Abarat 2: Days of Magic, Nights of War. Clive Barker

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СКАЧАТЬ her with a forlorn expression. The zethek was still dangerous, she knew. Still hungry. Could she possibly make an ally out of him? After all, they both wanted the same thing right now, didn’t they? To be out of this place. He out of reach of the Scattamuns, she out of reach of Houlihan. Could they perhaps do together what they could not do apart?

      It was worth a try.

      Wrenching herself free from Mrs. Scattamun, she reached around the side of the cage and hauled the heavy iron bolt open. Methis didn’t seem to understand what she’d done, because he didn’t move, but the horrendous Mrs. Scattamun understood perfectly well.

      “You wretched girl!” she seethed, catching hold of Candy again and shaking her violently. In so doing she knocked Candy against the cage, and the unbolted door swung open.

      Methis looked lazily over his shoulder.

      “Move!” Candy said to him.

      Mrs. Scattamun was still shaking her and calling for her husband while she did so.

      “Mr. Scattamun! Fetch your whip! Quickly, Mr. Scattamun! The new freak is escaping!”

      “Hold the girl!” Houlihan yelled to Mrs. Scattamun. “Hold her!”

      But Candy had had quite enough of being shaken, thank you. She gave the Scattamun woman a good elbow in the ribs. She expelled a sour breath and let go of Candy. Then she stumbled backward. The Criss-Cross Man was directly in her path. The woman fell against him—much to his irritation—blocking his route to his intended victim.

      Candy quickly reached through the bars and gave Methis a nudge, telling him again to move. This time he seemed to understand. He pushed the cage door open and quickly slipped out. Before he could get out of reach, Candy threw herself forward and caught hold of one of his front limbs, pulling herself toward him. As she did so, she glanced back to see an irritated Houlihan knocking off Mrs. Scattamun’s hat as he scrambled to his feet. The hat smashed as it hit the ground. The stink of formaldehyde sharpened the air. Mrs. Scattamun let out a keening sound.

      “My chitterbee!” she shrieked. “Neville, this man’s broken my chitterbee!”

      Her husband was in no mood for consolations. He had picked up his freak-taming whip and now raised it, preparing to strike out at Candy. Methis spread his wings with a swooping sound. Then he ran down the passageway between the cages, flapping his wings, with Candy still hanging on to him.

      “Fly!” she yelled to the zethek. “Or he’ll have you back in the cage! Go on, Methis! FLY!”

      Then she pulled herself onto Methis’ back and held on for dear life.

      Candy heard Scattamun’s whip crack. His aim was good. She felt a sting of pain around her wrist and glanced down to see that the whip was wrapped around her wrist and hand three or four times. It hurt like crazy, but more than that, it made her mad. How dare this man take a whip to her? She glanced back over her shoulder.

      “You…you…freak!” she yelled at him. She caught hold of the whip in her hand, and by sheer luck at the same moment Methis’ wing beats carried them both up into the air. The whip was jerked out of Scattamun’s grip.

      “Oh, you stupid, stupid man!” Mrs. Scattamun shouted, and caught hold of the trailing handle of the whip, while Candy unwrapped the other end from her wrist. As Candy and Methis rose into the air, Mrs. Scattamun stumbled after them between the cages, unwilling to let the whip go. After a few steps one of the freaks casually put his foot out and tripped her up. She fell heavily, and Candy let the whip drop on top of the sprawled figure. She was still shrieking at her husband, her curses getting more elaborate by the syllable.

      Since there was no roof on the Scattamun’s empire of malformations, Candy and Methis were able to rise freely in a widening spiral until they were maybe fifty feet above the island. The scene below was becoming more chaotic by the moment. The three escapees from the backstage area had by now come into the freak show and were going among the cages, opening them up with their teeth and fingers, even their agile tails.

      It was very satisfying for Candy to watch the escalating pandemonium as the members of Scattamun’s bestiary threw open their cages and escaped, repeatedly knocking their sometime captors over in their haste to be at liberty. From her elevated position Candy was able to see how news of the escape was spreading through the crowd out on the boardwalk. Children were gathered into the arms of fretful parents as the shout went up: “The freaks are out! The freaks are out!”

      As they continued to ascend, Candy heard a strange noise coming out of Methis and thought for a moment that he was sick. But the noise he was making, strange as it may have sounded, was simply laughter.

      Malingo, meanwhile, had taken refuge behind Larval Lil’s Beer and Sweet Potato stand, where he had kept out of sight for a while, until he was certain that there was no danger of being apprehended by the Criss-Cross Man. He had persuaded one of the cooks to bring him a mug of red ale and a slice of pilgrim’s pie, and he was sitting among the garbage cans happily washing the pie down with ale when he heard somebody nearby talking excitedly about a girl he’d just seen, flying overhead in the grip of some monster or other.

      That’s my Candy, he thought, and finishing off the last of the pilgrim’s pie, he scanned the glowing clouds. It didn’t take more than a minute or two for him to locate his lady. She was hanging on to the back of the zethek as they flew north. He was very happy, of course, to see that she hadn’t fallen victim to Houlihan (whose whereabouts he’d long since given up on), but watching his friend get smaller and smaller as Methis bore her away toward twilight made him fearful. He hadn’t been alone in this world since he’d escaped from Wolfswinkel’s house. He’d always had Candy at his side. Now he would have to go and look for her on his own. It was not a happy prospect.

      He watched the girl and her winged mount steadily eroded by the gentle gloom of dusk. And then she was gone, and there were just a few stars, glittering fitfully in the sky low over Scoriae.

      “Take care, lady,” he said to her softly. “Don’t worry. Wherever you are…I’ll find you.”

       PART TWO THINGS NEGLECTED, THINGS FORGOTTEN

       The Hour! The Hour! Upon the Hour!

       The Munkee spits and thickets cower,

       And what has become of the Old Man’s power

       But tears and trepidation?

       The Hour! The Hour! Upon the Hour!

       Mother’s mad and the milk’s gone sour,

       But yesterday I found a flower

       That sang Annunciation.

       And when the Hours become Day,

       And all the Days have passed away,

       Will we not see—yes, you and me—

       How sweet and bright the light will be

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