The Nowhere Emporium (9 page)

“Ellie! This is your fault.”

Daniel stormed down a passageway of shimmering black brick, trailing Ellie behind.

“Sorry,” she said, trying not to laugh. “You look great. Really.”

“This,” said Daniel, grabbing a handful of the black lace ruffles spilling from his orange suit, “does not look great! How could it possibly look great?” He turned and strode off with as much dignity as he could.

“How many times do you want me to apologise?” asked Ellie, catching him up. “Papa asked me what I thought you might like to wear. I couldn’t resist. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same to me, because I know you would!”

“I’ll get you back for this.”

They reached a grand set of arched black doors. A single word had been painted on its nameplate in flowery letters:

Daniel pulled on the golden door handles, and the doors swung open.

A huge, circular Wonder opened up before him, with a marble
floor and a high domed ceiling of deepest black, finished with scattered golden stars. The wall of the ballroom was made entirely of glass, circular and continuous, looking out towards the illusion of a clear night sky and an impossibly large full moon.

The floor was crowded with guests in orange, black and gold. Many had been cornered by members of the Emporium staff, who were excited by the rare opportunity to speak freely with those from beyond the shop’s walls. Ghostly waiters walked among the guests. They carried golden trays neatly stacked with goblets of orange liquid, piles of chocolate bats and liquorice spiders, apples coated in rich caramel and chocolate, all filling the room with delicious sweet scents.

A hush began to fall over the crowd. Heads turned towards a raised circular platform in the centre of the floor, where a ghostly brass band had assembled.

And then the band began to play.

Waves of music swept the ballroom, enveloping guests and staff alike, carrying them off into waltzes and spins and toe-tapping, high-kicking barn dances.

Daniel could not resist the urge to dance. He felt a hand on his arm, found himself on the floor with Anja, the snake-charmer. They danced until Daniel could dance no more, and he went to the edge of the room to catch his breath. Ellie showed no signs of stopping; she hadn’t left the dance floor all evening, and it seemed to Daniel that this was the happiest he’d seen her look.

A waiter passed by, offering him a goblet.

“What is it?” he asked, trying not to be too distracted by the fact he could see through the waiter.

“Pumpkin mead.”

Daniel took a goblet and sipped the liquid. It warmed his insides, like drinking the memory of an autumn night sat by the bonfire. He had drained the last drop from the glass when
he turned and clipped the arm of an extremely tall man in a charcoal suit, dropping his goblet with a clatter.

“I’m sorry,” said Daniel, but when he straightened up, the man was already gone.

Mr Silver walked the far side of the ballroom, sips of pumpkin mead warming him as he watched his daughter watching everyone else. He cut through circles of chattering guests, dodging waltzing couples, catching snippets of stolen conversation.

He smiled as he passed Caleb, who had cornered several guests from the outside world: “Tell me: is it true that the moon out there is made from cheese? And if so, what sort of cheese? Nothing too crumbly or runny, I’ll bet…”

Silver stopped and finished his mead, glancing up at the chandelier high above.

Something in the corner of his eye bothered him.

He turned his head.

Everything – the music and the chatter, the graceful movement of the dancing guests, the waiters and the gleaming chandelier – seemed to stop.

Mr Silver’s grey eyes fixed upon the blue eyes of the man striding through the crowd towards him. He recognised him at once.

As Vindictus Sharpe approached, he removed his bowler hat, stopping so close to Silver that their chests almost touched. The air crackled and sparked around them.

Mr Silver’s face was as colourless as one of his ghostly waiters. His mouth was shut tight, his expression frozen, unreadable.

“You are a difficult man to find, Lucien,” said Sharpe.

“I do my best,” Mr Silver whispered.

Sharpe’s mouth curled into something that might have been a smile, and might have been a sneer. He leaned in slowly, deliberately, and whispered something in Mr Silver’s ear. Then he straightened up once more. He waited.

At first, Mr Silver did nothing but look at the floor. When he raised his head at last, his face was heavy with sadness.

He managed a slow nod.

Sharpe offered a handshake.

When their hands touched, lights around the hall began to flicker. A few bulbs blew out, spitting shards of glass among the feet of the guests, who gasped and shrieked and laughed, believing it to be part of the entertainment.

A flash of white teeth from Sharpe, and he turned and began to walk away through the crowd.

Mr Silver watched him as he left the ballroom, standing frozen among the sea of sparkling dancers.

Raindrops the size of marbles pelted the fine oak coffin as it was lowered into the soil on an unseasonably cold Edinburgh spring day.

News of Birdie’s passing had taken flight, crossing oceans and continents, and many of the entertainers with whom she had worked over the years had come to pay their respects, shivering together beneath a canopy of black umbrellas.

Lucien Silver stood near the mouth of the grave and listened as the minister delivered Birdie’s eulogy. Vindictus Sharpe stood at Lucien’s side, tall and dark and silent as a shadow. Neither acknowledged the presence of the other.

When the funeral was over, mourners began to filter away towards the shelter of waiting carriages. Lucien stayed by the graveside while Sharpe shook hands and exchanged brief words with a number of guests. When the last of the mourners was gone, he walked back up the hill.

