Read Online Bartimaeus: The Golem’s Eye by Jonathan Stroud - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jonathan Stroud
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road. A figure in black limped into view; it stood in the center of the gateway, looking into the park.
Jakob had seized the bat and was coming on again. “Hurry up!” she panted, as he fell in alongside. “There’s someone …” She gave up, hadn’t the breath to speak more.
“Almost there—” Jakob led the way past the edge of the lake, where flocks of wild fowl squawked and plumed out in fear across the water; under the shadows of the beech trees, and up a slight rise toward the metal bridge. “We’ll be safe … once we’re over … hide in the craters … aren’t far now …”
Kitty had a strong desire to look behind her; in her mind’s eye she saw the figure in black running after them across the grass. The image gave her a crawling sensation down the skin on her spine. But they were going too fast for it to catch them; it would be all right, they were going to get away.
Jakob ran up onto the bridge, Kitty following. Their feet pounded like jackhammers, sending up a hollow clatter and the hum of vibrating metal. Up to the top, down the other side …
Something stepped from nowhere onto the end of the bridge.
Jakob and Kitty both cried out. Their headlong rush came to an abrupt halt; they stopped dead, crashing hard against each other in their supreme, instinctive effort to avoid colliding with the thing.
It stood as tall as a man, and indeed carried itself as if this were so, standing upright on two long legs, with arms outstretched, and fingers clasping. But it was not a man; if anything, it looked more like a horribly distorted kind of monkey, oversized and very stretched. It had pale green fur across its body, except around its head and muzzle, where the fur grew dark green, almost black. The malevolent eyes were yellow. It cocked its head and smiled at them, flexing its tapering hands. A slender ribbed tail thrashed behind it like a whip, making the air sing.
For a brief moment, neither Jakob nor Kitty could speak or move. Then …
“Back, back, back!” This was Kitty; Jakob was dumbstruck, rooted to the spot. She grasped the collar of his shirt and pulled him, turning as she did so.
Hands in pockets, tie tucked neatly into a moleskin waistcoat, a gentleman in a black suit stood blocking the other exit from the bridge. He was not the slightest bit out of breath.
Kitty’s hand remained clawed in Jakob’s collar. She could not let him go. She faced one way, he the other. She felt his hand reach out and, scrabbling at the fabric of her T-shirt, clutch it fast. There was no sound but their terrified breathing and the swishing of the monster’s tail through the air. A crow passed overhead, cawing loudly. Kitty heard blood pounding in her ears.
The gentleman did not seem in a hurry to speak. He was fairly short, but stocky and of powerful build. His round face had, at its center, an uncommonly long, sharp nose and, even in those moments of abject terror, suggested to Kitty something of a sundial. The face seemed without expression.
Jakob was trembling at her side. Kitty knew he would not speak.
“Please sir—” she began hoarsely. “W-what do you want?”
There was a long pause; it appeared as if the gentleman was loath to address her. When he did, it was with terrifying softness. “Some years ago,” he said, “I purchased my Rolls-Royce at auction. It was in much need of repair, but even so, it cost me a considerable sum. Since then I have spent a great deal more on it, fitting new bodywork, tires, engine, and above all an original front windscreen of tinted crystal, to make my machine perhaps the finest example in London. Call it a hobby for me, a small diversion from my work. Only yesterday, after many months of searching, I located an original porcelain number-plate and affixed it to the bonnet. At last, my vehicle was complete. Today I took it out for a spin. What happens? I am attacked, from nowhere, by two commoners’ brats. You smash my windscreen, you make me lose
Jakob had seized the bat and was coming on again. “Hurry up!” she panted, as he fell in alongside. “There’s someone …” She gave up, hadn’t the breath to speak more.
“Almost there—” Jakob led the way past the edge of the lake, where flocks of wild fowl squawked and plumed out in fear across the water; under the shadows of the beech trees, and up a slight rise toward the metal bridge. “We’ll be safe … once we’re over … hide in the craters … aren’t far now …”
Kitty had a strong desire to look behind her; in her mind’s eye she saw the figure in black running after them across the grass. The image gave her a crawling sensation down the skin on her spine. But they were going too fast for it to catch them; it would be all right, they were going to get away.
Jakob ran up onto the bridge, Kitty following. Their feet pounded like jackhammers, sending up a hollow clatter and the hum of vibrating metal. Up to the top, down the other side …
Something stepped from nowhere onto the end of the bridge.
Jakob and Kitty both cried out. Their headlong rush came to an abrupt halt; they stopped dead, crashing hard against each other in their supreme, instinctive effort to avoid colliding with the thing.
It stood as tall as a man, and indeed carried itself as if this were so, standing upright on two long legs, with arms outstretched, and fingers clasping. But it was not a man; if anything, it looked more like a horribly distorted kind of monkey, oversized and very stretched. It had pale green fur across its body, except around its head and muzzle, where the fur grew dark green, almost black. The malevolent eyes were yellow. It cocked its head and smiled at them, flexing its tapering hands. A slender ribbed tail thrashed behind it like a whip, making the air sing.
For a brief moment, neither Jakob nor Kitty could speak or move. Then …
“Back, back, back!” This was Kitty; Jakob was dumbstruck, rooted to the spot. She grasped the collar of his shirt and pulled him, turning as she did so.
Hands in pockets, tie tucked neatly into a moleskin waistcoat, a gentleman in a black suit stood blocking the other exit from the bridge. He was not the slightest bit out of breath.
Kitty’s hand remained clawed in Jakob’s collar. She could not let him go. She faced one way, he the other. She felt his hand reach out and, scrabbling at the fabric of her T-shirt, clutch it fast. There was no sound but their terrified breathing and the swishing of the monster’s tail through the air. A crow passed overhead, cawing loudly. Kitty heard blood pounding in her ears.
The gentleman did not seem in a hurry to speak. He was fairly short, but stocky and of powerful build. His round face had, at its center, an uncommonly long, sharp nose and, even in those moments of abject terror, suggested to Kitty something of a sundial. The face seemed without expression.
Jakob was trembling at her side. Kitty knew he would not speak.
“Please sir—” she began hoarsely. “W-what do you want?”
There was a long pause; it appeared as if the gentleman was loath to address her. When he did, it was with terrifying softness. “Some years ago,” he said, “I purchased my Rolls-Royce at auction. It was in much need of repair, but even so, it cost me a considerable sum. Since then I have spent a great deal more on it, fitting new bodywork, tires, engine, and above all an original front windscreen of tinted crystal, to make my machine perhaps the finest example in London. Call it a hobby for me, a small diversion from my work. Only yesterday, after many months of searching, I located an original porcelain number-plate and affixed it to the bonnet. At last, my vehicle was complete. Today I took it out for a spin. What happens? I am attacked, from nowhere, by two commoners’ brats. You smash my windscreen, you make me lose
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