Rosie Frost, page 34
“I’m not stopping now! Let’s see if this thing has an edge to it.”
She drew in a deep breath, then pulled out her sword and sliced into the curling thorn branches. They fell away like butter under her shining blade, tumbling into the mouth of the volcano. Rosie pushed on, keeping her feet on the narrow path and hacking left and right as the dense thorns sliced at the skin on her hands and face.
Bina, I’m coming.
They broke through, poised on the lip of the volcano and looking down into a deep, hollow clearing dusted with powdery snow. There were strange-looking trees, with dark, triangular, rigid leaves spiraling round the branches.
“It’s the monkey puzzle trees!” said Jackson.
They grew hard against the rocks warmed by their mountain furnace, guarding the heart of the Volcan Crag.
“And there’s the snowflake obsidian!”
Some of the black stones were split, showing the gray snowflake markings.
She scrambled down the slope toward them, and Rosie saw it at once. A dark petal of fungi, like black velvet with little white specks, was pressed up close against one of the stones. There were more nestled among the gray rocks, like jewels scattered among the leaves and in the roots of the low trees. Rosie pulled a crumpled linen bag out of her pocket, and with grateful tears, she began to pick the fungi. She wiped her eyes, pushing down her mask. Jackson focused on the other side of the clearing, gathering handfuls, then adding them to her bag.
“There are so many of them! Do we have enough now?” Rosie said.
“This must be at least ten times what I got from the stand,” Jackson said. “We can save her!”
He hugged her hard, pressing her to him. The mountain trembled and another rock face cracked in the distance.
“Now let’s get them back to Bina.”
“Found them!” someone shouted.
Rosie and Jackson spun round. Up on the path at the edge of the volcano stood Harry Arundel. Thank God, Harry can help!
At his side, a tall, slim figure emerged through the steam. Rosie’s stomach sank. What was he doing here?
Chapter 54
J’accuse!/Murderer
Sunday, February 12th. 10:25 a.m. Volcan Crag.
“What are you doing here?” Rosie said as Hemlock walked behind Harry Arundel down into the dell toward them. A huge mutant dog with a squashed face and long bared teeth was lumbering beside Harry. It growled at Jackson and Rosie. “I thought you’d run off with Ludo.”
“I look out for my own.” Hemlock sneered, nodding at Jackson. “I heard my poor dear cousin’s child was being dragged up the mountain by a delinquent, so I came up with Harry to retrieve him.”
“My dad is your distant cousin! Twice removed and then some,” Jackson said, ripping down his face mask.
“You’re still a Cromwell, Jackson, and my godson,” Hemlock said sharply. “It’s time you accepted that.”
“We’re leaving now,” Rosie said. “Bina needs these fungi. She’s been poisoned. We need your help, Dr. Arundel.”
“Poisoned?” Hemlock tutted. “You stupid, delusional child. You’ve dragged Jackson up here in pursuit of one of your fairy tales?”
“It doesn’t matter what you think,” Rosie said. “Please, Dr. Arundel, just let us by.”
“Okay, Harry, you said we needed to find them; well, we’ve found them,” said Hemlock. “It’s time to get out of here.”
He glanced at his watch—a gold one with a cream face and spidery letters. Rosie stopped. I’ve seen that before. Her thoughts spun and twisted.
“No,” Arundel said flatly. Then he reached out and plucked the bag of fungi from Rosie’s hand.
“Give those back!” Rosie shouted.
What is he doing?
Grrrr.
The dog growled deep in its throat as it took a step in front of Arundel.
“Oh, let her have them, Harry,” Hemlock sighed, his voice dripping with contempt. “We really should leave. The pilot isn’t keen to hang around.” Hemlock walked back up the path, slipping as the mountain shuddered.
“No, she shan’t have them,” Arundel said. He marched past Hemlock toward the edge of the crater and, as if in slow motion, he tossed the bag of life-saving fungi toward the steaming mouth of the volcano.
No! Rosie sprinted after him, drawing her sword.
The little bag flew through the air, twisting and twirling in a high arc, then started to tumble down the slope, about to be swallowed into the abyss. Rosie skidded to a halt, pebbles skittering into the depths from under her feet as she teetered at the edge.
