The Devil's Dreamcatcher by Donna Hosie Read Free Book Online Page B

been for nearly a century. Today Hell is in lockdown due to one of the most serious security breaches it has ever seen, which came about as a direct result of one of the Unspeakables escaping from the Skin-Walkers’ realm, breaking into The Devil’s private chambers and stealing his most valuable possession. So I will show Perfidious respect when Rory Hunter is back where he belongs—in spiked chains with the other vile cretins who once preyed on the living— and when that which has been stolen from the master of Hell is returned.”
    â€œI haven’t seen Rory since the day he died,” I repeat, hoping to redirect the conversation. “This has nothing to do with me, and it certainly has nothing to do with the others who came here with me. Please let them go.”
    Baumwither picks up the remote control and presses the red button again. I glance at Septimus, but he’s watching Perfidious. The wolf-man has closed his black eyes and is standing quietly once more, as still as a statue. Yet there’s a wry smile, almost like a smirk, on his cracked brown lips. I don’t like that smile. I’ve seen it before, back in the land of the living. It’s the look of someone who’s plotting something.
    The screen flickers again, and my stepfather’s face disappears and is replaced by a black-and-white image of a small dais surrounded by drapes. There are clumsily written words splashed across the flat surface, as if someone had scrawled them in paint.
    â€œDo not panic, Miss Pallister,” whispers Septimus, but he’s still watching the immobile, smirking Perfidious.
    The words on the dais read:
You can have it back when I get my life back
.
    Baumwither presses the remote control again, and the black-and-white image takes on color.
    â€œIs that writing in blood?” asks Mitchell faintly.
    My head is swimming. I don’t understand any of this. Why am I here? I don’t know anything. Rory is dead. He died over five monthsbefore I did. I’ve done everything I could to forget he even existed, so why am I being punished? It isn’t my fault.
    â€œ
This isn’t my fault,
” I say aloud.
    â€œIndeed. This has been quite enough, Sir Richard,” says Septimus sharply. “It is perfectly clear that Miss Pallister and her new friends have had no contact whatsoever with the Unspeakable. I am taking them back with me, and they will be provided with bedding and food in the accounting office until the lockdown is over.”
    â€œNow look here, Septimus—”
    â€œI am taking them back with me, and that is the end of it. Far be it from me to tell you how to do your job, but I will remind you that I have been dead for two thousand years and my knowledge, experience and authority—excuse my language, ladies—pisses over yours, Sir Richard. Now, instead of interrogating an innocent sixteen-year-old girl, you should be putting your considerable resources into tracking down the Unspeakable, and more importantly, retrieving the Dreamcatcher. You are aware, I am sure, of its enormous power and the danger it could pose in the wrong hands.”
    The aura around Perfidious is moving again. The dark shadow is dancing around his body. It swirls and stretches to form the black outline of eight other wolf heads with wide-open jaws and bared teeth. They are shuddering.
    No, they aren’t shuddering, they’re laughing.
    â€œI reserve the right to question Miss Pallister again,” blusters Baumwither, but Septimus is already herding Mitchell, Elinor and me to the door. Alfarin edges around Baumwither to retrieve his axe from the table. On our way out, we pass the HBI investigator returning with my glass of water. I ignore him and keep walking as fast as I can.
    â€œHELL IS NOW IN LOCKDOWN. YOU ARE STRONGLY ADVISED TO STAY EXACTLY WHERE YOU ARE. FAILURE TO COMPLY IS UNWISE. HELL IS NOW IN LOCKDOWN. . . .”
    Septimus takes us back