‘Try to escape,’ muttered Jack into his chest so that only Janey, assisted by her BATS, would hear.
‘Why? They seem nice, and besides –'
‘They’re UNDEAD!’ he spat. ‘It’s all wrong up here, and we need to get out.’
Undead? What was he talking about? ‘Are you sure?’
‘Believe me, I know my deads – and they are UN.’
They emerged into the courtyard, where the prince led them in a stately procession across the cobbles as people shambled out from their rooms – dungeons, probably, judging by the state of them - to stare at the pair of infiltrators.
‘What about them?’ Janey smiled brightly at the nearest person about their own age. He looked strangely canine, rather like Jack, and rather than smiling back, he sniffed the air and frowned.
‘All of them,’ warned Jack under his breath. ‘Every single one. All undead. We should run for it.’
But Janey knew that they couldn’t – not because the castle-dwellers would stop them, although that might well be the case, but because she knew that someone else was here as well.
One of the shadows that she had seen running past the tunnel …
… she was pretty sure that it was Gideon Flynn.
Chapter 18 - The Pom Juice Equation
Before too long they arrived at an immense pair of double doors, screened with velvet curtains of such a rich red that Janey was reminded of the blood on the walls of the MRI room. Lord Viggo parted them, ducked his bald head and waited for the prince and his two unexpected guests to pass through.
A couple about her parents’ age were poring over a map spread across a banqueting table. ‘Stein-Stein!’ cried the woman as the trio approached.
‘Good morning, Mother, Father,’ said the prince, sounding rather embarrassed.
Janey suspected that if he wasn’t undead as Jack believed him to be, he would have been blushing to the tips of his ears at being called Stein-Stein in front of strangers. G-Mamma’s names definitely had that effect on her. And … undead? Could that really be? She stole a glance around the room beneath lowered eyelashes. It was certainly true that all of them were extremely pallid with dark shadows around their eyes, and they were all dressed in strange outfits that didn’t bear any resemblance to any Janey had seen in her own century. The prince’s father was in a silk outfit rather like his son’s, and both the mother and Viggo were hidden in head-to-toe robes in a stiff grey fabric, the only difference being that the woman’s featured a clinched waist and low-cut bodice.
Apart from their appearance, however, they were the liveliest bunch Janey had ever come across, with the exception of G-Mamma and Tilly. When Stein announced: ‘They’re from England,’ the couple – presumably the king and queen – clapped their hands in delight and shouted ‘Zounds!’ and ‘La and forsooth!’ in great excitement.
The queen rushed to clutch Janey’s hands with her own cold fingers. ‘Art thou male or female? What wearest thou? Do they still hang witches?’
‘Mother,’ groaned the prince. ‘Nobody says “thou” any more.’
Or Mother, thought Janey, but she held it back. ‘I’m female, wearing … um … Lycra, and I hope they don’t hang witches because we just sort of met one.’
At that the woman looked desperately crestfallen. ‘Witches are safe now?’
‘Well, I’m not sure about that, and I’m not even sure she’s properly a witch, but …’
‘Greetings. I am Darius Huckenbeck, formerly Penhaligan, and this is my good wife, Lavinia. And thou … pardon me, sir, you art hound-headed!’ The man in the silk suit strode over to Jack and pumped his hand, not at all concerned for his safety. ‘God’s truth, art you a demon?’
‘Are, Father,’ said Stein with a distinct roll of his eyes. ‘Are you a demon?’
‘No, I’m not a demon,’ Jack replied. He was relaxing now; Janey could see pink skin appearing through the fur and he appeared to be shrinking. ‘I’m part-boy, part Egyptian god.’
‘Anubis!’ cried Stein triumphantly. ‘God of embalming and mummification! That is why you are not afraid among us – you have seen much death, I expect.’
‘Much,’ said Jack, his eyes narrowing, ‘but nothing quite like you.’
The atmosphere suddenly seized up in the most awkward of awkward moments as the four undead castle-dwellers eyed each other with concern. Viggo appeared to be especially uncomfortable, shredding the edge of the map with the tapered nails of his long, bony fingers.
