‘It’s like your own fears were preventing your memories from returning,’ Seb said. ‘You had to overcome them.’
Granma Sylvie tucked a strand of hair behind Ivy’s ear and tensed when she saw that it was scorched. ‘What on earth’s happened to you? Are you all right?’
Ivy told her about the Grivens contest and Selena Grimes’s failed attempt to open the Jar of Shadows – excluding any mention of her and Seb’s involvement.
Granma Sylvie shook her head. ‘Selena Grimes and I were friends once. I knew what she did … what she became.’ A look of regret crossed her face. ‘I was never involved in her schemes, or my father’s. My mother and I fought the Dirge in secret.’
‘We all knew you weren’t one of the bad guys,’ Seb said.
Ivy smiled. At least now Granma Sylvie knew it for certain.
Valian looked out of the window. ‘The reason we’re here is because we think that Selena might come after you.’
Granma Sylvie scowled and pulled Ivy’s satchel onto her lap. ‘Earlier I remembered about the postcard – Amos sent it. The photo on the front was taken when he and I first became friends.’ As she searched for the postcard, she came across the leather-bound journal. ‘This was Amos’s most treasured possession.’ Her face glowed, as if something had been ignited deep inside.
‘What do you know about Amos?’ Ivy asked hurriedly. For the first time ever, she could ask her granma about something uncommon-related. It felt fantastic.
‘He was invited to join the Rasavatum when we were just kids,’ Granma Sylvie told her, tapping the journal as the information flooded back to her. ‘He told me, because he knew I was fighting the Dirge too. During the last three years I spent in Lundinor I helped him to develop a tracer serum, which he was planning to use to track down several of the Great Uncommon Good. That’s how he found the Jar of Shadows.’
‘He found the Jar of Shadows?’ Valian said.
Granma Sylvie stroked the black leather cover of the journal. She frowned and then opened it up, flipping through the empty pages. She seemed to be counting, and after exactly forty-two pages she stopped.
‘We need a liquid mixed with love,’ she muttered. ‘It’s the only thing that activates the ink.’
Uncommon ink … So that was what Ivy had been sensing all this time. She thought carefully. ‘Valian, do you still have the Raider’s Tonic that Miss H and Miss W gave you?’
Valian reached into his inside pocket, bringing out a small pewter flask. ‘Never leave my room without it.’
Ivy unscrewed the cap and poured a few drops onto the pages of the journal.
As the liquid sank into the paper, she shuffled closer to see what was happening. There was a rustling sound, and an odourless grey smoke rose from the spine of the notebook. Granma Sylvie closed it gently and laid it on her lap as the smoke continued to seep out.
Ivy’s mind began to whir. The smoke … The black cover …
She shuddered. ‘No way! Granma, that’s what you were seeing in your memory! It was never a black door with a smoking hourglass on it. It was this journal.’
‘That’s right.’ Granma Sylvie sounded unsurprised. ‘My memories of what Amos was working on in his journal were trying to return; I just misinterpreted them.’
When the grey smoke had stopped leaking out of the journal, Granma Sylvie opened it up again and fanned through. Neat black handwriting filled every page, along with sketches, diagrams and complex algebra – in a range of languages from hieroglyphics to Chinese.
Ivy couldn’t believe it had been hidden there all along. ‘What does it say?’
Granma Sylvie flipped to a point three quarters of the way through the book, where the writing finished and the pages were blank. ‘Amos chronicled his hunt for the Great Uncommon Good, along with everything he’d learned about the Dirge’s plans – including things about Selena. All his most important discoveries are in these pages. He protected his secrets by submerging the paper in a special uncommon solution he’d mixed. It meant that the words would only appear if a liquid mixed with love touched the paper. He believed it would prevent anyone with a cold heart from reading it.’
Ivy wondered how Jack-in-the-Green had managed it; perhaps he’d used the help of someone else. She thought of Selena’s desperate visit to the Dirge back in 1967. ‘Do you know what happened to Selena?’
Granma Sylvie’s face was grave. ‘Yes, but perhaps Amos can explain it better than me.’ She flicked through and pointed to the top of a page dated 20 October 1967.
