Delivery to the Lost City Page 2

  Suzy grimaced. Fletch was lovely once you go to know him well enough, but he didn’t exactly make a good first impression. And three weeks ago, at this very table, she had revealed the truth about the Impossible Places to her parents by waking them from the depths of a sleeping spell and introducing them to him. Perhaps that hadn’t been such a great idea.

  Then her mom gave a strangled little squeak and retreated behind her dad.

  “What’s wrong?” Suzy asked.

  Her mom peered out from behind her dad and pointed with a quaking hand to the large yellow bear that was squeezing its bulk out of the fridge. It reared up onto its hind legs, and the pink ribbon tied in a bow around its head scraped the ceiling. Its fur was brushed and gleaming, and even its blue denim overalls were clean and neatly pressed.

  “Ursel!” said Suzy, running over and throwing her arms around the animal’s waist. “You look great!”

  “Rrrrorlf,” Ursel replied, baring her huge fangs in a smile.

  “Mom, Dad, this is Ursel. She’s the Express’s firewoman.”

  Ursel stuck out a paw, making Suzy’s parents flinch. Suzy laughed. She had forgotten just how scared she herself had been upon first meeting Ursel.

  “It’s very nice to meet you,” her dad said, hesitantly taking the paw in both his hands and shaking it. He gave a nervous little laugh. “You’re much bigger than I imagined!”

  “Grrronf,” said Ursel. “Hhhhrk rowlf.”

  “Pardon?” said Suzy’s dad.

  “Ursel says she’ll take that as a compliment,” said Stonker, with a slight smile. “But please think very carefully before you give her any more.”

  Suzy’s dad nodded hard enough to make his teeth rattle.

  “She also wants to know if this is a traditional form of human dress, Mrs. Smith,” said Stonker, indicating her bathrobe. “Suzy was wearing one the first time we met her.”

  Suzy’s mom blushed. “I was just going to get dressed,” she said. “In fact, if you’ll excuse me…”

  “Wait, Mom,” said Suzy. “This isn’t everyone. Where’s…?”

  “Hello!” came a voice from the fridge. “Did I miss anything?”

  Suzy broke into a huge grin as a young troll stepped into the kitchen. He had pale green skin and large eyes, and wore a red-and-gold postie’s uniform that was several sizes too big for him. He clutched a small gift-wrapped parcel and looked around the kitchen with undisguised interest.

  “Hello, Suzy!” he said. “So this is where you live! Wow!” He bustled over and gave Suzy a quick hug, then headed straight for her parents. “Hello there,” he said. “I’ve really been looking forward to meeting you both. I’m Wilmot Grunt, Postmaster of the Express, but please just call me Wilmot.” He laughed. “Suzy is the very best postal operative I’ve ever worked with.”

  “She’s the only postal operative you’ve ever worked with,” said Fletch.

  Wilmot pressed his lips together in annoyance. “True,” he said. “But she still does an exceptional job, and I count myself very lucky to have her on my staff.”

  Suzy glowed with pride. This was the sort of thing she had been hoping for. It seemed to be having the desired effect on her parents as well, as they visibly relaxed.

  “That’s very nice to hear,” said her dad, managing a smile. “Thank you.”

  Suzy’s mom stepped out from behind him and nodded at the parcel Wilmot was holding. “Is that a delivery?” she asked.

  “Oh, this!” Wilmot looked at the parcel as if he’d forgotten he was carrying it. “No, this is for you.” He stepped forward and presented it with a flourish.

  “It’s not often the whole crew gets invited to dinner, you see,” said Stonker. “So by way of thanks, we all clubbed together and got you a little something.”

  “Oh.” Suzy’s mom accepted the box and turned it over in her hands. “That’s very kind of you.”

  “It’s nothing, really,” said Stonker with a dismissive wave. “Just something to help out around the house, that’s all.”

  “You can open it now, if you like,” added Wilmot eagerly.

  Suzy’s mom only hesitated for a moment before her curiosity won out and she tore open the paper to reveal a plain wooden box with a hinged lid. Suzy and her dad both huddled round her as she opened the lid and looked inside.

  A puff of air escaped, brushing past Suzy with a faint smell of woodsmoke. They looked into the box.

  “It’s empty,” said Suzy’s mom.

