The Skeleton Clock Page 7

  They were ankle deep in water. Pale light shone in from behind them. The room was almost unrecognisable. The portrait was hanging crooked, the woman lopsided as she watched them. The cases were broken and toppled. The tall glass display cabinet close to the window had been knocked over, the cars and toys and china and glassware scattered and broken and lost in the swirling water.

  The door was gone. A ragged hole in the wall showed where the nightmare creature had forced its way through, taking the doorframe and part of the wall with it.

  Jake and Sarah splashed their way across the room. The water got shallower until the floor in the corridor outside was just wet. Sarah was a dark shape in the gloom. Another dark shape reared up in front of them. A tentacle whipped out, slamming against the wood panelling, sending a picture flying past Jake’s head.

  He ripped open the nearest door. ‘In here!’

  They fell into the room, just as an enormous bulbous shape slithered down the corridor. It paused in the doorway, Jake and Sarah holding their breath. A tentacle felt carefully round the door as they backed slowly, silently away. Then the creature slithered on, leaving an oily trail glistening on the damp floor behind it.

  ‘That was close,’ Sarah whispered, pushing the door closed.

  But before Jake could answer, they both heard the sound of a ragged breathing from close behind them. Slowly, they turned, dreading what they might see.

  The power had gone off. But there was a flickering light from an oil lamp standing on a low side table. Enough for Jake to see that they were in the library where they’d had tea just minutes before. An indistinct shape moved on the floor close by. It seemed to unfold and expand.

  Sarah was scrabbling at the door, dragging it open again.

  Jake was staring horrified at the shape on the floor. ‘Wait,’ he said quietly as he realised what it was. Or rather, who it was. ‘It’s Atherton.’

  The man was struggling to sit up. Even in the uncertain light, Jake could see one side of his face was plastered with blood. His suit was soaked and stained and torn. He tried to speak, but his voice was an incoherent, coughing rasp.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Jake said. ‘We’re here. We’ll get help.’

  Sarah knelt beside Atherton, examining his head. When she looked up at Jake, her own face was pale and her eyes wide with shock.

  ‘Lock,’ Atherton spluttered.

  ‘Don’t try to speak,’ Sarah said. ‘I think that thing is going. We don’t need to lock the door.’

  Atherton struggled to shake his head. ‘Lock,’ he said again.

  ‘What can we do?’ Jake asked. But from Sarah’s expression he knew there was nothing.

  ‘Don’t let Azuras get it,’ Atherton said. He took a deep rattling breath. ‘Mustn’t get it.’

  ‘Azuras?’ Jake looked at Sarah. ‘What’s he talking about? Is he delirious?’

  Atherton’s fingers clutched at Jake’s sleeve. Shaking, and weak. ‘Keep it safe,’ he wheezed. ‘I got it from…’ He broke off, coughing violently, his whole body shaking. ‘Centuries old. It must never be returned to Azuras.’ His fingers slipped away and he scrabbled to grab Jake’s hand. ‘Promise me,’ he said. But his voice was fading. A trickle of blood escaped from the side of his trembling mouth. ‘Promise me you’ll keep it safe.’

  Somewhere outside a door slammed shut. Sarah looked up.

  ‘We promise,’ Jake said quickly, looking from Atherton to Sarah as she stood up and tip-toed to the door, listening. ‘But what is it? What must we keep safe?’

  He could barely whisper now. Jake pressed his head close to the dying man’s mouth.

  ‘Someone’s coming,’ Sarah hissed, running back to join them. ‘Not that thing. Footsteps.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Jake said, almost crying with relief. ‘Help’s arriving.’

  ‘No,’ Atherton gasped. ‘Not here to help. Here for… Don’t let them get…’

  ‘What?’ Sarah said. ‘Don’t let them get what?’

  ‘Clock,’ Atherton whispered. ‘He’ll kill you for it. He might get the pieces, but he must never get my clock. Promise me!’ His hand gripped Jake’s tight, just for a moment. Then his fingers opened, and his hand slipped away.

  Jake and Sarah stared at each other in the flickering light. Jake slowly lowered the dead man’s head to the floor. ‘What’s so special about that clock?’