Two months before Selena died. Ivy began to read aloud so that Seb and Valian could hear:
‘Wait. Amos and Selena were in love?’ Ivy said.
‘They were engaged to be married,’ Granma Sylvie explained, ‘but Amos was afraid to announce it publicly in case the Dirge used Selena to get to him. She wasn’t Wolfsbane back then. That postcard you found – she and I were friends at that time, but we grew apart as we got older.’ She nodded to the journal, encouraging Ivy to read on.
The writing finished there. Ivy turned the page. ‘Wait – that’s it?’
‘That was the night Amos died,’ Granma Sylvie said quietly with a frown. ‘He was murdered on the other side of that cellar door, no doubt. His body was found the next morning in the street outside.’
Ivy shivered and laid a hand on Granma Sylvie’s arm. ‘He was your friend; I’m sorry.’
She shrugged. ‘He became a ghoul for a few years before he Departed. I had some good times with him, but the experience had changed him. He was never the same.’
Ivy flicked through a few blank pages before the entries appeared again, only this time with subtle differences. The ink was now a pale, ghostly shade of blue and the handwriting was wobbly. Amos must have used the rest of the book to chart what happened to him after he died.
‘Selena came to me, devastated, after Amos was killed,’ Granma Sylvie explained. ‘Her grief was so overwhelming she decided she could no longer bear it; she wanted to become a ghoul too, so that she could be with Amos for ever.’
‘That’s why she sought out the Dirge in 1967,’ Ivy said. ‘She wanted them to turn her into a ghoul. That was why she died that night – they killed her and she asked them to!’
Granma Sylvie bobbed her head. ‘Except that her plan failed, of course. The Dirge successfully turned her into a ghoul, but when she met Amos again, he was so disgusted that she’d made a bargain with the Dirge – the very people he’d spent his life fighting – that he told her he never wanted to see her again.’ She sighed. ‘I tried to reason with Selena afterwards, but she was too heartbroken to listen. Consumed by grief and at her weakest, she sought sanctuary with the Dirge …’ She hesitated. ‘After that, I can only guess what happened. The previous Wolfsbane must have Departed – and then Selena was invited to take their place. The Selena I had known was gone. Selena today may have the same face as the girl I knew, but she is infinitely more cruel and dangerous.’
A clatter sounded downstairs. Ivy felt the floorboards creak. ‘What’s that? Is there anyone else here?’
Granma Sylvie stiffened. ‘There shouldn’t be.’
Using her whispering, Ivy searched past the walls of the bedroom and out into the mansion. One of the dead was approaching from below.
Before she could shout a warning, a figure rose through the floor. A long dark plait, pale skin and thin red lips: Selena Grimes. Her stone-grey dress shifted around her body like a shadow and her face was frozen in an expression of disgust. She glowered at Ivy and Granma Sylvie, brandishing an ebony walking cane in her hand.
It sliced through the air like a scythe. ‘That journal belongs to me!’ She lunged towards them, cane aloft. Crack! Several thorny creepers shot from the end of it, flying straight for Ivy’s face.
She ducked out of the way just in time. The brambles ripped into Granma Sylvie’s bed, tearing open the pillows.
Selena laughed. ‘You cannot hope to escape this time. I’m going to kill you all, as I sh
ould have done a long time ago.’ She whirled the uncommon cane above her head and a forest of thorns ripped through the floorboards, shredding anything in their path. ‘Give me that!’ she screeched, lunging for the journal in Granma Sylvie’s hands. ‘How dare you touch it!’
Granma Sylvie spun away, causing Selena to trip over a pile of books and end up on her hands and knees, hovering eerily above the floor. Smacking his drumsticks at Granma Sylvie’s old wardrobe, Seb sent it toppling over onto Selena with a loud bang.
‘You three, get to the stairs,’ Granma Sylvie ordered, grabbing Ivy’s satchel and tugging out the Sack of Stars. ‘There’s a car in the drive; I’ll meet you there. Go – now!’
Her voice spurred Ivy into action and she ran over to the door. Selena was stirring, her body appearing through the wardrobe. Ivy dodged several leaping brambles before escaping onto the landing, Seb and Valian right behind her.
