by Becky Citra
“Um ...” Before, Will would have said writing. That was how he thought of his life; Before and After. He shrugged.
“When I finally get out of Sparrowhawk, I’ll be going to New York,” said Emma.
“Let me guess,” said Will. “Circus school.”
A horn blared behind them. It was Mr. Cherry in the pink van. The road was so narrow that they had to press up against a building to let him pass. He glared at Peaches through the window and shook his fist. Peaches barked until the van disappeared around a corner.
“How old are you?” asked Emma.
“Twelve.”
“School year?”
“Seven.”
“Good! Same as me. Do people call you Willy?”
“Will,” said Will firmly. He wanted to direct the attention away from him. “Why is your dog called Peaches?”
“He used to be called Jack. And then he stole ten peaches and ate every one!”
“Ten?” said Will.
“He grabbed them off the table when no one was looking. He had a stomach ache all night and moaned and groaned and now he won’t touch a peach. He shakes when he sees one.”
“Hey, Emma!” called a voice above them. Will looked up. A boy with a round face leaned out of a window above the street. “Come on up!”
“Just for a minute,” said Emma. “We’re going to the castle!” She opened a green door under a carved archway. Inside was a steep staircase. “This is my friend Thom Fairweather’s place. Peaches, you can wait here.”
Thom greeted them at the top of the stairs. He had a thatch of thick brown hair that stuck out in all directions as if it had been cut by six different barbers at the same time. There was a dusting of white on his nose and a blob of chocolate on his eyebrow.
“This is Will,” said Emma. “He’s in year seven like us and he’s going to be living here.”
“Hi,” said Thom. “You better be quiet because Dad’s asleep.”
The flat was small and filled with a delicious baking smell. In one corner sprawled a huge jade tree in a ceramic pot; in the other corner was a large wooden loom strung with brightly coloured threads.
“I’ll come to the castle too,” said Thom. “I’m just putting the icing on my cake. Can you wait for me? I can’t hurry this stage.”
“I’m his official taster,” said Emma as they followed Thom into the kitchen.
The kitchen counter was covered with egg shells, a bag of sugar tipped over, butter, baking chocolate, spoons dripping batter, mixing bowls and a whisk. A wobbly chocolate cake, two layers high, sat on a platter.
“Thom’s learning to be a French chef,” said Emma. “That’s his passion. He’s using his mother’s old cookbook. It’s called Mastering the Art of French Cooking, and it’s by a famous person named Julia Child. Thom’s going to be famous too.” Emma turned to Thom. “Hey! Maybe you can come to New York too. Work at the Ritz or someplace.”
Thom turned on an electric mixer. “I’m making meringue,” he shouted over the roar. He lifted dollops of drippy white goo from his bowl with a spoon. “Do these look like stiff peaks to you?”
Emma seemed doubtful. She studied the huge cookbook lying open to a page smattered with chocolate. “Did you remember that the eggs had to be room temperature?”
There was a short silence.
“It also says to use –”
“I think they’re stiff enough,” said Thom tersely. “I’m supposed to dribble boiling syrup in this, but I don’t have any. So this will have to do.” He spread the runny meringue over the cake, which Will thought had sunk at least two inches in the last minute. Then he cut them each a slice.
He looked at Emma anxiously. “Well?”
“Delicious!” declared Emma, her mouth full of cake.
“It’s called a French word.” Thom spelled it out. “Le Glorieux. That’s gotta mean a glorious cake.”
It is a glorious cake, thought Will. Sticky, sweet, gooey in the middle and very chocolatey. “Scrumptious,” he told Thom.
“I’ll clean this up later,” said Thom, looking pleased. “I just want to give Dad a piece. Then we can go to the castle.”
“Thom’s mum died when he was a baby and his dad can’t walk and is in a wheelchair and he sleeps a lot because of headaches,” Emma explained when Thom had gone.
Will thought about the long flight of stairs. “What does he do when he wants to go out?”
“Someone has to carry him down the stairs. Mum says he should move somewhere else, but he’s lived here all his life.”
