Darwen Arkwright and the School of Shadows by A. J. Hartley Read Free Book Online

gazed at him, impressed, and Alex rolled her eyes.
    â€œGood,” said Darwen. “But now we have to find Mr. P. We just have no chuffin’ idea where to start looking.”
    There was a lengthy silence.
    â€œHave you tried his house?” asked Moth.
    Darwen, Rich, and Alex stared at the tiny dellfey, speechless.
    â€œHis house?” Alex repeated at last.
    â€œWe don’t know where he lived,” Rich admitted, sounding amazed by his own ignorance. “How do we not know where he lived?”
    â€œI always assumed . . .” Darwen began, but couldn’t think of how to end the sentence.
    â€œThat he lived in the mirror shop?” Alex completed. “We’ve been in there. Apart from that little kitchen in the back, there was nothing. He must have had a house somewhere. I can’t believe we never asked him where it was.”
    â€œI may know where he lived,” said Moth, “though I do not know how to get there.”
    Darwen held his breath.
    â€œIt is a curious locus,” she said, “and it is not in Silbrica, but in your world. A structure. How you might find it, I cannot say, but perhaps this code will help.” She screwed her eyes up and recited in a singsong voice, as if the words held no real meaning, “472 West Paces Ferry Road Northwest, Atlanta, Georgia.”
    Again, the three humans stared at her, humbled.
    â€œYeah,” said Darwen, grinning. “That might help.”
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    Darwen, Rich, and Alex clambered up the metal chute that led from the Great Apparatus to the oven door in Darwen’s bedroom. They had been gone almost an hour. Darwen pressed his ear to the door.
    His aunt was clearly on the phone: work.
    â€œGet changed,” said Darwen.
    They had all brought overnight bags with extra clothes, which was just as well. Their Silbrican adventure had left them wet and filthy.
    â€œTurn your backs,” Alex commanded.
    Moments later, they were ready.
    They opened the bedroom door and filed into the kitchen. Honoria was just hanging up the phone and she looked tired. She was wearing a trim black business suit and the silver necklace she always wore at work, but she couldn’t hide her irritation and it made her look like someone else entirely.
    â€œReady to head out?” she asked. “I’ll call Eileen.”
    Eileen was the teenage babysitter who didn’t like kids. They all loathed her.
    â€œYou aren’t going to drive them?” asked Darwen.
    â€œI just don’t have time tonight, Darwen,” his aunt replied, glancing at where her laptop sat, waiting.
    â€œIt’s fine,” he said. “Eileen. Great.”
    His aunt closed her eyes again as if she had a headache. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But look. This arrived today. I ordered it weeks ago. I have no idea why it took so long. . . .” Some of the irritation was creeping back into her voice, and conscious of it, she stopped and pushed the cardboard parcel over to Darwen. “You are always saying how much you miss British candy, so I thought I’d get you some.”
    Darwen tore open the box and drank in the contents with his eyes. Bounty bars (both milk chocolate and dark chocolate) and Lion bars with crispy rice, honey sweet Crunchies, and several different kinds of Yorkies.
    â€œWow!” said Darwen. “Thanks.” Then, without a second’s hesitation, he pushed the box toward Rich and Alex. “Here,” he said. “These are the best.”
    Rich hesitated, checking Aunt Honoria’s face.
    â€œThis is special stuff for you,” Alex said. “You don’t need to share it.”
    â€œBut I want to.” Darwen shrugged. “It’s like a bit of where I come from. Try one of these.”
    They didn’t need much persuading, and for the fifteen minutes it took before Eileen arrived, they sampled the candy, compared notes, and