Poisoned by Jennifer Donnelly

Author:Jennifer Donnelly [Donnelly, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2020-10-14T16:00:00+00:00

With a bow of his head, Haakon turned and walked away, disappearing up the stairs.

“No!” Sophie screamed at his back. “Haakon, don’t do this!”

Captain Krause and his men set to work. They unstoppered the two jugs that one of the soldiers had carried down and splashed their contents over the floor and through the bars of the crypts, including the one Sophie and her friends were in. Acrid fumes of lamp oil rose, searing Sophie’s nose.

“Please let us out,” she begged Krause, weeping. “You can’t leave us to die!”

If Krause heard her, he gave no indication. His men followed their orders, and when the jugs had been emptied, they made their way to the stairwell.

Krause paused, waiting for them to leave. As soon as they were gone, he turned and touched his torch to the oil, and then raced up the stairs himself. There was a loud, sucking whoosh as the oil ignited. Will grabbed Sophie and pulled her back from the gate. Blue flames traveled along the floor. They darted into the gated crypts, fed on the wood of the old coffins there, and quickly grew.

And so did Sophie’s terror. With their arched stone tops and fiery interiors, the crypts looked to her like giant ovens.

As Will tried to stamp out the flames creeping toward them through the bars, Sophie realized that she was going to die. Slowly and painfully. And Will and Arno Schmitt were going to die with her. She started screaming then and could not stop. Zara, whimpering, paced back and forth.

Will was throwing himself at the gate now, trying to break the bars, or bend them, but they were made of iron and did not give. He found a chunk of stone, one that had tumbled off an ancient tomb, and used it to batter them, but the stone shattered in his hands.

Arno did not scream or throw himself at the gate. Instead, he busied himself at the back of the crypt. Pulling his belongings together. Tucking things into a rucksack. Finishing off a bottle of wine.

“Stop, Sophie, please,” Will said. “Stop screaming. I can’t think … I need to think …”

“No, keep it up, Sophie. If you could, scream even louder,” Arno said. He went back to his work, whistling.

Will looked at him in disbelief. “We’re about to burn to death and you’re whistling Oompah tunes?”

Arno gave Will a dismissive look. “Foolish is the man who builds a house with one door.”

He grabbed hold of a wooden coffin lid and, with effort, pushed it to one side. Will saw a skull and just under it, the rotted lace collar of a once-fine dress.

“Pardon me, darlin’,” Arno said to the occupant. He stuck his arm way down into the coffin and scrabbled around, frowning. “Ah! There we are!” he exclaimed, pulling out a bulging leather sack. He dropped it on the ground. It made a clinking sound. “I’ll miss this old place,” he said, looking around wistfully. “Quiet neighbors. Nice memories.” His eyes fell on Will again.

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