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Whiskers was staring up at him from the palm of his hand. Gorrn meanwhile was busying himself with Ned’s sheets. Ned could only put his new-found helpfulness down to their change in surroundings; the odd creature was folding away his covers and stuffing them into a small drawer.
“Gorrn, they were fine where they were.”
“Gru?”
“The sheets, Gorrn … Oh, never mind, I’ll deal with them later. And, err, thank you.”
“Arr.”
Whiskers was still staring.
“Just like old times, eh? You, me and the shadow.”
The Debussy Mark Twelve bobbed its head in a “yes”.
Only it wasn’t anything like old times, not really. He had his mum and dad, and nothing was more important than knowing they were safe. But for how much longer would any of them stay safe? They’d searched for answers for months, and now this informant had seemingly given Benissimo a route, however slim, of undoing Barbarossa’s beast. Ned should have felt happy about it, but how did the Ringmaster even know the informant could be trusted? What if it was just a trick? A trap?
The Darkening King would be rising soon. George and Lucy were on some mission and Ned had been relegated to … well, sitting. And that was when he admitted what was really eating away at him. He placed Whiskers on the bare mattress and looked at his ring. No matter how many times he’d tried, it remained dormant, and for all Ned knew it would stay that way forever. Ned had gone back to being the boy he was before he’d found the Hidden.
Completely and utterly average.
If only he could talk to Lucy. She was bound to have some idea of what was ailing him. Maybe she was even suffering from the same problem? He sat with his two mute sidekicks, feeling in nearly every possible way both powerless and pointless.
But that was the thing about the Hidden, and most particularly about his friends at the Circus of Marvels: they didn’t care what Ned could do – they just cared that he was there.
It came as a pounding of feet, a gabbling of whispers and excitable banter. By the time they’d reached Ned’s door, they were in such a frenzy that Rocky, the Russian mountain troll, put his fist straight through it.
“NIED! Why for you hide in here?!”
They burst into his room in an avalanche of colour and noise.
“Ned, love, it’s you! All this drab grey we’ve bin putting up with … Just this mornin’ I was sayin’ to Rocky how we needed a bit of colour, and here you are!” warbled Abi the Beard, and proceeded to hug him so hard he thought his eyes might burst.
With them were Grandpa Tortellini and a good half or so of his seven grandchildren, all whooping out a “Hey! How-a ya doin’?” and the occasional satyr-horned bleat. Scurrying along the ground were the three emperors, Julius, Nero and Caligula. The thieving pixies were far less jubilant when they realised there was nothing to steal, and decided instead to make up for it by harassing Gorrn, who hid in Ned’s shadow with an “Unt”. Monsieur Couteau managed a less than sneery salute from the doorway before excusing himself, and was barged rather gruffly out of the way by Scraggs the cook, carrying a large tray of doughnuts that he’d baked especially.
“Extra jammy, Ned, just like you like ’em!” rumbled Scraggs, who, to Ned’s wonder and despite their new pristine surroundings, had still not taken the time to wash his chef’s apron.
Finally there was a welcome trumpeting and Ned’s eyes lit up as Alice the elephant, who was too large to get into the room, popped at least part of her loving and leathery face through the doorway.
“Hello, girl!” he grinned and got up to pat her trunk.
“Arrooo!”
Breathlessly they launched a verbal assault of questions, to which Ned really had very few answers – mostly because of the speed at which they came.
“How are your ma and pa?”
“What’s going on, on the outside?”
“You been eatin’ properly, sonny?”
“Nedolino, and de-a training, tell us – how you-a doin’?”
“Once you rested, you come with Rocky, da? I show you base, very big, very interesting.”
It was only when the fourth doughnut was shoved into his face that Ned realised why they were quite so happy to see him. His beloved old troupe, at least the ones that were here, had not been out of the confines of their Nest for months. Keeping the travelling kind cooped up for too long was like trying to bottle frogs and they were positively jumping out of their skins.
“You met the spider yet?” asked Abi.
