Darkus felt his face getting hot for a second time. ‘Thanks. I wouldn’t have thought of releasing the birds if you hadn’t said that thing about every creature having a predator.’
‘Ah, but you did think of it, and that made all the difference.’ Dr Ishikawa handed him the largest of the three cages. ‘For Baxter, to keep him safe in the jungle.’
‘Are you coming with us this time?’ Darkus asked.
Dr Ishikawa shook his head. ‘There is great need for my work here. I can do the most good disarming Lucy Johnstone’s foot soldiers, her transgenic beetles. So here I must stay.’
‘You have to help this time.’ Darkus stepped closer to Dr Ishikawa. ‘Please. We don’t know what we’ll find out there. We’ll be hopelessly outnumbered.’ His voice was strained and he found himself blinking back tears. ‘I don’t know how to fight her,’ he admitted.
Dr Ishikawa gave a little shrug. ‘Then, perhaps, you shouldn’t.’
Darkus gave an exasperated sigh. Why did Dr Ishikawa always speak in riddles.
‘You are the Beetle Boy.’ Dr Yuki Ishikawa fixed Darkus with his eyes as dark and calm as underground pools. ‘Only you know what that means.’ He touched his finger to Darkus’s forehead. ‘Think.’ He paused. ‘Be a scientist. Observe. Be curious. Ask questions.’ He moved his finger and pointed to Darkus’s heart. ‘Do what you feel is right.’ A broad smile spread across his face, as if he’d solved a complicated puzzle, and he nodded. ‘Yes. The Beetle Boy must do what he feels to be right.’
CHAPTER TEN
Novak’s Nightmare
Novak sat up, her breath snatched in stunted gasps. She was on the floor of the dimly lit white cell, in her bed, with the covers thrown off. She’d had the dream again. Closing her eyes, she pressed her hand to her heart. She pictured it beating inside her chest, willing it to slow down. It was her heart, it belonged to her, and it needn’t beat so fearfully or so fast. She was going to protect it with the same passion with which it pumped blood around her body.
Her carefully drawn breaths calmed her racing heartbeat, and Novak thought about the air she was breathing in. Humans needed to breathe air into their lungs, to oxygenate their blood, and while she drew breath, she was still human.
In the dream, her eyes had filled with darkness, becoming black. Her senses had spiked and every hair on her body had risen up, communicating information to her about her surroundings. Novak was frightened of her beetle senses. She tried to block them out and ignore them. She didn’t want to be like Mater. She’d rather die.
Looking down at her black chitinous shins and clawed feet, Novak pulled her knees into her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs so that she didn’t have to see them. She’d give anything to be a normal girl. To turn back time, to before she’d been put in the pupator. She should have run away, but she never could have imagined what they were going to do to her.
She rested her chin on her knees and looked down at the chunky silver bracelet on her right wrist. She whispered to the turquoise stone in its raised silver setting. ‘Heppy, are you awake?’ The setting swung open on a hinge, revealing a beautiful rainbow-striped jewel beetle.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, Hepburn, did I disturb you?’
The jewel beetle lifted her elytra and stretched out her wings before folding them away and clambering up on to Novak’s kneecap.
‘I’m frightened, Heppy,’ Novak whispered. ‘I don’t want to go in the pupator again. We have to get out of here.’
The jewel beetle nuzzled her beautiful bobble of a head against Novak’s chin.
Novak smiled. ‘Ah, thank you, little one.’ She lifted a finger and stroked it gently down Hepburn’s back. ‘I love you too. Right now, you are the only friend I have.’
She thought about Darkus. He’d promised to take her home, just before her mother had grabbed her, wrenching her away from him and from any hope of safety. She knew that Darkus kept his promises – he’d be looking for her, trying to find a way to get to her – but no one could find her here. The Amazon jungle was an enormous place. Novak knew that Darkus wasn’t coming to rescue her this time, and he may not even want to. After all, his father had betrayed him, choosing to be with Mater rather than his own son.
Novak clenched her teeth. She hated Bartholomew Cuttle for what he had done to Darkus. Her mother was cruel to her, but at least she’d never pretended to be kind and caring. She’d never pretended to love Novak.
