The Last Chance Hotel

by Nicki Thornton

  The gold coin he had been given by Dr Thallomius. She tossed it to Kingfisher.

  ‘What’s this?’ he demanded.

  ‘Tips,’ replied Seth sullenly. He felt sweat prickling uncomfortably at the back of his neck.

  ‘A gold coin as a tip for the saucepan scrubber?’ scoffed Tiffany.

  ‘It was from Dr Thallomius,’ said Seth quietly. ‘For taking him tea.’

  Mrs Bunn snatched the coin from Kingfisher and examined it closely. ‘This is a gold coin. Have you any idea how much it’s worth? A gold coin? For taking tea?’ Her eyes narrowed, making her pointy face look full of spite.

  Kingfisher took back the coin and rolled it in his fingers and turned to Pewter. ‘Seth never stops lying does he?’

  Seth looked at Tiffany and could see a slow trickle of dark scarlet blood running from a short horizontal cut on her cheek. He wondered where that had come from.

  He focused on inching towards the black book. If anyone saw that picture of a firefly cage, he’d be in trouble. Who would believe him that he knew nothing about magic and that he had never even heard of Dr Thallomius?

  ‘You do all know what this is?’ said Tiffany sweetly, taking back the coin. ‘I’m afraid it looks like Seth stole this from Dr Thallomius. He must have stolen the coin and knew Dr Thallomius was going to expose him as a thief. Do you know what we have here?’ Her eyes were full of an exultant fire, her smile wide as she barked her hateful laugh. ‘Now we know why Seth killed Dr Thallomius! To stop him accusing Seth of stealing.’

  ‘I didn’t steal it.’

  He had to get to that black book before anyone read it.

  But Tiffany caught on to what Seth was doing and as he moved to pick it up, she lunged, just beating Seth to it.

  ‘And what have we here?’ she scoffed, snatching up the very tatty-looking black book only held together with its scarlet thread.

  As she’d reached forward, Seth noticed that the back of her hand was scored with long parallel scratches, glistening with tiny droplets of blood that matched the cut on her face. It looked like she had been in a fight. . . and there was only one opponent Seth knew would leave long scratches like that.

  He felt his insides boiling with rage. ‘What have you done to my cat?’ he said through gritted teeth, almost throwing himself across the room to wrestle the truth from her.

  But she’d already started flicking through the book. Her eyes lit up with exultant glee and she started to read out some of the worst of the weird hand-written notes and scribbles. And it must be completely obvious to everyone listening what Seth wished he’d noticed right away – that the notebook contained notes about sinister magic.

  ‘Ooh, what do we have here, this looks fascinating, a picture of something called a firefly cage. I thought that was very nasty magic indeed, Seppi – what have you got to say about that?’

  The look on her face told Seth everything he needed to know about just how much she was enjoying this.

  ‘A firefly cage?’ Kingfisher raised his eyebrows and took a look at the book.

  ‘What have you done to my cat?’ Seth yelled again.

  Tiffany’s dazzling blue eyes narrowed. ‘Oh don’t worry. I dealt with her. That manky creature won’t be giving you a reason to steal from the kitchens any more, Seppi.’

  ‘What other artefacts of sinister magic have you been hiding? Empty your pockets,’ demanded Kingfisher.

  Seth’s tunic had a lot of pockets. He had leather pouches where he gathered herbs when he saw them growing in the garden. He laid these on the table alongside a ball of string, a paperknife and a tiny torch. And a potato peeler. He’d forgotten he’d put that there. And an awful lot of mushrooms. But then his fingers were fumbling in one of his deepest pockets and found something so curious he didn’t even know what it was.

  He drew out an object and frowned at it, until he recalled where it had come from. It was that weird nut which Professor Papperspook had told him had dropped on to her from the shrubbery.

  As he held it now, his fingers found something unexpected. It had a lid. A disguised bottle made out of a nut, he thought, even more fascinating.

  He handed it over and watched as Kingfisher peered at it and removed the lid.

