13 Treasures Page 5

  “Good riddance too,” the bus driver muttered as they pulled away, leaving the antiques dealer behind.

  “I think I must have had too much sun,” Fabian said, shaking his head. “I could’ve sworn… no, never mind.”

  “No, what?” Tanya asked.

  “Just as he got up, I thought I saw his watch ticking backward,” Fabian said with a laugh. “Stupid, I know. Anyway, he was far too pushy. The compass must be worth something after all—and probably a fair bit more than he was offering.”

  He paused and scooped something up off the floor with a crow of delight. “Look! Silly old fool must have dropped this when he was flashing his cash!” He presented Tanya with a crisp twenty-pound note. “It must have come loose when he pulled that wad out of his pocket. Here, you have it. Buy yourself a new watch.”

  “I can’t take that,” said Tanya. “It’s stealing… sort of.”

  Fabian rolled his eyes. “As if. You’re never going to see him again, so it’s not like you can return it. Give it to charity if it makes you feel that bad. Or give it to me. I’ll spend it. But I reckon it serves him right. I doubt he’ll even miss it.”

  Tanya slipped it in her pocket, not knowing what else to do.

  By the time they reached their stop the color had started to return to Tanya’s cheeks. As they walked down the lane toward the manor she realized that for the first time, she was actually looking forward to getting back to her grandmother’s house. However, when they reached it ten minutes later, there was a shock in store.

  Warwick’s Land Rover was parked in the courtyard, the trailer at the back stacked high with books. Tanya knew in an instant that he had begun clearing out the library without her, and it appeared that most of the job was already done. She raced inside, leaving Fabian behind. The library door was open, and Warwick was standing at the writing desk with his back to the door.

  “Why didn’t you wait for me? I said I’d help!”

  Warwick glanced over his shoulder and shrugged. “I thought I’d get a head start.”

  He turned away from her again and continued to pack a large box. Tanya glanced around. Of all the books that had been in the library the day before, less than half of them remained. It was clear Warwick’s “head start” meant he must have begun clearing the room the moment she had left the house. She moved aside as he strode past her, carrying books out to the trailer.

  “What are you going to do with them, anyway?” she asked, unable to keep the anger out of her voice.

  Warwick grunted over his shoulder, not even bothering to stop. “Charity shop.”

  Tanya surveyed the rows of remaining books. None of the titles there looked as if they would be of any use to her.

  “What’s going on?”

  She turned and scowled. Fabian had appeared behind her.

  “Your father has decided to get rid of every book in the house, that’s what’s going on!”

  Fabian blinked. “What for?”

  Tanya did not answer. Instead she left the library and ran upstairs: there was no point in staying to help now. On the way past the grandfather clock she heard the lodgers tittering, and forced herself to refrain from kicking it.

  Once in her room she threw herself down on the bed, gasping as something dug painfully into the top of her leg. It was only then she remembered the compass. She pulled it from her pocket and stared at it dubiously. In addition to the needle not working, Tanya saw that instead of an “N” for north, there was an “H” where it should have been. She frowned, wondering what it stood for. And, as she slowly pushed the compass out of sight beneath her pillow, she wondered why the strange old woman had given it to her.

  6

  On Wednesday morning Tanya was awakened from a deep sleep by the sound of somebody shouting. She peered out from beneath the bedclothes toward the window, where the badly hung curtains were allowing several rays of light through. The clock on the dressing table read six o’clock.

  The shouting continued. It was Amos, Warwick’s father, calling him from his room on the second floor. The old man ranted on, getting louder by the minute.

  “Warwick? Where are you? I want my breakfast! It’s late! You’re always late, boy!”

  Heavy footsteps thundered up to the second floor as Warwick went to tend to the old man. For the last few years nobody except him and Tanya’s grandmother had had any contact with Amos at all.

  The old man was now a recluse; not even Fabian was allowed near him. Warwick single-handedly waited on him night and day, and if he happened to be out when his father called for him, Amos would shout incessantly until his strength was spent.