The bag bounced, then caught on a protruding rock just below the lip of the crater. Rosie, straining every muscle in her body, stretched down to reach it. The bag was just inches from the tip of her sword. Holding her breath, she caught it like a fish and poked the tip of her blade just through the top of the handle. It wobbled and slipped.
NO, YOU DON’T!
Rosie swiped the sword, flicking the bag’s handle farther up the blade, then flipped the bag up and out of the crater, flinging it toward Jackson. He jumped, snatching it out of the air, and then held it to his chest. She sighed with relief, then thrust her sword back in her belt and turned.
Arundel was charging toward her, his face crimson with rage. He seized her round the waist, pinning her arms to her sides.
“Fetch!” he shouted.
The squashed-face dog bounded after the bag and leaped at Jackson, pushing him backward onto the ground. Jackson landed hard on his back, with one arm guarding the bag and his other strained, holding back the slavering jaws of the dog.
“Jackson!” Rosie shouted. Jackson kneed the dog’s huge barrel chest, but the massive paws held him down, and it growled. “Let me go!” She kicked back at Harry.
“Arundel, let her go and call off your dog. This is going too far!” Hemlock shouted with his hands up, strutting over toward him.
“You have other cousins, Fenton.” Arundel laughed and stepped closer to the edge of the crater.
What is happening? What is Arundel doing?
Rosie gasped as the steam from the volcano hit her.
Jackson clenched his hand tightly closed, still gripping the bag, while the dog held him down and growled, baring its teeth and snapping at the bag.
Oarf oarf!
A barking erupted from the trees behind them, and something with floppy ears and metal legs plunged out of the undergrowth and planted itself on the grass.
“Oddjob!” Rosie called.
The dog on Jackson’s chest looked up, with ears pricked. Jackson heaved hard, shoving it off him, and scrambled to his feet, backing away. Arundel’s dog sniffed the air and then trotted straight over to Oddjob.
Oddjob scraped the ground with his titanium paw, twitched his metal ear, and barked again, his tail wagging.
“I said fetch!” Arundel shouted. The mutant dog glanced at him, then ambled closer to Oddjob, sniffed his bum, and wagged his tail too.
“Let me go!” Rosie shouted, pushing against Arundel and trying to free her arms. His “hair” slipped slightly to one side, but he squeezed her harder still, forcing the air out of her lungs.
“For God’s sake, let her go, Harry!” Hemlock snapped, following him down toward the edge. “And you look ridiculous—your wig is slipping. Pull yourself together.”
“I look ridiculous?” Arundel hissed, still holding Rosie. “Fenton, really? You’re the one wandering around a mountain in white loafers like a Ken doll. This girl is a menace. Your taste has always been questionable—a fondness for lost causes! I’m just keeping things under control,” he huffed. “Attack! Attack!” Arundel yelled at the dog.
The mutant dog just panted and touched noses with Oddjob. Rosie strained against his grip once more.
“Let her go, Arundel!” Jackson said, running back up the path, his fists clenched.
“Merci beacoup, bon chien, for guarding me,” a voice with a distinct French accent said. A slender figure emerged from the edge of the clearing, staggering and leaning on a stick.
“Mademoiselle!” Rosie cried out. “You’re alive!”
“Oui, c’est moi!” Mademoiselle Curie Labouisse said, panting, then stumbled. Jackson ran to her side, and she leaned against him.
“Mademoiselle, are you okay?”
“Thank you, Jackson. I am alive. And that is, what do you say, good going?”
She glared at Arundel and raised her chin. Her platinum blond hair was plastered against her head, her black skirt and white blouse streaked with dirt and crumpled. She had on heavy boots instead of her usual red heels.
“Yes, you failed, Harry Arundel, and I lived.” Her eyes flashed.
Arundel twisted round so violently his wig slipped off even farther, revealing a very pale bald head. As Rosie writhed, she glanced up at him. She blinked.
He looks exactly like the bald man in Ed’s vision of his sickbed.
“What on earth is going on?” Hemlock frowned, looking at Mademoiselle.
“Meurtrier!”
