Charlie Bone and the Hidden King Page 6

  Olivia grinned. "I won't be found out."

  "You might," said Emma. "And then you won't be able to help us. Remember, you're our secret weapon."

  Olivia gave a huge sigh. "OK. I promise to cool it for a while, but I tell you, it's so much fun scaring people out of their wits. People who deserve it, of course."

  Charlie looked away from her. "Being endowed isn't supposed to be fun." He could hardly believe what he had just said. The words just popped out of his mouth without his knowing they were there.

  "That's a very un-Charlie-ish thing to say," Olivia remarked.

  Charlie shrugged. "Perhaps it's the new Charlie speaking. I'm twelve now." He began to race away from them.

  "Don't let your age be a burden, Charlie!" Olivia called after him.

  Charlie turned and gave her a wave. "Are you nuts?" And yet, when he thought about it, his own endowment had certainly not proved very helpful just lately.

  Olivia kept her promise. For the rest of the week no alligators appeared outside the dormitories, no dinosaurs roamed the grounds, and no medieval warriors galloped through the school, brandishing axes (one of Olivia's specialties).

  If Blessed had seen the shadow again, he was keeping it to himself, and Charlie's chief concern became the baffling presence of Benjamin's parents.

  On Friday, when Charlie asked Billy if he'd like to stay the weekend, he was surprised by the answer.

  "Mrs. Brown has asked me to keep Benjamin company," Billy said brightly. "You see, he's lonely without his dog."

  Charlie felt surprised and guilty all at the same time, and yet it wasn't his fault that Runner Bean had run away. He, Charlie, was Benjamin's best friend. Why couldn't he keep Benjamin company?

  But all he said was "Oh. All right, then."

  Back at home, Charlie sat at the kitchen table while Maisie stirred eggs in a saucepan on the stove.

  "It's been a funny week," said Maisie. "No bird-song, no cats on fences, no dogs on leashes. I never realized the difference they made. It's lonely without them, you know, Charlie."

  "Mmm," Charlie mumbled. He was wondering if he would see the girl in the sunshine coat again.

  "They've had the police investigating it; and animal welfare and council workers and private detectives, and Lord knows what else." Maisie brought a dish of scrambled eggs to the table and peered into Charlie's face. "What's up, then, Charlie? Had a bad week?"

  Charlie shook his head. "Not really."

  "Benjamin coming over?"

  Charlie shrugged. "Billy Raven's staying with Ben this weekend."

  "Well, that's something new." Maisie raised her eyebrows. "Didn't know they were friends."

  "And Fido's playing in the band," Charlie went on, sadly.

  "You do sound sorry for yourself." Maisie sat beside Charlie. "Come on, eat those lovely eggs. Much better for you than patti-di-fwa-gra, or whatever it is Grandma Bone has such a passion for."

  Charlie managed to raise a smile. He was about to start his meal, when Uncle Paton marched in and, flinging open the refrigerator door, declared, "I'm starving. My basket's not coming today, they tell me. Hope you're not too disappointed, Charlie?"

  Every Friday, Uncle Paton had a large basket of delicious food delivered from a store in the city. Charlie had been so immersed in his own problems he had quite forgotten to look forward to it.

  "What happened?" he asked.

  "Owner dropped dead," said Uncle Paton.

  Charlie put down his fork. "Just like that? Dropped dead? Was he in the store? Were people scared?"

  "Yes, is the answer to all those questions," Uncle Paton replied.

  "It was in the papers," said Maisie, "along with the missing animals. What a week."

  "What did he die of?" Charlie found he couldn't eat.

  "Ah. There's the mystery." Uncle Paton brought a plate of cheese and crackers to the table. "Can I eat your eggs, Charlie?"

  Maisie slapped Paton's hand, which had begun to inch its way toward Charlie's plate. "The boy needs his food," she said sharply. "Charlie, eat up."

  "Didn't the doctors know?" Charlie put a forkful of egg into his mouth. He was worried about this store owner who had inexplicably dropped dead.

  "His heart stopped beating for no reason," said Uncle Paton. "Very fit man apparently. Regular jogger. Very sad. Luckily, no family, though. The new owner has already taken the reins; a relative I'm told. They'll be back to normal next week and we'll get our weekend treats." This time it was Uncle Paton who peered into Charlie's face. "Feeling your age, Charlie? Twelve isn't the end of the world, you know."