Jack pressed on. ‘You’re undead, aren’t you?’
Stein stared at the floor, suddenly sad. ‘Are you here to tell the world of our state?’ he asked quietly. ‘We had been told by the villagers that the world is coming almost to our door for these community games in the neighbouring country. Are you part of that?’
‘No, we’re not,’ Janey declared, more firmly than she’d actually intended to. ‘The people running the World Community Games are up to no good, and we’re going to stop them.’
‘No good?’ shrieked Viggo, skewering the country of Kazakhstan with a nail. So that was why they were studying the map. ‘Do they plan to invade?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Janey honestly, ‘but the truth is that we don’t really know what they’re up to. Someone has … well, hired us to gather some things together, and every single one of them has been something to do with these Games. We’re going to get to the bottom of it and stop them in their tracks, even if our boss doesn’t like it.’
‘We are?’ said Jack.
‘We are.’
Janey folded her arms defiantly, shocked at how determined she suddenly felt. This hadn’t been the plan, but now it was – with or without Gideon Flynn.
Viggo was drawing nearer, however, and suddenly Janey could see the terrifying irises of his eyes. Red. Dark, blood red. ‘Regretfully, it may not be possible for you to leave,’ he said with a tinge of genuine sadness in his voice. ‘The world cannot know that in Transnordia there is a castle harbouring the undead.’
Jack’s dog head materialised instantly, and Janey found that she was curling her Gauntlet into position to attack. What good it would do against … a vampire, she suddenly understood … she wasn’t quite sure. Didn’t they need a stake through the heart? The blade in one of her fingertips might not be up to the job.
But Prince Stein stepped in between Viggo and the visitors. ‘Lord Viggo, with respect, this girl in boy’s garb and hound-headed lad clearly have secrets of their own. They’re not going to tell anyone of ours, I’m sure. Are you?’ he said, frowning at Janey.
‘No,’ she confirmed. ‘Definitely not. I don’t even know what the secrets are.’
‘And you wouldn’t believe the stuff we’ve both seen and had to keep to ourselves.’ Jack waggled his ears. ‘This is just the tip of the iceberg. For example, to get here we tunnelled through the earth beneath Europe on a Lazy Susan.’
‘Lazy Susan! Is she a witch?’ asked Lavinia hopefully.
Janey couldn’t help herself. She really liked them. They might be undead, or vampires – and probably werewolves and goodness knew what other forms of monster – but they seemed harmless and sweet. They just wanted to be left to themselves, and who could blame them for that?
She held up her hands so that Viggo could see they contained nothing, then asked Jack to turn out his pockets. ‘Look, we don’t want to tell anyone about you. Your secret is safe. But our …’ She didn’t quite know what to call him. Leader? Manager? Client? ‘Gideon Flynn sent us to here to grab some rock or other, so we’ve taken a lump of ore and a chunk of gold. Is that okay?’
She’d meant to assuage their fears, but now the family seemed even more concerned.
‘He sent you to grab a rock?’ repeated the prince.
Janey shrugged. ‘Yes. He didn’t say what kind, though, so we’re going to take these to Kazakhstan. Our friend is there competing in the Games.’
‘He wishes for you to take a Transnordian rock to the World Games?’ Da
rius Huckenbeck paced the floor uneasily, pulling at his pointed beard. ‘No. That … that cannot be. You must stay here among us and not return to this Gideon Flynn.’
‘We … we can’t take these stones?’ Janey took them off Jack and held them up one after the other. Walking over to the map, trying not to shudder as she passed the vampire, she placed both chunks on the table. ‘Then that’s fine. We won’t take them. I don’t know what he wants them for anyway. I don’t know what he wants any of this stuff for, actually. So we’ll just leave them here with you, and we’ll … you know, disappear.’
Lavinia was chewing her nails. ‘What doth he know, thinkest thou?’ she muttered to her husband.
‘I know not, dearest, but it will remain our secret.’
The tone of the conversation had turned again. Jack’s fur was bristling ominously and her own spy instincts were filling her gut with a growing sense of doom. If they weren’t allowed to leave, they would have to break out of the castle – a castle on a cliff-top peopled by … well, non-people. Undead things.
