The Book of Learning E-Book

E. R. Murray

• Herausgeber: Mercier Press
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Serie: The Nine Lives Trilogy
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 402

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015

Beschreibung

The exciting adventures of Ebony Smart, a twelve-year-old girl who discovers she is part of a special tribe of reincarnated people – and a terrible curse. Ebony has just one week to break the curse or die; if she fails, the future of her family, and her people, is at risk – does she have what it takes to succeed? •tA magical story with an Irish setting for readers aged 9–12 years;     appeals to both boys and girls •tAn exciting fantasy adventure from the publishers of the Arthur Quinn     series •tAn active and respected author After the death of her beloved grandfather on her twelfth birthday, Ebony Smart's world is turned upside down. Orphaned for a second time, she is sent to Dublin to live with her weird Aunt Ruby, with only her pet rat, Winston, for company. With every window nailed shut and a mysterious locked room, 23 Mercury Lane is brimming with secrets. Warned against entering by a voice in the shadows, Ebony is fearful for her future, but has no idea how much her life is about to change. Aunt Ruby informs Ebony that she is part of the Order of Nine Lives – a special tribe of people who reincarnate. She claims Ebony has one week to break a terrible curse or else die – and if she fails, the future of the Order of Nine Lives, and her family, is at risk. With so much at stake, Ebony discovers it's difficult to trust – especially when there's somebody else trying to race her to the finish. Does she have what it takes to succeed when nothing is what it seems?

Leseprobe

MERCIER PRESS

3B Oak House, Bessboro Rd

Blackrock, Cork, Ireland.

www.mercierpress.ie

http://twitter.com/IrishPublisher

http://www.facebook.com/mercier.press

© E. R. Murray, 2015

ISBN: 978 1 78117 362 6

Epub ISBN: 978 1 7811 364 0

Mobi ISBN: 978 1 7811 365 7

This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

For Mick O’Callaghan

and the village of Schull

Contents

Kapitel 1

Kapitel 2

Kapitel 3

Kapitel 4

Kapitel 5

Kapitel 6

Kapitel 7

Kapitel 8

Kapitel 9

Kapitel 10

Kapitel 11

Kapitel 12

Kapitel 13

Kapitel 14

Kapitel 15

Kapitel 16

Kapitel 17

Kapitel 18

Kapitel 19

Kapitel 20

Kapitel 21

Kapitel 22

Kapitel 23

Kapitel 24

Kapitel 25

Kapitel 26

Kapitel 27

Kapitel 28

Kapitel 29

Kapitel 30

Kapitel 31

Kapitel 32

Kapitel 33

Kapitel 34

Kapitel 35

Kapitel 36

Acknowledgements

About the Author

About the Publisher

Prologue

The thick, black night hangs heavy with murder. Two figures in a hilltop field edged with woods are silhouetted against the bright moon: one chunky and slow-moving with a cap wedged on his head, the other slim and nimble, hair blowing free. Hands clenched on each other’s arms they wrestle, their struggle silenced by the roar of the wind and the storm-tossed ocean.

No one should be in this desolate place at such a late hour.

A shadow comes alive as a creature slips between the gnarled trunks of the nearby trees, too big to be a fox. A crack of lightning splits the sky, revealing an angry, weather-worn face, unshaven and unloved. Why does he race so quickly through the woods? Is he a friend or an enemy?

A second lightning strike shows why the pair struggle: a small handgun. A third flash and one man is down – a desperate cry carried on the wind. ‘Ebony!’

1

Most girls wake on their twelfth birthday to the sound of laughter and songs or the whiff of sizzling bacon. They tremble with the excitement of opening brightly wrapped gifts and being the centre of attention. Instead, Ebony Smart was shocked out of her sleep by a high-pitched bleep which droned long and loud, piercing her eardrums like needles. Its callous din signalled to the world that Grandpa Tobias was dead.

Despite the fact that Ebony had sat holding his hand for three whole days, telling him his favourite stories and mopping his sweaty forehead, he hadn’t once opened his eyes. It broke her heart that now he would be silent forever. She didn’t yet know what had caused his death, but one thing was certain: there was a motionless husk where Ebony’s grandpa used to be.

The old man could no longer regale his granddaughter with tales of tugboats in America. He’d never again show her how to steer their little fishing boat around hidden rocks or when it was safe to push forward, harnessing the wind’s power. He wouldn’t fry sprats with wild garlic, or prune back the lavender bushes, and he’d never visit Swaziland as he’d always dreamed. Saddest of all, the world had lost his smile.

Ebony sat holding her grandpa’s hand, her head bowed. It was 10.30 a.m. on April 13th. She was officially twelve years old and truly alone in the world. Her only birthday present was to be allowed to sit with the body of her grandpa and say her goodbyes.

The second hand on the clock in the hospital room hammered like a timpani drum. Her grandpa used to tell her that all over the world, timpani drums announced the most important arrival in any show, from ballet to bullfighting. Ebony’s mouth tightened. She hoped that wherever her grandpa’s soul had gone to, the drums would be beating for him.

She pressed her lips to his hand. It was as pale as her own, but coarse and cold. Despite her best efforts not to, she began to cry. Closing her eyes, Ebony was back on the sea with her grandpa, forcing their small boat home towards Oddley Cove harbour against a tough wind. As the vessel smashed into the angry waves, her face stung with sea water and her hair stuck flat to her head. She could hardly see through the grey sheets of rain, but she wasn’t scared because her grandpa knew the seas.