They stood in silence for a time.

Sharpe turned his head, though not enough to make eye contact.

“Your services are no longer required,” he said, flexing the
fingers of a gloved hand. “This … experiment has run its course. Teaching is not for me. I imagine this does not come as a shock to you?”

Lucien said nothing.

“You will be sent your portion of last night’s takings, of course.”

“I don’t want it,” Lucien said. “Last night’s performance was for Birdie.”

Sharpe gave a single nod. “Very well.”

He turned and began the walk back down the hill.

Lucien gazed after him. “I can’t help that I’m better than you,” he said. “I only ever did what you asked, and I was good at my job. You turned it into a competition, not me.”

He had uttered the words in barely more than a whisper. But in the silence of a graveyard, even soft-spoken words can become immensely powerful things.

Sharpe stopped. He did not turn around.

“You are not better than me,” he said. There was an edge to his voice, dark and dangerous. “You will never be better than me. I rescued you from the gutter, and that is where I expect you to return now that you don’t have my coat-tails to ride upon, or a foolish old woman like Birdie to protect you.”

Lucien glared. “Must be strange for you, being in a graveyard, hmm? Considering you don’t ever intend to die. I’ve always been too afraid to ask why you never get any older. But I think I might be piecing together the answer. You steal time from other people, don’t you? You make their lives shorter so that you can extend your own. How can you live with yourself?”

A long silence.

At last, his back still turned, Sharpe said, “Goodbye, Mr Silver. Good luck.”

Lucien watched his former employer wind down the path
towards the comfort of his carriage. When the slick black horses had pulled Sharpe through the iron gates, it occurred to Lucien that a very long and interesting chapter of his life had come to an end.

He turned his attention once more to the fresh grave at his feet.

Reaching into his coat, he produced a single long-stemmed red rose. With the wave of a hand, the stem of the rose became black as coal, and the petals were coated in shining gold.

Lucien placed the black-gold rose on the headstone.

“Goodbye, Birdie.”

Rain washed the tears from his face as he trudged down the hill towards the gates and the world beyond. And the world was a big, big place. Lucien did not know where to go, or what to do next. His fingers touched the book in his coat pocket, its pages full of dreams, imaginings and possibilities, and somehow he did not feel quite so lost.

Without knowing why, he began to smile.

Then, with a final glance to the top of the hill, Lucien Silver walked through the cemetery gates and away.

Mr Silver vanished the day after Ellie’s birthday ball. It was a Sunday, and the sky was heavy with black clouds and thunder.

“Papa has never missed opening time before.” Ellie stood at the window, tapping her foot on the floor. “Something’s wrong.”

Daniel had to agree. In the few months he had been a part of Mr Silver’s world, he’d never once seen his boss open the shop so much as a second late.

“I wonder if he…” Daniel’s voice trailed away. Something lay on the floor under Mr Silver’s desk. He picked it up and fanned through its many pages.

The
Book of Wonders.

“Ellie, have you ever known your papa to leave this lying around?”

Ellie edged towards him. She reached out trembling fingers and touched the book.

“It looks like it’s been … it’s been burned or something.”

She was right. The ends of some of the pages were blackened, and Daniel found a cluster of shrivelled pages where Wonders had been scorched away. As they examined the book, a loose scrap of paper fell out. Ellie grabbed it.

“It’s part of a note! From Papa!”

“What?” said Daniel. “What’s it say? Let me see.” He craned
over her shoulder, and read:

The message ended abruptly.

“That’s it?” said Daniel. “That can’t be it!” He picked up the paper, stared at the ragged edge where the rest of the message had obviously been burned away. “Brilliant. Whatever burned the book destroyed the note as well, and your dad’s plan.”

Ellie was staring at the message, shaking her head.

“What’s happened? What does he mean? That stuff about the Emporium being dangerous … Where is he, Daniel?”

Daniel pointed to the coat stand. “Look. His coat is still hanging up. I don’t think he’s gone outside. Maybe we should just wait here like he says. I’ve ignored his orders before and it didn’t end well.”

Ellie shook her head.

“He only wanted us to stay here so we could follow his plan – and we don’t know what that is, do we? We have to find him and tell him we’re in the dark. He’s probably relying on us, Daniel.”

Mr Silver’s apartments were the logical place to begin the search. They found the door open a fraction, and a labyrinth of grand chambers lay in wait, each made entirely from books.

As he searched, Daniel was distracted time and again by the strange and wonderful surroundings in which Mr Silver chose to live. He found Ellie in a garden of books, under a huge tree blossoming with intricately folded pages.

“He’s not here,” she said, and she kicked the trunk of the tree, shaking pages to the paper floor.

“Maybe we should go back to the shop?” said Daniel.

“But his note made it sound like he won’t be back any time soon, didn’t it?” Ellie said. “He’s so infuriating sometimes, with his secrets! Why didn’t he just tell us what’s going on?”

“So we just keep looking, without a plan?” said Daniel. “How many rooms in the Emporium? A thousand? How are we supposed to check them all?” A thought flared to life in his mind. “Search parties!”

