by Glenn Dakin
‘Oh, great Candle Hand,’ Skun said, ‘dreadest of the dread. You are happy – very happy – with our news that your friend is still alive?’
‘Very happy,’ said Theo dully. He had no idea how long Chloe would remain that way.
Skun clapped his hands together and grinned with delight. ‘You will now be even happier,’ he said. ‘For we have a proposition for you.’
‘Yes?’
‘On behalf of the smoglodyte people I offer you the friendship of the foul murk.’ The smogs looked up at Theo with imploring eyes. ‘Join us – be our ally, our hero, our slayer of foes!’
At these words, Theo’s heart sank further. He looked down at his hands, which were now flickering with just the palest glimmer of light. As his rage had died down, so his power had faded away. The shock of the last hour began to hit home. Suddenly he felt drained and miserable.
‘I think I know where slaying these creatures would lead,’ he said. ‘They might kill Chloe for sure then!’
He looked from face to face as they awaited his words. ‘I’m not a slayer of anything,’ Theo said. ‘I only want to find my friend – not start a war.’
‘A war!’ said Skun with enthusiasm. ‘Yes, we must start a war! The Candle Hand will form a great and dreadful society with the smoglodytes! We will crash, smash, splatter all our foes!’
The smogs grew excited at these words and began to leap around the chamber echoing Skun’s words.
‘Crash, smash, splatter!’
‘No!’ Theo cried. ‘I am not going to use my powers to – to smash and splatter.’
‘Not even to help your friends?’ Skun asked in a pathetic voice. ‘Your dear companions of old? I told you – we are being killed off!’
‘Just like you once tried to kill my friends!’ Theo exploded.
‘Yes, but we didn’t, did we?’ Skun attempted a fresh smile. ‘We failed. And for that you are in our debt. A debt of gratitude and friendship.’
‘No,’ said Theo, becoming confused.
‘You,’ piped up Florn, ‘the great Candle Hand, could kill the creeping things, the things that steal humans and slaughter smogs – but you will not?’
Theo sighed. The anxious faces of the smoglodytes surrounded him, staring at him, awaiting his answer. He just wanted them all to go away.
‘I do have a power,’ he said. ‘I – I’ve told this to the humans too . . . but I want to use it to make things better – to help people – not to hurt anyone – not even . . . creeping things,’ he trailed off.
‘Then your answer,’ whined Florn pitifully, ‘is . . . no?’
Theo looked bleak. ‘I’m sorry, very sorry that the creatures are killing you. But I am not a warrior – or a slayer. I cannot join you in your war – so I have to say no.’
Silence hung in the shadowy chamber.
‘I’ll take that as a “yes”,’ said Skun.
‘Look out!’ screeched one of the smallest smogs. ‘It’s them!’
A black tentacle like a whiplash ripped into the party of smogs. At the same moment a shattering sound filled the air, as behind them the fungus globe was smashed by flailing tendrils. Darkness descended.
‘Flee!’
Smogs sprang off in all directions, one ricocheting off the side of Theo’s head.
Theo couldn’t see a thing. He heard a horrible scream and was splashed by wet innards as one of the smogs exploded. ‘No!’
Theo summoned all his power and raised his blazing green hands above his head. By the light of his own crackling energy, Theo glimpsed a sparkling, slimy shape vanishing into a crack in the wall. Next to the crack, he saw what looked like the shadow of a smoglodyte, weirdly stuck to the tunnel floor. The dark, imp-shaped smear stretched out, sizzling faintly. It was all that was left of one of the smoglings.
Theo turned round slowly and inspected the chamber by the light of his own burning hands. He was alone again. He fled.
Theo hauled his tired body out of the hatch and found his way to the back entrance of the Condemned Cemetery. Brambles scratched his legs as he squeezed though the broken iron gate but he didn’t care. As he walked home through the rows of headstones, he scoured the starry sky in vain for a bat-winged figure.
The lights of a police car flashed in Kensington Gore. Chloe was somewhere under the ground and Tristus had not returned. As Theo trudged up the steps of Empire Hall, a hunched, whiskery figure in a shabby coat stirred on a nearby park bench. The tramp rose suddenly and hurried towards Theo with quick, nervous steps. But when a tall police officer appeared at the doorway to let Theo in, the tramp turned and slunk away.
