Chapter 9
There were few streetlamps near the long drive that led up to the Eagle Heights complex, and the estate itself was surprisingly dark.
No welcoming lanterns were visible on the outside of the main building; no path lighting illuminated the way between the outbuildings.
Only a faint orange glow from behind curtained windows in the large main house indicated that anyone was around at all.
To avoid repeating the morning’s unpleasant brush with brickwork, Katherine had landed them on the road a respectful distance from the main sign marking the boundary of the property. The group stood there in silence a moment, letting their eyes adjust to the gloom.
“Ugh, is it me,” Mrs. Chrysler said, breaking the stillness, “or does this place smell even worse than this morning?”
She’s not wrong, Mr. Scruffles said.
“Maybe the wind’s coming from a”—Katherine coughed—“less favorable direction.”
Ruben snorted and coughed inelegantly in the darkness, and Katherine was glad she couldn’t see him very well.
“All right,” said Mrs. Chrysler. “Less waiting, more action. Let’s get a move on.”
The cats trotted on ahead, Ember touching off small fires as she moved over the greasy ground—Katherine stamped them out as she followed—and soon they were rounding the imposing main archway through which they’d broken in, and broken out, just hours ago.
Narrow gravel walks branched outward from the rear of the building, each leading to one of the smaller hovels spread out nearby.
Katherine surveyed their options, and none seemed more profitable than another.
All of the windows were dark. None seemed particularly inviting.
Ruben was audibly shifting his weight on the gravel, his feet and his cane crunching uneasily in the pebbles, spoiling her concentration.
“Hush,” Mrs. Chrysler said.
“Gravel is loud, Mrs. C., and it’s getting stuck in my sandals.”
“I don’t care. Hush.”
Not even the moon provided any help to guide the way.
It had not yet risen, but a faint glow on the horizon suggested that it was thinking about it.
Katherine decided to wait. Presently, the massive orange orb crested the shallow hills in the distance and dangled petulantly over the stinking plains, before zipping higher, away from the stench.
At the moon’s appearance, a pallid blue light began spilling out from under the doorways of a few of the outbuildings, and Katherine noticed that their slanted roofs were variously aligned with the arcs of sun and moon across the sky, with multiple, small windows interspersed among the shingles. Skylights.
She selected one of the buildings at random and pointed.
“That way,” she whispered, and her companions agreed without argument.
Despite the noisy substrate, they scuttled along, meeting no one, and pulled up at the entrance of the squat shabby house.
Mrs. Chrysler tried peeking in the windows, but it was no use.
“They’re not proper windows, Katty!” she whispered hoarsely. “Look!” With a knuckle, she rapped on the clapboard that was pretending to be a windowpane, complete with painted curtains and sashes.
“It’s a rather good effect from far off,” Ruben said.
“Well, that’s not suspicious at all,” said Katherine, wrangling the lockpicks on her wrist. She could swear that the blue light cascading from under the doorframe was brighter now, and she squinted hard to see if there were any shadows of people moving inside.
The cats were sniffing keenly at the stoop and she had to gently nudge them aside to gain access to the door handle. She tested it gingerly, but to her surprise it turned obligingly in her hand.
“And it’s unlocked too?” Mrs. Chrysler marveled quietly.
“Hmmm, not sure what to make of that.” Katherine looked about them for any signs of life, then braced herself. “I’m going to open it. You ready?”
“Do it, Katty.”
“Stand back, everyone.” With a flourish, she whipped the door open toward her, and a fresh gust of far-from-fresh air blasted them in the face with a stench like rotten eggs and ignited at Ember’s feet.
“Close it! Close it! Close it!”
Katherine threw all of her weight against the door, then stamped out the flames with her sturdy boots.
“What in the world was that?” Ruben patted down the front of his battle poncho, now singed at the fringes.
“I don’t know,” Katherine said. “Imogene, did you get a look inside?”
“Not much of one. Couldn’t see far, but it looked empty to me, Katty.”
“Empty?” Katherine mulled this over. “Let’s try again,” she said, “but just a crack this time.”
“Fine.”
“Mind if I wait over here?” Ruben said, indicating with his cane a stone bench a short distance away. He was already shambling over to it.
“Not at all,” Mrs. Chrysler said. “And take the fire-starter with you.”
“Ember, dear,” Katherine added in a kinder tone, “would you mind looking after Ruben for us?”
Yes, yes, of course. The dragony feline trotted quickly over to the bench and alighted on the seat, leaving plenty of room for Ruben to sink onto it with a huff.
“I know it’s not your fault,” he said, giving her a friendly stroke. “But honestly.”