  “Well, it is now,” said Fletch, as though this were the most obvious thing in the world. “You just let it out.”

  Suzy felt a nervous twinge. “Let what out?” she said.

  “The boggart,” said Stonker.

  “The what?” asked Suzy’s dad.

  “Boggart,” said Fletch, helping himself to a hot dog. “It’s your basic household spirit. Roams around the place keepin’ things neat and dusted. Turns up little odds and ends you might have lost—keys, loose change, that sort of thing. Pretty handy, really.”

  Suzy’s mom gasped. “You mean we’ve got a ghost in the house?”

  Stonker chuckled. “Dear me, no. We wouldn’t lumber you with a ghost. This is a spirit, and quite an unobtrusive one at that. Keep it fed and warm, and you’ll hardly even know it’s here.”

  Suzy’s dad looked around the kitchen in alarm. “But where is it? I can’t see it.”

  “’Course not,” said Fletch. “Invisible, innit?”

  Suzy was scanning the room as well. She didn’t see anything, of course, but she caught a vague sense of movement from the corner of her eye, as though something small and very fast had just darted under the table, too quick for her to identify. When she turned to focus on it, there was nothing there.

  “What does it eat?” she asked.

  “Just leave a saucer of milk out at night, and it should be quite happy,” said Stonker.

  “I thought that was hedgehogs,” said Fletch.

  “Is it?” Stonker twirled the end of his mustache as he considered this. “I’m pretty sure it’s boggarts. Anyway, just let it make a home for itself in the fireplace and I expect it’ll take care of itself.”

  “But we don’t have a fireplace,” said Suzy’s mom.

  “Really?” Stonker looked surprised. “How on earth do you keep the place warm?”

  “With central heating,” said Suzy. She got down on her knees and scanned the floor, looking for movement rather than detail. She let her eyes unfocus, and a few seconds later, she detected another little flurry on the far side of the room, zipping along the skirting board and hopping into a cabinet that stood ajar beneath the sink. “What happens if we can’t feed and house it?”

  Stonker’s silence made her look up.

  “Well,” he said, shifting awkwardly, “I believe they can get a little obstreperous if neglected.”

  “A little what?” said Suzy’s mom.

  There was a crash from inside the cabinet. Suzy leaped to her feet as the door swung open and the contents were ejected one by one. Tins of shoe polish, a roll of trash bags, a sink plunger, and a dustpan and brush all sailed through the air, forcing Suzy, her parents, and the crew to take cover behind the table.

  “A little rowdy,” said Stonker as a bottle of fabric softener whistled past his head. “Oh dear.”

  “What does it think it’s doing?” said Suzy’s mom.

  “It can’t be getting rowdy already,” Suzy’s dad replied. “It’s only just arrived!”

  “Hhhrunk,” said Ursel, who was too big to hide behind anything, and simply swatted aside any projectiles that came too close.

  “Me?” said Stonker. “No, of course I didn’t feed it while it was in the box. I thought you had.”

  “Unf,” said Ursel, shaking her head.

  “Me neither,” called Fletch.

  “Nor me,” said Wilmot, who was crouched beside Suzy. “Sorry. Was I supposed to?”

  “For goodness’ sake, make it stop!” cried Suzy’s mom as ano
ther cabinet door sprung open, and the boggart disgorged an avalanche of pots and pans across the floor.

  “We need milk,” said Suzy. “Cover me!” She dashed across the room in a crouch while Ursel kept pace with her, shielding her with her body. Suzy found the carton of milk that had been hurled from the fridge—it was leaking badly, but there was just enough left inside to fill the small measuring cup that she retrieved from the floor. Then, being careful not to spill a drop, she approached the open cabinet. Ursel plucked a saucepan lid out of the air a second before it would have struck Suzy in the forehead, and raised it as a shield, her great forearms surrounding Suzy in a protective circle.

  Suzy placed the cup on the floor in front of the open cabinet, and the barrage of kitchenware stopped abruptly. Then she and Ursel beat a hasty retreat to the far side of the room, and watched.

  There was still nothing to see, but Suzy thought she could hear a faint snuffling sound. Something dipped into the milk, causing ripples across its surface. The snuffling sound grew louder.