‘When I go from this life, love, I want my last breath to be here,’ he’d said. ‘I don’t want to be dying in no hospital. If I have to bottle it up and carry it down myself as a ghost, I will. You mark my words.’

‘I’ll bring it for you, Grandpa, in my pocket,’ she’d promised.

He’d laughed heartily. ‘I’m sure ye will, love.’ His craggy face crinkled until the flesh around his eyes hung in folds and his eyebrows jiggled underneath his cap as though trying to break free of his face.

‘I don’t ever want you to die, Grandpa,’ she’d said, cuddling into him as the storm raged around them.

‘We all have to go someday,’ he’d replied, ‘but we’re not lost forever. You just have to look for the signs: the glint of sun on the water or wind rustling through the treetops – that’s when you know that anyone you’ve ever lost is there.’

Pulling herself away from the painful memory, Ebony wiped her tear-filled eyes. She’d missed his final exhalation, sleeping at his side. Now she would never get the chance to complete her promise. Her tears slipped off his hand onto the stark white sheets.

‘It’s OK, Ebony. We’ll meet again, you’ll see.’

Feeling a tremble run through her grandpa’s body, Ebony sat up abruptly. The lifeless face stared back at her. She had heard the words clearly, but his face was grey, his lips motionless, and yet they seemed to have shifted into a slight smile.

‘Grandpa?’

Ebony bit her lip and shook his shoulder gently.

‘Grandpa!’

A doctor entered the room, straightening the collar on his stiff white coat. He fiddled with the pens in his pocket, then coughed. He’d never handled a death like this before. It was an unusual case; the man’s heart had stopped yet none of the hospital’s tests had found anything wrong with him. The doctor placed his hand on Ebony’s shoulder, trying to soak up some of her sadness.

‘My g-grandpa, he’s s-still alive,’ she stammered, shaking the body again. ‘Do something!’

Leaning over the body, the doctor felt the cold wrist and pressed his fingers against the dead man’s leathery neck. Ebony waited, barely daring to breathe.

‘I’m sorry, he’s … gone.’

‘But he spoke to me. I heard him. He told me we’d meet again …’ Her voice faltered.

‘Let him rest now. He’s in a better place.’

‘At least tell me how he died,’ pleaded Ebony.

The doctor shook his head. ‘We’re not sure yet,’ he said. ‘It was probably just old age, his body shutting down.’

‘But he was never sick!’ cried Ebony.

The doctor sighed. The living always tried to cling on to their dead.

‘We’ll be able to tell you more after we’ve done further tests.’

As the doctor left the room, Ebony started to weep ferociously. Her grief ricocheted into the pristine corridors where it rattled like a ball-bearing. The hospital’s few patients gathered outside the door to pay their respects through the window. An old man crossed his torso in blessing.

‘Grandpa, don’t go!’ Ebony’s words were barely audible, entangled in sobs, as the timpani drum continued to announce every second without him: tick, tick, tick.

‘Ebony, I’m sorry to say this, but it’s time for you to leave,’ said a distant voice some time later.

Ignoring the doctor, Ebony slumped over Grandpa Tobias for the last time. Her hair flooded his face with thick black curls, like seaweed trapped at the shore. The doctor gulped. ‘A man from the authorities has come to pick you up. He’s in the waiting room.’

Ebony frowned and wiped her eyes. She kissed her grandpa’s forehead and turned to the doctor, nodding her assent.

‘I know this is difficult for you, love. But it’ll be all right, I promise.’

‘It’s OK, Doctor. I’m going.’

There was so much more she wanted to say, like not to call her love – only her grandpa was allowed to call her that. And not to make promises, because how could anything ever be all right again? But the words caught in her throat like fog. Standing tall, as her grandpa had always taught her, she left the room without a backward glance. But not to go, as instructed, to the waiting room; Ebony Smart had other ideas.

2

Back at the cottage, Ebony ran straight to her pet rat, Winston, a gift from her grandpa on her eighth birthday. She took him out of his cage and balanced his fat stomach on her shoulder. Winston clung on with pinprick claws, nibbling at her hair. Ebony chuckled as his whiskers tickled her ear – but the laughter sounded wrong somehow.

Everything in the cottage was how she’d left it three days ago. The living room still shared its warm, homely space with the kitchen and led to two snug bedrooms. The ceilings remained too low and the floors overly rickety. The woody smell of cigar tobacco lingered in the air. The last time Ebony had been here she’d been planning the next fishing trip with her grandpa. Afterwards, he’d gone out for supplies but never came back. She’d received a telephone call from the hospital that night.

Ebony sighed. The suffocating Grandpa-shaped void loomed everywhere: in the wellies near the front door, in his favourite armchair, next to the radio in the kitchen, and, worst of all, on the garden bench where he used to sit and watch the sea. ‘It’s like learning to read,’ he would say. ‘You’ve got to practise every day until it’s second nature. The sea tells you stories and secrets if you take the time to read its moods. Just like young girls!’ When he wasn’t worried about the weather conditions, he would ruffle her hair. When he could sense a storm coming, he’d keep his gaze fixed on the water.