“I thought you were visiting the mainland,” Hemlock exclaimed.
“I would never leave during the Futurology Exhibition, Fenton. J’accuse!” she said, pointing at Harry Arundel. Her scarlet nail polish was cracked and chipped. “He poisoned me!”
“No!” Hemlock shook his head. “Harry? Why would he do that?”
“Because he is just like his ancestor: a duplicitous backstabber. Ludo’s nice little friend, Harry Fitzalan Arundel, is a murderer!” Mademoiselle exclaimed.
Fitzalan! That’s the name Ed told me!
“You’re descended from the king’s advisor? Fitzalan?” Rosie gasped.
“Of course. But now I am part of Gideon’s Army! Part of the future!” Arundel said, lifting his chin.
Mademoiselle leaned on Jackson’s shoulder. “He murdered Miss Churchill, and Colin Fletcher before that. I think it likely he murdered Rosie’s mother too, while he was in London preparing for his lectures about his stupid dodo. And he tried to murder me.”
Rosie’s stomach tightened, her head spinning. It was him all along! She looked down at Harry Arundel’s arms, wrapped round her middle. These hands killed my mum?
“My God!” Jackson exclaimed. “Let her go!”
Arundel stepped closer to the edge.
“What? That’s insane!” Hemlock protested. “And what on earth are you doing? What is going on?” He looked at Arundel, then Mademoiselle.
Mademoiselle, panting, leaned more heavily on Jackson. “Thank God, Ms. Parr told me of Bina’s research. When I felt the first symptoms of refined hemlock poisoning, I came here, to find the fungi I needed. I only just made it in time. Oddjob found me. He snuggled close to me at night, in the funicular hut so I would not freeze. I have hovered between life and death for three days, taking a little of the cure at a time, whenever I had the strength to find and gather it. It is working, thank God for Bina.”
Arundel groaned in frustration. “That damned child!”
Oddjob and the mutant dog were still busy sniffing each other’s bums.
Mademoiselle looked at Hemlock. “I told Harry I had the results from London, that Rosie’s mother had definitely been poisoned with refined hemlock. He offered me his help.” She looked to Harry again. “I accepted that glass of wine because I thought we were friends.”
“Why would I be friends with such an ordinary mind as yours, Marie?” Arundel said.
Hemlock frowned, looking at Mademoiselle, then Arundel, his mouth open.
“Harry! What is she talking about?”
Arundel’s face twisted in disgust. “Oh, Fenton, grow up! You’ve always been happy to smarm around after Ludo for scraps, but you’ve never had the guts to make the hard decisions. To do anything which really helped. Avaline always walked over you, and after she beat you in the games you were putty in her hands. Then you let Miss Churchill bully you like she was your governess. All you’re good for is shouting at children.”
“Did you kill my mum?” Rosie gasped. “Did you?”
Hemlock took another step toward Arundel and Rosie at the edge of the crater, his mouth a hard, straight line.
“Well?” Hemlock growled. “Answer the girl. Did you kill Avaline?”
“Come now. I was just helping. It’s for the greater good! We need the right person to control Bloodstone. Ludo is the best hope the human race has,” he spat angrily. “And I know what Ludo needs, and he needed Avaline out of the way!”
Harry had “helped” her mum, Colin, Miss Churchill, and now Bina. She said someone was “helping.” It was Harry Arundel?
Rosie felt her head spinning.
“I offered Avaline my protection in London,” Arundel said. “But she refused me. Again. She always had such poor taste in men. It was her own fault.”
“You murdered Avaline?” Hemlock said, his face white.
“Oh, I was just cleaning up your mess, as per usual. And it was a sweet farewell. Avaline smiled as we said goodbye.”
“No!!” Hemlock gasped, and he put his hands to his head.
Mademoiselle covered her mouth and leaned against the obsidian boulder.
“Let Rosie go, you murderer,” Jackson said, his face dark, striding up the path.
“Be quiet, boy. And don’t cry over your darling Avaline, Fenton. Though she wasn’t yours for long, was she?” Arundel sneered at him. “Just long enough for you to father this hooligan,” he said, still keeping his grip around Rosie.
What?!
