Darwen Arkwright and the School of Shadows by A. J. Hartley

Author:A. J. Hartley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2013-07-09T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

That Which Eats

It was night in the Silbrican desert. The still air was unexpectedly cool, and the pale sand glowed beneath their feet like silver. Distant ripples of blue-green streaked across the darkened sky in a constant but never repeated pattern that reminded Darwen of the northern lights. These, however, were slower, more wavelike, undulating in the sky like liquid in a glass that was being gently rocked back and forth.

Darwen, Rich, and Alex had been at school all day, a typical day for Darwen in that he had spent most of it trying not to be noticed—particularly by Mr. Sumners in math class—but a day in which he had also been avoiding his friends. There were things about tonight’s mission he had not dared to tell them.

“What are we looking for?” asked Alex, who had grown tired of his evasion hours ago.

“Two things,” said Darwen, trying to sound casual. “There’s a portal here that will take us to the human world close to where I think Mr. Peregrine might be.”

“And the other thing?” asked Rich, watching Darwen closely. “What else are we looking for?”

“A friend,” said Darwen carefully. “Kind of.”

“Which means what?” asked Alex, giving him a level look so that Darwen glanced away.

“An ally,” he said.

“And does it know it’s an ally, this kind-of friend of ours,” Alex pressed, “or is it the kind of pal who might stab us to death if he doesn’t like the color of our sneakers?”

“It’s not so much a he as an it,” said Darwen, gazing at the odd lights in the sky as if they were absolutely fascinating.

“Fantastic,” said Alex dryly. “Does this it have a name?”

“Not one you’d find helpful,” said Darwen.

“Try me.”

“Some call it simply That Which Eats,” said Darwen.

“What?” said Rich.

“Or the Death Dreamer,” said Darwen, leading them along the crest of a long, pale dune. “Or the Consumer of All Things. See,” he added. “I told you the names weren’t helpful.”

“They helped me make up my mind that I’d like to leave now, please,” said Alex. She stopped walking by a patch of thin, dry grass that rose up from the sand like reeds.

“If we can get this thing on our side,” Darwen insisted, “it could be a powerful ally against Greyling.”

“And if we can’t?” asked Rich.

“Well,” Darwen hedged, “we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“You notice people always use that phrase,” Alex said, “when they know the bridge is going to fall apart as soon as you put your foot on it?”

“So this Thing That Shall Not Be Named,” said Rich. “What does it look like?”

“Okay,” said Darwen, turning to him, “now you’ve not to freak out on me, all right?”

“Oh, this just gets better and better,” said Alex.

“I mean, it’s fine,” said Darwen, “but Rich might not like it very much.”

“Why me?” asked Rich. “Why will I like it less than Alex?”

He caught himself and stared at Darwen. “It’s a snake, isn’t it?” he said.

Rich’s fear of snakes had been well established in Costa Rica.

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