She was just about to try to negotiate with them when a familiar shadow filtered past the window, swiftly followed by another, taller one.
‘That’s him!’ she cried. ‘Gideon Flynn – he’s here!’
The undeads all gasped. Jack swivelled on his heel, heading for the diamond-shaped slot in the wall that acted as the window. ‘I knew I’d seen him! When we were still in the tunnel.’
In an instant, Janey had followed him, grabbing onto his shoulder. If it worked when he grabbed her shoulder, hopefully it would be effective the other way around too.
‘Wait!’ cried Viggo. ‘We have not yet decided your –'
Fate? Death? Hotel room? There wasn’t time to find out.
‘We didn’t know he was here,’ she shouted, gripping Jack’s shoulder as firmly as she could. ‘Come with us if you want!’
‘You cannot … the door ...’ Prince Stein called plaintively.
‘Don’t need it, thanks!’ cried Jack, and then he whooshed through a metre of solid granite with Janey fastened tightly to his back so that she wouldn’t get buried in the wall. It was as if he’d walked through air; in a mere moment they were out in the courtyard, scanning the walkway that ran all the way around it to see where Gideon was.
Jack paused. ‘No sign of him.’
‘He passed just seconds ago,’ said Janey. ‘He must be close by. I’ll set the Gogs on heat-seek.’
‘Good idea. With all these undeads around, they should zone in on him in no time.’
Running around the courtyard as the prince, his parents and his vampire tumbled out of the door behind them, Janey zoomed in on every room, but still she couldn’t see Flynn.
‘Upstairs!’ she called, sprinting for the stairs where she and Jack had first entered the castle. Jack followed instantly, hastily pursued by the family and a growing number of castle dwellers, who did appear to be a whole range of undeads: werewolves, vampires of all varieties, a large number of lumbering bodies with ill-fitting heads and occasional missing limbs, and a young man even bigger than Jack who hollered ‘Steiny!’ and lurched after them with open arms.
At the pinnacle of the small army of strange folk, Janey located the tunnel opening and peered along it. Nobody there. She cast her vision left into the two rooms opposite the tunnel. They appeared to be devoid of people – live ones, anyway. Yet for some reason she could see in her heat-seeking Gogs the outlines of tables and shelving lined with equipment, some of which was bubbling on an ancient Bunsen burner like she used at school. Laboratories – they were both labs like the Spylab, only cooking up something different than spy-buys and with only one small computer screen visible in either.
Of Gideon Flynn, though, there was no sign.
She ran backwards up the stairs, calling out to the young prince. ‘What’s up here?’
‘Ramparts!’ he replied, stumbling up the stairs behind Jack. ‘Very high! Be careful!’
They spilled out onto the towering castle defences which were mostly just a narrow and slippery stone ledge, edged by a crenelated wall on the side facing out towards the village. On each corner was a small circular turret, but again, each one was empty.
Then suddenly she saw him, slithering on the ramparts across the opposite side of the courtyard. He had his arms up in front of his face and was jumping to and fro, as if trying to dodge a blow from an invisible assailant – but then the assailant leapt out from behind one of the turrets, raining blows on Gideon’s head so that he ducked his head, wriggling his shoulders out of the way as the punches jabbed at him from the side, below his chin. He struck out helplessly but it was evident, even from this distance, that his opponent was getting the best of him – and no wonder, as he was much taller and with greater body weight, a fully grown, hefty man beating a slender teenage boy remorselessly. Gideon was trying to remonstrate with him; Janey could hear him crying out ‘Don’t! It’s nothing to do with them, it’s all me!’ But his words had no effect. He was forced back against the low wall, unable to slow the advancing fists with his own useless hands. ‘Jane, he’s after you! Get out of here!’ he screamed.
‘Go!’ she called to Jack, and he leapt into action, running around the left walkway as she took to her heels and raced off to the right, her Fleet Feet holding her steady on the treacherously worn surface of the castle defences. She rounded one corner and then the next, Jack moving on an identical path across on the other face of the castle as if he was her mirror image. They were on the same pathway as Gideon and the man, whose face she could now see as she pelted towards them. Over Gideon’s shoulder, he spotted her, his mouth opening in surprise. He looked familiar, but she didn’t have time to work out where she’d seen him before as Gideon noticed Jack and shouted out to him: ‘No! This is my fight.’
