Return to Groosham Grange by Anthony Horowitz Read Free Book Online

except that it was alive, jerking and squealing. The agent attached the message to the creature’s leg, then carried it over to the window.
    “Off you go.” The words were a soft whisper in the darkness.
    A brief flurry. A last cry. And then the message was gone, carried off into the swirling night.

Needle in a Haystack
    I t’s a very unusual situation,” Mr. Fitch said. “We have a tie.”
    “David Eliot and Vincent King,” Mr. Teagle agreed. “Both have six hundred and sixty-six points.”
    “It’s a bit of a nuisance,” Mr. Fitch remarked peevishly. What are we going to do?”
    Both men—or rather, both heads—looked around the table. The two of them were in the staff room, sitting in a single, high-backed chair. It was midday. Arranged around the table in front of them were Mr. Kilgraw, Mr. Helliwell, Mr. Creer, Mrs. Windergast, Monsieur Leloup and the oldest teacher in the school (by several centuries), Miss Pedicure. Miss Pedicure taught English, although at the start of her career this had been a bit of a problem as English hadn’t been invented. She was now so frail and wrinkled that everyone would stop and stare whenever she sneezed, afraid that the effort might cause her to disintegrate.
    Mr. Kilgraw grimaced, for a moment revealing two razor-sharp vampire teeth. There was a glass of red liquid on the table in front of him that might have been wine, but probably wasn’t. “Is it not a tradition,” he inquired, “in this circumstance to set some sort of trial? A tiebreaker?”
    “What sort of trial do you have in mind?” Mrs. Windergast asked.
    Mr. Kilgraw waved a languid hand. Because it was the middle of the day, the curtains in the room had been drawn for him, but enough of the light was filtering through to make him even paler than usual. “It will have to take place off the island,” he said. “I would suggest London.”
    “Why London?” Miss Pedicure demanded.
    “London is the capital,” Mr. Kilgraw replied. “It is polluted, overcrowded and dangerous. A perfect arena—”
    “Here, here!” Mrs. Windergast muttered.
    “You agree?” Mr. Kilgraw asked.
    “No. I was saying that the trial ought to take place here, here . . . on the island.”
    “No.” Mr. Fitch rapped his knuckles on the table. “It’s better if we send them out. More challenging.”
    “I have an idea,” Mr. Kilgraw said.
    “Do tell us,” Mr. Fitch gurgled.
    “Over the last year we have tested these boys in every aspect of the magical arts,” Mr. Kilgraw began. “Cursing, levitation, shape-shifting, thanatomania—”
    “What’s thanatomania?” Mr. Creer demanded.
    Mr. Kilgraw ignored him. “I suggest we set them a puzzle,” he went on. “It will be a trial of skill and of the imagination. A meeting of two minds. It will take me a day or two to work out the details. But at least it will be final. Whoever wins the contest comes out top of the line and takes the Unholy Grail.”
    Everyone around the table murmured their assent. Mr. Fitch glanced at Mr. Helliwell. “Does it seem fair to you, Mr. Helliwell?” he asked.
    The voodoo master nodded gravely. “I think that David Eliot deserves the Grail,” he said. “If you ask me, there’s something funny about the way he’s lost so many points in such a short time. But this will give him a chance to prove himself. I’m sure he’ll win. So I agree.”
    “Then it’s decided,” Mr. Teagle concluded. “Mr. Kilgraw will work on the tiebreaker. And perhaps you’ll let me know when you’ve set something up.”
     
     
    Two days later, David and Vincent stood in one of the underground caverns of Skrull Island. They were both dressed casually in jeans and black, open-neck shirts. Mr. Kilgraw, Mr. Helliwell and Miss Pedicure were standing opposite them. At the back of the cave were two glass boxes that could have been shower cubicles except that they were empty. The boxes looked slightly ridiculous in the gloomy setting of the cave—like two