The Garden of Unearthly Delights Read Online Free PDF Page A

armchair and fell once more to the
floor.
    Elm
splinters, shards of aspen inlay, fractured gilded bolts. The study door
lurched from its hinges, smashed into the room.
    Two
monstrous forms — distorted heads with quills for hair and light bulb eyes,
snapping jaws and pointed tongues, great barrel chests in leather harness and
hands that reached down to the knees — charged forward, tumbling priceless
antiques, elbowing aside the library globes and statuary. Roaring, yelling.
Terrifying.
    Maxwell
took shelter beneath one of the satinwood escritoires and looked on fearfully
as an alarming scene began to unfold.
    ‘Back,
foul spawn of Satan’s bed-sit.’ Sir John raised up his hands, uttered
syllables, formed enigmatic figures with his fingers. Maxwell’s ears popped as
waves of pressure buffeted the room. Sparks crackled from Sir John’s hands. Beams of energy flew from his
contorted fingers and smote the monsters, fiercely, thus and so.
    The
things cried out in anguish, backed away and cowered. Then they shrivelled,
guttered like two dying candles, and were gone.
    ‘Rock
‘n’ Roll,’ whispered Maxwell. ‘Was that something else, or what?’
    ‘Dr
Harney, the scroll,’ cried Sir John. ‘He must not have the scroll.’
    What
scroll? thought Maxwell. And what he?
    The
doctor patted at his pockets. ‘I don’t have the scroll. It’s gone from where I
put it.’
    ‘What?’
whispered Maxwell, keeping his head down and struggling to untie his laces.
    Sir
John’s face was grave. ‘The scroll holds all the power,’ he said. ‘He that can
decipher it will have ultimate control. It must never fall into the hands of
the count. If it did, all would be lost.’
    ‘Not
for me it wouldn’t.’
    Maxwell
jerked his head towards the speaker and was quite impressed by what he saw.
Framed in the doorway was the very picture of evil: big and bald and bad to the
bone; skin bone-white and clothes of graveyard black; the face, that mask of
hatred and contempt that villains wear. The overall demeanour one of menace.
Sinister and cruel.
    ‘Count Waldeck,’
said Sir John. ‘We meet at last.’
    ‘It’s
the count,’ whispered Maxwell to his boots. ‘Sir John’s arch enemy. The
Moriarty to his Sherlock Holmes. This must be the big confrontation scene in
the final chapter of the book. The book I’m supposed to be reading at this very
moment. And somehow I’m in it too. Because I’m so engrossed in it, or
something. I suppose it makes some kind of sense, if you’re prepared to let it.
And I am.’
    Maxwell’s
boots had no comment to make.
    ‘You
know what I’ve come for,’ said the count. ‘If you wish me to spare your lives,
hand it over.’
    ‘Never.’
Sir John crooked his fingers, uttered words. Power welled. light blazed. Then
faltered. Fizzled. Fluttered and melted away.
    ‘Bugger,’
said Sir John.
    The
count dusted specks of white from night-clad shoulders. ‘You would appear to
have given me dandruff,’ he said. ‘But no matter.’ He flung up his hands.
Golden cords snaked across the room, whipped about Sir John, bound him fast.
    Sir
John fought and wriggled but to no avail.
    ‘My
magic is more powerful than your own,’ sneered the count. ‘The day is mine, I
think.’
    ‘But
how did you find this place?’ Sir John squared up in his bondage. ‘Its location
is a secret, known only to myself and my loyal companions.’
    ‘Loyal?’
The count raised an evil eyebrow, laughed an evil laugh.
    ‘No.’
Sir John turned his eyes to his companions. Dr Harney was bound fast. Danbury , however, was not.
    ‘You told him?’
    Danbury shuffled his DMs and giggled ghoulishly. ‘Yeah, that’s right.’
    ‘But
why?’
    ‘Look,
I didn’t ask to be written. And it’s more fun being the bad guy. Everyone knows
that.’
    ‘The
scroll,’ said the count. ‘Where is the scroll?’
    ‘Max
has it,’ said Danbury .
    ‘Max?
Who is this Max?’
    Maxwell,
who had finally freed his bootlaces, was edging towards