Cartwright was picking his nails with a piece of glass. He was in his bedroom, one long leg draped over the other, perched on a velvety chair in front of a dusty mirror. Sophie opened the door so hard it bounced off the wall, and although Cartwright didn’t jump, she saw that his fingers had slipped and there was a small drop of blood hanging from the end of his thumb.
When he realized who it was he grabbed the first thing that came to hand, a silver hairbrush, and held it up like a weapon.
“Put it down,” Sophie commanded. “Drop it!”
“Drop it? You psychotic, stabbing, scissor-wielding—”
“Shut up,” she said, and much to her surprise he did. She snatched the hairbrush from him and flung it across the room. Something smashed.
“I think you owe me an apology,” he said, folding his arms.
“You’re a liar, Cartwright. Everyone told me you were trouble, and I ignored them. But it was true all along. You’re a dirty, cheating, scummy liar.”
“What have I done?”
“The deal’s off. I’m not helping you find the box anymore. I wouldn’t help you if you paid me.”
“I have no idea,” he repeated, leaning away from her, infuriatingly calm, “what you’re talking about. Have the twins done something to you? Whatever they’ve said, they’ve done it to make you angry. Besides,” he added, “we have a deal. You need a ticket.”
“There are no tickets,” she said. “Happy? They were burned.”
“The twins burned them?”
“They got burned.”
Cartwright smirked.
“So you destroyed them. How did you manage to do that?”
“It’s not funny,” she hissed, and Cartwright scrambled up and backed against the wall as she marched right up to him. “I don’t know why you’re sniggering, because it means you can’t go to the New Continent either.”
“I’m not laughing,” he said, holding up his hands. “In fact—”
“Don’t change the subject!” The anger rose again, hot as a spill of lava. “The twins did say something to me, actually. And I know they were telling the truth, because suddenly it all makes sense.”
“Maybe you should sit down,” suggested Cartwright.
“Maybe you should be quiet and listen,” she said.
“Will you stab me if I don’t?”
“I swear to Neptune—”
Cartwright dodged her fists, which were raised to hit him.
“Fine! I’ll listen.”
She glared at him and sat on the bed, right next to the sword he kept hidden under the duvet. The sword she found for him. Cartwright, eyeing her like she was a wild animal, removed himself from the wall.
“People have been working here as Bone Snatchers ever since your uncle died,” she said. “They get sent over, Scree trains them, and then one day they disappear, leaving behind little notes telling your aunt that they’ve run away. It makes sense, because who would want to be here unless they had no choice?”
She glared at Cartwright until he nodded again.
“But something you forgot to mention,” she said, “is that every Bone Snatcher has been doing the same thing as me, looking for this Monster Box. Every time a new one comes to the island you conveniently appear and offer the same deal. A box for a ticket. And when they disappear without finding the box, you wait for another one to turn up.”
“All right,” said Cartwright. “You’re not the first. Maybe I should have mentioned that. It was a bit unfair of me, but—”
“There’s more,” she said, tightening her hands on the bedcovers. “I saw their running-away notes the day I came here. I knew there was something weird about them, but I was too naive or stupid to see the truth. They didn’t run away, Cartwright.”
“Of course they did,” said Cartwright. “They disappeared in the middle of the night, as soon as the tide was low.”
“The tide’s only low twice a year! I know you can storm over it on your mad horse, but what chance does anyone else have? There’s no boat and there’s a pack of monsters baying for blood. There’s no way dozens of people decided to casually stride across.”
“What are you trying to tell me?” said Cartwright. He had his arms folded, but there was a hint of panic that he couldn’t quite hide.
“The notes are fake!” she said, her voice rising uncontrollably. “The twins were pushing them into the sea! All those people are dead because of you, and you’re too stupid or immoral to stop it happening again!”
“I’m not immoral!”
“Did you ever read the notes?”
“My aunt had them all.”
“How convenient!”
“I would know,” he said, standing up. He took the piece of glass from the dresser and fiddled with it nervously. “Ralf and Gail are little monsters, but they’re not capable of killing anyone. Can you actually see them doing it? They play with their food, for crying out loud.”
“I think they’re worse than that,” she said. “I think they’re only pretending.”
“Pretending what?”
“To be idiots.”
She could see the color draining from his face.
“You’ve got to believe me,” he said. “I thought they went back to their homes. I still think that.”
“You’re not thinking hard enough.”
“I wouldn’t have asked for help if I thought anyone was going to get killed, Sophie.”
“Don’t try to be nice.”
