The Road to Nevermore (8 page)

On any normal day (if there was such a thing in this odd boy’s life), Billy would have banged off a stout little jig. Second
to pirating, a ride on Fleggs was his favorite thing. Instead, Billy shouted and snapped the reins, “Come on Fleggs. Uncle
Grim wants you to take me to the Boneyard!”

Billy pulled the reins tight to his chest, leaned into the horse’s starry mane, and closed his eyes. He held on for dear life—Millicent’s
dear life.

For a jaw-dropping moment, there was silence at the Boneyard table. Then the skeletons reacted.

“Help you get to
Nevermore?
” Ned Lumbus blustered. “Pete, your brain’s a mile wide of its berth!”

Roger only stared, but his eyes were cold as cod scales as they took the measure of the old pirate.

“Look, Pete,” Ned said. “Most in the Afterlife have heard about the place, but no one knows where it is. I have grave doubts
it’s even on the Dark Side.”

Pete aimed his pipe stem at the burly skeleton. “It’s got to be.”

“But it’s not.” Roger Jolly slipped his legs off the table. His boots landed with two smart
whap
s. “If you like, I can tell you where it is, and who’s in charge.”

Ned looked at him like his brain was as fogbound as Pete’s.

“Thing is”— Roger hinged his fingers open and extended a palm toward Pete —“I need to see all hundred wishes before I say
another word.”

Pete dropped back in his chair, massaging his stubbly chin. His parrot, Jenkins, struck a matching pose. “My friend usually
arrives well before anyone’s ready to see him. I can’t imagine what’s keeping him.”

With a clatter of sparking hooves, Billy and Fleggs arrived outside the Boneyard. The whoosh from their entrance swung the
tavern sign. It was handpainted, depicting a graveyard with skeleton arms sticking out of its plots. They were holding beer
mugs, raised in a foamy toast.

Billy looked around as the sign creaked to a stop. The street was empty as a headless man’s hat and the Boneyard looked closed
for business. Not a light flickered inside.
Now what?

Billy swung off his saddle and dropped to the cobblestones. The resulting clatter led him to an important discovery. He held
up a bony hand, flexing his fingers.
I’m a skeleton again!

As Billy stood goggling, Fleggs nosed the boy’s pocket. After a few more luminous eye blinks, Billy took the hint. He pulled
out Grim’s note, noticing the unusual fold. Typically a note-writer folds the paper to conceal its contents. But his uncle
had written on the outside (a very un-noteworthy thing to do).

Billy shook the folds open and discovered someone else’s message inside:

Grim,

Aye, I’ll be happy to help ye with yer task. As ye might guess, I’d like nothing more than to clear me name.

Meet me at the Boneyard Tavern in Edgeton. Find Minnie Lumbus. I told her to expect an awesome powerful bloke. She’ll lead
ye to me. And don’t forget the bag of wishes. I’ll need every ounce of gold.

Thank Cecil Benders for me for takin’ this note to ye.

Hope surged in Billy as he checked over the note again.
Grim must have been on his way to the Boneyard to meet Gramps Pete! But what about the golden wishes?
And just as if Billy had spent a golden wish to find out, Fleggs turned to leave, jingling with every step.

“Hang on, Fleggs,” Billy called as he grabbed the horse’s halter.

After a quick clamber up to the saddlebags and an even quicker one down, Billy held a purple silk sack bound tight by a gold
drawstring. It was fat with golden wishes.

Fleggs nickered. It sounded like a soft chuckle. Then with more sparks and clatters, but significantly fewer jingles, Fleggs
shot through the fog and vanished.

Billy wondered where he could hide the gold and then remembered one of the great advantages of being a skeleton. An empty
ribcage is a wonderful place to stash your loot. Gold secured, he bounded toward the tavern door.

Hammer slammers! I hope this thing is open!
He whipped up the steps, flinging the door open.

“Young man. Most people know not to come messing about in the Boneyard.” Mrs. Lumbus cracked her large knuckles. She gave
Billy the once-over. “Don’t you have a pretty blue glow. Not very common for a skeleton.”

“I’m here to see my great-many-greats grandfather Pete.” Billy’s grin flashed at the idea of seeing the old pirate again.

All warmth drained from Mrs. Lumbus’s manner. She muttered, “He said to expect someone awesome powerful … Must be some kind
of a trick.”

“He’s here, isn’t he?”

“Nope. Not here.” Mrs. Lumbus crossed her sturdy arms.

“He has to be!” Billy’s jaw opened and closed as he struggled to think. How could he have failed Millicent so soon?

“I’m sorry to turn you out, young man, but you have no business being in here unaccompanied by an adult.” She herded him toward
the door. “I could lose my tavern license.”

Billy clutched her arm. “But … I’m … trying to help Uncle Grim.”

