The Giant Key, page 2
‘We’d best be getting on,’ said the Professor. ‘We can’t keep this poor librarian outside all night.’ He picked up a suitcase. ‘Just grab your backpacks for now, and we’ll come back for the rest later. Off we go!’
Although Max resisted as best he could, it was the threat of being left alone in the car that finally convinced him to shoulder his backpack and step outside. The family pulled out their raincoats and torches, climbing over the cemetery fence and squelching between the tombstones. The air stank of mud.
Mrs Stone led the way through the cemetery, her grey coat blending easily with the graves. She looked back often, guiding the family past markers made of stone and wood, never saying a word. Anna wondered if the woman’s voice box was broken.
‘This is a bad idea,’ said Max. He flashed his torch at an angel, illuminating its wings. ‘I’ve read stories like this before. Going anywhere near an American burial ground is a mistake.’
Anna stepped past a crumbling tomb, pulling her own scarf tighter around her neck. She was trying to be brave – trying to remember all the things she had done that had been scarier than this – but it was hard to feel courageous in a graveyard at night. She gave her gold ring a nervous rub, wishing it wasn’t so thin. If the ring had been heavy, at least it might have made her better at punching ghosts.
‘The oldest markers date back to sixteen ninety-three,’ said a sudden voice. Mrs Stone had turned to face them, pointing at a tumbledown grave. Her scar shone in the starlight. ‘History has taken root here, although the township could not. The library is all that remains.’ Her face twitched. ‘Do not worry. There is not far to go.’
She started walking again before anyone could answer. The Professor nodded appreciatively, hurrying to catch up. Max, however, looked ready to burst.
‘This is ridiculous,’ he said. ‘We don’t know this woman. We don’t know where she’s taking us.’ He stamped his foot in a puddle. ‘Where have we come to? What is this place?’
As if in reply, a bolt of lightning flashed across the heavens. Anna and Max jumped, shielding their eyes – and, just for a moment, they could see the building looming before them.
‘Oh, perfect,’ said Max bitterly.
At the edge of the graveyard stood an old, decaying mansion. It was two storeys tall, with three pointed rooftops; rows of windows glinted out from black wooden walls, their panes dirty and cracked. Snakes of ivy slithered across the windowsills, their leaves trembling in the rain, the vines hugging the walls so tightly they might have been holding the house together. None of the windows were lit. Two pillars stood either side of the red front door, the paintwork chipped and peeling. In the centre of the door was a brass knocker, shaped like a toad.
Above the door, five words had been carved into a thick stone panel.
THE WITCH-HOBBLE LENDING LIBRARY
‘No way,’ said Max. ‘That’s the last straw.’
‘Oh, it’s nothing to do with witches,’ said the Professor. ‘Witch-hobbles are lovely flowers. I’m sure you’d like them.’
He climbed eagerly up the steps. Mrs Stone paused beside the doorknocker, the porch creaking under her weight.
‘Hurry along,’ she said. ‘Algernon is waiting.’
Whoever Algernon was, he must have been waiting in the dark. Anna blinked at the stone sign as the lightning disappeared, her nerves slightly soothed. She had always liked libraries – could always find a good book to read, even in the prehistoric collections the Professor usually dragged them to. On a stormy night like this, there was nothing better than curling up with a fairy tale, or a mystery, or even a horror story. Scaring herself silly wasn’t always the smartest idea, but sometimes Anna couldn’t resist.
Mrs Stone turned the handle. Max stood sullenly behind Anna as the front door creaked open.
‘Algernon,’ called Mrs Stone, flicking a switch. ‘Algernon!’
Anna blinked as she stepped inside, dazzled by the sudden light. She was standing in a wide, circular parlour, ringed with open doors and overstuffed bookcases. Ragged red carpet extended under her feet, spilling like a bloodstain towards a grand central staircase; doorknobs glinted from a passage on the second storey, the upper hallway unlit. Between the bookshelves, a row of severed animal heads leered from the shadows: hunting trophies mounted in place. Anna shivered as a moth-eaten moose stared down at her with glassy eyes, its antlers heavy with dust.
