The Shadow Lantern

by Teresa Flavin

  “You weren’t with Blaise, were you?” Dean taunted.

  “Like I said,” she called back wearily, “my business, not yours.”

  “That’s a yes, then.”

  Just ignore him, Sunni said to herself. But that’s what she’d been doing for weeks. She turned on her heel and stalked into the front room.

  “Get a life, Dean!” she said. “You’re like some old grannie sitting here all the time, watching who comes and goes. It’s just sad!”

  “Me, sad?” Dean wore a smug little grin. “Go look in a mirror, Sunni.”

  “That’s out of order—”

  “Oh yeah?” he cut in. “At least I’m not permanently miserable. And like I really care where you’ve been when you act all secretive.”

  “You seem to! You jump on me every time I walk through the door.”

  “Because you’re going to get caught soon,” Dean smirked. “And I want to be there when Mum finds out. Which she will, ’cause you haven’t got the guts to stand up for yourself.”

  “What a cheek!” Sunni stared at him. “I had enough guts to come and rescue you inside the painting last winter.”

  “Yeah.” Dean shrugged. “That was then…”

  “I’m not listening to this.” She swept out of the room before he started needling her again.

  “Is that you, Sunni?” Rhona asked from her bedroom.

  “Yes.”

  “What time are you going to Mandy’s?”

  “Soon.”

  “How are you getting there?”

  “Walking.”

  “I’m not so sure about that…”

  “I am.”

  She locked her bedroom door and threw her bag onto her bed. You haven’t got the guts to stand up for yourself. Dean’s words sat in her head, refusing to budge. The longer they sat there, the angrier Sunni got, because maybe her annoying stepbrother had a point.

  Her Halloween costume was hanging on the back of the door. It wasn’t her most original idea to be a ghostly maiden, but it was easy. Still fuming about Dean, she took her outfit and make-up into the bathroom, emerging twenty minutes later in a white vintage nightgown, shawl and flat shoes. Her face, lips and arms were chalky pale and her long white wig made her look like she’d stepped from a snowdrift. Her eyes were darkly circled with grey eye shadow.

  She put her pyjamas, a change of clothes and Mandy’s birthday present into an overnight bag and tiptoed carefully downstairs. She could hear Dean in the front room and went out through the back door so she wouldn’t have to see him again.

  “I’m off,” she shouted back into the house. Rhona’s voice buzzed a question from upstairs, but Sunni just answered, “I’ve got my phone. See you tomorrow.”

  The wind blew the thin gown up over her knees and she held the wig down as she made her way along the dim street. The rain had stopped but she had to step around slimy piles of leaves and twigs. Something behind her made a cracking sound and she nearly tripped over an uneven paving stone as she turned round.

  What if Blaise is right and we are being followed? She squinted into the gloom but saw nothing. It couldn’t be Soranzo. He was back in the 1500s where he belonged, but what if someone else was after them?

  A car’s headlamps cut through the darkness and it slowed to a halt by Sunni. A vampire girl in the back seat rolled down the window.

  “Sunni?” she shouted and opened the car door. “It is you. Get in, or you’ll ruin your costume.”

  “Vicky! Nice timing.” Sunni heaved a sigh of relief and climbed inside.

  “You should have phoned me. We could have picked you up.”

  “I thought I’d walk it,” Sunni said. “Dean’s been driving me mad and I needed to calm down.”

  “What a surprise,” said Vicky, rolling her eyes. “You look so cool, Sunni. For a minute Mum and I thought we were seeing a real, live ghost.”

  “There’s no such thing as a live ghost.”

  “Whatever,” said Vicky. “Your jacket and bag gave you away.”

  “Real ghosts don’t need to carry their pyjamas about.” Sunni grinned. “Nice fangs, by the way.”

  The two girls jumped out of the car in front of a stone house with leering jack o’ lanterns glowing in each window and a skeletal scarecrow flapping at the gate.

  The main door swung open by itself. Mandy’s front hall was completely dark and silent.

  “Oh, no, here we go,” Vicky whispered. “Her dad’s up to his old tricks.”

  “Yeah, you can see it coming a mile away.” Sunni took a step inside, her hands up in front of her face to ward off whatever was coming. “Hello? Mandy?”

