Authors: Gabrielle Lord
December (12 page)
During the darkness of a winter dawn, we all got up and left the hotel behind. We had to move on. Time was ticking down and we were keen to leave Sligo and the bad memories of our
encounters
with Brinsley behind. At the bus station we bought tickets to Kilkenny.
We were stinging for Sharkey to return from his reunion so he could join us, but he was going to have to follow us to Kilkenny later.
‘We’d love to see the Black Abbey,’ Winter said to the landlady, Mrs O’Leary, as we were
checking
in. ‘We’ve heard there’s a big book sale happening there shortly.’
‘Yes, yes, they have it every year,’ Mrs O’Leary
cheerfully comfirmed. ‘Fond of books, are you? Well, you might find something very old and very rare for a good price.’
She gave us directions to Kilkenny Castle, too, and we rugged up and headed for the old attraction.
As we walked the paths under the dripping trees, we tried to imagine how the castle would look in summer with the huge oak trees full of leaves and the roses blooming.
But after some aimless wandering, I stopped walking and sat down on a low brick wall.
‘What is it?’ Winter asked, sitting down beside me.
‘I feel like we’re wasting time. I don’t think there are any answers for us here. How about we go back to the Waterford and get our torches—we can go check out the Black Abbey tonight, see if we can find more information about the book sale tomorrow. Don’t want anyone getting their hands on
Lives of the Saints
before we do.’
‘Sounds like a good idea to me,’ she responded.
‘Let’s move,’ said Boges, tugging on his beanie.
I couldn’t help thinking, as we hurried through the dark, sleety night, up the hill towards the Black Abbey, that this could all add up to a big fat zero. All we had was the word of one man—now dead—who thought the last two lines of the Ormond Riddle were in this mysterious book.
I wondered, too, why Sligo had murdered Dr Theophilus Brinsley. Was it out of frustration when he realised that Brinsley didn’t have the missing two lines? Or was it because Dr Brinsley wouldn’t tell him where they were?
But what if he
had
told him where they were? That would mean Sligo could already be in Kilkenny. Instinctively, I looked around us, even though it was almost impossible to see anything in the darkness.
The bulk of the Black Abbey loomed ahead. It was a low building with a short, square tower, its turrets barely discernible against the night sky. As we approached the stone wall that
surrounded
it, I grabbed the others, stopping them in their tracks.
‘There’s somebody there, look. See that van parked over there?’
‘Dude, let’s check out who it is. I’ve been
wondering whether Sligo would be here already,’ said Boges.
‘Me too,’ I admitted.
‘Me three,’ added Winter, gripping my arm tightly.
We pressed on, cautiously, trying to keep out of sight of anyone near the van.
The van had its headlights on, illuminating the door to a stone building, adjacent to the Black Abbey, that I had mistakenly thought was part of the abbey itself.
‘What are they doing?’ whispered Winter.
‘Looks like they’re unloading something,’ said Boges, close behind me, as we watched two people vanish through the doorway.
‘They’re unloading books,’ I said. ‘Setting up for tomorrow.’
I put my hand in my pocket and grabbed my torch. This was a piece of unexpected good luck. Maybe we could sneak in and get a preview.
The three of us hurried through the drizzle and over to the deserted van. Inside, it was empty. They must have only just unloaded the last of the boxes.
Silently, we sneaked inside the building,
following
the same path the people from the van had taken. The sound of footsteps and voices echoed from the other end of the corridor.
‘Quick! They’re coming back!’ I hissed.
I opened the nearest door and the three of us scrambled inside, closing the door again behind us. I pressed my ear up against it, listening for movement. I heard the movers pass by outside in the corridor, then they left, slamming the door behind them.
A few moments later, the van started up and drove away.
‘OK,’ I breathed, slowly turning the handle of the door and checking the corridor outside. ‘We’re alone now. Let’s see what we can find.’
The lights had been switched off but we used our torches to guide us. We hurried to the end of the dark corridor where a door on my left and a flight of stairs on my right formed a T-junction. Passing my torch to Boges, I tried the door. It wasn’t locked. I opened it and walked inside.
Ahead of us were three long trestle tables, each one covered with tablecloths and piled high with books for tomorrow’s sale.
My heart was like a drum, pounding as
excitement
mounted in me. Winter and Boges rushed to the books and started looking through them and I quickly followed. Somewhere in this collection, I hoped, was the book containing the missing last two lines of the Riddle. The answer to the mystery of the Ormond Singularity was at our fingertips.
‘OK dude,’ said Boges, ‘I’ll take this table, Winter’s on that one,’ he said, pointing to the furthest one. ‘You take the middle.’
The smell of musty old books in the freezing air filled my nose as I ran the torchlight over the spines and covers of the ancient books. Some were in Latin with old-fashioned marbled endpapers. Some were in Gaelic with faded gold lettering on their covers.
After about half an hour, I’d been through every book on my table.
‘I think I’m done, guys. Either of you have any luck?’
‘No,’ they both answered, their
disappointment
obvious in their tones.
I swore. It wasn’t here. What were we going to do now? What if Sligo already had it?
‘Quick, hide!’ I ordered the others, as voices interrupted the air.
We scrambled under the trestle table
furthest
from the door, huddling in the darkness, shielded, I hoped, by the tablecloth and other book-covered trestle tables. Someone was in the building with us.