The Velvet Fox Page 8

  Then she heard it.

  A furious kek kek.

  It was far off in the house somewhere. She jumped up at once and went to look. She tried all the first-floor rooms but when she came to the schoolroom and put her hand on the knob and tried it, it was locked.

  Seren put her ear to the wooden panel.

  Mrs Honeybourne was in there, singing. Her voice was sweet and high, and then it was joined by Tomos’s shrill treble. They were singing a song Seren had never heard before – it was in some strange, whispery language, and even the letters and sounds of it seemed to creep and crawl all over her as she listened with her ear to the door.

  She shivered.

  That wasn’t Latin or Greek.

  That was no human language.

  She backed away from the door, scared.

  Was the Crow in there, too?

  She tried the bedrooms, even Lady Mair’s room, and it was there, on the dressing table, that she saw the comb. It was mother-of-pearl, with beautiful silver edging, and it was so new that it was still wrapped in the shiny paper it had been bought in.

  Seren took it and looked at it.

  Not a single one of Lady Mair’s long, dark hairs was caught in it. It had never been used.

  Perfect!

  As she held it she saw herself reflected in the tarnished mirror, a small girl with untidy hair and a stained dress.

  She looked like an orphan.

  She looked like a thief.

  So she wrote a hasty note on Lady Mair’s notepaper.

  I HAVE BORROWED YOUR COMB

  I WILL BRING IT BACK, I PROMISE.

  LOVE SEREN

  Though as she slipped the comb into her pocket she still felt guilty.

  She came out into the corridor and stood, listening.

  Had that just been a laugh?

  A soft velvety laugh?

  This was the East Wing, the very oldest part of the house. Now, looking down the corridor, she noticed that where it turned the corner there was a small red door. Was it a cupboard? She had never seen it before. She walked down and looked at it, and then, after a moment, opened it and listened.

  ‘MMMMNNNNNgggg!’

  The call was far-off and echoey. But she was sure it was the Crow, and it sounded as if he was in trouble.

  The door was so tiny she had to crawl on hands and knees to fit through it.

  On the other side was a winding stair, made of yellow wood.

  Seren hurried up. Dust rose around her; she sneezed.

  The stairs were so small her feet would hardly fit on them. They seemed to get smaller the higher she went. And there were so many of them! She climbed up and up until she had to stop for breath, and it didn’t make sense because there was no tower in the house, no tall turret. So how was she climbing so high?

  She held the stitch in her side.

  Then, from above, unmistakably, came the Crow’s screech!

  Seren pattered round and round until at last she was at the top. She ducked through a low arch and stopped and stared, wide-eyed.

  A ballroom!

  Its ceiling was glass. The sunset light flared through and turned everything red. Spindly pillars rose to support it, so many there seemed no end to them: an indoor forest all wound with carved leaves and blackberries and hips and haws. Mirrored glass lined the walls, so that it was hard to tell where the room ended and the reflections began, and in the middle, dangling upside-down from a silver chain, was the Crow!

  ‘How did you get here?’ she gasped.

  The Crow made a peculiar, moaning noise. She saw its beak was tied shut with a scarlet ribbon. It wriggled and flapped its wings and spun crazily around, its eyes bright and furious.

  ‘NGH … MMMMMM … HNN!’ moaned a hundred Crows in the mirrors.

  Seren looked cautiously down the length of the vast room. Surely it was empty?

  But it was hard to tell because of all the pillars and the reflections from the mirrors. So she tiptoed forwards, cautiously.

  The further she went the stranger she felt. The room seemed to stretch like elastic. All its walls were tilted, its floorboards at odd angles. They made creaks like spoken words under her feet.

  The Crow shook its head so vigorously the chain jingled. ‘MNNNNGGGOOOOO!’

  ‘All right! I’m coming!’

  The strangeness was because the room wasn’t still.

  The pillars were growing. She could see that from the corners of her eyes. They sprouted acorns and conkers. And between them were glass chandeliers that caught the sunset light and glittered like fountains of flame.