“What about the other two?” Mrs. Chrysler asked.
“They can do what they like,” Katherine said. Tilly was hunkered around the corner of the hut as only a purple tail, but Mr. Scruffles was still sniffing curiously around near their feet.
That smelled pretty nasty, Mr. Scruffles said.
Yes, Tilly said, becoming visible again. But familiar, in a way. She gingerly advanced from her hiding place. What is it?
I’m not sure.
“All right, Imogene. Let’s try this again.” Katherine put a hand on the knob.
“Just a crack, now.”
“Just a crack. Here goes.” Gingerly, she turned the handle and drew it toward herself, feeling just the slightest pressure now as the air inside expressed a bit less enthusiasm to get out.
“That’s enough,” Mrs. Chrysler directed. “Yup, same as before, Katty. I see absolutely nothing. There’s nothing on the walls, nothing on the floors. Just a weird blue glow.”
“But where is it coming from?” Katherine craned her neck to look through the crack too.
Moonlight was streaming in from the ceiling, but the orange light it cast couldn’t explain the strange blue color.
The entire floor, quite bare, seemed bathed in it, and she noticed that where the moonshine touched the floor from the skylights, there alighted parallel puddles of brighter sapphire, like tiny blue throw rugs of light.
In the middle of them all, in the center of the single room—for that was what it was—appeared to be a deeper darkness, suggesting some lightless abyss.
“I’m going to open a bit wider, Imogene.”
“Be my guest. I’m getting out of the way.” She shuffled behind Katherine as the entrance creaked wider. The air slouched out in a more unhurried but malodorous way.
Mr. Scruffles sauntered into the room, his poofy tail bobbing eagerly. I’ve just got to know what this scent is, he said. I know it somehow… He began to investigate the room.
With each step, he stomped out the light of the blue glow in a perfect paw-print shape, but it slowly returned, gradually erasing each stride, dimly at first and then more brightly as he moved farther away.
“Glowbugs,” Mrs. Chrysler breathed. “That’s what’s making the blue light, Katty.”
Bugs? Mr. Scruffles sniffed his own paws, but found none.
“You know. Bye-oh-loomin-whatsits. We’ve seen them before.”
“Oh, yes, bioluminescent… whatsits,” Katherine said, the memory slowly returning of a bygone job that had led them deep into a cavern by the shore. She nodded appreciatively. “The light from a bioluminescent creature is cool to the touch. No heat.”
“A safer type of shine in a place like this,” Mrs. Chrysler said, casting another glance at the small dragon on the bench, who was stifling a smoky burp. “But why is it all over the floor?”
“Probably to mark where it’s safe to step. Look.” Katherine pointed now to Mr. Scruffles, who was clearly peering over the side of a rough-hewn hole. He was swatting experimentally in the darkness, bathed in the soft blue light of the floor around him. Then he leapt, and was gone.
“Mr. Scruffles!”
A beat passed in silence. Then:
Hey, it smells even worse down here! the cat called excitedly.
What a thrilling discovery, Tilly said, craning her neck around the doorway.
Mr. Scruffles emerged again as if ascending a ramp, and Katherine drew up the courage to retrieve him. “Stop that now,” she scolded half-heartedly, scooping him up into her arms. Then, as she peered down into the hole from which he’d emerged, her mouth fell open. “Imogene, come here.”
“What? What is it?”
“It’s a tunnel.”
“What’s going on in there?” Ruben asked uncertainly from his bench.
Katherine poked her head around the door, released the struggling Mr. Scruffles back to the ground, and stage-whispered, “There’s a tunnel, Ruben, and it’s lit by more and more of these bioluminescent creatures.”
“A tunnel?”
“Yes. A tunnel.”
“A tunnel to where?” Ruben was drawing the scarf more tightly around himself and over his nose, inadvertently shifting Mouser. “Sorry there, kitty.” Mouser popped his claws out and buried them in the fabric to get a better grip.
Mrs. Chrysler presently joined Katherine at the doorway. “That’s what we have to find out, Ruben,” she said. “We can’t tell from here.”
“Well, all right.” He shakily put his weight on the cane, which had trouble finding purchase in the loose gravel, and attempted several times to lift himself from the bench before finally getting his feet under him. Katherine frowned at the sight and shot her friend a concerned look.
“Uh, come to think of it, Ruben,” Mrs. Chrysler said, “this grade looks a bit steep. Maybe you could, uh”—she jerked her chin in the direction of his cane—“keep a bit of a lookout for us and… use the time to pick the rocks out of your sandals…”
Ruben slumped back down onto the bench with a gratified sigh. “Will do, Mrs. C.”