Chapter Eight
Pets
‘Stop, you slithering scum!’
A voice cut through the darkness. The prickles withdrew from Sam’s neck. Unseen creepers slipped off Magnus’s throat. They heard footsteps as a group of figures drew nearer.
‘Get away!’ the voice cried. ‘The boss needs slaves, not corpses! How many times do I have to tell yer?’
A tiny gleam of light appeared in the tunnel. Sam and Magnus watched as a hulking figure could be seen, carrying a staff topped with a miniature fungus globe.
‘Now, what have we here?’
Sam blenched. He could see that several members of the repair party were dead, sprawled in ugly postures like broken dolls on the tunnel floor. As Sam took in the scene, he glimpsed a black tendril, just as it whisked out of sight into the shadows.
The human arrivals were a ragged band, dressed in ill-fitting clothes that looked as if they had been rescued from a rubbish heap.
The tallest man drew closer. He had a great black beard, matted and thick with ash. Like the rest of the group of four men, he was caked in grime. His eyes were big and pale, slightly bulging, like those of a deep-sea creature. As he inspected Sam and Magnus in the gloom, he sniffed over them, more like an animal than a human being.
‘Sewer Rats,’ breathed Magnus, leaning towards Sam. The acoustics of the tunnel, however, amplified the words.
Sewer Rats, Sewer Rats, Sewer Rats . . .
The bearded man turned to glower at Magnus.
‘This one knows who we are,’ he said. ‘Very interestin’. Think we’ll take him back to meet the master.’
‘Leave him alone,’ blurted out Sam, before he could stop himself.
‘Oho!’ growled the bearded man. ‘And this one’s not frightened.’ He peered closely at Sam.
‘The name’s Hollister, by the way,’ he said. ‘And you – are my prisoners.’
Sam tried not to cower before the man’s gaze.
‘If you ain’t scared o’ me,’ Hollister said, ‘you might be good enough to take a squiz at our little pets. Scare you right to death they will.’
With a low chuckle Hollister gestured towards the dark shadows of the tunnel behind him. Among the dead bodies lying there, swirling tendrils could be seen and a strange glistening shimmer of half-glimpsed light.
‘Your master?’ Magnus asked, drawing himself up to his full height. ‘Who is master of the infernal creatures?’
‘Infernal, ’e says,’ Hollister grinned, revealing several cracked and missing teeth. ‘Little darlin’s they are if you know how to bargain with them.’
‘Here’s another alive one,’ a smaller Sewer Rat said, from further down the tunnel. He was a sallow figure, bald, with one eye that was permanently closed, looking rather like someone had stuck a hot poker in it.
‘Show us ’im, Queasley,’ rumbled Hollister.
With surprising strength for his size, the one-eyed Queasley hauled a human shape up from the floor. Whimpering, the body sank to the ground again.
‘Mercy! Please!’
It was Freddie Dove. He was weeping like a child. It was now clear only six members of the expedition were still alive. The ones that had ignored Magnus’s warning had borne the brunt of the attack.
‘Pafetic!’ cackled Queasley, throwing Freddie back against the wall. The young lord fell back to the ground, where
dark tendrils curled around him.
‘Are we ready, my pets?’ Hollister growled. From the dark came a low hissing and bubbling sound.
‘Take these survivors to the master,’ Hollister snarled.
Sam, Magnus and Freddie were led away. Behind them, as their footsteps faded, dark tendrils emerged from the shadows and reached out for the fallen bodies.
Chapter Nine
Orpheus
Despite his exhaustion, Theo found it hard to sleep. Thoughts of Chloe’s terrible disappearance haunted his dreams. And now and then he saw visions of the smoking body of the slaughtered smoglodyte. Sometimes he sprang awake, sitting bolt upright, convinced he had been woken by lightning . . . but he found himself sitting in darkness.
Is it my power? Am I sensing danger, even in my sleep?
He lay staring at the ceiling. He didn’t want to close his eyes. Now I’m afraid to drop off, in case the bright light comes back.
Or was it just a dream after all?
Gather your strength, Tristus had said. Surely, Theo thought, I was right to go to bed. I couldn’t stumble around those tunnels all night on my own!