Flicking on the radio to fill the silence, Ebony opened each window just an inch – exactly how her grandpa liked it. He reckoned that the sea air stopped you getting sick. Apart from in the hospital, she’d never seen her grandpa poorly; even over the last few days, he’d been unconscious but didn’t seem that ill. She’d never expected to be returning home alone. As her broken promise rose in her stomach, tears threatened to fall, but Ebony forced them back.

She didn’t have much time – people would come looking for her soon.

First: fresh water and food for the cats. At the first whiff of meat, all six of them appeared from their favourite lolling places, all fur and mews. As she stroked each one in turn they curled around her legs and purred. Next: the dogs. Ebony headed out to the yard overlooking the woodland and, with two fingers in her mouth, blew a loud whistle. Several dogs appeared, barking and yelping with delight. She herded them into the garden and tipped a whole bag of food into their makeshift trough. As they fed, she listened carefully to the rustling treetops – after all, her grandpa said that’s where you’d hear people you’d lost – but the familiar sound only made her feel more lonesome.

‘Good boys.’ She sighed, bending down to stroke Mitzi, the one-eyed Shih Tzu that her grandpa had rescued as a pup. Mitzi whimpered and pawed Ebony’s shin. ‘He’s gone, but he’s in a good place,’ she said.

Her eyes went out of focus as tears welled. Ebony blinked them away. Then, with Winston firmly in place, she marched down to the goat field. The goats looked at her dumbly, completely unaware of any change. She hosed water into their trough and left them grazing on the grass. Finally, the chickens. A few handfuls of seed and the late morning feed was complete.

If only she could run this place on her own and make her grandpa proud.

Ebony climbed over the fence and wandered down to the steps that led to the sea, careful to avoid going near their private quay; she couldn’t bear to see their little fishing boat just yet. Winston’s nose twitched, detecting the salty air. He scurried into the warmth of her jumper sleeve.

Standing on the huge grey rocks, looking out across the ocean, Ebony could sense how deeply the sea mourned the old man. She pictured him lying on the ocean floor, looking up to the surface of the water and smiling at the sun. Reaching into her left pocket, Ebony imagined her grandpa’s last breath to be there. Waving her hand as though skipping stones, she released it out across the sea, to be carried on the milky-grey waves and gulped up by the tide. Under her breath she whispered a final farewell, hoping her words would fall to the deepest ocean bed and be buried like treasure.

At the front of the cottage, a midnight-blue car with the number plate ‘N1NE L1VE5’ inched into the driveway. Peering out from behind the wheel was a shiny-faced man, his grey-blond hair slicked into a V at the nape of his neck and his face as expressionless as a puppet’s. Unable to get an answer by knocking on the front door, he sidled across the grass towards the back garden, barely acknowledging the mud that caked his gleaming shoes. As he reached the corner, the man was confronted by a cacophony of snarling mouths, loud barks and vicious teeth. One dog leaped up, pinning him against the side wall of the house with its heavy paws, its angry face just inches from the tip of his nose.

The man lifted his briefcase high above his head without a flicker of emotion. But before he could strike, he saw a small, bony figure with wild black curls hurtling in his direction. The figure turned out to be the girl he was looking for, her skin too pale and her eyes too big. She was dressed like a boy. Her mud-splattered jeans had a hole at the knee and she wore a thick, cherry-red jumper which was fraying at the cuffs. One sleeve bulged heavily.

‘You must be Ebony,’ said the man.

‘They don’t like intruders,’ replied a young, husky voice, as the girl nodded towards the dogs, ‘and neither do I.’

‘I don’t care what you do or don’t like,’ replied the man. ‘I’m Judge Ambrose and you’re coming with me.’

3

Judge Ambrose sat bolt upright on the sofa, directly across from Ebony, fixing her with a black stare. Ebony glared back, surveying the stranger’s pinched face. It resembled a vole – all nose and teeth, with sharp, distrustful eyes. The man’s hair was as slick as oil and his skin was taut and glossy, as though it had been stretched across a skull that was too large.

After what seemed like a very long time, Judge Ambrose cleared his throat, ready to speak. Ebony smiled inwardly; she’d won the first battle.

‘I know this is a difficult day for you, but you can’t go running off like that. Everyone was worried,’ said the judge, sounding more inconvenienced than worried.

Irritated by the lie, Ebony couldn’t help her outburst. ‘Everyone knew exactly where to find me. The animals need feeding at the same time every day.’ She folded her arms and waited.

‘I don’t mean these … Oddley Cove fools … I mean us, the Order of Nine Lives, your own kind.’ His tight skin quivered slightly as he clenched his jaw. ‘But I take it from the dumbstruck look on your face that you have no idea what I’m talking about.’

Ebony shrugged, feigning indifference, but inside, her mind raced. Who is this rude man? And what does he have to do with me?

‘Let me enlighten you … I’m the High Court judge at the Order of Nine Lives headquarters.’ A slight, proud smile played on the judge’s lips, suggesting that she should be impressed. When she didn’t react, he continued haughtily. ‘Everything about you is answerable to me – where you live, with whom you speak, even what clothes you wear.’ He threw a disapproving eye over Ebony’s outfit. ‘You are now in my charge and I must be obeyed.’

Ebony had heard about these official types from her grandpa, sticking their vole-shaped noses in where they weren’t wanted. When her parents died in a boating accident – their bodies never recovered – the authorities had said Grandpa was too old to look after a baby. His wife had died many years earlier and they said it would be too difficult for him to raise a child on his own. But he’d proved them wrong, and now maybe she could prove them wrong too.

