‘Charlie, come here, poppet,’ Betty said, trying to sound casual. Charlie got up from the sacking, but as she went to pass the prisoner he clamped his hand roughly on her shoulder.
‘How about the little one stays here,’ he said, in the same honeyed tone. ‘Just ‘til you’ve told me?’
‘Fine,’ said Betty, in a choked voice that made it clear it was not at all fine, but before she could say anything else, Charlie turned her head and sank her teeth into the meaty hand.
‘Now!’ Betty yelled, as the prisoner bellowed in pain. He shook Charlie off and she shot across to Betty, seizing the bag.
‘Not so fast, you little savage!’ he yelled, nursing his bitten fingers.
For a moment, Betty thought they had got away with it. But as Charlie flipped the bag inside out, shouting ‘Prisoner FIVE-ONE-THREE!’, prisoner five-three-one lunged at them, his eyes bulging with rage. Charlie began to yell.
The whooshing this time made Betty feel twice as giddy, her tummy turning somersaults as the stale prison air blasted past her nose. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the ground fall away from her, knowing she would never, ever get used to this feeling. She was aware of Charlie still shrieking, and all the while the same thought chanted in her head: I wish we’d never left the Poacher’s Pocket, I wish we had NEVER left the Poacher’s Pocket . . .
They landed in Colton’s cell in a scatter of bumps. Betty barely hit the ground before she was scrambling over to Charlie to clap her hand over her sister’s mouth. It was too late, however, for their noise had already disrupted the peace. In the corridors came sounds of beds creaking and muttering, and finally someone bellowed, ‘Who was that? Screaming like a little girl! Keep your nightmares to yerself!’
Colton shot up in bed like the sheets were on fire. He shook himself from sleep, gaping as he stared past Fliss to the corner where Betty’s own gaze was fixed. She’d known what she would see before they even arrived.
There, motionless on the floor, lay prisoner five-three-one.
Colton’s expression wavered between relief and fear.
‘Why don’t you make a bit more noise?’ he said sarcastically. ‘And I hope you’ve got a really, really good reason for bringing Jarrod along!’
‘It was an accident!’ Betty hissed as the murmuring in the corridor quietened. The other prisoners were beginning to settle. ‘We ended up in the wrong cell and he grabbed Charlie as we escaped!’ She could barely believe the disaster unfolding around them, and fear was making it hard to think clearly. They had to get Colton out before Jarrod came round, but once he did he wasn’t likely to sit quietly in Colton’s cell until morning. The alarm would be raised and all of Crowstone would be swarming with warders. Looking for Colton, looking for them, unless Betty could think of a solution.
Fliss poked the unmoving prisoner with her toe. He didn’t budge.
‘He’s knocked out,’ she said, pointing to an egg-sized bump on his shiny forehead. ‘He must have hit his head.’
‘Finally, some luck,’ Betty muttered.
‘Luck?’ Colton was incredulous. ‘Luck? One of the most feared prisoners is here, in my cell! How is that lucky?’ It was the first time Betty had seen him properly rattled and it was infectious, sending her own nerves skittering into the dark corners of the cell. Being here, surrounded by dangerous criminals was nothing like talking about it. It was terrifying, and she was beginning to wish she had listened to Fliss and thought of another plan.
‘I didn’t mean that he’s here. That’s rotten luck. I meant that he’s out cold.’
‘We’re the Widdershins,’ said Fliss. ‘We know enough about bad luck to recognise good luck. Trust me.’
Betty glanced around. Even though she and Fliss had viewed the cell secretly through the mirror, being in it felt far worse than she had expected. It was so cold and lacking in comfort that she wondered how Colton hadn’t gone mad. Living in these conditions – especially if he was innocent – must be horrifying.
‘What are we waiting for?’ Colton snapped. ‘Let’s go!’
‘Wait,’ said Betty. ‘How often do the warders look in?’
‘Every couple of hours. Why?’
Betty stared at the growing bump on Jarrod’s head. They had got this far, now she needed to make sure Jarrod couldn’t mess things up further. Getting him back to his own cell wasn’t something she was prepared to risk, but perhaps there was something they could do. A plan was forming in her mind, inspired by what Fingerty had told her . . .
‘Betty?’ Fliss said, uneasy. ‘You’ve got that look on your face. The one that usually means you’re thinking up trouble.’
