Goodly and Grave in a Deadly Case of Murder Page 11

  Thorne smiled. “A shortcut to Grave Hall? What an excellent suggestion. I want you to shortcut me there now. I want to see Grave. We have a lot to discuss.”

  “No.”

  “Yes!”

  The golem looked down at Lucy and growled as if in agreement with Thorne, its eyes flashing erratically.

  Eyes.

  Suddenly Lucy knew what to do. It was a risky idea, but she had no alternative but to try it. If she gave in to Thorne’s demands her friends at Grave Hall would be in deadly danger. They could all be killed.

  She put her hands over her face and pretended to sob. “Oh, please don’t make me.”

  “You’ll do it. And do it now.”

  She might have faked crying, but she didn’t need to fake the way her hands trembled as she began making the shortcut. Her heart pounded and for a few agonising seconds, fear overwhelmed her. She clenched her fists determinedly, squeezed her eyes shut and focused on the place where she so badly needed to be. Sparks crackled around her and the shortcut began to form. At the same time, a bell started to clang from the main prison. It’s an alarm; maybe the guards are calling for reinforcements! Lucy thought, hope surging through her. Thorne seemed to be of the same opinion and was eager to be off.

  “Golem, follow behind us, let no one else through!” he said, climbing through the shortcut, dragging Lucy with him. They had barely reached the other side when a stream of guards came pounding towards them. But they arrived just a fraction too late; the golem was already hurrying through the shortcut. Once it had reached its destination, Thorne took the precaution of positioning Lucy so that it would be impossible for the guards to fire bullets through the shortcut without endangering her.

  “Close it!” he yelled at her

  Lucy obeyed. It was only when the shortcut was making the usual sucking noise as it shut that Thorne paid proper attention to his surroundings and realised that he was standing not in the grounds of Grave Hall, but in St Olaf’s graveyard.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  STONE AND EARTH

  “What have you done? Where are we?” Thorne demanded, his face contorting with rage.

  “I don’t know! I was so scared, I made a mistake. I’m sorry!”

  “Get me to Grave Hall. Now!”

  “I don’t think I can!” Lucy pretended to sob again and slumped to the ground as if in despair.

  “If you don’t make that shortcut now, I’ll get the golem to …” Thorne looked around for the monster. “What’s it doing? Golem, get over here to me!”

  The golem ignored Thorne. It was standing in the last of the afternoon sun, staring at St Olaf’s Church, its head tilted to one side. Lucy realised with horror that the golem was listening to the singing and organ music coming from the church. She hadn’t considered the possibility that there might be a service going on and cursed herself for being so stupid. She’d now put all the people inside in horrible danger!

  As Thorne fruitlessly berated the golem, the singers inside the church finished their hymn and the organ wheezed to a stop. Meanwhile, Lucy was on her feet and about to make a run for it. But then the golem suddenly turned its green eyes on her and growled. Thorne followed its gaze.

  “Golem. Get the girl!” he shouted.

  No longer distracted by music, the golem seemed to be more willing to heed its new master and began lumbering towards Lucy, it growls deepening.

  Lucy made a swift calculation and then pelted towards the golem. This wasn’t what it had been expecting and so it was momentarily confused. By the time it had gathered its miniscule wits, Lucy had whipped past it, ducked out of the way of Thorne, who tried to grab her, then doubled back and headed towards her old friend, the eyeless angel. She swiftly clambered up on to the angel’s plinth.

  “Remember me? You have to help me again!” Lucy concentrated desperately hard to channel her fear into producing the magic she needed to animate the angel.

  The golem and Thorne were almost within grabbing distance of her now. Lucy made a final frantic effort. This time it worked. The eyeless stone face came alive and peered down at her. In a flash of desperate inspiration, Lucy took her imaginings a step further. She pictured herself inside the angel’s body, looking through its eyeholes, controlling its limbs. There was a high-pitched ringing in her ears and everything burned bright and white as though there had been an explosion. And then Lucy was staring down on herself standing on the plinth, an empty look in her eyes. She gently picked herself up and put herself on the grass before urging her new stone body to step down from the plinth to face her two pursuers. For a few seconds, Thorne was completely wrong-footed and looked afraid. But he soon recovered. “Golem. Attack!”

