inched away from the corkscrew and now had her back against the corner of the desk. Her hand was resting on the slime-covered base of the desk bell. And it felt oddly warm; splinters of heat were shooting up her arm.

‘
Hell's bells!
' the voice shouted again – Ivy realized it was just in her head. ‘Ivy Sparrow! Can you hear me?'

It was the desk bell. Ivy glanced at it. It was her whispering that was doing this. She could feel it.

‘Hell's bells, Ivy. Hell's bells.'

Ivy had seen that phrase before; she looked for the glass case behind Ethel's desk. It was covered in slime, but the bells within it were . . .
free.

‘Unless you tell me, runt, this is going to sting a little.' Cartimore cackled, lunging towards Ivy's throat with the corkscrew. It had now completed its transformation into a metal snake the size of a longsword. Its scales were silvery black like the night sky, its eyes two soulless slashes of pitch. As the snake opened its mouth, its fangs glittered, and at the back of its throat Ivy saw the darkness light up with flame.