  Footsteps stopped outside the library door.

  Moments later, the door crashed open, and a dark shape stood framed in the opening.

  Chapter 7

  Jake held his breath. The figure stood motionless in the doorway for what seemed like minutes. Its body seemed to quiver and Jake could hear breathing – a heavy, guttural rasp. At the same time, the air was filled with a stench like rotting fish. It was all he could do not to gag.

  He could imagine the figure staring into the gloom, trying to make out the details of the room in the flickering uneven light of the oil lamp on the table. Jake and Sarah were crouched in a shadowy corner, close to the fireplace. With luck their shadows blended with the bookcases, the tables and chairs. Became part of the fabric and furniture of the room…

  After a few moments, the figure walked slowly to where Atherton’s lifeless body lay on the floor. It seemed to move with difficulty – clumsy and unwieldy. It lurched from side to side, its rolling gait taking it in and out of the flickering light. Sarah gripped Jake’s arm tight.

  Whatever the thing was, it wasn’t a man. It stood upright, had two arms and two legs and a head. But the body was covered with grey, glistening scales, and the face was a grotesque parody of humanity. Huge, pale eyes bulged out either side of a small bump of a nose and above a slit of a mouth. Cheeks swelled and opened in time to the rasping of the creature’s ragged breath.

  Jake and Sarah were absolutely still, absolutely silent as they watched the creature look down at the body. Then, abruptly, it turned and walked clumsily from the room and away down the corridor.

  ‘Come on,’ Sarah said quietly. ‘Let’s see where it goes.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t you want to know what it is? What it’s doing here?’

  ‘Not really,’ Jake muttered. But Sarah had already started across the room, and reluctantly he followed.

  The house was in almost total darkness now. Jake could hear the sound of breaking glass, of things being dropped or scattered coming from the display room further along the corridor.

  ‘Is this a good idea?’ he hissed.

  There was just enough light to make out Sarah’s answering glare.

  But even so, she pressed into a doorway, Jake close behind her, as they both heard the rapid splash of footsteps across the flooded room.

  ‘You want to follow it?’ Jake breathed.

  There was a loud splash from behind the door. Then silence. Sarah’s hand was on the door handle, but she hesitated. Then, suddenly, she threw open the door.

  The room seemed empty.

  ‘It’s gone,’ Sarah said. She turned to Jake. ‘We should be going too. Someone may have seen or heard something. You get the clock.’

  ‘The clock?’

  She sighed. ‘The Skeleton Clock. Atherton said to look after it. Keep it safe and hidden. You promised him.’

  ‘I’ll get the clock,’ Jake agreed. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Take a look round. See if I can tell what that thing was after.’

  ‘You think it took something?’

  ‘I don’t think it was here just to wander about,’ Sarah said. ‘Do you?’

  It only took Jake a minute. He carefully lifted off the glass dome, then picked up the clock. It was delicate, with all the workings exposed, and he hunted round for something to wrap it in. There were several small cushions on a small sofa in one corner of the library. He pulled the cover off one cushion, and used that as a bag.

  As he was on his way out, Jake paused to look at Atherton’s body. ‘Sorry,’ he murmured. Then he knelt down beside the dead
man, placing the clock in its makeshift bag beside him while he quickly searched the man’s pockets. He took out half the money from Atherton’s wallet, then stuffed it back in the jacket pocket.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  Jake gasped in surprise and fear. But it was only Sarah. ‘Money’s no good to him now,’ he said. ‘And we have to get home. Anyway, he asked us to do a job and I reckon it’s only fair we get paid for it.’

  ‘Expenses,’ Sarah said quietly.

  ‘Danger money,’ Jake told her. ‘You find anything.’

  ‘It’s what I didn’t find that’s interesting.’ She led the way back to the front door and they let themselves out into the empty street.

  ‘So, what didn’t you find?’

  ‘The display case we were looking in, the tall one, is over on its side, smashed open and everything’s fallen out. But it’s all still there.’

  ‘That creature, whatever it is, didn’t take anything?’ Jake could see the moorings ahead of them. There was a gas lamp on the quay, giving out a smoky diffuse light.