“Come on,” said Thom, who was back. “Let’s go.”
Peaches was lying on his tummy on the tile floor at the bottom of the stairs. He thumped his tail when he saw Thom, but he didn’t get up. Thom stroked the dog’s head. “What happened to Peaches? He’s so upset.”
“He ran into that horrible man from the castle,” said Emma. “Peaches bit him on the leg, and Mr. Cherry tried to hit him with a book. Peaches despises him.”
“Poor old buddy,” said Thom.
“When Thom’s near an animal, he feels the animal’s emotions,” said Emma. “It’s like a special power. It’s because he’s a Fairweather. It runs in his family.”
“It doesn’t happen to all Fairweathers,” said Thom. “It doesn’t happen to Dad.”
“That must be very cool,” said Will.
“Not always,” said Thom. “When I volunteered at the animal shelter, I took on the feelings of all the sad dogs. I nearly passed out. It was more than I could stand. I had to leave.”
Thom ruffled Peaches’ ears and the dog sat up. “He’s okay now,” said Thom.
With Peaches at their heels, they climbed up Black Penny Road.
“So,” said Emma, “do you think you’re going to like living in a castle? Has anyone told you about the curse yet?”
“What curse?” asked Will. It was hard to keep up with Emma.
“A lot of old people say that a griffin put a curse on the castle,” Thom explained. “Hundreds of years ago.”
“A griffin!” gasped Will. He thought of the words on his scrap of cloth. The Griffin of Darkwood.
“Bad things have happened in this village,” said Emma. “A girl died. My grandmother, Granny Storm, even knew her.”
“She was related to my dad,” said Thom. “She was his dad’s cousin, I think.”
Will felt cold. “The girl. Did she die in the round tower?”
Thom and Emma stared at him. “I don’t know,” said Emma. “Why?”
“That’s where I’m sleeping. And I had this awful dream. Someone kept saying ‘The child is very ill.’ I saw blood, too and I heard someone say ‘Traitor!’ Favian Longstaff had a friend called Hannah Linley who slept in the tower forty years ago. But he didn’t say anything about her dying.”
“There was a murder too,” said Thom. “That’s what all the old people say. No one knows who. It happened hundreds of years ago.”
“And the castle’s haunted,” said Will. “I’ve already seen a ghost called Cookie, and I heard a boy crying!”
“Haunted!” said Thom. “Oh, man!”
They rounded the bend in the road and the ancient castle loomed before them. They stood still and stared at it.
“It was boarded up until two weeks ago,” said Emma. “That’s when those creepy servants came.”
Ke-ke-ke-ke. They looked up at two birds circling the tower. “Sparrowhawks,” said Thom.
“I thought so,” said Will. “They were there last night.”
Flap, flap, flap, glide. One of the sparrowhawks swooped down into the long grass and came back up with a limp body hanging in its mouth.
“It’s caught a starling.” Thom sounded shaky. “I know it’s nature, but I never like to see it.” He sighed. “Sometimes it’s depressing being me.”
“Let’s go inside!” Emma burst out. “I want to see the tower first.”
Chapter Nine
Exploring the Castle
Will led
the way into the castle.
“I really hate that thing,” said Thom, gazing uneasily at the stone creature hovering above them. “What’s it supposed to be, anyway?”
“I don’t really know,” said Will. “It gives me the creeps.”
Emma and Thom were shocked at the words GO AWAY sprayed on the door.
“People hate us, and I don't get why,” said Will.
“My granny says –” began Emma, and then she clamped her mouth shut.
“What?’ demanded Will.
“Nothing.”
They climbed up the steep spiral stairs to the tower and Will put his books on the round table.
“Sparrowhawks,” said Thom, looking up at the row of glaring faces carved in stone. “There must be a hundred! How can you sleep with them staring at you?”
“I like them,” said Will.
They peered out the deep narrow windows. Then they climbed through the trap door onto the roof, leaving Peaches in the middle of the bed. “Hooo-wooo-hoo,” he howled. A sparrowhawk swooped off the parapet with raucous cries and circled in the distance. Ke-ke-ke.