  She could see herself, reflected over and over; all the reflections were different and most of them impossible. She saw Seren running with Tomos, Seren pretty, Seren in fine clothes, Seren holding the hands of her mother and father.

  That last one was hard.

  She wanted to close her eyes not to see any of it, but she couldn’t, so she kept them open and fixed on the Crow.

  The trouble was now there were hundreds of Crows too.

  ‘Keep making the noise so I know which is you!’

  The Crow, dangling in its chain, spun and groaned.

  ‘All right. I’m here. Keep still!’

  She had to stretch up. Her fingers found the end of the ribbon, and she pulled, and it undid.

  The Crow gave a great gasp of breath, and at once all the chandeliers lit up with hundreds of candles. Music started. The Crow, almost choking with rage, spluttered and spat. ‘You stupid girl! It’s a trap! It’s a trap!’

  Something pulled Seren’s hair; she shrieked and turned.

  The Dancer was standing right behind her. The faery creature wore an elegant white dress and swan feathers in her hair. Her eyes were glass-green and her eyelashes were painted like twigs and branches. ‘Dance with me, little star,’ she whispered.

  Seren went cold all over.

  The Dancer held out her thin hands. ‘Dance with us all, Seren! The ball has begun!’

  Suddenly Seren was in a crowd of shadows. Ghosts of dancers waltzed and turned and shimmered all around her. The music moved in her veins; it lifted her hands; it pointed her toes; it made her want to spin and leap.

  ‘Don’t!’ The Crow was savagely pecking at its chain. ‘Don’t dance, or you’re lost forever!’

  ‘I can’t stop it!’

  ‘Yes, you can! You’re stronger than Them!’

  But her arms were lifting and stretching out, and the Dancer smiled a cool smile and stepped forward.

  ‘No!’ The Crow fought. Dust and feathers flew. ‘Seren, don’t!’

  She wanted to dance. To dance forever. To forget Mrs Honeybourne and Denzil and Tomos and even the Crow. To waltz and pirouette in the wonderful music. Her hands stretched out for the white fingers.

  And then the Dancer’s face changed. An intent, greedy look slid into her eyes.

  ‘What’s that?’ she whispered.

  Seren blinked. She realised that Lady Mair’s pearl comb was in her hand, that its silver edge was gleaming as she held it out.

  ‘That’s a present,’ she said quickly. ‘A present for you.’

  ‘Good!’ the Crow whispered, upside-down.

  The Dancer’s eyes were shining now; she snatched the comb and held it up in delight and whirled on her pointed toes. ‘How lovely! How wonderful!’

  Seren took a breath. The frenzy to dance was gone. It was as if the Dancer had lost all interest in her. The pearl comb seemed to fascinate the creature.

  ‘What is it for? Is it magic?’

  ‘It’s to comb your hair,’ Seren said. ‘Try it. Go on, see if you like it.’

  The Crow was watching. The Dancer loosed her cloud of thistledown hair and carefully drew the comb through it. She gave a soft laugh. ‘It’s so shivery!’

  She combed again.

  And again, as if she couldn’t stop.

  She combed out leaves, and berries, and acorns.

  She combed out birds and brambles.

  Ser
en took a hasty stumble backwards.

  ‘Untie me!’ the Crow croaked, and Seren backed towards him, her eyes always on the strange creature before her.

  It was combing itself to pieces.

  Pale silvery leaves showered down, the glimmering dress became fragments of cobweb floating away on the breeze.

  ‘What’s happening to it?’

  ‘Never mind that, you stupid girl! Just get me out of here!’

  The chain seemed strong but when she tugged at it, it snapped quickly. The Crow fell, then flapped its wings and creaked round, landing on her shoulder. ‘Oh my head! I’m so dizzy I can’t see straight.’

  ‘Don’t dig your claws in!’

  ‘Then keep still!’ The Crow balanced, and stared. ‘Good heavens. Look at that.’

