Pip and the Wood Witch Curse (8 page)

Pip was the opposite: much more laid back, but happy to tow along. In a short time Pip felt himself growing close to Toad. He had never had a brother or a sister and he soon began to enjoy the companionship that came with his newfound friend.

“We go at night,” said Toad. “I know it’s dangerous, but that’s when my father is busy. He won’t miss us.”

“I’m with you,” said Pip, biting his lip, and they shook hands as he drummed up the bravery from deep inside himself.

They said good night to Sam as they had become accustomed to doing. They took food and drink to the annex and left fluffed-up cushions in their beds so it looked like they were curled up asleep, in case Sam should check on them in the early hours. Then they put on warm clothes and crept into the cellar when they knew Sam was up to his eyes in customers.

Going down was easy to start with. There was a circular wooden drain cover in the cellar of the inn. Toad stood by the opening with the lid pulled back, inviting Pip to step down onto the ladder.

Pip disappeared into the abyss, bringing life to the depths with his torch. Toad followed him in, taking a last look around the cellar to make sure he hadn’t left any clues. He balanced the drain cover on his head, hatlike, and let it lower into place as he descended. The shaft of torchlight disappeared from the cellar.

The drains were deep and dark and long. The ceiling above was neatly vaulted and below the ladder was a short walkway. Cold drafts sent shivers through their bodies.

Just ahead was a length of rope attached to a loose fitting on the wall.

“Pull on it,” said Toad, “and keep on pulling.”

Pip tugged away and something heavy resisted at the other end.

“Keep going,” said Toad.

Eventually a small wooden boat appeared through the darkness. Two oars lay neatly inside.

Toad smiled. “It’s mine,” he said. “You didn’t think

I stayed up there all the time, did you?”

“Does your father know?”

“Of course. It’s my best chance of escape should the need arise. But he doesn’t know that sometimes I sail around the city when he’s not around. In the past, lost children have moved through the city this way.”

“What if
they
come down here, you know, the authorities or the forest things?” asked Pip.

“Neither the forest nor the city folk know that children move through these catacombs. If they did, this place would be swarming! Anyhow, the forest folk don’t like the water.”

“Maybe the Duprie girl is down here!” suggested Pip.

“I’ve already checked. I’ve spent hours on end searching. I’m sure she’s not. I don’t think it would suit her! Too dark and damp. You can’t last long down here without light.”

Without saying anything else they both climbed into the boat. Toad took control and steered the boat, showing his skill as an oarsman. The drains mirrored the streets, going this way and that in a brick-filled maze. Pip sat perched at the prow with the lamp held out, illuminating the oncoming darkness.

Toad was reeling out information. “Now we’re under the blacksmith’s. We’ve just passed the priory. There’s the overflow from the river. We take a right here.” Toad plowed down with one oar into the swirling black of the water.

Drips fell from above and the sound of their tiny landings echoed through the tunnels.

Out of the blue a question popped out of Pip’s mouth. “Where is your mother, Toad?” He didn’t mean to say it out loud, but it had been sitting there in his throat and then it lunged out.

Toad stopped rowing. The boat idled along under its own steam for a short way and Pip turned to look at his friend, casting the light across his face.

“She was taken when I was young. By the forest folk. Father never speaks of it. She died trying to protect me from them. I survived and she didn’t. I remember nothing!”

“I’m sorry,” said Pip. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I just …”

“It’s all right,” said Toad. “You were bound to ask at some point. I guess we’ve both had a hard time in our own way. Keep your eye up ahead, there’s a turn soon.” And nothing more was said.

Pip began to shiver. It was cold down here and the farther they went, the colder it seemed. He held the base of the lamp in his hands to warm them.

“Freezing, eh?” said Toad.

“Just a bit,” said Pip. He wanted it to look like he wasn’t bothered but he was shivering uncontrollably.

“Use this,” said Toad, throwing him a blanket from the bottom of the boat. Pip wrapped himself up, keeping his torch arm held out.

“We’re away from the buildings now,” said Toad. “Underneath the square. We have to get out soon. When we reach the ladder give me the nod and I’ll pull in.”

Pip looked into the dark. The way ahead was barred with a steel grille, allowing the water to carry on but without space for small boats or boys. To the left he saw a laddered shape emerge from the gloom.

“We’re here.”

They pulled in and tethered the boat to the wooden ladder, leaving the torch and the blanket behind.