“Most of the castle is just a big ruin,” said Thom. “Look at that big square tower. It’s almost buried.”
“That’s the keep,” said Will. “The great hall’s in there, but you can’t get in. The doors are behind all that rock.”
“Hey, you can see my building!” said Thom.
“You can’t see my house,” said Emma. “It’s hidden behind that church. It used to be an old apple barn.”
Thom walked over to the other side. “You sure get a good view of the forest from up here. No one ever goes in there. Not even hunters.”
“Why not?” asked Will.
“The curse,” said Emma. “Everyone’s afraid.”
Will stared at the forest. Dark trees crowded together. You wouldn’t be able to see the sun in there, he thought. A glimmer of an idea stirred inside him. What if…
No, no, NO! He had given up on writing. He spotted the Muses, standing between the trees at the edge of the forest. He glared at them and they faded away.
“Did you see anyone?” he asked Thom and Emma.
“No,” they both answered.
Peaches barked. One by one, they lowered themselves back through the trap door and down onto the bed, where Peaches greeted them with rapturous licks. Thom and Will jumped to the floor and Emma somersaulted off.
“How is Peaches’ training going?” asked Thom.
“Watch this!” said Emma.
She stood in front of her dog. Peaches braced his front feet and grinned.
“Sit!”
Peaches wagged his tail.
“I said SIT!”
Peaches flopped down on his side and stuck his shaggy paws in the air.
“STAY!”
Peaches sprang up and raced in a circle, barking. Then he leapt up and put his feet on Emma’s chest. “Idiot!” she said.
They spent the next hour exploring the castle. On Emma’s suggestion, they had a wild game of hide-and-seek, squeezing in and out of dusty nooks and crannies in the maze of rooms and passageways. Emma made up all the rules. You couldn’t actually hide inside anything, like a cupboard or a wardrobe, and you had to give yourself up after ten minutes. They finally collapsed on an old velvet couch that gave off a puff of grey dust.
“Has anyone seen Peaches?” asked Emma.
No one had. The dog had vanished. Emma chewed her lip. “That could mean trouble. We better find him.”
“Peaches! Peaches!” they hollered up and down the passageways.
Peaches bounded around a shadowy corner with a silky purple cloud trailing from his mouth.
“Aunt Mauve’s nightgown,” said Will, inspecting it.
Emma pounced. “Got it!” There was a ripping sound.
“Hoo-whoo-hoo,” howled Peaches. And then his howl turned into a sharp bark. “RUFF!”
A figure suddenly appeared at the end of another dark passageway. Emma shrieked.
“Aunt Mauve!” said Will, staring. “Are you all right?”
Aunt Mauve’s eyes were glazed and her lips were blue. She was wrapped up in a tattered pink bathrobe.
Emma stuffed the purple nightgown behind her back.
“These are my friends, Thom and Emma,” said Will.
“I don’t care if they’re the King and Queen of Siam!” blazed Aunt Mauve. “I can’t find my bedroom!”
A roller in her hair sprang loose and landed on Emma’s sneaker. She screamed and flung it off. Aunt Mauve shot her an icy look. Then she glared at Will. “Stop gawking and tell me how to get back to the Red Chamber.”
“You’re in the wrong part of the castle.” Will pointed down a narrow passageway. “You’ve got to go that way.”
When she had gone, Emma said, “That was your aunt? She’s a horror!”
“Forget about her,” said Will. “Come on. I’m starving! Let’s go to the kitchen and see if we can find something to eat.”
“Is this where you saw that ghost?” asked Thom as they made their way down the back passageway.
“Ooooo-oooo-ooooo,” said Emma.
“Shut up,” muttered Thom.
The kitchen was empty and the fire in the fireplace had died. Pots and pans were stacked untidily in the sink, and grease had congealed in a big black frying pan on the stove.
“I smell bacon and eggs,” said Thom.
They opened and closed cupboard doors, finding only a few cans of vegetables and a sack of oatmeal.
Thom frowned. “I wonder where she keeps all her baking supplies.”
