The Shadow Thief Read online

  ‘Might Ernest and I take a walk before it gets too late?’ Milli asked, widening her eyes to look as guileless as possible. ‘We haven’t had much exercise today.’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ Ernest added. ‘My legs are awfully stiff from all this sitting down.’

  Mr Mayor frowned and nodded in approval. ‘We don’t want them catching Stiffleg, do we, Majorie?’ he said with genuine concern.

  ‘Certainly not!’ Mrs Mayor replied. ‘I think a walk is a splendid idea, although Gristle had better go with you.’

  To Milli’s surprise, Gristle emerged on cue from behind the hedgehog maze where he had been waiting.

  Milli was not pleased about Gristle accompanying them, but luckily he seemed to find their company as disagreeable as they found his and so kept his distance. Milli flopped onto a nearby bench as soon as they rounded a corner, but leapt straight up again upon discovering that it too was made up of a cluster of hedgehogs, this time on all fours. Apologising profusely, Milli opted to stand. She poured out everything that had happened in Mrs Mayor’s chambers. In turn, Ernest told her about the depressed flamingo and the files he had glimpsed on Emma Bottlebrush and her family. They both agreed that they were on to something, but would have to watch their step. Their sudden adoption, however, was trickier to make sense of.

  ‘What would a beastly pair like the Mayors want with children?’ Milli said.

  ‘They don’t really want children,’ Ernest clarified. ‘You don’t think they care a jot about us, do you?’

  ‘Why then?’

  ‘Because there’s nothing like a pair of adopted children to enhance your political profile.’

  Ernest’s theory was interrupted when a noise like a cork popping drew their attention. Looking up, they saw in the uppermost row of hedgehogs a gap like a missing tooth. In that gap there now appeared a chilling apparition. It was of a face so pallid and ravaged it might have belonged to a corpse. It lasted but a moment and then was gone.

  Startled by what they had seen, the children moved tentatively in the direction from which the sound had come and came upon a lifeless hedgehog on the path. The little creature lay paws up and from the charred smell lingering in the air appeared to have been incinerated. Wisps of smoke still trailed from its body. Never had they set eyes upon a sadder sight. Someone or something had callously disposed of the creature for the mere opportunity to spy on them more closely. Too overcome for words Milli slipped off her lacy cardigan (a gift from Mrs Mayor) and used it to cover the body of the little hedgehog.

  Back at the table, the children were greeted by two beaming faces.

  ‘We have a surprise for you,’ Mrs Mayor crooned. ‘Can you guess what it is?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Try!’

  Of course, the children couldn’t guess. Hog House was so unpredictable that nobody could speculate as to what was going to happen in the next few seconds!

  Mrs Mayor could hardly contain her excitement. ‘Your nursery is ready!’ Milli and Ernest did not know quite what to say in response to this announcement. Why were they being given a nursery?

  ‘Look,’ Mrs Mayor purred, ‘they’re too happy to speak!’

  ‘Your delectable mother decided the two of you would want your own quarters,’ Mr Mayor continued. ‘To romp, play games and do what children do.’

  Personally, Milli thought they were far too old for a nursery, but she gave a beatific smile all the same.

  ‘Thank you,’ she gushed. ‘We really don’t deserve such spoiling.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Mrs Mayor told her. ‘There’s just one other small thing. We have been thinking…’

  ‘…that your names…’ Mr Mayor added, pausing to wait for the sound of gunshots to subside.

  ‘…are just far too ordinary for our family,’ Mrs Mayor finished.

  ‘Therefore,’ Mr Mayor went on, ‘we have renamed you…’

  ‘…Buttercup Crumpet!’ Mrs Mayor squealed in delight as she gave Milli’s cheeks a vigorous pinch. Mr Mayor turned his attention to Ernest.

  ‘And Mozart Bluegumm!’ he announced, squashing the air from Ernest’s lungs in a big bear hug. ‘Now off you both go and play until dinnertime.’