  Vicky was moving ahead, close to Sunni’s side, when someone right next to them screamed and something whizzed through the air. A tangle of sticky, stringy stuff hit Vicky in the face and she shrieked, batting it away.

  “Ewww!” she shouted, her voice nearly drowned out by the piercing screams nearby. “Get it off me!”

  Sunni yanked Vicky sideways and stumbled forwards. She put her hand out to feel for a wall or furniture and grasped something like a railing. But it felt plasticky and moved slightly.

  “Oh no, Vic,” she murmured, as the thing came away from whatever had been holding it in mid-air.

  “What?” Vicky managed to ask in between nervous giggles.

  Before Sunni could answer, a torch flicked on, revealing Mandy’s dad in a Frankenstein costume. He held the light under his chin, making his face shadowy and horrible, and then flashed it at them.

  “Arm,” he grunted, waving one empty sleeve. “Give me my arm.”

  Sunni gaped at the bloody arm in her hand and dropped it to the floor with a screech.

  There was a fragrance of wood smoke in the air and the dense trees swayed in the dark as Blaise followed James, Iona and the others up Blackhope Tower’s long drive. He chatted and laughed with them, but dark memories of this castle were flooding over him.

  The place had had an eerie reputation for centuries because of its connection with the artist Fausto Corvo, who was also suspected of sorcery. In 1582, Blackhope Tower’s owner, Sir Innes Blackhope, paid Corvo to make him a special painting, The Mariner’s Return to Arcadia, which hung in the Mariner’s Chamber. The artist also designed a notorious tiled floor-labyrinth for the chamber before he vanished mysteriously. Ever since it had been constructed, skeletons had appeared suddenly on the labyrinth with no explanation.

  Blaise had known the rumours that Corvo had made magical paintings and had escaped Venice to protect his artwork from being stolen by rich and greedy Soranzo. But he would never have imagined that The Mariner’s Return was also a magical painting and that the labyrinth would transport him to the heart of it, into the wondrous but deadly worlds of Arcadia, on that unforgettable afternoon.

  Iona broke into his thoughts. “Have you been at Blackhope Tower a lot since… you know?”

  “Off and on,” he replied. “But everything’s different in the Mariner’s Chamber now. You can’t get up close to see the painting any more.”

  “I know. It’s total rubbish!” James said. “Lucky you got inside it while you could.”

  Yeah, lucky me, Blaise thought. I get to worry whether criminals will be after me for the rest of my life.

  “I’d love to know what it was like to be inside The Mariner’s Return.” One of the girls got into step with him. “I know a lot of people at school think you made it all up but I believe you.”

  “Uh, maybe later?” He didn’t want to talk about it, and his attention was attracted to a row of marquees on the lawn in front of Blackhope Tower. They glowed from inside like paper lanterns and he could see a few people lugging equipment back and forth from cars and vans. The tall stone castle loomed behind, dotted with lights in its small, deep-set windows.

  The girl shrugged. “Oh, okay.”

  She left him and caught up with James, who led them into Blackhope Tower’s entrance hall and told the lady behind the reception desk where they were going
.

  “I reckon Mr Bell will be up in the Great Hall,” said Iona as she skipped ahead of James to the spiral staircase. They wound their way up the narrow stone steps to the first floor, following the hum of voices.

  Blaise stopped short at the Great Hall’s entrance. “Wow.”

  “It’s good, isn’t it?” Iona grinned.

  The enormous room had been transformed into an atmospheric cavern. A canopy of giant black spider webs hung overhead, a vast net below the grand vaulted ceiling and brass chandeliers. Stags’ antlers and ancient shields were still mounted high on the walls but the rest of the paintings and decorations had been taken away to make room for large black silhouettes of flying witches with tattered robes trailing behind them and grinning skeletons dancing hand in hand. A row of tiny jack o’ lanterns, carved out of turnips, lined the windowsill of the large window in one wall, waiting to be lit. The huge walk-in fireplace contained the largest pumpkin Blaise had ever seen. Mrs Gordon, a maths teacher at Braeside High, was hunched on a stool sawing a face into it.