“Yes, Rosie Frost,” Arundel said, smiling, then he chuckled. “Your mother had such poor taste, she even bothered with Fenton Hemlock-Cromwell once or twice. You bloody artsy types. Think you’re better than the rest of us.”
He suddenly kicked out hard at Hemlock, fast as a snake, catching the back of his knees. Hemlock stumbled and fell, his head smacking against a rock. Arundel kicked him hard in the ribs. Rosie yelled, straining against him, desperate to reach her sword, but his grip was like iron.
“You’re pathetic,” Hemlock groaned.
“You’re like Hitomi now, Rosie. A single daddy to raise you.”
“You’re lying!” Rosie gasped.
“Science doesn’t lie. So hungry for the truth, weren’t you, little girl?”
He smiled, looking down at Hemlock, then at Rosie.
“Well, here it is, Rosie Frost.” He chuckled. “Mr. Hemlock-Cromwell is your daddy.”
Chapter 55
Ice on Fire
Sunday, February 12th. 10:35 a.m. Volcan Crag.
NO WAY! Hemlock is my dad?! No, no, no! He is a monster! He is not my dad; this is NOT true!
I don’t believe it.
“What the…?” Jackson said.
Her body began to tremble with rage. No, no, this isn’t happening! She looked at the man she despised. How could he be…
“YOU’RE LYING! YOU’RE A LIAR!” She kicked back at Harry and spat down at Hemlock.
“Impossible,” Jackson said.
Every inch of her body sank, like she was falling down an empty well. She and Hemlock stared at each other, their faces white, in horror. Was this why her mum was always so secretive about who her dad was? No!
“Impossible,” groaned Hemlock, still on his knees. A trickle of blood ran down his forehead. “The timing is wrong. Miss Frost just had her birthday. Avaline and I…” he stuttered, shaking his head.
“Rosie Frost was almost two months premature, you moron,” Arundel said. “The DNA tests I ran on her dirty hairbrush confirm it. Rosie is your child. But you won’t have to worry about your parental duties for long.”
“I hate you! You’re not my dad. You’re disgusting. I’d rather die than be your child!” Rage coursed through her veins and she gritted her teeth. “You can rot in hell!”
She glared at Hemlock, pushing against Arundel’s viselike grip.
“It’s time this line was wiped out forever,” Arundel sneered. “These descendants of Queen Elizabeth’s bastard keep reappearing from time to time, like weeds.” He laughed, a horrible mad laugh. “Fenton, don’t be too hard on yourself. We all make mistakes and live in a world of unfortunate blunders.” He tilted his head, and his wig slipped down even farther; his now very obviously bald head gleamed. “The errors of our history.” He shrugged. “But it’s what we do next that matters.” A blue vein pulsed on his forehead. “So we can dream the world anew.” Rosie could hardly breathe under his grip. “We must burn away history’s mistakes, let the fire eradicate the frost, and luckily we have plenty at hand.”
“Stop this, Harry!” Hemlock pulled himself up on his knees, stumbling onto his elbows and crawling toward Harry, blood trickling down his temple. His breathing was heavy. “Put the girl down,” he gasped.
“Oh, I intend to!” Arundel laughed.
He lifted Rosie off the ground and hauled her toward the brim of the volcano. Mademoiselle screamed.
“Stop this!” said Jackson, stepping toward them with his hands up.
“Stay back, Jackson, or she goes in,” Arundel sneered.
Rosie gritted her teeth and pushed against Arundel’s grip, kicking hard at his shins. He held her above the fiery pit, and she looked down. Below her, the fires of hell crackled, molten rock boiling through plumes of steam. The smoke whispered like it was full of ghosts. Strange faces from Hades’s underworld, staring up, arms reaching toward her.
It was so hot she couldn’t breathe.
Was this the moment? Was she going to die?
Her mind began to drift.
Mum, Mum?
The scent of cloves and spices wafted over her; the image from the Tree of Life flashed in her mind.
“Child, I cannot mistake you,” said Elizabeth. “You will rise.”
I will rise…
And then she stopped, breathed out, and let go, as if she was water, slippery water, her blood boiling, yet cold as ice.