  The aroma released took Seth immediately to that awful moment the night before in the dining room, watching the tragedy of Dr Thallomius’s death unfold. The circle of shocked faces surrounding the figure lying on the floor. And that smell. The smell he now associated with death.

  Professor Papperspook had given the disguised bottle to him. Now he understood why she had winked at him like that when she told him to dispose of it more carefully.

  Professor Papperspook thought he was the one who’d thrown it out of the window and it had got caught in the shrubbery. She had been trying to help him cover it up.

  Seth opened his mouth to say something to defend himself, but no words came. The determined glint in Kingfisher’s eye told Seth that Kingfisher had also worked out exactly what it was. But before either of them could speak a shaft of light shot out of the book, so blinding that it forced Seth to look away.

  It disappeared as suddenly as it had arrived, like the brightest torch beam switched on and off again. But Seth could just about make out something still glowing, a gleaming imprint on the book’s spine where it had been blank before.

  Kingfisher dropped the book and Angelique moved quickly across to seize it and put her nose close enough to read, ‘It says “Wich Wracht”.’

  She looked at Seth searchingly. But he had no answer, no idea what it meant and as she said the words there came an echo, low and hissed that seemed to leak out of the walls, making the whole room vibrate and rumble. Wich Wracht.

  ‘What was that?’ asked Tiffany, her eyes shifting about her, wide with alarm.

  Now everyone looked towards Seth, who could only mutter that he had absolutely no idea.

  Tiffany sped to snatch the book back from Angelique, taking her by surprise and, dodging out of Angelique’s way, quickly turned the pages. Then her eyes lit up triumphantly.

  ‘Well, well, well, this is most exciting. A recipe for – what’s this? Apricot delice, Seppi? Don’t tell me this is the book you got that recipe from? No wonder Dr Thallomius dropped down dead the minute he ate it. And just think, Seppi, you tried to put the blame on me.’

  37. Someone with Serious Magic

  Seth sat on the upturned bucket. He was locked in the cupboard again. He drew his hands through his unruly hair. This was it, then. What chance did he have of ever clearing his name? And what exactly had happened to Nightshade?

  He felt sick. He looked so guilty. Kingfisher could really not be far now from getting his wish of taking Seth away from here in handcuffs. Surely he was never going to convince anyone it was all just a series of misunderstandings and that he really wasn’t guilty of anything.

  What was he going to do?

  The only thing he could cling on to was the fact that he hadn’t done it. Someone else had. He had to work out who it was and prove it.

  Did he have answers? He really should have by now. But did it really matter anyway, he thought despairingly, because how on earth could Seth prove anything now from the wrong side of the cupboard door?

  He’d listened to everyone. His mind was still on Mr Bunn and how had he found a way to do such impressive magic, because that was still a mystery. Angelique had told him right from the start he had answers. He needed answers right now and he was already out of time. Think, Seth. Think.

  He heard muffled footsteps passing through the lobby. Nightshade? Seth put his ear to the door, hoping for the sound of a friendly voice, a sign that his cat was all right. He took comfort at least in knowing Nightshade was pretty good at taking care of herself.

  He caught the drift of a conversation between Tiffany and her mother as they passed through the lobby.

  ‘Dad is magic,’ Tiffany was saying, Seth could picture her porcelain face creased in a determined frown, ‘And
no one thought to tell me.’

  ‘Your father’s not magic, sweet pea.’

  ‘Do you never think? Did no one think I might want to become magic?’ Tiffany was breathing hard. ‘I mean – are you really that stupid?’

  ‘Honestly, sweetness, there is nothing to tell. It’s not possible, sugar pie.’

  They drifted off and Seth was left thinking that he wasn’t surprised Tiffany was angry. From the first moment Seth had learnt that Mr Bunn somehow had the ability to bring Henri’s wooden figures to life, he had wondered what Tiffany would do when she found out. If there was any magic around here, Tiffany would definitely think it should be hers.

  At the root of everything was magic. Pewter had suggested that someone seriously skilled at magic had tricked their way into the Prospect. Someone with a plan. Someone who could get past charmed doors.