‘What about Granma?’ Seb called, looking back into the bedroom. Granma Sylvie was by the window, tossing Amos’s notebook into the Sack of Stars.
‘It sounds like she has a plan. Do what she says,’ Valian urged. ‘Selena’s trying to kill us. More of the Dirge could be on their way. We need to run – now.’
Ivy tore down the stairs after Seb and Valian, shooting through the front door and out into the night. The house was surrounded by a neat lawn and a trimmed box hedge; a vintage Volkswagen Beetle was parked in the drive. Ivy heard a scratchy thud on the lawn and saw Granma Sylvie touching down, lowering an uncommon belt to her waist. Ivy had used one before – they enabled you to fly.
‘Kept one in my room for emergencies,’ Granma Sylvie called, shaking the belt. ‘Get in the car! I’ve trapped Selena with an uncommon paperclip, but she’ll break free at any moment.’
The doors were unlocked. Seb took the front passenger seat while Valian and Ivy squeezed into the back. Ivy was all fingers and thumbs as she struggled to get her seat belt on. It was strange being in a common mode of transport again. Granma Sylvie got the engine running and pulled away.
‘Where are we going?’ Seb asked, still panting.
Ivy looked through the rear window as vines burst through the first-floor windows of the mansion and spread across the front garden. Selena was nowhere to be seen.
‘To the allotments,’ Granma Sylvie said. ‘We have to get back to Lundinor and find Ethel and the others. If Selena’s risking using that cane on common land, it can mean only one thing.’
‘What?’ Ivy asked, impressed by how much Granma Sylvie now understood.
‘The underguard must be busy dealing with something else,’ she said. ‘Something very bad.’
There was no underguard from Special Branch in the potting shed to escort them down the uncommon hose, so the four of them helped themselves to a garden sack each and took it in turns to clamber inside. ‘Why couldn’t we use the Sack of Stars to get there?’ Ivy asked before pushing off.
‘I’ve sent something else through it,’ Granma Sylvie said. ‘You can’t use bags for two different journeys at the same time.’
As Ivy twisted round and round the helter-skelter into the main arrivals chamber, a scent began to fill her nostrils – charcoal and sulphur, like the smell of fireworks night. By the time she reached the bottom and stood up, she was coughing.
On the opposite side of the chamber the Great Gates stood open, but their intricate design featuring orange and lemon trees had been altered to show something else:
The smoking hourglass.
‘Stay close to me,’ Granma Sylvie said, leading the way through the Great Gates onto the Gauntlet. ‘Selena can’t be far behind.’
Ivy scanned the area. ‘Where is everyone?’ The wide gravel road was deserted, and the only sound came from the wind rustling through the empty fields on either side. The thatched cottages had their blinds drawn and windows shut. Ivy knew it was late, but she had expected the place to be teeming with supporters leaving the Grivens contest.
Valian cast wary glances up and down the street. ‘I’ve never seen Lundinor like this.’
They continued along the Gauntlet, searching for clues.
‘Over there.’ Seb pointed to a blackened spot by the roadside: a small muddy hole surrounded by a ring of singed grass.
‘What is it?’ Ivy asked.
Valian bent down to inspect it. ‘A drain hole. Lundinor might seem different every season, but the core structure – the air filters, the sewage system, the road layout – is always the same. The drain network runs through all four quarters.’
‘They’ve overflowed.’ Granma Sylvie took out a pen, poked it into the sludge and held it under her nose. Ivy grimaced.
‘This isn’t drain water,’ Granma Sylvie said. ‘There’s something uncommon going on here. You smell …’
Ivy screwed up her face, giving the pen a sniff. The mud smelled smoky and sweet, just like … ‘Dragon’s Breath Ale!’ Ivy exclaimed.
‘Ale? Interesting.’ Granma Sylvie wiped her pen on the grass and straightened up. ‘We’d better keep walking.’
More scorched drains appeared as they continued. As the House of Bells came into sight, Granma Sylvie gasped. The thatched roof was smoking and half the wooden porch had collapsed, blocking the door. Chunks of splintered masonry lay scattered across the street. ‘Ethel!’ she cried, hurrying closer. ‘Ethel, are you in there?’
