Pip and the Wood Witch Curse (7 page)

“I want to know where the Duprie child has gone,” said Jarvis. “What news do you have?” He brushed some breadcrumbs under her beak.

“I have news from Silas, sir. She is on the move. She may be disguised, but we have no idea how.”

“Do you think I am stupid, Esther? Of course she is on the move. Their home has been ransacked. Of course she’ll be disguised. Tell me something I don’t know and don’t tell me you paid Silas for that information.”

“She may be using the river to pass up and down the city. There are rumors of a small boat.”

“What rumors?”

“A boat was tethered to the Firefly Bridge. It disappeared at the same time the Duprie girl went on the run.”

Jarvis stared hard back at her. “You know I don’t like water.”

“Maybe she doesn’t like it either. She may have been forced to row upstream to avoid the city folk.”

“Esther, if you feel sympathy toward those little rats, don’t ever let it slip in front of me. If I ever lay my hands on that dreadful child she will wish she had perished in that water.”

Toad looked at Pip and Pip stared back. Jarvis really was the villain that Toad had described. He really did hate children.

“If she escapes outside the city gates she’ll never make it alive. I’ll bet my shiny hook that she is heading into the heart of the hollow,” said Jarvis. “The day I rid this place of all its children will be a happy one. Ah, if only we could find Captain Dooley,” he sighed, sipping at the froth of his ale. “Then all our troubles would be solved.”

“No one knows where Captain Dooley is. Not even Silas,” Esther assured him.

“Captain Dooley?” whispered Pip, staring questioningly at Toad. “Who on earth is Captain Dooley?”

Toad held his finger to his lips. “Later,” he whispered.

Just then Esther spilled Jarvis’s drink and ale poured through the floorboards on to Pip and Toad.

“Uurgh!” said Pip.

“Sshhh!” hissed Toad. “Come on. We should get up to the annex.”

But something held them back. As they were about to leave they realized that Jarvis had been joined at his table. Toad pushed his face up to the gap to see who it was.

“Hector Stubbs!” he whispered to Pip, his eyes wide.

Pip said nothing, but made a gesture with open arms. Who was Hector Stubbs?

“He’s another one to look out for,” continued Toad. “If there’s a raid from the authorities in the night, he’ll be the one at the front banging the door down. If there’s a fight with the forest folk he’ll be the first to stick the knife in. He wants every child under his guard with a sword in one hand and a shield in the other, to build his army, to take up war against the woods. He wants to protect the city, but to do it he wants to take you to war. And woe betide anyone caught concealing children from him.”

Pip sneaked a look. The man was stocky and short. He had shoulder-length hair, a broad face, and a downturned mouth. The ornate handle of some kind of weapon was at his waist. His cloak trailed on the floor above them.

The boys listened intently.

“Do you have word of anything?” asked Stubbs. His words came slowly and menacingly.

Jarvis started to answer, but Stubbs interrupted. “Barman, bring me a drink. Ale will do.”

Sam nodded his head. He didn’t take too kindly to the man’s lack of good manners, but he knew he should be careful.

“I’m … following a few leads,” hissed Jarvis, cowering in his seat. “I may have news before too long.”

“Really?” said Stubbs. “I heard a rumor. And the rumor was that you were spending too much time in that forest!”

Jarvis shrank into his seat. Esther was concealed inside his cloak and she lay still with her eyes closed. “You never know where those kids might be hiding. I search everywhere, Mister Stubbs. ’Tis my job.”

Stubbs carried on, dismissing Jarvis’s mumblings. “Some people think that you might be trading children with those forest freaks and that you’re making a fool of me in the process. I even heard you’d got yourself a little feathered companion, just like those darned witches.” Stubbs paused, studying the intricate carving on his tankard and swilling beer around his mouth. “If I find out you’re dealing with those monsters, I’ll hang you at the city gates. Do you understand me?”

“You have my word, sir,” whispered Jarvis.

“I want those kids, and soon. That’s what you’re here for.”

Pip and Toad turned to look at each other. Their eyes met. Their mouths stayed shut.

They left the cellar and climbed the stairs in candlelit secrecy.

In a short while Pip was in bed. He wondered what was happening in the orphanage and despite all of its troubles he wished he was back there.

Toad kicked off his boots and climbed under his rug.

“You’ve taken your boots off.”

“Oh, I don’t bother with the old man’s rule. I can have my feet together before he’s even woken,” Toad grinned.

They talked away into the night, the moon piercing through a slit in the curtain. Toad told dark tales in the silvery light: of the wood creatures and their trickery, of how the witches turned the milk sour in the dairy, sent swarms of flies among the market traders, punished them with boiling rain. Of how the bark demons came in the night, nailing dead rabbits to the doors of those they believed to be harboring children. How they sneaked throu the streets in the dead hours, spying at doorways and listening down chimney pots to catch the fireside talk.

“Once,” said Toad, sitting up in his bed as he remembered the tale, “a family, the Westleys, were sitting around the fire at night, and an old witch perched on the chimney pot. Her crow had tried every house in the street and this one seemed promising so she had gone to fetch her mistress. They sat together and listened to the children laughing and talking. The parents appeared outside, filling buckets from the water pump, unaware that they were being watched. The old hag took her chance and crawled down the chimney. The Westley children were never seen again.”

“How could you know this?”

“A neighbor was watching from across the street, too frightened to move from their own home or raise the alarm.”

Pip pulled his blankets up farther. He found Toad’s stories terrifying. It wasn’t just the tales themselves but Toad’s way of telling them, as if he somehow enjoyed it.

“Who is Captain Dooley?” he asked, thinking that some other subject might ease him into sleep.

“Oh, that old story.” Toad had hoped he’d forgotten. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell Pip, it was just that he could see that Pip was already frightened.

But perhaps it was better that he knew.

“In the early years a toymaker named Von Shteppel worked in the town. His shop still sits in the square, except that now it’s boarded up and has been for many, many years. Without knowing it, he crafted a toy from Spindlewood. He gave it to his daughter. One day, Annie Von Shteppel was chased through the woods by witches. While running to hide from her pursuers she lost her doll, a solid figure of a soldier from the civil war. Captain Dooley, she called him. But unbeknownst to Annie, the Spindlewood curse ran through his woody veins and he betrayed her. When the witches found him, he told them where she was hiding. And no matter where she ran, they found her.

“They kept hold of that little wooden figure until he led them to all the children in the hollow. Some escaped and some didn’t, but in the end, like all favorite toys, it seems that Captain Dooley himself became lost again.”

A shiver ran down Pip’s spine.

“Is that a true story?” he asked. “Does Captain Dooley really exist?”

“Maybe he does and maybe he doesn’t!” said Toad. “I couldn’t tell you for sure. I can only tell you what was told to me. But one thing I can tell you, Pip. We must find Frankie Duprie before Jarvis does.

“But first things first. Tomorrow, I need to show you our escape route from the tavern. It takes us into the city. Good night,” said Toad, and he was asleep before Pip had even closed his eyes.

“Good night,” murmured Pip, knowing that his haunting dream would soon return.

The biggest problem was Toad’s father, Sam. He wouldn’t approve of them leaving the tavern. But that didn’t suit Toad, he was far too adventurous. Pip had come to notice that Toad wasn’t one for staying still. He was always on the go, always had a plan or a tale to tell. If he was upstairs he would find a reason to go down. Never in the same place for long, despite being cooped up in the house.