  “See, Mom?” Suzy whispered. “There’s nothing to worry about. Everything’s under control.”

  The cup arced through the air and upended its contents all over her. The boggart gave a piggish snort, and blinking the milk from her eyes, Suzy thought she saw something leap off the floor into the sink. There was a splash, a gurgle, and then a groan of pipes that quickly spread out through the walls and the ceiling, until it sounded as if the whole house were coming apart.

  No, no, no, no nooooo! thought Suzy as she saw her parents clutch each other in fear. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go!

  As quickly as it had started, the noise died away, leaving just a comfortable ticking in the radiators.

  “You know,” said Stonker, “I’m beginning to think maybe it was hedgehogs.”

  “Not much we can do about it now,” said Fletch. “It’s got into the plumbin’.”

  “What on earth is it doing in there?” said Suzy’s dad, looking fearfully around the room.

  Suzy wiped the last of the milk from her face and stood up. “Perhaps it’s trying to keep warm,” she said. “We don’t have a fireplace, but we do have a hot water boiler.”

  “You mean our central heating is haunted now?” he said.

  “Sir,” said Stonker. “You fail to understand. Ghosts haunt. House spirits inhabit. Your boggart is simply making a new home for itself, that’s all. You’ll probably find it calms down now.”

  Suzy didn’t think he looked quite as confident as he sounded, but she also realized that her parents needed some reassurances, and quickly—her mother’s lips were pressed into a thin line of disapproval, and her father still looked as though he expected monsters to emerge from the walls at a moment’s notice. So far, this dinner hadn’t quite been the success Suzy had hoped for.

  “We’ll get this mess cleaned up in no time,” she said breezily. “And then we can eat. I’m sure Mom and Dad have got lots of questions for everyone.”

  “Oh yes,” confirmed Suzy’s mother darkly. “Lots and lots of questions.”

  3

  WHO YA GONNA CALL?

  It took less than ten minutes for everyone to mop up the worst of the mess and take their seats at the kitchen table. Suzy sat down next to Wilmot and directly across the table from her father, who had apparently already begun asking questions.

  “… so yes,” said Wilmot, “while it’s true that trolls prefer to live under bridges, we don’t really hold strong opinions on billy goats.”

  “I see,” said Suzy’s dad, propping his elbows on the table and steepling his hands in what Suzy jokingly thought of as his “I’m listening” pose. “But Suzy tells me that you don’t have anywhere to live at the moment. Is that right?”

  “Sort of,” said Wilmot. “Trollville, our hometown, suffered a lot of damage in the recent earthquakes, so we’re technically homeless until they finish rebuilding it.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Suzy’s dad replied. “That must be dreadful for you.”

  “Oh, we’re luckier than some,” said Stonker, slathering butter on a slice of bread. “Most of the city’s population has dispersed all over the Impossible Places. But the Express is as much a home to us as Trollville, so we’ve taken up a life on the rails full-time. And I must say, I think it rather suits us.”

  “Grolk.” Ursel nodded before reaching over to spear the baked salmon through the gills with one claw. She tipped her head back and flipped the whole fish straight into her open maw. For a few seconds, the only sound in the room was the crunching of fish bones and a deep, satisfied growl from Ursel. Suzy’s parents sank back in their chairs slightly.

  “Is, er … is the fish … all right?” asked Suzy’s mom. Ursel raised one claw in the closest equivalent a bear can manage to a thumbs-up.

  “And you’re making deliveries again?” Suzy asked Wilmot. Just asking the question opened an uncomfortably empty feeling deep in her chest, as though part of her was suddenly missing, but she knew she needed to steer the conversation toward the Express.

  “Almost nonstop!” said Wilmot. “In fact, this is our first evening off in weeks. But we’ve finally cleared the backlog of undelivered mail and we should be back to something like our normal schedule soon. Speaking of which, it would be great to have your help again. When are you going to join us?”

  Suzy gave her parents a meaningful look. “I’m not sure.”

  “Well,” said her dad slowly, “that’s a conversation that your mother and I still need to have.”

  “How about having it right now?” said Suzy.

  “No, thank you,” said her mom. “We’ll have it when we’re ready.”

  “We don’t want to rush into any big decisions,” said her dad.

  The exchange was interrupted by a shrill ringing noise, loud enough to make Suzy wince.

