The Amber Pendant

by Imogen White

  “I bound her like an Egyptian mummy!” Snodgrass giggled.

  Rose’s heart sank. Enna had been in the tobacco shop the whole time. We could have rescued her. She sniffed.

  “Well, let’s get on with it then.” Funnel turned to face Rose, striding towards her across the library. “I have waited a long time for this.”

  The clock in the lobby let out ten slow chimes. In two hours, the planetary alignment would be in place; there was nothing they could do to stop the brotherhood’s evil plan. Funnel had everything he needed. She watched him approach, his pendant pulsating red and black, singing to the tune of hatred and greed that swam inside of him. Rose felt sick to her middle.

  Banks dragged Rose up, holding her in a vice-like grip. Rose mumbled curses through the gag. “The pendant is yours to take, Sir,” Banks smirked.

  The pendant around Rose’s neck started vibrating. She could feel its panic; it matched hers.

  “Thank you, Banks. I intend to savour this moment. It has been forty years in the making.” Funnel lifted Rose’s chin and forced her to look up at him. She hoped he could see her hatred.

  Close up, the scarred side of his face looked tight and shiny; the other half hung in gathered wrinkles.

  In the moment of silence that moved between them he stared deep into her eyes – her soul. Her nostrils filled with the stench from his mouth – his mint humbug failing to mask the more repugnant smell of his breath. Vomit hovered at the back of her throat. She tried to struggle free but Banks held her even tighter.

  Banks spoke. “This is the rat delivered here from the workhouse last Tuesday week, and employed as a maid. We had no reason to suspect she would become so pertinent to the operation,” he growled. “They introduced her into the household by stealth, but, I, of course, figured it out –” he bent over, moving his lips close to her ear and she could feel the tickling whiskers of his moustache, the heat of his breath – “and trapped the vermin.” Rose bashed him away with the side of her head.

  “Ouch!” Banks winced. He dug his nails deep into her coat, stinging the flesh of her arm. Rose yelped, squeezed her eyes shut and tried to swallow the pain. He laughed.

  “Well, well, well. You can take the girl out of the workhouse but you can’t take the workhouse out of the girl. Heh.” Funnel raised an eyebrow.

  I’d rather come from the workhouse than be anything like you! She wanted to scream at him, but the gag prevented her so she scowled instead.

  “So, the pendant chose you? I wonder why?” He tilted his head, his expression momentarily softened. “You have a look of the Templeforths about you. Your eyes, they remind me of…” He trailed off and his expression darkened. “It matters not; you have done your job of bringing the pendant to us.” His words trickled with menace.

  Funnel’s gaze dropped to her pendant and the pupil of his only eye dilated.

  A burst of panic rushed through Rose. The pendant pumped in rhythm with her heart.

  “At last I have it,” he hissed, lifting it with reverence from her neck by the chain. Rose whimpered. She felt all her fight leave as the pendant passed over her head, replaced by a hollow sense of total loss.

  Suddenly, Funnel’s mint humbug dropped from his mouth and skittered across the floor. Then his lips snapped shut like a mousetrap. He swayed off-kilter and stumbled, Rose’s pendant gripped in his hand. Funnel crashed to his knees; his head dropped to his chest.

  No one knew what to do. There were gasps of astonishment and fear. Grobbs crept closer, his eyes wide.

  Funnel fell forward onto all fours. Convulsions shot along his body and his bowed head lashed about like that of a rabid dog.

  Rose’s heart clattered in her chest. What’s happening to him?

  She caught Snodgrass’s panicked look as he backed away and huddled by the door, open-mouthed. Only Ormerod broke free from them. Pushing past Grobbs, he rushed to offer his assistance. “Sir!”

  Banks released his grip on Rose and pulled Ormerod back. “Leave him!” the detective ordered. Free from his grasp, Rose slumped to her knees.

  Funnel’s body stilled and everyone silenced. Rose could hear her own heart thumping. The air filled with an invisible energy – a dark, clawing hollowness which seeped from Funnel and swam silently around the room. Everyone squirmed, feeling it too. Even Banks’s eyes trailed around at the ceiling suspiciously. Grobbs backed into the table in the far corner, his thick hands just managing to stop it from falling.

  Funnel drew an enormous breath.