Mrs. Lumbus hesitated. “Grim Bones?”

Billy nodded.

“He
is
one who’s awesome powerful.” Mrs. Lumbus’s eyes rekindled their kindness. “Follow me.”

“Billy me boy, it’s good to see ye!” Pete boomed when Mrs. Lumbus and the young visitor entered the back room.

Billy leaped into Pete’s translucent arms and was rewarded with a wonderful squeeze. He wouldn’t have traded it for eleven
back-to-back birthday parties.

The skeletons fiddled with their pipes, watching the curious reunion as Mrs. Lumbus resumed her post, polishing mugs.

“I was expectin’ someone else in yer place. Where’s yer uncle?” Pete draped his arm around Billy’s shoulder.

Pete’s question reminded Billy there was no time to spare. He quickly explained the strange chain of events: the appearance
of Shadewick Gloom, Millicent’s kidnapping, and the loss of Grim’s head. He finished with, “We’ve got to save Millicent and
Uncle Grim from Shadewick Gloom!”

“Then that’s just what we’ll do, me boy.” Pete trumpeted in his most captain-ly voice. “We’re going after Shadewick Gloom!”

Jenkins pointed a pinfeather into the air and struck a heroic pose. “Awk! Get Gloom!”

“We’re going nowhere ’til you show us some gold,” Ned said.

Pete pressed closer to Billy. “Now, lad, I have to ask ye a rather delicate question. Much hangs in balance at yer answer.”

Billy reached inside his raincoat and rummaged in his ribcage. Yanking out the sack of wishes, he emptied it onto the table
and then smiled at the delight in Pete’s eye as the coins jingled into a heap.

“Clever lad.” Pete dragged up a nearby chair, making room for the boy at the table. Bathed in reflections of gold, the value
of the skeletons’ grins increased tenfold. Before they could sweep the coins into their pockets, Pete warned them, “The loot
stays here, tucked snug in Minnie’s lockbox ’til the job is done.”

Ned studied Pete through thoughtful eyes and then turned to Roger. “He’s right. There’s not much to gain by traipsing through
the Dark Side jingling like jimdandy. It’ll only draw attention.”

“What about the boy?” Ned grumbled. “Problem is he knows too much. We can’t leave him here, and we can’t take him with us.
He’ll whimper like a baby at all the vicious doings and horrible creatures.”

Billy jumped up. “I didn’t come here so you’d leave me behind.”

“He’s good in a tussle and sneaky as a tick. Not that ye’d guess it by his face.” Pete swelled his luminous chest. “He tangled
against the Investigative Branch’s finest and came out on top. I promise he won’t disappoint ye.”

Billy’s cheekbones burned with embarrassment as Ned and Roger studied him with new respect. Those were sizable shoes Pete
was describing. Billy wasn’t sure if he could fill one of them, let alone two.

Cecil Benders clacked down the marble floor, limping with the weight of his mail bag. He weaved to avoid the other skeletons
packing this section of Government Hall, then hobbled to a stop in front of an impressively large door.

A small brass plate read:
L
ORD
S
AGACIOUS
U
NDERHILL,
O
VERSECRETARY OF THE
H
ALL OF
R
ECEPTION AND THE
D
EPARTMENT OF
F
IBS AND
F
ABRICATIONS.

Once inside, Mr. Benders hurried toward a second large door. Behind it, muffled voices were raised in battle. The old courier
had to leap out of the way as the door unexpectedly flew open.

Miss Chippendale stomped out. “We shall see what the High Council thinks of your stubbornness, Underhill!” she lashed out
over her shoulder. “Grim Bones is not fit for duty, and I’ll prove it!”

An elderly skeleton with a high forehead and impressively large brow bones appeared at the doorway. His purple-trimmed robe
swished as he dipped a small bow. “Always a pleasure, Cornelia.”

Adjusting her gloves impatiently, Miss Chippendale nearly knocked Mr. Benders off his feet. She bustled by, nose high.

“Your pardon, miss.” Mr. Benders lifted his cap. “Nasty old cow,” he hissed under his breath.

Re-shouldering his courier bag, he shuffled up to Underhill.

The Oversecretary blinked pleasantly. “Cecil.”

He ushered Mr. Benders into his office and sat him on a marble bench. Rounding the desk, he tidied up a few documents, then
sat down opposite in a high-backed stone chair. “Is this an official visit? Or just one old friend brightening the day of
another?”

For a moment, Mr. Benders drifted back to the days they had served together in the skeleton cavalry—those were exciting times.

But the thought of danger shook Mr. Benders back to the present. “There’s a situation at the Department of Eternal Energy,
Sagacious. The generators are slowing down.”

Mr. Benders dug the message out of his bag and handed it over. Oversecretary Underhill tapped a bony finger on his chin as
he read it.