by Jenny Nimmo
"I'm sorry, Maisie. I don't think I can eat much." Charlie explained what had happened.
"I thought I heard barking," Maisie exclaimed. "Oh, Charlie, what wonderful news."
"Except that Billy has disappeared," said Charlie.
Maisie's face fell. "Charlie, are you sure? He must be in the house somewhere. Or he could have run up the road for something. Check his clothes."
Charlie went up to his bedroom. Billy's clothes were piled neatly on a chair, exactly where he had left them. His shoes were under the chair, his slippers by his bed. "So he can't have gone far," Charlie said to himself, and once again, he tried to dismiss the thought that had persisted in entering his head ever since he had searched the cellar. Billy has to be in Badlock.
No. A wave of nausea made Charlie sit down, quickly, on his bed. He was far more frightened for Billy than he had been for himself. What chance did Billy have, with his white hair and poor eyesight? The shadow's army was bound to catch him. But what possible reason could the count have for taking Billy and letting Runner Bean go?
Unless it had been the shadow's plan all along? He had known that Billy could never resist a cry for help from a dog. Charlie remembered Manfred's insistence that Billy should come back to number nine, where the painting of Badlock waited like a trap.
Charlie tore downstairs. "He's gone, Maisie. And I know where. He's in that painting."
"I can't believe it, Charlie," said Maisie. "If he's gone, I'm going to call the police, there's no two ways about it." She went into the hall and began to dial.
Knowing it would be useless to try and stop her, Charlie waited in the kitchen. He listened to Maisie's voice, insisting that a child named Billy Raven was missing, and then her angry response to something she'd been told. "Bloor's Academy. Mr. Ezekiel Bloor, or perhaps the headmaster, Dr. Bloor. But the boy disappeared from here, not there."
There was a pause while Maisie sighed heavily and tapped her foot. "Thank you. And will you let me know?... I'll call you, then. Good-bye." She slammed down the phone and came back to the kitchen, looking flushed and angry.
"They can't proceed until they're authorized to do so by the child's guardian," said Maisie. "I suppose it must be Dr. Bloor, since Billy's an orphan. What a mess!"
Charlie said nothing. He was now utterly convinced that Billy had been captured by the painting. How pleased Grandma Bone had been when she saw Billy arrive. It was obviously she who had locked the cellar door after Billy had "gone in."
Charlie sat by the kitchen window waiting for Uncle Paton to arrive in the white camper van. He saw Benjamin and Runner Bean walk down to the park. He saw Mrs. Brown go to the mailbox; she was wearing a skirt and high-heeled shoes, for a change. It was no use telling Mrs. Brown that Billy was still missing.
Maisie brought Charlie a mug of hot cocoa. "Your uncle might not come back till next week. Don't look so forlorn, Charlie. I'm sure little Billy will turn up."
"He won't," muttered Charlie.
He discovered that the cellar door key was still in his pocket. When he'd finished his cocoa, he went down into the cellar and stared at the painting of Badlock. He scrutinized every inch of it, looking for a way in. He didn't care if he was caught again, if only he could find Billy. But the shadow had no use for Charlie Bone at present. It was Billy he wanted.
"Why have you taken him?" Charlie shouted at the painting. "Have you made a bargain? Billy for your freedom to travel back into the world? Well, you won't do it, Count Harken. Not now: The Mirror of Amoret was broken, so there's no way back. EVER!"
A blast of wind hurled Charlie against the opposite wall.
"You heard me, then!" he cried.
Dust, laden with splinters, flew into his face, and he covered his eyes just in time. His nostrils were filled with grit: It even crept between his teeth. Choking and sneezing, Charlie crawled across the cellar floor. He stumbled up the steps and fell into the hall. As he lay there, rubbing his eyes and spitting dust, he became aware of a tall figure looming over him.
"Foolish boy," said Grandma Bone. "What did you hope to achieve?"
Charlie sat up and glared at her. "You did it, didn't you? You opened the cellar door and then locked it behind Billy. I know he's in Badlock, and somehow I'm going to get him out."
"Don't meddle with the shadow," she said grimly.
Charlie watched his grandmother walk to the front door. She was wearing her Sunday best: shiny black shoes, a Persian lamb coat, and a purple velvet hat. The back of her bony shoulders expressed utter contempt.
