Читать книгу The Longest Halloween, Book Three: Gabbie Del Toro and the Mystery of the Warlock's Urn - Frank Wood - Страница 7

“You’ve seen this man before?” the elegant man asked the tired barmaid.

“No.”

“Please look again at the picture.”

She did. “I know Jack of the Lantern, Mr. Croft. Who doesn’t? And like I said, I don’t think it was him.”

“You don’t think?”

“That’s right,” came the curt reply. “Now, if there’s nothing else?”

“Well, thank you anyway for your time,” the man sighed.

“Now you two just need to go on away,” Edgar, Barnabas Croft’s driver ordered in a rough voice, speaking to the boy and girl loitering about the carriage.

“But we need to talk to that man,” the girl insisted.

“What’s all this about?” Croft asked sharply, in a bad mood from his recent unhelpful interview with the barmaid.

“These two cretins have been following us from the Halloween village, sir,” Edgar said. “I told them they need to beat it!”

“But we need to talk to you!” the girl insisted. “it’s important. It’s about what happened at Jack’s house.”

“What do you the two of you know?” Croft asked, intrigued.

“Go ahead, show him what you stole!” the girl ordered the boy. The boy obediently opened his hand and dropped a small bauble into Croft’s hands. “I told him that it was a crime scene and he ought not to be meddling with stuff,” she said, “but he didn’t listen to me.”

Croft and his driver examined the bauble.

“Is that...?” Edgar asked.

“It’s the school’s insignia,” Croft said with a sigh.

“Oh dear,” Edgar said.

“Have you shown anyone else this?” Croft asked. The boy shook his head.

“Very well, then.”

Barnabas Croft’s carriage rumbled along the stony pathway. His trip had been delayed and he was much later returning to the school than he desired. As they drove, he conferred over eeriemail with his officials back in Ghoulsville.

“I’ll be there shortly. Just keep me posted with any new developments and tell Barister not to worry. I’ve been hard at work on his behalf and I have a strong suspicion as to who might be behind these machinations. I’m going to send you what I have, though, just in case. There have been some new findings that the initial inspectors weren’t made privy to,” he said, placing the bauble the boy had given him at the last stop into the eeriemail communication. The carriage rumbled to a stop just as the object was swallowed up, as if accepted by the communicator.

“Look, I need to go. Something’s up.” The eeriemail imagery before him dissipated.

In a moment, a body was heaved to the ground from atop the carriage. Edgar! Barnabas tore out of the carriage. Two darkly clad, masked characters idled atop brooms in front of him.

“What’s this all about?”

“Just a bit of a delay in your trip, Principal Croft.”

“Your voice sounds oddly familiar.”

“Well, it should, Principal,” the lead one reached up and pulled off his mask to reveal a swarthy male face with a tousled mess of dark brown hair that crowned his head and cascaded into an impressive beard that covered all of his chest.

“Benjamin Marsh!”

“Yes, your old student, Principal. I am sorry that things had to end like this for us,” the one named Benjamin Marsh said. “I learned a bit from you, but sadly, it won’t be applied to the path I’m following.”

“What’s the meaning of this, Marsh? Why have you been framing a good civic group for this heinous crime? And what have you done with the Everlasting Wick?”

“Well, it does figure that if anyone should discern our methods it would be you, old teacher. Unfortunate that you won’t be around to see how it all plays out.”

Before Croft could move, Marsh thrust out his hand and black and brown sparks emerged from long, thick fingers to fell the other man, striking him in the chest. Croft crumpled to the ground alongside the unfortunate Edgar.

Marsh knelt by him and thrust his hand over Croft’s face. “Remember this, Principal? You once called it, I believe, an abomination,” Marsh seethed. A red glow formed in his hand. “Funny that it’ll be the very thing that ends your existence.”

Marsh clamped his reddened hand over Croft’s face. Croft writhed and screamed as his features began to fade and then disappeared forever under the malevolent intent of Marsh’s hand. Marsh stood, towering over his two victims with his great height.

“Shall we destroy it?” asked one of the warlocks with him.

“No, leave this one,” Marsh replied. “I want them to know what they’re dealing with.”