  Rasping, he crawled towards the large armchair by the fireplace, where the girl sat, and heaved himself up. Missy bent away from him.

  Funnel straightened with his back to them. He looked at least half a foot taller than he had been before and new hair grew on his scalp, thick and brown. The deep mesmerized silence was broken by a dark vibrating chuckle; Funnel’s broadening shoulders shook.

  “S-sir?” Banks stammered.

  Funnel swivelled around and faced the room. His skin glowed, softer and younger. His good eye twinkled. He rolled his neck until it clicked. A guilty fear sheeted over Rose. I’ve failed. She couldn’t bear to watch. A wicked smile drew up half of Funnel’s mouth as he raked his hands through his new glossy hair. The scarred side of his face pulsated and then gradually filled and smoothed out, healing completely. Only the hole where his missing eye should have been remained.

  The gathered group stared at Funnel, unable to believe their eyes.

  “Master…you look half your age. So…powerful,” Snodgrass snivelled, tiptoeing towards him. The others nudged each other in awe.

  Missy sat forward in the armchair, her gaze, like everyone else’s, transfixed on Funnel.

  “What are you all staring at? I FEEL FANTASTIC!” Funnel bellowed in a tone much deeper than before.

  Funnel lifted Rose’s pendant triumphantly in the air, then slipped it around his neck to join its twin. The pendants pulsed alternately one darker than the other.

  The young girl clapped, her face full of glee. Others mumbled excitedly.

  “By Jingo. Incredible,” Ormerod cheered.

  “See! This is how strong the ancient magic is. You too can be powerful once we have completed the spell.” Funnel pointed around the room and pulled up his sleeve, exposing the sun tattoo. “Our Shadow Lord, Verrulf, has chosen me – chosen us all. Are you ready to undertake the task he has set for us, brothers?”

  Ormerod edged forward, pulling up his sleeve, revealing his own tattoo printed there. “I am,” he exclaimed, kneeling before Funnel.

  The others hurriedly copied Ormerod, until they all bowed at Funnel’s feet.

  Funnel sucked air in through his teeth and let his head fall backwards, as a further bolt rejuvenated him. “Your devotion strengthens me. Verrulf shall reward you all.”

  “Sir.” Banks stepped forward. “It is fifteen minutes past ten o’clock. We must go to the West Pier, the planets align at midnight and we have much to prepare. Shall I dispose of the children?”

  Dispose of us? Still handcuffed, Rose’s eyes swung from Banks to Funnel and back again, realizing at that second that they wanted to kill her and Rui.

  “Yes.” Funnel glared at Rose. She trembled. “They know too much and the girl has a connection to the pendant.”

  “I could set fire to the house with them inside?” Snodgrass said snidely, glaring at Rose. His hand, where she’d bitten him, still oozed with blood.

  Rui, whose cries were muffled by his gag, kicked out. Trickles of cold perspiration ran down the back of Rose’s green dress. Fire?

  Snodgrass continued. “They would roast like piggies.” He flapped his fingers either side of his head like ears. “Oink, oink! And good riddance to them. He he!” His laugh droned like a whirring engine. But realizing no one else had laughed, Snodgrass stopped and his cheeks reddened.

  “Enough, Snodgrass,” Banks sniped. “You imbecile.”

  Snodgrass’s shoulders hunched over; he looked like a scrawny hawk as he hopped
away, protecting his injured hand like a broken wing, glancing distrustfully at the other men.

  “Relax, Snodgrass, your loyalty will be rewarded, of course,” Funnel countered somewhat half-heartedly. “No, house fires are messy, and too likely to rouse attention. Lock them up, the attic will suffice. Verrulf wants to question the girl.” He gestured to Rose. “Once the black sun has risen, he and his Creeplings can decide their fate.”

  Creeplings? Verrulf decide my fate? Rose choked, her eyes welling up. She suddenly preferred the idea of the house fire. That way at least someone might see the flames and rescue them.

  Funnel strode towards Missy and patted her head. Her china-doll face broke into an even grin, exposing two perfect rows of tiny teeth.

  “And you, Missy,” he said, “shall watch me become the man I was born to be. Verrulf has always had a soft spot for you, just as I do, my dark princess.”

  “Thank you, Great-Uncle,” she replied with a sugared smile.