There was roast beef for lunch, accompanied by Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, crispy sprouts, and rich gravy. It was Charlie's favorite meal, and he tried to do it justice, but the food kept sticking in his throat, and he had to lay down his knife and fork. "I'm sorry, Maisie, it just won't go down," he said.
"Tell you what, I'll give the police a call," said Maisie. "Let's see if they've made any progress."
Charlie didn't expect to hear good news, but he was totally unprepared for what Maisie had to tell him. She came running back from the phone, crying, "They've found him, Charlie."
Charlie stood up, his fork clattering to the floor. "Found him?" he said in disbelief.
"He went back to Bloor's, that's what the police said. They rang the school, and Dr. Bloor said that Billy had turned up very early this morning. He was feeling homesick, the headmaster said."
"But, Maisie, he left his clothes, even his slippers. He couldn't have walked all that way in bare feet and pajamas."
"Then they're lying, Charlie, and I don't know what I can do about that." She ran the tap, and water splashed loudly onto the dirty plates and pans. "I wish your parents were here," she muttered. "Your father understands these things better than I do."
"Well, he isn't here," said Charlie. Adding bitterly, "He's never here."
Maisie turned to face Charlie. She didn't reprimand him for what he'd said. Instead, a look of pity crossed her face. "I'm sorry, Charlie," she said gently. "These things that happen to you and your friends, they're beyond my comprehension. I just can't deal with them."
"I'll go to the bookstore," said Charlie, leaving the kitchen. "The others may be there."
"Don't go alone, Charlie, please," called Maisie. "I know something's not right in this city, even if I can't understand it. I believe in your flying trolls and magic kettles and... and evil paintings, you know I do. I just get so upset sometimes."
Charlie's mind was made up. But as luck would have it, he didn't have to go out alone. The doorbell rang, and when Charlie opened the door, there stood Benjamin and Runner Bean.
"Want to come over to my place?" said Benjamin.
When Charlie explained that he was on his way to the bookstore, Benjamin agreed to go with him.
On their way to Ingledew's, Charlie brought Benjamin up to date. Runner Bean bounded along in front of them, as though he were trying to escape from his own tail. His eyes still had a wary look, and he was easily spooked. Flying litter, swinging gates, and honking cars all had him leaping sideways with a loud yelp.
"I can't believe a headmaster would lie," Benjamin panted, as they ran to catch up with the yellow dog.
"Well, he did," said Charlie. "I know that Billy's in Badlock. What I can't figure out is why the shadow wants him."
They were now in the older part of the city, where the great cathedral towered above the surrounding stores and houses. Runner Bean had dropped behind them for some reason. Every now and again he would give a low whine and sniff anxiously around a doorstep or a streetlight. All at once, the dog's whining became a full-blooded yelp of terror.
Charlie and Benjamin turned to see a huge and hideous creature approaching. The thing had to be a dog, but its legs were like concrete pipes, and its body showed not a trace of hair. Its head was a grotesque mockery of a hound, with a broad snout and dead stony eyes. The "thing" had teeth, however. Oh, yes, it had teeth, longer and sharper than any earthly dog should have.
Runn
er Bean growled and, with incredible courage, moved forward - his ears were back, his body was low, and his tail touched the ground. He was afraid but determined to defend the boys.
Benjamin grabbed Charlie's arm so tightly it hurt. "That thing will kill him, Charlie."
Charlie was thinking fast. Eric had to be near. It was Eric they had to deal with, not the hound. Charlie scanned the doorways and saw a crouching form, tucked behind a narrow porch.
"Ben, get Runner to stop that boy," cried Charlie. "See! There! Quickly!"
The two dogs were getting closer to each other. The stone hound's feet pounded the cobblestoned street like a slow, heavy machine. Thump! Thump! Thump! And then it made a sound, hollow and unearthly. It stopped Runner Bean in his tracks, but he didn't retreat.
Benjamin spotted the crouching form. "Runner!" he yelled. "There! There! Get him!"
Runner Bean looked back; he seemed confused.
"There!" Benjamin pointed. "There, Runner. Get him! Now!"
Runner Bean ran so fast the stone hound had no time even to put out a paw. But as Benjamin's dog leaped at Eric Shellhorn, the boy emitted a hissing chant and the stone hound turned and flung itself at the yellow dog.
