The Empty Grave (Lockwood & Co. #5)(80)

Lockwood seized his silver cloak from the floor, while I took up the cape of feathers that had already survived two trips through a gate just like this. The others were waiting for us, dressed and ready. Kipps wore his bird-of-paradise cape and his trusty goggles; George, his cloak of silver scales. Holly was doing up the belt on her animal-pelt combo. They all had silver gloves from the Orpheus Society too. It was the same menagerie as before, but now that we were about to use them, the humour in those outfits was gone. The deathly pull of the spirit-gate hung over us all. Our faces were stiff with fear.

Behind me, someone tried the handle of the door. A bullet was fired into the wood, but the iron layer on our side prevented it from penetrating.

‘Don’t forget your gloves, Lucy,’ Lockwood said. He put his on.

‘How are you feeling, George?’ I asked. ‘Up for this?’

He nodded, gave me a weak smile.

‘Right,’ Lockwood said. ‘Everyone listen. Gale being here has changed things slightly. He might not be as frightened of this circle as Winkman’s men will be … But I don’t see that we have any choice. If we stay in here, we’ll be cut to pieces. Go through, and we’ll survive.’

Behind us, the ghosts howled. Something struck against the door: wood splintered, iron cracked.

Lockwood scowled. ‘The axe again. We need to get moving. This was my idea, so I need to go through first. Then George. Holly, can you go after George, make sure he’s OK? Then Quill. Lucy, that means you’re last – if that’s all right with you?’

‘Of course it is,’ I said.

The axe didn’t hang around for us; it chopped at the door.

‘Remember what Lucy and I told you,’ Lockwood went on. ‘Keep firm hold of the chain and walk straight across. The chain and your cloaks will keep the ghosts at bay. They’ll rage and shout, but they won’t touch you. You can just ignore them.’

‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ Kipps said. He was staring at the circle from under his feathery hood.

‘When we get to the Other Side,’ Lockwood said, ‘it’ll be like this room, only different. Darker. Quiet. No enemies. We’ll be safe.’ He smiled, took hold of the chain. ‘It’s just a few yards away. I’ll see you there.’

Something decisive happened to the door. You could hear the wood being ripped apart, the iron strips screaming as hands tore at them. Suddenly it was obvious that we wouldn’t have enough time. Lockwood hesitated, looked back in doubt.

Holly stepped forward. ‘No, you need to guard our backs, Lockwood. Let me go first. George – you follow me.’

She held out her hand for George; limping, he joined her at the chain. Lockwood stepped back, nodding his gratitude. He drew his sword and faced the door.

I gave George a thumbs-up. ‘Cheer up,’ I said. ‘You’ve been dying to do this!’ To be fair, it wasn’t the best choice of words. ‘See you in a minute,’ I added heartily. He looked numb with terror; he didn’t answer me.

George and Holly set off along the iron chain, going steadily, hand over hand. Two small cloaked figures, edging closer and closer to the iron circle, to where the chain entered the haze of ghostly light and disappeared.

A particularly loud crash came from the door. It was in pieces now. Two or three men were struggling to pull them clear. You could see the panic on their faces, their hesitation as they saw the gate. But Sir Rupert was there too. Face bloodied, teeth bared, he drove them on. I pulled my rapier from my belt, went to stand with Lockwood, side by side.

The screams of the ghosts grew suddenly loud. I looked back towards the gate. Holly and George were gone. The chain swung in little rhythmic movements, crisp and definite, like someone was still progressing along it, somewhere inside the circle. The shapes trapped in the column of hazy light whirled in a frenzy of eagerness and – I hoped – disappointment. As I watched, the chain stopped moving. It slowed, hung still.

‘It’s worked!’ I said. ‘They’re through. Quill, you’re up next.’

Kipps nodded, which sent the long feathers of his hood bobbing madly. With the best will in the world he looked like a mournful chicken about to walk a gangplank into a cooking pot. He grasped the chain and shuffled hesitantly towards the circle.

Something scrabbled at the hole in the broken door. Sir Rupert Gale launched himself through. He landed awkwardly, avoided my twirling blow and struck me aside with a lash of the fist. I fell into Lockwood, catching him off-balance. As we stumbled together, Sir Rupert drew back his sword to get a quick thrust in.

Something flashed past me like a vengeful chicken, striking left and right with a rapier. Sir Rupert was driven back against the door. He seemed stunned; it was all he could do to parry the blows. Maybe it was Kipps’s sheer weirdness that contributed to his shock – the bulging goggles, the bird-of-paradise feathers jerking above his head, the pink plumage swinging wildly with every sword-swipe. You couldn’t blame him. Kipps was enough to put anybody off.

Sir Rupert’s skills remained. He began to exert himself. Kipps’s momentum slowed, he backed away … But now Lockwood and I were beside him. For an instant it was three against one, the air alive with clinking metal. Someone slashed with a knife at Lockwood through the broken door. He dodged, spun round and struck at Sir Rupert’s head. Sir Rupert ducked under Lockwood’s blow and thrust at Kipps’s midriff beneath his cloak. Kipps cried out in pain. I cut down with my sword, slicing into Sir Rupert’s wrist. He swore and jumped back, holding his arm.