  "Twelve," Charlie repeated. "I was two when my dad disappeared. Ten years ago. Ten. Is that a lucky number, do you think?"

  Paton's jovial expression softened. "Ten?" he said thoughtfully. "Well, the Red King had ten children, but it's a matter of opinion whether that was lucky."

  "Hardly," muttered Maisie.

  Someone could be heard climbing the steps up to the front door, and as Charlie turned to the window, he saw Benjamin and Billy get into the Browns' car. Where were they off to? he wondered. A movie? The bowling alley?

  Amy Bone came in looking weary after a week of weighing vegetables. As usual, she made the best of things. "Pineapples," she said cheerfully, plonking a bag of prickly shapes on the table. "It'll make up for Paton's package not coming." She pecked Charlie's cheek. "You look glum, Charlie."

  "Good to see you, too, Mom." Charlie took his plate to the sink.

  "Are we going to see Benjamin this weekend?" asked Charlie's mother. "You two must have a lot to catch up on."

  "No." Charlie turned and, with his back to the sink, gave his three relatives a challenging stare. They looked up, expectantly.

  "I won't be seeing Benjamin because he blames me for Runner Bean's vanishing. Fidelio is playing in a band, and Billy Raven is staying with the Browns. Oh, and by the way, Benjamin's parents are working at Bloor's now."

  "Extraordinary," Paton declared.

  "But I won't be lonely," Charlie went on, "because I'll go to Ingledew's bookstore. OK?"

  "Of course, it's OK, Charlie," his mother said quietly.

  Pronouncing Ingledew's to be the best place in the world, Uncle Paton got up, patted Charlie's shoulder, and began to forage in the fridge again.

  And that was that.

  Except that Charlie never got to the bookstore, because early the next morning, a light tap on his window led him into an adventure that would ultimately change his life. And a good many other lives besides.

  The tap came at dawn. Charlie woke up. In the gap between the curtains he could see the white moth fluttering against the windowpane. At first Charlie thought that the delicate beat of wings on glass had woken him. But then, there came another tap, this time sharper and louder.

  Charlie went to the window and looked out. The chestnut tree was covered in a crisp, white frost. In the gray dawn light, Charlie could make out a figure standing beneath the tree's icy branches. It was the girl in sunshine yellow. Her hood was thrown back and she had a thick multicolored scarf wound around her neck, covering her mouth. She waved at Charlie.

  He opened the window. "Hi! What do you want?"

  The girl pulled her scarf away from her mouth. "Charlie Bone, I want to take you somewhere."

  Charlie was suspicious. "Why?"

  "Don't you trust me?"

  "I don't know you."

  The girl frowned. "You will have to trust me, if you want to find the animals."

  "The animals!" cried Charlie. "You know where they are?"

  "Shhh!" The girl put a finger to her lips. "Are you coming?"

  "You bet."

  Charlie hurriedly threw on his warmest clothes: thick socks, thick sweater, boots, and padded jacket. As he passed the kitchen he thought of leaving a note, but what could he say? Better to let his mother believe he had gone to Ingledew's, he decided.

  The girl was waiting for him at the foot of the steps. Her glossy black hair was tucked into her sca
rf and her dark eyes held a mischievous twinkle. She held out her hand. "Nice to meet you, Charlie Bone."

  Charlie took her hand. "And who are you?"

  "Naren, the Chinese word for sunflower. They grew beside our door. Come. Let's go before the city wakes."

  The girl began to run up Filbert Street with Charlie panting behind her, amazed by the speed of her small springy feet in their black boots. When she reached High Street, Naren waited for Charlie to catch up. And at last he managed to blurt out, "Why me? Why did you choose me to find the animals?"

  "Because you are Charlie Bone," said Naren, "so you are the right person."

  "I don't understand."

  "My father knows you. He worries for you."

  "Your father?" Charlie's heart leaped. "He's not my father too, is he?"

  "No. Not yours." Naren lowered her gaze. "Sorry, Charlie." She looked up again. "But he is a friend of your father's."

