Read Online Necropolis by Anthony Horowitz - Free Book Online

had visions of Father Gregory flying in, dragging her back to her cell. She was sure the nightmare was about to begin all over again. But the policeman was just standing there, scratching his head. There was no monastery on the other side of the door, no monks —just an alleyway, a brick wall, a line of trash cans. It was drizzling — gray, London weather. Scarlett looked past him. She couldn't quite believe what she was seeing.
    And that was when she knew that she was going to have to start lying. How could she explain where she had been and what had really happened to her? Magic doors? Psycho monks in Ukraine? People would think she was mad. Worse than that, they might decide that the whole thing had been a schoolgirl prank.
    She would be expelled from St. Genevieve's. Her father would kill her. She had to come up with an answer that made sense.
    The next forty-eight hours were a nightmare almost as bad as the one she had left behind. More policemen and paramedics arrived, and suddenly the church was crowded with people all asking questions and arguing amongst themselves. Scarlett didn't seem to be hurt, but even so, she was wrapped in a blanket and whisked off to the hospital. Somehow, the press had already found out that she was back. The street was jammed with photographers and journalists threatening to mob her as she was bundled into the ambulance, and there were more of them waiting when she was helped out on the other side. All Scarlett could do was keep her head down, ignore the flashes of the cameras, and wish that the whole thing would be over soon.
    Mrs. Murdoch was called to the hospital and stayed with Scarlett as she was examined by a doctor and a nurse. The housekeeper looked shell-shocked. It was obvious that nothing like this had ever happened to her before. The doctor took Scarlett's pulse and heart rate and then asked her to strip down to her underwear.
    "Where did you get these?" He had noted a series of scratches running down her back.
    "I don't know…" Scarlett guessed that she had been hurt in her final confrontation with Father Gregory, but she wasn't going to talk about that now. She was pretending that she was too dazed to explain anything.
    "How about this, Scarlett?" The nurse had found blood on her school jersey. "Is this your blood?"
    "I don't think so."
    The jersey was placed in a bag to be handed over to the police for forensic examination. It occurred to Scarlett that they would be unable to find a match for it…not unless their database extended all the way to Ukraine.
    Finally, Scarlett was allowed to take a shower and was given new clothes to wear. Two policewomen had arrived to interview her. Mrs. Murdoch stayed with her, and just for once Scarlett was glad to have'
    her around. She wouldn't have wanted to go through all this on her own.
    "Do you remember what happened to you from the time of your disappearance? Perhaps you'd like to start when you arrived at the church…"
    The policewomen were both in their thirties, kind but severe. The rumor was already circulating that Scarlett had never been in any danger at all and that this whole thing was a colossal waste of police time.
    By now, Scarlett had worked out what she was going to say. She knew that it would sound pretty lame.
    But it would just have to do.
    "I don't remember anything," she said. "I. wasn't feeling well in the church. I was dizzy. So I went outside to get some fresh air — and after that, everything is blank. I think I fell over. I don't know…"
    "You fainted?"

    "I think so. I want to help you. But I just don't know…"
    The two policewomen looked doubtful. They had been on the force long enough to know when someone was lying, and it was obvious to them that Scarlett was hiding something. But there wasn't much they could do. They asked her the same questions over and over again and received exactly the same answers.
    She had fallen ill. She had fainted. She couldn't remember anything else. And what other