The Great Brain Robbery, page 24
“I think it’s already started,” said Frederick. “Look!” He pointed at a parade of flashing blue lights moving through the wreckage of the streets below. It was an army of police trolls on their telescoping stilts, and behind them came a tide of bright orange—troll engineers in their fluorescent overalls. Some of them were already at work with hammers and wands, straightening the buckled railway lines.
“Someone should tell them there’s a load of good stone in the entrance to the Hobb’s End mine,” said Wilmot. “It might come in handy.”
“And Gary, Barry, Komp, and Peeler are still down there somewhere,” added Frederick. “They’ll probably be glad to be arrested after a few days trapped underground.”
The clang and clatter of the repair work sounded through the air like distant bells and made Suzy smile.
“Well,” said Crepuscula, “since the authorities are here, it seems my services are no longer required.” She snapped her fingers, and a dark shape plunged down out of the sky. For a second, Suzy thought it was Tenebrae, wings outstretched and talons ready to strike. Everyone recoiled in fright. But then the shape slowed, and Suzy saw it was the gargoyle from the roof of Crepuscula’s gatehouse. It snapped its toothy snout at them all and picked its mistress up in its claws.
“If you ever find yourselves in the midst of disaster again,” said Crepuscula, “please don’t hesitate to contact someone else. Good-bye.” But Suzy thought she saw her wink as the gargoyle flapped its wings and carried her away.
“I’d better go, too,” said Gertrude through the Swoop’s speakers. “Dorothy and the Old Guard are waiting for news. We’ll all be back soon.” She brought the Swoop around and gunned the engine. A few seconds later, it was a vanishing speck far over the hills outside the city.
“Why is her flying thing better than mine?” said the king. “It’s not fair!” He shrugged his way out of his jet pack and threw it on the ground. “Where do I get a flying stone lizard? And a big black swooping machine? A thousand troll ducats to whoever gets me a better flying thingy!” He flounced off toward the emergency stairs but paused and turned back. “Oh, and before I forget,” he said, “we bestow our royal blessing on this fine troll train. Good luck, fair winds, blah blah, etcetera etcetera. There. Ceremony concluded.” And with that he turned and left.
“Well, it’s not quite what I had in mind,” said Wilmot. “But I’ll take it.”
Rayleigh, meanwhile, was muttering to himself. “Yes, that might work. A pair of stained glass wings fashioned from spellcraft. They could even morph into an attractive shawl or cape when not in use.” He snapped his fingers in a moment of revelation. “I should talk to Cirrus about a few designs. A collaboration! That’s the new ground I could break!” He tapped Bertha with his thermometer and was hurrying after the king before she was even halfway back into her briefcase. “Your Majesty!” he called. “Wait! I have some ideas!”
“I suppose I’d better go and hand myself in, then,” said Reggie, his shoulders slumping.
“Yes, you should,” said Frederick firmly. Suzy held her tongue. While she didn’t trust Reggie, she couldn’t find it in herself to blame him entirely for what had happened. The first earthquake had been accidental, and while he might have lacked the courage to stand up to Tenebrae, he had done the right thing in the end. She just wished he had done it sooner.
“I’ll come with you, old chap.” Stonker gave Reggie a reassuring pat on the shoulder, but his face was drawn and his mustache drooped. “Moral support, and all that.” He clapped Reggie on the back and steered him toward the stairs.
“Gggggrunk,” said Ursel.
“Good idea,” said Wilmot. “Let’s get to the Express. The repair teams will have fixed the railway lines soon, and they’ll need help towing her to a siding.” They turned toward the stairs, but Fletch hung back.
“You lot go ahead,” he said. “Right now I’ve got an appointment with an understairs cupboard.” He gave Suzy a meaningful look.
“You’re taking me home?” she said. Relief and sadness mixed together inside her until she couldn’t tell one from the other.
“As soon as they’ll let us through a tunnel,” said Fletch. “It’s not right to leave your folks sleepin’ too long.”
Wilmot looked a little crestfallen. “I suppose you should,” he said. “You’ll come back soon, though, won’t you? There’s still a sorting car full of overdue mail to deliver, and it won’t be half as much fun doing it without you.”
She opened her arms and drew him into a hug. “I’ll be back in no time. I promise.” She reached out, caught Frederick by the sleeve, and pulled him into the hug as well. “Thanks for all your help out there today, Mr. Expert.”
Frederick tried to look indifferent, but there was no hiding his proud grin. “It was nice to get out of the library for a bit,” he said. “Apart from the kidnapping and the getting knocked unconscious. And the almost dying.”
