The Monsters of Rookhaven, стр. 21

‘Urg,’ she said.

‘Urg,’ said Mirabelle, and the laughter started all over again.

Mirabelle took Jem to the fifth floor to a room at the corner of the house. Jem’s legs were aching by the time they reached their destination. When Mirabelle opened the door, she flinched from the beams of sunlight that shone in through the holes in the roof. A large window had been boarded up. The ceiling had been torn away, and the bare rafters holding up this section of the roof could be seen. Some were soggy and soft-looking, presumably because of the rain that came in through the holes. There were about a dozen ravens arranged along some of the beams. Jem was surprised by how eerily quiet they were, as if they were watching them. The floor was covered in bird droppings and the occasional pool of water.

‘This is the Room of Knives,’ said Mirabelle.

‘Why is it called that?’ asked Jem.

Mirabelle stepped towards one of the beams of sunlight. She circled it with her palms held up as if warming them. She pirouetted gracefully round another sunbeam and tiptoed between two more. Jem’s heart thudded so hard as she watched this display that she could feel it pulsing in her mouth. She had to fight the urge to run across the room and grab Mirabelle. All she could think of was that scorched shadow outside the house. Gideon pressed himself in closer to Mirabelle’s neck, mewling nervously. Mirabelle shushed him.

‘Because on a day like today it’s filled with knives of sunlight,’ said Mirabelle. ‘One misstep and I could step in a sunbeam then poof.’ She splayed her fingers out like a magician demonstrating a disappearing trick. ‘No more me.’

‘Be careful,’ said Jem.

A raven flew down and Mirabelle instinctively put out her hand for it to land on it. ‘Quawk quawk,’ it said, right into her face, then it pivoted and stared at Jem with its one good eye. ‘Quawk,’ it said again, as if accusing her of something.

Mirabelle chuckled. ‘It’s all right – Jem is a friend.’

‘Quawk,’ said Gideon, raising his head in defiance, causing Mirabelle to smile.

The raven dipped its head up and down vigorously for a few moments then flew back up into the rafters, cawing at its companions and receiving muted caws in response as if they were all discussing the interloper.

As Mirabelle led her out of the room, Jem looked back up at the silent ravens in the rafters: the occasional flap here, a beak rubbing a wing there, but no other sound from them.

‘My mum always said it was bad luck to let a bird into a room.’

‘These birds have always been here, and we’ve never had any bad luck,’ said Mirabelle.

Even so, Jem couldn’t help looking up at them with a certain mistrust. They looked as if they were waiting for something, but she didn’t say this to Mirabelle for fear she might laugh at her.

Mirabelle brought Jem to a library next. There were four levels of shelves filled with dusty leather-bound books and when Jem opened some of them they were filled with runes from languages she’d never seen before.

They visited several more rooms, and soon it all became a blur for Jem. They took time for a snack in the now empty dining room. Mirabelle didn’t eat a thing, despite the spread in front of them. Gideon peered over her shoulder, looking at the food with slight distaste, but Jem ate a chicken sandwich while Mirabelle told her more about her family history. Jem listened with awe to stories so strange she could barely take them in. She was particularly intrigued when Mirabelle told her about the Ether.

‘But what is it, and how do you . . .’ She tried to think of the word. ‘Emerge from there?’

‘The lights in the Room of Lights are the way in. Like gateways. That’s how I came here. It’s where we’re all from,’ said Mirabelle. ‘Aunt Eliza tried to explain it to me once. She says no one knows exactly what the Ether is, but she likes to think of it as a place of souls, and the souls drift among each other, all of them waiting for their moment. And then when one is ready it crosses over into this world to become part of the Family.’

‘It’s like being born,’ said Jem.

Mirabelle frowned. ‘Yes, I suppose it is.’

‘And there are more places like this? Are they hidden by magic too?’

Mirabelle nodded.

Through a chink in a curtain, Jem could see the sun was sinking low in the sky. As they finally left the dining room, Jem felt that with each step she was lurching from one strange dream into another.

Gideon leaped from Mirabelle’s shoulders and then looked guiltily at her.

Mirabelle pointed a finger. ‘Remember now, Gideon, behave. No wandering off.’

Gideon squeaked at her, then suddenly vanished into thin air. Jem blinked in disbelief.

‘He found his talent quite quickly after he arrived in the house. He’s been practising,’ said Mirabelle.

There was the sound of something scampering away.

‘There he goes,’ said Mirabelle, coming to a stop.

They were standing at the entrance to the corridor that led down towards the larder.

‘It won’t hurt just to look, despite what Aunt Eliza and Uncle Bertram say,’ said Mirabelle.

‘So this is the way to down below?’ said Jem.

Mirabelle nodded.

That was when Jem heard it. A long, low moan, rising up from the dark. She took an instinctive step back.

‘Come on,’ said Mirabelle, looking completely unperturbed.

A slightly reluctant Jem followed her past the larder and into the dark. The floor sloped downwards, and the air had a moist earthy quality. The more they descended, the colder it got. Jem could feel the back of her neck tingling. Eventually they reached a long corridor gloomily lit by two dirty yellow bulbs set into wall sconces.

Mirabelle stopped before a huge iron door set into the wall. It looked completely out of place with its surroundings, and in the dim light Jem could make out dozens of strange figures in bas-relief