Meeting infiltrated by MAAM. All memories tweaked, and knowledge of the demon summoned by Hester Coin has been removed.
C.G. November 11, 1750.
“A demon?” Lucy said, staring at the faded handwriting. She suddenly felt cold all over.
“C.G.,” Bertie said. “Constance Grave. My great-great-grandmother wrote this note! MAAM must have stopped that meeting. I don’t understand the demon part, though. There’s no such thing as demons or devils.”
Lucy gazed thoughtfully at the note. “I’m not sure I believe in them either. But, Bertie, when Lord Grave was telling me about Hester Coin the other day, he said that she’d done something really bad, something he didn’t want to talk about. He looked scared. Maybe this explains why?”
Bertie stood up. “This is all ridiculous. Next you’ll be telling me that seances and table-turning and all that rot are genuine. I’m going to talk to Father and ask him what’s wrong; why he’s acting out of character. And about Hester Coin. As I’m a Grave, I’m sure he’ll tell me what she did.”
Lucy almost snapped at Bertie; she felt rather put out that he was implying she was less important than him. But this wasn’t the time to get into an argument, so she kept her annoyance to herself. “Let me come too. I could wait nearby, just in case.”
“In case of what? Lucy, he’s my father. I don’t need to be afraid of him. I think maybe he’s just a little anxious over the attacks and preparing for this ball and that’s why he’s acting strangely.’
“Well, let me come and wait for you anyway.”
“There’s no need, but come if you want to.”
When Bertie emerged from the drawing room where he’d been speaking to Lord Grave, Lucy was hovering anxiously outside.
“Everything’s fine,” Bertie said. He was smiling and his eyes were shining, this time with happiness instead of tears. “He apologised for being rude to me. He says that he’s going to explain all about Hester Coin, but first he wants to show me something in Grave Village. He’s ordered the coach to be brought round, so we’ll be off shortly.”
“Did you ask about the demon?”
Bertie shook his head. “I don’t want to get Mr Paige into trouble for giving me that pamphlet. I’ll wait and see what Father tells me about Coin and then decide what to ask from there.”
“I wish I could come too!”
“So do I. But I’ll report back as soon as I can!”
Bertie returned to the drawing room and Lucy hurried off outside and round to the front of the house. Despite Bertie’s assurances, she still had a strong feeling that something was amiss. Luckily for her there were animal-shaped topiaries lining the gravelled drive and she ducked behind her favourite, which looked like a rhinoceros. A few moments later, Lord Grave’s coach arrived at the front door. The driver went inside the house, no doubt to let Lord Grave know the coach was ready.
Lucy wondered if she should get inside the coach and hide under the seat or whether she should shortcut herself to Grave Village, wait for Bertie and Lord Grave to arrive and then follow them. Shortcutting, one of Lucy’s particular talents, was a magical method of getting from place to place instantaneously, and seemed to be her best option in the current circumstances. But, before she could begin to open a shortcut, Lord Grave and Bertie came out of the house, dressed in their outdoor things. They were followed by the driver, who was looking very bemused.
“Are you sure you don’t need me, sir?”
“No. I want to drive myself. Now be off with you!”
Lord Grave climbed up on to the coach and began settling himself in the driver’s seat. Bertie remained standing on the gravel driveway, staring up at his father.
“Well, come on my … boy, get yourself up here beside me!”
Bertie hesitated for a few more seconds before obeying Lord Grave and joining him on top of the coach. As she watched all this from behind the rhinoceros, it suddenly occurred to Lucy that Lord Grave might not take Bertie to Grave Village at all. He could have been lying about the planned destination. If she shortcut to Grave Village and the two of them didn’t turn up, she would have no way of knowing where they were.
Following them in a non-magical manner was a much better idea. Of course, she’d never be able to keep up with the coach if she went on foot, so she’d have to hitch a ride! She made a dash for the rear of the coach. She tried to move lightly and not make too much noise in case Lord Grave heard, but even so, her feet crunched on the gravel. Luckily, a loud neigh from one of the horses covered the sound.
