Grim Tuesday Read Online Free Page B

wheezed on the last word. “The Original Law forbids you to be here. Go back!”
    Some of the power of the First Key lingered in his voice. The two Grotesques stepped back and the calm on their faces was replaced with snarls as they fought against his words.
    “Go back!” repeated Arthur, raising his hands.
    The Grotesques retreated again, then rallied and stopped. Clearly Arthur did not have the authority or the remnant power to force them to go, though he had unsettled them. Both wiped their suddenly sweating foreheads with dirty white handkerchiefs plucked out of the air.
    “We obey Grim Tuesday,” said Tethera. “Only the Grim. He has sent us here to claim what is his. But it need not go badly for you and yours, Arthur. Just sign this paper, and we will be gone.”
    “Sign and we’ll be gone,” repeated Methera in his hoarse whisper.
    Tethera reached into his jacket and pulled out a long, thin, gleaming white envelope. It drifted across to Arthur, as if carried by an invisible servant. The boy took it carefully. At the same time, Methera held out a quill pen and an ink bottle, and the Grotesques stepped forward.
    Arthur stepped back, holding the envelope.
    “I need to read this first.”
    The Grotesques stepped forward again.
    “You don’t need to bother,” wheedled Tethera. “It’s very straightforward. A simple deed handing over the Lower House and the First Key. If you sign it, Grim Tuesday will not pursue the debt against your folk. You will be able to live here, in this Secondary Realm, as happily as you did before.”
    “As happily as you did before,” echoed Methera, with a knowing smirk.
    “I still need to read it,” said Arthur. He stood his ground, though the Grotesques sidled up still closer. They had a very distinct smell, a lot like fresh rain on a hot, tarred road. Not exactly unpleasant, but sharp and a little metallic.
    “Best to sign,” said Tethera, his voice suddenly full of menace, though he continued to smile.
    “Sign,” hissed Methera.
    “No!” shouted Arthur. He pushed Tethera with his right hand, the one that had most often held the First Key. As his palm touched the Grotesque’s chest it was outlined with electric blue light. Tethera stumbled back, grabbing at Methera to keep his balance. Both Grotesques staggered away, almost to the road. There they straightened up and tried to assume poses of dignity. Tethera reached into the front pocket of his apron and drew outa large, egg-shaped watch that chimed as he opened the lid and inspected the face.
    “You may have till noon before we commence our full repossession,” Tethera shouted. “But we shall not cease our preparations, and delay will not be to your advantage!”
    They got into their car, slammed the doors, and drove off, without any engine noise whatsoever. Arthur watched as the car proceeded about twenty yards up the street, then suddenly vanished in a prismatic effect like the sudden, brief rainbow after a sun-shower.
    Arthur glanced down at the gleaming white envelope. Despite its crisp look, it felt slightly slimy to his touch. How could he sign away the First Key and the Mastery of the Lower House? They had been so hard to win in the first place. But he also couldn’t let his family suffer…
    His family. Arthur raced back in to check on Bob. There was no reason for Tethera to lie, but the Grotesques’ breath had looked extremely poisonous.
    Bob was back in his studio. Arthur could hear him talking to someone, which was a good sign. The padded soundproof door was partly open, so Arthur poked his head around. Bob was sitting at one of his pianos, holding the phone with one hand and agitatedly tapping asingle bass note with the other. He looked fine, but as Arthur listened, he quickly realized that while the Gray Breath had worn off, the Grotesques had, as they’d threatened, continued their “preparations.”
    “How can the band suddenly owe the record company twelve million dollars after twenty years?”