The Dead World of Lanthorne Ghules

by Gerald Killingworth

  Swarme had led them into a trap and Lanthorne knew nothing about it. That was clear. Unfortunately, nothing else was. Edwin could feel panic setting in. He removed his backpack and took the lighter out of his pocket. He flicked it on for long enough to see what was in the room, but apart from a low stool and a small unlit lanthorne on a shelf, there was nothing. Perhaps Auntie Necra regularly took prisoners, and this was where she kept them. He couldn’t make use of the lanthorne, because that would let them know he had the lighter and he couldn’t risk losing it. All he could do was to sit down on the stool and wait.

  They can’t leave me in here for ever.

  Yes they could. They could let me starve to death and invite all their friends in Morting for a share of Special Menu.

  If I starved to death, there wouldn’t be much left of me to eat. That means they won’t leave me in here for ever.

  Edwin needed to be prepared. He stood up and tried waving the stool about. It was certainly lighter than the meat cleaver he thought of using back at the inne, but it made an awkward weapon and he doubted whether he could wield it effectively. Still, it would feel very satisfying just trying to wallop the treacherous Swarme and the vile Auntie Necra with it.

  They must have been reading Edwin’s mind, because when they finally appeared, each was carrying a heavy stick as well as a lanthorne.

  “Stand back against the wall, little boy,” said Auntie Necra. Edwin had caught a glimpse of her when he escaped through Jugge’s front door, but now he had time to look the woman up and down. Although her lanthorne threw an elongated shadow behind her, she was quite little, which surprised Edwin. He thought he remembered her as tall and spiky, the kind of wicked person who looms over her victims and is prone to mad cackles. The fact that she was shorter than he was strengthened his defiance. Just let her try leaving pinch marks on his arms, the way she did with Lanthorne, her own nephew.

  Auntie Necra was wearing a long brown skirt with stockings and boots of the same colour, and a muddy-brown and shapeless cardigan. Edwin wasn’t taken in for a second by her silly old granny outfit, but at least she wasn’t decorated with bloodstains. Her face was the customary grey, her eyes and lips dark and her hair was vertical as well as unevenly cut. Everyone had hair like this, so it was either what Nature intended, or the country’s only hairdresser was a madman.

  Auntie Necra breathed in and prepared to say something, but Edwin got his insults in first.

  “You arsing cow!” he yelled. “You’re both arsing cows!” He moved forward menacingly and the two sticks were immediately raised. Swarme and his auntie looked as if they knew how to use them.

  “So sorry we didn’t light the lanthorne for you,” said Auntie Necra. There was an edge to her voice Edwin found very disturbing. It was like the sort of voice that might enjoy saying things like, “That must hurt a lot.”

  “He’s a proper little Shiner, isn’t he, Swarmie? Much brighter than the baby.”

  Edwin came out with more insults, expressions he was reluctant to use even at school.

  “No supper for him, I think,” said Auntie Necra, as if Edwin was the one who was in the wrong. “Shall we let him have a bed?”

  “Not sure he deserves it, Auntie.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  Edwin dredged up the filthiest words he could remember and shouted them all several times. He was shocked at himself.

  “Someone we know is going to have to learn to be much more polite,” said Auntie Necra. “We’ll see if he’s a nicer boy in the morning.”

  “I hope he’s not afraid of the pitch dark, Auntie,” Swarme added.

  They were so taken with their little jokes, they didn’t think of confiscating Edwin’s backpack or searching his pockets. They were still giggling as they left.

  Edwin sat on the floor for a while and took stock. Auntie Necra and Swarme weren’t likely to bother him until the morning, so he could safely light the lanthorne for a while and sort out a kind of bed for himself. If there were going to be fights tomorrow, he needed to catch up on more of his lost sleep.

  He chose a spot as far away from the door as possible for his bed and had no option but to lie directly on the floor in his anorak, with his backpack as his pillow and his coat as his blanket. He ate his last two remaining cheese triangles, which meant there were none left for Mandoline if he had to feed her on the run.

  A cold, hungry, uncomfortable and miserable night lay ahead, but he had heard Mandoline crying and that made up for a lot.

