Free Candleman by Glenn Dakin

as if committing everything to memory.
    ‘Err, Chloe … what do you call those things with wings?’ Theo asked.
    Chloe stopped in her tracks. She walked over to join Theo, who had now reached the far end of the chamber.
    ‘Do you mean the garghoul?’ she asked.
    ‘Well, there’s a statue of one here,’ Theo replied.
    Chloe rushed over and joined him at a thick concrete parapet that overlooked a bleak stone pit. Iron bars and a fine steel mesh partially blocked their view, but crouched in an alcove under the far wall was a grey, man-like figure, apparently made of stone. It had pointed horns curling up from its brow and a pair of bat-like wings folded behind its back. Its eyes were lost in shadow. A large hooked nose dominated its face, with a glimpse of a thin-lipped, expressionless mouth. Chloe gulped again.
    ‘You idiot!’ she breathed to Theo. ‘This isn’t a statue of a garghoul. It
is
a garghoul. It appears to be in its stone dream – a kind of trance they use instead of sleep. Mr Norrowmore told me about them.’
    She gazed in awed silence.
    ‘I’ve never seen one before. I suppose I never really believed …’ her voice trailed away.
    ‘Sam said one of them helped me in the escape,’ said Theo. ‘But I never saw anything. It all happened too fast.’
    ‘We have to get away and report this,’ Chloe said. ‘Lots of little things are adding up. Come on, let’s find your mythical hidden exit! Maybe the garghoul nips out the back way to go shopping.’
    Theo smiled. That was more like the Chloe he knew. But now they could hear the distant thunder of footsteps in the stairwell. Chloe pulled at Theo’s coat and they explored the far wall of the chamber. Theo’s heart sank. There was no doorway here, just a strange circular plaque set into the wall. Chloe stood frozen before it as if she had seen a ghost.
    In the corridor beyond the chamber, voices were echoing.
    ‘Well, I say it
is
possible!’ an angry voice shouted. ‘No one has yet seen them leave, so I say they could be down here!’
    Theo joined Chloe to peer closely at the plaque. In the centre of the circle, in jet on an ivory background was a queer representation of a black stream. ‘The sign of the River Styx! The way through the underworld,’ she said, her voice hushed with excitement. ‘This is the symbol they used to mark an entrance to the network!’
    She knocked lightly on the symbol,
tip-tap-tip,
and a thin circle of light appeared in the wall. The fine line of brightness widened, and a perfectly circular section of wall withdrew slowly backwards, allowing them entrance to a secret passage beyond.
    ‘It works!’ Chloe grinned. ‘We’re saved!’
    As they vanished through the doorway, a stone head turned slowly and a pair of wings flickered with life.

Chapter Ten
Lord Dove’s Kindness
    M r Nicely collapsed to his knees. He had tried not to scream at first, but after a while he had warmed to the idea. It gave him something to do rather than just wait for more pain.
    Remember, they aren’t torturing you,
Dr Saint had explained kindly.
They are simply doing their best with a rather experimental mind-reading machine. The agonising pain is a by-product of Lord Dove’s truth-seeking process.
    ‘I don’t know where she is!’ Mr Nicely cried, his voice becoming hoarse.
    Again the questions came, seeming to appear in the depths of his mind, and his brain felt like someone was pouring liquid fire into it.
    ‘No – Clarice and me were never close! I didn’t turn a blind eye to anything! I never wanted us to lose Theo!’
    Just speaking that name took Mr Nicely back to a better time. He had been happy then. He had enjoyed the pretence of everything being wonderful. He had realised at an early age, in one of the Society of Good Works’ orphanages, that life couldn’t really be nice, but you could pretend. And it was in the perfection of the pretence that you found your happiness.
    With Theo around, it had been nice to have