The Lost Lands: A Belladonna Johnson Adventure (Spellbinder Book 3) Read online

“It’s alright,” she said, gently. “Goodnight, Belladonna.”

  “Goodnight.”

  She walked upstairs slowly, changed, brushed her teeth, and walked to the window. The night sky was stormy and clouds roiled across it, hiding then revealing the moon. Belladonna winced and glanced down at her left wrist. The piece of Darkness that one of the Shadow People had left beneath her skin was moving, winding itself round and round, echoing the turbulence of the night clouds. It was usually still, but there were certain times when it moved like something living. Sometimes it was when the sky was stormy, like tonight, but other times it could be broad daylight without a cloud to be seen. It didn’t make any sense.

  She drew the curtains and clambered into bed. As she reached to turn out the light, she noticed that the piece of Darkness was still once more. She lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. What was it? It felt like a time bomb. She knew it was something bad, but she hadn’t been able to talk to anyone about it. Not Steve, not her mum and dad, and definitely not Miss Parker. She knew she should, but keeping it to herself made her feel that it hadn’t happened, that the creature of the Darkness hadn’t grabbed her wrist, that everything was alright.

  Only it wasn’t.

  2.

  Trouble

  Saturday dawned to leaden grey skies that soon began to disgorge a chilling rain. Belladonna looked out of the kitchen window and watched as it splatted on the patio.

  “Dad?”

  “Yes?”

  “Is that enough rain to make them cancel the football match?”

  Her dad floated over to the window.

  “That’s nothing,” he said. “If matches were stopped for fiddly amounts of rain, no one would be able to play anything.”

  “That’s what I thought,” said Belladonna, grimly.

  “If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to, you know. It’s not like you’re on the team.”

  “But Steve is. I’d better go. At least it’s at Dulworth’s and not all the way over at Arkbath.”

  She turned, walked out to the hall and shrugged on her coat.

  “Boots!” said her mother, emerging from the living room where she had been watching the omnibus edition of ‘Staunchly Springs.’ “And have you got your gloves?”

  Belladonna pulled one out of her pocket, by way of proof, then sat on the stairs and put on her wellies.

  “Right. Off you go, and have a nice time.”

  Belladonna thought that was unlikely, but she fastened her coat and stepped outside. As she did so, her hood flew up and onto her head. She spun around. Her mother was standing just inside the front door.

  “I don’t want you coming home looking like a drowned rat and then catching cold,” she said, smiling.

  Belladonna adjusted the hood, waved and set off for the school playing field.

  The rain was steady and cold. Belladonna shoved her hands in her pockets and hoped that the game would be called off.

  No such luck.

  The teams were already out on the pitch by the time she got there, and a small bedraggled crowd was clustered on either side of the field—Dulworth pupils and parents on one side, and Arkbath mums, dads, and students on the other. Belladonna hesitated near the groundskeeper’s shed.

  “Is that there your Paladin, Spellbinder?”

  Belladonna looked up. Argus was leaning against the open door jamb of the shed, his cap pulled well down to hide his multiple eyes. She nodded.

  “Well, you’d best get down there and hope he’s got the Rod of Gram somewhere handy. Asking for trouble, this kind of nonsense.”

  Belladonna hadn’t thought of it that way, but the old man had a point. She smiled and picked her way through the wet grass to the Dulworth sideline. The match wasn’t like the ones she’d seen on television, it was sort of all over the place, and only got worse once the pounding boots turned the already soggy pitch into an enormous mud puddle.

  When the whistle sounded for half time, most of the parents produced thermos flasks of hot tea and soup. The only thing laid on by the school was a table with bottles of juice and plastic cups. Steve got himself some orange juice and strolled over to Belladonna.

  “Thanks for coming,” he said, still a little breathless. “Pretty good, huh?”

  “Yes,” said Belladonna, encouragingly. “You’re really good.”

  Steve beamed, his eyes twinkling behind the mud splattered all over his face.

  “But…um…where’s the Rod of Gram?”

  “Here.”

  Steve glanced around then turned his back to her and lifted his shirt a little—the ruler was duct-taped to his back. He lowered his shirt and turned around again. Belladonna was speechless.

