Hollow Earth (30 page)

FIFTY-NINE

W
hen Mara pushed open the double wooden doors to her studio, the children felt as they often did when they entered this space – that they had stepped into a kind of medieval torture chamber. Glass-making equipment had changed very little since the Middle Ages. There was a giant kiln – high-tech and sleek, but still essentially a boiling hot oven – along with blowtorches, bench burners, rows of picks and rakes for etching designs, and three table-mounted grinding saws.

In stark contrast to her luxurious bedroom, Mara’s studio was vast and gloomy. The only adornment on the dark-brick walls was a high, arched stained-glass window supplying the room’s only natural light. The trio knew Mara had designed and made the glass window herself. As they stood in the centre of the oppressive room, Matt wondered if the Mara they had always known, the one represented by her chic bedroom, was not the real Mara after all.

Em noticed that a lot of Mara’s supplies were in boxes lining the walls. ‘Are you going somewhere?’ she asked.

Mara ignored the question, leading them across the room to a few stools and an easel covered with a drop cloth. From the corner of his eye, Zach saw one of Mara’s glass figures rise a few inches into the air, then drop back on to the table. He cupped his hand on Em’s elbow.

Em, try to control your fears. We’ll be okay.

As Em got closer to the easel, she felt a jolt of electricity rising up from the floor, shooting into the soles of her feet. She jumped, stepping back.

Did you feel that?

They all heard the heavy doors opening and closing behind them. The hooded monk they’d seen in the library stepped into Mara’s studio.

Em gasped. Matt froze. Zach stared, wide-eyed. Without thinking, Matt shoved Em and Zach away from the centre of the room, trying to get as much distance as possible from the robed figure. Bumping against one of Mara’s worktables, he shepherded Em and Zach across the studio until their backs were pressed against the bare brick wall.

The figure had no aura.

Em, it’s real. Not an animation after all.

Is that good or bad?

The monk strode across the room to the children, face hidden in the folds of its hood. Mara handed over three plastic ties.

‘Sit on the floor.’

Frightened at the sight of the hooded figure, the children numbly did as they were told. The first plastic tie was looped through the radiator pipe and then around Matt’s wrist. The figure wrapped the second around Matt’s ankle and then snapped it around Zach’s ankle. Another plastic tie was curved around Zach’s other ankle and tightened on Em’s wrist. As he leaned close to Em, she thought the hooded figure smelled of peppermint and soap, but then the odours sharpened, and she was overwhelmed with the smell of burning wood.

Mara let out an angry yell and ran over to her worktables as one of the bunsen burners suddenly burst into flames, shooting out balls of fire as if it was a cannon. Both boys glanced at Em.

I’m sorry. I’m trying to control my fears, but I’m really scared.

Grabbing a fire-extinguisher from the wall, Mara shot foam at the burner, sending coloured embers dancing into the air. They landed like bright confetti on the cloaked figure’s hood.

‘Control yourselves!’ shouted the hooded figure. A male voice.

Mara had extinguished the flames from the burner, but Em could still smell something burning. She looked down. The hem of Matt’s jeans was on fire.

‘Matt!’

Em yanked a cloth from a bench next to her brother, smothering the flames. Matt’s ankle was raw. Matt brushed Em away.

I’m okay. Leave it. Check on Zach.

Zach was staring at the hooded figure. He looked ashen.

Zach, please snap out of it.

Em, something terrible must have happened to my dad. If he was okay, he’d be here to help us.

The realization that they were on their own was suddenly more terrifying than the robed figure looming in front of them.

‘Your fears are doing this, Emily,’ growled the hooded figure. ‘I need you to calm yourself. No more fire-starting, or I may have to try burning bits of your brother myself.’

Slipping the ornate sketchbook from inside his sleeve, he began to draw, his pen creating a blur of circles and lines on the page. A rocket of flame shot out of the wall directly above Matt’s head, nearly taking off his ear. The three of them cowered on the floor, terrified of what might happen next.

‘I need your full attention and your complete concentration.’ The monk slipped the sketchbook back inside his sleeve. ‘Can you give me that,
ma petite
?’

Now it was Em’s turn to freeze. She recognized his French accent. She didn’t know if she could concentrate the way he wanted her to. Zach reached over, squeezing her hand.

‘Why are you doing this to us, Mara?’ Em asked.

‘Your doe-eyed approach isn’t going to do you any good,’ Mara snapped. ‘I pledged my allegiance to another cause long before you two arrived on this island. Frankly, I’m relieved to stop pretending. After tonight, I can be free of this place.’

Em let out a low breath. They should have stayed in the cave with Vaughn.

‘What cause are you talking about?’ signed Zach.

‘Oh, you’ll find out what our cause is soon enough,’ said the hooded figure. ‘But if you two want to help your mother, and your friend wants to help his father, then you will all need to help us first.’

SIXTY

T
anan pushed back his hood.

‘The first thing you need to do is refrain from animating anything consciously or unconsciously because you’re afraid,’ he said. Em felt his jade-coloured eyes bore into her. ‘I don’t want to be trapped in quicksand again.’

‘But if you’re an Animare,’ asked Em, ‘why didn’t you animate a way out of that?’

Tanan ran his fingers across the cloth draped over the easel. ‘You were both amusing me. Letting you interrogate me with your questions, I found out a few things that have proved useful in my plans.’