  Because there was no Dancer anymore, just a small whirlwind of silvery dust and leaves spinning down onto the ballroom floor. The comb fell out of it with rattle. As they watched, the dust shrivelled to a white mistletoe berry that rolled to Seren’s feet. She snatched it up and had it in the silver box in a snap.

  At once the chandeliers went out, the ghost dancer disappeared.

  Even the reflections in the mirrors were gone.

  ‘Excellent! Brilliant! Two down!’ The Crow took off and flapped triumphantly, high into the roof of the ballroom, right up to the crystal ceiling where it perched on a rafter and stared out. ‘And one to go!’

  ‘Two,’ Seren said absently, looking round in wonder. ‘How can mirrors suddenly have no reflections?’

  ‘Ah … er … too complicated to explain to a child.’

  ‘That means you don’t know.’ She folded her arms. ‘So are you going to say thank you?’

  ‘For what? I got you here and I told you to get the comb. So I basically rescued myself.’

  The Crow tipped its head, sly and sidelong. ‘But I wish I knew what They are up to. I have a horrible feeling that these figures are just distractions, and that somewhere, something worse is going on. And look.’ Its voice sounded worried. ‘Look at the moon!’

  Seren ran to a window.

  The full moon was rising over the trees.

  And it showed her such a strange thing! The shadow of Plas-y-Fran stretched below her over the lawns, but the shadow was all wrong! It was the shadow of a house that had high towers and turrets and gargoyles; it was much too big, as strong as a castle, and strange pennants and banners seemed to be flapping from its slanted roofs.

  ‘They’re taking control of the place.’ The Crow flew quickly down and hopped on to the floor.

  ‘What do we do?’

  ‘We hurry.’ It scratched a moth-hole absently. ‘Where is this ghastly governess creature?’

  ‘In the schoolroom. Singing.’

  ‘Then come on. Before it’s too late!’

  It had swooped down the winding stair before she could breathe; she had to run after it frantically. Thundering down, she gasped. ‘The other figures…’

  ‘They won’t stop me,’ the Crow boasted. ‘Not now you’ve got the pine cone.’

  Seren gasped. ‘But… I haven’t! I haven’t got it!’

  It was no good, the Crow was too far ahead to hear and, strangely, by the time she came down to the bottom of the stairs the door out was so tiny she had to lie on the floor to wriggle through, and as soon as she stood up and looked back, it squeezed itself down to nothing and went out like a light.

  She stared in bewilderment.

  Then she ran.

  The Crow was pacing impatiently on the landing. ‘That woman will not get Tomos. Besides there’s only one schoolmaster in this house and that’s me! We need to destroy the carousel. Are you ready?’

  ‘Yes, but…’

  ‘Not scared?’

  ‘NO, but…’

  ‘Then let’s go!’

  10

  The tangled hedge

  From tiny seeds see darkness grow

  Round house and boy and girl and crow.

  ‘This is just too easy!’ The Crow swooped down the corridor between cabinets of china cups and plates, eyeing its reflections, enormously pleased with itself. ‘Child’s play really. Two down, one to go.’

  ‘You keep saying that.’ Trailing behind, Seren gasped for breath. ‘But…’

  The Crow swept her words away with a lofty wing. ‘The fact is, I am more than capable of dealing with the Tylwyth Teg. Once I take a firm hand They just can’t stand up to me. I once cleared out a whole colony of goblins for a king who paid me with gold moidores. Did I tell you about that? Enoch and I went to Venice on the profits… And then there was the time of the Black Butterfly Infestation at Balmoral Castle. Not to mention the affair of the Haunted Swimming Baths on the Tottenham Court Road – one of my greatest cases. Easy-peasy stuff for a sorcerer of my remarkable abilities.’

  ‘You sound like Sherlock Holmes.’

  The Crow scoffed. ‘I’ve never read that rubbish. My memoirs will be far more sensational.’

  Seren sighed. The Crow could boast forever, but she was still very worried. Why was the schoolroom door locked? What was going on inside? And where was everyone? The whole house seemed strangely quiet. She stopped, and said, ‘Listen.’