  A door slammed from above and the shouting stopped. Tanya lay staring at the cracked, stained ceiling, knowing it would be useless to try to go back to sleep. Eventually she got up, then washed and dressed carefully in a pair of jeans, sandals, and a bright red T-shirt.

  Breakfast was a somber affair of few words. Tanya stirred her coffee repeatedly, gazing into her cup in a daydream, while Fabian pushed a lightly nibbled piece of toast around his plate, still sleepy-eyed and not attempting to make conversation with anyone.

  “Warwick tells me you were a little upset yesterday, Tanya,” said her grandmother, taking a sip of tea. She never ate in the morning, although she insisted that everyone was present at the breakfast table, something that grated on Tanya immensely.

  “I wasn’t upset,” said Tanya. “I just wanted to… help… or something.”

  “I see,” said Florence, evidently not fooled for a second.

  “I thought Warwick was just going to clean the room,” said Tanya. “I didn’t know he was going to get rid of all those books.” She cast an accusing look in Warwick’s direction, but he remained unperturbed.

  “Actually, it was my idea to give the books away,” her grandmother replied. “Nobody has bothered to read them in years.”

  “I would have read them!” said Tanya.

  “I apologize,” said Florence, not sounding sorry in the slightest. “If I’d known then I would have kept them.” She paused, finishing the last of her tea. “I can’t ask the shop for them back now, though. They would think it most uncharitable.”

  Tanya did not trust herself to speak. Her grandmother’s haughty performance was really starting to get on her nerves. She was wholeheartedly glad when breakfast was over, and raced up to her room.

  As she made her bed, the compass that the gypsy woman had given her slid from behind her pillow and dropped to the floor with a clang. Tanya transferred it to the hiding place under the floorboard, then reached within the folds of the scarlet blanket at the foot of the bed to retrieve the book from the library. She pulled it free and hugged it to her chest, thankful she had rescued it from Warwick. Right now, all she wanted to do was get out of the house and away from everybody.

  She whistled to Oberon, who was waiting patiently at the foot of the stairs. Together they left the house through the back, heading out into the wildly overgrown garden. At the very rear, just to one side of the gate, there was a neglected rock garden with weeds and untamed shrubs spilling over the rocks. Today it seemed even more run-down than usual.

  Then Tanya noticed something. Standing on the rock garden were three of the ugliest, most realistic-looking garden gnomes she had ever seen. She frowned. It was out of character for her grandmother to bother with extravagances such as garden ornaments. One of the gnomes took a step in her direction. Tanya jumped.

  They were real.

  Oberon yelped and hid behind her legs. Curiously, the creature did not seem to be looking at her. Instead, it was watching Oberon with a hungry look that made Tanya feel decidedly nervous.

  “Are you… are you goblins?” she asked carefully.

  The goblin—or whatever it was—shook itself and regarded her as if it had only just noticed her—but did not answer. Tanya realized then that it hadn’t initially seen her; her red T-shirt must have acted as a camouflage until she had spoken to it, forcing it to notice her.
She could have kicked herself for her own stupidity.

  The creature continued to stare at her, its eyes still in its fat, toadlike face. It stood just above knee height, and judging by the size of its teeth could probably give a vicious bite. Tanya eyed the other two. One was stooped over badly, having to crane its neck at an angle just to view her properly. The third hung back. He was the smallest, and would probably have had a pleasant face had he not been covered from head to foot with ugly bruises. Some were yellow and green, obviously old, and there were newer, fresher ones of blue and purple. The black eye he was sporting was evidently one of the latter. It was he who spoke first.

  “Pray do tell… what have we here? A mortal child who shows no fear?” he said, in a singsong voice that was deep and strange.

  “This is one born of second sight, aware of us by day and night,” said the hunchback.

