The Tunnels Below by Nadine Wild-Palmer (have you read this book .txt) 📗

we will explain to the rest of the dwellers that the dark is encroaching and that it has swallowed them up and will eventually consume us all if they don’t commit to more weekly lamentations. This will keep Mr Sparks in good running condition and help to generate more power that we can more easily control. Every time the dwellers begin to cheer up we will bring them right back down by simply picking off another unsuspecting ‘role model’. Meanwhile, we can rest on our perches and continue our surveillance from the darkness—keeping the order!”

Cries and flapping broke out.

Cecilia saw Luke’s lips mouthing something; Kuffi was looking at him from the stage. The cables wrapped around Kuffi and Madame Midnight were pulled and they were jolted into walking off the stage.

As she was torn away, Madame Midnight called out in fury, “My murder will come for you, Jacques.” She spat on the ground after she said it. “You’ll see, my murder will come for you!” Julius grabbed her by the beak and they were gone.

The crowd was roaring and Jacques d’Or stood with his wings raised, soaking it all up. Cecilia thought he looked a bit like a famous pop star and shuddered as she remembered that he definitely was not. Pop stars sung of love and happiness. Jacques d’Or’s song was one of fear and sadness but Cecilia knew that of all things, she must not lose hope.

19Lady-Bird, Lady-Bird

At the end of the meeting the animated crowd filtered out chattering among themselves, apart from a few stragglers who hung about trying to get autographs. It seemed that everyone was so absorbed in their chats that they hardly noticed Cecilia and Luke standing in the middle of it all.

Cecilia saw a flash of glittery ring pulls pass by the bar and grabbed Luke by the hand.

“Come on, I’ve just seen the Lady we came here for!”

“Well, well, well! What do we have here?” A croaky voice attached to a long white-feathered neck dropped down to eye level, blocking their way, a black bead of an eye surveying them.

“Two little rebels, dressed up to the nines, it seems. The name is Blanche and I’m the proprietor of this place. What business have you here?”

Blanche had a somewhat spicy personality and Cecilia could feel the heat of interrogation prickling her skin. Cecilia unzipped her backpack and rummaged around before whipping out the notepad and the newspapers that Jasper had given them.

“Such a pleasure to meet you. We are trainee reporters, Miss Blanche, here to interview Lady-Bird, if we may?” she said with conviction.

“Oh, I see, and who sent you?” Blanche said suspiciously, flicking her head sideways.

“We are from the Fly, ma’am,” Luke said in lightning-flash response.

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Blanche had no idea who they were but her pride wouldn’t let her show it. “Follow the bar round to the entrance hall, cut diagonally across from it, and it’s the mirrored door on the left.”

The two made to leave right away but that was premature; Blanche’s voice stopped them in their tracks again.

“Just wait one second. I don’t recognise…” She teetered on the edge of finishing her sentence and Cecilia’s blood ran cold. “You. Come here,” she said, beckoning Cecilia with a menace dancing around her eyes. “I don’t recognise that design.”

Cecilia looked down at herself.

“That’s a very splendid dress. Where did you get it from?” Blanche enquired.

“Mrs Hoots’ Haberdashery,” Cecilia stuttered. She was trembling so much she held her hands tightly in front of her to stop it from showing. Blanche reached out her own hand and ran it over the lacework.

“Yes. It’s quite lovely. I should’ve known. OK, now scoot,” she huffed. “I have business to attend to.” And she turned on her heels, gliding off through the last remaining dwellers.

Luke looked at Cecilia and almost laughed, but he didn’t make a sound, just wiped his brow, and they scuttled off around the bar.

At the back of the entrance hall was a small embellished mirror door. Perhaps it had once been an actual functioning mirror, but years of grubby hands pushing it open had left it looking old and spotted. Cecilia winced as a memory of her mum flashed before her, like a bolt of lightning, and she felt hot and frustrated. Mum would have called it “vintage”, she thought and in this case she would probably have been right. Luke tried the door by gently pushing on it and it opened. They were both surprised that it was unlocked. They hesitated a moment but some shouting behind the bar made them jolt into action and they slipped through to the other side.

The entire room was made of mirrors of all different shapes and sizes and of varying degrees of reflectiveness. As they walked into the room, they saw a multitude of images of Lady-Bird and her voice rang out tunefully, but they could not tell which one, if any, was actually her.

“Can I help you,” she asked. “Are you lost?”

“No,” said Cecilia. “You are just the Lady we are looking for.”

“What do you want?”

“We are here to interview you, Miss Lady-Bird,” said Luke.

“Oh, you’re from the Fly, then?” said Lady-Bird. “I’ve been expecting you—although you’re not who I was expecting to interview me. Give me a moment and I’ll be right with you.”

“You know they say, never meet your heroes, Luke, so prepare to be disappointed,” whispered Cecilia.

Luke frowned and made a shushing noise then turned to Cecilia. “How do I look?”

“Smashing,” she replied. “And me?”

“Fine,” he said, pulling a feather out of her hair, completely unaware that he was doing so. He held the feather up to the light and blew it away softly. Cecilia broke his reverie.

“I hope that the Fly haven’t sent any other journalists to interview Lady-Bird today. Gee whiz, I wish she’d hurry up!”

“Yeah, well, I bet the real journalists wouldn’t be telling anyone the truth about what was actually said in that speech or what Jacques d’Or is