There was an explosion of sound and a cloud of dust filled the street. When the dust cleared, the boys could see that one side of the porch had fallen in and its narrow tiled roof hung at a dangerous angle. The front door had vanished; so had the hound. It was now inside the house.
Runner Bean limped toward Benjamin, holding up a paw. There was no sign of Eric. Hidden by the dust cloud, he must have escaped back to Piminy Street.
"Now what?" said Charlie. "Why is Eric doing this? Does he want to hurt me, or is it Runner Bean he's after?"
"Look, the owner," whispered Benjamin.
An elderly man had emerged through the broken doorway. He stared at the boys with a dazed expression.
He was very thin, with strands of crinkly white hair, deep-set eyes, and the sort of skin that appeared never to have seen the sun. His black suit was dingy with age and his high-collared shirt was a dirty parchment yellow.
"Did you see that?" The man's frail voice hardly reached them.
Realizing he couldn't deny it, Charlie walked toward the man, saying, "Yes, we did, sir."
"There's a great stone thing in my hall," the man said tremulously, "all broken up. Looks like a stone dog."
"It is, sir," said Charlie, peering into the old man's hall. "At least it was." The hound's head had separated from its body and the rest lay around the floor covered in bricks.
"I am a retired lawyer," the old man told Charlie. "Mr. Hector Bittermouse, you may have heard of me." He didn't wait for Charlie to reply. "Look! I haven't done any harm for sixty years, so why would anyone do that?" He pointed to the rubble in his hall. "And who was it?"
Charlie struggled to reply. He could hardly tell Mr. Bittermouse that a six-year-old boy was responsible for demolishing his door. It was too incredible. "It was ... it was ..." Charlie was aware that Benjamin and Runner Bean were now standing just behind him. Benjamin also found it impossible to provide Mr. Bittermouse with an answer.
"No!" Mr. Bittermouse suddenly cried out. "It was one of them, wasn't it?"
"One of who?" asked Charlie.
"One of those people from Piminy Street. My wife and I should have moved years ago, but we thought they'd all gone, and moving is such an upheaval." The old man began to wring his hands. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. What am I to do?"
Mr. Bittermouse was clearly not up to the task confronting him, so the boys helped to clear the rubble into the street and prop up the broken door. And then Charlie had a bright idea. Norton Cross, the large Pets' Cafe doorman, would probably be looking for work.
"If you send a letter to Mr. Norton Cross, The Pets' Cafe, Frog Street, I think he'll be able to help you, Mr. Bittermouse," said Charlie. "He's very strong, and nothing frightens him."
"Write it down for me, young man." Mr. Bittermouse beckoned them into a dark study where a huge mahogany desk filled almost an entire wall. The old man took out a pen and a notepad and handed them to Charlie. Charlie wrote down Norton's name and the Pets' Cafe address.
"And what would your name be, young man?" asked Mr. Bittermouse.
"Charlie Bone, sir."
"Bone," said the old man thoughtfully. "My older brother knew a Bone - Lyell Bone."
"He's my father," said Charlie.
"They were friends," went on Mr. Bittermouse, "good friends. Their relationship wasn't just professional."
Charlie had no way of knowing that his next question would have far-reaching consequences. He merely wanted to know how and why his father had become friends with a man who must be very old. "Who is your brother, Mr. Bittermouse?" asked Charlie.
"He's a lawyer like me, Charlie - was a lawyer, I should say. Though he still does a bit of work, now and again, for special friends. Barnaby Bittermouse is his name. He's over ninety, but his memory is a lot sharper than mine. Lives all by himself on Tigerfield Street, number ten."
Charlie filed all this away in his mind. But how could he forget names like Tigerfield and Bittermouse? And how could he forget the number ten?
CHAPTER 11
TANCRED'S NOTE
Charlie and Benjamin left Mr. Bittermouse without meeting his wife. She must be very deaf, thought Charlie, not to have heard her porch falling down. Nobody else had heard either, for that matter. Or if they had, they were keeping well away. The street was deserted. But then most people would be huddled around a fire or the TV on a cold Sunday afternoon.
Ingledew's Bookstore was not far from Mr. Bittermouse's house. Had Miss Ingledew heard the noise?
Yes, she had. "Charlie, Benjamin, how good to see you," said Miss Ingledew as she opened the door to them. "You didn't happen to see what caused that awful crash just now, did you?"
