Shadow Wrack Page 12

  Robert, with Horace still on his back, had emerged and joined them in the street. They all stood for a moment looking up at Hanlan’s Hill, which was strangely peaceful in the moonlight. The boulders from the rockslide lay here and there on the slope. Only one — about the size of an armchair — had made it all the way down into the street, and had landed square on the hood of a parked car. Tengu peered at it closely.

  “Say … isn’t that Hacker’s car?”

  Horace winced, but everyone else roared with laughter, and they started on their way home.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Hearth and home

  It was very late. The streets were deserted, or nearly so.

  Two young men in zombie face paint sat on a porch littered with bottles. Their mouths dropped open at the sight of Robert clip-clopping past.

  “Du-huuuude! Wicked costume, man!”

  Willa’s mom split off to go home, and Willa took charge of Belle’s chair.

  “Is it okay if I stay a bit to get everyone settled in?” asked Willa.

  “Take as long as you need.” Her mom gave her hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you, honey. I had no idea what was happening over here.”

  “It’s okay, Mom. To be honest, neither did I, until it was in the middle of happening.”

  Her mom gave a little laugh and disappeared down the street. Willa turned to Belle with a raised eyebrow.

  “So you two are best friends now?”

  “No,” Belle answered sharply.

  Willa smiled. “That’s okay. You don’t have to be. But …” She paused anxiously. “Are you going to stay?”

  “Not at your place.” Belle glowered.

  “That’s okay, too. Wherever you like.” Willa gave Belle a sudden hug.

  “All right, all right. Enough mush,” Belle muttered, but she was smiling.

  Back at the house, Willa closed the gate to the outside world and heaved a great sigh of relief. Tengu helped Horace down from Robert’s back. Horace was very weak, but grinning.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to take you to your hotel?” Robert asked.

  Horace shook his head. “No, no, I’d rather stay here. I … I always need to remember who I am, and this is the best place for that.”

  “I’ll see what I can throw together in here to make you comfortable.” Robert was ducking to enter the stable when Fjalarr appeared at his side, loudly clearing his throat. Robert looked down at him in surprise. “Yes?”

  The dwarf gestured toward the house. The other dwarves were hauling their bags and belongings out of the basement and piling them in one of the skeletal ground floor rooms.

  Robert nodded. “Good idea. Horace, the dwarves want you to stay in the house.”

  The dwarf shook his head and gestured again to the house, and then to Robert specifically.

  “Me? In the house?” Robert blinked in surprise. “Really?”

  Robert and the others followed Fjalarr around to the side of the house. There Willa saw a brand new development: the earth had been dug away from one side of the foundation to form a sort of ramp leading down to the basement, where a large wooden door now opened, spilling light into the yard.

  Robert looked at the dwarves in surprise. They were lining the path. “The basement’s … finished?” he asked. The dwarves nodded, gesturing for him to go in. Robert paused. Tengu let out a laugh.

  “You’ve been bellyaching for a room for so long … would you rather stay in the stable?”

  Robert smiled and clopped gingerly down the ramp. Willa and the others followed. Robert ducked when he reached the doorway, until he realized the door was tall enough for him.

  “Aaah!” he exclaimed, and entered upright.

  The room glowed with firelight from a massive fireplace, and candles shone from wall sconces. The flickering light danced across walls carved with scenes of centaurs, satyrs, nymphs, and other fantastic figures. The entire room was constructed in warm, golden wood, with deep red carpets and draperies. The ceiling was high and the room was largely empty of furniture, perfect for Robert to manoeuvre in, but at one end there was a large, sturdy table with massive chairs, carved with gorgeous patterns. The table was piled high with platters of cakes and pastries, and jugs of a ruby-red drink that Robert eyed with glee.

  “Would that be dwarvish port wine there? Wonderful stuff! I haven’t had a sip of that in about a thousand years!”

  Mjodvitnir himself was busy filling glasses and handing them around. He even had tiny flower blossom cups for the fairies. All eyes were on Robert as he held his glass high, admiring the colour in the light. Then he cast an affectionate eye on the dwarves.

  “Friends! A toast to the dwarves. We didn’t welcome them, we didn’t want them. We doubted them, we quarrelled with them, we warred against them. Above all, we forgot the most basic truth about dwarves, a truth that, through all the mists of history, has been proven time and time again: that dwarves are craftsmen of undeniable skill, warriors of indefatigable spirit, and souls of infinite generosity. I apologize for my boorish behaviour, gentlemen, and …” here his voice broke a little as he looked around his room “… and I thank you for my new home, from the bottom of my heart!”

