Page 46 of Skulk of Foxes
Morgan rounded on me. ‘You never ever drink or eat anything like that again,’ he commanded. ‘It could do untold damage.’
I pointed at the vomit spatters. ‘Unfortunately,’ I said, ‘I rather think it already has.’
‘So much for the Madhatter,’ Jodie said. ‘Now it’s not just dust and mountains of paper to get through. It’s the contents of her stupid stomach.’
I had to admit that they weren’t pleasant. The room was already airless; now it was airless and filled with sour stench of my half-digested dinner. I peered round. I supposed I should make some effort at cleaning up.
The worst of the sick was on a pile of old books lying against a rickety metal shelving unit. I stumbled over and started wiping the green puke off with the hem of my T-shirt. It had already been soaked and slimed and burnt and ripped today; a little intestinal fluid was unlikely to do it any more harm.
I patted ineffectually at the front cover of the first book. ‘The Parish Records for Diggle,’ I said, reading aloud as the words gradually became visible. ‘It sounds like a children’s TV show, not an actual place.’ I flipped open the first pages. ‘May 12th, 1467 Baptism Richard Stiff.’ I looked up at the others. ‘Who on earth thinks it’s a good idea to name their child Dick Stiff? Dick Stiff from Diggle.’ I shook my head. ‘Poor arsebadger.’
I flicked another page. ‘George Lung. Blimey. Do you think he was mates with Dick Stiff and Willie Throat and Billy Nose and Boris Arse?’
I really shouldn’t have downed that potion. We were never going to find what we needed.
Opulus, who’d been keeping quiet, rose abruptly to his feet. ‘Say that again,’ he said.
‘Dick Stiff, Willie Throat, Bi—’
‘Not that you foolish girl. The other one. The other name.’
I frowned. ‘You mean George Lung?’
He snapped his fingers. ‘That’s it.’
Morgan’s expression cleared. ‘Do you really think that’s it?’
Opulus raised a single shoulder. ‘It’s where the potion led us.’
‘It’s where my vomit led us,’ I said. I paused. ‘Led us where, though?’
Morgan turned to me. ‘Lung. It’s a variation of Liung.’
I waited for more. When he didn’t continue, I gestured impatiently. ‘I’m going to need a little more than that.’
‘Liungis Chinese for dragon.’
‘That’s a little tenuous, isn’t it?’
‘Actually,’ Morgan said with a sudden gleam in his eye, ‘I don’t think it is.’ He held out his hand. ‘Give me the book.’
I passed it over. There was still a considerable amount of vomit on it. Morgan made a moue of distaste. ‘Vegetables, Maddy. You need to eat fewer kebabs and Pot Noodles and more vegetables.’
‘Well,’ I told him, ‘at least you can’t ever say that you don’t know me inside out.’
Morgan smiled slightly before flipping through the pages, his eyes scanning each one as he searched. When his body tensed, I knew he’d found what we were looking for. ‘We have an address,’ he crowed. ‘He was moved from Diggle not long after he was born. This could be it.’
‘You have an address from the fifteenth century,’ I pointed out, peering over his shoulder. ‘How useful is that going to be? Anyway, how can you read that? It’s barely legible.’
‘It’s Moss Side,’ Morgan said. He jabbed at the entry. ‘That particular suburb has been around for centuries and dragons don’t like to move unless they absolutely have to. As unbelievable as it might seem, there’s a very good chance that our Mr Lung is still there. If the building is still standing, anyway.’
Everyone, Opulus included, suddenly appeared considerably brighter. I put my hands on my hips and grinned. ‘Then let’s go and find out.’
Chapter Thirteen
It was less than four miles from the cathedral to Moss Side where hopefully we would find our very own dragon. With the semi-destroyed roads, piles of rubble and massive potholes, it took us almost forty minutes by bike. The journey didn’t dint my renewed optimism, however.
‘We’re all going on a dragon hunt!’ I chanted for a good part of the journey. I was hoping for at least a little bit of fire-breathing and wing-flapping – otherwise what was the point of being a dragon?