Novak lifted Hepburn off her knee and stretched her legs out in front of her, looking at her clawed feet. Darkus had said he thought they were awesome. He’d asked if she could walk up walls. She hadn’t known the answer until she tried, and found she could. Her feet were made of two strong outer claws that tapered off into sharp points, and between the claws was a knife-like blade so sharp it had sliced open Ling Ling’s cheek. Novak had never tested what her body was capable of – she’d spent all her energy hiding the changes caused by the pupation, even from Gerard. She had bound her feet and worn thick tights to cover her black shins. But here, now, in this cell, she was helpless, and the only tools she had that might help her escape a second pupation were those she possessed because of her beetle genes.
She got to her feet, standing up on her claws, holding Hepburn in her cupped hands. ‘You have to help me, Heppy,’ she whispered. ‘I need to find out who I really am.’
Hepburn fluttered her wings, lifting off Novak’s hands and hovering in front of her face. She waggled her front legs in a gesture of encouragement, and Novak laughed.
‘OK, OK.’ Novak rolled her chin down to her chest, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She parted her thick silver hair at the nape of her neck and teased out first one, then a second black feathered antenna, which rose up, curling out of the top of her head like two feathered fans. She concentrated on her breathing, placing her thoughts in her skin, where each hair was standing to attention. She felt her eyes roll back in her head and fill with darkness.
This wasn’t a dream. She was making this happen.
The fine silver hairs on her body shivered. The world outside the triangular walls of her white cell came into her consciousness as a series of sounds, smells and obstacles. She sensed a man with rasping breath and strong body odour sitting on a chair outside the cell.
‘Dankish,’ Novak whispered. ‘I can see him.’
She lifted her head and clenched her fists. She needed to test how her human muscles and chitinous feet worked together. She spun round and ran at the wall, managing to get both claws up before she fell to the floor, hitting her elbows hard.
‘Ouch!’ She got up and walked back to the opposite wall – as far away as she could get in the small cell – and tried again. This time she ran up the wall diagonally, gouging great scratches into the plaster. Feeling the strength in her feet, she slowed, strolling into the centre of the ceiling and hung upside down, like a bat. Her claws were incredibly powerful and easily able to take her weight.
Her silver hair hung down and her black flagellate antennae flicked and fanned, sensing the world around her. Her beetle eyes picked up more detail in the dimly lit room than her human eyes ever could. Everything around her, even the air, was more visceral.
Hepburn flitted up, hovering in front of her face then dancing about. Novak smiled at the beetle’s delight.
‘Look, Hepburn,’ she said. ‘We’re sisters.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Scud
‘Oi, Crips,’ Novak heard Dankish growl, ‘what you got there?’
‘Food, for the girl.’
‘Hepburn, quick.’ Novak pushed against the ceiling, letting go with her clawed feet. Somersaulting in the air, she landed in a kneeling position, one knee up, her arms out. She held out her wrist, with the bracelet compartment open. Hepburn zoomed down and dropped, clumsily, into the hidden chamber. Novak snapped it shut, then flattened her antennae down, back over her head, tucking the furled ends neatly into the nape of her neck. She ran her fingers through her hair, covering t
he feathered feelers with her silver locks. Tipping her head to her chest, she rolled her beetle eyes back down, seeing with her human eyes once more. Sitting down cross-legged, she grabbed the blanket and covered her knees, doing her best to look meek and scared.
There was a timid knock at the door. It opened to reveal a young man in a white lab coat. He smiled and shuffled in, carrying a tray. The lights turned up as he entered.
‘Hello, I’m Spencer,’ he said, blinking at her through rectangular glasses. ‘I, um, I brought you some food.’ He looked down at the tray. It held a plate covered by a silver dome and a glass of water.
‘Thank you. You can put it down there.’ Novak watched, amused, as Spencer clumsily laid the tray on the floor, knocking the silver dome off the plate of melon and banana slices, apologizing profusely as he replaced it.
‘I’m Novak,’ she said.
‘Oh, yes, I know. I mean . . .’ He straightened up. ‘Your mother, she—’
‘I don’t have a mother,’ Novak cut him off. ‘Would a mother treat a daughter like this?’ She gestured to the cell.
