The Dark Portal (The Gryphon Chronicles, Book 3) (17 page)

He now had wraith-like black robes that billowed in wispy tatters; he had a ghostly skull for a head and skeletal hands, though only in spirit form.

He could not pick anything up, but that would come. And besides, there were certain advantages to being a dark spirit. He could, for example, go through walls.

His gargoyles waited
expectantly, hanging on his every word, and thankfully, he could at least communicate with them. “My friends,” he began, “we have been through so much together. You have endured a terrible imprisonment with me, and for this, you will be justly rewarded in due time.

“I know how upsetting it must be for you to see your master in such a state. But don’t worry. Soon I’ll be back to my old self. Until then, the reason I called you here is that I would feel much better about all that lies before me if I had my ring of power back.

“So!” Garnock declared. “Both of you, go back down to my workshop at once and fetch it for me. I’ll wait here.”

The two gargoyles
stared at him and then looked at each other. Apparently, they did not like the prospect of going back into their underground prison any more than he did.

Garnock did not care. He ignored their reluctance.
“Mayhem, you handle any miners that might cross your path, and remember, no mercy. Mischief, you’ll have to pry the ring off my skeleton’s hand with your little fingers. Mayhem’s claws are too large for such dexterous work. Be careful handling it,” he added. “A sorcerer’s ring is no ordinary trinket. Very well, that is all. Off you go.”

Mischief cha
ttered in a questioning tone.

“No, I am not coming with yo
u! You can do this yourselves.”

The little imp whine
d.

“Nonsense, you’re not going to get trapped in there again.
Yes, I know the Lightriders sealed the door once, but that was centuries ago. They are long gone. No, no, stop that crying! I don’t care if you’re frightened!”

Mischief whimpered
, doing his best to play for pity in the hope of getting out of his assignment, until Mayhem couldn’t take it anymore. The larger gargoyle grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and gave him a hard shake, then tossed him several yards.

Mischief sailed through the air, landed with
a thud, then jumped up, furious. All tears vanished, he leaped on Mayhem’s back in a counterattack and grabbed the larger gargoyle by his horns, wrenching his head this way and that.

Mayhem yowled in protest.

“Stop fooling around, you two! I want my ring!” Garnock bellowed.

They stopped.

He glided over to them with a dire stare. “I may seem less to you than I once was, but when I give you an order, I still expect to be obeyed! Now,
go!
” he thundered.

The
imp-gargoyle slunk toward the opening, his black, bat-like wings drooping. He cast Garnock a sulky glance over his shoulder before diving into the crack between the boulders.

The fissure in the hillside went just deep enough to give access to an upper tunnel of the mine.
Mayhem had a harder time squeezing through, large as he was.

“Don’t come back without it, Mayhem,” Garnock said sternly. “At least I know I can rely on you.”

“Rrrrurrr!” Mayhem answered in an obedient growl. Then the big, fierce gargoyle rammed himself through the opening and disappeared into the hole.

Garnock glimpsed the shine of their eyes in the darkness before his familiars hurried off on their mission.

Daft little monsters! He could not believe they had actually expected him to join them down there.

Go back into that tomb? Garnock gave a ghostly shudder at the thought.
No, thank you.

He had spent five hundred years locked up
in the chamber that had once been his secret lair. He had no desire to face it ever again.

Not that he could avoid
the place forever. Certain debts would have to be paid eventually. Sooner or later, he would have to go back down there—not just into the underground chamber, but even through the mighty Portal.

Even in spirit form, the thought of that skull-shaped doorway—and what waited for him beyond it—was enough to give him the cold sweats.

No. Not yet. Must wait until I’m stronger.
He resolved to put it off for as long as possible. At least until he had his body back.

Then perhaps
it would not seem so final to step through the Portal—and face the terrifying ally he had once betrayed.

CHAPTER NINE

The Haunted School

Beyond the tall wrought-iron gates of the Harris Mine School, the windswept hilltop with a view of the cemetery across from it was every bit as bleak as Jake remembered.

Dead leaves blew across their path as the carriage rolled up the long drive. Ahead, t
he large redbrick building loomed, jail-like, its shadowed front porch deserted, its pointed turrets scraping the undersides of the gray marble clouds.

At last, they
stopped before the entrance.

Derek got out and went to let the school staff know they had arrived for their scheduled appointment
; Miss Helena had set it up this morning.

Restless over his upcoming speech,
Jake couldn’t sit still any longer and jumped out of the carriage, following Derek up to the door. He hoped some inspiration came soon, otherwise, he was going to stand there stammering like an idiot in front of the whole school.

At the same time, he
had not forgotten about the ghost he had spotted floating around here dressed in a black scholar’s cap and gown.

Wondering if he’d have another sighting
, he jogged up the few steps onto the porch, while Derek knocked on the double front doors.

The warrior looked askance at Jake
. “Cheerful place, eh?” he muttered while they waited for someone to answer.

Jake snorted. “Haunted, too. They’ve got a ghost,” he added. “Dead teacher or something, I think.”

“Nice,” Derek breathed. A pause, still waiting. “Think it’s a threat to the students?”

“
Doubt it. He probably thinks he still works here.”

At that moment, the door opened and a thin, pinched-lipped schoolmarm with he
r hair in a tight bun appeared. “May I help you?”

Derek explained who they
were, and the woman admitted them into a gloomy foyer with dark oak paneling.

“I am Miss Tutbury,” the teacher said with
a harried glance over her shoulder at the classroom she had left. “If you’ll wait here for a moment, I’ll go fetch Dr. Winston, our headmaster.”

