Goodly and Grave in a Deadly Case of Murder

CHAPTER FOUR

THE NOT SO PITILESS PREDATOR

Bathsheba roared ferociously at the angel and leaped at it, her fangs and claws bared, but even these powerful weapons couldn’t damage stone. The angel shook the panther off like an irritating fly before grabbing Lucy by the collar and hauling her up until the two of them were face to face. Those awful empty eyes stared into Lucy’s and the stone lips curled into a snarl. Lucy wriggled and squirmed. The angel’s grip was slowly choking her.

The angel began clomping heavily through the grass towards the grave that had been disturbed. The robber had returned and was bending down to pick up the book he had dropped.

“Bathsheba,” Lucy managed to choke out, “attack that man – please attack!”

The panther seemed to understand Lucy’s command. She hunkered down into a crouch before launching herself at the graverobber, knocking him over. The book he’d retrieved moments before left his grasp again. This time, it flew from his hand and landed in the tangle of a nearby overgrown grave. The man had no chance to run after it: Bathsheba had pinned him to the ground in an instant.

With the man safely pinioned and the precious clue secure for now, Lucy turned her attention to escaping her stony captor’s clutches. As a first stab at gaining her freedom, Lucy poked the angel in its empty eyehole, but this made no impact whatsoever. Panic swamped Lucy as she struggled and choked in the angel’s grasp. The angel twisted the collar of her jacket so that it dug painfully into her windpipe. If she didn’t escape soon she was going die of strangulation! Anger began to overtake Lucy’s panic and fear. She wasn’t going to let this happen to her.

“Why are you doing this?” Lucy spluttered out between choking coughs. “You’re supposed to be on … be on … the side of good. Which is my side! Put me down.”

The angel’s grip on Lucy’s collar loosened. Lucy took in great ragged gulps of air. Her captor stared at her. A dim light glimmered in its eyeholes as though Lucy’s admonishments had sparked life in there. But the light died after a few seconds and the angel’s grip tightened again. Lucy frantically tried to fathom what was happening. Was getting angry with the angel triggering some kind of magic? Although Lucy’s magical abilities were still very new to her and she didn’t understand much about how it all worked, she did know that imagining what you wanted to happen sometimes played a part. Lucy held on to her anger, refusing to let fear take over.

“You … should be … ashamed of yourself, helping a criminal!” she said between gasps for air.

Again the angel’s eyes glinted. Again it paused in its efforts to strangle Lucy. Convinced now that her anger was having an effect, Lucy continued to berate her attacker. At the same time, she visualised the angel releasing her and pursuing the graverobber instead. As deeply and vividly as she could, she imagined landing on the soft grass, the ground vibrating as the stone angel pounded towards the graverobber, and his cries as the angel imprisoned him in her stony arms. She held the images in her mind.

And held them there.

And held them there.

The grip on Lucy’s collar loosened, sending her tumbling to the grass. She rolled out of the way of the angel’s feet; it was clumping towards the graverobber now, just as she’d imagined it doing. With the angel suitably distracted, Lucy crawled swiftly over to Lord Grave, who was still lying flat out on the grass. She shook him.

“Sir, sir, please wake up!”

But Lord Grave lay frighteningly still. Lucy put her ear against his chest. She could just about make out the comforting whump whump of his heart. She sat back on her heels, shaky with relief that at least Lord Grave wasn’t dead. But now she needed to get help and fast! The best thing to do was to shortcut back to Grave Hall and fetch help. She briefly surveyed the situation. The angel was looming over the graverobber now, and Bathsheba still had him firmly under her paws, so hopefully there was no immediate danger.

Lucy hurriedly began the process of shortcutting back to Grave Hall, imagining herself in the meeting room where the rest of MAAM would be waiting. But before she’d got very far, a rough but friendly tongue licked the back of her neck.