  16

  Auntie Necra

  Edwin slept in lots of little bursts. He kept waking to find himself in uncomfortable positions, with his shoulder or knee aching from being in contact with the same spot on the stone floor for too long. In the middle of the night, he was embarrassed at having to wee in a corner of the room because he was so desperate.

  The room turned out to have a small window which let in a dreary, underwater kind of light that told Edwin it was morning. When Swarme burst in, Edwin was so stiff that the older boy was obliged to wait for him to struggle to his feet.

  “You’ve been busy, I see,” said Swarme, looking sneeringly at the trickle of wee which had run halfway across the room.

  “At least I don’t eat people. You’re disgusting. And your hair looks as if it’s made of old scrubbing brushes.”

  So much for his resolution not to shout any more, in case it made them even nastier.

  “You do love your rude words, don’t you?” said Swarme. “You’d be a terrible influence on my little brother. That’s if we ever let you talk to him again. But where you’ll soon be going, that’ll never happen.”

  Edwin flexed his legs and shook his arms. He was loose enough now to pick up the stool or try to strangle Swarme with the straps of his backpack.

  “You’re so shiny, I can see exactly what you’re thinking,” Swarme said. “Your face is a complete giveaway.” He pushed the stool away from Edwin, with the stick he’d taken the precaution of bringing with him. He prodded the backpack.

  “Leave that alone,” said Edwin.

  “Full of precious things, is it?”

  “Dried milk for my sister. So keep your hands off.”

  “Necra wants a word. If you’re really polite, she might even share some of her plans with you.” Swarme tapped the side of his extraordinarily thin nose, which bent slightly with each tap. “Don’t you just love plans?”

  Edwin dreaded the idea of Auntie Necra’s plans, and he wished he could take a fierce grip of Swarme’s nose and twist it permanently out of shape, or right off. He forced himself to remain calm. The main thing was to check that Mandoline was safe and not starving or being kept somewhere filthy. He quickly put his coat on and picked up the backpack. Swarme directed him out of the room and through the house to the main living room, where Auntie Necra was waiting. There was no sign of Lanthorne. Edwin didn’t make difficulties or swear, but Swarme felt the need to rap him on the head with his stick a few times, just to make a point.

  “Here he is,” said Auntie Necra. “Did you sleep well?”

  Edwin refused to answer.

  “What’s the matter? Cook got your tongue?” Auntie Necra and Swarme shrieked with laughter.

  “Give me back my sister.”

  “Do have a seat, dear. You’ll tire yourself out.”

  Swarme used his stick to push Edwin onto a rickety chair, while Auntie Necra made herself comfortable on a crude piece of furniture draped with a couple of blankets. The state of the room shocked Edwin, but it obviously suited Auntie Necra and Swarme. Cobwebs hung everywhere, some so heavy with old dust they looked like strings of dirty washing. Dust balls littered the floor in place of a carpet and, fanned out around Auntie Necra’s chair, were the plates from which she must have eaten meals before she went to stay with Lanthorne’s family. The air in the room had a sharp, stale tang, and woven into it was the telltale signature of the Special Menu. Any baby left in that atmosphere wouldn’t survive for long.

&nbs
p; Edwin couldn’t judge whether Auntie Necra had dressed up or down for him. She had on a long grey dress decorated with smears and a pair of non-matching slippers that were threadbare and down-at-heel. Around her shoulders was a square of grey blanket which served as a shawl but which could just as easily have been used to wipe a dirty floor. There was possibly a flower in her hair, but Edwin stopped looking at it when it appeared to move.

  “Shall I bind him hand and foot, Auntie?”

  “Only his hands for the moment, Swarmie.”

  Swarme took a length of thin rope and tied Edwin to his chair, taking great trouble with the knots. Edwin put up a slight struggle, but decided he would go along with whatever they planned. If he looked crushed and obedient, they might let him see Mandoline and check that she was all right.

  “I’ve always dreamt of having a little Shiner in the house, and now I find myself with two,” said Auntie Necra. “You won’t be around for much longer, but I’ve got spectacular plans for my shiny little princess.”