  The golem’s eyes flashed and Lucy was sure she heard it chuckle. She’d give it something to laugh about! She flexed her stone muscles, drew her right arm back and punched the golem full in the face, exactly where its nose would have been if it had had one. Baked earth crumbled from where Lucy’s stone fist had connected. For a brief moment Lucy felt sorry for the golem; she didn’t enjoy hurting anyone. But that sympathy soon evaporated when the golem roared, swiping at her with its lethal claws. The talons left deep scratches on the stone angel’s arm and Lucy felt burning pain as though it was her own flesh and blood that bore the brunt of the golem’s assault. She was about to counter-attack with a punch on the side of the golem’s head when the church bells began to peal. The golem turned and began to head towards the sound, much to the fury of Thorne, who followed it, screaming commands, all of which the golem ignored.

  The golem and Thorne stopped by the church doors. Lucy stumped after them as quickly as her stone legs could carry her.

  “If you don’t shortcut me to Grave Hall I’ll set the golem on the people in this church. It’s your choice whether they live or die,” Thorne said to her when she reached them.

  Remembering how the angel had nearly killed Lord Grave, Lucy found a simple solution to her dilemma. She brought her stone fist down on Thorne’s head. She was careful not to hit him too hard as she didn’t want to kill him, just daze him. She judged her blow accurately and Thorne slid to the ground. The golem seemed supremely unbothered by this attack on its new master. In fact, Lucy was sure she heard it chuckle again.

  She needed to put Thorne out of harm’s way so she could get on with shortcutting to Grave Hall and raising the alarm. And she needed to protect the congregation inside St Olaf’s. She soon spotted something nearby. The grave next to Mr Shannon’s, which was protected by a mortsafe. Perfect. A mortsafe would trap Thorne physically and also possibly prevent him casting any harmful spells if he happened to come round too soon. Lucy picked up Mortimer Thorne’s limp form in her stone arms and carried him over to the grave. She laid him on the ground beside the grave and then ripped the mortsafe from the ground and deposited it over Thorne.

  Just as she’d finished doing this, the church bells stopped pealing. The golem whined in protest. When the bells didn’t start up again, it began bashing at the church door and hacking the wood with its finger blades. Lucy knew the door wouldn’t last long. She pounded towards the church and cracked the golem hard over the head with her fist. The golem jerked and roared but wasn’t deterred. It gave the door one final immense blow. The door caved in and the golem lumbered through it.

  Lucy was so horrified at the danger so many people were now in that she lost her concentration. Everything wavered around her and the next second she found herself sitting on the grass next to the angel’s empty plinth. Roars and screams came from inside the church. Lucy raced across the graveyard to where the stone angel now stood lifelessly just outside the church door. Closing her eyes and concentrating hard, Lucy tried to imagine herself back inside the angel.

  Nothing.

  Panting with fear, Lucy tried to animate the angel instead, but she couldn’t do it; she simply couldn’t do it! Crashes and more cries of panic came from the church. Lucy clambered through what was left of the door and raced inside. The congrega
tion were huddled together behind the altar, the vicar standing protectively in front of his flock, holding up a crucifix as though it was a shield. The golem was ripping up pews and hurling them around as it made its way down the aisle, like some kind of monstrous and very bad-tempered bride approaching her groom. At first Lucy thought it was heading towards the congregation with murderous intentions. But then she realised that it was looking under the pews as it tore them up, as though it was searching for something it had mislaid. In a flash of comprehension, she understood. The golem was looking for the music it had so enjoyed. Lucy flew up the aisle, dodging between the golem’s legs.

  “Sing!” she yelled at the people cowering behind the altar. “It doesn’t want to hurt you; it wants more music. Sing!”

  The vicar looked completely nonplussed. Lucy could understand his confusion; it wasn’t every day his church was invaded by a marauding monster and a young girl barking orders at him.