“Mr Spider? Only briefly.”
“Me no like ‘googly’ eyes. He always stick nose in business and always with de rules, Nied, so many rules.”
“They’re a serious ol’ bunch these greys, Ned. Keen, mind you, keen to learn our ways – but ol’ goggle-eyes is about as much fun as a wet rock.”
Through all the banter and jam, the jeering and grins, Ned saw something else. The fate of the world was hanging in the balance, unimaginable evil poised to spring up from the ground and devour them all, but their eyes had never looked as clear or bright. Whatever the world was about to throw at them, the diminished Circus of Marvels would see it head-on and together.
Ned might well have lost his powers, but he had most certainly found his “point”.
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Not Entirely Ideal (#ulink_57516aa7-f587-5463-84db-902f897948dd)
ed wasn’t quite sure what time it was when Benissimo woke him, or why the man was whispering. He was, however, quite certain that he was tired.
“Bene?”
“Yes, pup. Rise and shine – we’ve got a mission.”
“What? I thought you said—”
“I have to say a lot of things when it comes to your parents, Ned. Most of all, I have to not tell them when I ask you to do something dangerous.”
Ned rubbed at his eyes. “What kind of dangerous?”
“The informant’s lead I told you about earlier – its location is not entirely ideal.”
Something of an alarm bell sounded between Ned’s still-waking ears. “And by ‘not entirely’ you mean …?”
“Russia, Siberia, Ned. It’s in the reservation.”
There was a low and rumbling “Unt” from beneath Ned’s bed, followed closely by a “Scree” and some incredibly fast blinking from his mouse.
Ned, thankfully, was able to pick his words more eloquently. “Barking dogs, Bene! Have you lost your marbles?!”
“If we intend to beat this creature, it’s the only way.”
Ned would have gone in an instant but for one glaring factor that the Ringmaster had not taken into account. “Bene, it’s not that I don’t want to help you. The Darkening King is rising because of me and Dad. It’s just that I don’t know how much use I’ll be.”
“It’s not because of you, Ned. And by the way, I know about your Engine – your parents told me everything, just before I drugged them.”
Ned’s ring finger buzzed and there was a slight shimmering in the air, before it fizzled away to nothing. Not even real anger could spark the thing, not any more.
“You did what?!”
“They’d never let you go, with or without them, and our best chance is to sneak in unseen. I can’t say that your loss of power isn’t an issue, Ned, but we really don’t have any choice.”
Another bell dinged behind Ned’s eyes. “And why is that?”
“The creature we are going to see will only help you, not me. Word has spread of your deeds, pup – it wants an audience with you specifically.”
Ned wasn’t entirely sure that he liked the sound of that, and he dreaded the answer before he’d even asked the question. “And this creature … is it a Demon?”
“Oh no, Ned. It’s far, far worse than that.”
“And I suppose you’re not going to tell me what, because you aren’t telling anyone anything?”
“That’s the size of it, pup, but know this: if we do this right, if we get in and out of there without getting caught, and get the information we need, we will have ourselves the key to ending, once and for all, my brother and this monster he wants to unleash.”
Ned sighed. “Not much choice then?”
“Is there ever?”
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Not Entirely Alone (#ulink_a39fb173-3f77-5b03-80dc-7d267500d5eb)
urriedly and quietly, Benissimo led Ned along the base’s labyrinth of corridors. Apart from the low hum of electric doors and devices, everything was silent.
“I don’t know why I’m doing this. I’m not even sure I’ve forgiven you yet,” started Ned.
Benissimo flinched, very slightly, before flitting back to his old bravado. “Oh, come on, pup, you think I’m brilliant.”
“No, no, I don’t.”
Annoyingly Ned did think Benissimo was brilliant, completely and utterly, but he wasn’t about to let him know.
“You’ll see – you Armstrongs always come round in the end,” grinned Benissimo, which was quite possibly the worst thing he could have said.