“Fffrrolf!” Ursel stretched her arms around all three of them and lifted them into an embrace that squeezed the air out of them. When she had set them down again, Wilmot cleared his throat and put on a serious face. “Deputy Postal Operative Smith?”
Suzy stood to attention. “Yes, Postmaster Grunt?”
“Exceptional work today. Keep it up.”
Suzy grinned. Despite everything that had happened, those words made everything feel a bit better.
25
HOME TRUTHS
Suzy was quiet on the ride back. This was partly due to exhaustion and the efforts of powering the pump cart, but also partly because her mind was preoccupied. Her thoughts were fragmented and hard to keep hold of, but they all seemed to revolve around the same things—Frederick and his parents, Stonker and the brother he had tried to forget about, Wilmot and Gertrude and the Old Guard; Crepuscula and Aybek. The feelings they stirred up were both painful and happy at the same time.
“End of the line,” said Fletch. “Everybody off.”
She looked up and was surprised to see that they were back in the cupboard under her stairs. It was still enormous.
“You still with us?” he laughed.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “Thanks, Fletch.”
“All part of the service,” he said, jumping down off the pump cart. “D’you want to go ahead and get changed, and then I’ll wake your folks up?”
She trudged upstairs and peeled off her uniform. It was filthy—caked in mud from the farm and dust from the mines. Her feet hurt. Her muscles ached. Her head felt stuffed full of wool. She shoved the dirty clothes into a bag and hid the bag under the bed. Then she pulled on her jeans and T-shirt and headed downstairs to the kitchen, where Fletch was waiting. Her parents were still sleeping soundly at the table, although their dinners had congealed, and a fat bluebottle was circling above her dad’s plate.
How am I going to get away with this? she thought. They’ve missed an entire day! And then, in an instant, she knew what she was going to tell them.
“Fletch,” she said. “Would you mind if I woke them up?”
He looked surprised. “Why?”
“Because I want to get as much experience with magic as I can,” she said. He looked at her for a moment, and she hoped he couldn’t see the lie hiding in her eyes.
“If it means that much to you,” he said, and fished his pouch of powder out of his pocket. “Just take a pinch, and blow it at ’em as soon as I’m on my way.” He held the pouch open for her, and she dipped her fingers in and took a pinch of powder. It was gritty, like sand.
“Thanks,” she said. “And I’m really sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” he said.
She took a step back and kicked shut the door to the hall, then leaned against it, blocking his escape.
“Oi!” he said. “What are you doing?”
“I can’t keep lying to my parents,” she said. “It isn’t fair, and sooner or later it’s going to end badly.”
“Who cares about fair!” said Fletch. He tried to dislodge her from the door, but she dug her heels in. “Let me out!”
Suzy raised the pinch of powder to her lips and blew.
“No!” said Fletch. But it was too late.
Suzy’s parents sat up with a start, blinking against the light.
“Ow,” said her father, rubbing a crick from his neck. “What happened?”
“Did we fall asleep?” said her mother. “What time is it?”
“It’s almost dinnertime again,” said Suzy. “You’ve been asleep for twenty-four hours.”
They looked around in surprise. Then they saw Fletch.
Her father yelped and jumped up onto the table. Her mother, meanwhile, sat frozen in her seat.
“’ello,” Fletch muttered.
“Suzy? Darling?” Her mother spoke in a very delicate voice. “What’s happening?”
“Mom,” said Suzy. “Dad. This is my friend Fletch. He builds railways using magic. I’ve got a part-time job delivering mail to other worlds. And I want to tell you all about it.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’ll never run out of people to thank for helping me get this book into a readable state, but first among them are my editors: Anna Poon at Feiwel & Friends, and Becky Walker and Rebecca Hill at Usborne. I’ve lost track of the number of times you’ve rescued this story (and me) from the myriad false starts, wrong turns, and general ineptitude I inflicted upon it.
Likewise, to the copyeditors, proofreaders, and formatting and design teams on both sides of the Atlantic who made the book look as good as it does: I take my hat off to you all.
My illustrators, Matt Sharack (US) and Flavia Sorrentino (UK): It’s always a joy to see you bring the Impossible Places to life in such different but wonderful ways. You regularly exceed what’s in my imagination.
Super-agent Gemma Cooper: If you ran the world, it would be a far better place.
Claire Fayers, children’s author extraordinaire: Not only are you a good friend, you’re the best writing buddy I could have asked for.