He had no one else to guide him now, so he had decided to follow the advice of the wise garghoul.
After hours of fitful dreams he looked at his clock: 5:45. It was morning now. Throughout his entire childhood he had been made to get up at this hour, to be given medicine he had never really needed, by a guardian who had never really cared for him. Even now it was hard for him to believe those bleak days were over.
Theo sprang out of bed and pulled on some warm clothes, including an enormous black jumper that Chloe had given him.
Tristus must have some news by now, but he can’t speak to me if I’m indoors.
Putting on some boots, Theo stole out of the house, into the back garden and out of the gate. This was the quickest route into the Condemned Cemetery – in fact, it was the route he had taken the day he ran away from Dr Saint.
A blue light was beginning to dawn. Shivering and breathing white clouds on to the chill air, he walked through the graveyard, searching the skies, the trees and the rooftops of the mausoleums for a sight of the garghoul. But no pointed horns or jagged wings appeared against the sky.
Theo thought furiously.
Perhaps Tristus will return to the place where he left me. Theo remembered the chamber beneath the graveyard where they had spotted one of the creatures.
Should I go back there? Or wait for Sam and Magnus to return? He wondered how long they would be on their expedition. As he passed the cemetery keeper’s cottage it looked dark, empty and dead.
Still unsure of what to do, he went out the back gate of the cemetery, to the secret hatch that would take him into the network. Theo froze. Someone was there.
Police, Theo thought, glimpsing uniforms. The dark figures looked up and spotted him too.
He felt he had no choice but to draw nearer. The two men were wearing uniforms Theo had never seen before – of black leather, with polished boots and gloves. Each wore a little silver police badge, but of a kind Theo did not recognise. Both wore helmets with shiny visors that covered most of their faces.
‘Good morning,’ Theo said politely. ‘Are you – searching the tunnels?’
One of the men loomed over Theo. ‘What do you know about it? Who are you?’
‘I’m Theo Wickland. I – I was with the police last night when, when –’ his voice dried up. Suddenly he felt miserable and afraid. ‘You are police, aren’t you?’
‘Orpheus,’ said one of the men.
Theo frowned. ‘Orpheus, the ancient Greek musician?’ he asked uncertainly. ‘The one who went down into the Underworld?’ He had read about Orpheus in his book, Greek Myths Retold for the Very Young.
The two men looked at each other. ‘I think it really is him,’ one said.
‘Yes,’ the other replied. ‘So much for all those reports of him vanishing into thin air yesterday!’
They looked back at Theo. ‘Orpheus is a new police division – a special force created by Commissioner Gold to battle this underground menace,’ one of the men said. ‘We’d better take you home, Master Wickland. You shouldn’t be out.’
‘But – but I wanted to go into the network,’ Theo said. ‘I’ve got to –’
‘Afraid not.’ One of the men shook his head. ‘No entry. The whole place is shut now. It’s one big crime scene.’
Crime scene? Theo supposed they were talking about Chloe being abducted. But there was something grim in their tone he couldn’t quite understand. He gulped, fighting back a feeling of desperation. ‘But –’
‘The network is closed. No one goes in any more unless they’re Orpheus-cleared. Now – back home. And wait for police contact.’
Theo followed, in gloomy resignation, as one of the men led him all the way back through the cemetery.
Theo climbed the steps of Empire Hall. It seemed to loom before him like a prison again. The Orpheus officer walked away, speaking into his radio. As the door closed on Theo, a tramp rose from a nearby bench and slowly approached the mansion.
Theo sat at the rather grand writing desk in his room, studying his precious map of the network. Magnus had made a copy of it, but this was the original. He gazed at its mysterious lines, colour codes and symbols. Somewhere down there – or beyond – was Chloe. Sam and Magnus were in the labyrinth too. How he wished he could be with his friends now.
Wait for police contact, he reminded himself.
But I am the Candle Man! Is waiting all I can do?
Just then, there was a polite tap at the door. ‘Breakfast, sir!’
Montmerency, the enormous butler, wheeled in a large cart piled with steaming silver pots and covered dishes. He plucked the lid off the main dish like a conjurer performing a trick.
‘A Montmerency special,’ he said. ‘Eggs, pork sausage, kidneys, fried gammon, tomatoes, bubble and squeak and black pudding. That’ll put colour in your cheeks, sir, not them bowls of birdseed Cook has been doing for you.’