  She let out a puff of air. “Mr Bell! The wretched thing has defeated me. Can you give me a hand please? This pumpkin refuses to become a jack o’ lantern.”

  “I’ll do it, Mrs Gordon,” said James, striding over.

  She shook her head. “I’m sure you’d do a lovely job but let’s not risk a visit to A&E, hmm?”

  Lorimer Bell called out, “Just give me a moment. I’m caught up with the web.” He was balanced on a ladder, tying a long-legged felt spider into the web with a piece of elastic.

  “Blaise,” he said with a smile as he caught sight of his pupil. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came with the others to have a look.” Blaise nodded at James, who was now walking around with several other spiders bouncing up and down from his fingers. “That web is amazing.”

  Lorimer pulled on the spider to make it dance and climbed down the ladder. “Made by Iona and her crew. Don’t ask me how they did it because I think it involved witchcraft. And crocheting many, many balls of black wool with gigantic hooks.”

  “Can I help?” Blaise asked.

  “Hmm, let’s see,” his art teacher said, scanning the volunteers arranging round tables and folding chairs. His eyes rested on a woman in a flowing dress tacking a skeleton silhouette to the wall. Strands of her long dark hair were dyed violet and indigo blue. “I’m not sure…”

  “Anything.”

  “That’s very kind, Blaise, but I think we’re sorted with helpers in here.”

  “Okay.” Blaise touched the festival leaflet in his pocket and his heart began to thump a bit faster. “But do you have a minute to talk? I need to show you…”

  “Oh, Mr Bell,” said Mrs Gordon sharply. “The pumpkin?”

  “One moment, Mrs Gordon,” Lorimer replied. “What is it you need to show me, Blaise?”

  “Can we go outside for a second?” he asked, dropping his voice.

  “Of course.” Lorimer led him outside the Hall’s door and asked, “What’s the matter?”

  “This.” He pulled the leaflet out and pointed at the block of words that had caught his attention.

  Lorimer glanced at it and nodded. “The Oculus. I saw that, too.”

  “Do you know anything about this, Mr Bell?” asked Blaise.

  “Nothing more than it says here,” said Lorimer. “A fellow called Munro is going to exhibit a magic lantern designed by Fausto Corvo called the Oculus.”

  “Yeah, Fausto Corvo!” Blaise said breathlessly. “Since when did he design magic lanterns?”

  “It was news to me too, but not that surprising when you think about it. Corvo created paintings and labyrinths but he also designed sculptures and even the rapier he carried.”

  “I guess it is the kind of thing that would interest him.” Blaise stuffed the leaflet back into his pocket. “But this came out of nowhere. Some guy’s just turning up with this Oculus and showing it off in the Mariner’s Chamber…”

  “Where everything happened to you last winter.” The art teacher nodded sympathetically. “Is that what’s really bothering you about this?”

  “Yeah, maybe,” said Blaise. “It feels wrong. Why can’t people gawk someplace else? Why can’t they just leave the Mariner’s Chamber alone?”

  “I’ve sometimes felt the same way after what happened to Angus.” Blaise saw a shadow cross Lorimer’s face at the mention of his crooked cousin, Angus Bellini, who had pursued them into The Mariner’s Return to Arcadia.

  “Sorry, Mr Bell. I didn’t mean to remind you…”

  “Don’t be sorry,” said Lorimer. “It wasn’t your fault. Angus brought everything onto himself. But you and Sunni and Dean returned safely, thank heaven, and the labyrinth faded to nothing. It can’t take anyone else away now.”

  “It must be weird for you to be here doing this festival.”

  “Because of Angus? Sometimes. I’d give anything to have him back, even after what he did, because he’s still my flesh and blood. But I’m learning to accept what I can’t change, Blaise,” Lorimer said. “It might sound a bit strange, but when I’m here, at least I can go to the Mariner’s Chamber and say hello to him. I know he’s somewhere deep inside that painting.”

  “I talk to my grandmother at her grave,” murmured Blaise, and as soon as he said the word ‘grave’ he wished he hadn’t. Angus wasn’t officially dead, though he might as well be. “Oh man, I’m sorry.”