  You may be wondering why the Mayors were so foolish as to leave the children alone to hatch plans and conspire their escape. But they believed Milli and Ernest to be quite happy living in their Poxxley Gardens manor in the lap of luxury and never once considered that they might want to leave. Mr and Mrs Mayor also happened to be quite mad. But do not make the mistake of thinking that this would make things easy for the children. Mad villains are often more terrifying than the evil ones, because you are never able to predict what they might do next. Traditional villains at least behave consistently, but the Mayors’ plans could change in the time it takes someone to sneeze.

  At this point in this narrative you may also be wondering why the children did not simply stroll leisurely out of Hog House and back to their families. But this would be what is known as a ‘quick fix’, commonly sought by those who only see things from their own perspective. From experience, I can assure you that quick fixes very seldom work. As astute thinkers, the children knew that should they make their way back to Drabville in secret, they would be located and re-captured within the hour. All they would succeed in doing is losing the privileges they had acquired. They would be thrown back into the dungeons where they would be of no use to anyone. Besides which, they had more to worry about now than saving their own skins. For the first time the prisoners had been offered a glimmer of hope and Milli and Ernest were far too responsible to snatch it away from them. Frustrated though they were, they must remain as Crumpet and Gumm for the time being at least, whiling away the hours until a more efficacious plan presented itself.

  The children had exactly one hour before dinner was served. Milli would have liked to go straight to the dungeons where she knew the prisoners would be resting after their day of planting dunyips (which are something of a cross between turnips and onions), but Mrs Mayor insisted they become acquainted with their new nursery.

  The nursery was unlike anything they had ever set eyes on before. Not even in story books had Milli encountered anything as magical as this. Try as she might, she was unable to hide her delight. The room itself was designed in the shape of an enormous carousel, complete with golden-maned horses with jewel-encrusted saddles and a candy-striped domed roof. Two of the carousel’s carved chariots had been set up as beds, one with a pink eiderdown and one with a blue. The names ‘Buttercup Crumpet’ and ‘Mozart Bluegumm’ hung in an arc above the beds and flashed with multicoloured lights at night. At the flick of a switch the carousel began to turn and a soft lullaby played from a hidden organ. Toys, games, books and musical instruments littered the carousel’s floor.

  Milli picked up a volume of traditional fairytales. Leafing through the pages, she got quite a shock to find that the faces of the stories’ heroes and heroines had been replaced with those of the Mayors. It was Mr Mayor’s pudding face she saw instead of Prince Charming’s, and Mrs Mayor’s ringleted head sat on the slender shoulders of every fairy princess. Not only that, but all the original names had been altered so they now read ‘Marjorie’ and ‘Morgan’.

  When Mr and Mrs Mayor finally retired, exhausted by the company of children, Ernest wanted to continue exploring the nursery. There were drawers built into the striped walls that he felt sure would contain gadgets that could keep one occupied for hours. But Milli was unrelenting. They had an appointment to keep with the prisoners whom they had already come to think of as their friends.

  Accessing the dungeons was relatively easy once the children had learned to dodge the Shadow Keepers. This they did by becoming adept at blending in with the walls and keeping to dark corners. Never having come across intruders, the Shadow Keepers themselves kept up a routine surveillance and were not especially on the alert.

  ‘What in the name of marshmallow pie has happened to you two?’ Rosie chuckled when she saw them. ‘From rags to riches in the space of a few hours.’

  ‘I seem to have been assigned the role of Mrs Mayor’s personal pet,’ Milli replied glumly.

  Rosie raised her eyebrows enquiringly at Ernest.

  ‘Office duties for me,’ he told her, ‘only I haven’t quite worked out what they are yet.’

  ‘You have access to Mr Mayor’s office?’ Leo asked. ‘Have you any idea what sort of information is hidden in there? All of Lord Aldor’s secret files are kept in that office. Files that can help us!’

  ‘I knew your arrival was more than mere coincidence,’ Rosie said, her whole face lighting up. ‘You might just be the best thing that’s happened here in a long time.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think so.’ Ernest laughed nervously, appalled at the suggestion of anyone’s fate resting in his hands. ‘I’m not really the heroic type. Milli and I just want to get home.’