  Great-Uncle? Rose scowled. Enna said the pendant had reacted strongly to her when she’d come to the house, and that was why – they’re related. Helpless, Rose’s chest began to rise and fall, her sobs muted by the gag.

  Funnel turned to the men gathered around him. “Tonight, my twelve brothers, we will unleash the black sun. After midnight, once the planets align and the spell is performed, the sun will turn black and this world will belong to Verrulf and his army of Creeplings. This will be the strongest spell performed on this earth for thousands of years. And we shall be rewarded with power and strength beyond our wildest dreams. To the West Pier!”

  Funnel wobbled as a further surge of energy shot through his veins. Leaning on his cane he steadied himself. His eye rolled and a broad smile stretched diagonally across his thin face.

  “And Ormerod, I trust you can transcribe the spell?”

  Ormerod wedged his monocle over his right eye, clutching Mr Gupta’s open journal. “The entire thing is written in a very ancient dialect.” His voice quivered. “I have to admit it’s not a type I am overly familiar with.”

  Rui looked up. Rose caught the flash of hope in his eyes.

  “WHAT?” Funnel boomed.

  Ormerod drew a quick breath. “But I am certain I can get by,” he squeaked, removing his monocle and positioning it over the text like a magnifying glass.

  “Very good,” Funnel smirked. “Banks, deal with the children, and meet us at the West Pier when you’re done.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Banks replied.

  He spun towards the others. “Shift them upstairs to the attic,” Banks ordered. “Grobbs, take the girl. Graves, the boy and, Snodgrass, I trust you can manage the monkey?”

  Still netted, Bahula shrieked as Snodgrass slung him over his shoulder like a sack of rags and bones. “Yes, Sir.”

  Grobbs’s thick hands dragged Rose backwards across the carpet towards the door. Rui was pushed along behind her.

  Missy looked on, twirling her ringlets around her finger, and then inspecting her nails. However pretty she might be on the outside, she’s got the innards of a viper, Rose thought, her lips pursed. I’d wipe that smile off her face given half the chance.

  Funnel’s words carried from the room behind them. “In less than two hours the Black Sun will rise over us.” He drew in a long breath. “The Creeplings will walk this earth tonight, our Shadow Lord, Verrulf, will become of flesh and bone and we will have the power we have dreamed of.”

  “Hear! Hear!”

  “Bravo!”

  “Long reign the Brotherhood of the Black Sun!”

  Hot tears streamed down Rose’s face. She knew she’d failed. The cause was…lost.

  Snodgrass, Graves and the huge Grobbs hauled their captives up to Rose’s attic room. Once there, Grobbs produced two more sets of handcuffs and bolted Rose and Rui onto the bars of the iron radiator that stood next to the bed, Rui at one end, Rose at the other. Tears trickled down Rose’s face as she looked pleadingly at Grobbs, but his eyes were as cold as bottle tops. He clicked the handcuffs shut.

  Bahula had stopped wriggling inside the net, and lay there shivering.

  “Right,” Grobbs said, dusting his hands together. “They won’t be getting out of here.”

  “Just to be sure, I’ll lock the blighters in too,” Snodgrass whined, holding the door open as the other two men departed. “Hope you don’t get too lonely up here!” He grinned as he walked out, shutting and locking the door behind him. “You’ll have plenty of company soon enough,” he whispered. “Of the shadowy type.”

  A minute later they heard the front door slam shut.

  Rose frantically tugged at the handcuffs, which clanked against the radiator and sent an echoing clang of distress through the pipework of the empty house. But no one was there to hear it. It was useless; the handcuffs were so heavy that the more she pulled, the more they hurt.

  The storm outside rattled at the window, throwing rain in gusty handfuls.

  It wasn’t even like Jack Billings would be nosing around. He was away, and there was no one who could save them.

  She looked over to Rui, who had turned away from her, and was tugging at his coat trying to reach his pocket. He can’t even bear to look at me, she thought.

  Memories filled Rose’s mind. Enna coming for her at the workhouse. Rui’s excitement when they found the missing pendant. Mr Gupta’s bulging eyes in the graveyard. The Creeplings… Verrulf. And then she thought about Enna trapped in the cellar of the tobacco shop all this time, when they could have saved her. The injustice of it all made her so angry. We’re not through yet.