Theo eyed the mound of animal parts in front of him. Really, he preferred the birdseed.
‘Thank you,’ he said flatly.
‘By the way, sir,’ the butler said. ‘There’s an old friend of yours outside – wants to have a word.’
‘A friend?’ Theo’s heart leapt. ‘Show him in!’
The butler’s footsteps disappeared down the hall. Theo looked at his cooked breakfast warily. He broke a corner off a piece of toast and nibbled it.
A skinny, whiskered tramp came through the door. Theo’s heart sank – he had been hoping to see Sam’s cheery face.
‘Good morning, sir,’ Theo said politely. He did not wish to be rude. He had once heard tramps referred to as knights of the road, so he decided ‘Sir’ was the safest form of address.
The tramp stopped a few feet away from Theo and gazed at him with ice-blue eyes.
‘So at last we meet,’ the man said in a hushed voice.
‘Oh, you!’ said Theo. ‘I saw you in the street.’ He surveyed the stranger, who looked unkempt and gaunt, but not half as weathered and down-at-heel as he had expected a tramp to be.
‘I know all about tramps,’ Theo said, feeling a little awkward. ‘Gentlemen of the open road. No worries, no cares. Whistling a merry tune as you scrump an apple from a passing orchard.’
‘I am not a tramp,’ the figure replied in wounded tones. ‘Do I look like I could whistle a merry tune?’ He drew himself up indignantly. ‘I am Ex-chief Benevolence of the Society of Good Works, ex-second-in-command only to the deceased Dr Saint, the right honourable Lord Timeus Dove.’
Theo went white.
Chapter Ten
Dove of Peace
‘Lord Dove?’ Theo gasped.
‘The same,’ the stranger said. ‘I know much about you, Theobald. But, owing to the extreme secrecy of our Society, we have, of course, never met.’
‘B-but how –?’ Theo began to stammer. ‘I mean, why –?’
The figure raised a finger to his lips. ‘Not so loud!’ he said. ‘The police are everywhere. I’ve seen them stamping in and out of here all hours, looking through Dr Saint’s old files and records. There seems to be a constable at every door.’
‘Well, the police are here to protect me from people like you!’ said Theo, starting to take off his gloves.
He has returned, Theo remembered. Lord Dove had been missing since Dr Saint’s defeat. Was this his new arch-enemy?
‘Stop!’ hissed Lord Dove, backing towards the door. ‘You don’t need protecting from me any more. Much as I hate it, you’re the head of my Society!’
Theo kept his distance.
‘But I always heard that you were an immaculately dressed man – even more so than Dr Saint,’ Theo said, puzzled at Lord Dove’s scruffy appearance. ‘Mr Nicely told me about your white suit and lilac gloves.’
‘I’ve been on the run,’ Lord Dove snapped. ‘Hiding in tunnels, flitting from one wretched hole to another, like a fox.’ He looked affronted. ‘Anyway,’ he added, ‘to avoid capture I have to appear as little like myself as possible!’
Theo thought about this. ‘Oh, yes,’ he said, the cleverness of this strategy hitting him. ‘That’s rather good! But why have you come? And how did you get in?’
‘Under a word of truce. “Rapscallion”,’ he said. ‘Your staff had to let me in. It’s old Society rules. Luckily your butler used to work for one of our old members, Baron Patience.’
Theo looked puzzled. Lord Dove shut the door quietly. He approached Theo again, step by cautious step. Mr Nicely had once told Theo that there was nothing so dangerous as a cornered rat. Well, Lord Dove was something like a cornered mouse.
‘It’s – it’s my son,’ Lord Dove said.
‘Freddie?’
‘Yes. My only son, Frederick. May I have a spot of coffee?’ he asked suddenly, eyeing a round silver pot on Theo’s tray.
‘Go ahead,’ said Theo. ‘But I thought the Society of Good Works regarded coffee as poison: the Brown Death.’
‘Ah, yes,’ sighed Lord Dove, rather shakily pouring himself a cup. ‘While Dr Saint was alive we had to follow rather a lot of beliefs. Times have changed now, haven’t they?’ he added. ‘Perhaps a little bit of death can be good for you.’
