The Vulture of Sommerset

by Stephen M. Giles

  ‘Dr Mangrove,’ challenged Milo, waving Captain Bloom’s journal at Adele, ‘has come back to Sommerset and he’s kidnapped Aunt Rosemary? That’s insane!’

  He stopped in front of the fireplace, its ginger flames throwing shadows across his face, and Adele was suddenly very afraid that he would hurl the journal into the fire. She moved quickly, pulling the book from his hand.

  ‘No, Milo,’ said Adele calmly, ‘it’s not insane. Dr Mangrove is here and he is the kidnapper.’

  ‘Why, because you say so?’

  ‘Because reason says so.’ Adele walked around her cousin and mounted the spiral staircase heading up to the library’s second floor (where she intended to lock the captain’s journal away for safekeeping).

  ‘Guessing isn’t the same as reasoning,’ argued Milo, following his cousin up the stairs. ‘It’s like I told you before, Adele, you have too much faith in a bunch of old papers. There is nothing in that journal to prove that Dr Mangrove had anything to do with Aunt Rosemary’s kidnapping.’

  ‘There is proof,’ declared Adele firmly. ‘You just don’t want to see it.’

  ‘Must we keep talking about that fat-faced freak!’ moaned Isabella, sitting with her legs crossed on Thorn’s back. ‘Dr Mangrove is bonkers and I find talking about evil geniuses unbearable. To make matters worse, I’m dreadfully hungry.’ Without warning Isabella raised her voice several decibels and began to holler. ‘Hannah! Hannah Spoon, where are you?’

  While the bickering raged on upstairs, Isabella blocked her ears until Hannah Spoon came rushing into the library. She looked like a startled rabbit. ‘You called, miss?’ she said breathlessly.

  ‘Oh, Hannah, my stomach is in knots,’ complained Isabella, running a finger over the ridges of Thorn’s back. ‘Be a dear and fetch me a slice of vanilla cake with passionfruit icing. It’s the only remedy.’

  ‘But miss, we don’t have any vanilla cake left,’ said Hannah. ‘You had the last slice for dessert last night.’

  ‘Well, surely you can bake a new one!’ snapped Isabella. ‘Can’t you see that I am suffering? I’ve had the most shocking news and my head is spinning.’

  Hannah’s eyes widened. ‘Shocking news, miss?’

  ‘The worst kind!’ said Isabella dramatically. ‘Now run along, I don’t think I shall last the day if I don’t get at least one slice of vanilla cake with passionfruit icing. Besides, after ruining my dinner party with the duchess, it’s the least you can do.’

  ‘All right, miss,’ said Hannah, blushing with shame as she hurried from the library. ‘I’ll do my best.’

  ‘Do hurry, dear,’ cried Isabella for good measure, ‘I’m fading fast!’

  Up on the second floor Adele placed the captain’s journal in the oak box and locked it, sliding the key back into her pocket. ‘Maybe we should talk about this later,’ she said wearily. ‘After you’ve had some time to think.’

  ‘I won’t change my mind, Adele,’ he said crossly. ‘Aunt Rosemary’s kidnapper could be anyone. You just want it to be Mangrove, that’s all.’

  Adele glared at Milo sharply. He was being a jerk! But when she looked at him, really looked at him, the fury fell away and she saw the fear swirling in his eyes.

  In her rush to share what she had learned from the journal it had never occurred to her that Milo might react angrily or challenge what was so plainly and awfully true. How stupid she had been! Out of all of them, no-one had more to fear from Dr Mangrove coming back than Milo. He refused to believe it because he didn’t want it to be true.

  ‘I know you’re scared,’ she said softly, ‘and I don’t blame you – but you have to face this, Milo. Burying your head in the sand is not the answer.’

  He shook his head, his fingers tangled together. ‘I’m not scared. I just think you’re wrong.’

  ‘All right,’ said Adele, sitting down at her desk, ‘instead of fighting about what we don’t agree on, let’s make a list of everything we do agree on.’ She looked up at her cousin. ‘Okay, Milo?’

  Milo hesitated for a moment, biting on his fingernails and looking around as if he was lost. Then he gave in, pulling up a chair next to his cousin.

  Pushing several huge atlases out of the way, Adele grabbed a sheet of paper from the drawer and wrote a heading at the top of the page: Things We Know For Sure. She looked at Milo, waiting for him to begin.