‘You could be anybody,’ she said coolly.

Judge Ambrose flashed an identification badge, which Ebony instantly dismissed.

‘That could be fake. So, if you don’t mind, I have things to be getting on with.’

As she stood up, Judge Ambrose fixed Ebony with an icy stare. She felt a sudden sting in her wrist and cried out in pain. It was as though someone or something held her in a vice-like grip, but when she looked down, her wrist was completely untouched. She wriggled and twisted in an effort to get away, but the grip tightened.

‘Stop struggling and it will stop hurting,’ said Judge Ambrose matter-of-factly.

As Ebony continued to fight, the pain in her wrist became unbearable. Her breath quickened and sweat beaded on her forehead, but no matter what she did, she couldn’t break free. When she grew too tired to struggle, the pain stopped, but her heart continued to pound. How did he do that? she thought, rubbing her wrist and trying to keep her nerve.

‘As I said, I must be obeyed. You may not understand yet, but you will. Your aunt in Dublin will see to it. She’s expecting you later today.’

Ebony felt her whole body tense. His words sounded like a threat, rather than encouragement.

‘What aunt in Dublin? I’ve never heard of an aunt in Dublin.’

‘Your father’s sister.’

Ebony slumped a little. She didn’t really know anything about her mum or dad because Grandpa had always been too grief-stricken to talk about them much. But why didn’t he ever mention an aunt? She’d always thought he was her only family.

There was another long silence. It reminded Ebony of the hospital corridors, the echo of her footsteps as she left her grandpa’s body behind.

‘I’m staying here. I have the animals to look after and no one can run this place like me. I can take care of myself.’

‘That is not an option.’ Judge Ambrose’s words were so forceful, Ebony fell silent. ‘You can’t stay here alone. It’s the law.’

‘I won’t be on my own, if that’s what you are worried about. I know everyone in the village, and Grandpa’s friend, Old Joe, comes to help out. He’ll make sure I’m all right.’

‘Out of the question.’

Ebony felt like screaming at the man, but she remained quiet and let the anger gnaw at her insides – at least it replaced some of the fear that he inspired in her.

‘It’s not safe for you to stay. Not without Tobias’s protection. We’ve got to get you out of here. You need to make friends – and quick.’

‘I have George. And Cassandra.’

‘Are they reliable? Do they live nearby?’

Judge Ambrose clicked open his briefcase and started typing into a small notepad computer.

‘Yep. Just there,’ she replied, pointing.

Judge Ambrose glanced out of the window, then slammed his briefcase shut. ‘They’re goats!’

‘Yep. But they’re my friends and good friends too. Loyal and trustworthy; all the friends I need.’

Judge Ambrose’s face darkened, but Ebony wasn’t about to stop there.

‘And I have my best friend, Winston.’ As Ebony lifted her arm, Winston popped his ratty face out from her cuff and squeaked. Judge Ambrose paled. His body shifted and his eyes widened a few millimetres.

‘It’s OK. Look, he’s friendly.’

Ebony shoved the rat under the judge’s chin. Judge Ambrose took a sudden swipe at Winston and Ebony cried out in surprise, snatching her pet out of harm’s way just in time. As she did, the front door burst open.

‘Everything all right, missy?’ It was Old Joe, holding a spade in his two hands like a staff.

‘Kind of,’ panted Ebony. ‘Judge Ambrose here is scared of Winston, that’s all.’

‘Scared, never. Disgusted, yes. It’s a rat and rats carry disease. They’re vermin.’ A vein in the judge’s forehead pulsated ever so slightly.

Old Joe and Ebony exchanged glances.

‘I’m sorry about your grandpa,’ said Old Joe.

Ebony looked at the floor, unable to respond. It was like something hard and cold was lodged in her throat, preventing her from speaking. As though completely oblivious, the judge composed himself, straightened his tie and locked his eyes firmly on Winston.

‘I’m sorry, Ebony,’ he said, not sounding very sorry at all. ‘You have exactly thirty minutes to pack your things and be ready to leave.’

Ebony sat down, fixing her eyes on the carpet until the patterns danced. Old Joe scratched his chin. ‘So it’s true then, missy? You’re leaving Oddley Cove?’

‘I don’t have any choice, do I?’ she snapped, her hair swamping her face, covering the redness of her eyes and cheeks.

‘Where are you off to then?’

‘Dublin.’ The word stung, wasp-like.

‘Well, you’ll be missed, that’s for sure. Just as much as your old grandpa.’

She took comfort in those words and looked up at Joe’s wrinkled, bristly face.

‘It’ll be all right, Ebony. Don’t you worry yourself. I’ll look after the animals and this place. Now, you’d better go and pack.’

Ebony hesitated.

‘You can come back as often as you like. This’ll always be home, ain’t that right, Judge?’

Heading out through the door before she could hear the reply – she didn’t care what the judge thought – Ebony went into her grandpa’s bedroom and pulled his bruised suitcase from the top of his wardrobe. It was covered in faded stickers which showed the countries he had visited and was bound together by strong leather straps. Her grandpa had loved that suitcase and had taken it everywhere. Ebony vowed she would do the same.

