Candleman (13 page)

A narrow, arched tunnel delved deep under the cathedral. Theo noticed that the fungus globes here seemed almost dead, giving only a spark of organic light. Maybe this route had lain unused for decades.

‘Suppose they aren’t up to anything?’ Theo asked.

‘Don’t be dense!’ Chloe exploded. ‘They sent those smogs out to snatch you! They smashed up the cottage. They’re on the war path!’ She gave Theo a withering look.

‘Norrowmore knew they were up to something big,’ she continued. ‘He wanted you rescued before it all kicked off! I was never told the big picture – I was too low down in our Society to be trusted with all the Mysteries. But now we’re the only ones left, we have to find out what’s going on!’

Theo fell silent. He desperately hoped they weren’t the only ones left and clung to the belief that Sam and Magnus had escaped somehow.

Chloe led the way, striding through the near-darkness with confidence. Theo kept up with her as best he could. After about an hour, she halted in an archway up ahead.

‘Are we stopping for a rest?’ asked Theo hopefully.

‘We can have a nice long rest when we’re dead,’ said Chloe. ‘Take a look at this!’

‘What is it?’

What is it, what is it
… Theo’s voice echoed through the gloom.

‘It’s the Holy Grail!’ Chloe whispered. ‘Well, better than that – it’s our own private route into the heart of enemy territory!’

They had emerged into a vast spherical stone chamber as wide as the cathedral they had left behind. They were standing on an iron gantry that connected with a central spiral stairway that seemed to go down forever.

‘Take a deep breath, Theo. This is where the real adventure starts,’ Chloe said. ‘We’re stepping into the unknown.’

Theo gazed into the blackness below. Who knew what terrors lay down there?
This is it,
he thought.
If ever I’m going to back out, it has to be now.

Chloe grinned up at him.

‘Come on, Weirdy!’ she teased. ‘You’ll be right at home!’

‘Aren’t you scared?’ asked Theo.

‘Not really,’ said Chloe, smiling. ‘I’ve got the Candle Man with me. Now follow me – we’re going all the way to the bottom.’

Theo’s heart was in his mouth. Did Chloe
really
expect him to be some kind of hero now, just because he was the great-great-great-grandson of Lord Wickland? Just because he had melted somebody once – by accident? Theo had believed he was a feeble invalid from Day One of his life. He wasn’t used to people having expectations of him – especially heroic ones. It was extremely unsettling.

Down they went, their feet echoing on the ancient stairway. Icy drips fell on them from above as they trod the iron steps, round and round, ever downwards in the darkness. It was like moving in a dream, beyond your own control. Theo felt he had left his younger, more cautious self forever waiting and wondering at the top of the stairs – while a mad new Theo was plunging ahead, running on pure hope.

Mr Nicely had told Theo a childish riddle once.
How far can a dog run into a wood?
The silly answer had been
Halfway. Because after that he’s running out.
Theo felt like he was running into a dark wood now. The wood was getting darker and more frightening all the time, but if he continued to run, there might be a point – there had to be a point – when he was starting to run out, back into the light. That was the hope he clung to as he kept moving onwards.

Finally, there were no more stairs. The exhausted pair found themselves in a cavern that stretched before them for miles. Mist lay as thick as cobwebs over the stinking mire that filled the underground chamber.

As far as the eye could see there lay the dreary wreck of some ancient cataclysm. Whole tree trunks were mouldering in black heaps; there were piles of unnameable debris, drowned machinery, the skeleton of a horse. An enormous, shattered fungus globe lay like a broken waterlily in the centre of the floods, its glowing contents creeping out across the swamp, shedding a livid glow.

The two figures straggled across the mire, wallowing through the waters with grim determination.

‘Where are we?’ wondered Theo.

‘The bottom,’ said Chloe simply. ‘Something terrible must have happened down here – long ago.’

‘It looks like the end of the world,’ said Theo.

They sloshed forwards through the reeking slime, casting bright ripples of bioluminescence.

‘My feet hurt,’ complained Theo. The water was loosening his half-healed blisters, making them rub all over again.

‘Well? My whole
me
hurts,’ retorted Chloe. ‘I’ve been fighting the so-called Society of Good Works ever since I was six. Always on the losing side, always buying flowers for more graves. An endless slog against an enemy who always knows more than you do.’