  Tanya took a step backward. The strange little men were beginning to scare her. They were dressed curiously, wearing jackets and trousers fashioned from a combination of human castoffs: curtains, blankets, and old tea towels. In places there seemed to be holes that had been darned with leaves. Tanya’s sharp eyes caught the neat, glistening stitches. It looked like something very close to spider’s thread. Their feet were bare, filthy, and scarred.

  “Are you goblins?” she repeated, but still they would not acknowledge that she had spoken. She thought quickly. “If I put my words to rhyme, will you answer me this time?”

  For a moment she did not think it had had any effect, but then the toadfaced creature responded.

  “ ’Tis not for mortals to question the fey. With our own kind our secrets stay.”

  Tanya racked her brains, struggling for another question. Usually she was quite good at making up poems, but trying to think of them instantly for use in a conversation was far more difficult.

  “I ask again, I’d like to know, are you goblins, yes or no?” she said after a couple of minutes had elapsed. She was unable to think of anything else, especially anything that rhymed with the word “goblin.”

  “Ask away! I cannot say! The answer lies with us today!” sang Toadface, and the other two creatures guffawed, dancing to the rhythm of his words.

  Not to be outdone, Tanya pondered for a moment.

  “I’m tired of playing your silly game. I’ll never bother you again.”

  She made to move past them, but the hunchback blocked her path.

  “This is no game, as you will see. We do not trust mortals easily.”

  Tanya retrieved a notebook from her pocket and scribbled some words down, trying to make sentences rhyme.

  “Fairies lie and fairies steal, but humans think and humans feel,” she began, looking in her notebook again. “I do not think what you say is just. In fairies I do not place my trust.”

  The creatures stared at her, seemingly taken aback that she was able to keep up with them. The one with the bruises stepped forward.

  “You ask too much, we cannot tell. We goblins hide our secrets well.”

  “I see,” said Tanya. “So you are goblins!”

  The goblin looked stricken the moment he realized his error. His companions turned on him, their eyes wild with anger.

  “Foolish cretin! Stupid fool!” said Toadface. “Trust you to break that simple rule!”

  “Forgive me, it was not my intention to make this accidental mention!” said the culprit, trying to back away, but there was nowhere for him to go; he had backed up against the garden wall.

  “Spare us your whines, half-breed. A good hard kicking’s what you need!” The hunchback grabbed the bruised goblin’s arms and pinned them behind his back.

  The goblin howled as Toadface drove a heavy fist into his stomach.

  Tanya flinched. “Stop it!”

  But Toadface did not stop—and Tanya did not know how to make him. She watched, helpless as he delivered blow upon blow on his poor companion.

  When Toadface had finished, panting and sweating from the exertion, the bruised goblin was left weeping in a heap on the ground. He had sustained several cuts to his face and was bleeding profusely, his lower lip split and swollen. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, mingling with the blood congealing in his beard.

  “You brutes!” said Tanya, as the goblin’s sobs gradually subsided into whimpers. Setting her book down on the rock garden, she pulled a crumpled tissue from her pocket and knelt down in front of him. He shrank back in fear.

  “There’s no cause for alarm. I don’t mean any harm,” she said, reaching for his bloodied face. He allowed her to dab at his cuts but continued to whimper softly.

  Tanya handed the crimson-stained tissue to the goblin. It was quite clear now where the other bruises had come from. She stood up and turned to face the other two goblins.

  “Touch him again and my dog will bite. And then we’ll see how well you fight.”

  Oberon gave a timely growl, but remained hidden behind her all the same.

  “Brunswick is not worth defending, his stupidity is never-ending,” said the hunchback.

  Toadface scowled. Tanya watched, waiting for him to attack the hunchback for letting the name slip, but he didn’t, and she knew then that though he was the leader, he was also the kind of coward who chose the easy target. He saw her eyeing him disgustedly and grinned.

  “You may be smiling smugly now, but you’ll get what you deserve somehow,” said Tanya, the words popping into her head from out of nowhere.

  Toadface stopped smiling, and there was a horrible hawking noise in his throat. He spat in Tanya’s direction, the yellow-green phlegm missing her by only inches.