Taking it to her own room, she loaded the suitcase with jeans, jumpers and T-shirts. Winston watched quizzically from the pillow. But when it came to fastening the straps, she found she’d packed it too tightly and the buckles and straps wouldn’t join. As she tried forcing the top down, a small square lump appeared, sticking up under the leather. Ebony lifted the suitcase lid and slid her hand over the silk lining – there was something inside. Taking out her pocket knife, she sliced through the silk. Inside was a small black presentation box. She flipped its velveteen lid open to find a round mahogany disc gleaming like a polished conker. It had a small ribbon and pin attached to it, like a medal. On the top side, burned into the wood, was the image of a door surrounded by trees and a huge, round moon. Ebony turned the medal over in her hands; on the back she found the words Presented by the Nine Lives High Court. Ebony gasped. What had Grandpa been hiding?

‘Are you ready yet?’

Ebony jumped as Judge Ambrose’s voice floated from the doorway.

‘Almost,’ she replied, glancing over her shoulder at him but being sure to shield the medal from his view. ‘I just need another minute or two.’

‘Hurry up, we need to get going,’ he said and turned back towards the main room.

Only when she was certain that he was gone did she quickly shove the medal back in its box and return it to the lining, before removing some of her clothes and buckling the case up tight. Then, grabbing her small rucksack, Ebony stuffed it with a bag of food for Winston, a framed photo of her grandpa and a carefully labelled scrapbook of every animal she’d ever owned. Finally she reached out of her bedroom window and sliced three cuttings from the rosebushes that grew beneath the ledge. The flowers were rare and special and almost as black as Ebony’s hair. When they bloomed, the petals were frilled and unruly. Her grandpa had planted them especially for her and just looking at them reminded her of him, of his great big smile as he lumped manure around the main stem to help them grow. Taking the roses felt like she was taking a piece of her grandpa with her and she knew that, if she looked after the cuttings properly, she could grow several bushes in his memory.

Wrapping the stems in wet paper and sealing them up in a small plastic bag, she carefully hid them in the top of her rucksack. They were her roses, her memories, and she didn’t want to share them. After checking several times to make sure the cuttings weren’t getting squashed, Ebony scooped Winston onto her shoulder and marched out of the room to where Judge Ambrose was waiting, stiff and silent.

‘Let’s go,’ she snapped, clutching her belongings.

Judge Ambrose flicked his head in the direction of the cage.

‘Where is it?’

Ebony tilted her head towards her shoulder. Old Joe moved quickly, despite his years. ‘Here, you’d best put Winston in his cage for now. Make sure he’s safe on the journey. Don’t want Judge what’s-his-name to get distracted and crash into a ditch.’

Ebony thought she wouldn’t mind the judge crashing into a ditch one bit, so long as Winston wasn’t harmed, but there was no point arguing.

Old Joe took Winston and Ebony’s case and followed the judge to the car. Ebony surveyed the cottage one last time before joining them. She sat in the back seat to avoid having to talk to the judge and hugged her rucksack. As they pulled away, she waved at Old Joe who tipped his cap in reply. With Winston relegated to the boot of the car, she faced a miserable journey all alone.

This was the worst birthday ever.

4

It was almost ten o’clock at night when Ebony Smart stepped out onto the rainy streets of Dublin without an umbrella. The judge was tutting angrily, annoyed by the city’s one-way system and lack of available parking spaces.

‘You go on inside while I find somewhere to park the car and report back to headquarters. Number 23,’ said Judge Ambrose, pointing across the road. ‘We can’t have you catching a chill.’

Before the judge drove off, Ebony rescued Winston from the boot. Glancing into the night, it was almost impossible to see anything because of the heavy rain cutting through the air at a slant, cold and sharp. The moon was hidden behind chunky grey clouds and the street was aglow with dull orange streetlights. She watched sullenly as the ‘N1NE L1VE5’ number plate disappeared into the gloom. The drive had been silent and tense; there was so much she wanted to know but she had no desire to ask the judge anything. She had to make it clear that she wasn’t going to answer to him. But he hadn’t seemed to care and, instead, she was left feeling foolish and lonely.

Crossing the road in the thick rain with the rat cage clutched to her chest, Ebony’s stomach lurched. She walked quietly even though the sounds of the city were drowned out by the drum of raindrops on the pavement. It made Ebony feel even lonelier as she stared up at 23 Mercury Lane.

The imposing building resembled an angry face. Only two of the eight windows glowed with an amber light, flickering in the downpour like blinking eyes. Ebony had never seen a house so big. A willowy figure glided past one of the dimly lit windows. Could it be my aunt? she thought.

Wind and rain swirled around Ebony’s heavy coat, sneaking up the hems of her jeans. Bells chimed somewhere nearby as a clock struck ten. She sighed. Even the judge would be a welcome companion right now.

‘I know, at least I have you,’ said Ebony, as Winston shuffled in his cage.

Winston puffed out his fur and settled down contentedly. As Ebony looked back towards the building, she spotted a shadow creeping along the railings. She glanced around but she was alone in the street. Still, the shadow grew and Ebony stared at it, mesmerised. Her breath quickened.

‘It’s OK, Winston,’ she said, ‘it’s just our imagination.’

Frozen to the spot in his cage, Winston stayed silent. His whiskers quivered and his tail pointed straight. The shadow grew until it became human-shaped and covered Ebony’s own. She turned around.

A rough-looking man stared down at her from inside a black hood. He looked like he hadn’t washed or shaved for weeks. His eyes bulged, red raw and bloodshot, and his coat was covered in stains. Under the streetlights his skin had a bluish tinge.