  Angelique had told him there was magic already here at the hotel. Distorted magic. Magic she didn’t understand, she’d called it. She’d told Seth the mystery had started long before Dr Thallomius got here. So what was the answer?

  Mr Bunn had found a way to get those figures to come to life. Was it really that Mr Bunn had done incredible magic? Or was it just a trick? Or an accident? It had certainly convinced Angelique.

  None of it made sense. But he had to make sense of it.

  Pewter was convinced Dr Thallomius hadn’t come to the Last Chance Hotel just to look at the latest candidates for recruitment and that it was all about something else, some crazy idea that Thallomius had a secret agenda. Pewter was certain that tiny piece of magical bone on top of the wardrobe was the breakthrough clue to the whole mystery.

  Seth tugged his hands through his hair again. Could that really fit in anywhere? Sometimes Pewter seemed to be eccentrically lost in his own ideas, sometimes Seth doubted he was any good as an inspector at all.

  Who could have done it? Who possessed a level of magical ability that meant they were capable of getting into the dining room? That’s what it really came down to.

  Who here was truly magical?

  Had he seen anyone doing magic? Serious magic. Think, Seth.

  At that very moment things crystallized like a blurred picture coming into focus.

  He’d seen jets of fierce blue light zapping out of the end of her cane. He’d known from the start when she’d been flashing about using that dangerous cane and pressed it right into his neck that she was doing magic.

  She’d pretended to be his friend and dragged Seth into keeping her secrets.

  How had Seth been so stupid? So trusting?

  It had stopped him seeing what he should have spotted right from the start. He knew exactly who was by far the most magical person here. There was one obvious person and it wasn’t Mr Bunn at all.

  It was so ridiculously obvious. It was Angelique.

  38. A Lesson in Slicing

  He couldn’t go to Kingfisher or Pewter without some evidence, not if he stood any chance of convincing them, because they were simply going to think he’d say anything, make up anything, just to save himself. How on earth was he going to outmanoeuvre Angelique? Could he get her to admit it all?

  He was busy brewing up all his resentment about just how she had played him along and tricked him, when a small voice outside the cupboard said, ‘Are you OK, Seth?’

  It was all he could do not to yell at Angelique right away.

  ‘I’m just fine. Looks like I’ll get my wish to get away from here. Take the blame for what someone else has been up to. It’s what I’m good at. Hope whoever really did it can live with that.’

  ‘You need to help me, Seth.’ Seth could hear her more clearly now. She must have moved closer to the door. It wasn’t the first time she’d asked for his help. But he simply wasn’t going to be duped any more.

  ‘This place is very old,’ she went on. ‘Seriously full of secrets. I’m getting closer, but I need to know everything. Seth?’

  ‘Why should I help you?’ he spluttered angrily. ‘You’ve lied to me and tricked me.’

  She paused. ‘I had no choice.’

  ‘I know what’s really going on, finally, Angelique,’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘How much have you been laughing at me?’

  There was a long silence.

  ‘Seth. I know things are difficult for you. But will you help me? It’s important,’ she breathed quietly. ‘There’s no one else.’

  ‘What can I do? I’m locked up. Anyway, I don’t want to help you. You are on your own and can’t use me in your plans any more.’

  ‘N-not help me?’ she spluttered. ‘But I want to help you.’

  ‘I wouldn’t help the person who murdered Dr Thallomius, not for anything.’

  He hadn’t meant to say it, but it was out there now. There was such a long silence, Seth thought he’d completely blown it and she’d gone away. He’d meant to be so wily and careful and get her to talk and cursed himself for letting his anger get the better of him.

  But at the end of the long silence she said, ‘It is so difficult to know where to begin,’ whispering so low he could barely hear. ‘But the fact he’s dead,’ he heard she was sniffing, ‘you’re right, it’s down to me.’

  She’d admitted it.

  Seth didn’t know why, but he didn’t feel in the least bit triumphant. And then he heard footsteps and she was gone. He was hardly any better off than he had been before.

  Who would ever believe him?

  It was a long time before he heard more footsteps. He put his ear to the door.