  “It likes music! Sing!”

  “What should we sing?”

  “Anything. ‘Baa, Baa, Black Sheep’, whatever! Just sing!”

  “‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’, everyone!” the vicar yelled.

  It probably wasn’t the congregation’s finest performance. In fact, Lucy was sure they were all out of tune and the organist was very shaky too. But the golem ceased in its efforts to destroy the pew it had just upended. It cocked its head, green eyes glowing with appreciation. As it soaked up the music Lucy frantically tried to decide what to do next. Then she remembered the blank page from the notebook, which she’d purloined back in the cowshed. She felt in her pocket. It was still there!

  “Quick, I need a pencil!” she told the vicar.

  “We need a pencil!” the vicar said to the person next to him. Word went around the congregation, who continued singing while searching their coats and bags. Thankfully, one of them soon produced a stub of pencil. Lucy then wrote You are very sleepy. It’s time for bed on the notebook page. She ran to where the golem stood transfixed, climbed on to the upended pew next to it and slotted the page into the golem’s mouth. As before, the paper burst briefly into flames. Then the golem yawned and stretched its mighty arms over its head, which began to droop. It settled itself down on a pile of wood that used to be several pews, then it curled up into a ball, put one of its talons in its mouth and soon began to snore.

  As the congregation finished ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’, Lucy found she wasn’t feeling too bright, let alone beautiful, herself. Her knees sagged and she ended up sprawled on the cold church floor, her head spinning. She was dimly aware of a commotion around her.

  “She’s here, Lord Grave! She’s safe!” Beguildy Beguildy shouted. “Oh no. I’m feeling sick again. I so hate shortcutting …”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  A PACT OR TWO

  Lucy gasped at the monster in front of her. It was tall and thin with a massive shiny black head, like some kind of hideous overgrown insect. Raising her hand, not to ward off the monster, but to pat her own hair, Lucy watched as the mirror distorted the reflection of her fingers to round blobs of flesh. Smell, who was standing next to her, sniffed at his elongated mirror-self and then pretended to snarl.

  “Look at the size of them fangs!” he said.

  Lord Grave, Lady Sibyl and Lord Percy were grouped around a different mirror, which gave their reflections animal heads. Lord Grave was a stag, Lady Sibyl a horse and Lord Percy an eagle. Even Bathsheba was transformed, her reflection bearing the head of a mouse. Beguildy Beguildy was gazing awestruck at an image of himself as a king sitting on a golden throne, while Prudence laughed gaily into a mirror, which showed her carrying her severed head under her arm. As for Bertie, he was busy going from one mirror to the next, examining each closely from every possible angle. He was convinced he could find an explanation other than magic for how they worked, even though Lord Grave had told him they were enchanted.

  There was one other rather excited individual in the O’Brien’s Midnight Circus Hall of Mirrors. The golem Jerome Wormwood had created. It was currently gawping at itself transformed into a young and handsome man in one of the magical mirrors. After the events in St Olaf’s graveyard, MAAM had been left with the tricky question of what to do with the golem. It would have been usual to destroy such a monster, but Lucy had felt very uncomfortable with that idea. She’d argued that the golem had demonstrated some very human characteristics in its appreciation of music and in the way it had resisted the demands of both Wormwood and Thorne. After much deliberation and consultation with experts, Lord Grave had eventually decided to give the golem a chance. It was now undergoing rigorous training to curb any violent tendencies as well as regular manicures and pedicures to blunt its nails.

  Roland Mole was of course furious not to be able to have his Emerald Eye back, but Lord Grave said it would be unethical to remove one of the golem’s eyes. As for the other Emerald Eye, strictly speaking that belonged to Mortimer Thorne who had given it to Dolores Charm for safekeeping when he went to prison. But as he had stolen it off someone else somewhere along the line, it seemed fair for the golem to hang on to it.

