Mister Monday. Гарт Никс

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СКАЧАТЬ read aloud. “The letters all moved around.”

      “Hi-tech,” said Ed, but he didn’t sound very convinced, or convincing.

      “Magic,” said Leaf, very matter of fact.

      “Open it up.” Arthur tried to open the book, but the covers wouldn’t budge. It wasn’t as if they were stuck together. He could see the pages rippling a bit between the covers like they were free, but he simply couldn’t open the book. Even when he applied so much force that he would have ripped the covers off any normal book.

      The sudden effort made him cough, and then it was hard to get his breath back. He could feel another asthma attack coming on, that sudden tightening of the lungs. The monitor that was checking the oxygen level in his blood began to beep, and there was the sudden sound of a nurse’s hurrying footsteps in the corridor outside.

      “Uh-oh, I guess that our set’s over,” said Leaf.

      “Did you see if the dog-faced men found anything?” Arthur wheezed hurriedly. “A piece of metal?”

      “Like what?”

      “The minute hand of a clock,” Arthur gasped out. “Silver, with gold inlay.”

      Ed and Leaf both shook their heads.

      “All right, visiting time is over,” said the nurse as she hurried over. “We can’t get Master Penhaligon overexcited.”

      Arthur grimaced at being called Master Penhaligon. Ed and Leaf mirrored his reaction and Leaf made a gagging sound.

      “OK, Arthur,” said the nurse, who was no fool. “Sorry about that. I was on the children’s ward all morning. Now get going, you two.”

      “We didn’t see anything like you mentioned,” Ed said. “And the dog-fay… the dogs were gone this morning. But the whole oval had been dug up and then the turf replaced. They did a good job; you couldn’t tell from a distance. I couldn’t believe they did it so quickly.”

      “The whole oval?” asked Arthur. That didn’t make sense. He’d buried the clock hand somewhere in the middle. Surely as soon as they found it they’d stop digging? Or were they just covering up what they were doing?

      “Out!” said the nurse. “I have to give Arthur an injection.”

      “All of it,” confirmed Leaf from the door. “We’ll come back and see you later!”

      “Tomorrow,” said the nurse firmly.

      Arthur waved goodbye, his mind racing. He hardly paid attention as the nurse instructed him to roll over, lifted his ridiculous hospital gown and swabbed the area she was about to inject.

      Mister Monday and Sneezer. Who could they possibly be? From what they’d said, the minute hand was part of some Key that Mister Monday had given to Arthur in the expectation that he would die. Then Monday would take it back. And the whole plan had been set up by Sneezer, but there was some double-cross involved. At the end, Sneezer was under the power of something else. Those glowing words. The same ones that had given him the notebook. The Compleat Atlas that he couldn’t open, so it didn’t really matter how “compleat” it was.

      Arthur had taken the minute hand – he would call it a Key, he decided – and he hadn’t died. So whatever it was, he felt as if he still owned it. Though the dog-faced men in the bowler hats probably worked for Mister Monday. If they’d dug up the whole oval, then they would have found the Key for sure and taken it back to him.

      Maybe that would be the end of the whole mystery, but Arthur didn’t think so. He felt a deep certainty that something was only just beginning. He’d been given the Key and the Atlas for a reason, and he would find out what it was. Everyone in his family said that he was too curious about everything. This was the biggest thing he’d ever encountered to be curious about.

      I’ll get the Key back, for starters, he thought fiercely, thrusting his hands under his pillow as the prick of the needle brought him back to the immediate reality.

      As he felt the injection going in, Arthur stretched out his fingers – and touched something cold and metallic. For an instant, he thought it was the bed frame. But the shape and feel were completely different. Then Arthur realised what it was.

      The minute hand. The Key. It definitely hadn’t been there only a few minutes before. Arthur always put his hands under the pillow when he lay down. Perhaps it materialised when Leaf handed him the Atlas? Like the magical objects in stories that followed their owners around?

      Only in the stories, most things like that were cursed, and you couldn’t get rid of them even if you wanted to…

      “Stay still,” commanded the nurse. “It’s not like you to flinch, Arthur.”

CHAPTER THREE

      Arthur went home on Friday afternoon, with the Key and the Atlas securely wrapped up in a shirt inside a plastic bag. For some reason Ed and Leaf never returned to the hospital. Arthur had thought of trying to call them, but since he didn’t know their last name, that had proved impossible. He’d even asked Nurse Thomas if she knew who they were. But she didn’t, and the hospital had got busier and busier through the week. Arthur figured that he’d see them Monday at school.

      His father picked him up and drove him home, humming a tune under his breath as they cruised through the streets. Arthur looked out idly, but his thoughts, as they had been the whole week, were on the Key, the Atlas and Mister Monday.

      They were almost home when Arthur saw something that snapped him straight out of his reverie. They were coming down the second-to-last hill before their street when he saw it. Down in the valley ahead, occupying a whole block, was an enormous, ancient-looking house. A huge building made of stone, odd-shaped bricks of different sizes, and ancient timbers of many kinds and colours. It looked as if it had been extended and added to without thought or care, using many different styles of architecture. It had arches, aqueducts and apses; bartizans, belfries and buttresses; chimneys, crenellations and cupolas; galleries and gargoyles; pillars and portcullises; terraces and turrets.

      It looked totally out of place, dropped into the middle of what was otherwise a modern suburb.

      There was a reason for that, Arthur knew.

      That huge, crazy-looking house had not been there when he left for school last Monday.

      “What is that?” he asked, pointing. “What?” asked Bob. He slowed down and peered through the windshield.

      “That place! It’s huge and it… it wasn’t there before!”

      “Where?” Bob scanned the houses he saw. “They all look pretty much the same to me. Sizewise, that is. That’s why we went a bit further out. I mean if you’re going to have a garden, you’ve got to have a real garden, right? Oh, you mean the one with the Jeep out front. I think they painted the garage door. That’s why it looks different.”

      Arthur nodded dumbly. It was clear that his father couldn’t see the enormous, castle-like building that they were driving towards. Bob could only see the houses that used to be there.

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