‘Distraction,’ Betty whispered.
Colton huffed out an impatient breath. ‘Eh?’
Charlie fidgeted, a hand darting under her coat like she had an itch. Something about the movement registered in Betty’s mind, but she was too busy thinking.
‘If the warders come round on a check and see your cell empty they’ll send out search parties. But if we leave Jarrod here, the warders might think it’s you. It’ll buy us more time until morning.’
‘Won’t work,’ Colton said, his voice flat. ‘He’ll start hollering the moment he comes round. The warders will hear and come immediately.’
‘Not if we tie him up,’ said Betty.
Chapter Fourteen
Escape
‘TIE HIM UP?’ COLTON GAVE a hollow chuckle.
‘You’re just like your granny, you know that?’
‘Betty’s right,’ said Fliss, finally recovering her wits. ‘Your chances are better if we can delay the warders realising you’re gone.’
‘And if they notice Jarrod’s missing, at least they’ll be searching for him and not you.’
‘Then let’s hurry. We don’t know how long we’ve got before he comes round,’ said Colton. He stepped around the unconscious Jarrod, watching him like he was a coiled snake ready to bite.
‘We should lift him on the bed, like he’s sleeping,’ said Betty. Her knees were shaking. There was nothing she wanted to do less than approach the meaty figure, let alone touch it. However, the idea of him grabbing any of them the way he’d grabbed Charlie was driving her forward, forcing her to act. They’d caught Jarrod off-guard once. She doubted they’d get the same chance twice.
‘After he’s tied up,’ Colton replied.
Someone in another cell along the corridor coughed, then a voice grumbled:
‘Who’s whispering to themselves? Pack it in!’
Someone else laughed, low and mean. ‘Maybe it’s five-one-three, crying in his sleep again.’
Crying in his sleep? Betty glanced at Colton but he avoided her eyes, a muscle in his jaw twitching. When she’d first met him, cocky and uncooperative in the visiting room, she couldn’t have imagined him crying into his pillow. Seeing him here, afraid, changed things. For the first time, she cared that Colton was getting out. She darted over to the bed, grabbing the sheets. She handed the corner of one to Colton and another to Fliss.
‘Quickly, tear this into strips.’ She took another corner and began to pull at the worn edges. With Fliss tugging one side of the sheet and Betty gripping the other, they tore a long strip as thick as Jarrod’s arm, wincing as the fabric cut into their palms.
Colton tore two more, grimacing. ‘We need to bind his hands, knees and ankles as well as gagging him,’ he said. He worked quickly, his eyes never leaving Jarrod. Next to the older, powerfully built man, he looked much younger.
Betty raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s . . . thorough.’
‘Hey, this was your bright idea,’ Colton snapped. He kneeled at Jarrod’s side, his nostrils flaring with heavy breaths. He touched Jarrod’s chest softly, then prodded harder when there was no response.
‘Is he really dangerous?’ Charlie asked, backing away a little.
Colton nodded grimly.
Betty looked up. Dare she ask exactly what Jarrod was capable of? No, she decided. There was no point in scaring them
all further, although her imagination was unhelpfully making terrible suggestions – and not just about the prisoner who was unconscious. ‘More dangerous than you?’
Colton glared at her. ‘Yes.’
Suddenly Charlie swooped on something glinting on the stone floor.
‘My tooth!’
‘You knock a tooth out when you landed?’ Colton asked, surprisingly concerned.
Charlie shook her head, pocketing it. ‘No, I just carry it with me. It must’ve fallen out of my pocket when I landed. I call it Peg.’
‘Right.’ Colton looked slightly mystified, then shook himself. ‘Let’s do his legs first.’ He took a length of the sheet and wound it round Jarrod’s ankles before tying a firm knot at the back.
‘Is that too tight?’ Fliss asked.
‘Nope. He’ll be furious about this.’ Colton gave a mirthless chuckle. ‘You don’t want to see him mad, you really don’t.’
‘Hopefully we won’t have to,’ said Betty, but the sheen of perspiration on Colton’s forehead was making her twitchy. How had he coped in here all this time? Already, she felt as though the tiny space was closing in, becoming airless. She couldn’t wait to get out. ‘Roll him on to his front. It’s best his hands are tied behind him.’
