Searching for Arthur (The Return to Camelot #1)(10)

After an eternity of silence, Slurpy eventually spoke. Her high-pitched voice was unusually low.

“He told me about the voices you heard.”

I nodded, unable to speak as tears filled my eyes. I bit down on my bottom lip.

“Were you telling the truth?”

I nodded again.

“Was it true about the people with swords?”

I nodded again.

“I would have called you a liar or a nutcase if I hadn’t seen that rabbit.”

“Don’t worry about it, most people think I’m a liar and a nutcase,” I whispered.

“Arthur doesn’t.”

The longest conversation we had ever shared was over. While we detested the presence of the other, we now had a common goal.

Find Arthur.



Slurpy’s parents arrived to pick her up not long after. Words of comfort spoken to my mother were lost to the breeze that constantly swept through our house as doors were opened and shut again. Total strangers tramped through our house as if it were their own.

My mother slept in Arthur’s bedroom, but only after a local doctor had tranquilised her. I didn’t sleep at all. I just listened to the voices whispering through the trees.



“He is here. He is here.”





Chapter Four

Follow the Rabbit



The inhabitants of nowhere were true to their word.

As the morning sun stretched over the horizon, the police cars trundled up the gravel drive, and the search for Arthur resumed.

Word had been spread from one house to another about the missing eighteen-year-old boy, and the strangers who had trampled through our house the night before were joined by more. Many, many more. By seven o’clock, over one hundred people had joined the search. Armed with sticks, plastic boots and waxed jackets, the brigade of locals set off in groups of ten, marching along the stone lanes like green knights.

“They’ll find him,” said Mrs. Pratchett repeatedly, as she took command of our kitchen.

I couldn’t eat or drink anything. Neither could my mother who had to be sedated once more. My father was due to arrive later in the morning, and already more senior police officers had turned up for the Foreign Office debriefing.

“A terrorist kidnapping is not being ruled in or out at this stage,” said a tall thin officer with crooked yellow teeth to no one in particular.

They really didn’t have a clue what had been awoken underneath them after all this time, I thought.



My intention had been to slip away unnoticed and go in search of Arthur myself, but that was proving difficult. First, the tall thin officer with crooked yellow teeth had told a junior constable to shadow my every move. I ended up locking myself in the bathroom just to get away from her. Then Mrs. Pratchett and the post mistress of the village, Mrs. Lancelyn-Green, took it upon themselves to force feed me like a turkey at Christmas. They wanted to make sure I didn’t have another fainting spell in my delicate state.

My opportunity to run came from the most unexpected source. Slurpy and her younger brother arrived with their parents, not long after the second search party had been debriefed and sent out into the woods. Her brother, who saw the whole thing as a great excuse to skive off school, sat at the kitchen table and wolfed down slice after slice of cold toast, before burping the alphabet backwards.

Slurpy’s parents were slightly more helpful, and while her father took command of the third search party, Mrs. Slurpy went to keep an eye on my mother.

Slurpy motioned to me to follow her the second our police shadow went to the bathroom. We slipped into the garden and walked down to the empty chicken coop. The first thing I noticed was that the bloody straw had been removed. Yellow police tape was wound around the chicken coop and several trees.

“So what’s the plan?” whispered Slurpy, once we were sure no one was within earshot.

We were dressed very similar: skinny black jeans, black tshirts and unbuttoned red and black plaid shirts. The only difference in our appearance was that my sweatshirt was tied around my waist, while Slurpy had hers draped over her shoulders. She also had a purple backpack.

“We need to find that tomb again,” I replied. “The one I fell down last week.”

“And what do we do then?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m making this up as I go along. All I know is that we can’t tell the police about Mr. Rochester, the ancient soldiers with swords, or the voices, because they’ll immediately think we are crazy or on drugs. Then it will look as if we had something do to with Arthur going missing, and that policewoman hasn’t let me out of her sight since she got here.”

“Then we have to leave now,” said Slurpy, glancing around the man-sized holly bush we were hiding behind, “before they realise you are missing. Do you know the way back to this hole?”

I shook my head. Slurpy rolled her eyes.

“It’s not my fault,” I hissed under my breath. “I was just running through the woods after mum started having a go at me about the school dance. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going, and I certainly didn’t expect to fall into a grave.”

Slurpy made a humph sound in the back of her throat. I wanted to slap her on the back to dislodge it.

Slap her hard.

“Well, at least I’m organised,” she said sarcastically, grabbing hold of my shirt and pulling me along to the long-slatted gate that Arthur was last seen vaulting over. She patted her backpack. “I’ve got food, drink, my mobile, cigarettes, gum, and a torch.”