“Just listen! Have I ever suggested you do something dangerous? You’re the one who went poking around the clock room. You’re the one who antagonizes the twins, and it’s you who stabbed me with a pair of scissors! You want to have an adventure, because it’s more of a life than sitting around and taking your pet poodle for walks or whatever you did at home. Admit it. You enjoy all the near-death experiences.”
“I didn’t have a pet poodle,” she snapped. “And stop trying to twist your way out of this.”
“If I didn’t care at all,” he plowed on, “would I have come after you in the night when you stole Manic? He came back to shore by himself. I could have left you there in the sea, and as you so eloquently put it, waited for another one to ‘turn up.’”
Sophie slowly released her grip on the bed. She wanted to believe him. He was as wriggly as a ferret, but for some reason she wanted to think he was a good person.
“Are you going to ask about the tickets?” she said.
“Do I want to know?”
“Ralf and Gail stole them. I managed to grab them and escape through a fire—yes, you heard that right—but they were completely destroyed. There’s no New Continent for either of us, just the same old world we’re used to, box or no box. I mean, really. Your sock drawer?”
“They’ve never done that before,” he said quietly.
“Once is enough,” she said. Scree’s pocket watch began to play a jolly tune, an old ditty about a drunken sailor, vibrating and clicking against her heart. She’d have to feed the monsters in fifteen minutes.
She bared her teeth at him, channeling her inner sea creature, and left.
* * *
The catacombs were bare, all the bones sucked to the bottom like they’d gone down a drain. The bits of smashed-up bone chair had disappeared. The creatures had already eaten them, boldly creeping into the caves and drawing them into the sea.
As the watch played its tune Sophie ran onto the beach and started shoveling stones into the water, but the monsters didn’t want stones today. They converged on the oyster racks, pulling the last spindly legs into the water and crunching the barnacle-crusted wood noisily. The tide was a long way out, like the sea was taking a huge breath. Another storm was on the way.
Sophie paced the shore. She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t get to the New Continent because the tickets were gone. The monsters were getting hungry, and she was running out of bones. And she felt stupid, really stupid, for not wondering what had happened to all the Bone Snatchers before.
Even Scree hadn’t said anything about it. That hurt most of all. He must have known all those people were disappearing under weird circumstances, but all he said was to be careful. She’d started to think of him as a friend, but she felt bitterly hurt, no matter how hard she tried not to think about it.
For the first time in a long while she felt tears pricking her eyes. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and swallowed. Crying was stupid and it didn’t achieve anything. But all the same, her eyes kept leaking.
She shoved her hands in her pockets and walked along the beach to distract herself, looking for scraps that she could toss to the monsters. She noticed a row of pearls by the shore. Curious, she edged closer. The monsters were too busy with their feast to bother with her. She picked the shining object up and dropped it with a yelp. Sitting by her feet was a row of false teeth, large and polished, a shining half grin. She would know those teeth anywhere.
There was a low gurgling from the sea, and an accusatory, pointing tentacle lashed out fast as a whip, grabbed the teeth, and dragged them under.
“Oh, Neptune,” she whispered to herself. But surely the sea monsters would never catch Scree—he was fast and wily, despite his aching bones. And he knew the monsters inside out. Maybe he’d dropped his teeth. She’d probably see him wandering around later, poking the shore with his grab-claw contraption.
She heard a low crunching behind her and spun around, expecting to see a crab chewing stones. Instead she came face-to-face with Cartwright. Gone was the tall stance and cocky smile. He looked . . . sorry.
“What?” she said rudely, trying to cover up the fact that she was disturbed.
“That’s a rubbish way to say ‘hello’ to someone,” he said. “If you weren’t so intent on being aggressive you’d have heard what I was trying to say earlier. About the tickets.”
“I don’t want to hear it,” she said. “I just want to be alone.”
“Have you been crying?”
“Do you want a broken foot?”
“You should try being nice sometime.”
“So I’ve been told,” she snapped. “Why are you out here?”
“To explain myself,” he said. “You owe it to me to listen, if only because you stuck those scissors in my arm. When they were chasing the ghost Ralf leaped on me from a chandelier and almost broke my back. Gail tried to chew my ear off! I’m serious.”
“What do you want to tell me?”
“A story.”
“Is it a true story?”
“As true as the rocks we’re standing on, but told with style and vim.”
“What’s the point?”
“To elicit your sympathy.”
“I don’t have any.”
“What if I told it anyway?”
“I don’t promise to listen.”
“I knew you’d say that,” he said, and sitting on a rock he began.