Spellbinder (25 page)

“And sometimes there are garden parties,” said Elsie, “with swingboats and jellies!”

“Well,” said Steve, ignoring Elsie, “if all the doors back really are closed, then perhaps we should go to the House of Mists. Maybe their commission has found something. They could already know what’s happening and why.”

“Hmm,” said Grandpa Johnson, “that’s probably the best thing. We certainly can’t sit here. We’ll set out in the morning, but for now I think you two need some sleep.”

“But how will we get past Ashe?” asked Belladonna.

“You leave that to me. I’ll see what I can think of.”

Grandpa Johnson smiled encouragingly, but
Belladonna had a feeling that he had no idea what to do. She reached into her backpack and handed him Dr. Ashe’s book.

“Maybe there’s something in here.”

He took the book and leafed through it. Then his eyebrows shot up and his pipe nearly fell out of his mouth.

“Good heavens! It’s spells and . . . ooh, that one looks dangerous. And that one. Where on earth did you find this?”

Belladonna told him about the launderette and the hidden cupboard in the wall, and once she’d started, the whole story came tumbling out, from Lady Mary right through to the Draconite Amulet and the charnel sprites’ tunnel. It felt good to tell a grown-up even though she knew he probably couldn’t do much about it.

Grandpa Johnson sucked on his unlit pipe, lost in thought for a few moments.

“Where’s this amulet now?” he said finally.

“Here.” Steve pulled it out from inside his T-shirt and handed it over.

Grandpa Johnson turned it over in his hands, a look of awe on his face.

“Well, I never!”

“If you hold it up to the light, you can see dragons,” said Belladonna.

Her grandfather glanced at her, then held it up to the lamp in the corner of the room. Belladonna couldn’t
help but feel a little bit pleased as his mouth dropped open.

“Good gravy and dripping! So you can! I wonder how old Ashe knew where it was.”

“He didn’t,” said Steve. “Well, not exactly.”

“He must have thought all his birthdays had come at once when he persuaded you two to go fetch it for him.”

“Why?” asked Belladonna. “What is it for?”

“Well,” said Grandpa Johnson, holding it up to the light again, “unless I’m very much mistaken, this is one of the Nomials.”

“Nomials?” said Elsie, suddenly interested.

“Yes,” Grandpa Johnson handed it back to Steve. “Nomials.”

They all looked at him expectantly, certain that he was about to say something really important, but all he did was chew on the stem of his old pipe, lost in thought.

“Grandpa,” said Belladonna quietly, “what are the Nomials?”

“Stones,” he said finally. “Gems, I suppose . . . um . . .”

“You don’t know, do you?” said Steve, who was more familiar than most with the look of someone who doesn’t know the answer.

“No one knows,” said Grandpa Johnson, looking a little offended. “There are just stories. After the last Dark Times, the Nomials were created, d’you see?
And they were hidden. I don’t know why. The stories don’t go into detail. I imagine they have some individual powers, but together . . . together they somehow form a multiversal orrery.”

“A what?” asked Belladonna.

“An orrery,” said Elsie, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s a sort of mechanical map of the solar system. My Papa had one in his study at home. It shows the relative positions of all the planets.”

“Well remembered,” said Grandpa Johnson, clearly impressed. “An ordinary orrery shows the planets that make up the solar system in the Land of the Living. The multiversal orrery, on the other hand, is said to show the relative positions of all the nine worlds.”

“Is that all?” said Steve. “It’s just some sort of model? Why go to all the trouble of hiding the pieces, then?”

“Because . . . well, the legend has it that whoever possesses the multiversal orrery has power over the nine worlds and all the spaces in between. That’s why it was broken up and the pieces hidden throughout the worlds.”

“Duh,” said Steve, rolling his eyes. “Don’t you have movies or comics in the Land of the Dead? Special doodads with the power to destroy the universe
always
fall into the hands of the bad guys.”

“I didn’t say they had the power to destroy the universe.”

