12

The next day, Billy lay on his bed in its nook in the wall, thinking. He was trying to come up with another escape plan and wondering if he was ever going to get back inside his house.

I could climb onto the roof and slide down inside the chimney, he thought, but then he had a vague memory that his dad had blocked the fireplace up last year.

OK, so maybe I could lift some of the roof tiles and jump down into the loft, he reasoned. That might work!

Suddenly Ace’s head appeared in the opening of the recess, interrupting his thoughts.

‘Fancy going scavenging?’ he asked, with a friendly grin. ‘We need some new pots and pans.’

‘Sure,’ said Billy. His brain had become clogged with ideas that didn’t go anywhere, and he was grateful for the chance to do something different.

‘Stick close to me, and keep a sharp lookout for any creatures,’ said Ace, handing Billy a scavenging sack.

‘Not crawlers again – I hate them things,’ he said, immediately starting to panic. These creeping little men had always haunted his nightmares, but now they were haunting him for real.

‘Don’t worry, Billy, you don’t get many in the fortress. Most of ’em are out patrolling the town,’ said Ace. Then his narrow, freckled face turned pale and he grimaced. ‘Anyway, it’s the were’ounds we really need to worry about!’ he said.

‘Werehounds!’ gasped Billy. ‘You mean there are more creatures out there?’

‘Loads, and they all have their job to do,’ said Ace. ‘The snufflers are like bloodhounds, tracking down escapees, and the collectors are the fortress gaolers. The crawlers patrol the town and the witches and warlocks do all the potion-making.’

‘And the werehounds? What do they do?’

‘Their speciality is ultra-violence. They’re the fortress’s special guards, and answer only to the Magician himself. They keep watch from the battlements, and if they catch a Runner they’ll rip them to shreds in a second. They’re my very worst nightmare, Billy. They make the crawlers seem like harmless little puppy dogs.’

With that cheery thought ringing in his ears, Billy followed Ace out of the lair and up into the fortress. He tried to memorize their route as they hurried along myriad gloomy lanes, but he soon become disorientated. The walls either side dripped with moisture and exuded a strong, bitter scent – it was the smell of fear and the whole fortress seemed steeped in it.

Eventually they came to a narrow courtyard, deep in shadow. Opposite stood the large, soot-blackened kitchen block.

‘Be extra-careful now,’ Ace warned, as they crept up to its heavy wooden door. ‘The kitchen is the witches’ special domain. If you’re caught you’ll end up as one of their ingredients!’

Billy blanched. ‘Seriously?’ he asked, his greying face turning ashen.

‘Seriously,’ said Ace solemnly. ‘They wouldn’t hesitate to chuck us in a blender and turn us into pâté. But don’t worry, the morning meals have already been served an’ the witches will be having their own breakfast by now.’

He eased open the kitchen door and slipped inside. A second later, he popped his head back out.

‘Yeah, all clear,’ he whispered.

Billy took a deep breath and nervously followed him in. A line of huge pots was bubbling and steaming away, and Billy recognized the smell of the intoxicating food he had eaten in the Bright Room. Even now it made him yearn to go back there.

On his left was a large blender, the inside coated with a thick grey paste, and Billy shuddered in horror. Surely that’s not a night-child turned to pâté, he thought, feeling bile rise to his throat as he hurried past.

Along the far wall, a line of shelves was filled with bottles of strange, brightly coloured liquids and powders. More shelves sagged under the weight of sauces and herbs and plates of ham, beef, cheese and bread. Billy’s head reeled with the wonderful aromas.

‘Awesome,’ he muttered, but Ace had scurried over to a door in the opposite wall. He put an ear to it, and then carefully and silently slid its heavy bolt closed.

‘Come an’ have a listen,’ Ace whispered, beckoning him over.

Billy tiptoed across to join him. He could hear muffled voices coming from the other side. He raised his eyebrows questioningly, and Ace put a hand around his ear and whispered.

‘It’s the witches,’ he said. ‘Want to check ’em out?’

‘Are you crazy?’ gasped Billy. ‘That’s asking for trouble.’

‘It’ll be OK,’ whispered Ace, and he began to climb a rickety staircase that led to another door, high up in the wall. ‘Follow me.’

‘You sure?’ asked Billy.

‘Yeah – nothing’ll distract the witches once they’ve got their snouts in the trough.’ Ace grinned.

So Billy reluctantly followed him up the stairs and through a door onto a wide landing. A terrible cackling noise filled the air and a dreadful smell stung his nostrils. He peered over the stone balustrade and looked down into a great hall. Two long rows of trestle tables ran down the centre of the room, and hunched over bowls of stew and grabbing at hunks of bread sat a gathering of dry, dusty, wrinkled witches and warlocks. They sounded like ravenous pigs at a trough, and the sight of them made Billy feel sick.

‘You’ll never guess what Drago told me,’ Billy heard a witch say amongst the confusion of voices. ‘That collector who let the night-child escape, they strung him up by his—’

Suddenly one of the hags smashed her fist onto the table. It was Morwella.

‘Sshhilensh! Can you shmell shomething?’ she cried. ‘The shtench of boy, perhapsh?’