“Bathsheba! You’re supposed to be guarding the …” She looked frantically around and saw that the graverobber was now free and on his feet, seeking the book he’d dropped. Even worse, the angel had turned away from and was heading for Lucy again, its face contorted with anger.

“Go back to him, girl. Get him!” Lucy cried to Bathsheba.

Bathsheba turned and bounded off towards the man again. But instead of attacking him, she flopped down at his feet and rolled over on her back. The man paused in his search and scratched Bathsheba’s belly as though she was a fluffy kitten and not a potentially lethal panther. He then continued his hunt, leaving Bathsheba sprawled contentedly on the grass.

Realising Bathsheba was a lost cause, Lucy turned her attention to the angel. It was almost upon her once more, looking as though it had some serious avenging in mind.

“I thought you’d changed sides!” Lucy yelled in frustration. She gathered all the mental energy she had left and pictured the angel turning round yet again and going after the graverobber. To her joy, after a few seconds, the angel did indeed change direction and began stomping back towards the graverobber, who cried out angrily when he realised what was happening. This time, Lucy didn’t let anything distract her thoughts. She was controlling the angel now and wouldn’t let this man get the better of her! Concentrating harder and harder, she pictured the angel attacking the graverobber. Sure enough, the angel made a swipe at the man, he ducked just in time to narrowly miss a skull-cracking blow from the stone fist. He then decided that discretion was the better part of valour and took off in the opposite direction.

As Lucy watched him vanish into the night, her concentration wavered. The angel clumped along for a few more steps before coming to a stop. Lucy sagged to the ground in relief. A few moments later, Bathsheba came trotting back over and licked her face.

“A lot of help you were. You’re supposed to be a pitiless predator not a lap cat!” Lucy said crossly. But she hugged the panther just the same. Then, to Lucy’s very great relief, Lord Grave began to stir. She helped him sit up.

“What’s that statue doing over there? Did it bash me over the head? I can’t quite remember.”

Lucy quickly explained what had happened and how she and the graverobber had battled for control of the angel.

“You animated it?”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It means that you made an inanimate object come to life. It’s a very rare skill.”

Lucy wanted to ask more about animation, but this wasn’t the time. Lord Grave had turned as grey as the stone angel. “We should get back to the Hall, sir. You look terrible.”

Lord Grave ignored her concern. “We need to retrieve that book. It’s an important clue,” he said, his voice beginning to sound worryingly slurred.

Lucy snatched up the lantern, which luckily hadn’t gone out. “You stay here. I’ll find it. I think I know roughly where it landed.” Lord Grave didn’t argue, much to Lucy’s surprise. That surprise became apprehension when she realised he had dozed off.

“Stay with him, Bathsheba, I’ll be as quick as I can.” She hurried off, scared that Lord Grave’s injuries were more serious than she’d first thought and that he might die before she found the book and got them all back to Grave Hall.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE SNAKE OUROBOROS

Lucy’s fears were unfounded, however, and a couple of hours later, she was safely back at Grave Hall and sitting with Lord Percy and Lady Sibyl at the table in the MAAM meeting room. She had managed to retrieve the graverobber’s book after a few minutes of searching and then opened a shortcut back to Grave Hall where Bertie, Lord Percy and Lady Sibyl had been anxiously waiting. They’d helped Lord Grave, who was semi-conscious again, through the shortcut. Mrs Crawley had then carried him up to bed.

Smell was on the table, padding around and sniffing at the book. Lucy had been surprised to find it was simply a blank notebook. She had been expecting it to contain spells or something of the sort. However, the cover was intriguing. It had been damp and muddy when she found it, but Lady Sibyl had carefully cleaned and dried it and now the tiny jewels embedded in its green leather cover gleamed.

The meeting-room door crashed open, making everyone jump. For one wild moment, Lucy expected the murderous angel to burst inside. But instead, the Beguildy twins rushed in.

“Where have you two been?” Lord Percy snapped. “We’ve had a real emergency here.”