There was a plate fixed to the back of the coach, designed for a footman to stand on, with two handles above it and to either side. Lucy grabbed these and hauled herself up. As Bertie and Lord Grave were facing in the opposite direction and were sitting high up, she was fairly sure they wouldn’t spot her.
“Gee up!” Lord Grave called, jangling the horses’ reins. The coach lurched off down the driveway.
Lucy peered over her shoulder to check she hadn’t been spotted. At first she thought there was no one in sight. But then something orange and furry came hurtling from round the side of the house and bounded towards the coach before leaping into the air. Smell landed neatly on Lucy’s shoulder.
“Thought you could do with an escort, Luce,” he said. “Don’t want you getting in no trouble.”
Lucy hung grimly on to the back of the carriage as it rattled and jogged down the last few metres of the long driveway. She was already beginning to regret not using a shortcut as well as not having had time to put on her cloak. This regret grew stronger when the coach emerged from the driveway and headed towards Grave Village. Last night’s heavy rainfall had turned the rough dirt road to mud, which the carriage wheels churned up and sprayed all over Lucy. Very soon, she resembled one of Busby’s chocolate-covered gingerbread men. Smell managed to avoid most of the mucky deluge as he had crept underneath Lucy’s jacket.
After what seemed like a very, very long time, the carriage began to slow as it approached Grave Village. It jerked to a stop to let a ragged woman and her brood of equally ragged children cross in front of it. Lucy took the opportunity to jump off. The carriage then continued for a short distance until it reached The Grave’s End inn, where a groom rushed out and took the horses’ reins. Lord Grave and Bertie disembarked and began to walk away.
Smell wriggled out from under Lucy’s jacket and on to her shoulder. As there were lots of people milling around he was careful to make sure no one saw or heard him speaking. He put his mouth close to Lucy’s ear. “Where are they off to, then?” he asked.
Lucy spat out the mud that had seeped into her mouth. “Not sure,” she muttered. “Let’s follow them and see.”
Smell jumped down from Lucy’s shoulder and trotted at her heels as she set off after Lord Grave and Bertie. As it was a market day, the narrow road that ran through Grave Village was lined with stalls, making it hard for people to walk more than two abreast. This was actually a help to Lucy as it meant she could keep close enough to Lord Grave and Bertie to follow them but they didn’t see her because of the crowds. Lucy tried to look casual as she ducked and dived through the throng, but she drew a few amused glances from the people she passed, no doubt thanks to her mud-encrusted state. There were a few annoyed glances too, as some people’s clothes were smeared with mud when Lucy squeezed between them.
To her surprise, it shortly became clear that Lord Grave and Bertie were heading for the alleyway where she and Violet had been attacked. She and Smell sneaked after them. Lord Grave paused at the entrance to the alleyway and looked over his shoulder, as though to check no one was watching. Lucy swiftly spun round and pretended to be choosing a pie from a nearby stall. After a few seconds she turned back, in time to see Lord Grave and Bertie step into the alleyway.
“We gonna follow ’em?” Smell whispered. “Or we could ’ave a bite to eat first? ’Obson’s ’Ot Pies are the best, you know.”
Lucy’s heart thumped hard at the prospect of going back into
the alleyway where she and Violet had been attacked. What if the boy was there with his knife?
“Luce?” Smell said.
Lucy took a few deep breaths to steady her nerves. If they were going to follow Lord Grave and Bertie they had to do it now, otherwise they might lose track of them. “Forget your stomach for once. We’re going after them now.”
Lucy and Smell pushed their way through the crowds and towards the alley. Lucy tried to put all thoughts of boys with knives out of her mind. She and Smell carefully maintained their distance from Lord Grave and Bertie, and kept close to the wall where dark shadows lurked, providing useful cover.
Halfway down the alley, Lord Grave and Bertie stopped. Lord Grave dug something out of his pocket. Lucy couldn’t make out what it was because the light in the alley was so dim.
“It’s a lump of chalk,” whispered Smell helpfully. His eyesight was of course better than a human’s.
Lord Grave began chalking on the left-hand wall of the alleyway. He drew a door-sized rectangle on the red brick, even adding a doorknob. Then he muttered some words that Lucy didn’t quite catch.