  “You’ve said quite enough today. Now leave us and be on your way.”

  Tanya looked into his hateful face and decided to leave. She picked up her book and flung the wooden gate open, sidestepping the goblins, and headed onward toward the forest. She had taken only a few steps when a hesitant voice called after her.

  “The color red protects you here, but in the woods there’s more to fear.”

  Tanya spun around. Brunswick hovered just inside the gate, still holding the bloodied tissue to his face.

  “What do you mean? Is it something you’ve seen?” she called, but the hunchback forced Brunswick back into the garden and slammed the gate shut. She stood unmoving for a moment, but knew it would be pointless going back to question them. The warning had probably already cost Brunswick dearly.

  The morning dew glistened as Tanya kicked through the grass, the wetness seeping through her sandals and onto her toes. She settled beside a hazel thicket, listening to the trickling of the brook close by. Oberon flopped down beside her, panting heavily, and she fondly scratched his head.

  From the depths of the woods a gunshot sounded. She looked up and knew it to be Warwick out hunting. More shots followed, fading farther into the distance. Behind her an animal rustled in the hedge. Oberon’s ears twitched. He ambled over to the little stream and lapped at the crystal-clear water.

  Tanya yawned and stretched, then opened the book. Remembering what she had read before, she went straight to the index, then frowned. What should have been a coherent list of contents and their corresponding page numbers was now a meaningless mass of words and figures, none of it making any sense. With increasing anxiety she thumbed through the book. Every page was the same: full of jumbled text.

  The entire contents of the fat volume—with its invaluable information on fairies—had been completely scrambled. With a groan of despair, Tanya recalled placing the book down for those brief moments when she had tended to Brunswick. The hunchback must have tampered with it while she was preoccupied.

  The book was useless.

  A twig snapped crisply in the bushes, and she started.

  “Hello?” she called.

  Silence.

  Tanya shook herself mentally. It must have been some wild animal, a deer perhaps. There was another snap, nearer now, followed by a rustle. Oberon sniffed the air, his ears pricking up.

&n
bsp; A rabbit shot out from the bushes, darting right under the dog’s twitching nose, then through the shallow part of the brook. Oberon barked delightedly, then took chase, dashing through the stream and into the forest.

  Tanya sprang to her feet, still clutching the book in distress.

  “Oberon! Get back here!”

  But Oberon had no intention of returning, not until he had caught the rabbit at least. Then someone stumbled out from the bushes, startling her a second time.

  “You!”

  A sheepish Fabian brushed grass and leaves from his hair and clothes, his normally pale face flooded pink.

  “Why are you spying on me?” yelled Tanya.

  “I wasn’t spying. I was looking for, er… butterflies and things.”

  “Is this what you call observation? You were watching me!” With an angry yell, Tanya flung the useless book to the ground. Fabian watched her, an eyebrow raised.

  In the distance, another gunshot sounded. She looked toward the forest in alarm, giving Fabian one last glare before stalking in the direction of the trees.

  “Surely you’re not going in there?” he said.

  “Thanks to you I don’t have a choice,” said Tanya, her temper rising further. “My dog is in there—and so is Warwick—with a gun!” She quickened her pace, leaving a stunned Fabian behind.

  “Thanks to me? What did I do?”

  Tanya turned back and rounded on him.

  “I’ll tell you what you did. You were so busy spying on me that you startled a rabbit in the hedge, and now Oberon has chased it into the forest!”

  “Well… he didn’t have to chase it,” said Fabian, but then his voice trailed off. For a moment he looked as if he were struggling to make a decision, then he began to jog after her.

  “I’m coming with you. But if Warwick finds out we’ve been in these woods—”

  “You’ll have a lot more than Warwick to worry about if anything happens to my dog! I’ll… I’ll…”

  She broke off as tears began to sting her eyes.

  “We’ll find him,” said Fabian. “Warwick wouldn’t shoot him, anyway.”