The Bone Snatcher by Charlotte Salter

Author:Charlotte Salter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2017-01-13T11:03:03+00:00

Chapter 17

Breaking Bones

Sophie brought the rusty ax down on a pile of scattered human bones. They cracked and shattered, yellow splinters flying past her face and hitting the wall behind her. The tunnels below were flooded, and all the bones there were floating around, impossible to reach through the murky water. It was Sophie’s idea to start breaking up the bone chairs instead.

She wiped her face with the back of her hand and leaned against the ax, trying not to think about who the bones once belonged to, or whose idea it was to turn them into pieces of furniture. If she could do that, the task was almost relaxing, and it kept her mind away from the Monster Box. Whenever she thought about it she felt a bit feverish, excited and nervous at the same time. She just needed to decide where to start looking.

“Concentrate or you’ll chop yer fingers off,” said Scree, making her jump.

“I’m trying not to look at all these dead people.”

“They’re not dead people, they’re chairs. It was a sort of honor, having your bones made into bits of furniture. It was so you’d be useful. Here,” he added kindly. “If you stick around long enough, you can be a chair, too. I don’t offer that to everyone.”

Sophie shuddered. “It takes a special kind of person to think a chair made out of human bones is tasteful.”

“It’s not bad just ’cause you don’t understand it,” said Scree. “Why do you think everyone tells tales about sea draugrs? It’s ’cause they don’t understand the things that go bump in the night. So they turn ’em into unreal monsters instead.”

“Of course sea draugrs are real!” she said, horrified.

“You ever seen one? I reckon they’re big ol’ fish that people see when they’re drunk.”

“I thought you believe in ghosts. What about the glowfish?”

“Them’s real ghosts,” he said. “Don’t be stupid. Hold up, they’re at it again.”

There was a loud crack and the catacombs shook. The echo rolled through the tunnels, deep and submarine-like. When it faded Scree began picking through the bones again, which had shivered across the floor and mixed together.

“Sounded like a big ’un,” he said. “I’d go check on it, if I were you.”

“Pray for me,” Sophie said.

It had been pouring for hours now, all through the night and into the morning. The rain was thick and gray like a nightmare, and the sky was dumping it on the island like it was trying to wash it away. Stepping onto the oyster beach was like walking into a wall of water. Her short hair was plastered to her face, and her clothes became so heavy she could hardly walk. The sack of bones that she’d left by the catacomb entrance was gone. All that was left was a sad slip of cloth.

The culprit, a gelatinous, many-tentacled monster, flung a chunk of rock at her. It whizzed past her shoulder and smashed on the cliff face, spattering bits of black. It turned out the sea creatures didn’t like the rain much.

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