Matthew Skelton - Endymion Spring

"So you were the person behind me?" gasped Blake as the book continued to stir with jubilant, ecstatic, powerful life. He could see the ink beginning to grow darker, taking on a more permanent form, as the words were released from their hibernation. "You followed me to the library that night?"

"Oh, I've had my eye on you — and the library — for a long time," said Diana boastfully. "I always suspected that Psalmanazar returned Endymion Spring to St. Jerome's for safekeeping, but I was never entirely certain where. You, however, led me right to it. Except, of course, the book had already disappeared by then."

"And is Sir Giles after the Last Book too?" asked Blake stupidly, trying to catch up.

"Of course he is," snapped Diana. "Giles collects books on forbidden knowledge. What could be more spectacular than the most tempting book of all?"

Her expression hardened. "Mind you, he almost ruined everything by mentioning that elusive copy of Goblin Market — a book he couldn't have known about without a prior knowledge of the library's collections. But I don't think your brave little librarian had any idea what we'd really been looking for all this time."

"And you?" asked Blake. "What do you want the Last Book for?"

She smiled at him icily and then whispered in his ear, "I'm after the power it possesses: the ability to foresee the future, to know the past. The opportunity to make children's nightmares real. What is the power of withchcraft or wizardry compared to that?"

Blake shivered.

"And now," she said triumphantly, holding the book aloft, "to read the Last Book ."

Just at that moment, there was a loud, ferocious baying from the street outside, as if a pack of hounds had descended on the library all at once. Blake ran to the window to see what was happening.

There was just one dog: a scruffy mongrel leaping against the gates in an attempt to get in. Alice! Psalmanazar was barely able to restrain her. He tugged on her bright red bandanna, but Alice pulled free and charged against the library. The noise of her barking reverberated against the sides of the building with a harsh, percussive echo that caused a crowd of spectators to stop and stare.

"Get away from there!" screamed Diana, dropping the book and racing towards him. She slashed a long, black fingernail across his neck and he winced as the sharp edge seared his skin. In an instant, he doubled back to the desk and seized the book and the butterfly clasp — anything to defend himself — from the tabletop.

The dog's howl grew more insistent. New voices joined the din. Duck pounded on the door below.

"Give that back!" said Diana fiercely.

Blake was surprised to feel the clip in his fingers curling towards the palm of his hand like a claw, as if to prick him. It was just like the clasp on Endymion Spring 's notebook — the one that had scratched his knuckle once before.

And then, with sudden clarity, he knew what he had to do.

In one quick motion, he stabbed the point of the clasp deep into his finger and extended the injured digit over the edge of the Last Book. It was what the volume had first tried to accomplish in the college library; it was what the riddle had been telling him all along. Until, with Child's blood, the Whole is sealed…

He watched as blood welled in the wound and spilled on to the exposed pages.

"You beast!" screamed Diana. "What are you doing? Get away from that book!"

She rushed headlong towards the table; then froze, horrified. The blood from Blake's finger had formed an immediate seal, a rusty red clot, on the side of the Last Book . The pages were sealed. Blake's heart burst with relief and he sank to the floor.

Diana grabbed the book from his weak fingers and clawed at the covers like a wild animal, yet the Last Book — no more than a battered brown volume — remained closed. She could not dislodge the crusty seal of blood. The bond held fast.

"What have you done?" she roared. "Why won't it open?"

She glared at him furiously, but there was no answer.

Blake had already scooped up Duck's yellow raincoat from the floor and bolted towards the door. He opened it and scrambled up the uneven spiral staircase before she could react.

There was no time to rescue Duck. His best chance was to summon help from the roof. He sprinted up the remaining stairs, stumbling on the old stone steps, scraping at the walls with his sore fingers, and continued all the way up to the top of the tower.

Diana was close behind.

"Come back, you monster! Open the book!" her voice boomed in the narrow passageway.

Blake spotted an emergency exit just beneath the enormous turret and propelled himself towards it. Without thinking, he rammed his body against the door, grunting as the stiff metal bar punched into his stomach. Pain pummeled through his body. He tried again.

An alarm system trilled deafeningly in his ears.

For a moment, he rolled along the top of the square rooftop. Spires and gargoyles wheeled past his eyes. He landed on his back, groaning with pain, and stared up into blue space. Then, rising to his feet, he looked frantically for the fire escape.

A stone trellis surmounted by tall, knobbly turrets ran along the edges of the tower — far too high to clamber over. Through one of the carved quatrefoils, he could make out crowds of people in the street below.

"Hey! Up here!" he yelled out, waving his arms up and down to grab their attention; but his voice was smothered by the alarm bells and nobody noticed the terrified boy on the roof of the tower.

Sirens roared into life in the distance, responding to the emergency call, but they were still far away.

Hobbling, Blake tried to make his way down to the iron ladder on the opposite side of the rooftop, but Diana suddenly blocked his way. Her face was ruthless and cold. Losing all hope, he waved Duck's coat in the air and cried again for help.

Below him, people were struggling to restrain Alice, who was leaping crazily at the gates. Others were pointing at the library's many windows, trying to locate the source of the disruption. Finally, someone spotted a yellow shape flapping in the wind and caught sight of Blake. A number of startled faces peered up.

There was an astonished silence — then shrieks filled the air. People yelled and jumped, pointing behind him.

Blake turned round…but he was too slow. A blinding blow — the Last Book — thwacked against the side of his face and he reeled backwards against the guard rail, hitting his head hard against the stone. He let go of Duck's jacket, which fluttered uselessly to the pavement far below.

He rubbed the side of his face and was sickened as his fingers came away wet with blood. Suddenly the world swam before his eyes. Everything slowed down. Helplessly, he appealed to Diana, who was clutching the Last Book to her chest — a look of murderous rage in her eyes.

"You will do as I say and open the book," she said. "Or I will kill you."

He shook his head, barely able to from the words to defy her.

"No," he muttered weakly.

She studied him with silent hatred and then said: "So be it."

With sudden vehemence, she locked one of her elbows round his neck and pulled him off his feet. His face felt as tight as a red balloon. "If I don't get the book," she snarled into his ear, "then neither do you."

Blake was powerless to resist. His arms fell to his sides, too heavy and too tired to fight back. He was exhausted. The shadow had won.

Diana's glove chafed against his skin, tightening its grip on his neck. He could barely breathe. He raked in dry, desperate gulps and his knees went weak.

Faintly, he could hear people yelling in the street. Hundreds of faces were looking up in horror, some taking pictures, but the sights and sounds reached him only dimly, drifting in on waves. He was drowning in mid-air. There was nothing anyone could do to help.