Almost immediately, the chalk outline Lord Grave had drawn began to glow and pulse, filling the alleyway with an eerie green light. After a few seconds the light faded. The chalk outline had been replaced by a real door set into the alleyway wall. Bertie gingerly touched it, as though testing whether it was real or not. The door swung inwards. Bertie stepped back.
“He doesn’t want to go inside,” Lucy whispered.
Lord Grave spoke to Bertie and put his hand on his shoulder,
“Did you hear that?” Lucy asked Smell.
“Couldn’t make it out.”
Whatever Lord Grave had said must have reassured Bertie. The two of them stepped through the mysterious door.
“Quick!” Lucy said. She and Smell raced towards the door. But they weren’t quite swift enough – the door was swinging closed. Lucy shoved against it, but it was made of brick and very heavy, so she failed to stop it shutting. The glowing outline remained, but was already dulling. Was there still a chance of reopening it?
“Did you hear what Lord Grave said to make it open?” she asked Smell.
“This is where my cat nature comes in useful, Luce. My ’earing’s sharper than a—”
“Hurry!” Lucy snapped. “The door’s fading!” If the outline vanished, they’d never be able to get through.
Smell made a little coughing noise and began to sing in a gruff voice: “My mask it worked, my mask it worked, I ’id myself from ’im.”
Lucy frowned. The tune and the words Smell was singing reminded her of something, but she couldn’t quite work out what. In any case, the door swung open again. The two of them stepped cautiously through it. Smell’s tail took on the appearance of a bottlebrush, as cats’ tails do when they are afraid or anxious. Lucy thought that if she were a cat her tail would have done the same. Her fear grew when the door closed behind them and the green glow abruptly snuffed itself out, leaving her and Smell in darkness so intense it was as though it was pressing against her eyes.
“Smell, can you see where we are?” Lucy said, trying not to panic at the thought that they might be trapped forever in the deep dark of this unknown place.
“Just about. We’re at the top of a flight of stone stairs. There’s a metal ’andrail on your right. Grab that and feel your way down with your ’ind paws. Feet, I mean.”
Lucy did as Smell said. The metal felt cold and rough with rust under her hand. Her knuckles brushed against the damp, slimy wall the rail was attached to. There was the slow sound of dripping water coming from somewhere nearby. Moving very warily, not wanting to trip and fall down a stone staircase, Lucy shuffled to the edge of each tread and then down to the next. At about the halfway point progress grew easier as the gloom seemed to lift a little and Lucy could dimly see the outline of the stairs below.
“We’re nearly at the bottom now,” said Smell. “There’s light ahead.”
Smell was right. At the foot of the stairs was a tunnel, with torches burning along the walls. These threw flickering light and long shadows up to where Lucy and Smell were now standing. Voices came faintly from the far end of the passage.
“Can you hear what they’re saying?” Lucy whispered.
Smell flicked his ears back and forth. “Not quite.”
“We’d better move closer in, then.” Lucy nervously eyed the tunnel.
“I dunno. I don’t like the smell of this place. Reeks of bad magic to me. Can we get out of ’ere?”
“We can’t go back now. We have to find out where Lord Grave and Bertie have gone. There’s something very wrong here. They might be in terrible danger. What if there’s a demon down here?”
“A demon? What do you mean?”
“I’ll explain another time.”
Smell swished his tail. “Let’s get on with it, then.”
The two of them made their way down the last few steps and then set off along the tunnel. Smell kept close to Lucy’s side, his tail brushing her legs. Halfway along the passage the voices grew clearer, and three quarters of the way along Lucy was able to glimpse the room that lay beyond. What she saw astounded her.
“Look Smell, there’s Lord Grave and Bertie. And Becky’s with them! Why?”
“Keep yer voice down, Luce! We should stop ’ere for now. Watch and see what ’appens.”
There was an untidy brown-and-white dog sitting next to Lord Grave, who was stroking its head with great affection, the way he normally stroked Bathsheba. As well as Bertie and Becky there were three other children in the room: a girl and a boy, whose matching black hair and round faces suggested they were brother and sister, and another boy. Lucy recognised him as the one who’d attacked her and Violet in the alley.