"Yes, we did," said Charlie.
Olivia, who had been packing books behind the counter, suddenly popped up like a jack-in-a-box, causing Runner Bean to leap in the air with a yelp.
"So what was it?" asked Olivia.
"I'll tell you about the crash later," said Charlie, "but really I've come to ask Miss Ingledew's advice. Something awful has happened to Billy Raven."
Olivia pulled aside the curtain behind the counter and called, "Bad news, Em!"
"Oh, no!" said Emma in a suitably tragic voice.
They all joined her in the backroom, where Miss Ingledew had a good fire burning. A pile of roasted chestnuts by the grate reminded Charlie of Christmas. There was even a jug of hot blackberry juice just inside the fireplace screen.
Once he was tucked into a corner of the sofa, with hot chestnuts in his hands and a mug of blackberry juice on the table beside him, Charlie recounted his extraordinary weekend. There were interruptions, of course, most of them from Olivia, but Benjamin and Runner Bean, lying together on a rug before the fire, fell fast asleep. The others looked quite exhausted by the time Charlie had finished, but at least they'd stayed awake.
223 Charlie was disappointed with Miss Ingledew's reaction. "Your uncle will know what to do," she said. Her face was a picture of worry.
"But he's not here," said Charlie, peeling his last chestnut.
"Where is he, Charlie? He was away all last week. What are we going to do without him?" Miss Ingledew seemed to have reversed their roles. Now she was asking Charlie for his advice.
"I was hoping you would know," Charlie replied.
"Oh!" Miss Ingledew, who was sitting at her desk, nervously flipped over a page on her calendar, picked up a pen, and put it down again. Was it possible that she was missing Uncle Paton?
Wedged in beside Charlie, Olivia was frowning with concentration. Emma, at the other end of the sofa, was staring into the fire, with her chin resting on her hands. All at once, Olivia made a loud huffing sound and cried, "I know. We'll go and see the headmaster. Maybe Billy did go back to school, but if he's not there, we'll ask Dr. Bloor where he is. He'll have t
o tell us."
"He won't tell us the truth," Emma said gloomily. "He could easily say he's sent Billy away, or something."
Miss Ingledew stood up and began to pace about. "It's the Piminy Street business that worries me," she said. "Poor Mrs. Kettle. I must pay her a visit. And Mr. Bittermouse! That creature could have killed him. Something should be done about Eric."
Benjamin had woken up. Rubbing his eyes and yawning, he grumbled that Runner Bean had never hurt anyone, so why had a stone dog been sent after him?
"Maybe it wasn't," Olivia said brightly. "Do you want to know what I think?"
"Tell us, Olivia." Miss Ingledew sat down again and put on an earnest expression.
"I think the stone hound was meant to break down Mr. Bittermouse's door," Olivia said triumphantly. "Runner Bean just happened to be in the way. Remember, Charlie? You told us Mr. Bittermouse said, 'I haven't done any harm for sixty years." Which means he did once, and someone's getting back at him at last."
Nobody argued. It made perfect sense. Except, as Miss Ingledew pointed out, the someone who put Eric up to his nasty tricks must be quite old by now, if Mr. Bittermouse had harmed them such a very long time ago.
"It could be a family feud," Benjamin suggested.
"Yes, yes, Benjamin, I think you're right." Miss Ingledew sat down again. "Their descendants are returning to settle old scores, to continue the feuds that began centuries ago." She frowned. "But why now? And who has summoned them?"
"The shadow," said Charlie.
Olivia shook her head. "It can't be the shadow. Why do you keep coming back to him, Charlie? The shadow was banished. He's gone. If he wasn't, he'd be seen in the streets, causing trouble, appearing at Bloor's. He was an enchanter, for goodness' sake; he'd be creating mayhem, after what happened to him."
"Then he's reaching those Piminy Street people through someone else," Charlie claimed. "Mrs. Tilpin. She still has the Mirror of Amoret. Even though it's broken, maybe she can still talk to the shadow."
"Let's hope no one can fix the mirror," said Emma.
Mss Ingledew gave a little shiver, as though she were trying to shrug off something unpleasant. "I must get back to work. I've a lot to do before the store opens tomorrow. Stay as long as you like, boys, and finish those chestnuts while they're warm."