  ‘What Ernest means, of course, is that we’ll do whatever we can to help,’ Milli cut in.

  ‘You said you want to get home?’ Leo replied.

  ‘Just tell us what we need to do.’

  ‘Look out for clues along the way,’ Rosie said. ‘Find out what you can, but make sure to stay out of Lord Aldor’s way. He is pitiless with anyone who crosses him.’

  ‘We still don’t know who he is,’ Milli said, the colourless face from the maze flashing through her mind.

  ‘No one really knows much about him, except that everything that’s gone wrong in Drabville has gone wrong because of him.’ Rosie looked around and lowered her voice to an undertone. ‘According to folklore, Lord Aldor the Illustrious bartered his own heart with Hecate, Goddess of the Underworld, in order to live a thousand years.’

  ‘Why would anyone want to live that long?’ Milli said, puzzled.

  ‘He must have figured a thousand years would be ample time to achieve world domination,’ Rosie said. ‘He’s already got Drabville under his control.’

  ‘Some say that being heartless means Lord Aldor is also bloodless,’ Leo added. ‘He has to feed entirely on Blood Pudding, prepared especially for him in the kitchens of Hog House.’

  The children involuntarily shivered and recoiled at this image. And I can hardly blame them. If any of you have ever heard of Blood Pudding then you will know that it must be the most monstrous preparation ever invented by humans. My own grandmother used to make it (along with chunky sausage and salt-cured ham) and secretly feed it to my mother in her early years without her knowledge of its ingredients. I can only be grateful that this tradition was not passed down. This barbaric foodstuff (originally known by the Italian name of Sanguinaccio) is made from pigs’ blood to avoid wastage of any part of the animal. Here is one of the many repellent recipes for Blood Pudding.

  Blood Pudding

  Drain the blood of a freshly slaughtered pig into a deep cooking pot.

  Stir continuously with a large stick to avoid coagulation (for then it will be lumpy and spoiled).

  Place pot over stove and add vast amounts of roughly chopped dark chocolate, raisins, roasted almonds, as well as a stick of cinnamon or coil of lemon rind if desired. Simmer and stir until a dense cheesecake consistency is achieved.

  Allow mixture to cool slightly before pouring into jars or pudding moulds.

  Feed anytime (either chilled or at room temperature) to unsuspecting children secure in the knowledge that its nutritional value remains unsurpassed.

  According to those unfortunate enough to have been duped into consuming the dish, it is delicious until you know what’s in it. (A word of advice: beware of any adults offering puddings containing excessive amounts of chocolate.) All Milli and Ernest could think was: what kind of man would choose such a meal of his own volition?

  ‘The Mayors are merely puppets in Lord Aldor’s game,’ Rosie continued. ‘Sooner or later you will meet him, and when you do, just remember—’

  At that moment the deafening gong of the dinner bell sounded and Milli and Ernest had to run so that Gristle would find them in the nursery when he came to fetch them down to dinner. The name Aldor the Illustrious rattled about in Milli’s head as she tore up the stairs. It hung there like an omen. She didn’t like the way it burrowed and wriggled in her mind like a fat grub that could not be dislodged.

  When Gristle came to collect them he made no comment about them being out of breath. They followed him silently through a series of hallways. Some of the doors they passed were open and they were able to steal quick glimpses of what lay inside. They travelled past a dusty cellar, a room splattered with all the colours of the rainbow, and several rooms with nothing in them at all but strange, lone items like a birdbath, a waterfall and a castle made entirely of children’s building blocks. They stopped at a pair of magnificent white doors, which opened slowly in response to a spray from the blue glass phial Gristle seemed always to carry with him. Two footmen in livery escorted Milli and Ernest to their places before retreating discreetly to their stations by the sideboard.

  The dining room was as lavish as they had come to expect of any room in Hog House. Glittering crystal and candelabra sat on the table and frescos of ancient banquet scenes adorned the walls. Pewter goblets stood beside each plate and Milli had already counted several decanters of wine. But the imposing blackwood table was the room’s centrepiece. It was so long that those seated at its opposite ends would have needed megaphones to hear each other. The carved Tudor chairs in which the children sat were so high-backed that Milli’s head only reached halfway. Her feet did not touch the ground and she felt very small ensconced in a chair large enough to seat four. Its curved arms ended in lion’s paws. For a moment Milli thought she saw them twitch, but knew from experience that if you stared at an object long enough, it seems to come to life before your eyes.