  ‘Well,’ he said softly, ‘we agree that Sommerset House has a hidden room and we agree that Aunt Rosemary is probably being held there.’

  ‘Good,’ said Adele, writing it down. ‘We also agree that the kidnapper wants the Vulture of Sommerset in return for Aunt Rosemary, correct?’

  Milo nodded. ‘Of course.’

  ‘So,’ said Adele carefully, scribbling down the last point, ‘do you agree that the statue is connected to the secret room?’

  ‘Well . . .’ He shifted about uncomfortably.

  ‘The captain’s journal spells it out, Milo,’ explained Adele gently, not wanting to push too hard. ‘The Vulture of Sommerset is somehow connected to the locked vault where Captain Bloom hid the Lazarus Rock and the map of the Valley of Brume. That vault is somewhere in the secret room and Captain Bloom was determined that Dr Mangrove wouldn’t be able to open it and retrieve the map.’

  ‘Okay,’ Milo admitted with a shrug, ‘Bloom did say that the Vulture was the only way to unlock the vault. But that doesn’t mean Dr Mangrove kidnapped Aunt Rosemary.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ said Adele, ‘but the rest of the facts make it hard to come to any other conclusion. First, Dr Mangrove has a history of kidnapping. He kidnapped the chambermaid Abigail O’Rourke in broad daylight while she was working in the entrance hall. That is exactly where Aunt Rosemary vanished from. Secondly, if we both agree that Aunt Rosemary is being held in the secret room, how can we ignore the fact that the only person alive today who would know its location is Dr Mangrove?’

  Milo did not reply. He lowered his head, his eyes dropping to the ground.

  ‘Mangrove needs the Vulture in order to open the vault,’ said Adele. ‘Captain Bloom said that without the statue, the vault is impenetrable. Don’t you see, Milo, that’s the reason Aunt Rosemary is gone. Dr Mangrove has no idea where the Vulture of Sommerset is hidden. So he has snatched Aunt Rosemary to force us to find it for him.’

  ‘But why now?’ cried the boy. ‘Why would he risk coming back to Sommerset after what happened with Uncle Silas?’

  ‘It’s revenge, isn’t it?’ cried Isabella, her blue eyes spilling over. She was standing at the top of the spiral staircase, pale and terrified. ‘Oh, don’t tell me, Cousin; I am sure I can guess. That awful moon-headed villain has come back to avenge the death of Uncle Silas. He hates us because we turned his friend into dust!’

  ‘He has come back,’ said Adele simply, ‘because he has run out of time. In the journal Captain Bloom said that Dr Mangrove had enough of the Panacea to last a century. That was in 1871. Even if he were able to stretch his supply somehow, Mangrove must be running low by now. The Panacea is the only thing keeping him alive, and the only way to get more is to locate the one place in the world were it grows – the Valley of Brume. And to do that he needs the map, and to get at the map he needs the Vulture. He is desperate and out of time and that’s what makes him so dangerous.’

  ‘So this whole thing is about getting hold of a map?’ said Isabella with a disbelieving frown.

  Adele nodded. ‘Yes, I think it is.’

  ‘Where is the Valley of Brume?’ asked Milo softly.

  ‘Somewhere in the jungles of Budatta,’ explained Adele, grabbing one of the atlases and opening it. ‘Captain Bloom is careful never to reveal much about the valley’s location. I only know that it is about thirty kilometres from an ancient monastery.’ She pointed to the small nose-shaped country which bordered Trangara. ‘The jungles are some of the most savage in all the world and cover over half the country. Finding the Panacea without the map would be impossible.’ Adele looked at her cousin, who
had yet to raise his head. ‘Well, Milo, what do you think?’

  ‘Uncle Silas told me he would come back,’ whispered the boy, ‘and he was right. I’ve been trying to convince myself this wasn’t really happening . . . but it is.’

  ‘No, Milo,’ said Adele urgently, ‘Dr Mangrove wants the Panacea so that he can cheat death. So he can live. This is not about Uncle Silas.’

  ‘I should hope not!’ snapped Isabella. ‘He is dead, after all.’

  ‘Mangrove took his ashes,’ said Milo, his face pale and cold. ‘He ran off with them, or have you both forgotten that? If he gets hold of that map, Uncle Silas will live again.’

  ‘What!’ Isabella looked utterly petrified.

  ‘Milo,’ said Adele, ‘surely you don’t believe that Dr Mangrove can raise the dead?’