“We decided to have dinner with friends. Lady Sibyl’s coachman flew us back as soon as we heard. Is Lord Grave all right? Where is he?” Prudence said breathlessly. The small ship she wore in her piled-up silvery hair had tilted sideways and her cloak was hanging half off one shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Prue,” Lady Sibyl said, patting Prudence’s arm. “He’s safe in bed at the moment, with a rather large bandage round his head. Young Bertie’s with him; the boy won’t let him out of his sight.”

“What happened exactly? Did you make a hash of it, Lucy?” Beguildy asked.

“She couldn’t have made less of a hash of it. Lucy saved Lord Grave’s life and her own,” Lord Percy said sternly. “I’ll explain later. Come and look at this.”

Beguildy looked decidedly pouty as he and Prudence joined everyone else at the table, where Smell was still meandering around the notebook, stopping every now and then to gingerly sniff at it.

“If only my detector hadn’t been broken.” Lord Percy sighed regretfully. The silver pencil-like detector had been smashed to pieces when the angel attacked Lord Grave.

“I don’t need no detector, not with my nose,” Smell replied. “This thing reeks of magic. But not a type of magic I’ve smelled before.”

“What does this mean? Does anyone know?” Prudence asked, pointing to the symbol that decorated the edges of the notebook’s pages in a repeating pattern. It was a snake holding its tail in its mouth.

“The snake ouroboros,” Lord Percy said thoughtfully. “An ancient symbol in alchemy. It can mean a number of things: infinity, creation, destruction.”

Before anyone could ask any questions about the snake ouroboros, the door opened once again. This time, Lord Grave wobbled into the room. He was dressed in his nightshirt, dressing gown and slippers and had a large bandage wrapped round his head. Bertie was hovering anxiously behind him.

Prudence rushed forward to help Lord Grave. He resisted at first, but then leaned on her arm and tottered over to the table where the notebook lay open.

“You should be in bed, Lord Grave!” Prudence said.

“That’s what I told him!” Bertie agreed.

“Too much to do,” Lord Grave said, half falling into the chair that Lord Percy had hastily pulled out for him. “Lucy. Are you all right? You look exhausted.”

“I’m fine,” Lucy said, although in truth she was feeling horribly tired now and was finding it hard to concentrate.

“Now, has anyone any ideas about this notebook?”

Prudence began fussing around Lord Grave. “Your bandage is coming loose, let me just—”

“Prudence!” Lord Grave said a little snappily. Then more gently, he added, “I appreciate the concern, Prue, my dear. But there’s no need for it. I’m perfectly well.”

Prudence looked rather upset. As she dejectedly sat down next to her brother, her gaze met Lucy’s and they exchanged sympathetic smiles, although Prudence’s was slightly tremulous round the edges.

“Smell is certain that the notebook has magical properties,” Lord Percy said. “But we haven’t progressed any further than that.”

Lord Grave rubbed his forehead wearily, as though his head ached. Which was quite possible given he had recently been clonked over the head by a stone fist. “I think we should call in Angus Reedy.”

“Good idea,” Lord Percy said. “An experienced bookbinder like him should be able to give us some insight. I could send him one of my chits?”

“Yes, thank you. I believe he’s on his way back from France, but the chit should still find him.”

Lucy was very curious to find out what a chit was, so she watched carefully as Lord Percy went over to a writing bureau that stood against the wall next to the window. He opened it, took out a sheet of paper from one of the numerous drawers inside, and wrote a message on it, before rolling it up. He then carried it over to the window, which he unfastened. He placed the tube of paper in the palm of his hand and spoke to it. “Angus Reedy. Believed to be travelling back to England from France.”

There was a buzzing noise. The paper trembled and sprouted two tiny wings. It flew out of Lord Percy’s hand and buzzed off out of the window.

“That’s amazing!” Lucy said. Although she was becoming more and more used to seeing magic now, much of it still surprised and delighted her.