‘Err, no, I, ah suppose, not . . . I mean, my mother wouldn’t.’
A small black frog-like face popped up out of Spencer’s top pocket, with two shining beady eyes either side of a ridged armour-plated head.
‘Oh!’ Novak clapped her hands together. ‘You have a beetle!’
‘Scud!’ Spencer chided. ‘You’re supposed to stay hidden.’
‘No, it’s OK. I love beetles.’ Novak knelt up. ‘Hello – Scud, is that his name?’
‘Yes, Scud, like the missile. It’s funny, because, well, you know,’ Spencer chuckled, ‘he’s a dung beetle.’ Novak frowned, not understanding the joke, and Spencer blushed. ‘Oh, I see you have a little friend too!’ He nodded at Novak’s bracelet.
She looked down. The bracelet was open and Hepburn was excitedly clambering out. Once her abdomen was free of the case, she flipped up her elytra and flew straight to Spencer, landing on his nose and clambering in circles, stopping to kiss him every few seconds.
‘Hepburn!’ Novak exclaimed. ‘What are you doing?’
‘She’s a very friendly Cyphogastra javanica,’ Spencer laughed, gently lifting Hepburn from his nose and peering through his glasses at her. ‘No! It can’t be.’ He became agitated. ‘Where did you get this beetle?’
‘Why?’
‘I know her.’ He examined Hepburn from all angles while she appeared to hug his thumb. ‘But I haven’t seen her for nearly five years.’
Novak got to her feet. ‘How do you know she’s the same beetle?’
‘Are you kidding? I’d never forget her. Look at how beautiful she is!’ Spencer chuckled as Hepburn strutted backwards and forwards across his hand like a model on a catwalk. ‘And she knows it.’
Novak’s pulse quickened. ‘Then you must know Darkus Cuttle?’
‘Dr Bartholomew Cuttle’s son? No.’ Spencer shook his head. ‘Should I?’
‘But Darkus brought Hepburn to me. She came from Beetle Mountain.’
‘Beetle Mountain? What’s that?’
‘Darkus is the guardian of the beetles from Beetle
Mountain. It’s this amazing place built out of teacups filled with lots of different species of intelligent beetles. Or at least it was . . .’ Novak’s voice petered out as she remembered that Mater had burnt it to the ground.
‘Lots of different species?’
‘Yes, and Darkus has a beetle friend too, a rhinoceros beetle, called Baxter.’
‘The beetles survived?’ Spencer exclaimed.
There was a bang on the door. ‘What’s going on in there?’ Dankish grunted.
‘Just a minute,’ Spencer called out, and then his voice dropped to an excited whisper. ‘This is incredible! When I set the beetles free, I wasn’t sure they’d be able to cope out in the world, but I couldn’t leave them there.’
‘What do you mean, you set them free?’ Novak asked.
‘The intelligent beetles – Scud here, and Hepburn – they were bred in Lucretia Cutter’s laboratory. They carry human DNA. Dr Cuttle’s DNA, to be precise.’ He pushed his rectangular glasses up his nose. ‘Their life in captivity was cruel. They wanted to be free.’ He shrugged. ‘So, one day, I smuggled them out of the lab, in one of Mum’s cake tins, and let them go.’
‘You did! Oh, how brave!’ Novak clasped her hands to her chest. ‘Wasn’t Mater angry?’
‘Furious.’ Spencer nodded. ‘When she realized what I’d done, she sent her goons.’ He pointed to the cell door. ‘They grabbed me and put a funny-smelling cloth over my mouth – I passed out. When I woke up I was trapped here, in the Biome, and made to look after the insect farms downstairs, supplying healthy specimens for her experiments.’
‘You’re a slave?’ Novak gasped.
‘The work’s not bad. I quite like it, actually.’ Spencer smiled weakly. ‘But I miss my mum, and I worry about her. She doesn’t know where I am.’ He sighed. ‘At least the beetles got away. I’ve always wondered what happened to them.’ His expression brightened. ‘And if Dr Cuttle’s son is looking after them, then I know they are in good hands. They must have bred if there’s enough of them to fill a mountain. I hope I get to see it one day.’