‘You’ve returned,’ he said, reaching for Ebony’s coat sleeve. She took a step back, avoiding his hand. Winston rushed from one end of the cage to the other. Ebony tightened her grasp so she wouldn’t drop it.

‘I’m sorry, do I know you?’ Her voice quivered.

‘It’s me, Icarus. Icarus Bean.’

‘I’m sorry, you must have made a mistake,’ she said, her voice firmer and louder this time. She glanced into the night; how long did it take someone to park a car? She could moor their fishing boat quicker.

‘No mistake. I’ve been waiting for you.’

The man called Icarus pulled down his hood. His hair was matted, sticking out like twigs. His eyes gleamed and his thin lips looked pale and mean in the black night. Ebony took another step back and tried to hide the fact that she was trembling.

‘I-Icarus Bean,’ she stammered. As soon as she said his name, a shudder prickled her bones. ‘I’m certain we’ve never met. This is my first time in Dublin.’

‘But you do know me,’ he insisted, desperation tinging his voice.

Winston ran to the back of his cage and burrowed into the straw, leaving only his tail poking out. Ebony fought back tears for the umpteenth time that day.

‘Stay back. You’re scaring me.’

She immediately regretted her words. She knew that animals attacked when they sensed you were scared and weren’t people just animals, after all?

Icarus Bean looked into Ebony’s eyes. ‘You must try to remember!’

The man was clearly insane. As he stepped towards her, Ebony backed up until she was wedged between him and a lamp post. There was no escape. He leaned in and Ebony closed her eyes.

Somewhere nearby, a car door slammed. Ebony’s eyes shot open and Icarus jumped. He looked towards the sound with nervous eyes and quickly backed off.

‘This won’t be the last you see of me,’ he said, taking slow, retreating steps. ‘I can promise you that.’

Hearing footsteps approach, Ebony shouted ‘Judge Ambrose! Over here!’ By the time the judge arrived, Icarus had melted into the shadows.

‘Why are you still outside?’ He looked at her closely, squinting. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

‘Did you see that man?’

‘What man?’

‘The scruffy man, with a hood and red eyes; he was just here …’

‘I didn’t see any man.’

‘He was right here. He said he knew me.’

Judge Ambrose fixed his gaze on Ebony. ‘It’s just your imagination.’

Ebony seethed. How dare he speak to me like that?

‘You’re tired and you’ve had a shock. Grief can play strange tricks on the mind. I suggest you don’t go troubling your aunt with your wild imaginings – now is not the time for stories.’

‘But–’

‘No buts. I don’t want any mention of this to your aunt. She’s a sensible lady. She’ll not take kindly to storytelling.’

Unable to listen to any more orders, her bones throbbing with anger, Ebony grabbed her case and marched up the stone steps. It seemed heavier than when she’d set out from home that afternoon. At the top, the door was bright yellow and glossy. It had a heavy knocker made out of tarnished brass, adorned with a gargoyle’s face – and on the wall there was an old-fashioned letter box showing a snarling lion. Judge Ambrose sauntered after Ebony and bashed the knocker against the door with a resounding boom. The noise made Winston poke his nose out of his warm straw.

‘Don’t go in yet,’ a voice grunted from the shadows.

Ebony looked around and saw two pinpricks of red in the darkness. Were they his eyes? She drew closer to the judge, who was staring intently at the door, completely unaware. Ebony willed the door to open. Thunder rolled across the sky, dying in the distance with a low groan. Judge Ambrose banged again. Shivers rippled along Ebony’s spine and into her numb toes. Winston sneaked back into the safety of his straw.

‘You’re not safe,’ Icarus Bean called, a little louder this time.

With a thumping heart, Ebony looked at the judge pleadingly, but there was no reaction – it was like only she could hear Icarus’s voice. She stared back towards the red pinpricks. A flash of lightning split the sky open, illuminating the street. The red dots were nothing more than reflections of bicycle lights. The rusty old frame chained to the railings looked as though it had been abandoned for some time.

As another bolt of lightning sparked across the sky, turning it white then violet, Ebony leaped up onto the top step. Winston’s cage banged off the door, sending a loud twang of metal out into the night.

‘You’re in terrible danger,’ shouted Icarus Bean at the top of his voice.

Ebony couldn’t see him, but his words seemed to come from all directions. The hairs on her neck bristled as the door of the monstrous house creaked open.

‘Judge Ambrose. Miss Smart. Do come in,’ said an invisible, gravelly voice from the gaping hallway.

Ebony didn’t need telling twice: she was already inside, panting and clinging to Winston’s cage.

5

The hallway was dimly lit and dingy. Its high ceilings made the air chilly and damp. A gilt-framed mirror ran the length of the wall, reflecting the gloom. Ebony could just make out the outline of a tall, bony woman lurking near the door.

‘I’d like to thank you for taking charge of Ebony, Mrs Von Blanc,’ said Judge Ambrose, extending his hand.

‘We all have to do our duty. Isn’t that right?’ answered the voice from the shadows, ignoring the gesture.

A long, thin face emerged from the darkness. Mrs Von Blanc had a small pointed nose and an angular chin. She wore a stiff black dress, which went right up to her neck and down to her ankles. The long sleeves tapered to her wrists, giving her the appearance of a wintery tree. She wore a grey scarf tied around her head which hid every scrap of hair. Everything about her aunt looked grim, Ebony thought. And sensible, as the judge had described.