It was all the time the man needed. With one hammer blow of a curled fist, he punched Gideon in the ribs and sent him sprawling against the low wall. Flynn’s body hung off the ramparts, a thousand metres above the sharp shale at the foot of the mountain. He was slipping. In the last moments he finally used his hands, reaching out to grip the man’s trouser leg, and just before Janey and Jack managed to get to them, the grappling pair slid over the edge of the parapet and plunged into the vast open space below.
‘No!’ she screamed, thrusting out her Gauntlet, trying to recall which finger might hold a grappling hook, rushing to fling herself over the wall to reach Gideon Flynn … but Jack stilled her hand with his own enormous one.
‘There’s no point. They couldn’t survive that fall, Blonde,’ he said gently.
She rocked back on her heels, horrified. She didn’t know anything about Gideon, really, or why he was there, but to watch someone – anyone – plummet to their death like that was truly horrific. And seeing Gideon remonstrate with the man, trying to stop him as much for their sake as for his own, or so it seemed – well, the ache in her heart was impenetrable.
‘I’ll go and find … them,’ said Jack. ‘Do my thing so at least their bas are safe. I still don’t like all this undead stuff so I don’t want to leave their bas floating around.’
Unable to speak, Janey nodded, hardly able to watch as Jack ran back along the ramparts and down the stairs, shouting, ‘Scuse me, ‘scuse me’ to anybody in his way.
‘You need some pom juice,’ said a voice behind her.
She turned to find the prince standing behind her, sandwiched between his parents.
‘We’ve had battles of our own from these ramparts,’ said Stein, ‘and pom juice is the only thing that ever helps afterwards.’
‘As well as the not dying because we’re undead,’ said his father helpfully. ‘That helps too.’
Janey offered him a small smile. ‘That would be an advantage.’
‘Pom juice,’ they all uttered together, nodding.
Whatever it was, it was a popular cure-all.
She let Stein lead her back along the walkway and down the stairs, making for the castle ki
tchens. The crowd had melted away once the action was over, leaving just Viggo, the man-sized boy and his parents to accompany the prince in search of the mysterious pom juice. What had happened, she asked herself. Why was Gideon here rather than at the Games? And who was the man he was fighting with? She’d definitely seen him before. Was he one of the guards from the party or the others at the HOST car park?
Slowing down to avoid the chatter of the Huckenbecks, who were clearly more used to people diving to their deaths from the castle walls, she zoomed in again on the laboratories. Strangely, she could still make out a heat-source from various spots inside the room. It was almost as if something was alive in there. She passed the second lab door and noticed the same thing in that room, though less marked, before walking beneath an enormous moose head nailed to a plaque on the stone wall, and a massive family portrait of the Huckenbecks of the type she’d been taken to see in the National Gallery.
In the painting, they all looked exactly the same as they did in the – well, flesh - although with a bit more sparkle. She thought she knew why. This, presumably, was painted before they became undead, for whatever reason that had happened. Back before they became the Transnordian Huckenbeck Dynasty. When they were simply - Janey read the tiny brass plate on the mahogany frame – ‘Darius and Lavinia Penhaligan, and their son, Petroc, Year of Our Lord 1725.’
‘Come along, Mistress Blon-Brown!’ called Prince Stein from the kitchen doorway. ‘Pom juice awaits!’ He was holding out a goblet of some gungey brown liquid that had dribbled a little down the outside of the cup.
‘That’s not really my name,’ she started to say, and then she realised something.
Three things, actually.
Firstly, the liquid in the chalice that Stein was holding out was glowing as she looked at it. According to her Gogs, it gave off a heat source like the stuff in the laboratories, as if it was … alive.
Secondly, the dribbles down the outside of the dull metal goblet had caused it to change colour. Change its very nature, in fact. Where the gunge had flowed across it, the goblet now shone like the sun.
S*W*A*G*G 1, Spook Page 18