The Professor had already stumbled towards the nearest bookcase, his coat abandoned on the carpet behind him. His mouth dropped wide open as he inspected the shelf.
‘But – that’s a first edition!’ he said, running his finger down the spine of a book. ‘And this one here – I thought the entire print run had been destroyed!’
Mrs Stone nodded primly. ‘Our chief librarian was sure you would appreciate our collection,’ she said, folding up her umbrella. ‘It is rare indeed for an outsider to gain access to our shelves. I hope you will produce a great work during your time here, so that our sponsorship does not go to waste.’
But Mrs Stone wasn’t looking at the Professor. Anna’s skin prickled as the woman’s gaze flicked in her direction, feeling as if she’d just been placed under a microscope.
‘It is unusual for us to play host to children,’ said the librarian. Her eyes were fixed on Anna’s face. ‘There are certain rules that must be observed. The first rule is that the upper floor is strictly out of bounds. Our house has fallen into a state of disrepair, and many of the higher rooms are unsafe. We would not wish any harm to befall you.’
Anna glanced up at the second floor. It was too dark to see clearly, but the corridor at the top of the stairs didn’t look damaged. She wondered if there were termites hiding in the floorboards.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘What’s the second rule?’
Mrs Stone drew herself up to her full height.
‘The second rule is of the highest importance,’ she said. ‘During your stay, you are not permitted to touch any of our books. Only the chief librarian is allowed to give access to our library, and she has given permission only to your father. Do I make myself clear?’
Anna tried to hide her disappointment as she looked around at the overflowing bookshelves. In the parlour alone there were hundreds of books: books with leather-bound covers, and books with titles picked out in gold, and even books with no covers at all, their pages stuffed hastily into various nooks and crannies. It didn’t seem fair for all those books to go unread. What sort of library put a ban on reading?
‘Ah,’ said Mrs Stone suddenly. ‘Here you are at last. Algernon, what do you have to say to our guests?’
Something soft pressed against Anna’s leg. Anna shrieked, jumping away in fright, almost tripping over the furry thing lurking at her feet.
A large ginger cat had appeared in the parlour. Its nose was long, and its face was mean; it hissed as Anna stumbled away, baring all its teeth. Mrs Stone bent down to pat its tail, her eyes sparkling.
‘That’s right, my dear Algernon,’ she said silkily. ‘Our guests have finally arrived.’
3
THE WITCH-HOBBLE LENDING LIBRARY
THE RAIN BEAT ON THROUGHOUT THE NIGHT. Anna tossed and turned, pulling her blanket tight, trying to fall asleep on a mattress as thin as a wafer. Mrs Stone had prepared the children’s beds in the only room without any bookcases. A large dead crocodile had been mounted on the wall instead, its scaly jaws casting frightening shadows across the bedspread. A framed assortment of scorpions and spiders hung beside it, their legs too many to count.
‘Not a single wink,’ announced Max the next morning. His eyes were bloodshot, and his voice was hoarse. ‘It was watching me, I know it was. Stupid bloody crocodile.’
The siblings were sitting on the porch outside, dangling their feet into the overgrown grass. The headstones in the cemetery glistened black.
‘And the ceiling wouldn’t stop creaking,’ said Max. ‘Mrs Stone was up on the second floor for sure, no matter what she told us. There were noises all night.’ He scowled. ‘S’pose it could have been that big fat pussycat, though. Algernon.’
Anna yawned, too tired to even complain. She grabbed a lolly from the bag Max had placed between them, chewing moodily on a bootlace as she looked out at the graveyard. In the cold light of day, it was sobering to see just how far into nowhere they had come. There were no other rooftops nearby; no road apart from the one they had driven in on. A mountain rose out of the gloom to the east, wide and low, its sides covered with trees.
‘Get your red book out,’ said Max. ‘Check it for crocodiles. And zombies. And mad librarians.’
Anna snorted. She reached into her backpack, pulling out a battered red book with faded letters on the front: FAIRY TALES FOR DARING CHILDREN.
