The Dark Portal (The Gryphon Chronicles, Book 3) (11 page)

Well
then. The Spell of a Hundred Souls had worked. But if
he
was all that he had left, then he had better get on about his own survival. With that thought, the dark fog that he was grew even darker.

He glanced around with an evil gaze and saw some of the local cemetery ghosts staring at him in alarm.

They didn’t know what to make of him. He wondered if it was possible for him to feed on ghosts as well.

They fled when he moved toward them, but on his way to chase them, he suddenly caught a whiff of something better on the air. A lovely, enticing aroma of one the most powerful magicks on earth.
I know that smell…

He forgot all about the ghosts and followed his nose (such as it was
in his spirit state), sniffing the air to guide him.

He came to a road and
saw a tall wrought-iron fence ahead, guarding a looming sort of castle on the opposite hill. The scent was getting stronger. He flew closer and read the sign:
The Harris Mine School
.

If he had still possessed a proper face, he would have smiled as understanding dawned. And if he’d had a belly, it w
ould have grumbled with hunger.

Dear little children!

He flew across the hills at top speed and floated through the brick wall of the school. Suddenly, he was in the upstairs dormitory, hovering near the ceiling, looking down on the feast before him.

A
ll the sleeping little innocents! That sickening smell was the goodness of children, and though personally, it nauseated him, he was well aware that nothing would restore him to his full power faster than drinking the elixir of their life-force.

Why, he would regenerate to his full wicked glory in mere days if he took his time resting and recuperating from the centuries here.

Here at this school, he could feed on the students as he pleased, stealing their life-force to restore his own. Children usually had too much energy anyway, he thought. No one would even notice, as long as he did not drain them to the point of death.

As for t
he brats themselves, when they awoke strangely tired in the morning, if they remembered any part of his attacks, they would think him nothing more than a dark dream.

And perhaps for now, that was all he was.

But not for long, Garnock vowed. And with that, he whooshed down from the ceiling to prey upon their bright, sparkly souls.

PART II

CHAPTER FIVE

The
Secret Archive

You didn’t have to be an empath like Isabelle to sense the grim mood that hung over the cottage that evening.

Dani O
’Dell could feel it, too, and no wonder.

Between
the dead tree goblins and the men who’d been eaten in the coalmine (by a bear or not-bear), their holiday had turned unexpectedly morbid.

E
veryone was worried, moping, cross. Red hadn’t even come back to the cottage, but had flown off to Waterfall Village to visit with the dwarves’ wives and children.

Clearly, the Gryph
on wanted no part of Jake quite yet.

Only Ted
dy seemed oblivious to the ominous atmosphere that had invaded their fun.

Glad for her dog’s cheerful company, Dani took
the little Norwich terrier outside to do his business. Wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the chill, she followed the speedy terrier down a garden path, where Teddy insisted on sniffing every blade of grass.

But when she heard low voices in the garden and spotted Derek and Helena flirting
in the moonlight beneath the grape arbor, she stifled a grin and tiptoed away. At least those two were getting along.

Of course, t
hey usually did. Too bad Guardians were not allowed to get married, and anyway, Miss Helena refused to accept any suitors after her twin brother, Henry, the boys’ tutor, had given up on winning the heart of the lady he liked. Poor, bookish Henry seemed to think the scientific Miss Astrid would never be able to accept him if she knew he could turn into a wolf at will.

That
was the reason Jake’s aunt, Lady Bradford, had hired the twins to mind the Bradford children. They were not just fine educators, but vicious protectors when their charges were in danger.

At any rate, the dejected shapeshifting tutor had gone off to some mathematics seminar at a university in Germany somewhere. He had to study hard to stay ahead of the boy genius.

Such troubles all these magic folk had, Dani mused as she waited for her dog. Sometimes she was oh-so-truly glad just to be a normal person. Somebody around here had to bring the common sense.

Retreating to a respectful distance—
though she was highly tempted to eavesdrop—she left Derek and Helena alone and minded her own business. It was a beautiful autumn night. She gazed up at the black sky full of twinkling silver stars and smiled at the memory of the dwarves’ Illuminium.

A
few minutes later, the jaunty little terrier came racing back to her, tail wagging, his bright eyes shining merrily, as if to say,
“What’s next?”

She
bent down to pet him—then suddenly had an idea of how to change the grim mood and cheer everyone up. “Come with me, Teddy!” She scooped him up into her arms. “I’m going to need your help.”

“Mr. Fingle,
I was wondering if you’d drive me into town—oh! Sorry to intrude.” Jake paused in the doorway of the kitchen, where the two house brownies, having served them dinner, were now having their own meal.

“No, no, it’s all right!” Snowdrop waved him
in, dabbing at her mouth with her napkin. “Please, come in, Lord Griffon.”

Nimbus did the same
and rose from his chair. “Right away, sir. Just let me hitch up the horses.”

“No, please, there’s no hurry,” Jake insisted. “I just
need to send a telegram to my Aunt Ramona. Do you know her? The Dowager Baroness Bradford.”

“
She visited here once,” Snowdrop said.

“Er,
I’m afraid the telegraph office is closed at this hour, my lord,” Nimbus said. “But I could go to the clerk’s house and ask him to return to his office if it’s urgent?”

“Oh,
no need. It’s not an emergency like that,” Jake said, waving off this suggestion. “I’ve just been wondering if the old spells protecting Plas-y-Fforest may need refreshing after all these years. I have no idea how to do that myself. She’ll know. She can send me back the instructions.”