  “Spec-tac-u-lar…” added Swarme, with the most gloating sneer Edwin could have imagined.

  “In the short time before you leave us,” Auntie Necra went on, “you might as well make yourself useful. I’d welcome your advice on feeding your sister.”

  Edwin hated to think what they had been feeding Mandoline up to now. How dare this evil old bag call Mandoline hers? To help him control the whirlwind of rage he felt surging inside, he drew in a deep breath of the smelly air.

  “My mum’s shown me how to prepare a baby’s bottle,” he lied, hoping the instructions on the tin of dried milk were clear. “Her bottle will need sterilizing.” He was pretty sure this was true.

  Auntie Necra snorted. “How any child can survive on that revolting, unripe stuff you force down their throats, I’ll never understand.”

  “Re-vol-ting,” put in Swarme. “She’s going to love real food when the time comes.”

  Edwin refused to be thrown off course by Swarme’s taunting. “I don’t think the dried milk will last very long,” he said. “I’ll need to go home and fetch some more.”

  This was a daft thing to say, worse than daft. Edwin knew it at once. Swarme sniggered. He rapped Edwin on the back of the head with his stick. “There’s only one place you’re going, and it isn’t home,” he said. “Aren’t I right, Auntie?”

  The horrible pair shared a chuckle at Edwin’s expense.

  “Please don’t kill me,” he whispered.

  Auntie Necra and Swarme looked extremely offended by this remark.

  “What sort of people do you take us for?” asked Auntie Necra.

  “How absolutely rude,” said Swarme.

  “You Shiners may go about murdering people all over the place, but we’re different,” said Auntie Necra.

  Edwin relaxed a very small amount. “When you said I’d be gone soon, I thought you meant…”

  “We’ve found someone to take you off our hands,” said Auntie Necra, with obvious satisfaction. “And not before time. I never realized Shiner children were so intolerable. A thousand times worse than Lanthorne, and he’s bad enough.”

  “Please let us go home.”

  Edwin’s captors gave him a long, pitying look.

  “Doesn’t he say the stupidest things, Auntie?” said Swarme.

  Auntie Necra wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, leaving a jagged grimy smudge. “We were sending messages up the chimney all night because of you,” she told Edwin. “Poor Swarmie’s a shadow of his former self, after all that effort.”

  “Good job,” said Edwin. His mouth was filling with swear words anxious to burst out.

  “A man is coming to collect you the day after tomorrow,” Auntie Necra continued, in a tone that showed she was becoming bored with the conversation. “Soon you’ll be over the hills and ever so far away. Thank goodness.”

  “Over ever so ever so many hills,” Swarme took pleasure in adding.

  “Can I take Mandoline with me?” At least that way he and his sister would be together.

  “What an idea! She’d never survive the journey. Nor will you, with any luck. At least you’ll come in useful afterwards.”

  “What about Mandoline?” Edwin couldn’t control the trembling in his voice, and his eyes began to tingle.

  “She has a wonderful future ahead of her,” announced Auntie Necra, brightening up. “With my help, of course. You’ll be very proud of your little sister, or you would be, if you were around to see it. She’s going to be the Shiner princess of the Old Ways. People will flock here to see her.”

  “She’ll bring a new beginning,” said Swarme. “I’m thinking of marrying her one day, if I get used to the brightness.”

  So they were planning to turn his sister into a monster like them, a girl who ate unspeakable meals and who might even come to enjoy doing it. Edwin wanted to scream, swear and throw up, all at the same time.

  “Lanthorne admired you. He worshipped you,” he shouted at Swarme, who now looked blurred through a sudden rush of tears. “He’ll hate you for ever if you do this to us.”

  For a moment, a very short moment only, Swarme’s expression changed. Then the look of sheer nastiness spread over his face again.

  Edwin tried to blink away his tears. His nose began to run into his mouth.

  “In case you’re interested,” Auntie Necra said, “your new master, owner, is called Limbe, or perhaps it’s Legge, I forget. He’s thrilled to bits at the thought of getting an actual Shiner. He sent us two letters in beautiful handwriting on tiny pieces of leather.”