  Lorimer laughed under his breath. “Don’t worry. I know what you mean, though Angus would hate being compared to anyone’s grannie.” He rubbed his hands together. “Now then. Aren’t you a little curious about this magic lantern Corvo designed?”

  “Sure.”

  “So am I,” said Lorimer. “I’ll be having a close look at it myself when I can get away from festival duties. Speaking of which, I’d better get back to that pumpkin.” He turned to leave. “You coming, Blaise?”

  “No, I think I’ll head home.”

  “You’re not going to hang out with Iona and James and the others?”

  “They’re pretty busy. Maybe I’ll see them tomorrow.” Would he? Had they even noticed his absence from the Great Hall? He had no idea. “Good luck finishing up tonight, Mr Bell.”

  “Thanks, I think we’re nearly there.” Lorimer smiled. “And you’re okay, right?”

  “Yes,” Blaise answered. “Guess I just needed to talk.”

  “Good. Safe home then.”

  Blaise’s mind was racing. He took a few hesitant steps down the spiral staircase then turned round and sprinted up to the next floor.

  The corridor was empty and silent. He crept towards the Mariner’s Chamber, hoping it might be open for last-minute festival preparations. An elaborate sign outside proclaimed that Munro would be displaying the Oculus at regular times throughout Saturday and Sunday, plus a Halloween show on Saturday night, but for now the door was firmly shut.

  As he walked away, Blaise tried to let go of his uneasy feelings. For all his teacher’s soothing words, he still worried about the arrival of Corvo’s invention. Where had it come from? And why had Fausto Corvo made a magic lantern at all?

  Blaise swung down the narrow staircase and hunched into his collar as he crossed the entrance hall. When he hit the outdoors he broke into a jog and set off along the drive past the marquees. The wind hit him square in the face and he had an unnerving moment of déjà vu. Eight months before, he’d left Blackhope Tower alone one snowy late afternoon and walked this route with his head full of another problem. He had tossed and turned all that night trying to decide whether to go into The Mariner’s Return to Arcadia to find Sunni and Dean. And he’d despised himself for taking so long.

  A new ball of emotions was now spinning inside Blaise. Blackhope Tower was drawing him back, if it had ever let him go. Part of him wanted to run the other way but another part wanted to know about this Oculus.

  He leaned into the wind and pushed on. By the time he reached the bus stop on the main road, h
e knew what to do.

  Chapter 3

  The six girls at Mandy’s sleepover party burst into the dining room, which was lit with candles and lanterns. A feast was laid out on a black tablecloth decorated with silver moons. The vampire, ghost, elf, witch, zombie prom queen and alien filled their plates and hurried back to the living room to snag the best seats.

  Sunni had just settled down to a plate of tacos and salad when someone tapped her shoulder. She nearly dropped her dinner when she saw it was the plastic arm with a bloody stump instead of an elbow.

  Zombie prom queen Mandy laughed and waved the plastic arm as she plunked herself down on the sofa next to Sunni. “Recovered yet?”

  “Just about. That thing nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  “We got you this year!” said Mandy triumphantly, smoothing down her ruffled dress with a gloved hand. “I thought you were going to faint.” She patted Sunni’s knee with the plastic arm. “Hey, if I put a pen in its hand, it can write. Maybe it can even do the Ouija board for us.”

  “Will you get that away from me? It smells as bad as it looks.”

  “Hmm.” Mandy raised it to her nose. “Can’t smell anything. Guess I’m used to it.”

  “Used to it? Like it’s part of the family or something?” Sunni bit into her taco with a crunch.

  “Yeah. My dad puts it in funny places as a joke. This morning it was holding the shower curtain back.”

  “Ugh,” said Sunni. “Are we really doing the Ouija board? They’re kind of creepy.”

  “Not to me,” said Mandy.

  “Well, you hear stories about what happens when people mess about with them—”

  “I don’t mess about. I do the Ouija board properly.”

  “Okay, okay,” said Sunni. “I believe you.”

  When they had sung happy birthday, eaten the carrot cake with poisonous-looking orange icing and cooed over Mandy’s gifts, the girls cleared away the remains of the feast and brushed down the black and silver tablecloth.