“I bet they do, though. Ow!”

Belladonna had kicked him under the table. She couldn’t see much point in making the old man angry and there were a lot more questions she wanted to ask.

“What makes you think it’s one of these Nomials?” she asked, smiling in a way that she hoped was encouraging.

“Um . . .” Grandpa Johnson glared at Steve for a moment. “It’s . . . uh . . . well, I’m fairly sure that’s Pyrocasta. The place that you see with the dragons. There are legends about one of the Nomials being made from a jewel given by a dragon.”

“The dragon gave it?” asked Belladonna, surprised. “They didn’t kill it?”

“Of course not.” Grandpa Johnson seemed taken aback. “Why would you kill one when you can just ask?”

Belladonna felt suddenly ashamed, as if she’d advocated killing baby bunnies or something. “I don’t know . . . I just . . .”

“Well, if that’s so,” began Steve, who hadn’t lost any of his former skeptical tone, “then why—”

“We can talk about all this tomorrow,” said Grandpa Johnson, suddenly standing up. “It’s a two-day walk to the House of Mists. There’ll be plenty of time, and I can see you’re feeling tired.”

“I’m not—”

Steve winced as Belladonna’s shoe made contact with his shin again.

“I’ll make up the beds,” said Grandpa Johnson, striding out of the room.

“What do you keep kicking me for?” hissed Steve. “We need to find out about these Nomial thingies. It’s bound to have something to do with the ghosts and the doors.”

“I know that,” whispered Belladonna, “but you were just winding him up. Old people don’t like being talked to like that.”

“That’s true,” said Elsie. “My grandmother once gave me a proper clip ’round the ear when I told her that times had changed and that children didn’t have to be seen and not heard anymore . . . and that her new hat made her look like a mushroom with a bird sitting on it.”

“She hit you?” said Belladonna, shocked.

“I’m not surprised,” said Steve. “I’ll bet Granny got a round of applause from the rest of your nearest and dearest for that one.”

Elsie bit her lip and glared at Steve, giving Belladonna the distinct impression that he might have hit the nail on the head.

“Let’s go to bed,” she said quickly. “It sounds like this House of Mists thing is going to be quite a trek.”

She turned and walked through the hall, but couldn’t resist a peek through the sidelight of the front door.

“Is he still there?”

Steve was right behind her. Belladonna nodded but didn’t turn around. She could see Ashe standing near the front gate, but he wasn’t staring at the house any more. He seemed to be holding something small in his hand and he was staring down at it, his jaw set in concentration.

“I hope your Granddad comes up with a plan for getting past him.”

“He will,” said Belladonna as brightly as she could. “Come on, let’s get some rest.”

“D’you reckon there are aspirins in the Land of the Dead?” asked Steve, following her up the stairs.

“I doubt it. Why?”

“I’ve got a headache. It’s probably lack of food.”

“You had a ham sandwich!”

“
Half
a ham sandwich.”

Grandpa Johnson was standing on the upstairs landing waiting for them.

“You take the front room, Belladonna,” he said, gesturing to what she had always thought of as her grandmother’s room. “And I’ve put you in the back bedroom, if that’s alright, Steve.”

Steve mumbled his thanks and disappeared into the spare room, closing the door softly behind him.

“Thank you,” said Belladonna, suddenly feeling awkward. “It’s very nice of you to help.”

Grandpa Johnson smiled at her for a moment, then scooped her up into his arms again and gave her a huge hug.

“Oh, Belladonna,” he whispered, “it’s so wonderful to see you. Don’t worry about a thing, we’ll have your Mum and Dad back here and you back home where you belong before you can say Jack Robinson! Now, give me a kiss good night. Or don’t children do that any more?”

“Of course we do!”

She kissed his cheek and then wiped her eyes. She hadn’t even realized she was crying.

“Good night,” she said finally, smiling.

“Good night. I’ll give your book a read and we’ll see what we can do in the morning.”