The red book was Anna’s oldest possession. It was the first book she had ever kept on her bedside table: the first book she had ever read all by herself. The Professor had always said Anna must have stolen the book from his study when she was a baby, although he also claimed he didn’t remember ever buying it. However it had happened, Anna was eternally grateful that the fairy tales had reached her side. In Romania, the book had warned her never to give her real name to a fairy; in England, it had helped her outsmart a troll using its own ancient laws. For all the dangers the ‘old wood’ of the fairies had thrown at them, the red book of fairy tales had always kept them one step ahead.
Anna ran her hands over the scruffy cover. She smiled.
‘At least I’m allowed to touch this one,’ she said. ‘Pretty sure there’s nothing in here about crocodiles, though.’
‘Better not let Mrs Stone see it,’ said Max. ‘She might try and add it to her precious collection.’
Anna’s skin prickled. She glanced over at the forest, wondering if someone could be watching them from under the trees. She swallowed her bootlace hard, climbing to her feet.
‘Come on,’ she said. ‘I’m sick of looking at graves. There must be something else we can do – oh, go away!’
Algernon the cat was sitting on the doormat. He growled softly as Anna approached, his eyes fixed on her ankles.
‘We could play dares,’ said Max. ‘I dare you to pat that silly cat.’
Anna grimaced. Cats were her favourite animal, but there was something about Algernon that didn’t feel right. She reached out tentatively, her fingers hovering beside the cat’s ginger cheek.
‘Go on,’ said Max.
The front door burst open. The children jumped as Mrs Stone glowered down at them, her hands on her hips. Algernon shot inside.
‘It’s far too cold to play outside,’ said Mrs Stone. ‘You must come indoors at once!’
She waited as the children filed inside, watching closely to make sure they wiped their shoes. Anna felt as if she were being accused of a crime she didn’t commit.
‘I have found something to occupy you both,’ said Mrs Stone. ‘The chief librarian is visiting us tomorrow, and will be taking tea in the sitting room. Your father tells me you would be delighted to help prepare the room for her arrival.’
Anna could barely stifle her groan. She was about to answer when a loud crash echoed out from somewhere in the house. The crash was followed by a series of bumps, rustles and thumps: the unmistakable sound of a great many books sliding off a shelf at once. Mrs Stone’s eyes bulged as the Professor’s voice called out in alarm.
‘Mrs Stone!’ he said. ‘Oh, Mrs Stone! I was reaching for the top shelf, and I’m afraid – well, the shelf seems to have come loose, and now the books – oh, Mrs Stone, please come quickly!’
Mrs Stone looked ready to burst. She rushed out of the parlour, her face as dark as a storm.
‘I will return,’ she snapped at the children. ‘Stay where you are!’
Her heels clacked as she swept away. Anna sighed in relief.
‘Quick, Max,’ she said. ‘Give me another dare. Something that gets us a long way from here.’
‘Easy,’ said Max. ‘I dare you to steal dad’s keys and drive us back to the airport.’
Anna rolled her eyes, scanning the parlour for a fast escape. A mischievous thought sprang into her head.
‘I dare you to climb the staircase,’ she said. ‘Put one foot on the second floor.’
‘No way,’ said Max. ‘That’s heaps worse than what I dared you.’
Anna walked over to the staircase. She pressed her foot onto the first step, releasing a tiny puff of dust.
‘You can stay here and do chores if you want,’ she said. ‘But I’m going to make sure Mrs Stone can’t find me again. And where’s the last place she’s going to look?’
Max scrunched up his face. Anna took another step up, and another, smiling to herself as the staircase creaked. Her grin widened as Max ran up on his toes, darting along as quietly as a mouse. He reached the top at the same time as Anna, the siblings hiding in the shadows, listening out for any sign of the librarian below.
The corridor at the top of the staircase was long and windowless. The bloody carpet spilled merrily along, playing host to dead flies and flakes of paint. The doors leading off the corridor were closed.
Anna tiptoed to the nearest door, boldly turning the handle. It was locked.
‘Let’s try all of them,’ said Max. ‘If you’re brave enough to go that far.’
It was a good dare. The end of the corridor was thick with shadows, too far away for the light in the parlour to reach. One by one, the siblings tried each door handle, getting further and further away from the light. None of the doors budged.