In the corridor, the muttering had become a drone of voices that Betty had been able to tune out. But now it was getting louder, more insistent. The prisoners knew there was something going on. Doors began to rattle.
‘Hurry,’ said Colton. ‘Their noise will bring the warders!’
They crouched beside the unmoving Jarrod, grabbing handfuls of clothing. They heaved, grunting with the effort.
‘It’s like trying to shift a felled tree,’ Fliss gasped, as eventually they manoeuvred him on to his side.
‘Now, set him down, gently on his front,’ Colton warned. They began to turn him, but before Betty knew it, Jarrod’s weight pulled him forward and he landed heavily, like a slab of meat.
Colton rolled his eyes. ‘If that’s your idea of gentle I’d hate to see rough.’
Fliss gagged, covering her nose as a smell of stale sweat wafted up from Jarrod.
Colton smirked. ‘That’s prison for you, princess. It ain’t pretty.’
Fliss glared at him. ‘I can see that for myself.’ To Betty’s surprise, she grabbed Jarrod’s hands and held them together as Colton twisted another piece of the sheet tightly around Jarrod’s wrists.
All three of them jumped as his thick, sausage-like fingers twitched, then curled. Colton reared back, dropping the sheet. The hand slowly moved, forming a fist, before relaxing and becoming limp again.
Colton crawled forward warily. ‘We don’t have much time. He’ll come round soon.’
‘Want me to bash him over the head?’ Charlie asked. She looked round, searching for a suitable weapon.
‘No!’ Fliss said, shocked.
Charlie shrugged, looking suspiciously like she was enjoying the drama. Betty, on the other hand, was not. She was starting to wonder whether adventures agreed with her at all. She felt neither bold nor brave.
Colton looped the sheet round Jarrod’s wrists again, knotting it tight.
Betty slid a length of sheet just above Jarrod’s knees.
He let out a low moan.
‘Forget his knees,’ Colton said shakily. ‘Let’s get him on the bed before he wakes.’
Betty held up the final rag. ‘Mustn’t forget the most important one.’ She jammed it between Jarrod’s teeth, tying it behind his head.
With that, the three of them heaved Jarrod on to his back again with difficulty, then got into position around him.
‘Lift!’ Colton said, through gritted teeth.
The murmuring of the other prisoners swelled around them, becoming a low chant. ‘Col-ton . . . Col-ton . . . Colton . . .’
‘Lift!’ Colton repeated, and somehow, with the chanting in their ears, their rising panic lent them strength, and they threw Jarrod on the narrow bed. His eyes flew open as he landed. Fliss picked up the rest of the sheet from the floor and tossed it over him. He writhed underneath it, but the bindings held firm.
The clang of a door echoed through the corridors. The warders were coming.
Colton turned to Betty, wide-eyed. ‘Now can we go?’
‘Gladly,’ Betty answered, trying to organise her thoughts over the din of prisoners’ voices. The last thing she wanted was Colton and Charlie – and the bag – getting separated from her and Fliss. ‘Colton, you hold on to Fliss. Then I’ll link arms with Fliss and Charlie can go on the end so she has an arm free to work the bag.’
‘You’re letting the kid use the bag?’ Colton asked in astonishment.
‘It has to be her.’
‘So that’s why you don’t want me holding on to Charlie,’ said Colton slowly. ‘In case I let go of Fliss.’
‘Right,’ Betty answered bluntly. ‘You haven’t earned our trust yet. Maybe that’s about to change, but for now I’ll stick with being careful.’ Privately, she wondered whether they should have insisted Colton was tied up, too, but they hadn’t the time now the warders were coming. And, though she was unsure of Colton, she didn’t feel the same threat from him as she did oozing from Jarrod. She hoped she wasn’t wrong.
The other prisoners’ voices were belting out Colton’s name now, loud as they could and so fast there was barely a breath between the words. ‘Colton! Colton! Colton!’ Then it broke, giving way to loud jeers. Sharp, authoritative voices rang out across the prisoners’ burble.
‘The warders,’ Colton whispered. ‘They’re here!’
‘Betty?’ Charlie’s voice was panicked.
‘Get in line!’ Betty instructed.
‘But, Betty, I’ve lost Hoppit!’
‘Then he’ll have to stay lost,’ said Betty in exasperation, bundling Charlie into place. Her little sister’s fidgeting made sense now. ‘I can’t believe you brought that rat with you, I told you to get rid of it!’
