Glasshead,” Greg retorted.
The Face ignored him and addressed Lewis with exaggerated politeness. “If you are done with me, Ounfortunate sibling, I shall return to the nothingness from which I came. And with some relief, I might add.”
So saying, the Face dissolved into the swirling mist that covered the mirror’s surface. Greg made an unpleasant gesture at the glass.
“Just a moment,” they heard a voice call from outside the room. “I must fetch my coat first.”
It was Aunt Vivien. There was no mistaking that piercing tone and they could hear her footsteps climbing the stairs towards them.
“We need to hide!” Lewis gasped in sudden panic.
“No time,” Greg said grimly. “Out the window!”
“We’ll break our necks,” Lewis objected.
“Slide over and hang on with your fingers, then let go,” Greg told him. “It’s not that big a drop. Now do it!”
The prospect of confronting a monster version of Aunt Vivien was enough to snap Lewis into action. He swung himself over the window ledge and slipped down till he was only just hanging on, with his legs dangling over the back garden.
He wasn’t inclined to let go, but he was delaying Greg’s escape by hanging on. He relaxed his grip and slid down the wall, the rough brickwork tearing up the front of his jumper. When he hit the ground his legs folded up and he collapsed into a ball. He lay there checking for broken bones until he was sure he wasn’tinjured.
He was about to get up when he noticed that he was staring at the toes of a pair of black boots. He followed them up a pair of long legs to where a tall, blonde woman stood over him. She was wearing chainmail and a round helmet with wings on the sides.
“So I find you crawling in the grass like a worm, just as should be expected,” she announced grandly, as though she were performing a scene out of an opera. She seized the hilt of the sword that hung at her side and pulled it from its sheath. “It’s time you were dealt with.”
7. ONE COIN IN THE FOUNTAIN
It was at that moment that Greg dropped from the window and landed squarely on top of the woman. They tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs and chainmail. Greg was the first to crawl dazedly out of the mess.
Lewis grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet. “Anything broken?” he demanded.
“No, I’m fine.”
“Good. Let’s get out of here.”
Lewis set off at a run, dragging Greg bemusedly behind him.
“Who is she?” Greg asked.
“A Valkyrie, I think. Never mind that right now. We have to get away.”
As they rushed out of the gate, he glanced back and saw the warrior woman rise to her feet. Instead of chasing them, she stuck two fingers in her mouth and let out a sharp whistle.
Her summons was answered by the weirdest thing they had yet seen on a day when the weirdness factor was already in the high nineties. It looked likea modern sculpture of a horse made out of scrap metal with two motorcycle wheels instead of legs. It came racing round the corner of the house with a high-pitched whinny and a hiss of pistons. Its eyes glowed red and steam puffed from its flared metal nostrils.
“This doesn’t look good,” Greg observed, lengthening his stride so that Lewis no longer needed to pull him along.
Sprinting down Spottiswood Gardens, they looked back to see the Valkyrie rounding the corner on her metal steed.
Lewis followed Greg’s lead and raced down to Broomfaulds, where they ducked behind a stone tomb graven with images of knights and monsters. Yesterday it had been a bus shelter.
The Valkyrie came roaring past, too caught up in her own rage to notice them crouching there in the shadows. As she disappeared into the distance, the boys slumped against the tomb and gasped in relief.
“Now can you tell me who your girlfriend is?” Greg asked.
“I think she’s a Valkyrie. They were warrior maidens in Norse mythology. They gathered up the souls of dead warriors and took them to Valhalla where they’d
The Face ignored him and addressed Lewis with exaggerated politeness. “If you are done with me, Ounfortunate sibling, I shall return to the nothingness from which I came. And with some relief, I might add.”
So saying, the Face dissolved into the swirling mist that covered the mirror’s surface. Greg made an unpleasant gesture at the glass.
“Just a moment,” they heard a voice call from outside the room. “I must fetch my coat first.”
It was Aunt Vivien. There was no mistaking that piercing tone and they could hear her footsteps climbing the stairs towards them.
“We need to hide!” Lewis gasped in sudden panic.
“No time,” Greg said grimly. “Out the window!”
“We’ll break our necks,” Lewis objected.
“Slide over and hang on with your fingers, then let go,” Greg told him. “It’s not that big a drop. Now do it!”
The prospect of confronting a monster version of Aunt Vivien was enough to snap Lewis into action. He swung himself over the window ledge and slipped down till he was only just hanging on, with his legs dangling over the back garden.
He wasn’t inclined to let go, but he was delaying Greg’s escape by hanging on. He relaxed his grip and slid down the wall, the rough brickwork tearing up the front of his jumper. When he hit the ground his legs folded up and he collapsed into a ball. He lay there checking for broken bones until he was sure he wasn’tinjured.
He was about to get up when he noticed that he was staring at the toes of a pair of black boots. He followed them up a pair of long legs to where a tall, blonde woman stood over him. She was wearing chainmail and a round helmet with wings on the sides.
“So I find you crawling in the grass like a worm, just as should be expected,” she announced grandly, as though she were performing a scene out of an opera. She seized the hilt of the sword that hung at her side and pulled it from its sheath. “It’s time you were dealt with.”
7. ONE COIN IN THE FOUNTAIN
It was at that moment that Greg dropped from the window and landed squarely on top of the woman. They tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs and chainmail. Greg was the first to crawl dazedly out of the mess.
Lewis grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet. “Anything broken?” he demanded.
“No, I’m fine.”
“Good. Let’s get out of here.”
Lewis set off at a run, dragging Greg bemusedly behind him.
“Who is she?” Greg asked.
“A Valkyrie, I think. Never mind that right now. We have to get away.”
As they rushed out of the gate, he glanced back and saw the warrior woman rise to her feet. Instead of chasing them, she stuck two fingers in her mouth and let out a sharp whistle.
Her summons was answered by the weirdest thing they had yet seen on a day when the weirdness factor was already in the high nineties. It looked likea modern sculpture of a horse made out of scrap metal with two motorcycle wheels instead of legs. It came racing round the corner of the house with a high-pitched whinny and a hiss of pistons. Its eyes glowed red and steam puffed from its flared metal nostrils.
“This doesn’t look good,” Greg observed, lengthening his stride so that Lewis no longer needed to pull him along.
Sprinting down Spottiswood Gardens, they looked back to see the Valkyrie rounding the corner on her metal steed.
Lewis followed Greg’s lead and raced down to Broomfaulds, where they ducked behind a stone tomb graven with images of knights and monsters. Yesterday it had been a bus shelter.
The Valkyrie came roaring past, too caught up in her own rage to notice them crouching there in the shadows. As she disappeared into the distance, the boys slumped against the tomb and gasped in relief.
“Now can you tell me who your girlfriend is?” Greg asked.
“I think she’s a Valkyrie. They were warrior maidens in Norse mythology. They gathered up the souls of dead warriors and took them to Valhalla where they’d
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