  "Really? Can he tell me where he is?" Charlie was tense with hope.

  "No. Sorry, sorry. He was a friend of your father. But now your father is lost."

  "Yes," sighed Charlie.

  "My father too was lost. But now . . . Come, the animals." Naren darted off again, but this time she kept pace with Charlie, and as they traveled through the city together, she told him how she had been watching Charlie and his friends, Children of the Red King, like herself. She told him how she had longed to speak to them. "But my father said I must not approach you," she said sadly.

  "Why?" asked Charlie. "If he knows me? And if you are one of us?"

  "He will explain." Naren put on a little burst of speed. As she ran, she said, almost in a whisper, "He will be angry with me, for he forbade me to enter the city."

  Charlie glanced at her small anxious face, but asked no more questions. Naren was leading him through an unfamiliar part of the city. Rows of bare trees reached into the cold sky, and the houses were partially obscured by tall hedges laced with frost. Naren slowed her pace and carefully picked her way around the icy patches on the pavement. She took a sudden turn to the left and Charlie, following, found himself on a narrow path that wound down and down and down. He could hear a loud rushing sound that grew more intense with every step he took.

  Naren reached a set of railings, and looking over her shoulder, she declared, "We're halfway there. But now we must be most careful."

  "Only halfway." Charlie slithered up to her and grasped the railing. Looking down, he saw, perhaps sixty feet below him, a wild torrent of water. White foam gushed and bubbled over the dark rocks that thrust their way through the rapid rush of the river, and Charlie was mesmerized by the dreadful pounding of the water. "The river," he gasped. "I didn't know it was so close."

  Naren gave him a mysterious smile. "Now we must cross it.

  "Must we?" Charlie said doubtfully.

  "My home is on the other side."

  He looked across the chasm. At the top of the opposite cliff, a dense forest stretched as far as he could see. "You live over there?" he asked in disbelief.

  "People can live in forests." Naren's smile widened.

  "Yes, but that one?" Charlie stared at the distant mass of trees. "I heard it was a wilderness."

  "Maybe it is." She tugged his arm and pointed downward. "There's the bridge. Come on."

  Charlie leaned over the railing and saw a thin strip of wrought iron suspended above the river. It looked old and dangerous. "That?" he squeaked.

  "There's a big bridge farther on," said Naren, "but it's full of noisy traffic. I like this one, and so do the animals."

  "Oh, the animals." Charlie remembered why he was standing above this turbulent river with a girl he'd only just met. He followed Naren's perilous route down the cliff face until they reached the iron bridge. Close up it looked even more treacherous. The rail dripped with icicles and the flooring was gray with frost.

  There was a sign hanging on a wire across the entrance to the bridge. It said, DANGER. UNSAFE BRIDGE.

  But Charlie wasn't going to be outdone by a small girl. The rusty iron rang with the sound of Naren's boots as she tripped across and Charlie, swallowing hard, clanged after her.

  They were halfway across when he thought of the promise he'd made on his twelfth birthday. He'd told his mother that he wouldn't make any more hasty decisions, that he'd stop to consider the consequences before he rushed into things. And yet, here he was, walking across an unsafe bridge above a river that could quite definitely drown him were he to fall into it.

  Naren looked back. "Why have you stopped?" she called.

  "I was just admiring the view," Charlie said airily.

  "Come on."

  At that instant one of the supports that held the metal rail fell out and clanged onto the rocks below. The whole bridge shuddered and a shower of icicles spun down into the void. Charlie froze.

  "It's OK." The girl smiled encouragingly. "We're not heavy, you and me. The bridge will hold us."

  Gritting his teeth, Charlie strode after her.

  When he got to the end of the bridge he hid his relief by swinging nonchalantly between the two final posts, and jumping onto a welcome strip of firm rock.

  Naren laughed. "Now, another climb," she said.

  The sky had become lighter and the climb to the top of the cliff didn't seem nearly so hazardous as the descent on the other side.

  At the top of the cliff they were surrounded by huge naked trees. A faint path led through the forest, and Charlie, stepping behind Naren, became aware that the place was full of sound. From the bare branches, clusters of chattering birds watched the children passing beneath; even the dead grass rustled with life. Rabbits hopped beside the path, a stag peeked from behind a tree, and then, gradually, the wild sounds were drowned by an incessant and excited barking.