Novak thought it best not to tell Spencer what had happened to the mountain. ‘Thank you for bringing me food,’ she said, lifting the silver dome. ‘I’m starving.’
‘That’s OK.’ Spencer said, shuffling backwards. Novak noticed he was clenching and unclenching his fists. ‘Um. And. It will probably be your last meal for a while.’
‘Oh?’ Novak looked at him.
‘Lucretia Cutter has scheduled your pupation for the day after tomorrow. You must be nil by mouth for at least twenty-four hours before you step into the machine.’
‘I see.’ Novak looked up at him. ‘Don’t suppose you have a cake tin you can smuggle me out in?’
Spencer swallowed and shook his head. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispered.
‘C’mon, Crips!’ Dankish shouted. ‘I don’t want to get into trouble.’
‘Don’t be sad for me, Spencer.’ Novak reached up and stroked his cheek. ‘She bred me for this, but I would rather die than be put in the pupator again.’
Spencer’s chin sank to his chest and Novak thought he was about to cry, but instead he whispered:
‘If I can help you, I will. I promise.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Astronomical Clock
Uncle Max marched them swiftly into the Old Town Square, weaving through the market of Christmas-themed stalls. ‘You can’t come to Prague and not see this!’ He waved his arms at the mint-green, honeycomb-yellow and dove-grey buildings. They looked like pictures Darkus had seen on chocolate boxes. ‘And that is the oldest working astronomical clock in the world! Isn’t it a thing of beauty?’
Darkus looked up at the enormous clockwork timepiece on the wall of the Town Hall. It was constructed of bronze cogs, gold symbols and had moving celestial orbs on the clock hands. A bell sounded, and a skeleton – the figure of death – struck the hour. Each chime reverberated in his chest like a final heartbeat. Twelve apostles presented themselves at the top of the clock, but Darkus turned away. He couldn’t watch. Time wasn’t on his side: the whole world was looking for his dad and Lucretia Cutter, and when they found them they were going to send bombs.
Uncle Max shepherded them across the Charles Bridge at a fierce pace. ‘Construction of this bridge began in 1357 during the reign of King Charles IV.’ He pointed at the castle. ‘That is the largest and one of the most incredible castles in the world,’ he said, hurrying them on to a bus. ‘Such a pity we don’t have time to see it.’
Darkus had never been to a city that looked more like a place of fairy tales. He stared at the castle as the bus pulled away. If this was a fairy tale, he thought, I should be the hero. His heart sank: he’d never felt less heroic.
He looked at Baxter sitting proudly on his shoulder and felt like a fra
ud. None of the entomologists were coming with them to the Amazon. Not one. They all had to go back to their own countries and fight the beetle attacks. Everyone seemed to think that because he’d driven Lucretia Cutter away at the Film Awards, he was more than a match for her, but he knew that wasn’t true. She was monstrous, and freeing the birds had been a spontaneous idea. He’d done nothing special. He’d been so confident the entomologists would help him, that they’d be coming with him to the Amazon, he hadn’t thought to feel afraid about the oncoming battle. But ever since the congress, fear had been gnawing at his insides.
Václav Havel airport was a short drive out of Prague city centre. Darkus, Virginia and Bertolt followed Uncle Max into terminal three, a small concrete building for privately chartered flights. Gathering them around him, Uncle Max spoke in a low voice. ‘Motty’s on the other side of security, waiting beside Bernadette. We need to get the beetles past the security checks again, and then we’ll be able to head out to the plane.’
The three children nodded. They knew what to do. Uncle Max was loaded up with metal items, to send the detector machines crazy: a watch on each wrist, sock suspenders, a necklace, his belt, metal-tipped shoelaces, and loose change in every pocket imaginable. As the security men gathered around the bumbling apologetic Englishman, the beetles fluttered silently over their heads and the children skipped innocently through the machines.
Out on the tarmac, Bernadette was waiting for them, her staircase reaching out like a helping hand.
‘Hi, Motty!’ Virginia said, hopping into the co-pilot’s seat. ‘Need any help for take-off?’
Battle of the Beetles Page 6