  “Duct-tape’s great,” he said, finishing off his juice. “You can do anything with it.”

  “But that’s going to really hurt when you take it off!”

  “Nah. Well…maybe. But it was all I could think of. Gotta go.”

  He tossed the cup into a nearby bin and trotted back onto the pitch.

  Belladonna shivered and pulled on her gloves, which she’d been trying to avoid doing as they were mittens and made her feel like she was seven. She glanced down the line of Dulworth supporters to see if anyone had noticed. They hadn’t, but she did see Lucy Fisher, standing between two people that Belladonna assumed were her parents. She smiled and tried to get Lucy’s attention, but she only succeeded in getting a steely glare from Mrs. Fisher, which was kind of weird.

  The second half of the match was even more chaotic than the first, with players skidding and falling in the slime-fest of mud. Then Dulworth suddenly came to life, got a corner and scored. Belladonna’s mouth dropped open. It was Steve! Steve had actually scored a goal in his very first under-15 game!

  Both teams trooped off after the final whistle, with everyone crowding around Steve to congratulate him. Belladonna smiled and headed back home for some hot chocolate and whatever her mum was making for lunch (which hopefully wasn’t going to include broccoli). One thing was sure, though—after scoring that goal, Steve would never attend Madame Huggins’s Ancient Sumerian class again.

  By Monday the rain had settled in to stay and the grey clouds made Belladonna feel like she was living in a world hovering between day and night. It seemed that everyone else was feeling the same way, because the class was preternaturally quiet. There was no whispering from the boys in the back, and no stifled giggles from Sophie Warren and her friends. Just the drone of Mr. Watson’s voice as he talked about the early Middle Ages, which seemed to have a tedious number of bishops doing things she was pretty sure bishops aren’t supposed to do.

  Behind her and a bit to the right, she heard Steve start to yawn loudly, then quickly stifle it, pretending it was a cough.

  Belladonna usually liked Mr. Watson’s history class, but today all she could do was stare out of the window as the raindrops slammed against it and trickled down to the cracked plaster at the base of the old window, which in turn leaked a tiny rivulet of water across the windowsill and down the wall, leaving a small but expanding puddle near Lucy Fisher’s desk.

  Lucy looked more miserable than usual. Her fluffy hair and hangdog expression reminded Belladonna of the White Queen in Through The Looking Glass. As if she, too, had lost her comb.

  “Johnson!”

  Belladonna snapped out of her reverie to find that Mrs. Jay, the school secretary, was standing next to Mr. Watson, her face a stern mask.

  “You’re to go with Mrs. Jay. Miss Parker wants to see you.”

  Belladonna stood up and glanced back at Steve, who shrugged, mystified.

  “Just…just me?” she asked.

  “Yes,” said Mrs. Jay. “Don’t just stand there like a clay statue, move!”

  Belladonna made her way to the front of the
class, as Sophie Warren and her friends tittered and whispered.

  Mrs. Jay led the way through the silent school halls and up the wide winding stair to the second landing and Miss Parker’s office. She rapped sharply on the door.

  Elsie suddenly materialized, looking concerned.

  “What’s going on?”

  Belladonna mouthed, “I don’t know.”

  The light next to the door lit up green for ‘come in,’ and Mrs. Jay pushed the door open and led Belladonna inside.

  “Belladonna Johnson.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Jay,” said Miss Parker in the clipped voice she always had when someone was in trouble. Only it wasn’t usually Belladonna. “Come in, Belladonna.”

  Belladonna entered the room slowly. Miss Parker was sitting at her desk, her hands clasped before her. She had the thin smile that she generally saved for parental visits, and sure enough a man and woman were sitting in the two chairs facing her.

  For a moment, Belladonna was mystified. She didn’t recognize either of them. But then a light dawned, and she realized the woman was the one with the steely glare at the football match—it was Lucy’s mother, Mrs. Fisher.

  “Belladonna, this is Mr. and Mrs. Fisher.”

  Belladonna smiled at them, but was met with faces lit with fury.