  ‘Everything was still there,’ Sarah said, ‘except the toy soldiers.’ The pale light made her blond hair shine like gold. ‘It took the figures. That’s all it was after.’

  *

  The Head was in a plain, stone-walled room on the ground floor of the White Tower. Miss Patterson had been told Revelle was on his way, and she was already there, waiting for him. She was as still as a statue, standing in front of the Head, staring at it so hard he wondered if she could see inside, beyond the golden façade.

  ‘I had a thought,’ Revelle said.

  ‘A Watch man who thinks?’ Her voice was quiet, with an edge of humour. ‘Whatever next?’

  ‘A statue that talks perhaps?’

  She turned slowly to face him. Any trace of a smile gone. ‘An insolent Watch man who thinks.’

  Revelle didn’t reply. But he met her cold gaze and held it. If she wanted to know, she could ask.

  ‘And what is this thought? Nothing too insolent, I hope.’

  ‘I thought,’ Revelle said slowly, ‘that if you want to know how the Head works, what it is and what mechanism drives it…’

  ‘Yes?’ She hid it well, but there was an eagerness now behind her cold eyes.

  ‘I think I know someone who could tell you.’

  The cold eyes narrowed. ‘Because they know something about it?’

  Revelle smiled. ‘Because they could work it out. Perhaps.’ He shrugged to show it didn’t matter much to him anyway. ‘If you’re interested. I could ask. When I next see him.’

  Marianna Patterson turned back to the Head.

  ‘Te ne ce gu…’ the Head said quietly.

  ‘Tomorrow morning,’ she replied. But she was talking to Revelle. ‘First thing. Bring him here.’

  *

  In the room behind the Toyshop, Sarah’s father listened attentively as she and Jake recounted their story.

  ‘Will you go to the Watch?’ Sarah asked when they had finished.

  The Toymaker shook his head. ‘Not yet. Not until we know more.’

  ‘Surely we should tell someone,’ Jake said.

  ‘But who?’ Sarah’s father said. He was examining the clock. ‘You know, this is more valuable than you can possibly imagine.’

  ‘Father – it’s a clock.’

  ‘But if it really is a clock that never stops…’ He put it down carefully on the table, continuing to stare at it, transfixed. ‘Perpetual motion is a dream that has eluded inventors since the world began. Can you imagine the wealth and power that goes with such a discovery?’

  ‘You’re saying we should find out how it works and tell everyone?’ Jake said.

  The Toymaker laughed. But there was a sadness mingled in with the humour. ‘I’m saying we should tell no one. We should put this clock away somewhere safe where nobody can find it. And we should sleep with the doors locked and bolted and look behind us when we step outside.’

  ‘I’ve got some money,’ Jake confessed. ‘From Atherton. We needed it to get a ferry back,’ he added quickly, glancing at Sarah. ‘But there’s enough for a good meal. We could maybe go down to one of the floating restaurants…’ He shrugged. ‘Just a thought.’

  ‘A good thought,’ the Toymaker said. ‘Though I think we’d do better to keep a low profile for a few days. If people see us suddenly spending money we should not have… Well.’

  Sarah was nodding. ‘And we can’t go without Geoff,’ she said. ‘If he had money, if he had food, he’d share it with us.’

  Jake nodded, feeling uncomfortable. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered.

  Sarah’s father put his hand on Jake’s shoulder. ‘It’s a kind thought,’ he said. ‘But we’ll celebrate when we have something to celebrate. Yes?’

  On the table beside them, the skeleton clock patiently ticked off the seconds…

  *

  He wasn’t enjoying it as much as he’d expected. Geoff felt out of place and lonely. His excitement and anticipation had taken a knock as soon as he arrived, and the waiter had shown him silently to a table in the corner.

  ‘I can pay,’ Geoff assured him.

  Still the waiter said nothing, and Geoff checked again that he still had the bundle of notes in his pocket. The longer he sat there, the more uncomfortable Geoff felt. He and Jake had talked about how when they were rich they’d eat at one of the floating restaurants. Now, here he was. On his own. He should have waited and brought Jake, he thought. And Sarah. But he felt guilty about how he’d got the money, and how he’d refused to go with them this afternoon.