Theo decided not to mention his feet again for a bit. But Chloe’s frown changed into a smile.

‘It’s different now though,’ she said. ‘We’ve got you. For the first time ever, the tide is turning.’

The mire was getting shallower now, as they reached the centre of the chamber.

‘But –’ Theo began, then stopped and stared glumly ahead.

‘But what?’

‘Well, it’s just you and me, isn’t it?’ he said slowly. ‘The big things in this world, like – I don’t know – like wars, or like the … the Ascendancy – those big things just happen, don’t they? People like us can’t do anything about it.’

Chloe plodded grimly onwards, her cap concealing her gaze, her black dress growing sodden.

‘Do you really believe,’ Theo pressed, ‘that just one or two people – like you and me – can actually change things, make something … good happen?’

‘Unluckily for me, Theo,’ Chloe said, ‘that’s exactly what I
do
believe. Wait – take a look at this!’

The mists thinned out as they stepped on to dry land. They had reached an island in the mire, from which dark stone slabs arose, each marking a sinister mound. There were hundreds of these, in straight rows, vanishing off into the distance.

Almost against their will, Theo and Chloe were drawn to a large monument in the centre. A familiar figure was carved into it, like a winged demon with curled horns, hooked nose, staring human eyes, and a grim mouth.

Chloe started trying to count the mysterious gravestones. She soon gave up.

‘All the horrible stories turned out to be true,’ she muttered, half-recalling the words of the robber, Foley. ‘Something bad happened here. And I feel like it’s not yet over,’ she added in a whisper.

Theo climbed up and peered into the dead eyes of the carved figure on the monument. Now he knew what this place reminded him of – one of Foley’s grandad’s long-lost story books.

‘The Slaughter of the Gargoyles,’
Theo said.

T
ristus the garghoul awoke to find tiny silver mice creeping around at his feet. This was a peculiar and worrying development. Usually the other creatures in his lair ignored him, exactly if he were just a piece of stone. Now he had attracted a most unwelcome thing: curiosity.

He was hurt, tired, barely able to think. He groaned inwardly as it all came back to him – the fight with the smoglodytes on the roof. He had protected the boy, but been badly clawed and poisoned. He had made it back to his refuge in the Dodo’s cavern, and entered his stone dream to give his body time to heal.

The little mice beneath him became excited and started to dart around, squeaking. Moments later, a pair of big black rats loped into view, brushing the mice aside and sniffing officiously along the rock ledge the garghoul had called home for almost a century.

The rats lifted their snouts, sat back on their haunches and let out a high-pitched whine, horrible to hear, but mercifully brief. Then heavy keys clattered and snapped at locks, and the metal doors crashed open. A crooked human shape loomed over the garghoul. A bony Caspian Tiger lurked behind him.

‘Something has changed,’ growled the Dodo, inspecting Tristus closely. ‘This is not the dull, dead creature I recall!’

Tristus kept his eyes closed and remained as still as only a garghoul can. The Dodo crouched down and faced Tristus with a deep sigh.

‘You were supposed to be the pride of my collection,’ the Dodo said at length. ‘When I rescued you from the ruins of the network a hundred years ago, I considered you my greatest discovery. But you became my biggest disappointment. Never waking – never speaking! Never opening those fabled eyes.’

Tristus could hear the bitterness – loneliness even – in the Dodo’s voice. But garghouls do not choose to communicate with many mortals, and he remained silent.

‘You’re not a statue, sir!’ the Dodo said. ‘Living creatures have been my lifelong study – and a living thing is undoubtedly what you are. Your demeanor has changed – you are somehow … alert.’

The tiger licked at the black damp drizzle of guts on the rock ledge, which had caused such interest amongst the rodents. The Dodo bent down with an awkward lurch to sniff the spot.

‘You’ve been eating, too!’ he said, his eyes aglow with intrigue. He slapped the tiger on the haunch and it slunk away obediently. He ran his fingers through the curious straggle of wet innards and lifted them up to his nostrils.

‘Smoglodytes!’ he murmured, rising slowly. ‘This paints a more dangerous picture.’ The rodents, sensing their master’s excitement, scurried to his side. The tiger rumbled a deep-throated growl.