Immediately, a hundred faces were lifted up and a hundred long twitching noses sniffed the air. Billy and Ace ducked below the banister and peered between the pillars.

‘I can smell something horrible,’ said one witch, and the noses twitched again. Then there was a long, loud rasping noise, and somebody gave a cry of dismay.

‘Phwar! It’s you, Snaggletooth. That’s disgusting!’

‘Pardon me, I’m sure,’ cackled Snaggletooth, an ancient, dumpy warlock who looked very pleased with himself, as amid a cacophony of complaints the others resumed their meal.

Ace tugged at Billy’s sleeve.

‘They’ll be ’ere for a while yet. Let’s get back to our scavenging,’ he whispered, and Billy followed him back into the steaming kitchen.

‘What do we need?’ asked Billy, taking out his scavenging sack.

‘Pans, spoons, knives and forks,’ Ace replied, opening a drawer and tipping its contents into his own sack.

Billy took a frying pan and a cheese grater from under a bench, but his gaze kept being drawn to the delicious food weighing down the shelves. ‘Can’t we take some of that back too?’ he asked as he started filling his sack.

‘Sure,’ Ace said and rolled a ladder on wheels along the shelves, and climbed right to the top. ‘Catch!’ he whispered, and started throwing down tins of peaches, evaporated milk and jars of pickle. Billy put those in his sack as well.

Cauldrons bubbled, ovens steamed and pipes hissed, and they were both so engrossed in their work they didn’t hear the door from the courtyard creak open.

‘Hey, Billy,’ said Ace with a chuckle. ‘What’s smelly, ugly and bouncy?’

‘I don’t know,’ replied Billy. ‘What is smelly, ugly and bouncy?’

‘A witch on a trampoline!’ said Ace.

‘Oh, very funny, I’m sure,’ said a high, rasping voice and they turned to see a short podgy witch standing in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips. She looked as angry as an agitated wasps’ nest. ‘You’re for the pot, you disgusting little squirts.’

‘RUN!’ cried Ace, and slid down the ladder as expertly as a fire fighter.

Billy scarpered, darting around cupboards and cookers as the witch tried to grab him, cackling all the while like a manic hyena.

‘Give up, you little blighters. I’ve got you cornered!’ she squealed in delight, but Billy feinted to the left, then right, and managed to weave past her.

‘Too slow!’ he cried, glancing back over his shoulder – and ran straight into a tall male witch blocking the exit. It was Jasper, the warlock with the warty nose, and he grabbed Billy by the ear.

‘I knew zat I would get you,’ he cried. He bent down and pushed his face close to Billy’s, staring at him with a bloodshot eye. Billy could smell his foul breath. ‘I’ll grind your bonezz to paste,’ he hissed, and dug his pointed, witchy fingernails into Billy’s earlobe.

‘Yeeow!’ Billy cried out in pain. Then he felt himself being lifted high into the air. He kicked and struggled, but the warlock was immensely strong and carried him over to the large blender. With a flick of his elbow, Jasper flipped up the lid and held Billy over the open cylinder. He could see the blender’s enormous blades at the bottom start to spin.

‘No!’ yelled Billy. ‘NO!’

From the corner of his eye he saw Ace lower his shoulder and charge at the first witch, hitting her hard in the tummy.

‘Oof!’ gasped the crone, doubling over and gasping for breath. Ace grabbed a trolley laden with crockery, and gave it an almighty shove. It clattered across the floor and caught Jasper with a powerful, glancing blow on his bony hip.

‘Arrgh!’ he yelled, letting go of Billy and clutching his side in pain.

Billy landed across the opening of the whining machine. The blades whirled beneath him and he felt himself start to slip, but with all his strength he managed to pull himself up and with a sideways roll he dropped to the floor.

Now there came the sound of hurrying footsteps from the room next door.

‘Scarper!’ yelled Ace. Billy didn’t need telling twice and bolted for the door.

‘Come back, you vermin,’ demanded the two witches, hobbling after them as a great pounding of fists erupted against the door to the witches’ dining room. There came a thump, then another, and a splintering of wood as the doors caved in and the rest of the witches streamed into the kitchen from the great hall.

‘COME BACK!’ they screeched, but Billy and Ace were already out of the room and running for their lives across the courtyard. The grisly gang of hags followed hot on their heels, screaming like banshees.

Suddenly, somewhere close by, Billy heard a high jarring howl and juddered with fear.

‘What’s that?’ he gasped.

‘Trouble,’ said Ace, and a look of sheer panic crossed his face. ‘It’s the were’ounds. If they get us, we’ll be mincemeat.’

Billy ran full pelt, not daring to look to the left or right as screeches and growls echoed all around them. The noise rebounded from walls, so you couldn’t tell where it was coming from. Billy was completely lost, but Ace seemed to know every dark alley, every shadowy short cut and deserted courtyard. Billy stuck to his heels, and soon he was squeezing along the secret tunnel that led to their lair.

‘We made it!’ he cried, as he staggered into the cave.

‘Yee-ha!’ crowed Ace, and the two boys burst out laughing with sheer relief.