  ‘Ah. Look, young Fishfinger might have dropped this big old iron key. I wonder what it opens.’ There was the scratching sound of the door being unlocked. Seth blinked in the light of the lobby as he crept nervously out of the cupboard, and was staring up at the looming figure of Inspector Pewter.

  ‘Thought you might need to stretch your legs. Want to come see something? Help me? Just a dull task, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Was the key really right there?’ asked Seth.

  ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘You. . . you used magic?’

  ‘I might have used an unlocking spell. Simple, but effective. Doesn’t change the fact that using magic is not for performing tricks, young Seth. The path to magic is one of the most difficult, treacherous and dangerous you could choose to go down. Particularly in untrained hands, magic can be – well, we have a whole department who spend their time reattaching the ears of people who use magic without quite knowing what they are doing. And heads. Although, heads not so often. Thankfully people are usually pretty careful with their heads.’

  Seth followed Pewter up the uneven stairs, watching him duck where the ceiling got really low. ‘Might I suggest you concentrate less on magic and more on getting yourself out of this spot of trouble? Pretty good at that aren’t you, Mr Seppi, getting yourself into trouble.’

  ‘Spot of trouble,’ Seth laughed hollowly. ‘There’s so much evidence against me everyone thinks I did it, nothing’s going to make any difference. Can you . . . do you know if Nightshade is all right?’

  ‘That cat? Wasn’t too keen on Miss Bunn getting hold of that black book of yours.’

  ‘What has Tiffany done to her?’

  ‘Managed to shut her in a box. But not without a little damage to the fair skin of Miss Bunn. Nightshade was fine, once I found her and let her out. A little grumpy.’

  ‘Yes, she’s often like that. Thank you.’

  They arrived at one of the bedrooms that had stood empty.

  Pewter slipped inside without switching on the light and Seth followed him. Not for the first time, Seth had a sense that Pewter was in pursuit of some odd trail of his own.

  ‘Now, let’s see if we can’t finally solve this mystery between us. We are close!’

  Seth knew he had to find a way to convince Pewter of the extraordinary confession Angelique had just made to him, but he didn’t know where to begin.

  If he imagined himself saying the words, he only imagined Pewter laughing. She r
eally had played a clever game. It was taking a few moments for Seth’s eyes to adjust and he realized the room wasn’t quite empty. There was something moving in a dark corner. A grey mist was hovering.

  Seth tensed and went to grab at Pewter’s arm.

  Could this be the same grey shape Gloria Troutbean had seen? Was this the ghost of Dr Thallomius?

  But Pewter wasn’t concerned in the slightest and strode towards the small, shimmering, shivering ball of dull grey light suspended above the desk. Pewter peered curiously into its depths and Seth’s fear quickly gave way to curiosity.

  ‘I just need to tidy up some loose ends that will help my case.’

  ‘Your case against me?’

  Seth waited and hoped. It was impossible to ever know what Pewter was thinking, but somehow, from the start, when no one else seemed to believe Seth’s innocence, Pewter had seemed to see further and deeper and to be seeking something else.

  Pewter turned from the glowing globe to look at Seth with his blue eyes, bright even in the gloom. ‘You think I’ve asked for your help building your own case against you? You have to learn who you can trust, Seth,’ he said gently. ‘Some of us are only after the truth. Now, promise not to tell on me?’

  Seth felt a small stirring of hope inside him that all was not quite lost. If, even after the mountain of evidence against him, Pewter still thought there might be another answer, Seth still had a chance.

  As Seth’s eyes adjusted to the gloom he became mesmerized by the swirling mist. At its centre was a tiny pinprick of grey light, surrounded by a swirling sphere that grew both in size and intensity as he watched. Before he could even ask Pewter about it, it had reached the size of a small football.

  ‘What do you mean by tell on you, sir?’

  ‘Kingfisher sealed off all communications, quite rightly. This method is very discreet. Or would be, only you’ve got a truly rotten signal out here. I guess it might be all the trees. So I’ve had to leave it brewing up a stronger connection. And it would make my life much simpler if Kingfisher didn’t know about it, because parts of what I’m about to do may be ever-so-slightly illegal.’