  The trip to O’Brien’s Midnight Circus was the golem’s first social engagement. Lord Grave had been a little surprised and initially reluctant when Diamond O’Brien had invited him and the rest of MAAM to join her for afternoon tea at her circus. However, she had explained that, following the terrible events of the last few days and the death of two magicians, she felt the magical community needed to come together. Lord Grave had to agree that she had a point and so accepted the invitation.

  When everyone had finished admiring their reflections, they made their way to Diamond’s caravan, where a table was laid, loaded with a variety of food for the guests to choose from. Lucy was about to select a particularly delicious-looking jam and cream bun when her hand collided with Beguildy Beguildy’s. They both hesitated.

  “You take it,” Lucy said.

  Instead of politely declining, Beguildy showed no hesitation in swiping the bun. Lucy sighed and selected an equally delicious-looking slice of sponge cake. She knew this was her chance. Beguildy was as annoying as ever, but she did have something to thank him for. She’d been avoiding speaking to him about it until now, but as this seemed to be an afternoon of reconciliation, she had decided she should give it a try if the opportunity arose.

  It took her a couple of attempts to get the words out, but she eventually said, “I’ve never properly thanked you. Lord Grave told me you were the one who guessed Rivers, I mean Wormwood, had taken me away. If you and the rest of MAAM hadn’t turned up when you did, it could have all got very awkward for me.”

  There had been a lot of clearing up to do in the aftermath of the drama at St Olaf’s. Memories had been tweaked (including those of her parents, whom Lucy had then shortcut back to Venice), and Mortimer Thorne rearrested. As for Jerome Wormwood, he had realised his dearest wish and was now reunited with his beloved master. The two men were sharing a cell in Millbank Prison and, according to reports, did not get along very well at all.

  “You’re welcome,” Beguildy said in a slightly strangled voice. He took a large bite of cake.

  “How did you guess that Rivers was Jerome Wormwood?” Lucy asked. Of course, Lord Grave had already told her this, but she wanted to keep the conversation going.

  Beguildy chewed and swallowed. “I’d been suspicious of him for a while. He kept pumping me for information. And he always seemed to be loitering around doors every time there were discussions of any importance. So when you both vanished, I was certain that he was up to something bad. We searched his room. Found a bottle of black hair dye and a bundle of letters from Diamond O’Brien addressed to Jerome Wormwood as well as drawings of Millbank Prison.”

  “You were cleverer than me,” Lucy said. “I trusted him completely until the very end.”

  “While you suspected me of being Wormwood,” Beguildy said, grinning slyly.

  Lucy’s face grew war
m. “Lord Grave shouldn’t have told you about that! I am sorry. You might be irritating, but you’re not evil. Maybe we’ll never be best friends, but we do need to work together, so …” Lucy stuck her hand out.

  Beguildy stared at Lucy’s hand as though it was something slightly unsavoury, but then he relented and the two of them shook hands, albeit very briefly. As they did so, Lucy became aware that the whole caravan was listening intently to her and Beguildy’s exchange. They all began to applaud.

  “Hooray!” Prudence said.

  “Don’t get over-excited, Prue,” Beguildy said acidly.

  “I love an ’appy ending,” Smell said, dabbing at his eye with his paw. “Now, is there any more of them fish-paste sandwiches, Diamond?”

  THE END

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Huge thanks to …

  My agent, Kate Shaw, for being fabulous and wise, as always. My brilliant editor, Harriet Wilson, for tirelessly helping me transform my rambling ideas into coherence. All the rest of the team at HarperCollins Children’s Books, particularly Elisabetta Barbazza for her gorgeous design. Becka Moor for her wonderful illustrations, which capture the story so beautifully. My sister, Nikki Malcolm, along with Claire Lawton, Amanda Harries and the Wards for cheerleading Goodly and Grave. Team Escape – Liz Card, James MacDougall and Heather White, who saved my sanity during difficult times. And, above all, thanks to my husband for putting up with me being completely immersed in another world for so much of the time, and for soothing my irrational worries.

  Books by Justine Windsor

  GOODLY AND GRAVE IN A BAD CASE OF KIDNAP

  GOODLY AND GRAVE IN A DEADLY CASE OF MURDER

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