Alistair Grim's Odditorium (24 page)

The inside of my head grew heavy, and I felt a tingling behind my eyeballs. Then all at once the singing grew louder and I felt myself being pulled forward.

“The song,” I said. “It’s—it’s—
beautiful
.”

“What’s wrong, Grubb?” Nigel called out from somewhere far behind me.

“What on earth?” said Lord Dreary. “Do you hear that singing, Alistair?”

The black shape drew closer, and I thought I heard myself tell Number One to fly toward it, but the voice upon my lips seemed not to be my own.

“The song,” I said to myself. “The song…”

“Good heavens!” cried Mr. Grim. “Stop your ears! All of you! Don’t—listen—it’s—it’s—
beautiful
!”

“Beautiful!” Nigel and Lord Dreary said together.

And then I heard Mrs. Pinch cry out in horror.

Wonder what all the fuss is about, I thought. No matter. Just listen to the song.

Yes, all that mattered now was the song, and the shape—no, not a shape, but a figure. Yes, that was it! A black figure of a bird flying toward me…“Snap out of it, Mr.
Grim!” shouted Mrs. Pinch. “All of you, snap out of it!”

“It’s too late!” said Cleona. “Look!”

Is it a bird? I wondered. Or is it a woman?

“Come back, Number One!” Mrs. Pinch called from somewhere behind me. “Oh, where did she fly off to? I can’t see her!”

“She’ll only obey Grubb!” cried Cleona. “Only Uncle can command her otherwise!”

Yes! I thought. It’s a woman! But then the woman broke apart. “No,” I heard myself say. “Not just one woman, but
five
!”

“Don’t listen to them, Grubb!” shouted Mrs. Pinch, but her voice was far away. “Where is the boy? Can you see the boy, Cleona?”

“They’ve got him, too!” Cleona cried. “The samurai, Mrs. Pinch! Go get the samurai!”

In the blue light from Number One’s eyes I could clearly see the women as they fanned out beside the leader—five
beautiful
women, with ivory skin and flowing black hair, flying
toward me on the wings of angels.

“Angels,” I whispered.

And their song…they were singing the most beautiful song I’d ever heard.

“Beautiful,” was all I could say.

The women, one of whom carried a large black barrel, were closer now. Four of them flew past me toward the Odditorium while one remained behind—hovering there in midair with her arms
extended only a few feet away from Number One’s antennae.

“Are you an angel?” I asked.

“Come to me, child,” she said, beckoning, but her singing continued in my head.

How can she speak and sing at the same time? I wondered.

It doesn’t matter
, I thought.

“Come to me, child,” the angel said again, and only then did I realize I was standing on Number One’s back.

“No, Cleona, you’ll die!” cried Mrs. Pinch from somewhere, but again the voice in my head told me it didn’t matter.

“That’s it,” said the angel. “Jump, my child. Jump!”

And so I jumped.

Time seemed to slow down, and as I floated in slow motion toward the angel, her face dissolved into a horrible mask of slimy blue scales. Her eyes glowed as red as two burning coals, and her
lips parted wide to reveal a forked serpent’s tongue slithering out between a pair of fangs.

“You’re mine!” the angel hissed.

No, not an angel, I realized in horror, but a monster!

And then her claws reached out to catch me.

I tried to scream, but my throat would not allow it—when suddenly a blinding blue light flashed across my eyes.

“Noooooo!”
Cleona cried, close beside me now, and the monster hissed and shielded her eyes.

“Cleona?” I whispered in a daze, and then there she was, looking down at me.

“Sirens,” Cleona said, straining to speak. “Trying to—drown you—”

“Sirens?” I muttered, shaking my head. The singing had stopped. And I was vaguely aware of being carried—yes, that was it. Cleona had caught me and was now carrying me in her
arms. But then everything—the stars, the sea, the Odditorium—began to swirl around me in a haze. I could see that I was heading back toward the balcony, but something was happening
there. A brawl of some sort.

There were samurai everywhere, and Mr. Grim stood atop his pipe organ as if he meant to jump. Mrs. Pinch uttered a strange incantation, and then Broom flew of her own accord straight for one of
the Sirens.

The Siren shrieked, and Broom began beating her in midair. Mrs. Pinch pulled Mr. Grim back onto the balcony, and the two of them fell out of sight behind the pipe organ. Nigel just stood there
in a daze as the samurai slashed away at the Sirens. And Lord Dreary—incredibly, Lord Dreary was brawling with a samurai too.

“Unhand me!” he shouted as the warrior wrestled him back inside the library. “I want to go with them! I want to go!”

The Sirens darted this way and that, screeching and batting their claws, and then one of them grabbed hold of Broom and snapped her in half.

At the same time, a samurai warrior leaped atop Mr. Grim’s pipe organ and cut the Siren down. The Siren shrieked and plummeted toward the sea—her great black barrel and the broken
broomstick plummeting into the water after her with a splash.

“Water?” I said, my head beginning to clear. “What was that again about banshees and water?”

“Cleona!” cried Mrs. Pinch, popping her head over the balustrade. “Come back, Cleona!”

“Cleona?” I muttered, trying to remember what Mr. Grim had said. But when I saw the look of sorrow in Cleona’s eyes, when I saw the pain in her face and her blue light begin to
dim, in a rush my senses returned to me.

“No!” I cried. “You’re not supposed to fly over water!”

But the tears flowing down her cheeks told me it was too late.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice weak and raspy. “I don’t even have the strength to wail for you.”

“The banshee!” hissed one of the Sirens.

“The barrel!” hissed another. “Get the barrel before it sinks!”

Cleona’s glow began to flicker and flash. I could see the stars behind her eyes. And then the two of us were falling.