  The cheers and applause lit up the night. Willa sank into a chair and watched the scene. Robert and Mjodvitnir shook hands heartily and sat chatting. Baz and Tengu made up a bed for Horace in front of the fire, and Horace sat there with a blanket around his shoulders, smiling from ear to ear. The others toasted each other, telling stories and laughing. Someone pulled out a squeezebox and a fiddle. Belle began to sing in a high, clear voice that bewitched them all. Baz jumped up to dance, and Tengu let out a whoop and joined her. Mab disappeared for a bit, returning with her silvery knitting in hand, and she sat cross-legged on the mantle to knit. The other fairies filled the air with miniature fireworks, ribbons of flash, and glittering colour that melted slowly in the firelight.

  And Horace watched it all from his corner, his eyes shining with delight. Willa leaned back in her chair, sighing happily.

  “The Hackers will be complaining about the noise tomorrow. But right now … I just don’t care.”

  The End

  In the Same Series

  Eldritch Manor

  by Kim Thompson

  Twelve-year-old Willa Fuller is convinced that the old folks in the shabby boarding house down the street are prisoners of their sinister landlady, Miss Trang. Only when Willa is hired as housekeeper does she discover the truth, which is far more fascinating.

  Eldritch Manor is a retirement home for some very strange beings indeed. All have stories to tell, and all have petty grievances with one another and the world at large.

  Storm clouds are on the horizon, however, and when Miss Trang departs on urgent business, Willa is left to babysit the cantankerous bunch. Can she keep the oldsters in line, stitch up unravelling time, and repel an all-out attack from the forces of darkness, all while heading off the nosy neighbours and uncovering a startling secret about her own past?

  Also Available from Dundurn

  A Bone to Pick

  by Gina McMurchy-Barber

  It’s a dream come true for Peggy Henderson when her friend, Dr. Edwina McKay, lets her tag along to the Viking settlement at L’Anse aux Meadows National Park in Newfoundland, where Dr. McKay will be teaching archaeology field school for the summer. Peggy already knows a lot about archaeology — having been on three previous excavations — but does she need to brag about it so much? After alienating herself from the other students with her know-it-all attitude, Peggy accidentally discovers a Viking burial cairn. The students and archaeologists are ecstatic. But when it comes time to excavate, she’s banned from participating in the dig. Will Peggy’s trip to Newfoundland end just as badly as the Vikings’ did? She’s afraid it will — that is until she learns an unexpected lesson from a Viking warrior.

  Mac on the Road to Marseille

  by Christopher Ward

  F
ifteen-year-old Mackenzie returns to Paris to attend the Christmas Eve wedding of her Dad’s old friend, Rudee Daroo, and the love of his life, dancer Sashay D’Or. Mac is told about the annual New Year’s taxi road rally, this year hosted by the Marseille Marauders, the nastiest lot of drivers you’ve ever seen.

  Partnered with hulking cabbie Blag Lebouef, Mac manages to convince her parents that the road rally is more like a carefree drive in the French countryside than the death-defying cutthroat rivalry it’s always been. Negotiating brutal weather, cryptic signage, outright sabotage, random flocks of sheep, and zigzagging back roads, Mac and Blag might be the perfect combination of cunning and brute strength.

  On the road, she makes the startling discovery that the clues the drivers have been given during the rally could lead to the discovery of some valuable missing artwork. Is that worth losing the rally over?

  Copyright © Kim Thompson, 2015

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (except for brief passages for purposes of review) without the prior permission of Dundurn Press. Permission to photocopy should be requested from Access Copyright.

  All characters in this work are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Editor: Allister Thompson Design: Laura Boyle

  Cover Design: Laura Boyle

  Epub Design: Carmen Giraudy

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Thompson, Kim, 1964-, author

  Shadow wrack / Kim Thompson.

  (The Eldritch Manor series ; book 2)

  Issued in print and electronic formats. ISBN 978-1-4597-3205-6 (paperback).--ISBN 978-1-4597-3206-3 (pdf).-- ISBN 978-1-4597-3207-0 (epub)

  I. Title.

  PS8639.H62676S53 2016 jC813'.6 C2015-904177-5

  C2015-904178-3

  We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and Livres Canada Books, and the Government of Ontario through the Ontario Book Publishing Tax Credit and the Ontario Media Development Corporation.

  Care has been taken to trace the ownership of copyright material used in this book. The author and the publisher welcome any information enabling them to rectify any references or credits in subsequent editions.

  J. Kirk Howard, President

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