  ‘He can,’ said Milo tensely. ‘It’s all there in your favourite journal, Adele. The elixir that Dr Mangrove used to fuel the Soul Chamber was made from the petals of the Phoenix Rose. That rose grew from seeds that Mangrove engineered using the Panacea. Don’t you see? Once that madman has the Panacea, Uncle Silas is coming back.’

  ‘But we destroyed the Soul Chamber,’ said Isabella hopefully.

  ‘Mangrove will build another one,’ said Milo. ‘He would find a way. Then all he needs is a new home for Uncle Silas’s soul.’ A shiver rushed up his spine. ‘And we all know who he will come after for that.’

  ‘Who?’ barked Isabella, her hands hovering over her face. ‘Not me; oh, please don’t say he wants me! I’m much too pretty to be possessed by that ghastly old bag of bones!’

  ‘He wants me,’ said Milo flatly.

  ‘Oh.’ Suddenly Isabella felt silly and rather cruel. ‘Cousin, you don’t know that for sure. Uncle Silas might wish to steal a different body this time; someone slightly taller, for example.’

  ‘Children, where are you? Oh, mercy! Children!’

  Down on the ground floor Mrs Hammer was sobbing loudly, a handkerchief thrust to her crooked nose. She rushed through the endless labyrinth of book-lined shelves looking for any sign of the Winterbottoms. Thorn, who was lying before the open fire, opened his wet green eyes and growled at the old woman before settling back to sleep.

  ‘Wherever can they be?’ she cried, her heavy jowls flapping like a hound dog’s. ‘Oh, mercy, not kidnapped too! My heart won’t stand it!’

  The children raced down the narrow staircase and caught Mrs Hammer coming around the corner.

  ‘Oh, thank the lord!’ the old housekeeper said. ‘I was starting to fear the worst!’

  ‘We were upstairs,’ explained Milo, handing Mrs Hammer a fresh handkerchief which she gratefully accepted, mopping up the tears under her puffy eyes.

  ‘What’s happened, Mrs Hammer?’ said Adele, reaching out and holding the housekeeper’s tremulous hand. ‘Why aren’t you in bed like the doctor ordered?’

  ‘Levi,’ she sobbed. ‘He’s been taken, just like your aunt.’

  ‘Taken?’ gasped Adele.

  The children looked at one another, exchanging similar bug-eyed glances. They could hardly believe it. In fact, not all of them did.

  ‘Are you sure?’ said Isabella doubtfully. ‘Perhaps you just overlooked him, Mrs Hammer. After all, Levi is a dwarf and you were recently bashed in the head.’

  ‘My eyes work perfectly fine, miss,’ declared Mrs Hammer proudly. ‘But about Levi, I’m afraid there is no mistake.’

  Mrs Hammer dug into the pocket of her white apron and pulled out Levi’s pocket watch and a folded note the colour of pitch. The Winterbottoms were utterly still; it was as if she had pulled death from her pocket and offered it around for the tasting.

  ‘Florence Puddle found these hanging from the banister on the third-floor landing.’

  It was Milo who reached out and took the black note. He unfolded the page quickly, as if to prove to himself and his cousins that he would not be cowed by its dark promise.

  ‘Read it,’ said Adele softly.

  Milo took a deep breath and began.

  Dear Winterbottoms,

  I’m sorry to leave you without a head butler, but I’m afraid he was getting on my nerves. Poor Levi believed he could outsmart me and now he is paying the price. You have less than two days to find the Vulture of Sommerset. Fail and you will have the blood of two on your hands. By the way, your Aunt Rosemary is starting to doubt whether she will ever see the sun again. She cries a great deal of the time, which is music to my ears. As ever, dear Winterbottoms, the choice is yours.

  Will they live or will they die?

  THE HALL OF MIRRORS

  The soft spray of light from a quarter-moon washed through the glass dome, casting the elevator in a silvery glow as it dropped silently to the ground floor. Parting like a curtain the gold and silver bars opened and a girl swept from the gilded cage, her white silk robe fluttering behind her like a cape. It was nearly midnight and Isabella Winterbottom was on a mission for peach pie and ice-cream – and perhaps a cup of hot chocolate. Anything but another slice of Hannah’s ghastly vanilla cake with passionfruit icing. What a mistake that had been!