Ebony felt a single raindrop drip from her collar and trickle down her neck into the crease of her back. She stiffened but didn’t dare move. Goosebumps prickled on her arms. Winston peeped out from his straw but quickly hid again.

‘Is she always this sullen?’ asked her aunt, nodding in the girl’s direction.

‘She’s rough around the edges, madam, but that’s to be expected.’ Judge Ambrose lowered his voice. ‘She reminds me of you in your wilder days, only she’s completely ignorant.’

Ebony straightened her back despite the rainwater running down it and clenched her jaw. There was no way she was like this stiff, spiky woman. And she was not used to being talked about as though she wasn’t there.

‘I see. Then we shall have to make sure that she’s educated quickly.’ Aunt Ruby turned towards her niece. ‘Well, turn around. Let me look at you.’

Fury rose inside Ebony; perhaps being ignored was better after all. Back home, people spoke to their chickens more politely than she was being addressed now. But she forced the anger down and turned around as requested.

Like her aunt said, she would have to learn quickly.

As she turned, Ebony caught a reflection of herself in the mirror. A sorry, rain-soaked girl stared back at her. Her black hair was flattened to her head in coils and her cheeks were luminous with cold. Her skin looked transparent.

‘You look a fright, don’t you?’ barked her aunt.

Ebony looked at the floor. This was a miserable city and a miserable house belonging to miserable people. She wanted to go home. But there was no one there for her now that her grandpa was gone. She hugged Winston’s cage closer to her chest.

‘I can see that this one is going to need plenty of discipline. Stand up straight, girl. Did your grandpa not teach you anything?’

Judge Ambrose smirked. ‘Right, well, I see that everything is in order. You have a duty to protect and care for the girl. Make sure she is educated in our ways – but don’t go spoiling her. And keep her out of trouble. If you could just sign here, Mrs Von–’

In a split second, the papers were wrenched from the judge’s grasp and signed. Before he knew what was happening, Judge Ambrose found himself out on the street, the door closed firmly behind him.

After securing several locks, Aunt Ruby attached her eye to the spy hole and waited. Satisfied that the judge had gone, she spun around and whipped off her headscarf, revealing the most luscious shock of red hair that Ebony had ever seen.

‘Right, let’s try that again without any snoopers around.’ She extended her long, gracious hand. ‘Ruby Von Blanc, at your service.’ Her voice was like corn popping in a tin pan.

Ebony stared, completely stunned. Her aunt’s hair flowed down to her waist, as straight as newly ironed sheets. It burned the colour of fire, making her violet eyes sparkle like jewels. Instinctively, Ebony recoiled from the outstretched hand.

Aunt Ruby let her hand drop.

‘I’m sorry about being rude and for that comment about your grandpa,’ she said, sounding so genuinely regretful that Ebony felt a little guilty for rejecting the handshake.

‘You knew my grandpa?’

‘Of course. He was my father! And a very good one.’

‘He was a good grandpa too,’ said Ebony, trying not to let too much emotion show and wondering why Aunt Ruby seemed so unaffected by her father’s death.

‘Honestly, I didn’t mean a word of what I said, but it’s the only way to get the High Court off the scent. They look after us, create our laws and uphold them, but they really are far too nosey and I like my privacy. Power can be a terrible thing, and when someone gets as powerful as the judge you can never be quite sure whose side they’re on.’ Aunt Ruby peeped through the spy hole again, for good measure. ‘Here, can you help me out of this horrible dress? I have to wear it to hide the fact I’m still in action. Wild days, indeed … if only he knew!’ She spun around, clunking and clattering as she went, revealing a long zip.

Placing Winston on the ground and moving forward tentatively, Ebony pulled the zip down as far as it would go. Her aunt struggled out. Underneath she was wearing a green camouflage-patterned jumpsuit complete with what looked like an enormous tool belt. Ebony stared dumbstruck as the belt jangled with pliers, compasses, stacks of keys and other odd-looking instruments. Who is this strange woman? she thought.

‘How come my grandpa never mentioned you?’

‘He didn’t?’ Aunt Ruby looked into Ebony’s distrustful eyes. ‘No, I guess he couldn’t. Oh, you poor girl!’ She rushed at her niece and gave her a tight squeeze. Ebony didn’t know how to respond. She patted her aunt’s back in a polite gesture as a wave of longing flooded her heart.

‘Now, let me take a proper look at you,’ said Aunt Ruby, eventually letting go and pulling Ebony into the living room. As she switched on the light, Ruby Von Blanc let out a sharp gasp and ran to the window, slamming the heavy wooden shutters closed with a frightened look. ‘You can’t be too cautious, dear. You never know who is watching or when danger is near.’

The words of Icarus Bean rang in Ebony’s ears and she wondered what dangers lurked in 23 Mercury Lane. But she didn’t have much time to think. As soon as her aunt calmed down, she grabbed Ebony and held her at arm’s length under the light.

‘Hmm, not bad. A bit paler now, but then you’ve got your mother’s skin.’

Before Ebony could react, Aunt Ruby spun the girl round slowly on the spot, poking and prodding her like a prize cow at market.

‘Thin but definitely stronger than before. Not bad at all.’

Paler now? Stronger than before? Why does everyone here seem to think they know me? wondered Ebony.