  Rose turned her attention to her gag, jerking her jaw up and down repeatedly. With a purposeful tug towards her shoulder, it finally loosened. She spat out the ball of muslin.

  “Rui!” she spluttered between gulps of air. He twisted his neck towards her, his eyes wide open. “Bring your head towards me,” she panted.

  Rose strained forward, latching her teeth on to the coarse cloth that covered Rui’s mouth, and tugged and tugged. It fell.

  “Thank you, Rose,” Rui puffed. “I know I messed up – and I’m sorry. Perhaps I’m not as good a detective as I hoped.” He looked down.

  “Rubbish,” Rose said. “Besides, you’re a detective in training. You gotta get things wrong, so next time you can get them right.”

  “Next time, yes.” His eyes flashed. “I think next time is already upon us. I have a brilliant plan, you see.”

  “You do!” Rose rallied.

  “The handcuffs they’ve used to restrain us are Darby Cuffs; they have a single locking mechanism which, regrettably, is impossible to open without a key.”

  “Great,” Rose sighed, knowing they didn’t have one.

  Rui continued. “You know, Harry Houdini, the world famous escape artist –” he didn’t wait for Rose to answer – “is also known as The Handcuff King. Nothing can contain the man – he is pure, slippery genius… I subscribe to his Conjurers’ Monthly Magazine, of course.”

  Rui fiddled with something behind his back.

  “Now, during my brief scuffle with Banks in the lobby downstairs, whilst trying to retrieve Mr Gupta’s journal, I managed to remove something from his pocket – the only thing in there – it always pays to be resourceful in these situations.”

  Rose remembered seeing him slip something into his pocket before that Missy had turned on the lights. “The key to these handcuffs?” Rose leaned forward, a smile expanding.

  “Alas, no.”

  Her mouth straightened.

  Rui continued. “I suppose it would be no surprise that a man such as Banks, with greased-back hair and coiffured moustache, would have such a product on his person.”

  “What you on about?”

  “Ballantine.”

  “Moustache cream?” He’s off his chump. Rose scanned her sparse room for inspiration – anything that might help. Nothing. A deep sadness filled her. “I’ve turned out to be a pretty rubbish guardian. I lost the pendant to them, Rui,”
she sniffed. “And without that…I’m nothing.”

  “On the contrary,” he corrected her at once, his hands still busy behind his back. “Without the pendant you remain Rose Muddle, my most tremendous companion.”

  Rose gave him a quick smile. “But the Brotherhood of the Black Sun have everything they need. They’ll already be at the West Pier waiting for the planets to align. They’ve got Enna Lee trapped, and we’re proper stuck here.”

  “I must disagree. You see, these particular cuffs were decommissioned due to one important defect: they are non-adjustable; one size supposedly fits all. They are heavy, cumbersome and, quite frankly, not fit for purpose when you have a lubricant…and hands as small and agile as mine.”

  There was a metallic clunk behind Rui.

  He grinned.

  “Now, if you wouldn’t mind,” he said standing free. “Wipe this on your hands, would you?” Rose looked down at his empty handcuffs, still attached to the radiator, her mouth ajar.

  “You bleedin’ well did it!” she spluttered. Rui helped smooth the cool lotion on to her hands. They slid free with relative ease. “Woo HOO!” she shouted, standing up and stroking her sore wrists.

  Rui picked Bahula up, still trapped in the net, placed him on the bed and hurriedly released him. Bahula bounced free and jumped up and down on the mattress. Rose snuggled him into a warm embrace. Rui joined them, and for the tiniest moment Rose thought things might be all right.

  “The West Pier!” She straightened suddenly. “They have my pendant!”

  Rose and Rui stood face to face. “And the cup, and the journal and Mr Gupta’s body.” Rui ticked each off against the digits of his hand.

  “And we have to rescue Enna Lee.” Rose squeezed her hands into fists. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “But, unfortunately, we are still locked in your bedroom.”

  Rose marched to her bedroom door and peered through the keyhole. “That Snodgrass is sloppy, he left the key in the lock,” she muttered, a wry smile forming on her lips. “I have an old workhouse trick for this, and as that Funnel said earlier, you can’t never take the workhouse out of this girl.” She plucked a hairgrip from her head. A tuft of her auburn hair fell in front of her eyes; she blew it away.