‘I didn’t mean to, he was in my pocket,’ Charlie protested. ‘He can’t sleep otherwise!’
They couldn’t dash their escape for a silly rat! ‘Everyone ready?’ Betty said, abruptly. ‘Charlie, take us to Lament.’
Charlie’s bottom lip wobbled. ‘Not without Hoppit. We can’t leave him in this awful place!’
‘I’m sure he’ll be right at home,’ said Colton drily.
‘Quickly, Charlie,’ Fliss urged. ‘The bag!’
Charlie’s lip stopped quivering and began to jut obstinately. ‘I said no! We have to look for him!’ She began to bend down, but Betty took her arm firmly.
‘No, Charlie. We leave, now! We can’t let the warders find us!’
‘Look!’ Fliss gasped, nodding to the bed.
There on the sheet covering Jarrod, a small dark shape was scuttling along, sniffing interestedly at the sweaty bulk underneath.
‘Hoppit!’ Charlie exclaimed. She tried to squirm away but Betty held her fast. Something was happening; Jarrod shifted under the sheet, groaning like an angry bull. Through the cell door bars came the glow of an approaching lantern.
‘We have to go!’ Betty whispered desperately.
‘No!’ Charlie thrashed, but there was no way Betty was letting her near Jarrod, who was now grunting and writhing.
‘For crow’s sake!’ Colton broke away from Fliss and lunged for the rat, just as the creature vanished into a dip in the sheet between Jarrod’s knees.
‘Got it!’ He grimaced in disgust – but with those words, Jarrod’s thighs snapped shut, trapping Colton’s hand.
Colton’s eyes widened with shock as he tried to pull himself free, but he was no match for Jarrod. He was stuck like a fox in a trap.
Footsteps scuffed the stone corridor, closer still, lamplight glowing brighter.
Colton wrenched at his hand again but Betty knew from his expression there was no way Jarrod was letting go – at least not in time.
‘Grab him!’ she yelled to Fliss. Then to Charlie, ‘GO! For cro
w’s sake, go!’
And as Fliss lunged for Colton, Charlie plunged her hand into the travelling bag.
‘Lament!’
They landed on soft, damp grass that smelled of sea salt and earth. Betty’s legs crumpled beneath her, and her arms were yanked in both directions, forcing her to release Fliss and Charlie. She sank to her knees, feeling wetness seep through to her skin. Her relief at escaping was crushed by dread. The warders would know now that Colton was gone. They should have just left immediately; a bellowing Jarrod signalling the escape from the confines of a cell was much better than a broken out Jarrod – even if he was tied up. Betty dragged herself up, her eyes everywhere, anxious for her sisters. A small copse of trees surrounded them.
Charlie had landed neatly as a cat, and was staring round, wide-eyed and her hair more like a bramble-bush than ever. Betty’s eyes rested on Jarrod, who was lying facedown, squirming. Angry grunts came from behind the gag as he struggled against his constraints. Fear prickled her skin like icy raindrops. They had tied him tightly enough . . . hadn’t they?
A short distance away, Fliss had landed on top of Colton in a tangled heap.
‘And there I was thinking you didn’t like me,’ said Colton.
‘You wish,’ Fliss growled, but the colour in her cheeks deepened. She rolled off him, flicking her hair in his face.
Colton grunted as he clambered to his feet. He cast a wary glance at Jarrod, then stared up at the star-sprinkled sky, his eyes dancing in the moonlight. Faint squeaks came from his outstretched hand, but Colton was too entranced with his new freedom to notice he was still holding Charlie’s squirming rat.
‘It’s so big,’ he murmured at last. ‘So vast . . . I’d forgotten how huge the world was outside of the prison walls.’
‘Better make sure you don’t end up back on the wrong side of them, then,’ Betty retorted. Her eyes darted across the wide, flat expanse of Lament. All she could see of mainland Crowstone were gossamer threads of light in the distance. She had only been to Lament twice before, to lay flowers and feathers on her grandfather’s and mother’s graves. It was the farthest she had ever been from home. If the escape had gone smoothly Betty would have been thrilled by this, but now the thought of home appealed more than she wanted to admit. The only excitement she felt was for what Colton was about to reveal.
A Pinch of Magic Page 12