  “Do you know why they are here?”

  “No, Miss.”

  Mrs. Fisher made a sort of derisive huffing sound.

  “Well,” continued Miss Parker. “Apparently, Lucy has been having some treatment for a…problem. Do you understand now?”

  “I…um…I think so,” stammered Belladonna, letting her hair slip forward so that it almost concealed her face.

  “They tell me that you had a conversation with their daughter after school on Friday.”

  “Yes, she was crying and—”

  “Never mind that,” snapped Miss Parker. “Did you, or did you not, tell her that ghosts were real and that her mother and father and all the experts who have been treating Lucy’s…delusions were wrong?”

  “I…I may have.”

  “I see. And did you also tell her that seeing ghosts was normal and nothing to be worried about at all?”

  “Yes,” sighed Belladonna.

  “Wicked child!” hissed Mrs. Fisher.

  “I’m not…I didn’t mean…I was only trying to comfort her.”

  “Of course you were,” said Miss Parker. “I think we all know that you were doing what you thought best at the time. Isn’t that right?”

  Belladonna nodded her head.

  “My daughter’s treatment was going perfectly well until you came along, whispering nonsense into her ear! She’s a special girl, delicate. A hot-house plant,” said Mr. Fisher, in that weird voice that some people use when they want other people to think they’re posh.

  “But I—”

  “If you ask me, this girl should be in an institution!” growled Mrs. Fisher.

  “Now, now,” said Mrs. Parker. “Let’s not get carried away. I’m sure Belladonna is very sorry.”

  “Yes,” said Belladonna quietly, looking at the carpet.

  “I’d like you to apologize to Mr. and Mrs. Fisher and promise that you won’t say any such thing to Lucy again.”

  Belladonna glanced at Miss Parker, who just raised an expectant eyebrow. She turned to Lucy’s parents.

  “I’m very sorry that I said those things to Lucy, and I promise I won’t do it again.”

  “Very good. I trust that is satisfactory?”

  “Satisfactory?” gurgled Mrs. Fisher, her voice rising a whole octave. “An apology? What about punishment? This girl should be suspended at the very least!”

  “We don’t suspend students at Dulworth’s,” said Miss Parker, standing up. “We find that appealing to their conscience is generally more productive.”

  “Well, I never heard a—” began Mr. Fisher.

  “It’s been lovely seeing you again,” said Miss Parker, shepherding them to the door. “I’m only sorry it wasn’t under better circumstances. The next parent-teacher meeting is in two weeks, I look forward to seeing you then.”

  Before the Fishers even knew what had happened, they were out in the hall, with the door clicking shut behind them.

  Miss Parker turned around and looked at Belladonna.

  “They never come to the parent-teacher meetings. Such obnoxious people. You’d think after however-many thousands of years I’ve lived, I’d get used to the small-minded, but I never cease to be amazed that they can walk and speak at the same time.”

  Belladonna stared at her, her eyes like saucers.

  Miss Parker walked swiftly to her desk and sat down, clasping her hands in front of her again.

  “Now,” she said. “What on earth were you thinking?”

  “She was crying! And she could see Elsie! And Elsie spoke to me! And she was so sad, so I thought…”

  “You cannot go around telling all and sundry who you are, it’s not safe.”

  “I didn’t tell all and sundry! I just told Lucy. She can see ghosts. She really can.”

  “I’m sure she can, but you really aren’t helping her. You live with the ghosts of your parents, so it’s different for you. Most people have a period of…adjustment.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Never mind!” said Miss Parker brusquely. Let’s close the door on that little episode. There are more important things afoot.”

  “There are?”

  “Yes. I have located the Empress of the Dark Spaces.”

  “You have?”

  “Yes…well, roughly. She is most proficient at disguising her presence. But I know the general area, so it’s just a matter of time.”

  “Is she in London? Steve thought London, but I said probably New York. Because it’s a bigger city and because—”

  “No,” said Miss Parker, her face genuinely serious. “She’s not in London or New York, or Tokyo, or Moscow, or any of the places that would make sense, to be frank.”

  “Then…”

  “She’s here.”

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