  “Pieces of skin,” Swarme corrected her.

  Edwin shook his head to dispel the tears that were stinging his eyes. A streamer of snot flew across his cheek and attached itself to his right ear. He made a number of rough grunting noises and lifted his head.

  “Is that a special Shiner habit?” Auntie Necra asked with distaste.

  Edwin managed to say, “Please may I see my sister?”

  “What do you think, Swarmie?”

  “I’m not sure. All those bad words he came out with last night. How do we know he’s sorry for saying them?”

  “I’m really sorry,” Edwin mumbled.

  “I’m really sorry, kind Auntie Necra and handsome young Swarme.”

  Edwin dutifully repeated the words.

  Swarme was no better than a playground bully making his younger victim squirm, but Edwin didn’t care how much he squirmed as long as the story ended with him carrying Mandoline through a door into their own world. He was crushed, but not as crushed as they thought or hoped. Defiance began to resurface through his misery. For the moment, he was able to contain it.

  “I’m really really sorry for calling you those names. Mandoline probably needs feeding right now. Would you like me to show you how to prepare her milk?”

  “Swarme, give the milk to Buckette,” said Auntie Necra. “She’s in the kitchen. Edwin can show her what to do.”

  Swarme shook the contents of Edwin’s backpack onto the floor. He was obviously confused by what he saw. Edwin nodded at the items they needed.

  “That’s the dried milk. That’s the bottle and that rubber thing goes on the end of it.”

  Swarme picked up the three named items and brushed everything else to one side with his foot.

  “Don’t kick them in the dirt,” Edwin shouted. “That’s her favourite squeaky toy, and you can’t put the blanket on her if it’s filthy. Are you trying to kill her?”

  Auntie Necra thought for a moment. “Take them with you, Swarmie, and give them a bit of a dust. All the other rubbish stays where it is.”

  Edwin pushed down the sides of his mouth so that he looked suitably downcast, despite being allowed to help feed Mandoline. For all their smugness, they had no idea he still had a penknife and a lighter. Auntie Necra’s main room seemed very flammable. There was bound to be enough fuel left in the lighter for him to be able to set fire to a few items she treasured, if he had the chance.

&nb
sp; Another idea came to him.

  “That’s a very delicious kind of sweet you’re nearly standing on,” he said. “It’s sort of ripe.”

  It was a tube of antiseptic ointment around which his mother had stuck her own label saying “Baby”.

  Swarme took the bait and picked up the tube.

  “I’ll enjoy eating this at my leisure,” he said as he untied Edwin. “If it’s good enough for baby, it’s good enough for Swarme.”

  He led Edwin into the kitchen where, surprisingly, a decent fire had been lit. Sitting in front of the fire, and protecting herself from it with a large wooden tray, was Buckette. She reminded Edwin of a bundle of old clothes to which someone had carelessly attached a pair of bony hands and a wig.

  Buckette was muttering to herself. As Edwin approached her, he realized that she was saying, “I hate these flames,” over and over again. Milk was being warmed for Mandoline in a filthy, misshapen saucepan pushed into the edge of the fire. You wouldn’t have wanted to boil giblets for your dog in it.

  Mandoline lay in a basket on the kitchen table. She was wrapped in blankets that didn’t appear to have been used for anything else and she was waving her arms contentedly.

  “Hello, Mandoline.” Edwin took one of her tiny hands between his finger and thumb. Tears blurred his vision once again. Mandoline was never one to let bygones be bygones, and she began to cry almost immediately.

  “She doesn’t like you,” said Swarme.

  “She blames me for all this,” said Edwin. “Do stop crying, Mandoline. You could at least say hello.”

  He laid the blanket he had brought over her, and squeaked the little mouse.

  The crying turned to gurgling and Mandoline stared at her brother, working out what she thought of his arrival. She reached up for her squeaky toy and threw it out of the basket as soon as Edwin handed it to her.

  “You need lots of boiling water for babies,” Edwin said.

  “Put the baby in boiling water,” said Buckette. She joined Edwin at the table.