  A few seconds later, Runner Bean burst through the undergrowth and leaped up at Charlie, yelping with joy.

  "Runner!" cried Charlie, hugging the big yellow dog.

  "He's yours?" asked Naren.

  "No. He belongs to my friend. But I feel kind of responsible for him, because Benjamin, my friend, has been away."

  "That dog was the first," said Naren. "Over the bridge he came, and the others followed: dogs, cats, ponies, goats, rabbits, everything. We heard them coming and ran to the cliff to look. It was quite a sight, all those animals under the moon, running across the bridge."

  "But why did they come here?"

  "Because it's safer. Can't you feel it? Over there, in the city, something evil has woken up. My father will explain."

  Before Charlie could ask any more questions, Naren turned quickly and began to bound along the path. Runner Bean leaped beside her, but Charlie followed at a slower pace. He gazed up at the canopy of branches above his head. Yes, it did feel safer here. There was a calmness, a wonderful sense of protection. He wondered what sort of man he was about to meet. If Naren was descended from the Red King, then, in all probability, so was her father. Was he a sorcerer? A hypnotist? A were-beast?

  A fence came into view, and an open gate. Charlie's heart began to pound. Naren was standing just inside, but Runner Bean waited for Charlie and, together, they walked through the gate into a wide enclosure.

  At the far end stood a small cottage, with redbrick barns on either side. Smoke drifted from the cottage chimney and the slate roof was covered with birds. Animals of every description filled the enclosure. There were ponies cropping the sparse winter grass; dogs feeding from stone troughs; and cats sitting on the fence.

  A gray bird sailed out of a window, calling, "Dog ahoy!" Surely, it had to be Lysander's parrot, Homer.

  Charlie barely registered the existence of the other creatures. His attention was held by a figure standing in front of the cottage door. The man was of medium height with a brown, weathered face and a shock of white hair. In spite of the cold, he wore only a woolen shirt over his muddy jeans. His tanned skin emphasized the color of his vivid blue eyes, eyes that stared at Charlie with shock and recognition.


  And Charlie noted the large ax held across the man's chest. He looked all too ready to use it.

  THE EXPLORER

  Dad, I've brought Charlie Bone," Naren said, a little anxiously.

  "So I see. Naren, I forbade you to enter the city." The man's voice was husky with suppressed anger and while he spoke to his daughter, he never took his eyes off Charlie. "I suppose you crossed the iron bridge?"

  "Sorry." Naren looked at her feet. "I couldn't help it."

  "Of course you could help it." Her father raised his voice. "Will you never learn? Will you never do the safe and sensible thing?"

  "But now you are glad, aren't you?" Naren smiled hopefully. "Glad that I brought Charlie."

  The man gave a grunt of exasperation and brought his ax crashing down onto a tree stump, already pitted with blade marks. Leaving the ax, he turned his back on the children and strode into the cottage.

  Unexpectedly, the door wasn't slammed. All the same Charlie didn't feel welcome.

  "My father will calm down," Naren said confidently. "His anger is like a flame that dies. Come into the warmth." She walked to the open door, motioning Charlie to follow.

  But Charlie stayed where he was. In spite of the cold, he was reluctant to leave the animals. He had begun to recognize some of them. Emma's duck was pecking at a trough of corn. Homer had settled on a fence post and there were two white rabbits cropping the grass in a far corner; they looked very much like Olivia's.

  "I think I'll just take Runner Bean and go home," Charlie told the girl. "My friends can come and fetch their pets now that I know where they are.

  "No," Naren said sharply. "No one must know about this place. My father's anger, then, would be terrible. Come." She motioned. You must talk with him."

  The white-haired man had seemed so grumpy, Charlie didn't feel he could possibly want to talk to him, but Naren beckoned so insistently, he found himself edging closer and closer.

  Runner Bean came as far as the door, but wouldn't follow Charlie when he went into the house. Naren took off her boots in a small flagstoned hall, and Charlie did the same. Then Naren opened a second door, and when Charlie stepped through it, he found himself in a warm, bright kitchen.