“Trust me, she’s not the baking type.” Will rattled the door of a long tall cupboard. “Locked. That’s where all the good stuff to eat is, I bet.”
A door at the far end of the kitchen was partly open. Will peeked around it into a little sitting room with a shiny green couch, two shabby armchairs and an old TV.
“This must be where the Cherrys live,” Will said over his shoulder.
“Don’t go in,” said Thom.
Will ignored him and took a step into the room. Behind the couch was another door, this one closed. He heard a murmur of voices. That must be their bedroom, he thought.
The book from the bookstore, Castle Construction and Design, lay on a small table. Will recognized it right away. There was a scrap of paper sticking out of it as if it marked a place. What was Mr. Cherry looking for?
The voices behind the door rose higher, but Will couldn’t make out any words. He took a chance. He darted right into the room and flipped open the book to the marker. At the top of the page was a chapter heading that said Secret Passages. He scanned the first few sentences.
What medieval castle was complete without a secret passage? Some secret passages led to the exterior of the castle to allow the lord to slip out without his enemies knowing he had escaped. Others were used to bring supplies in and out during a siege or led to underground supplies of water –
“I told you!” shouted Mr. Cherry from behind the door. Will froze. “Purvis Sneed was there when they found the Linley girl. He heard her story.”
Purvis Sneed, thought Will. The bus driver!
“It was forty years ago,” said Mrs. Cherry. “How could he remember?”
“I need a few more days! I’ll find a way in.”
“It’s getting too risky! That boy is snooping –”
“I’ll get rid of the boy!” snarled Mr. Cherry.
“Just don’t do anything stupid.”
Heavy footsteps approached the door. Will turned and fled back into the kitchen. “We’re outa here!” he hissed.
They sped up the sloping passageway, through the entrance hall and outside the castle. Raindrops splashed on the ground.
“What happened?” asked Thom.
“The Cherrys were in there. They were talking about Purvis Sneed and a girl. Mr. Cherry said she was a Linley. It might be the girl who died. Mr. Cherry said Purvis Sneed was there when they found her, whatever
that means.”
He told them about the book and the chapter titled Secret Passages. “He said he’ll find a way in. I saw him tapping on a wall in the dining room with a hammer. He’s gotta be looking for a secret passage. That’s the only thing I can think of.”
“Then we’ll look too!” said Emma, her dark eyes sparkling.
“Now?” Thom looked alarmed.
“Why not?”
“I thought you were supposed to be working at your granny’s shop today,” said Thom.
Emma yelped. “You’re right! And I’m late again! Dad is going to kill me! Please, please, please wait until tomorrow before you start looking.”
Will looked at Thom.
“Be fair,” wailed Emma. “It was my idea.”
“Okay,” said Will. It was hard to wait, but it would be way more fun with Emma.
“Let’s meet at Thom's tomorrow morning," said Emma.
“Not too early,” said Thom. “I’m making Cherry Tart Flambé tomorrow. You light it on fire. It’s going to be mega-cool!” He turned to Will. “You could come to my place now, for lunch if you want.”
“Sure!” Will was famished.
The rain pelted down as they raced along Black Penny Road, Peaches leaping puddles and barking wildly. Just before they rounded the bend, Will glanced back at the gloomy castle. He shuddered when he thought of Mr. Cherry’s icy words.
I’ll get rid of the boy.
Chapter Ten
Lantern Lane
Thom made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch with slices of the glorious chocolate cake for dessert.
“I’m eating only pb and j sandwiches and French desserts for a whole year. I’m on my fifth month now,” he said.
“Are you kidding me?” said Will. “Peanut butter and jelly? Couldn’t you at least have picked something like pizza or cheese burgers?’
“It’s an experiment to see if I can last. Anyway, I love peanut butter,” said Thom. “It’s very nutritious.”
“Do you know how weird that sounds?”
“So? It’s fast and it’s cheap. Dad and I don’t have a lot of money.”
“And your dad lets you do this?”
“Yep. Dad took me to the doctor and he said it’s fine with him as long as I have three carrots and a glass of milk every day.”