“Cleona!” I cried again, reaching out, but my hands passed right through her!

The Sirens screeched and Mrs. Pinch cried out, but all I could see was Cleona, flickering and slipping away from me as we fell.

“Grab hold of me, Cleona!”

“I—I can’t,” she whispered, and without thinking I shouted:

“Catch us, Number One!”

Whereas time had seemed to slow down when I’d jumped toward the Siren, time now seemed to speed up. And as Cleona and I tumbled together toward the sea, she used the very last bit of her
strength to solidify her hand and grab hold of my coat. But as she did so, the rest of her began to dissolve before my eyes.

“Hold on, Cleona!” I said. “Hold on!”

The silver waves rushed up at us with maddening speed—when finally, just as we were about to hit the water, Number One’s claws clamped round my shoulders.

“Hurry, Number One!” I said as she whisked us away. “Throw us on your back and fly higher!”

“It’s too late,” Cleona moaned, her face now invisible beneath her hair. But then Number One flung us over her shoulders and we landed safely between her wings.

“Cleona!” I cried, grasping her hand. “Come back!”

“Grubb…” she croaked, and then all but her hand flickered out.

“Come back! You’re safe now! Number One’s magic paint will protect you!”

Cleona’s hand flickered once inside my own, and then my fingers closed around the empty air.

“No!” I screamed, the tears beginning to flow. “You can’t die, Cleona! You can’t—”

Miraculously, Cleona’s hand reappeared at my side.

“Cleona!” I cried with relief.

And with that the rest of her began to take shape—foggy and dim, but at the same time clear enough for me to see that she was sleeping with her head on my chest. I could not feel her body
against my own, but I cradled her in my arms as if I could.

“That’s it, Cleona,” I said, her light growing brighter, her features more defined. “You’re safe now. We’ll get you back to the Odditorium so you
can—”

“Grubb!” screamed Mrs. Pinch, but when I looked up from Cleona’s sleeping face, instead of the Odditorium, I saw that we were surrounded by the Sirens.

I gasped.

And then the monsters swept Cleona and me up into their big black barrel.

C
ome on, lad,” the man said. “Wake up, now.”

“Coming, Mr. Smears,” I said groggily, but a sinking feeling in my head told me I’d be much better off if I just stayed asleep.

“No, no, no,” said the man, and he gently slapped my cheeks. “Come around, now, lad.”

The sinking feeling at once turned to orange-colored waking. I blinked open my eyes and immediately gasped in horror when I saw the face staring down at me.

“Judge Hurst!” I cried. But as I tried to back away, my head bumped against something hard.

“That’ll wake you,” the judge chuckled. “Unless you knock yourself out again.”

I rubbed my head and, gazing round, discovered that I was lying on the floor in a dark, windowless prison cell. The walls were black, like the Odditorium’s, but the red glow streaming in
through a porthole in the door told me I was someplace else.

And then there was the man sitting next to me—a man who Mr. Grim would never allow inside the Odditorium, a man who Mr. Grim suspected not only of murdering Abel Wortley, but also of being
Prince Nightshade himself.

I began to panic.

“Where am I?” I cried. “What have you done with Cleona?”

“Cleona?” said Judge Hurst. “Who is Cleona?”

“Don’t pretend! I know you know where she is!”

“I don’t know what you’re—”

“Cleona!”

“Quiet, lad!”

I tried to get up, but the judge pulled me back down.

“Do you want them to come back?” he hissed.

“Let go!” I said, struggling. “I know who you are! I know what you did to—”

Thankfully, the judge clamped his hand over my mouth before I said,
William Stout
. Yes, I thought, given his habit of hanging people, the less Judge Hurst knew about what Nigel had told
me the better.

“Now, you listen to me,” the judge said. “I don’t know any Cleona, but I do know that if you don’t pipe down, those armored skeletons will come back. And believe
me, lad, you don’t want them to come back.”

The judge turned his face to show me his cheek. It was badly bruised, and I could see traces of dried blood in his beard. His hair stuck out from his head in dirty gray clumps, and his clothes
were soiled and ragged.

“Now,” he said, “if you wish to find this Cleona, you’ve got to keep your head. If you promise to keep your voice down, I’ll let you go, all right?”

I nodded, and the judge removed his hand from my mouth.

“That’s better,” he said. “Now, first things first. As you seem to know who I am, would you mind telling me who you are?”

“My name is Grubb, sir,” I said warily.

“Grubb?”

“That’s right, sir. No first or last name, just Grubb with a double
b
.”

“Ah yes. You’re the boy from the Odditorium, aren’t you? The one who caused all that fuss with the handbills?”

“Yes, sir, I’m afraid I am.”

“I thought I recognized you when they dropped you off in here. Wish we could have met under different circumstances, but a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Grubb.”

“Where are we, sir?”

Judge Hurst made a grand, sweeping gesture with his hand. “Why, a castle dungeon in the clouds, of course,” he said mockingly. “I’ve been a prisoner here since yesterday.
Or has it been two days? I can’t seem to remember. Ever since that winged monster whisked me away from London, I’ve had a hard go keeping track of the time.”

“The Black Fairy.”

“Come again?”

“The Black Fairy, sir. He’s the one who brought you here.”

“Fairy, did you say?” the judge asked, and I nodded. “Well, how about that. Not what I’d expect from a fairy. Although, he’s a peach compared to those skeleton
soldiers. Ill-mannered chaps, the lot of them, and certainly not ones for London Prize Ring rules.”

Judge Hurst rubbed the bruise on his cheek. If the old man really was Prince Nightshade, what would he be doing all battered up in a dungeon?