Pip stood behind Toad and waited for the nod, his heart thumping inside his chest. To hear of forest creatures was one thing, but to see them for real was another thing entirely.

Toad’s head pushed the drain cover upward and his eyes peered into the darkness of the streets, still lined with snow.

CLUNK!

Before he could lift any farther the drain cover was bashed back into place, thumping his head.

“Ouch!”

Toad rubbed his head before taking a look. Jarvis’s carriage! Who else would be rumbling through the streets at this hour?

They would have to be extra careful.

When the carriage disappeared through the dark arches they emerged quickly, taking cover in the safety of the long shadow from the tallest buildings.

Something flew above, its shadow sweeping across the square. They stopped and Toad pulled them into another shadow in the recess of a church archway.

“Did you see that?”

“I saw
something
,” whispered Pip. “What was it?”

Toad pointed upward. Clinging to the side of a nearby tower was a black shape. What looked like a ragged bat wing was draped across the stone. A closer look revealed two spindly arms hooked into the brickwork.

“Is that what I think it is?” asked Pip.

“Witches,” murmured Toad.

Pip felt his stomach roll over. Nerves pulled at his body and a sickness stirred inside him.

“It won’t be alone,” hissed Toad, his eyes pinned above.

They watched and waited.

Soon the sky was peppered with black shapes. They moved quickly, darting and swooping in circles, searching through the air. Pip did not wish to see their faces or their gnarled and twisted hands, but they were close and their features became clear. Whooshing through the archways and gliding over the rooftops, they stopped here and there to cling to the buildings like bats. The boys shrank farther back, deep into the shadows.

“I’ve never seen so many,” whispered Toad. “They must have got word of something. Are you sure you weren’t seen when you arrived? They don’t come out of the forest in such numbers for no reason.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so! What do we do now?”

“Sit tight,” said Toad. “Something has alerted them. Frankie Duprie may have been seen.”

A rolling sound echoed over the stones. It was Jarvis, returning. He circled in the square, almost tipping the carriage over onto two wheels.

Then there was shouting and men appeared on horseback, gazing up at the flock. Tension filled the air. Something swooped down, drawing close to one of the riders. He swung his torch with his arm held high, hoping to singe the heels of the wood witch.

Then more came, spiraling down and sending the horses into a fluster, circling and braying.

Pip and Toad concealed themselves further, dropping back deeper into the darkness beneath the stone archway where the snow disappeared, and finding steps leading into some kind of vault. Complete darkness surrounded them and they held on to one another.

Compared to this, the boat ride had been a breeze. Pip got on all fours and felt his way around.

“What are you playing at?” whispered Toad.

“Give me a minute,” insisted Pip. “Here,” he said at last. It was another drain cover.

“Good thinking,” said Toad, patting him on the back. They disappeared downward.

“From here we should be able to reach the courtyard drains,” Toad continued. “But the walkway only goes so far.” The sound of his voice changed as they entered the catacombs. “We might have to get into the water!”

“I can swim,” said Pip. “How about you?”

“Pip, it’s freezing in there. You’ve no idea how cold it will be. But I guess we’ve no choice.”

And so they braved the frozen, stinking, slimy mess of the sewer, shivering manically as they went, with their heads bobbing in the water. They gasped as the cold numbed their bodies. Everything felt heavy, arms and legs like lead weights.

Getting out felt worse than getting in. Their clothes were heavy with the weight of the water and dragged as they pulled themselves up onto the ladder by the boat.

The lamp had gone out. It was blacker than black and they had to hold the oar against the side of the tunneled walls to feel their way. Every drip, every echo, every splash seemed louder than it did in the light. Were they going the right way? They could only hope. But Toad’s navigation of the tunnels could be trusted and though it took a good long while before they reached the opening to the cellar at the Deadman’s Hand, they eventually made it.

They were soaking, stinking, and frozen.

“So now you know what it feels like to escape from the witches,” said Toad, breathing heavily and rubbing himself to keep warm.

“I need my bed,” groaned Pip and they disappeared upward into the cellar, where Toad found rags to dry themselves and clothing from a hidden box.

Before long they were warm again and comfortable in their beds. And as silence fell, Pip thought back to his room in the orphanage. The warm bedtime drinks made by Mrs. Tulip, the dreadful bedtime tales read drunkenly by Mister Oakes. Somehow it seemed so much more appealing than it ever had before. He drifted off to sleep, dreaming fitfully of how on earth they were going to find the Duprie girl in the maze of Hangman’s Hollow.