“No, need, Tutbury! I saw their coach arriving.” A
tall, gray-haired man came marching down the staircase, his long black scholar’s robes and the tassel on his cap swinging in time with his jaunty strides. “Hullo, hullo! Welcome to our school! I am Dr. Winston. It is so good to meet you. Jolly good, please come in!”

“I-I
should get back to my classroom, sir—”

“Yes, yes, run along before a riot breaks out in there, Miss Tutbury. I can manage splendidly from here, I assure you.”

“Thank you, sir!” Miss Tutbury raced back to her waiting students, but when the door opened, Jake caught a glimpse of the class and immediately saw that these kids hadn’t the slightest interest in rioting.

Even with their teacher
absent from the room, there was not so much as a wad of paper thrown.

The children slumped in their chairs, listless and drained, dressed in drab-colored clothes as weary and gray as the a
utumn colors of the overcast afternoon.

They perked up a little
with curiosity when they saw the visitors waiting in the foyer. Still, as their faces turned to him, Jake was taken aback by how tired and pensive they all looked. Pale and thin, dark circles under their eyes.

Blimey, aren’t they feeding them?
he wondered.

Miss Tutbury closed her classroom door.

“Well then!” Dr. Winston turned to them, clapping his hands together with a jovial air. “Where do we begin?”

Derek introduced them, then Jake told Dr. Winston about the presents.

“Exceedingly thoughtful of you, m’boy!” he fairly shouted with a toothy grin.

Indeed, he was a
loud and happy-seeming man, but judging by his glazy eyes, Jake suspected the headmaster had been having a nip of the bottle up in his office.

At least he was a ha
ppy drunk. But somehow his false cheer made the school seem all the more depressing.

“Well
, er, we can start bringing in the presents,” Jake suggested. “Where would you like us to put them?”

“Hmm, yes, d
ining hall, I should think. That is where we’ll have the assembly. It is our largest room. Right through there.” Dr. Winston pointed to the central hallway that opened off the foyer and led farther back into the building. “Shall I summon a few of the older boys to help you carry your packages?”

Jake agreed that would be helpful.
While Dr. Winston popped his head into another classroom to recruit a few helpers, Jake went outside and beckoned the others in.

They
came, each bringing an armload of presents.

“
Here are your helpers,” Dr. Winston announced as four large boys rushed out of their classroom. A voice droned on about the rules of grammar. They looked relieved to have escaped it.

Miss
Helena showed them outside and pointed toward the carriage, where more bags waited. The three older schoolboys hurried out to help bring in more bags and boxes, and Jake went after them.

He soon
returned with his arms full and traipsed into the corridor Dr. Winston had pointed to. It led to the students’ dining hall at the back of the building.

As he passed
the school’s sprawling kitchen, he heard two people arguing in hushed tones. Their voices echoed off the metal work counters more than they probably realized.

What he heard made him pause.

“Are you sure you have been giving the students their full rations?”

“Of course I have!”

“Then, honestly, are you using tainted ingredients?”

“Never! Are you trying to insult me, Nurse DeWitt?”

“Of course not, Cook. I’m only trying to figure out what’s wrong with all the children.”

Jake couldn’t resist. He leaned discreetly
in the doorway and saw—judging by their uniforms—the school nurse questioning the large, sweaty cook, who was stirring a huge pot atop the enormous black stove.

The nurse rubbed her forehead, looking distressed and confused. “
Has anything new been added to the menu? Maybe they’re allergic—”

“No, and no,” the cook said i
ndignantly. “There’s been no change in their food. Three squares a day, snack at tea, same as always. It isn’t my fault they’re so tired! You ask me, they’re not getting enough sleep. The little stinkers are probably staying up past lights out, playing games and misbehaving with their friends up in the dormitory.”

The nur
se shook her head. “If that were the case, we would surely hear them. But there’s never any noise.”

“W
hy don’t you ask the teachers?” the cook grumbled, moving to the worktable to chop carrots. “Maybe it’s their fault, giving ’em too much homework. Maybe their brains are worn out.”

“I’ve already spoken to the teachers and they’v
e promised to cut down on assignments for a while.” The nurse frowned, unaware of Jake eavesdropping in the hallway…

To say nothing of
the other listener who had just arrived.

Jake stared at the transparent
, bluish figure of the old professor he had seen on the school’s porch yesterday, when they had been halted by the funeral procession.

He was floating in the middle of the kitchen, looking very annoyed at both the school employees.

“I suppose it could be all the chores Dr. Winston gives the poorer boarders and the orphans,” the nurse admitted.

The cook snorted. “May well be.
Cleaning house, washing dishes, doing laundry, pulling weeds. They’re just children, after all. He’s probably overworking them.”

“Yes, but these are coalmine children. Hardy stock. They can take a little labor. Heavens, I hope we don’t have
a gas leak!” she said all of a sudden. “That could explain why they’re all so tired.”

“But none of us are a
ffected,” the cook pointed out.

The ghost threw up his hands.
“It’s not a gas leak, you idiots! It’s not the food, nor the chores! There’s something here, I tell you, feeding on the children! Why won’t anyone listen to me?”

Jake
sucked in his breath at the ghost’s words.

Unfortunately, his gasp
attracted the attention of all three.

“Can I help you?” the nurse demand
ed, her expression darkening as she realized he had overheard them discussing private problems at the school.

“Er, no, sorry.” Jake backed away. “
I just—I’m a visitor—where’s the dining hall?”

“That way.” She pointed to the hall behind him.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, hurrying away, while the schoolboys brought in the final packages.

Drat it,
Jake thought. That meant it was almost time to give his speech.

But before they left today, he needed to talk to that ghost and find out what he knew.