As her aunt continued checking her over, Ebony tried to make sense of her surroundings. There was a real fire, with flames lapping up the chimney flue. Their bright flickers made the golden leaf pattern on the shutters glimmer and dance. There was no sofa. Instead, the floor was littered with beanbags and cushions made from thick, lush materials. Many were decorated with flowers; Ebony recognised pansies, roses, daffodils and irises. A huge urn next to the fire was decorated with lilies; her aunt obviously loved plants. At least they had something in common. Ebony thought of her own garden back in the village and hoped that Old Joe would water the leeks.

Remembering her roses, she opened her rucksack to take them out so she could put them in water. But the roses weren’t there. Frantic, she yanked everything out of her bag. Still no roses.

‘No!’ she cried.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked her aunt.

But Ebony was too distracted to reply. Running out into the hall, she stuck her eye to the peephole to see if she could see the bag of roses on the steps or in the road, but there was no sign of them. Frustrated, she tore at the locks on the front door. Her aunt followed after her.

‘Stop!’ she said, grasping Ebony by the shoulder and pulling her round to face her. ‘Whatever is the matter, girl?’

‘My roses!’ gasped Ebony. ‘They must have dropped out of my bag in the car. They’ll die.’

Aunt Ruby narrowed her dazzling eyes. ‘Roses?’

‘We have to stop the judge and get them back.’

‘Roses?’ repeated Aunt Ruby, wrapping one arm around Ebony’s shoulder and guiding her gently from the door.

‘Black roses. Grandpa planted them for me …’

Aunt Ruby took a turn at the peephole. ‘He’s gone,’ she said. ‘But tell me more about these roses. Are they frilled, black like your hair?’

Ebony nodded, her blood boiling with frustration. How could she have been so stupid, leaving them behind like that?

Aunt Ruby clamped her hand over her mouth. She pulled Ebony back into the living room, giving her just enough time to scoop up Winston’s cage and set him on one of the beanbags as she closed the door.

‘Ebonius Tobinius? You have some?’ asked Aunt Ruby in a low whisper.

‘I don’t know what they’re called. But they’re black – they’re special.’

‘Of course they’re special! The crafty old devil kept them a secret from me all this time … How many do you have?’

‘A whole bush outside my window at home; I brought some with me to help me remember.’

‘Did Judge Ambrose see them?’

‘I don’t think so. No.’

‘This is great news. I thought … we all thought they were gone. Destroyed.’

Ebony wasn’t sure how any of this was good news. She stuffed her hands into her pockets. ‘Are you sure you know them?’ Her face twisted in confusion. ‘My grandpa said they were very rare.’

‘Of course I know them. Who doesn’t?’

Ebony pulled a face but Aunt Ruby looked her straight in the eye. ‘Did you leave all of them in the car? Did any fall deeper into your bag?’

Ebony checked her bag again, then carefully repacked it one item at a time.

‘I’ve lost all of them.’ Ebony stared at the ground.

‘Oh, dear, that is very disappointing,’ Aunt Ruby whispered to herself, as though forgetting Ebony was there. She paced in front of the fire, her long thin shadow flitting across the walls.

A grave feeling welled up in the pit of Ebony’s stomach. From somewhere in the hallway a floorboard creaked. A draught sneaked under the door and around her ankles, making her quiver. After a momentary glance towards the sound, Aunt Ruby took Ebony by the hand and led her to a beanbag in front of the roaring fire.

‘Why don’t you sit down? I’ll get you some hot chocolate. It’s been a long and terrible day.’

6

Ebony sipped on the warm mug of chocolate and felt a little better. As its welcome sweetness slipped down her throat like velvet, Aunt Ruby whipped a pipe out of her utility belt and lit it with a slim, silver lighter. She chugged on the pipe stem until the tobacco crackled. It didn’t smell as nice as the tobacco Ebony’s grandpa had used; it lacked the hint of sea air. Aunt Ruby suddenly stopped chugging and pointed her pipe towards Winston’s cage. Winston was snoozing peacefully.

‘Is that a rat?’

Worried that Winston might be taken from her, Ebony picked her words carefully. ‘He’s a friendly rat.’

‘Good. I like rats. Clever creatures. But make sure you watch him around here. Your Uncle Cornelius is even fonder of rats than I am.’

Uncle Cornelius? No one had mentioned an uncle. Ebony’s head swam. Her seemingly simple life was suddenly full of secrets.

‘Aunt Ruby, why haven’t I ever met you – or Uncle Cornelius – before?’

There was a long pause as her aunt examined the stem of her pipe, before staring into the fire.

‘My father, your grandpa, thought it was for the best.’

‘To keep me isolated? I thought I had no one …’

‘He was trying to keep you safe.’

‘Safe?’

‘From the city. From your destiny. Who knows what dangers lurk? He was trying to safeguard your future.’

‘The city I understand but … my destiny? What does that even mean?’

Sucking on her pipe, Aunt Ruby stared into space, her fingers tapping the pipe stem restlessly. Brows knitted, she seemed to be searching for the right words. Just as Ebony was convinced her aunt was never going to answer, Ruby began to speak.

‘Did your grandpa ever mention anything about the Order of Nine Lives?’

‘No.’

‘Not even once? A passing comment, perhaps?’

‘Not that I can remember.’

‘So he didn’t tell you about our beliefs? Didn’t share any thoughts on certain matters that you might find unusual? Reincarnation, for instance? Mystical worlds?’