  Irritated, the Crow landed on a shelf, and put its head on one side. ‘What? I can’t hear anything.’

  ‘Exactly! Neither can I. It’s suppertime, but where are all the noises of the servants, the pots rattling, the doors slamming, the kettle whistling? The house is too quiet, and it’s too dark!’ She looked up at the grandfather clock with its white face. ‘It’s only six o’clock. It shouldn’t be so dark yet!’

  ‘Well, let’s find out.’ The Crow looked along the corridor towards the kitchens and waved a wing. ‘Go and take a look.’

  Seren crept under the rows of servants’ bells. She came to the kitchen door and peeped in.

  The fire in its great hearth had sunk right down to a dull glow of coals. Sam the cat was fast asleep on the mat. Lily the housemaid was sitting in the rocking chair with her head on one side. A knife had slipped from her hands and lay on the floor, along with a potato and a spilled pile of peelings.

  Seren slid in and went up to her. ‘Lily! Are you all right?’

  But Lily didn’t move. Then Seren saw Alys. The cook was sprawled at the kitchen table and she too was fast asleep, her head on her hands, with her greasy apron on and a half-drunk cup of tea still steaming in front of her.

  Seren didn’t like this at all. She reached out and shook Alys’s shoulder. ‘Wake up! Alys!’

  But the cook didn’t move.

  ‘WAKE UP, EVERYONE!’ Seren yelled.

  Nothing stirred. No one yawned or sat up, the cat’s ears didn’t flicker. There was not even a snore, just the deep, horrible silence. And now, as Seren turned a full circle in the vast kitchen she saw that everything was asleep – the clock no longer ticked, the spit had stopped turning, even the long drip from the tap hung without falling.

  ‘It’s a magic spell!’ she whispered.

  The Crow flapped in and perched on the clothes horse. He glanced around rapidly then shook his head in disgust. ‘Not a very original one either. Absolutely predictable.’

  ‘It’s just like Sleeping Beauty!’

  ‘Fairy tales. Deep, dark and dangerous. What puzzles me though is who did it.’

  ‘Mrs Honeybourne?’

  The Crow gave a dismissive snort and hopped from one foot to another. ‘I very much doubt it. From what you say she’s a nasty spiteful creature but not all that powerful. A spell to put the entire house into an enchanted sleep is something only a very sinister being indeed could control. I’m sure we’re being played with. There’s nothing else here, is there?’

  She frowned. ‘Well…’ For a moment she couldn’t remember. Then a sudden thought struck her. ‘Wait a minute! If it’s really like Sleeping Beauty, won’t other things have happened too? Outside?’

  The Crow’s jewel eyes blinked. It stared at her in dismay. Then they were both di
ving for the windows. Seren dragged the shutter back; the Crow twitched a curtain aside with its beak.

  ‘OH MY GOODNESS!’ Seren gasped.

  A thick black tangle of thorns and brambles was right up against the glass!

  The hedge scraped and scratched the windows as if it wanted to get in. The branches were as thick as her arm and so tightly woven that nothing bigger than a mouse could have crawled between them.

  ‘This is why it’s so dark!’

  The Crow pushed its beak right up against the window and stared up and down. ‘Hmm. Someone’s done a really good job.’

  ‘How did it grow there so fast?’

  ‘Oh, you stupid child. How do you think? I could tell you a hundred stories where the Fair Family plant a tiny seed and in seconds…’

  ‘All right, but how do we get out!’

  ‘We can’t. Well, maybe I can try to fly, but…’

  Seren caught a bright flash from the corner of her eye.

  ‘Get down!’ she yelled. She grabbed the Crow and pulled; he tumbled off the sill with an astonished squawk and fell flat on his back with outspread wings.

  A green ball came from behind them and exploded against the shutter with a crash that made her ears ring. Another sizzled through the air and burst with a huge bang right next to her. Sparks fell on her hands and stung her.

  The Crow gave a shriek of pain and flapped itself all over. ‘I’m on fire!’