Read Online Wild Boy and the Black Terror by Rob Lloyd Jones - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rob Lloyd Jones
Ads: Link
deeper into the space. A spider scuttled across his hand, tickling his hairs. He felt the back of the shelf, prodded the wood, tapping, testing…
The wooden panel flipped open. There was something hidden behind it.
“Ha,” he said, and then bit his lip, fearing he might be heard.
Every hair on Wild Boy’s body tingled. He couldn’t wait to tell Clarissa he’d found a clue without her. She’d be
furious
.
Eagerly, he slid the item from the secret compartment. It was a small ebony box, similar to the one the killer had sent to the Queen. He plucked off the lid and groaned. Whatever had been in there was gone. All that remained was an outline in dust, about the size of a plum, where an object had sat.
But it was still a clue. Whatever had been in the box, Wild Boy was certain it was important to the case. He and Clarissa would find a way to get it after she got back from Lady Bentick’s dinner.
Already grinning at the prospect, Wild Boy slid the box back. He pushed the hatch shut. It closed with a hollow
thud
.
Wild Boy turned to leave, but stopped.
That
thud
.
He had heard it before.
It was the sound he’d thought was the library door closing, the
thud
he thought was Lucien leaving.
A grey hand grabbed his arm. It threw Wild Boy so hard against the shelf that books crashed down on his head.
Lucien glared at him. His arms trembled and his voice boomed like musket fire. “What are you doing here, boy? What did you see?” He leaned closer, blasting Wild Boy with stale breath. “This isn’t one of your detective games! This is beyond anything you can possibly comprehend.”
He pushed Wild Boy harder, causing more books to fall. Wild Boy didn’t fight. He wasn’t bothered about the beating; he’d taken worse, and from nastier people. What worried him then – what scared him to his bones – was the look in Lucien’s eyes.
This man had led armies into battle. And yet something about this case terrified Lucien Grant. And that terrified Wild Boy too. He wanted to get away from him. Far away.
Just as Lucien opened his mouth to shout, Wild Boy hocked up a ball of spit and fired it between the Gentleman’s lips. Shock caused Lucien to relax his grip, freeing vital inches for Wild Boy to swing a knee at his groin.
Lucien’s eyes widened and he made a sound like a bagpipe.
Twisting free, Wild Boy kicked him again between the legs, and then again, harder. He turned and pelted between stacks of shelves.
Every instinct urged him to keep running, but he forced himself to stop in the library doorway. Whatever Lucien took from that box could be his biggest clue yet. He had to find out what it was, but he could think of only one way. One very painful way.
Lucien stumbled closer, red-eyed and roaring. “Bloody boy!”
Wild Boy clenched his fists, ready for the impact. “Come on, old man!” he yelled. “Hit me as hard as you can.”
The Gentleman slammed into him like a locomotive, and they tumbled together back into the cloister. The blow knocked the breath from Wild Boy’s body, but he managed to turn as he fell, so that Lucien’s head cracked against the stone ground.
Blood seeped from a cut on Lucien’s forehead, forming crimson crystals in the snow. His eyes rolled as he struggled to stay concious.
Retching for breath, Wild Boy crawled closer. He rummaged through Lucien’s coat, searching for the object from the box. All he found was Lucien’s snuff tin. He dropped it and was about to search again, when Lucien’s hand shot up and grabbed his arm.
Wild Boy tried to pull away, but the grip on his wrist was like a vice. When Lucien spoke again he didn’t sound angry. His voice was urgent, imploring – desperate, even.
“Wait…” he groaned. “Marcus…”
Wild Boy stopped tugging his arm. Did he say
Marcus
?
“God’s sake…” Lucien said. “Marcus … in danger…”
The fire fizzled out inside him and he slumped back to the ground. Wild Boy held onto Lucien’s hand, shaking it
The wooden panel flipped open. There was something hidden behind it.
“Ha,” he said, and then bit his lip, fearing he might be heard.
Every hair on Wild Boy’s body tingled. He couldn’t wait to tell Clarissa he’d found a clue without her. She’d be
furious
.
Eagerly, he slid the item from the secret compartment. It was a small ebony box, similar to the one the killer had sent to the Queen. He plucked off the lid and groaned. Whatever had been in there was gone. All that remained was an outline in dust, about the size of a plum, where an object had sat.
But it was still a clue. Whatever had been in the box, Wild Boy was certain it was important to the case. He and Clarissa would find a way to get it after she got back from Lady Bentick’s dinner.
Already grinning at the prospect, Wild Boy slid the box back. He pushed the hatch shut. It closed with a hollow
thud
.
Wild Boy turned to leave, but stopped.
That
thud
.
He had heard it before.
It was the sound he’d thought was the library door closing, the
thud
he thought was Lucien leaving.
A grey hand grabbed his arm. It threw Wild Boy so hard against the shelf that books crashed down on his head.
Lucien glared at him. His arms trembled and his voice boomed like musket fire. “What are you doing here, boy? What did you see?” He leaned closer, blasting Wild Boy with stale breath. “This isn’t one of your detective games! This is beyond anything you can possibly comprehend.”
He pushed Wild Boy harder, causing more books to fall. Wild Boy didn’t fight. He wasn’t bothered about the beating; he’d taken worse, and from nastier people. What worried him then – what scared him to his bones – was the look in Lucien’s eyes.
This man had led armies into battle. And yet something about this case terrified Lucien Grant. And that terrified Wild Boy too. He wanted to get away from him. Far away.
Just as Lucien opened his mouth to shout, Wild Boy hocked up a ball of spit and fired it between the Gentleman’s lips. Shock caused Lucien to relax his grip, freeing vital inches for Wild Boy to swing a knee at his groin.
Lucien’s eyes widened and he made a sound like a bagpipe.
Twisting free, Wild Boy kicked him again between the legs, and then again, harder. He turned and pelted between stacks of shelves.
Every instinct urged him to keep running, but he forced himself to stop in the library doorway. Whatever Lucien took from that box could be his biggest clue yet. He had to find out what it was, but he could think of only one way. One very painful way.
Lucien stumbled closer, red-eyed and roaring. “Bloody boy!”
Wild Boy clenched his fists, ready for the impact. “Come on, old man!” he yelled. “Hit me as hard as you can.”
The Gentleman slammed into him like a locomotive, and they tumbled together back into the cloister. The blow knocked the breath from Wild Boy’s body, but he managed to turn as he fell, so that Lucien’s head cracked against the stone ground.
Blood seeped from a cut on Lucien’s forehead, forming crimson crystals in the snow. His eyes rolled as he struggled to stay concious.
Retching for breath, Wild Boy crawled closer. He rummaged through Lucien’s coat, searching for the object from the box. All he found was Lucien’s snuff tin. He dropped it and was about to search again, when Lucien’s hand shot up and grabbed his arm.
Wild Boy tried to pull away, but the grip on his wrist was like a vice. When Lucien spoke again he didn’t sound angry. His voice was urgent, imploring – desperate, even.
“Wait…” he groaned. “Marcus…”
Wild Boy stopped tugging his arm. Did he say
Marcus
?
“God’s sake…” Lucien said. “Marcus … in danger…”
The fire fizzled out inside him and he slumped back to the ground. Wild Boy held onto Lucien’s hand, shaking it
Similar Books