Tristus tried to pull his muddled wits together. His human visitor was not the sleepy, bored old man who had been shambling through these caverns for decades. Sir Peregrine had become charged with a new intensity – a new power. The garghoul knew he had now lost his safe, quiet lair.

‘Dr Saint must have struck a deal with the smoglodytes!’ the Dodo muttered. ‘No wonder the Society of Good Works strut about this city with such confounded arrogance!’

The Dodo suddenly grabbed Tristus and stretched out one of his bat-like wings. The leathery skin was freshly scarred, partially torn.

‘You’ve been out there – I knew I could smell it on you. I expect the smoglodytes gave you these souvenirs!’ the Dodo added. A mixture of anger and dismay contorted his features. ‘You’re awake! Confound you, sir! I know you’re awake!’

Time to go,
Tristus said to himself.

‘Why?’ the Dodo roared. ‘Why won’t you speak?’

The garghoul rose. The Dodo staggered back.

‘A – a hundred years without motion, and now you stand before me!’ the astonished man exclaimed. A tiny glitter of light like stardust appeared in the garghoul’s narrowed eyes.

‘You’re involved in all these events, aren’t you?’ the Dodo whispered in awe. ‘I know you can speak – tell me what’s going on!’

The garghoul sprang into the air, beat its powerful wings and disappeared into the shadows of the ceiling.

‘It’s dead down here,’ Chloe said. ‘There’s nothing more we can learn. Come on, let’s try another level.’ She pointed upwards.

They retraced their steps, glad to get away from the eerie graveyard. Halfway back across the mire, Theo stopped next to a colossal upturned tree root and glanced back. He clutched at Chloe and pointed over the mists. There, on the memorial where they had so recently stood, was the impish silhouette of a smoglodyte.

‘That was close!’ Chloe hissed. They backpedalled behind the tree root and stared. The single figure sprang up, waving its arms wildly. In moments the memorial stone was swarming with smoglodytes.

‘What are they doing?’ Theo wondered nervously.

‘It’s sweet the way you think I know everything,’ snapped Chloe. ‘How the heck do I know? They aren’t there to lay flowers, that’s for sure!’

For a horrible moment Theo had the impression the swarm of smoglodytes was heading their way. Then he was certain of it – they were.

‘Come on!’ he said, wading away as fast as he could. Chloe didn’t need any persuading. The mist over the mire hid them pretty well, but there was no point in taking chances. They struggled back to the foot of the great stairway.

‘Straight up,’ Chloe ordered. They ascended, their wet clothes weighing them down. After a few minutes, Theo peered out across the vapours and was sure he could see tiny heads bobbing up and down, a whole troop of smoglodytes heading towards the staircase.

‘They’re on to us!’ he called up to Chloe. ‘What now?’

‘We keep climbing!’ she said.

Theo felt sick. He had collapsed on to his knees on the second landing. This was the level he and Chloe had used before, to escape from the Dodo. Chloe listened at the circular hatchway.

‘Let’s get in here. I know it like the back of my hand. I’ll find a place to rest up before we do any more spying! The Society of Good Works might even have a canteen down here. We can disguise ourselves and get a bacon sandwich.’

Theo knew she was joking, trying to make him forget his exhaustion. She made a last, vain attempt to listen through the hatchway, then opened a glass plate over the central plaque that activated the door.

For a moment Theo thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, but a steady gaze removed all doubt. Even through his thick gloves, his hands had started to glow faintly.

‘Don’t open it!’ he hissed. ‘There must be somebody on the other side!’

It was too late. Chloe had already activated the hatch.

The shaven-headed brute of a guard looked shocked as the doorway sprang open, revealing two bedraggled intruders. He pulled a gun from a shoulder holster, but Chloe leapt through the hatch, grabbed his wrist and smashed his hand against the wall. The guard cried out, but did not drop his gun. He grabbed Chloe with his free hand and hurled her to the floor.

Theo threw himself through the hatchway. The guard swung a fist and smashed Theo back through the hatch without taking his eyes off Chloe, whom he had identified as the dangerous one of the two. Theo stumbled to his feet and tore off his gauntlets. A flicker of pale fire played around his fingers. He gulped. Was he really going to use his terrible power again? Would it even work for him this time?

Chloe was trying to struggle to her feet, but a ruthless boot sent her sprawling back across the ground. Theo, climbing back through the hatch, saw a trickle of blood on her cheek.