  A solemn silence hung over the grand dining room, broken only by the ticking of the clocks on the sideboard. Milli looked at the gleaming array of cutlery beside her silver plate. Never in her life had she seen so many knives, forks, spoons and tongs. Mrs Mayor was going to be very put out at her lack of table etiquette. She had only ever used a knife and fork and then only under duress.

  The children squirmed in their chairs and glanced miserably at one another, both noticing at the same time that the table had been set for six.

  Part II

  Puzzles and Possibilities

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Bon Affétit

  The first arrival to enter the dining room was a girl of about fifteen. At least they thought it was a girl, although her appearance caused some initial confusion. Her jet-black hair stood upright in spikes, defying the laws of gravity, and the kohl smudged around her eyes was so heavy she looked as if she might have been recently involved in a street brawl. The girl’s clothes were also black and weighed down with silver chains which rattled when she moved. She wore a studded collar around her throat, a large safety pin through one nostril and sturdy lace-up boots on her feet.

  ‘The new additions to the family,’ the girl said sarcastically as she slumped unceremoniously into a chair and began to clean her ragged fingernails with a knife. ‘Just what I’ve always dreamed of—a baby brother and sister.’

  She appeared conspicuously out of place in Hog House. Milli thought she looked more like the Bride of Frankenstein than the Mayors’ daughter.

  When Mr and Mrs Mayor entered and took their seats opposite the children, the girl sank even lower in her chair and scowled savagely.

  The only place now left was the head of the table and an air of expectation settled over the room. Milli and Ernest both felt it, even though they had no idea who the final guest was to be. The white doors flew open and they just had time to catch sight of the sour-faced girl rolling her eyes skywards and her parents leaping from their seats in welcome before a man floated into the room.

  You are probably imagining that when someone ‘floats’ into a room, it is saying something about their graceful walking style. But I do not mean this at all; I mean that he was literally walking on air and his feet did not touch the ground but rather hovered several inches above it. This added to his already great height and made him look more like a phantom than a man. The children knew he must be Aldor the Illustrious even before he was formally introduced.

  ‘Welcome, Your Lordship, we are terribly honoured that you could join us this evening,’ Mrs Mayor gushed effusively. Along with her husband, she proceeded to fawn and fuss over him as if her very life was dependent on his approval.

  Lord Aldor towered above them all. He wore fine crimson robes over his emaciated frame. These robes fell in gentle folds, the bell sleeves reaching almost to his knees. His skin had an unhealthy pallor and his cheeks were so sunken they clung to the bone. He had the far away look of one whose time was consumed by heinous plotting. As he glided to his seat, Milli noticed a thin spool of smoke that she would later learn always trailed after him.

  Whilst Mr and Mrs Mayor were clearly awestruck by Lord Aldor’s presence, he watched their antics much like an indulgent parent who has almost run out of patience.

  Lord Aldor stooped to kiss Mrs Mayor’s hand. ‘Dear lady,’ he said, ‘radiant as usual, I see.’ His voice sounded sonorous, like the notes of an oboe.

  On receiving the compliment, Mrs Mayor could hardly contain her excitement. She became flushed and flustered, and when she tried to speak only a girlish giggle came out.

  Lord Aldor moved to his chair as if in slow motion. Blue-white hair swam around his head. The wispy locks fell to his waist and his beard had been twisted into a plait. His hair was laced with strands of precious metals that glinted whenever they caught the light. As he looked around the table, something halfway between a smile and a smirk played about his lips. When his gaze met Milli’s, she found that his eyes chilled her to the bone. Their colour was impossible to determine; his pupils kept dissolving only to reappear in a different shade. One moment his eyes were a pair of bottomless black pools; the next they glowed like hot embers. Right now they were as amber as those of a cold-blooded snake.