  The day had been long and brutal: first the revelation that Dr Mangrove was the kidnapper, and then the awful news of Levi’s capture. One kidnapping was bad enough but two? It was starting to feel as if Sommerset was a cursed place. Isabella and her cousins had spent the afternoon and long into the night going back through the maze of tunnels in the basement hunting for the Vulture of Sommerset. The entire mansion had already been searched from top to bottom several times over, but what else could they do but go back and look again . . . and again?

  The stone floor felt cool under her bare feet as she crossed the vast hall. Tomorrow after breakfast she was going riding with her father – he had promised – and the thought of finally showing him her favourite little pockets of Sommerset made her smile. As she passed under the vaulted arch at the end of the hall and drew nearer to the kitchen, Isabella’s mind drifted to freshly baked peaches and caramel ice-cream. She was imagining that first delicious bite when a hand curled around her mouth and pulled her into a dark corner of the great hall. ‘Shhh! It’s only me!’ Adele whispered in her ear. ‘Someone’s coming.’

  Isabella stared unblinking from the shadows and saw the figure of a stout man slinking under the archway. She gasped and her cousin’s hand flew across her mouth again. The figure spun around, staring into the nook where they where cowering. The girls held their breath, pressing tightly into the dark corner. They dared not move a muscle. As each second ticked away the fear wrapped around them like a noose – all he had to do was reach out and he would discover them. Then he stepped forward, his shoes hitting the stone floor with a snap. Isabella closed her eyes. They were done for! Then came more steps . . . but this time in retreat. When Isabella opened her eyes again she saw the man’s shadow sliding down the hallway towards the east wing.

  ‘It must be Dr Mangrove!’ she hissed, too frightened to move from the safety of the veiled corner.

  ‘No,’ whispered Adele, ‘I caught a glimpse of hair on his head, and we both know that Dr Mangrove is as bald as a badger.’

  ‘Oh, Cousin, what should we do?’

  Adele stepped from the shadows and peered carefully down the long east corridor.

  ‘We follow him,’ she whispered.

  While the intruder remained hidden in the black folds of night strewn along the hallway, his shadow was hard to miss as it glided over the floor like a moving carpet. They waited at the top of the hall until they were certain it was safe to move, then set off, tiptoeing after him.

  ‘Wait,’ whispered Isabella as they passed the morning room door. She reached down and picked up a brass doorstop shaped like a bell, gripping it tightly in her hand.

  ‘Good idea,’ said Adele.

  They set off again, inching their way carefully down the corridor. The east wing was home to the two largest rooms in the mansion – the ballroom and the hall of mirrors. Adele was certain she had seen th
e intruder veer towards the left, which would suggest he had entered the hall of mirrors. But why? The hall sat empty and had been searched countless times. There was nothing of interest to attract a thief . . . or a kidnapper.

  When at last they reached the hall they found the thick oak doors parted just a crack. Adele crouched beneath Isabella and together they peered into the dark room, their eyes hungrily seeking out the pockets of pale moonlight for any sign of the intruder. Nothing moved and no sound betrayed the villain. If he was in there, he was keeping it to himself. Then a flash of light flared inside the hall like a lightning strike.

  ‘What was that?’ hissed Isabella.

  ‘I . . . I’m not sure,’ whispered her cousin.

  The hall of mirrors had nearly the same dimensions as the ballroom; it was a vast, lonely place which got its name from the twenty-six gigantic mirrors that ran the length of the western wall, each mirrored panel reflecting a matching set of French doors that looked out on the parterre. Two sets of eyes swept over the hall, frantically looking for any sign of life. It was Adele who found it – the black figure darting between the pools of darkness in a far corner of the room. She motioned to her cousin and Isabella firmed her grip on the doorstop, tracking the villain as he edged away from the safety of the shadows, passing quickly across the hall. He stopped in the very centre of the room and appeared to reach inside his coat.

  ‘He’s got a gun!’ whispered Isabella anxiously.

  Adele wasn’t certain what it was, but she knew they must act before they lost the advantage of a surprise attack. ‘Are you ready, Isabella?’

  ‘Yes, Cousin,’ said Isabella, though she sounded far from keen.

  Adele took a breath and then threw open the great oak doors. The girls stormed into the hall of mirrors like two soldiers making a raid on enemy territory. Adele’s face was tense, her eyes fierce and battle-hungry as she raced towards the figure. Isabella, on the other hand, was slightly less brave. She was certainly holding up the doorstop like a girl on the attack, but she was doing it from the safety of the back wall. In truth, she was madly looking for the light switch, deciding rather sensibly that beating the villain about the head would be far easier with the lights on.