‘Last one,’ whispered Max.
Anna reached out, her fingers twisting around the final handle.
‘Locked,’ she said, disappointed.
‘Too bad,’ said Max. He glanced back down the hallway, leaning against the wall. ‘Better go back to our room, then. We could hide under our blankets – argh!’
He squealed in fright as the wall made a horrible sound. Anna gasped, reaching out to grab him as he fell – but she was too late. Max disappeared in a cloud of dust, the house swallowing him up with an awful snap.
‘Max!’ cried Anna. ‘Max!’
A great flap of wallpaper had peeled off the wall. Anna swatted it away, coughing as she reached into the space beyond.
The wall had broken under Max’s weight. Max was lying winded in the room on the other side, his legs buried beneath a pile of splintered wood.
‘Oh no,’ he wheezed. ‘Mrs Stone is going to kill us.’
Anna had to agree. She reached in and grabbed Max’s dead hand, trying not to think of the punishments they would surely face when Mrs Stone discovered the hole in her library. How many priceless books had been locked behind that door? Anna pulled on Max’s arm, peering into the room beyond.
The secret room wasn’t as dark as the corridor had been. Soft, stormy light was streaming through a dirty window, illuminating some old wooden furniture: a desk, a wardrobe, and a large rectangular chest. To Anna’s surprise, the room contained only one bookcase, with a slim half-dozen books arranged neatly on its top shelf. The rest of the bookcase was empty.
Curiosity seized Anna. She let go of Max’s hand, sending him falling back into the room; and then she was crawling through the hole as well, her pulse quickening. How much longer did they have before Mrs Stone came looking for them?
‘Ow,’ said Max, rubbing his knee. ‘What’d you do that for?’
Anna walked over to the desk. Sitting on top of it was a map – a map of a forest. A trail had been marked on the map with red pen. It wound through the trees, ending with a flourish at a vast, circular lake. The start of the trail was marked with a single word: cemetery.
There were other papers on the desk, but the print was too small to read in the gloom. Anna turned to the bookcase instead, squinting at the titles on the spines.
APICULTURE IN ELDER FORESTS
THE ART OF SINGLESTICK
ADVANCES IN CRYPTOZOOLOGY (SECOND EDITION)
Anna didn’t understand any of them. She rubbed the dust off a book with a yellow cover, trying to read what it said.
‘We should go,’ said Max nervously. ‘No more dares. Let’s leave before we get caught.’ He sniffed. ‘Whatever’s in that chest smells really, really bad.’
Anna blew off the last of the dust. She stared down at the uncovered title, mouthing the words. Her heart skipped a beat.
PRINCIPLES OF WITCHCRAFT
Anna gasped. She flipped through the book, breathlessly looking at the illustrations scattered throughout the pages. There were pictures of trees and pictures of cats, pictures of honey jars and pictures of bones. But there was one picture that made Anna’s hair stand on end: one image that sent fear tingling all the way to her toes.
It was a picture of a tooth.
A tooth shaped like a long, white knife.
‘I think I heard something,’ said Max, wringing his hands. ‘We should go before – look out!’
Anna spun around as a hairy shape burst into the room. Algernon the cat landed squarely between them, his back arched high, his yellow eyes glinting with malice. He hissed at the siblings, his mouth open wide.
‘Children!’ called Mrs Stone, her voice echoing up the stairs. ‘Children! Where have you gone?’
Anna almost dropped the book in fright. She shoved it back into the bookcase as quick as she could – made sure all the books were standing straight – and then she and Max were diving back through the hole and into the corridor, Algernon in hot pursuit. Anna pressed the wallpaper back into place just as Mrs Stone appeared at the top of the stairs, her face twisted with fury.
‘Oh, there you are!’ said Max, his voice trembling. ‘We heard Algernon meowing, so we came up to investigate. I think he might have been chasing a spider.’
The lie festered in the air. Mrs Stone stared coldly at the children.
‘You have disobeyed me,’ she said. ‘That is your mistake. Now you will be punished.’
4
A TRICK IN THE BOOK
