Charlie Bone and the Wilderness Wolf (Children of the Red King, Book 6) by Jenny Nimmo Page A
Authors: Jenny Nimmo
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shakily.
"Mind your own business," she bellowed. "GET OUT. GO AWAY!"
She was drowned out by a roar from the doorway.
"Are you deaf, Charlie Bone?" shouted Weedon. "I've been searching the entire school for you. It's time to go home. Unless you plan to spend another night here."
"NO, no," said Charlie. "I didn't realize. Is Uncle Paton ..."
"Won't come in. Keeps phoning me from that wretched cell phone of his. Blasted gadgets. Should never have been invented. Instruments of the devil, if you ask me."
Charlie rushed past Weedon with Billy close behind him. They tore up to the dormitory to fetch their bags and were back in the hall in three minutes flat. Weedon came lumbering downstairs after them.
"You don't deserve a vacation," he grumbled, unlocking the heavy door.
Charlie didn't bother to point out that one day away from school wasn't exactly a vacation. The sleet had died away at last, but it had been replaced by an icy fog. They could barely make out Uncle Paton's car parked across the square. As usual his head was bent over a book. Unusually, he wasn't wearing his dark glasses.
"Can hardly see a thing in this fog," Uncle Paton remarked as the boys scrambled into the backseat. "So I doubt that anyone can see me."
They drove cautiously out of the square. It was already getting dark and the streetlights appeared as soft halos of light, hanging in the fog.
"Extraordinary fog," said Uncle Paton as he peered ahead. "It tastes of salt. Must have blown in from the sea, though goodness knows it's miles away."
"The sea." Charlie was beginning to make a connection. "Uncle P., there's a new boy at school. His endowment, he says, is drowning."
Uncle Paton chuckled. "Drowning? A ghostly shipwreck of a person, then?"
"It's serious, Mr. Yewbeam," said Billy earnestly. "He drowns OTHER people."
Charlie added, "His father is Lord Grimwald. The man who ..."
"Good heavens! I know who you mean, Charlie. A wrecker if ever there was one. He's been keeping quiet lately. I thought he was dead and buried. Mind you" - Uncle Paton honked at a car that loomed out of the fog, dangerously close - "there have been a few drownings in his area lately. Fishermen mostly.
They put it down to the weather, but you never know."
"Where is his area?" asked Charlie.
"North." Uncle Paton waved a hand in no particular direction. "One of the islands. No one knows the precise location. They're a curious bunch, the Grimwalds. Legend has it that when a son of that family reaches twelve years, his father dies - or he does. The two cannot both survive beyond the son's thirteenth year. A family tragedy, you might say. On the other hand, one drowner is better than two."
Charlie had lost a father when he was too young to remember him. But now that father was found, how terrible it would be to lose him again, when he was twelve. A twinge of fear caused him to shiver as he thought of his parents surrounded by the sea. He could even taste the salt on his lips.
The car jerked to a halt as Paton suddenly realized they were outside number nine. When they got out of the car, the fog wrapped itself around them like an icy blanket.
Billy coughed and clutched his chest. "It goes right down your throat," he spluttered. "Like swallowing cotton wool."
As they climbed the steps the muffled sound of church bells stole through the misty air, and Paton said, "Ah, that reminds me, your great-aunt Venetia was married today, Charlie." He opened the front door.
"What a horrible day for a wedding." Charlie remarked as he stepped inside. "Bad luck, I expect."
His uncle wiped his feet on the doormat. "I wasn't invited, naturally."
The boys were very glad to find that Maisie hadn't been invited either. They were able to sit down to a delicious tea without Grandma Bone's sour face looming across the table.
"You should have seen your grandma," Maisie said. "She decided to go to the wedding after all. Disapproval all over her face, but she couldn't miss it. She was purple from
"Mind your own business," she bellowed. "GET OUT. GO AWAY!"
She was drowned out by a roar from the doorway.
"Are you deaf, Charlie Bone?" shouted Weedon. "I've been searching the entire school for you. It's time to go home. Unless you plan to spend another night here."
"NO, no," said Charlie. "I didn't realize. Is Uncle Paton ..."
"Won't come in. Keeps phoning me from that wretched cell phone of his. Blasted gadgets. Should never have been invented. Instruments of the devil, if you ask me."
Charlie rushed past Weedon with Billy close behind him. They tore up to the dormitory to fetch their bags and were back in the hall in three minutes flat. Weedon came lumbering downstairs after them.
"You don't deserve a vacation," he grumbled, unlocking the heavy door.
Charlie didn't bother to point out that one day away from school wasn't exactly a vacation. The sleet had died away at last, but it had been replaced by an icy fog. They could barely make out Uncle Paton's car parked across the square. As usual his head was bent over a book. Unusually, he wasn't wearing his dark glasses.
"Can hardly see a thing in this fog," Uncle Paton remarked as the boys scrambled into the backseat. "So I doubt that anyone can see me."
They drove cautiously out of the square. It was already getting dark and the streetlights appeared as soft halos of light, hanging in the fog.
"Extraordinary fog," said Uncle Paton as he peered ahead. "It tastes of salt. Must have blown in from the sea, though goodness knows it's miles away."
"The sea." Charlie was beginning to make a connection. "Uncle P., there's a new boy at school. His endowment, he says, is drowning."
Uncle Paton chuckled. "Drowning? A ghostly shipwreck of a person, then?"
"It's serious, Mr. Yewbeam," said Billy earnestly. "He drowns OTHER people."
Charlie added, "His father is Lord Grimwald. The man who ..."
"Good heavens! I know who you mean, Charlie. A wrecker if ever there was one. He's been keeping quiet lately. I thought he was dead and buried. Mind you" - Uncle Paton honked at a car that loomed out of the fog, dangerously close - "there have been a few drownings in his area lately. Fishermen mostly.
They put it down to the weather, but you never know."
"Where is his area?" asked Charlie.
"North." Uncle Paton waved a hand in no particular direction. "One of the islands. No one knows the precise location. They're a curious bunch, the Grimwalds. Legend has it that when a son of that family reaches twelve years, his father dies - or he does. The two cannot both survive beyond the son's thirteenth year. A family tragedy, you might say. On the other hand, one drowner is better than two."
Charlie had lost a father when he was too young to remember him. But now that father was found, how terrible it would be to lose him again, when he was twelve. A twinge of fear caused him to shiver as he thought of his parents surrounded by the sea. He could even taste the salt on his lips.
The car jerked to a halt as Paton suddenly realized they were outside number nine. When they got out of the car, the fog wrapped itself around them like an icy blanket.
Billy coughed and clutched his chest. "It goes right down your throat," he spluttered. "Like swallowing cotton wool."
As they climbed the steps the muffled sound of church bells stole through the misty air, and Paton said, "Ah, that reminds me, your great-aunt Venetia was married today, Charlie." He opened the front door.
"What a horrible day for a wedding." Charlie remarked as he stepped inside. "Bad luck, I expect."
His uncle wiped his feet on the doormat. "I wasn't invited, naturally."
The boys were very glad to find that Maisie hadn't been invited either. They were able to sit down to a delicious tea without Grandma Bone's sour face looming across the table.
"You should have seen your grandma," Maisie said. "She decided to go to the wedding after all. Disapproval all over her face, but she couldn't miss it. She was purple from
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