  “What’s that?” shouted Suzy’s mom, covering her ears. She glared around the table, hunting for suspects, and her eyes finally came to rest on Wilmot, who was suddenly squirming in his seat.

  “Sorry!” he called as he hurriedly patted himself down. “It’s in one of these pockets…” Suzy watched, bemused, as he threw his greatcoat over his head until he was just a pile of twitching red fabric. She turned a questioning look on the rest of the crew, who all shrugged.

  The ringing grew louder as Wilmot finally reemerged from inside his coat, holding something aloft. It was an antique telephone receiver, with a rotary dial and a pair of small brass bells that looked as though they’d been salvaged from an old alarm clock bolted onto it. “Do you like it?” he shouted to Suzy. “It’s my new mobile phone! Mom gave it to me for emergencies.”

  “Then you’d better answer it!” Suzy shouted, sticking her fingers in her ears. She could see all the glasses on the table starting to vibrate.

  Wilmot extended a long telescopic antenna from the top of the phone, and the ringing stopped abruptly. Everyone at the table let out a sigh of relief.

  “Hello?” said Wilmot, sticking the receiver deep into one ear. “Mom?”

  “Newfangled contraption,” muttered Fletch. “What’s wrong with a good old-fashioned courier fairy, that’s what I’d like to know.”

  Suzy’s mom had uncovered her ears, but didn’t look any happier. “We don’t normally allow phones at the dinner table,” she said to no one in particular.

  “Mom, please.” Suzy put a calming hand on her arm as Wilmot hopped out of his seat.

  “Hello?” he said into the phone. “Mom, is that you? I can’t hear you.” He began to jog on the spot.

  “Now what on earth is he doing?” said Suzy’s mom, staring at Wilmot in bewilderment. But Suzy had no answer.

  “Rrrolf, hrunf grruk,” said Ursel, picking a fish bone out of her fangs with a claw.

  “What did she say?” asked Suzy’s dad.

  “She wondered how else you expected him to use a mobile phone,” Stonker said. “You have to keep moving or it stops working.”

  “But … but w
hy?” asked Suzy’s dad. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “I suppose it wouldn’t be mobile otherwise,” said Stonker.

  “Runf,” said Ursel, with an emphatic nod.

  Suzy barely heard any of this. She was too focused on Wilmot, and the worried frown that was gathering on his brow. Two of his words had lodged in her mind and she couldn’t shake them loose: “For emergencies.”

  “I still can’t hear you, Mom,” he shouted into the mouthpiece. “Hang on a second.” He set off around the table at a brisk jog. “Is this better? Can you hear me now?”

  Suzy shuffled her chair in to give him more space as he jogged past. She saw her mom watching him as though he had gone mad. Then, suddenly, he stopped.

  “Oh!” he exclaimed. “It’s you! How did you get this number?” A few seconds passed and his frown deepened. “I see. Tell me everything!”

  Everyone else had gone quiet now, and even Suzy’s parents were watching Wilmot expectantly.

  “Really?” Wilmot said, narrowly avoiding knocking a vase off the sideboard with the tip of one ear as he jogged past it. “Wow! That sounds serious.”

  The others twisted in their seats, watching him as he completed another lap of the table.

  “You can always count on us,” he said, starting to sound short of breath. “Come rain, shine, or meteor shower, the Impossible Postal Express will … Yes. Yes, of course I’ll shut up and get a move on. Sorry.” He came to a halt, retracted the phone’s antenna, and stashed it away inside his coat. “Well!” he said, drawing his sleeve across his brow. “That was unexpected.” He looked around the circle of concerned faces. “We’ve got a delivery to make.”

  “But we’re off duty,” said Stonker. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

  “I’m afraid not,” said Wilmot. “It’s extremely urgent. Top priority!”

  “Why?” said Suzy. “Who was that? It didn’t sound like your mom.”

  “Oh, it wasn’t,” said Wilmot. “It was Captain Neoma at the Ivory Tower. Or Lady Meridian, to use her proper title.”

  Suzy sat bolt upright. “What?”

  “Now wait just a minute!” Suzy’s mom stood up and raised her hands for quiet. “Lady Meridian. Suzy’s told me about her. She’s that terrible old woman with the army of statues, yes?”