The Beast of Seabourne by Rhys A. Jones Page A

Ellie said, picking up a glossy brochure.
    â€œWe have. Mum’s decided that the tenants’ rooms need decorating now, too.” A new thought struck him. “Fancy a tour?” They were all a little wound up. It wouldn’t do any harm to take their minds off things.
    Ellie and Ruff nodded, and Oz took them downstairs to the basement.
    â€œWow. I never knew it was this big.” Ruff’s voice echoed in the cavernous space.
    â€œIt’s huge,” Ellie agreed. “Great place for a den.”
    â€œLet’s go back up through the passages,” Ruff said, excitement animating his face.
    Oz hesitated for just a moment before saying casually, “Sure.”
    Though the pause had only been momentary, Ellie noticed. “We don’t have to,” she said quickly.
    â€œYeah, why not,” Oz said, brushing aside the tiny skip of his pulse. He had not been inside the passages that ran in the walls of the old house since the night of the attack in this very basement. Structural repairs and his mother’s dire warnings had seen to that. Now the repairs and decorating were complete, and, more importantly, Mrs Chambers wasn’t around.
    â€œHang on; I’ll get some torches.”
    Oz ran up to the kitchen, and when he got back to the basement a few moments later, he found Ellie and Ruff both looking pensive and guessed that they’d been talking.
    â€œWhat?” he asked.
    Ruff kicked at some imaginary dust. “Oz, maybe it isn’t such a great idea. I mean, last time…”
    He didn’t have to finish the sentence. They all knew that the last time they’d been in those passages they’d almost been killed.
    â€œLook, I’m fine. I want to do this. Really.”
    Ruff looked at Ellie, who gave a little shrug, as Oz knew she would. Ellie was not one to shirk a challenge. Moments later, Oz was leading them along the reverse of the route he’d taken that fateful night of the fire. They climbed up iron rungs instead of down and moved crablike along narrow walkways flanked by cobweb-encrusted walls. Eventually, they found themselves on the first floor of the orphanage block at the exact point where Rollins—Oz’s attacker—had slammed the door on Ellie, Ruff, and Lucy Bishop, locking them in one of the old classrooms while he abducted Oz.
    â€œIt’s a bit weird standing here, isn’t it?” Ruff said in a slightly shaky whisper.
    â€œForgotten how chilly it was,” Ellie said, but Oz suspected the chill wasn’t entirely from the temperature.
    â€œWe can go straight back to the library if you like,” he said.
    â€œNo.” Ellie sounded firm. “We only ever got this far. I’d like to see what’s up at the other end.”
    Oz shone his torch along the dingy passage, to where it petered out at an apparently solid wall.
    â€œLet’s have a look,” he said, and led the way.
    â€œWhat time’s food?” Ruff muttered. “I’m famished—”
    â€œYou and your stomach, honestly,” Ellie cut him off.
    At the end of the passage, instead of the blank wall they’d expected, a hidden step at right angles took them up into another, even narrower gap and yet more rungs. The walls pressed in on them claustrophobically now. Flecks of dirt fell onto Oz’s head, and he had to wipe ancient cobwebs from his eyelashes. He sensed the space before he saw it; a cold draft whistled in from the eaves above. Seconds later, he stepped out onto a narrow platform.
    â€œAre we in the roof somewhere?” Ellie asked as she huddled next to him.
    â€œFeels like it,” Oz said. On one side of the platform was rough stone, but the other was a lath-and-plaster dividing wall, which sounded hollow when Oz rapped it with his knuckles.
    â€œCan’t see a door,” Ruff said.
    â€œHang on, what’s this?” Halfway down the plaster wall, they could make out a dark square