The Coffi House in Cardiff: my Happy Place, and my second office. Thanks to all the staff for putting up with me and Claire taking up space for so long.
To my family: Mum and Dad, and Chris, Heather, Serge, Tascha, Luc, Alyssa, Jayson, and Ruth: for all your support and enthusiasm, for always being there, and for babysitting duties whenever the need arose!
Lastly, to Anna, Aurelien, and Théo: None of this would have happened without you. I love you all.
Thank you for reading this Feiwel and Friends book.
Friends who made THE GREAT BRAIN ROBBERY possible are:
JEAN FEIWEL, PUBLISHER
LIZ SZABLA, ASSOCIATE PUBLISHER
RICH DEAS, SENIOR CREATIVE DIRECTOR
HOLLY WEST, SENIOR EDITOR
ANNA ROBERTO, SENIOR EDITOR
KAT BRZOZOWSKI, SENIOR EDITOR
ALEXEI ESIKOFF, SENIOR MANAGING EDITOR
KIM WAYMER, SENIOR PRODUCTION MANAGER
ANNA POON, ASSISTANT EDITOR
EMILY SETTLE, ASSOCIATE EDITOR
ERIN SIU, EDITORIAL ASSISTANT
KATIE KLIMOWICZ, SENIOR DESIGNER
ILANA WORRELL, PRODUCTION EDITOR
Praise for Book One,
THE TRAIN TO IMPOSSIBLE PLACES
* “A cast of unforgettable characters includes a brown bear that is yellow (she’s a blonde), underwater ghosts, and a group of overexcited retired postal trolls … All aboard for an adventure like no other—readers will be delighted to learn it’s just the first.”
—Kirkus Reviews, starred review
“Bell sets a smart pace, guiding Suzy smoothly through one impossibility after another in a way that keeps readers off-balance without bogging them down … the kind of efficiency and solid storytelling that a troll would admire.”
—Horn Book
“A rollicking adventure … reminiscent of Terry Pratchett and Diana Wynne Jones. There is plenty of humor to season Bell’s debut novel, and the characters and plot are refreshingly well developed and raise serious questions about honor and freedom. Fortunately, there will be more adventures in this first in a projected series. All aboard!”
—Booklist
“This debut fantasy is full of imaginative locales and fun twists, and readers will enjoy the creativity of Bell’s world and its look at how power left unchecked can corrupt.”
—Publishers Weekly
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
P. G. Bell is a native of south Wales, where he was raised on a diet of Greek mythology, ghost stories, and Doctor Who. He’s had all sorts of jobs over the years, from lifeguard to roller coaster operator, but has always wanted to write stories for a living. His dream came true with the publication of the Train to Impossible Places series. He currently works as a library assistant for Cardiff University and lives in Wales with his wife, Anna, and their two children. You can sign up for email updates here.
Thank you for buying this
Feiwel and Friends ebook.
To receive special offers, bonus content,
and info on new releases and other great reads,
sign up for our newsletters.
Or visit us online at
us.macmillan.com/newslettersignup
For email updates on the author, click here.
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
1. Countdown
2. Grinding Halt
3. A Royal Disaster
4. Aftershock
5. Spare Parts
6. Back in Business
7. Plan B
8. The Navigation Room
9. Crash Landing
10. Troll Hunt
11. Storm in a Teacup
12. Rock Bottom
13. Homeward Bound
14. Head in the Clouds
15. Sabotage
16. Mind Games
17. Captive Audience
18. Sibling Rivalry
19. Getaway
20. Return to Trollville
21. The Drill
22. The Only Way is Down
23. A Mind is a Terrible Thing to Waste
24. Rise of the Titan
25. Home Truths
Acknowledgments
Praise for Book One, The Train to Impossible Places
About the Author
Copyright
A FEIWEL AND FRIENDS BOOK
An imprint of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC
120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271
THE GREAT BRAIN ROBBERY: A TRAIN TO IMPOSSIBLE PLACES NOVEL. Text copyright © 2019 by Ty Gloch Limited. Illustrations copyright © 2019 by Matt Sharack. All rights reserved.
Our eBooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, ext. 5442, or by e-mail at MacmillanSpecialMarkets@macmillan.com.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
ISBN 978-1-250-19005-5 (hardcover) / ISBN 978-1-250-19006-2 (ebook)
Feiwel and Friends logo designed by Filomena Tuosto
First edition, 2019
eISBN: 9781250190062
mackids.com
P. G. Bell, The Great Brain Robbery