“Bene, Mum and Dad had every right to be furious. It’s going to take a lot to gain their trust again and this isn’t the best way to do it. You broke a lot of hearts when you disappeared, mine included.”
“I regret that more than you know.”
Ned stopped. “Then help me understand. This isn’t your personal fight, Bene. You had no right abandoning us like that, not after everything Mum and Dad have had to go through.”
“But it is personal, Ned – extremely. When there’s time I’ll explain, I promise.”
It was then that Ned remembered what Barbarossa had told him on the Daedalus. According to the butcher, it was not just any Demon but the Darkening King himself that had cursed the two brothers and given them their immortality. What Ned still didn’t understand was why. Was that what the Ringmaster meant? Either way, their mission came first. There would be time to talk when they returned. Ned had had the foresight not only to bring his trusty sidekicks but also the Tinker’s perometer. From the look on the Ringmaster’s face, there was little doubt that they would need it where they were going. Finally, at the end of one of the corridors, they came to a staging room lined with several mirrors. Great, thought Ned as Benissimo passed him his gear – a fur-lined coat, goggles and what looked like a small metal stick.
“One of the Tinker’s modifications to BBB tech. It’s a retractable Taser. It’ll give whatever we run into enough of a shock for you to get away. Just twist the top to activate it. And make sure you button up the coat properly – it’s still freezing where we’re going this time of year.”
“Dangerous and cold; Mum and Dad are going to kill me for this.”
“I should think they’ll try me first. If we’re lucky, I’ll get us home before they wake up.”
“If we’re lucky? Bene, are you sure this is a good idea?”
“Indeed, Mr B., are you sure?” said a voice from behind them.
They turned to see Mr Fox, dressed from head to toe in winter gear, sitting on a bench at the back of the room. Next to him was the bulbous-eyed Mr Spider, in his regular grey suit.
“Sneaking off in the dead of night without telling anyone? Well, it doesn’t exactly glow with team spirit, does it?”
“Where did you come from?!” spat Benissimo.
“Actually, we were just behind the door when you walked in. I thought it might be a good idea if I tagged along.”
“Mr Fox, you and I have done some great things in our short time together and I am very grateful to your organisation, but I think it might be better if you remained in the Nest.”
The wording was polite enough, the coiled whip unfurling in Benissimo’s hand far less so.
“Mr Spider, go and get some sleep,” said Mr Fox.
“Sir?” said the thin-limbed agent. “I’m fine, thank you, sir.”
Mr Fox’s eyes rolled very slightly but he remained completely calm. “You are many things, Mr Spider, none of which is ‘fine’.”
Mr Spider grinned thinly, before excusing himself.
“Mr Spider has taken it upon himself to follow me of late and I’m not sure that I enjoy it very much. Now trust me when I say this, Mr B – I reallydon’t want to come with you.”
Ned watched Benissimo’s whip closely. It was wavering to and fro and he was quite sure that it was almost ready to snap.
“You are a confoundingly difficult man to work with,” Mr Fox went on. “Hot-headed, obtuse and with no regard for protocol. I hope you’ll agree that I have tried to be accommodating. But here’s the thing: for this partnership to work, for this entire operation to work, I need some ‘certainties’. You can’t, it seems, be killed, and for that I am – ‘we’ are – relieved. You can, however, be captured and being that you’re the only one who knows ‘the plan’, well, if you’re captured then we lose. I am not going to demand you tell me everything, but I’m afraid I must insist on making sure you return.”
Mr Fox said all this with a calm, almost apologetic voice. He also seemed strangely certain that Benissimo would agree. The Ringmaster, however, got that stubborn look. His cheeks became flushed and his whip now rose threateningly between them.
“Mr Fox, I’m not sure that I like it when people ‘insist’.”
Mr Fox smiled, but remained seated and spoke into his wrist.
“Mr Badger, are you ready to wake Mum and Dad?”
“On your order, sir,” crackled back his wrist.
“You wouldn’t dare!” gasped Benissimo.
“Actually, it would be quite in character,” smiled Mr Fox.