She went into the room, leaving the door slightly ajar so that she could see the light from the landing. As she scrambled into bed she could hear her grandfather’s footsteps retreating down the stairs and, for the first time in what seemed like ages, she felt safe.

I
T WAS STILL
dark when Belladonna woke up. She waited for a few moments while her eyes grew accustomed to the light, then sat up. Something was wrong.

She glanced at the window. There were no stars in the velvet black sky, but a sliver of strange blue moonlight sliced across the floor. The night was so much quieter than the nights at home. There, if she woke up in the small hours, she would hear the distant hum of cars and the occasional bleating of a horn; there would be sirens sometimes, and the lonely warbling of solitary birds. But here there was nothing, just the all-enveloping silence of death. She disentangled herself from the blankets, tiptoed to the window, and peered out, trying not to move the curtains.

Ashe was still there and still staring at whatever he had in his hand, but now it seemed to be giving off a faint glow. The light was sickly and faint, but it was enough for Belladonna to see that the alchemist was
smiling. Suddenly the sense of safety that she had felt in bed vanished and was replaced by an anxious knot in her stomach. Then, as she watched, a strip of light poured across the meager front garden. Someone had opened the front door.

For a moment she was puzzled, but then she knew.

“Steve!”

She turned and ran out of the room. When Ashe had started mumbling to whatever was in his hands, Steve had complained of a headache. It couldn’t be coincidence. At the top of the stairs she felt the chill of the night air and could just see the lower half of Steve’s jeans as he stood in the doorway.

“Steve! Stop!” She clattered down the stairs as Steve stepped out onto the front step.

She had just reached the open door, when she was yanked back by a strong hand.

“Stay here,” commanded her grandfather. “Don’t move.”

His voice was stern, like army commanders in old movies. He strode to the open door, then hesitated for just a moment as the full horror of the situation dawned on Belladonna.

“No!” she yelled. “Don’t!”

He turned, gave her a wink, and then shot out of the door.

By this time Steve was halfway between the front door and Dr. Ashe, but Grandpa Johnson crossed the ground in three long strides. He grabbed Steve, turned,
and half threw, half shoved him across the threshold and back into the house, but just as he was about to step back inside himself, the door slammed shut.

Belladonna yelped, jumped over Steve, and started straining at the door.

“It won’t open!” she cried as Elsie appeared out of the kitchen. “He’s trapped outside!”

Elsie sprang to her aid and they both heaved on the door, but it was locked tight. Belladonna peered through the sidelight, then dashed into the front room and threw open the curtains.

Grandpa Johnson and Dr. Ashe were facing each other. Ashe was no longer staring into the thing in his hand, but was glowering at Grandpa Johnson with a face like thunder.

“How dare you!” he yelled, his voice cracking with fury. “They are mine!”

“They are not,” replied Grandpa Johnson, completely unruffled by the alchemist’s rage.

Ashe looked at him for a moment, then a smile slowly spread across his face, like mud cracking in the sun.

“Well,” he said finally, “you’ve stepped beyond your witch bottles. You know what happens now, don’t you?”

“I have an idea.”

Ashe stepped forward and threw his arms wide, muttering words that Belladonna couldn’t hear but that she knew were Words of Power. Grandpa Johnson
turned back and smiled at her again. Then, like her father, he seemed to squeeze in and up until he was nothing but a thin line of light. And then he was gone.

Belladonna and Elsie stared out of the window, pale, horrified faces framed by faded flowery curtains. Ashe seemed to relish his final victory over Grandpa Johnson for a moment, then turned his steely gaze onto Belladonna.

“You may as well come out,” he called, his voice like cold stone. “Living creatures like you need food from the Land of the Living, and I’ll wager the old man didn’t have so much as a pancake in his house.”

Belladonna stared at him, unable to respond.

“Come out, my dear, do come out. You know that all I want is my little jewel.”

Elsie clicked her tongue and closed the curtains with a flourish.