  The food was delicious. Geoff had a steak with lots of rich onion gravy. But he hardly tasted it. The only thing that seemed to have an effect was the beer, and that made him light-headed and even more depressed.

  ‘Would sir care for dessert?’ the waiter asked.

  ‘What’s that?’ Geoff hadn’t noticed the man’s approach.

  ‘Pudding, sir. Afters.’

  ‘No,’ he decided. ‘No, I have to go. How much do I owe?’

  A dark-haired woman in a long blue dress at a nearby table turned to look at Geoff. Her mouth twitched, and she looked away again. The man with her was immaculate in a dark suit. Geoff left the exact money on the table and walked quickly out.

  He’d come back, he decided. He stood on the quay, looking back at the restaurant. The whole boat was alive with lights. In the summer, there were tables out on the deck. It looked so fine and exciting. But inside had been dark and claustrophobic. He could see the candles on the tables through the little round windows in the side of the boat. Next time, he’d bring Jake and Sarah. Next time maybe they’d try the Antilla, a few boats down. That looked brighter and larger. And more expensive.

  Geoff was regaining some of his good humour as he walked past the larger boat. There was a menu on a board beside the entranceway, and he paused to look at it. But it was too dark to read, and he found himself imagining what they might serve. What Sarah might order.

  The quay became a wooden dryway floating on the water. Geoff had left his boat a few streets away. There was a mooring charge close to the restaurants. But he’d enjoyed the walk, the anticipation. Now he was glad of a few minutes fresh air before the hard row back to The Twisting. But he’d sleep well when he got there.

  There were half a dozen of the floating restaurants, side by side along the quay. Sometimes one of the council or a rich water baron would charter one of the boats and sail it out on the water. If they could afford the fuel. Geoff was lingering by the last of the boats, when he heard the screams.

  The sound was joined by the noise of breaking glass, the splintering of wood and the tortured tearing of metal. For a few seconds, Geoff stood absolutely still, not knowing whether he should run towards or away from the noise. But there were other people now, coming out of the restaurants to look.

  Geoff ran with them, back past the floating restaurants. Shouts as well as screams. Still the crash and noise of chaos. Now there wer
e people running back the other way.

  ‘What is it?’ someone shouted.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Where did it come from?’

  ‘Never seen anything like it.’

  ‘Get the Watch!’

  ‘The Watch? You’ll need the Defeaters from the White Tower to deal with that thing.’

  Geoff was pushing through the mass of people, heart thumping, breathing hard. Breaking through the crowd and out the other side, to stand staring at the wreckage of the restaurant. The restaurant where a few minutes earlier he had been sitting, eating and drinking beer.

  A man in a suit stumbled off the creaking deck. He was carrying a dark-haired woman in a long blue dress. The blue was stained purple down one side.

  But Geoff hardly noticed. He was staring at the devastation. The splintered roof of the dining cabin. Tables shattered to matchwood. Glasses and crockery strewn across.

  And in the middle of it, a writhing mass of tentacles. The enormous creature was dragging the broken remains of a table down off the side of the ship. A single tentacle slammed down across the quay close to where Geoff was standing. So close he could see the suckers pulsing and quivering.

  The table caught on the edge of the broken deck, then toppled over. The tentacles slowly withdrew.

  The sense of relief among the people was obvious as the creature disappeared back into the water. But then they hadn’t seen it before. They hadn’t been sitting at that table just minutes ago – the very table the monstrous beast had dragged into the water.

  Geoff turned and ran. His feet thumped on the wooden decking. With every step he thought he heard the wet slithering of the creature closing in.

  Hunting.

  Hunting for him.

  Chapter 8

  She recognised his voice at once.

  ‘I’ll go,’ Sarah’s father said quietly.

  ‘He saw us at Atherton’s. If they know he’s dead…’

  Sarah followed, standing just inside the door and listening. Had he come for her? Had he recognised her at Atherton’s or seen her at Whispers or down at the docks? Were she and Jake going to be arrested and taken to the Watch Tower? Did he know about the clock?