“Another of Lord Percy’s clever contraptions,” Lady Sibyl said, looking fondly at him.

“It really is excellent,” Lucy said to Lord Percy, whose face creased into a rare smile.

“I suppose there’s not much more to be done tonight,” Lord Grave said, bracing his hands against the arms of his chair and easing himself upright. “I suggest we all get some sleep.”

Lucy made her way to bed, feeling more exhausted than ever. Her bedroom, which she shared with Becky Bone, was high under the eaves at the front of Grave Hall. Lucy didn’t like sharing a room with Becky, who could be grumpy and unpleasant, but she loved the view her from bedroom window as she could see out over to Grave Hall’s wildlife park. She could have happily spent hours watching the animals. There were so many fascinating creatures roaming around. Elephants (Lucy once had an unfortunate run-in with one of them), giraffes (ditto), lions, zebras and numerous other animals, as well as an abundance of birds. And Bathsheba was there too at times, of course. Although the panther spent her days padding around after Lord Grave, at night she slept in her hut in the wildlife park, because she had a regrettable habit of raiding the kitchen when everyone was asleep.

Lucy always liked to have a last look out of the window each evening before going to bed. Treading carefully so as not to wake Becky, who would give Lucy a bad-tempered earful if woken, she went to the window and opened the curtains a little. Under the bright stars, the wildlife park was calm and still apart from the shadowy outline of one of the giraffes strolling along. Bertie had informed her that giraffes only slept in short bursts because they had to get up frequently to keep their circulation moving.

Eventually Lucy yawned and closed the curtains. She changed into her nightgown and slipped into bed. Narrowly escaping death at the hands of a stone angel really was a tiring business and she was looking forward to having a good rest.

It seemed as though she’d only been sleeping for a few minutes when the screaming woke her.

CHAPTER SIX

THE BREAK-IN

Lucy leaped out of bed and stood shivering in the dark. Something banged in the house below.

“Did you hear that, Goodly?” Becky asked, sounding frightened. Lucy could see the housemaid’s shadowy form sitting up in bed.

“Y-yes.”

Usually Becky would have made a nasty comment about Lucy’s shaky reply as she never missed a chance to be horrid. But fear seemed to be bringing out her best side as she simply said, “We need some light.”

There was the scrape of a match and welcome candlelight began to flicker and glow. United for once, Lucy and Becky hurried out into the hallway. Mrs Crawley was already there, carrying a candle. She was wearing a pair of unlaced boots and had flung a coat over her beribboned nightdress, but her beard was still in the three plaits she always wore it in for bed. She looked unusually stern.

“You girls stay here,” she said as she headed towards the stairs. “I mean it, Lucy!”

Mrs Crawley clattered off, almost tripping over her bootlaces in her haste. Lucy waited for around a minute before setting off after her with Becky in tow. They followed the sound of voices and commotion, which led them to the bottom of the house and the entrance hall.

The whole household had gathered there. The enormous front door stood open. A huge hole had been gouged out where the lock had once been and the lion’s-head knocker had a dent in it. Vonk, the butler, was sitting on the tiled floor, a blood-soaked handkerchief held to his head.

“Oh,” Becky whispered. “Look at Vonk. All that … all that … I think I’m going to …” She slumped to the floor. Nobody noticed apart from Lucy, who quickly bent over Becky to make sure the housemaid had simply fainted. Lucy knew she should really attract the attention of one of the grown-ups, but she wanted to take the chance to have a closer look at what was going on. Becky would come round on her own soon enough with no harm done.

She moved closer to the knot of Grave Hall residents and guests. Mrs Crawley was helping Vonk to his feet.

Lord Grave was there too. He was very shaky still from his own injuries and was having to be steadied by Bertie. Lady Sibyl and Lord Percy were carefully inspecting the damage to the front door. Lucy spotted Smell, nipping between people’s legs and sniffing around. He trotted over to her, casting a cautious look at Becky.