“I still don’t understand, Father. Why have you brought me here? Who are these people? Why is Becky here? And what are those things on the wall?” Bertie was saying. The “things on the wall” were out of Lucy’s line of sight, but, whatever they were, Bertie looked and sounded terrified of them.
“Dear Bertie, my beloved, dearest son,” Lord Grave said. “This will come as a terrible shock to you, but I’m not actually your father.”
“What do you mean?” Bertie began backing away from Lord Grave.
“We’d all like to know that!” Smell said softly. “Summat very fishy’s going on ’ere.”
Bertie suddenly turned and made a run for the tunnel.
“Becky, Tobias, get him!” Lord Grave ordered.
Becky and the boy from the alley leaped on Bertie and grabbed his arms. He struggled to free himself but Becky seized him by the hair, while Tobias twisted one of his wrists behind his back. Bertie’s cries of pain echoed around the cavernous room.
Lucy tensed, preparing to race into the room beyond and help him.
“Luce, no! Stay ’ere,” Smell whispered.
“But they’re hurting him!”
“Shh! There’s more of them than us. Let’s wait and see what ’appens.”
“I don’t understand, Father. Why are you letting them do this to me?” Bertie was asking Lord Grave.
“Shut up and watch,” Lord Grave said. He removed his top hat, dropping it carelessly to the floor. Then he began pinching his forehead, at the part where the skin met his greying hair. He tugged at it and began to peel it away, pulling it downwards. Lucy’s mouth went dry. Smell started growling. Bertie had stopped struggling against Becky and Tobias and was watching in shocked silence.
Lord Grave continued peeling his face off, easing the rubbery pink mass over his nose and down towards his mouth. Another face beneath began to be revealed. When the mask was finally pulled off, Lord Grave’s body began to change too, becoming shorter and thinner. His clothes bubbled as though they were melting, before reforming into a purple velvet pinafore dress and white lace blouse.
Lord Grave was no more. In his place stood a tall blonde girl. Lucy recognised her at once and immediately unders
tood why the song Smell had repeated seemed so familiar. The girl was the violinist from Grave Village.
Even if she’d known nothing about the magical world, Lucy would have understood that the magic the violin girl had used to transform herself into Lord Grave was something wicked and forbidden. Smell had been right. Whatever was going on here was bad, bad magic. Lucy’s instincts screamed at her to turn and flee, to get as far away as she possibly could, to save herself. But she couldn’t leave Bertie alone with these people. And where was the real Lord Grave?
“Smell,” she whispered. “What are we going to do?”
But before Smell could reply, a mouse skittered out in front of them.
“No, no. Ignore it!” Lucy whispered, fearing that some sort of mouse-related disaster was about to unfold.
But the only thing Smell ignored was Lucy’s command. His cat nature came to the fore as he lunged at the mouse, claws unsheathed. The little creature evaded him, however, and ran behind Lucy. Smell whipped between Lucy’s ankles and somehow the two of them got all tangled up. Lucy lost her balance and crashed to the ground. She automatically put out her right hand to save herself, but instead managed to pin Smell’s tail against the damp stone floor. Smell yowled in pain.
“Someone’s out there in the tunnel!” the violin girl shouted. She pelted towards Lucy and Smell, the dog at her heels. The girl threw herself on to Lucy, kneeled on her chest and pinned her arms either side of her head.
Lucy squirmed and fought. Although her opponent was older and stronger, Lucy managed to free one of her arms and weakly punched the girl in the side of the head. The girl laughed at Lucy’s fruitless effort to hurt her. By now, the black-haired brother and sister had come running. They helped the violin girl haul Lucy to her feet and began dragging her along the tunnel towards the gang’s lair. Determined not to go quietly, Lucy kicked and fought with every step. Meanwhile Smell and the hairy dog were having a standoff. The dog was circling Smell, snapping its jaws, but clearly reluctant to get involved with the cat’s claws and teeth.
Goodly and Grave in a Case of Bad Magic Page 8