“Not sure you ought to send that
sort of magic-related communiqué by telegram,” Archie said. Jake hadn’t heard his cousin wander up behind him, hands in pockets. He glanced over his shoulder as Archie shrugged. “Too bad you don’t have an Inkbug.”

“Oh, but we do
!” Snowdrop exclaimed. “Does Her Ladyship have one to receive the message?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect!” she said. “Then you can send it right away.”

Jake glanced back at Nimbus with a smile. “Never mind about
the carriage.”

Snowdrop was already in motion, sailing down the hallway out of the kitchen. “Come with me, gentlemen!”

“You can finish your supper!” Jake told her, hurrying after her.

“N
o, no, business before pleasure!” she replied. “This way!” Snowdrop led them into the cozy, oak-paneled sitting room and marched straight over to the fireplace. She climbed up onto a stool, then reached up to grasp a candle-sconce embedded in the wall above the thick timber mantel.

Jake furrowed his brow, wondering if she meant to light the candles
. Instead, she pulled the metal arm of the wall-mounted candelabra forward until they heard a click.

“Whoa,” Archie murmured
as a bookcase beside the fireplace swung open, revealing a hidden room beyond.

“We call it the Archive,” she said as Nimbu
s handed her down from the stool. “Thank you, dear.”

“
A mechanical trigger to open it?” Archie mused aloud as they walked over to the opening. “I’m surprised they didn’t use magic of some sort.”

“Not all the Evertons in His Lordship’s family line had magical powers,” Snowdrop said. “They
had to be able to get in here, too.”

Jake stepped through the opening into the secret room behind the bookcase. Archie followed a step behind.

Isabelle joined the boys a moment later, having come down from her bedchamber. “What are you two getting up to?” She looked around in surprise. “What is all this stuff?”

“The Archive,”
Jake said absently, staring all around him at the fascinating array of magical objects that cluttered the small room.

Wands, weapons,
shelves full of grimoires and spell-books. Great leather-bound tomes on all sorts of paranormal subjects. Isabelle rushed over to one whose spine was engraved with gold letters:
Veterinary Care for Unicorns
.

“I can’t believe you have a copy of this! It’s a classic,” she said.

“Then you’ll like this even better, Miss Bradford.” Snowdrop pointed out the pearl-white staff, like a tall, heavy walking stick, leaning against the wall. “I imagine you already have a Keeper’s Staff at home.”

She nodded with a smile.

“You’re welcome to use this one while you’re here, if you should need it.”

“Thank you.” Then
she happened to notice the odd brass or bronze gun-like thing her little brother was playing with. “Archie, what is that?”

“
No idea.” He squinted through his spectacles and fiddled with the round crank handle on the side.

Isabelle shook her head.
“I don’t think you should be touching that. Especially if you don’t know what it does.”

“Don’t worry,
sis, I’m a scientist,” he said, flashing a breezy grin.

“Actually, that’s the P
hantom Fetcher. For arresting poltergeists.” Snowdrop hurried over to him.

“
You’re joking.”

“
No, you hold it like this. May I?”

Archie handed it over, mystified.

Jake arched an eyebrow as the diminutive house brownie took the weapon in her hands sort of like a rifle—or more like one of those antique blunderbuss guns with the muzzle that flared out at the end like a bell.

Steadying the butt of the weapon under one arm, she cranked the brass handle on the side round and round. “Once you get this handle thing going, it builds up the electrical energy or what
’s-it-called, and once you hear—”

Bing!

“Ah! That means it’s ready to shoot,” she said.

“Shoot what?” Archie asked, folding his arms across his chest as he studied the Phantom Fetcher.

“It throws out some sort of energy field like a net made of, of ecto-what’s it called? Ecto-something.”

“
Ectoplasm?”

“
That’s it! Once you’ve got your problem spirit in the force field, you can put him in one of your Spirit Boxes. There’s a stack of them in the closet.”

“
Brilliant,” Archie said.

“Mind you don’t open any of them that’s already occupied!” Snowdrop warned as she handed the Phantom Fetcher back to him. “Lord only knows what might be in there.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jake and Archie said.

Meanwhile
, Isabelle was twirling the staff like she actually knew how to use it. Jake turned and stared at her. The ‘delicate young lady’ looked like she could take someone’s head off with that thing.

She smiled mysteriously at him and stopped swinging it, the demure soon-to-be debutante once more.

“Hm,” Jake murmured.

“Look at this. And this. And this!” Archie had moved on from the Phantom Fetcher and was examining still more
strange devices that cluttered the shelves.

There were
ancient articles of magic clothing. He held up a white vest that looked like it had been woven from spider webs. “Giant silkworm body armor! Practically impenetrable.”

“
This is like your ancestors’ old attic,” Isabelle remarked, looking around at everything. “All their old, magical junk.”

“Junk?” Archie echoed indignantly. “Look at this.” H
e unfurled a scrolled parchment map and pointed to the title at the top.

“Atlantis?” Jake cried.

“Junk,” Archie said with a snort, then he rolled it up again. “Mind if I borrow this?”

“Be my guest.”

There were colored candles with unknown mystical properties, and a mortar and pestle for crushing up magical cures.

The Inkbug
, however, lived in a wooden box on a table in the center of the room. Snowdrop leaned down and tapped gently on the lid.

A
few seconds later, the caterpillar-like insect trundled out and scurried to the center of the desk, where it waited at attention.