The lobby of the Nowhere Hotel was packed with impatient performers and vendors, eager to start work. This was the way of things: every day the staff would gather dressed to the nines in black and gold, checking pocket watches and timepieces until the glorious moment when twilight cloaked the world outside and the doors of the Emporium opened.

“’Scuse me. Sorry.” Daniel pushed and squirmed through the pack, looking for Caleb and Anja. “Ouch! Watch it! Hey, there they are! Ellie, I found them!”

The fire-breather and snake-charmer were standing together, as they always seemed to be. Caleb stood a full head taller than everyone apart from Anja, and was holding court amid a group of
vendors.

“So, out there in the real world, not only is the moon four hundred times smaller than the sun, it is four hundred times closer. So they appear the same size in the sky. And when they meet, the moon covers the sun completely! Day turns to night! And not a bit of magic is used! Now that is a wonder!”

Anja, who looked like she might fall asleep at any minute, caught sight of Daniel.

“Daniel! Ellie!”

Caleb broke off from his story. “What brings you two around here? And what’s all this about?” he asked, pointing to the crowd. “We’re late opening up. Never been late before.”

“Papa’s missing,” said Ellie. “We found his
Book of Wonders
in the shop, all burned and bashed. And this note!” She handed the note to Caleb, whose face became grave.

“Missing?” he asked. “At opening time?” He exchanged glances with Anja. “That isn’t right. No, no, no. Won’t do at all.”

“Will you ask the rest of the staff to search with us?” said Daniel. “It’d give us a better chance of finding him.”

Caleb scratched the stubble on his square chin.

“I don’t know,” he said gravely. “What if he turns up? What if he suddenly opens the doors and none of us are anywhere to be seen because we’re off searching the Emporium?”

“Read the note,” said Daniel. “Doesn’t sound like he’ll be opening the Emporium, does it? He says it’s dangerous. We need to find him, Caleb. We’ve got to know what’s going on and what his plan is.”

“If the Emporium’s in danger, it means we’re all in danger too,” added Ellie. “I don’t think Papa would abandon us. I think he’s in here somewhere. We’re worried about him, Caleb.”

Anja said, “It does seem to be an emergency, Caleb. What if he’s ill, or has fallen and banged his head? Or what if one of
his Wonders is misbehaving?” She turned to Daniel. “It happens very rarely. Doors are left open. Things escape. Last time it was flying pencils. Very sharp.”

Caleb gave a thoughtful nod. “That was an interesting day.” He shook his big head. “But I’m sorry; we can’t help. Rules are rules. We were created for one purpose: we must be ready always to take our posts.”

Ellie looked crestfallen, but Daniel was getting an idea.

“I could make it worth your while,” he said. “I could smuggle you something in from the outside world, eh? Come on. There must be something you want?”

Caleb peered down at him.

“Are you offering me a bribe, Daniel Holmes?”

“A bribe?” said Daniel, his eyes wide. “Not me. Just a gift. A way of saying thanks.”

Caleb mulled this over. He scratched his big chin. “Very well. I want a kitten. A fluffy one.” He shook Daniel’s hand, then turned to the rest of the lobby. “Attention! We have a job to do!”

Word spread quickly through the lobby: Mr Silver was missing. Everyone was chattering and gossiping, agreeing that the loss of their leader was the worst disaster that could possibly happen.

“What’ll we do without him?”

“We’re lost!”

“This place won’t last a week!”

And so the search was on.

There were many members of staff, many pairs of eyes and ears. They scoured the Emporium’s catacomb of passages and doorways. They searched through vaults and tunnels in a basement that seemed to be mined into the earth. They climbed the very highest staircases,
where the air was thin and cold and filled with crystal flakes of ice. They even rediscovered a long lost section of the Emporium, buried under a rainforest that had spilled from an open door.

But there was no trace of Mr Silver.

To add to the worry, many search parties returned with news of strange cracks appearing on the Emporium walls, white lines crawling over black bricks like jagged spider trails. In some places it was worse than others. There was even a rumour that one of the corridors had collapsed.

“It is as if he has vanished,” said Caleb, after yet another search party had reported no success. He clicked his fingers. “Gone. Poof. Like that. Are you very sure he hasn’t left the shop?”

“He wouldn’t leave the Emporium without the book,” said Ellie. “It’s practically part of him.”

“Then I am sorry to say I’m stumped.”

Daniel’s mind was ticking. It just didn’t add up. Why would Silver vanish? If the Emporium was in trouble, as his note suggested and the cracks in the walls confirmed, then Mr Silver would be the last to leave; Daniel knew that. And why had he dumped the book?

“Wait a minute,” he said. “When we got to New York, Mr Silver finally found his ‘treasure’ – whatever he’d been searching for. And now, a few days later, he’s gone. That can’t be a coincidence, can it?”

“But what was the treasure?” said Ellie. “Was it something dangerous? And why would he disappear with it?”

Daniel shook his head.

“There’s only one way to find out. I guess I’m heading back to Bizarre’s Bazaar.”