Ivy shot Seb and Valian a look of concern as they followed her.
There was silence at first, and then a muffled voice called, ‘Sylvie?’ Ethel appeared at a broken downstairs window, her face sweating and pale behind the jagged pieces of glass. ‘What are you doing out there? Get inside; they’ll smell you.’
‘Smell us?’ Seb repeated. ‘What are you talking about?’
Before Ethel could answer, Granma Sylvie turned and stared into the distance, going very still. Ivy followed her gaze. Smoke was rising over a far-off hill, forming into a huge cloud that loomed under the cave ceiling.
‘Ivy,’ Granma Sylvie said in a tight voice. ‘That cloud – what does your whispering tell you about it?’
Ivy concentrated hard, focusing on the distant patch of smoke. There were lots of broken souls there, with angry voices talking at the same time. ‘It’s made of dead creatures,’ she said. ‘I think they’re coming towards us.’ Suddenly she caught a sound on the air – a rumbling, crackling noise like a giant bonfire.
‘Pyroaches,’ Granma Sylvie growled. ‘They shouldn’t be here; there isn’t any fire.’
Ivy recalled Mr Littlefair’s chilling warning about the creatures during the fire at Brewster’s Alehouse. ‘Dragon’s Breath Ale allows people to temporarily breathe fire. Could the flooded drains have something to do with it?’
Valian scuffed his foot on the blackened grass. ‘If the ale is in the sewers, any number of pyroaches could have drunk it. It would allow them to create fire themselves – to move around freely.’
In the distance the dark swarm was getting bigger. Granma Sylvie’s face was white with horror. ‘They’ll be here in minutes. We need to get inside now!’
‘Over here,’ Seb called, scrambling across the porch and lifting aside a plank of wood. ‘There’s a hole in the wall we can fit through.’
Ivy could hear the crackling noise getting louder. ‘Hurry – I think I can see them.’ A gigantic ball of fire turned onto the Gauntlet. Inside the flames was a mass of long dark bodies flying in warplane formation. Thatched cottages on either side caught light as they passed.
Without a second to spare, Ivy, Seb, Valian and Granma Sylvie scrambled through the splintered hole into the House of Bells. Seb speedily covered it up with wood from the other side.
The cottage walls trembled.
‘Get down!’ Ethel whispered, kneeling on the floor.
They all crawled towards a window and peered over the ledge. The timbers rattled as the swarm of pyroaches shot past. With every glimpse, Ivy was able to build a more complete picture of the creatures, and it made her skin craw
l. Each pyroach was the size of a small dog, with long wings the colour of molten lava and a body that scraped and crunched as it flew. Its head was disturbingly human, but eight black legs hung from the segment between its neck and chest.
Ivy tucked herself down under the window frame; she was shaking. The pyroaches’ wings thudded through the air, making the walls of the House of Bells rattle.
After a minute or so the crackling noises began to fade.
‘The pyroaches were waiting outside the Grivens stadium,’ Ethel said. ‘I managed to escape on a mop, but most of the audience fled to Mr Punch’s big top. Violet sent me featherlights to explain what was going on. Mr Punch ’as protected everyone in the tent, but ’ow long ’e can hold out, I don’t know. No one ’as any weapons to defend themselves.’
Ivy thought of Judy – she must have left the stadium before anyone had discovered the pyroaches waiting outside. ‘Perhaps the sewers were flooded with Dragon’s Breath Ale while the contest was going on.’
Ethel blinked. ‘Ale? No one at the big top knows anything about that.’
‘Where’s the underguard?’ Valian asked as Ethel headed for the door at the back of the shop.
‘A second swarm of pyroaches are besieging the station,’ she replied over her shoulder. ‘A few officers may ’ave escaped using body bags, but if they’ve tried to re-enter Lundinor through the Great Gates, they’ll ’ave just been driven inside.’
The others followed Ethel into the storeroom.
‘We’ve got to rescue them,’ Ivy said, curling her hands into fists. ‘We could evacuate people using the Sack of Stars.’
Granma Sylvie reached into her handbag and pulled it out. Ethel cast the hessian sack a startled look.
The Smoking Hourglass Page 22
