Читать книгу Battle of the Beasts - Ned Vizzini - Страница 23

Brendan felt rage burning deep in his guts. Of all the nasty, underhanded things for Kristoff to do, he had to go after Eleanor? Why couldn’t he come after Brendan? What a coward!

I’d show him too, Brendan thought. Let Scott Calurio and his friends watch me take on Kristoff. We took care of him once; we’ll do it again. He’s nothing but a punk. Brendan lunged forward, ready to go Three Musketeers with Will, swing down on a tapestry, and take care of Kristoff, but Will stopped him and pointed: Listen. Brendan tuned in to the conversation downstairs.

“So what exactly have I been paying you for?” Denver Kristoff asked the scared Angel. “You’ve been working with the Walkers for a month. You should be familiar with their daily routine by now!”

“Mr Kristoff, I tried to explain—” said Angel.

“Just give me the information,” demanded Kristoff. “Where would Cordelia go?”

“Usually she’d be volunteering after school,” said Angel, “but yesterday she started acting very strange, because of this thing with her teeth—”

“You already told me about that. Good God, man, you’re useless!” said Kristoff.

Brendan seethed as he realised: Angel’s been working for Kristoff! When we put up the partition in the limo for privacy, he probably had a microphone back there to record us!

Kristoff continued. “Angel, all you needed to do today was pick up the Walkers and bring them to me. How could you fail in such a simple task?”

“Because Mr Walker fired me! I couldn’t help it! He said he needed to save money.”

“The weak-minded fool,” said Kristoff. “I never expected it to be so easy. All I had to do was sit down next to him at a bar and convince him to bet on one basketball game – now he’s run through almost his entire fortune.” Kristoff shook his head. “I shouldn’t be surprised. His great-grandfather was the same way: simpering, soft and weak. No core.”

Brendan’s hate grew as he heard Kristoff talk about Rutherford Walker, his great-great-grandfather, who had helped discover The Book of Doom and Desire. It’s not enough for him to ruin my present-day family, he has to talk trash about my ancestors too?

Eleanor, meanwhile, took advantage of Kristoff’s yammering and broke away from him, running for the door.

“Don’t waste your time,” Kristoff called after her. “The doors are all locked. You can’t get out.”

Eleanor beat on one of the big wooden doors that encircled the room, shrieking, “Somebody! Help!! Get me out of here!”

Brendan wanted desperately to help – but inside the Bohemian Club, Denver Kristoff wouldn’t have to worry about people seeing his disfigured face or calling the cops. He could go full Storm King and blast them all to bits.

Will shifted as Kristoff went to Eleanor and picked her up, kicking and screaming. He felt something jab against his thigh, inside Dr Walker’s trouser pocket. He pulled out a tiny green pencil and a score card from the Presidio Golf Club. He wrote something on the card and showed it to Brendan: What do we do?

Brendan took the card and wrote: U were right. We just listen.

Kristoff was trying to talk to Eleanor as he carried her. “I’m going to ask you one more time: Where is your sister? We need to find Cordelia. If we find her, we find my daughter, and then everyone’s happy. And we can all go on with what’s left of our lives.”

“Help me! Someone!!” Eleanor yelled. It was all Brendan could do not to charge down the stairs and pull her away from Kristoff and hug her. Even if he got killed immediately afterwards, it would be worth it to comfort his little sister. Eleanor didn’t deserve this.

But before Brendan could react, Eleanor kicked Kristoff between his legs. “Urp!” he managed, dropping her.

“I hope that’s as broken as your face!” Eleanor yelled, running back to one of the doors. “Help me! Someone!!”

Eleanor’s kick had done some damage. Kristoff was doubled over in pain, making squeaking noises. Brendan smiled. “No core”. Yeah, right. We have a core.

Angel stifled a laugh. Kristoff glared at him, still bent over. “You – find this – humorous?”

“No, sir,” said a terrified Angel. “Not at all—”

Kristoff reached up with a look of rage, chanting, starting to generate a blue lightning bolt over his palm.

“No! Mr Kristoff! Please!” cried Angel, trying to hide under the table.

Kristoff gritted his teeth as the bolt grew larger, eyeing Angel with intent to fry, when one of the doors opened.