Jenny Nimmo - Gabriel and the Phantom Sleepers

Gabriel felt he should give her a nudge, or pat her hand, anything to shake her out of her trance, or whatever it was, but he was afraid of spilling Albert’s tea. So he just stood beside the woman, who, after all, had saved him from something definitely nasty. ‘Er . . . are you?’ he said hesitantly. ‘No, that’s silly, you’re definitely not all right, are you?’

‘Oh!’ The woman gave a long sigh and turned to Gabriel. ‘Whatever happened?’

‘There was a horrible-looking thing here,’ said Gabriel. ‘It waved its hand and then it kind of vanished.’

‘Of course. How could I forget? You go back to your seat, Gabriel. I’m quite all right now.’

‘Are you sure?’ Gabriel wondered how she knew his name.

‘Yes, yes. But I’m new to the job, and I’d rather you didn’t mention my little – er – moment of weakness.’ The woman had a warm, friendly smile.

‘Who would I mention it to?’ asked Gabriel.

‘Oh, never mind.’ She was quite young, Gabriel reckoned. He thought he’d seen her before somewhere.

‘Better get back to your seat,’ she said firmly.

Albert appeared to be asleep when Gabriel reached him. Gabriel set the tray in front of the big man, muttering that he was sorry he had taken so long.

Albert opened one eye. ‘Muffins,’ he said. ‘Good choice.’

Gabriel handed over the change and slid into his seat. He thought he should probably mention the hooded stranger, but he waited until Albert had munched his way through his muffin before describing the man who had accosted him.

Albert frowned and placed his cup on the table. ‘You should have alerted me before,’ he said.

‘Sorry. I thought you’d like to finish your tea first,’ said Gabriel. ‘I hope it’s not a bad sign.’

‘Who knows?’ Albert looked at his watch. ‘Ah. Time for my medication,’ he said, and he pulled a small travelling bag from under his seat. ‘I’ll just pop to the toilet, Gabriel. Won’t be a tic.’

Gabriel wondered why Albert had to take his bag to the toilet. Perhaps he needed his towel and toothbrush.

Albert was in the toilet for a long time. The train stopped briefly at a station, then rolled on again. Albert still hadn’t returned.

Gabriel leaned back in his seat and the train continued into the night. It was now quite dark outside. Gabriel yawned and closed his eyes. Perhaps he fell asleep, he couldn’t be sure, but all at once he was aware of the nauseous smell of decay drifting under his nose; the air was thick with it. Gabriel sat up and coughed violently.

There was a faint hoot from the engine and the train began to slow down. Slower and slower. Seconds later it stopped altogether. It was very quiet in the carriage. Gabriel peered through the window. Flurries of snow came floating out of the darkness.

‘Snow,’ he murmured.

‘Fool,’ croaked a voice behind him. ‘Now it begins.’

CHAPTER TWO

The Sorceress

Earlier that same day, when the sky was still the deep grey of a winter dawn, someone rang Jack Silk’s doorbell. Sadie, suddenly wide awake, threw on her dressing gown and ran downstairs, her long pigtail swinging behind her. Gabriel was not expected until the evening, and trains didn’t usually arrive this early.

When Sadie opened the front door and found Cecily Fork on the step, she was too stunned to speak. Cecily’s son, Septimus, glowered beside her, and the dog, Carver, sat mute on the path. A large shiny car was parked in the road behind them.

Sadie clung to the door to steady herself. The shock took her breath away. ‘Oh no,’ she mumbled.

‘Not very welcoming.’ Sadie’s ex-stepmother had a voice like a rusty nail scraping the bottom of a saucepan. ‘I thought I’d beaten the rudeness out of you.’

‘It came back when you left,’ said Sadie, feeling more courageous.

Cecily’s pale eyes narrowed, Carver snarled and Septimus squawked, ‘Stupid girl.’

‘What d’you want,’ demanded Sadie, still clinging to the door.

The sorceress thrust her aside and strode into the house.

‘Dad!’ called Sadie.

But he was already standing in the passage, in his dressing gown, his face white with horror.

A breeze smelling of burnt metal followed Cecily into the house. Sadie could feel it pressing about her, numbing her thoughts, muffling sounds. The sorceress, her son and the dog pushed their way into the kitchen, while Sadie and her father followed, helplessly.

Cecily wore a leopard-skin coat, its wide collar cradling her steel grey hair like a bag of knives. ‘You don’t look pleased to see me,’ she grated, staring at Jack.

He didn’t reply.

Sadie could see the pain in her father’s eyes. It made her want to shout at the sorceress.

Cecily shrugged her shoulders and sat down. ‘Do we care if you’re pleased?’

‘No, we do not,’ said Septimus. In his close-fitting grey suit, white shirt and blue tie, he hardly looked like a boy on holiday. He had a round, pink face, and his shiny black hair clung to his head like a skullcap.

Jack sank on to a chair and murmured, ‘Why have you come back?’

‘Oh, I haven’t come back,’ said Cecily, drawing off a tight leather glove. You could see the sparkle even before she thrust out her hand. A large emerald glinted on her ring finger. ‘I was just passing; had to bring a few Christmas gifts to some friends.’

‘Spies, I suppose,’ Sadie muttered. ‘Some of your relatives keeping an eye on us.’

Cecily ignored her. ‘I’m getting married,’ she announced, with an unpleasant smile.

‘Again?’ said Jack.

‘Congratulations, you mean,’ said Septimus, as he wandered around the kitchen.

Sadie hated the way her ex-stepbrother poked about on counters and shelves. Carver growled and snapped at the boy’s ankles and, occasionally, Septimus kicked at the dog, sending him whining under the table. Poor Carver was the result of a spell. He had once been Septimus’s older brother, but Cecily had turned him into a dog: a punishment for bullying his little brother. The spell was supposed to last for a day, but it still hadn’t worn off.

‘Aren’t you interested in my future husband?’ Cecily asked her third husband.

‘Should I be?’ asked Jack, with a wobble in his voice.

Septimus leaned over Jack’s shoulder and crowed, ‘Dr Ichabod Loth of Ludgarth Hall School. He’s famous.’

‘Indeed.’ Jack took a breath. ‘Perhaps now is the time for you to set me free, Cecily? I don’t know what I did to offend you, but surely my punishment has lasted long enough.’

Cecily raised her eyes to the ceiling, ‘Perhaps not,’ she said.

Jack folded his arms and stared grimly at the table.

‘Dr Ichabod Loth is one of the Hundred Heads,’ boasted Septimus. ‘They’re headmasters of great schools all over the world.’

‘We know that,’ Sadie muttered. ‘We’ve got friends at Bloor’s Academy.’

‘They’re for gifted children like me,’ Septimus went on. ‘Weather-mongers, shape-shifters, animal-speakers and stuff. My gift hasn’t developed yet, but I’ve got a lovely voice.’

Cecily smiled fondly at her youngest, and from under the table, Carver gave a forlorn growl.

‘Of course, your nephew attends Bloor’s Academy,’ said Cecily. ‘Though I wouldn’t call him gifted, poor boy. He has that awful affliction.’

‘It’s not an affliction,’ Sadie burst out. ‘It’s the seventh sense. And it’s wonderful, because he can feel all sorts of emotions belonging to other people, and he can see what happened to them through their clothes.’

‘Huh! Coming to see you, is he?’ said Cecily.