‘And how did you get away from the police?’ Em asked. ‘Mara called the Chief Constable, and …’

Mara raised her eyebrows. Em’s voice drifted off as she realized that Mara hadn’t called the police at all.

‘Before I returned to the Abbey with Mara,’ Tanan went on, ‘we sent Blake on her way. Thanks to a Guardian in Glasgow, another member of our Society, she’ll remember very little about her adventure in Scotland.’

Matt’s voice shimmered in Em’s head.
Keep him talking. I have a plan
.

‘Why did you do that to her?’ asked Em, desperately prolonging the conversation. ‘Guardians are only meant to inspirit people if an animation that’s been created in public needs to be forgotten!’

‘Blake was only with me because Sir Charles Wren didn’t trust me to find what he wanted on my own,’ replied Tanan, waving his hand dismissively. ‘She had become a nuisance.’

Em was aware of Matt shifting his hands behind his back so he could reach into his pocket. ‘What is Sir Charles Wren looking for?’ she asked.

‘Something your mother took from him when she left London.’

‘The satchel?’ Em said. ‘What’s in it that’s so important?’

‘What’s in that satchel is of secondary importance.’ Tanan stepped closer to the easel. ‘What I want is something only you two gifted children can provide.’

Em, tell Zach to be ready to get out of here. Get across to Era Mina. Get Vaughn.

Em sneaked a glance at Matt’s free hand. He was gripping a pointed etching tool that he must have palmed when he bumped against Mara’s worktable.

What are you drawing?

A way through the wall behind us.

Em relayed Matt’s words to Zach.

He’ll need to animate fast. As soon as they see what’s happening, they’ll be all over it.

He knows.

‘So what do you want from us?’ asked Em aloud, trying to keep the two adults distracted. ‘And Mara? You were part of our family. How could you treat us this way?’

‘Oh, Em. Always the sentimental one,’ Mara smiled maliciously. ‘It must be the Guardian in your DNA. I’ve never been part of your family. Not really.’

Matt tried to focus on the etching taking shape behind him. His knuckles were bleeding, his skin rubbing raw against the hard stone with every gouge he made into the wall. Afraid Matt’s exertion was becoming obvious, Zach took the conversation literally into his hands.

‘Were you responsible for hurting Renard?’
Be calm, Em, no matter how they answer. We need to keep them from watching Matt too closely
.

Mara sighed wearily, as if every question they put to her was sapping her inner strength. ‘That night all we wanted was the satchel for Sir Charles and some assistance from your mother on another matter. But she disappeared before we had a chance to … ask for her help.’

‘It was never our intention to hurt Renard quite so permanently,’ Tanan added. He looked unrepentant.

Em wanted to scream. She wanted to leap from the floor and punch Mara.

Be still, Em.

‘Of course, in order to maintain my cover at the Abbey,’ added Mara, ‘I had to appear injured in the attack as well.’

‘What do you mean about Mum helping you with “another matter”?’ Em croaked.

‘Blake found something important at the house in Raphael Terrace the morning that you fled London. It didn’t take much for her to take it from that old woman, Violet. She didn’t quite appreciate what it was at the time, and to be quite honest, nor did we,’ said Mara, circling the easel with a kind of nervous energy. ‘It wasn’t until I intercepted the letter Arthur had sent to you that I knew for sure what Tanan and I had always suspected. At last, we know where Malcolm has gone.’

Tanan fingered the edges of the easel. ‘And between your grandfather’s interference and your mother’s disappearing act that night,’ he said softly, ‘let’s just say you two are Plan B.’

Something clicked into place. The secret that her mum had been keeping for years and that Arthur Summers had discovered – the secret he had used to blackmail her … In that barbed moment, Em knew their mother’s terrible secret had everything to do with their dad and his disappearance.

‘I really am sorry about Renard,’ said Mara, patting Em on the head as if she were a puppy. ‘Over the years I’ve learned a lot from him.’

Easy, Em. Do not move away from the wall.

But Em couldn’t take any more. She shifted on to her knees and started screaming.

‘How could you have done such a thing … to Grandpa of all people? He trusted you, Mara … loved you …’

‘Technically, Em, Mara didn’t do anything to your grandfather.’ Tanan pulled away the drop cloth covering the easel, exposing a painting hidden underneath. ‘This did most of the damage.’

The cloaked crone and her evil child looked even uglier in the picture than when they had seen the figure of the changeling in the library. The witch appeared to shift slightly, tightening her arms around the dwarfish creature in her lap. The changeling’s bulbous forehead began pulsing like a heartbeat under its skin. As the boys looked away in terror, the creature’s beady yellow eyes followed their movement.

Em couldn’t tear her eyes away. Her disordered mind was being pulled into the painting, the shadowy figures opening their arms to her. She could feel a terrible hunger from them, as if they wanted her warmth and her goodness.
Em, Em …
The wizened crone was calling, her voice melodic and comforting. Em wanted to crawl into her arms.

Em! Look away. You have to look away!

SIXTY-ONE

Z
ach grabbed Em’s hand and squeezed.
C’mon Em. Look at me. Look at me.

After what seemed like the longest minute of his life, Em turned and held Zach’s gaze, blinking back tears. Matt etched faster into the bricks behind him.

‘So is this the painting that was stolen from the National Gallery the day we left London?’ asked Em, when she was able to speak again.

Tanan seemed unable to keep his fingers away from the edge of the painting’s tarnished frame. ‘Once the painting had served its purpose at the gallery that day by killing Arthur Summers, I gave it to Mara.’